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queers-gambit · 1 month

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Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

title citation: Hamlet

prompt: similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: The Truth Will Out - coming soon collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 18.3k+

note: SLUTTY ANGST CLUB, COME GET Y'ALL JUICE!

warnings: not edited. heapings of angst, hurt and no comfort, fuck your feelings. tweaked timeline, cursing, Bridgerton influenced, Aemond's both a bestie and an outstanding, fucking asshole - so is this vilified Aemond? eavesdropping trope, nicknamed reader, insecurity, insults, betrayl, abundance of ye ol' misogyny, self destructive tendencies; a single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure. there's men being men, men being gossipy little bitches, and the most random Lord of the Rings quote that kinda breaks the fourth wall?

Bridgerton - available to watch on Netflix 🍒 this fic was written before season three premiered

Jacaerys Velaryon version: coming soon

Tonight was a celebration that echoed across the entire Realm. Lords and Ladies alike with their service maids, House guards, any available singletons flocked to King's Landing for the courting season. They did this annually. Three solid months for eligible singles to make a match and attempt to secure their bond in matrimony.

Ladies wore layers of multicolored fabrics. Lords dressed in embellished tunics. Ladies tied on tight corsets to push their breasts to their necks. Lords shaved their facial hair, appearing "cleaned up". Ladies smelt of exotic perfume and Lords stood in shiny boots. All wore sparkling, gaudy jewelry.

While the Starks of Winterfell and the Umbers of Last Hearth traveled over a month to reach the capital, your family, the Tyrells from Highgarden, had a much more comfortable commute. Greyjoys and Mormonts sailed in from the Iron Islands and Bear Island, Tullys from Riverrun, Royces and Arryns from the Eyrie. Single, available, eligible Hightowers returned under Queen Alicent's sponsorship, Lannisters prowled in from Lannisport, and select few Martells arrived in gorgeous, gloriously golden carriages from Dorne.

Everyone who was anyone descended onto the Red Keep, eager to earn King Viserys' stamp of approval - being that he only granted one couple his presence at their ceremony. It was the highest of honors, a prize to be won, a chance to show off and show out; giving the two bonded families bragging rights until the next season. Plus there's a superstition that all weddings the King attended were prosperous, healthy, and long lasting marriages. There was a buzz in the air, a static of excitement and mystery; tension brewing when the members of court arrived and sized each other up for that first week. You thought they were silly for this energy, akin to strutting peacocks, treating their own like competition, treating bloodlines like currency.

You never realized how many purists there were.

While the other Houses had to travel, you were most lucky to already host residence in the Red Keep. Your uncle, Evin Tyrell, had once been in line to assume lordship over Highgarden, but after losing his son to the War of the Stepstones, Evin turned away from his inherited responsibilities; forcing it onto your father's shoulders. You had several siblings, both younger and older, and eventually got lost in your bustling, busy, arguably large family. Evin had no more children, wife long departed from this life, and was excited by the prospect of being a guardian; insisting you come with him to King's Landing, where he accepted a tutoring position for the King's children and grandchildren.

You were absolutely romanced by the idea of existing among the royal family, telling your father it was your one chance at a decent, higher education - an opportunity to study under the Targaryens being once in a lifetime. Truth be told, you're not entirely sure Lord Tyrell even processed your words, approving with a distracted grunt and a wave; gone by the next morning without even breaking your fast with your family. Evin hooked both your beloved horse and one of your father's young stallions to a wooden cart you shared, using the journey to King's Landing to prepare you for the life you were soon to live.

You had always been a little wild child, so, Evin felt it necessary to remind you of your manners; brushing up on your etiquette, quizzing you on members of the Royal Family, explaining what would be expected of you now that you were a guest to the royals.

For well over a decade, you were the single wildflower blooming through dragon fire, earning the moniker Rose of the Realm; living under Queen Alicent's good grace. She seemed to like you well enough, going as far as to invite you to family events after noticing the bond between you and her openly favorite son, Prince Aemond. Years ago, when you were fresh and new to the Capital City, your uncle brought you to attend Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral on Driftmark at the King's invitation. You already had a friendship with the young royals; keeping Helaena company, trying to sneak Aegon's chalices of wine out of his grip, and when the time came, rushed off over the sandy dunes with your best mate after he told you his plan to lay claim on Lady Laena's dragon, Vhagar.

After the King's heir, Princess Rhaenyra's (rumored) bastard son, Lucerys, slashed Aemond's eye from his socket, you became incredibly close. Impossible close. Like unbelievably close; being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, magnetically pulled towards one another before clicking into tight place. You were his pillar of support, his anchor to reality; and he was your salvation.

You realized you were in love with him when you turned ten-and-six. It was something strange, the two of you studying together in the library and when you looked up from your book to meet his eyes, you just understood. Something in your brain clicked, heart cemented in knowing, guts twisting in sudden realization, words caught in your throat and only letting out an inaudible gasp. Ever since that day, you were acutely aware of anything the Prince did; from the way he would caress the back of your head at each embrace, to his eye darting to look at your lips during conversations. From how he took almost every meal with you, to the way he insisted upon your invitation to family, public, and / or royal events. From the way he absorbed your secrets and opinions, to the way he shared his own - getting back what you put forth, forever mutual.

Being friends - best mates, even - with Aemond was easy. So easy, in fact, that nobody ever batted an eye when they saw the two of you unchaperoned. Your friendship was wholesome, endearing, supportive, enlightening, and pleasurably challenging in the sense that Aemond liked pushing your envelope; testing your boundaries. He set new standards and helped lift you to meet those goals, made you think harder, consider new points of view, expand your humanity.

What more could anyone ask for?

About half way through the current season, your uncle sent for you to join him for afternoon tea in the gardens. "Do you recognize these?" He asked when you arrived at the pavilion he sought shade under, admiring the bushes of florals surrounding the bannister.

"Of course," you smirked, hands behind your back as you stood at his shoulder, "they're honeysuckle."

"Native to only Highgarden, just like I called you in your youth," Evin added, plucking a bloom to admire. "Do you know why they're planted here?"

"I imagine through pollination?"

"A sound guess, but no," your uncle handed you the flower. "These were imported years ago, but have only bloomed now."

You nodded, sucking the bud to extract its honey-sweet taste, asking through puckered lips, "Imported by whom?"

"Do you remember your 17th nameday?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess, it was only a few years ago. You weren't here, you were on some diplomatic matter, right?"

"Inna way. After I concluded my affairs, I returned to Highgarden. You see, Prince Aemond confided in me how he wished to do something special for your birthday and knew you missed home. He asked me to bring these seeds back."

"Aemond asked you to plant honeysuckle?"

"Specifically here," Elvin grinned, "so they were within easy reach."

"So why have they only just now bloomed?" You tried to keep the jittery excitement out of your voice; baffled yet giddy from hearing about Aemond's kind gesture.

"There's an old legend," Evin gestured you to the patio table and chairs that was dressed for your social visit. "It's said, when the honeysuckle is gifted from lover to lover, they will only bloom when love surrounds them. I believe they have come to life this season as a portent to an impending match to be made."

"You spend too much time with Otto, Uncle, you're starting to sound like him - veiling your words and talking in riddles. Tell me why you called me here, Uncle, I know it's not for a botany lesson. Out with it, please, for the sake of my sanity."

Evin chuckled, watching you lean forward to pour two mugs of tea. "I was wondering, sweet niece, what the nature of your relationship is to the Prince Aemond?"

"Oh," you blinked, adding a sugar cube to your brew before stirring in a bit of milk, "well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't know what to tell you, Uncle. We're friends, nothing more or less."

"You seem real chummy."

"We're close, yes."

"Romantic?"

You scoffed, "Uncle, please - "

"Tell me the truth of it."

"Nothing inappropriate or unseemly nor nefarious has occurred between us, Uncle, I promise you. The Prince and I are just friends."

Evin sipped his tea, nodding slowly, "Well, humor me. If I asked who you would marry, who would you choose?"

"Well, as of right now, I'd choose myself since I don't know the men at court yet, only rumors and whispers."

"And if the offer of marriage presented itself, would you marry the Prince?"

"I would do my duty to our House, no matter the suitor."

Evin nodded slowly, "If I said I had struck a pact with the Queen and Hand, what would you say?"

"That despite what I've just said, if you marry me off to Aegon, I'll pitch myself from a window."

Your uncle's head tilted back as he belted short laughter. "I would never condemn you to such a fate, honey girl! Have more faith in me. I speak of Prince Aemond - it's why I asked about him."

"Uncle, speak plainly. Have you attempted to make such a match between the Prince and I?"

"Pending a few logistics, the Crown's interested in the match."

The words echoed in your mind on an obnoxious repeat for the weeks to come, surely living a dream. The longer you dwelled on the impending match, the giddier you felt; a secret smile brightening your features, small spring in your step, an air of positivity hanging around you that even the tiresome Rogue Prince wouldn't be able to taint. The One-Eyed Prince has long been your best mate for a decade, surely, this match would've been offered sooner or later; it was a smart choice, the definition of compatibility.

Some might've referred to this elation as "cloud nine", though you'd say it was cloud 10, 11, 12, 100! You were flying high, feeling good, and mistakenly allowing your hopes to heighten while imagining what marrying your best friend would be like.

You prepared for that evening's courting session with a dreamy, dazed look in your eyes. Even your ladies-maid picked up on your joyful spirit; questioning through her smile, "What's got you so distracted, my Lady? You've been staring off into nothing with that smile for an hour now."

"Huh?" You met her eyes through the vanity mirror, the woman standing behind you to intricately braid your hair. "Oh, no, no, nothing, I'm only lost in thought."

"Which thought?"

"It doesn't matter, it's just a thought. When it becomes a notion, I'll tell you, my friend."

She repeated with a grin, "'Yeah? When's that? Are you expecting good news?"

"Perhaps."

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," she playfully tugged your hair. "Do you know which dress you'd like to wear tonight?"

"The lilac one," you answered, lips stretching your smile.

"You mean the dress that matches Prince Aemond's eye perfectly?"

You both giggled girlishly.

When you arrived at the Throne Room, there was already more than 75% of guests in attendance; getting a jump on their mingling. You greeted several familiar faces, locating your best mate standing at the side with his arms crossed and shoulder leaning on a pillar. "Well, you certainly look happy to be here," you teased when at his side, leaning on the other side of the intricate column.

"It was Mother's idea, Rosie, you know I do not dance," he frowned. "She's not given up the hunt to make me a match. She's adamant this is the year."

"Perhaps if you participate, you could organically meet your future wife."

"Hmm," his eye rolled, thin lips quirking in a smirk; gaze turned on you, watching you scan the room.

There was another 20 minutes of mingling before dinner was called, laid out on tables that stretched the entire length of the Throne Room. Naturally, like every single day, you and Aemond took side-by-side seats together at a risen table that hosted the royal family which provided an incredible view of those in attendance this eve. With your elbow, you nudged Aemond's bicep, making him lean over instantly so you could speak in his ear quietly. "Looks like Lady Fell and Lord Blackwood are gonna jump each other's bones," you mused, smirking, adding, "though I heard she's already hiding a growing belly and is trying to nab herself someone more mature in age with the intent to trick the Lord into thinking she's having his baby."

"No," he scoffed in amusement.

"Yes!"

"That's diabolical. Blackwood's the father? Truly?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Good for him, good for Blackwood - didn't know he had it in him." He paused to take a pull from his goblet of wine, continuing, "Hm! Look, look," he grinned coyly, "do you see what I see?"

"It's packed in here, so... No, I don't see whatever you're seeing."

He snickered, "Lady Mormont looks smitten with Lord Greyjoy, looks like she wants to eat him."

"I thought he was romancing Lady Redwyne?"

Aemond hummed in amusement, "Perhaps he is considering options, courting more than one lady. Are we taking bets this season, again?"

You grinned, "Of course."

"Lay out the criteria, what're the parameters?"

After thinking a moment, you answered, "The pairing and timeline of impending weddings?"

"The stakes?"

You just shrugged, "Bragging rights?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie," he tisked.

"Fine, uh, how about... 10 Gold Dragons?"

"Both our families have enough money."

"Then you decide the rewards."

He lowered his voice, ensuring his family couldn't eavesdrop, "If you win, I'll go to Highgarden with you next time you visit. But if I win, you have to come flying with me on Vha - "

"No," you snapped instantly.

Aemond smirked, "Those are the terms, my Lady. Do you accept? Or will the Rose of the Realm shy away from challenge?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"Fine," you relented. "You're eager to lose so bad, let's do it. Who do you think will couple first?"

"Does it count if I get at least one correct? Such as, if I predict Lord Umber and Lady Lannister, but Umber marries Lady Tully, does it count that I still predicted Umber?"

You mulled his idea over, humming, stabbing a piece of roast goose from your plate to place in your mouth and chew thoughtfully. "Hmm, no, no, you gotta get the couple completely correct."

Aemond nodded, accepting your terms, "You really don't wish to go flying, do you?"

"What gave me away?"

Sharing a chuckle, Aemond finished, "All right, Rosie, bring it on."

When dinner concluded, once more, patrons were allowed to mix and mingle; dancing to the live band, drink spiced wine to their heart's desires. Like the common wallflowers you were, you posted at the side of the room with Aemond, content to watch the sea of vying adults trying to establish and rush courtship. It was the most comfortable you could be at these events, being anxious in judgmental crowds and seeking salvation from Aemond's domineering aura.

"Lady Tyrell," Jason Lannister purred as he approached you with his chest puffed out, "I was hoping to hold your ear tonight. Your father was telling me about your love to ride horses."

"Oh, my father said that?"

"That's who he said he was - "

"My father's in Highgarden, my Lord," you corrected, knowing for fact that Evin always described himself as your uncle.

"Ah, well, right," Jason cleared his throat in embarrassment. Did this pompous arsehole just lie about talking to your father to give the illusion he was an honorable man? That your father approved of the golden headed Lannister? "Perhaps you would honor me with a dance?"

"Perhaps not," Aemond cut in sharply, bringing the tension to focus.

"My Lord," you distracted, on behalf of Aemond's anger, "uh, thank you for asking, that's very kind of you. Though I'm afraid, I'm all, uh, danced out. I won't be on my feet much longer."

"Means fuck off, Lannister," Aemond growled, appearing positively murderous at the honey blonde's audacity.

Jason eyed Aemond, stiffly bidding, "I see. My Prince, my Lady, enjoy your evening."

You bid the older widower the same, Aemond chuckling the moment the lion was swallowed by the crowd. "As if you'd ever dance with a Lannister, let alone court him," he mused, looking down at you. "But he had the right idea, you need to dance at least once. Shouldn't waste this dress standing on the side with me."

"I'm quite comfortable here with you," you shrugged off, seeing your uncle at the royal banquet table exchanging hushed words with King Viserys and his Queen, Alicent.

"C'mon," he held his hand in offer, palm up.

"What? No, no, Aemond, I'm not dancing - I've two left feet!"

"You can break every toe on my feet and I'd still ask you. Just one dance. With me, Lady Tyrell."

"You don't dance!"

"Perhaps the mood has taken me. C'mon, petal."

Your head turned from left to right as if looking for someone spying on you. The moment your hand laid daintily in his, you melted right there on the spot, not having any coherent recollection about how you ended up in the middle of the overzealous contenders. You realized you'd follow this man anywhere.

Beating off your immense anticipation and overwhelming excitement to join The One-Eyed Prince for an intimate activity, you kept your composure amongst everyone else. But, my Gods, did you want to scream in delight the moment he placed one hand on your waist and the other clasping yours to raise in the air at your side. But in this position, you could feel the ridges of his stomach - making you briefly feel embarrassed, wondering how you must've looked to the members of court.

"You sure about this?" You whispered nervously, but you had a feeling that was due to the intense concentration he pinned you with.

"We'll be fine, Rosie, just breathe and follow my lead. I got you."

So launched your dance with Prince Aemond Trgaryen, second son of King Viserys. You couldn't divert your gaze from his porcelain, angled face to save you from overthinking your dancing skill - or lack there of. A few times, he'd smirk and whisper how good you were doing, mind flashing to an image of you and he, married, tumbling in bed sheets together while he praises you. Everything he did became sinful to you; every touch, every glance, every smile, every private studying session setting your skin on fire and heart to beat rapidly.

It was a longer song, string instruments creating a pleasant, ideal, slow-paced, soft environment. Yet you couldn't hear the music, too focused on Aemond's single piercing eye and quirked lips. It was as if the two of you existed outside of time and reality, forgetting the people packed in the stuffy room. Aemond told you softly, "See? You're not so bad at dancing - you just need the right partner."

You wanted to be partnered every single dance from now until your death with Aemond.

"I thought you couldn't dance?" You coyly questioned.

"I said I don't dance, not that I couldn't."

To your idle shock, Aemond gave you a few twirls that made your hair and dress fan around you in an angelic motion. Dare you say it, you even laughed with mirth when you found yourself enjoying the courting season more than ever before - all thanks to your best friend and hopefully, soon-to-be intended. You were acutely aware of his hot and heavy hands holding your flesh, knowing this feeling would burn into your skin to remind you of his closer-than-close proximity. To remind you of his gentleness, to remind you of this dance and the way he gave you his complete and undivided attention.

When the musicians concluded the song, you were grinning authentically while joining in the applause to show appreciation towards the artists.

"Gods," you panted, "that nearly winded me. Think I'm out of shape."

"And you said you had two left feet," he mocked with a scoff, head shaking, but the smirk on his lips told you he wasn't serious. "You're a natural, Rosie."

"You're not such a bad dancer yourself, my Prince," you complimented, the applause subsiding as a new song began. "Though you'll have to excuse me while I get a drink."

You parted way in search of two empty goblets and one of the servants carrying decanters of spiced wine. After being served, you rocked on your toes to try and gaze over the heads populating the room. You were unsuccessful, so, you backed up to the edge of the crowd and moved around the involuntary empty loop along the wall, behind the pillars. There was no reason finding the white haired prince with an eyepatch would be this difficult, yet, you got more than halfway around the room before finally locating him.

Once again, he was leaning on a column, but he wasn't alone. No, there was a gaggle of Lords around him, all exchanging chatter about the Ladies they had to choose from this season.

"Well, c'mon, what about you, Aemond?" Cregan Stark pondered. "Things with The Rose look like they're escalating - congrats. Are wedding bells on the horizon?"

Hearing your name, you quickly scurried behind the same pillar, just out of sight but able to still listen. Look, eavesdropping was highly frowned upon, you knew it was bad manners, but if you heard men gossiping about your name, you would've done the exact same!

Aemond scoffed in pure amusement, "Come off it, Stark."

"No, c'mon, mate, I saw you two," Cregan continued, "dancing together, pressed all close."

"You two make a handsome match, logistically speaking," Paxtan Florant labeled. "Could marry someone abundantly worse, I think you two are quite the pair."

"Handsome and logical as it may look, there's no possibility I'd court the Lady Tyrell, let alone marry her," Aemond declared with a chuckle, your heart stalling and brows wrinkling together. "The Tyrells only just obtained their name in court, they're still too low born for a prince to entertain. Peasants like that are uneducated, prominently not intelligent enough to be my counterpart; uncultured, unwise, unable to retain most information we study during lessons."

You blinked in shock. If anything, you were Aemond's ONLY intellectual counterpart!

"So, she's not as smart as you, mate, so what?" Cregan cocked his head. "You don't need smart, you need fertile and capable."

Though he was attempting to defend you, Cregan's words made your skin prickle. How could they think you weren't intellectually on their level? Was it because you were a woman? You read the same books, attended the same tutoring sessions, was questioned on the same material they were and hardly ever answering incorrectly! And yet now you're reduced to your reproduction system?

The Prince scoffed, "Think about it, if I married a Tyrell, their lowly standing would taint the Targaryen bloodline."

"So, it was all an act?" Paxtan snickered, "C'mon, mate, you two looked dazed, all enamored with each other. Can't convince us there's nothing there, not after that."

Aemond chuckled, "You want the truth?"

"Lay it on us."

"I shared a single dance with her because I pity her. Don't any of you? The way she all but repels suitors? Surely, you've noted her dresses as well? They're terribly revealing, unlike anything a proper lady would don. No self respecting woman nor future princess of mine would wear something like that. It's as if she's so desperate for attention that she has to flaunt her flesh just to get a man to look at her since her personality surely doesn't reel suitors to her."

The men laughed, your mouth dropping open in offense. You're not chasing men away - look what happened with Jason Lannister! It was Aemond who told him to fuck off! After years of friendship, was this truly what Aemond thought of you? How did it come to this - the man you loved, the man you considered your best mate, slandering your name to any able ear willing to listen? How could he speak such calamities about you? Was this entire friendship a folly, just a cover for his pity? Was he only your 'friend' to entertain his own selfish boredom?

Was everything just in your head?

"I don't know, I like how she dresses," Tyler Lannister mused, the teenaged son of Tyland Lannister, Jason's twin brother.

"None the less, I find desperation unattractive in a woman," Aemond rejected, tears gathering in your eyes to silently stream down your cheeks. "Besides, Lady Tyrell isn't my type, she talks far too much. Truly, there's never a moment of silence, I cannot even hear my own thoughts when she's prattling - and it's never anything of substance, just useless nonsense. It's as I said, it was a pity dance, I felt sorry that she has little to no suitors."

"Seriously, mate, have you considered the reason she has no suitors might be because of her proximity to you? They might stay away because they feel threatened by your friendship, thinking she's spoken for - and trust me, no man here would dare compete against a prince for a lady's affection," Cregan scoffed, mildly disgusted by Aemond's choice words.

"The courts know there's no affection shared between Lady Tyrell and I. We are simply friends - no more or less - and that's as far as our relationship will ever progress."

Cregan hummed, nodding his head sarcastically. Then his curiosity questioned, "Answer this: are you attracted to her?"

"Truthfully, I just don't think she's... Attractive enough to be my wife. She's a pretty lass, I'll admit, but if she's called the Rose of the Realm, I fear to learn the appearance of other ladies from Highgarden." A few lads chuckled. "Additionally, there will be public outings I must attend, and as my wife, the people will expect to see someone alluring - someone qualified and fit for the position as a princess of the Realm. Someone stunning and worthy of the title, able to fulfill royal responsibilities."

"Gods, why're you so against this match? You're being terribly superficial, judgmental, and defensive - she's your friend, after all. Wouldn't this be a love-match? Do you know how rare those are?" Luras Arryn snarled, sounding genuinely distraught and jealous.

"And if you're so against her, why do you constantly escort her to formal events?" Arnas Blackwood tacked on. "It creates the illusion that you're courting, my Prince, surely you're aware of that."

"As I stated, her blood isn't pure, but she's also criminally clingy. She's always lingering around and I feel awkward not inviting her to royal events - since she's right there, all alone, in front of me. I only invite her out of obligation. Again, I take pity on the girl, knowing when she leaves the Red Keep, she'll never experience this life again."

"Well, if not the Rose of the Realm, who do you have your sights on?" Luras Arryn asked stiffly.

Aemond's smirk was clear as day, answering swiftly, "The Lady Floris Baratheon is appealing enough."

The lads obnoxiously cheered in supportive approval, directing the conversation in a new direction about how bloody gorgeous Floris was - one of them even mentioning she deserved the nickname, Rose of the Realm.

You heard enough, more than enough, more than you ever wanted to know in an entire lifetime; rightfully insulted past belief and violently nauseated, feeling cold and mechanical. As swiftly as you could, you rushed to set the goblets down and speed walk towards the doors, shoving past both individuals and couples; not wanting to linger where you're clearly not wanted. Where you were apparently not welcome. After making your inconspicuous getaway, tears fell faster than earlier, mind replaying Aemond's words while sprinting to your chambers.

Describing you as clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Dubbing you an improper lady who lacked self respect. Thinking you talk too much - that you prattle nonsense. Labeling you unworthy and unqualified to be his wife or assume the title princess with all the relating responsibilities. How he pities you and doesn't ever want to be more than your friend; thinking you're uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Declaring House Tyrell peasants who would taint his family's pure bloodline. How you 'have' to flaunt your flesh to attract suitors - since your personality did you no favors. Marking you a friend out of obligation...

Were you even friends? Did you even understand the definition of a friend? Have you been operating in a delusion this whole time?

In the words of King Théoden: how did it come to this?

Feeling utterly humiliated, you ran away from your peers; lungs heaving, huffing and puffing, panic ready to overflow. You burst through the wooden door, fully sobbing by now, engaging the iron lock and dropping to lean your weight against it.

Most, if not all, of your insecurities were aired out like soiled bedsheets for all eligible bachelors to know. Aemond might as well have hung a painted wooden sign around your neck: DESPERATE AND CLINGY LOSER - DO NOT ENGAGE.

Nothing about this situation felt normal, it all felt terribly impossible; absolutely heartbreaking and vile, like it was some kind of bad dream. But everyone woke up from dreams. You'd never wake up from this, you'd be forced to remember and relive it day after day. Tonight would haunt you, cast a dark shadow around you as if a thick, temperamental, torrential storm. Yet every storm eventually breaks, but tonight, there was no remedy, no shelter, no protection - you had to weather this alone.

It felt foreign, enduring anything by yourself. For years, Aemond was your partner, always at your side, level headed, insightful and wise; supportive, protective, calming, and something like a safety net when you faced trouble. Now, he's left you devastatingly alone; where after tonight, the very idea of being in the same room as him made you nauseated and anxious, fearful and small.

In that moment, your brain screamed that you were no longer welcome in the Red Keep - Uncle Evin's position be damned.

You sat on the stone cold floor for the better part of half an hour before your bottom turned painfully numb. After sluggishly hiking up your dress skirt, you removed your shoes and tossed them aside, standing to swollen feet to unhook your jewelry and place everything in their safe and proper place. Then, a particular necklace made of red rubies set in a thinly crafted Valyrian Steel chain caught your eye and mocked you. It was Aemond's gift on your ten-and-eighth nameday, laid in a plush velvet case for adequate preservation. This simple piece of jewelry was your absolute favorite in your collection, a treasure beyond words of appreciation that you greatly admired, now rusting in salty tears.

Being gifted this necklace had once convinced you Aemond might've felt the same for you as you do him. You remember even trying to rationalize it as a sign that the One-Eyed Prince was at a loss and didn't know how to confess his feelings. That he was shy, perhaps afraid to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Angry tears of betrayal fell like acid over your cheeks, gritting your teeth, clenching your jaw as you snapped the velvet box closed and with a barbaric grunt, hurled it (with impressive strength) across the room. You felt so confused, so lost; deceived, lied to, and puppeted - and then the anger flared again when you realized what family you were angry with.

Why bother being upset, emotional, distressed? You had no right because your feelings truly didn't matter - not in the grand scheme of things. Nobody cared about your trivial feelings! You were just a Tyrell and by comparison, a peasant nobody who never deserved, earned, warranted, or was bestowed respect. In fact, to the Targaryens up on their mounted pedestals, none of you mattered - not a citizen in all Seven Kingdoms.

In fact, it was almost treated as a curse to not be a Targaryen. Some kind of punishment for daring to exist amongst the privileged royals as a lowborn - which, despite your family's newly established status in court, you were still characterized as. In their eyes, anyone NOT a Targaryen was lowborn; deemed unworthy to the white haired bloodline, being merely tolerated for the sake of politics, strategy, and reproduction. It was a sick game, and the Targaryens always won.

They do what they want, when they want, with no consideration towards other people's safety, emotions, wellbeing, stability, or comfort. The Targaryens were always stationed above everyone because, after all, they were closer to Gods than men; entire family spoiled, entitled, narcissistic, holier than thou, avoidant of any and all consequence.

They're legendary. Untouchable and worshipped.

And you? You're just a Tyrell, the tiny beetle trampled under the God's boot. Beetles were essential to any ecosystem, similar to the Tyrell's providing to the Realm productions of wheat, grain, barley, and corn. Similar to your family, beetles are also disposable - meaning the Targaryens might tolerate you, but they never need respect you. They could stomp you into the ground whenever they wanted because where one beetle died, three more takes place. Where one House might falter and fall, become doomed, eradicated, or subcomes to tragedy, others step up in an effort to establish their usefulness; prove their House's necessity to the Realm's ecosystem, attempt to diminish the threat of being razed to the ground by dragon fire.

Why be so upset with the Targaryens when they can do no wrong? What right did you have? And how could you ever think a Prince of the Realm would remotely be romantically interested in you?

You felt delusional and pathetic, crying over a man who was never in your league. Yet betrayal gutted you like a fish, a bright reminder that your friend would expose you like that; offer loud disrespect, speaking hatefully, to finally voice hidden malcontent. It felt impossible to stomach that your first friend, your favorite person, secretly hated you.

Because how could he not? You did not love anyone you could speak so lowly of.

Sobbing harder, you yanked pins out of your hair, working at break-neck speed to strip from your gown, then freezing when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looked distraught with exhausted red eyes; glowing in defeat, in a desperate need for a long, hot soak in the washtub. With shaking hands, you tossed a spare blanket over the mirror, despising the sight of yourself as Aemond's words continued to ring on a loop in your ears.

Clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Improper, lacks self respect, talks too much, lacks suitors. Unworthy, unqualified, pitiful, never desiring to bloom past friendship - which is constructed around obligation. Uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Unfit, tainted, lowborn blood with a lowly personality. Revealing, tempting dresses.

Your mind, heart, and head screamed that no matter how hard you hoped, prayed, and tried, you'd never have a place among the Targaryens. Yelled that Aemond's right: you're ugly on the inside and out; damaged goods, undesirable - all because you were not born amongst fire and blood. Bellowed about your lack of quality, purpose, contribution. Reminded you that the one person you trusted unconditionally never truly wanted to be your friend; that he spoke horrendously on your name when absent, didn't value who you were - and never did.

He took every insecurity you confided in him and weaponized it; used it against you, made it into a joke with people you didn't trust nor want to know about you...

You sunk into the bath water, submerging as if to hide from your own thoughts.

The knock at your chamber door didn't surprise you. Servants and your uncle had been coming and going since you first refused to leave the morning after the ball. You figured Aemond would come around eventually, too curious for his own good and still under the impression he had to play "friend", thinking his deceit was unknown to you.

Aemond called your name through the door, asking, "You awake? Could I come in?"

You didn't answer.

He sighed, "C'mon, I know you're there. You haven't been seen in four days, you have to eat. You should get some air, feel the sunshine."

Silence.

Aemond frowned, "When you're ready, come find me, petal. I'm worried about you."

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, pulling your knees to your chest. For four days, you couldn't stomach the idea of running into the Prince, just wanting to avoid anyone or anything that would remind you of what Aemond said. You understood there were several decisions left to be settled, lost in an endless rampage of confusing emotions, maids bring you full trays of food and removing them with more than half still left.

Humiliation knotted in your chest, the harrowing thought of punishing yourself for being so stupid something you couldn't fight. All you registered was the feeling of betrayal, something that inked into every single thought you had, but with it came sinking realization that you were done. Simple as that.

On the sixth night, you sat with Uncle Evin, forking through your full plate and blurting, "Don't do it."

He paused to finish the bite in his mouth, "Do what, honey girl?"

"Don't - Don't make a match with Alicent and Otto. Don't make the arrangement with Prince Aemond."

Evin nodded slowly, washing his bite down with a mouthful of wine. "There a reason for your change of heart, love? The Queen thinks it's a handsome pairing. Just before, you seemed content with the match - dare I say, you seemed pleased?"

"Things change, Uncle," you spoke evenly, "and I can't shoulder this responsibility. In fact, I... I do not think I'm capable of making my own match. I will be stepping away from courting for the time being."

Your eyes seemed distant and dark, proving serious. So Elvin agreed easily, allowing you to withdrawal from the current season officially. He understood something was deeply amiss and didn't want to make worse whatever turmoil you teetered in. He didn't want to upset you and make things worse - you obviously had enough going on.

Aemond knocked again the next day, "Petal? You awake?" But you didn't answer. He sighed, "You've been missing lessons, love, and I just... I brought you some books. Thought maybe you'd like to catch up?" When there was no answer, he ended, "I'll just leave them here for you, petal... I'm not sure what's wrong, but I hope you're all right in there... I miss you."

You scoffed quietly, wiping your tears.

Ten days after withdrawing from the courting season, you left your chambers for the first time. But it wasn't like anything changed - it was still as if you were invisible, like a ghost. Losing your best mate turned you silent, refusing to attend lessons and since Aemond was your source for solace, had turned to seeking shelter at the Sept. It was the easiest way to avoid everyone - mostly Aemond.

He had shunned the religion the older he got, though respected his mother's devotion to it in trying times. He couldn't remember the last time he was in the Sept... So, it was perfect for you; a safe space.

You were no longer seen in the library - a once daily occurrence. If you ever wanted to read, you sent your ladies maid to collect content for you; but the drive to learn and read had abandoned you as swiftly as Aemond's loyalty. The stables grew cold in your absence, refusing to ride; something that troubled your uncle gravely. No longer did you take meals with family or Aemond, always seeking solitude to eat alone in your room or the physical kitchens; the Red Keep growing dark over your lack of sunshine - that had shone so brightly in the previous weeks. Even then, when you ate, it was in small quantities to only sustain yourself; mostly feeling nauseous when food was put on your stomach.

The first time Aemond saw you, you were returning from the Sept in a dress that reached close to your pulse point of your neck. He tried to get to you, but you slipped through the cracks of the Keep and disappeared when he dodged around a set of Kingsguard. Yet it was still a comfort to him to know you had left your room finally.

He knocked on your door about half an hour later, but like usual, you didn't answer.

"Rosie?" Aemond called, sighing. "I know you've not been feeling yourself, but, uh, tomorrow's Helaena's nameday. We're having dinner for her on the terrace..." He waisted, not hearing a single thing from within your chamber. "You're invited, as usual, petal. Your uncle said he'd attend, wanted you to know you're always welcome at our table."

But you didn't show up, you couldn't bear to see any of them.

You didn't eat that night, you were far too anxious and spiteful against yourself that you refused to allow yourself to indulge in celebrating your companion.

Despite withdrawing, you still heard rumor of all the matches being made and the courtships established through your ladies maid. A cord struck in your gut when you heard the couples you had bet upon were public and engaged, but so were Aemonds... Which meant you both won; and if things were different, would mean a flight on Vhagar to visit Highgarden. On nights of merriment, you would sit alone in the Godswood sometimes; attempting to connect to the Old Gods, but they never spoke back. They never connected with you.

Tonight, you were under the blood red leaves in earnest curiosity; quiet, just as you had been since the day you found out Aemond's betrayal and discouraged your uncle from making a match. It was there Elvin found you, frowning as he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"The Old Gods do not speak to me," Elvin offered softly.

"Nor I," you whispered.

"Yet I always feel at peace here," he nodded, sighing deeply. "I must ask you something, honey girl."

"Hmm?"

"Do you... Do you wish to depart? From King's Landing, I mean?" He questioned. "I ask because I intend to ride for Highgarden, your father's nameday nears. Your mother intends to throw him a grand celebration, since turning 50 seems such a milestone."

"You ride for home?"

"Tomorrow morning."

You paused, then answered, "I would like that... There's nothing left for me here."

Aemond's words had done irreparable damage, making you feel worthless and alone. Bitter. Damaged and unworthy of any such match; forever worrying if your best friend could harbor such ill will and hatred for you, surely, a husband would as well. Yet you were not new to being a woman; you knew the role you were to play, how marriage was strategic and calculated. Political. You could be a wife, you were so sure of it; but would you ever feel worthy of love? You feared you never would.

"We will stay a few weeks."

"I don't know if I would like to return, Uncle."

He offered a sad smile, "I figured as much. But should you want to, feel able to, you may return. You, my sweetling, are always welcome at my side."

You leaned into his shoulder, sighing softly. "I should thank you," you whispered in the wind.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me all these years," you lifted off him to meet his eyes. "You didn't have to, but you wanted to... And you've shown me a father's love when I thought it gone from my life. Thank you, Uncle."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, humming, "Don't tell the others but you were always my favorite. I consider it a great pleasure to raise such a gorgeous young lady - and I mean that, honey girl. Inside and out. Now," he pulled back and found his feet, offering his hand to you, "come, we've packing to complete."

"Of course."

However, while in the midst of packing, you felt a jolt in your heart. This had been your home of a decade or more; these people were who you grew and learned with. Who influenced your life in the best and worst of ways; they did not deserve to read your praise and thanks for friendship in a letter... So, you swung a cloak on and ventured out of your room.

Otto was first since he was the easiest to say goodbye to. He was gracious of your parting words of thanks; telling him how much you appreciated his wisdom and riddles.

Aegon was next. He insisted you share a last goblet of wine together - since you did not intend to delay your parting. It turned into a bit of a drinking game with his mates, but you didn't mind; far too used to the company of these debaucherous lechers. Dare you say, you enjoyed yourself.

Helaena was after, your words harder to say as your emotions strangled you. She was a sweet girl, an endearing companion, constant and dependable, albeit a bit strange and unorthodox. But you loved her all the same and cried tears of sadness when hugging her tightly as a last ditch effort to convey your gratitude for her authentic and generous friendship.

You only offered Ser Criston Cole a soft, "Farewell."

Alicent was perhaps hardest to say goodbye to. After Aemond, you were probably closest with the matriarch and found her wisdom and lessons a privilege to learn. She was kind to you; usually with a stern hand, but that was because she could recognize the little girl you once were who missed her mother tremendously. She introduced you to religion, another common bond. She encouraged you, supportive and curious; sharing affinity for the histories, often reading to one another for moments of peace.

Saying goodbye to Alicent hurt. You both shed tears of sorrow, the Queen wishing you the very best and insisting you return for her nameday and other celebratory events. She told you to write, told you to keep in touch; insisting if and when a match was made, to invite her since she would love to attend your wedding. Truly, Alicent considered you one of her own and to know you were departing in pain wounded her.

King Viserys was last. He was already in bed, half-asleep, a Maester at his side; but still, he accepted your audience. You thanked him for his hospitality and kindness - especially to your uncle. You thanked him for hosting you, for allowing you residence at the Keep and the for the years living under royal privilege. You told him you'd not forget his generosity.

You returned to your chambers after that and finished packing. You didn't sleep.

When morning broke, you stood in the courtyard with Elvin; packing the wagon you would use, your horse tacked and waiting as you both intended to ride. Alicent and Helaena came to see you off, hugging you tightly one last time before the Queen offered you a handheld velveteen case. "Just a little something to remember us by," she smiled lightly.

"Oh, as if I'm in a hurry to forget you?" You mused. "My Queen, this is too much, I cannot accept."

"You have not opened it."

"I do not need to, I know you," you smirked. "Your leadership these years is enough gift, my Queen."

"I'm not taking it back, you might as well accept it," she insisted. "Helaena and I picked it out together..."

You lifted the case lid, blinking in shock and gasping lightly. There laid a gorgeous chain necklace of Valyrian Steel, a dragon pendant dangling from front with gems of bright emerald - surely a representation of the Hightower side.

"Thank you, Your Grace, my Princess," you breathed, closing the case and caressing it to your chest. "It's more generous than I deserve but will treasure for the decades to come."

Queen Alicent nodded and pecked your forehead, leaving you alone with Helaena to speak with Elvin. The moment her mother was gone, the Princess asked, "Did you say goodbye to Aemond? I'm surprised he's not here."

"No," you spoke softly, "I cannot, Helaena, it is too painful to even look at him - let alone share words of parting. I have nothing left to say, no more words for him."

She frowned, "You know... I don't think he meant what he said. He says things he does not mean when anxious or feeling as if he's cornered."

Your head cocked, "What? H-How do you know what's been said?"

"I saw it - in one of my dreams."

You sighed, "I know you mean well - "

"I just do not wish for you to think that is his honest opinion about you."

"If it wasn't, he would not have spoken so loudly for so many to hear. Your brother has never sounded so sure, Helaena, I do not wish to relive it."

She sighed and nodded, "Will you write?"

"Every week," you promised, the two of you meeting foreheads and breathing as one. "Take care of yourself, Helaena."

"You, too, Rosie," she smiled, letting you depart. Alicent clipped your new necklace in place and gvae you a final hug, watching you mount your horse, stare at the pair for a moment longer, then follow your Uncle Elvin out of the courtyard.

As you rode down the streets, Aemond came sprinting out of the Keep in a blind panic after running into Aegon in the hall. Normally, Aemond wouldn't have bat an eye at his hungover brother, but he had said something about you drinking him under the table and demanded to know what Aegon meant. Upon hearing you had "left", Aemond sprinted to your bed chambers and didn't even knock - just burst in.

Never before had the Prince felt such anger as when he learned you had left King's Landing without saying goodbye. Without a single word to him - as if the past decade+ hadn't meant anything! He needed to know, Aemond needed to see for himself the truth because surely, someone was mistaken. His brother, surely still drunk and misremembering because there was no possible way you could've left! Not without Aemond! Not without a word! He refused to believe it.

He panted, tears gathering in his eye, finding your room bare and stripped. Aemond's breathing picked up in panic, hands shaking as he stepped into your room; looking, desperately, for any sign of life. But there was nothing... Nothing, save for a letter addressed to him left on your table with the ruby necklace he gifted you for your 18th nameday.

Gingerly, Aemond reached out and plucked up the necklace. He frowned, petting the jewels in disbelief; noting the way a few were missing, some loose - evidence of your anger. Slowly, Aemond sunk into a chair and with the necklace still in hand and his heart hammering in his chest in a rattle, opened your letter.

Aemond ― I know you'll be the one to find this, of that, there's no doubt. Sooner or later, you will learn of my departure and come looking, and for that, for being unable to say anything in person, I am sorry. Though this might come as a shock, it shouldn't as I would hate to give you the satisfaction of being right by burdening you with a desperate goodbye. I would hate for you to think I am clingy, even after our friendship died. So, I figure a letter is better than nothing. Goodbye, Aemond. Though all a lie and dedicated ruse, thank you for the years of friendship. You made time in the Red Keep pleasant enough. ― Rosie

Aemond sprinted to the courtyard, flinging open doors and shoving past patrons; desperate to find you, understanding you overheard him all those weeks ago and needing to apologize. He needed to explain himself, the confirmation now that Aemond was the cause of your pain and reclusion? His heart was about to burst. He skidded to a halt in the dirt, turning left and right and in a circle as he realized the gates were open and you were not in sight.

"Aemond?" Helaena questioned softly, Alicent taking to her side. "Brother?"

"Wh-Where is she?" He panted. "Rose - Rose - Rosie, where is she? Where is she!?"

"She's gone, Aemond," Alicent frowned, shaking her head slowly; startled by his desperate tone, "gone with her uncle back to Highgarden."

"When? When? When did they leave!?"

"She's gone, brother," Helaena snipped, sending him a look of disappointment; ears ringing from her dream, repeating what he had said to you.

Aemond swallowed harshly, asking his sister, "She heard me, didn't she? I know you know, Helaena, please, tell me. She heard me?"

The Princess nodded and walked away, the One Eyed Prince turning to his mother in desperation and for the first time in 10 years, perhaps more, he collapsed in her arms. Emotion clawed at his chest and into his throat, starting to tremble, sniffing heatedly; his mother's arms tight and comforting.

"I love her," he whispered.

"I know," Alicent answered, "but she should've been the one you told." A pause and her hand lifted to caress the back of his head, just like when he was a child. "It's too late now, Aemond. She's gone."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

does this count towards the Clingy Baby collection? since Aemond technically calls her clingy amongst other things?

562 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 18 days

Text

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 4) - Above The Gods Eye

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I had envisioned bonus chapters as not too integral to the main plot (as in, you will be able to follow the story without reading them), but this one... this one might just count.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A series of moments from the vault, occurring in part eight of the story, now yours to enjoy. 🤍

The one with the second sons…

The photoshoot has wrapped, and the cast of House of the Dragon has drifted into all corners of the set, exchanging laughs in between much-needed sips of caffeine. The next item on Entertainment Weekly’s agenda is the video segment recordings, pairing cast members for various games and interviews.

Fabien and Freddie finished their narrative recap of season 2, with more jokes than actual informative recaps. Harry and Bethany played a game where they guessed whether the line is from House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones. Tom and Emma played a ‘which sibling' game, leaning into the dynamic between Aegon and Rhaenyra that clearly should have been explored in previous seasons.

As it happens, Matt and Ewan are paired up for an Aemond or Daemon game, meant to give the audiences a glimpse of what to look forward to. Their notorious rivalry, culminating in a battle that will be their last.

The two film their segment in Studio E, the set consisting of the great cellar of the Red Keep where Balerion’s massive skull looms on a pedestal. The dozens of candles surrounding it have been lit, casting dramatic shadows as they take their seats, facing each other in what could easily be mistaken for the start of a duel.

“My name is Ewan Mitchell and I play Aemond Targaryen,” Ewan starts.

“And I’m Matt and I play the Daemon Targaryen,” Matt follows. “And we’re about to play Second Sons: Aemond vs Daemon.”

“Let’s go,” Ewan rolls his shoulders, his sense of competitiveness all fired up, intensified by the fact that the man in front of him potentially could become his rival off-screen. That is, when it concerns the battle for your affections.

He can still hear it ringing in his ears, the sound of your laughter in the background, distracting him during the photoshoot. That laugh, so addictive, so yours, was a melody he could listen to forever - except when it’s Matt Smith who’s the culprit.

The lads take their cue to read the first prompt displayed on a screen above the camera. The game begins.

“Who is the better swordsman?” Matt reads aloud with a smirk. “Well, that’s obviously Daemon, mate. He’s older - ”

“Age doesn’t always mean better,” Ewan counters smoothly.

“Ah, but he’s battle-tested. He fought in the Stepstones, and was the Commander of the City Watch, for heaven’s sake. What’s Aemond got?”

“Aemond spent years and years training with Criston Cole in the Red Keep yard, honing his skill,” Ewan argues. “He clearly has the dedication. He’s disciplined.”

“Training,” Matt scoffs, turning to the camera as if sharing an inside joke. “Put Aemond out there in a real battle, then we’ll talk.”

“Alright, alright,” Ewan concedes, biting his cheek to keep from saying more. “Next one. Who’s the better dancer at the royal ball?”

Matt can’t help but chuckle, “Neither of us are inclined to - ”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“But if we had to pick, then I'd say Daemon. We saw him dancing in the first season, didn’t we?”

“I don’t think Aemond would be much of a dancer,” Ewan says, before adding with a smirk to the camera, “unless it’s with Vhagar.”

“Oh, yeah?” Matt asks him. “Short of dancing partners, is he? Can’t say I’ve got that problem. I’ve got Rhaenyra, I’ve got my daughters, and of course, the lovely Alyna.” His voice drops at the mention of your character, and he notices a telling flicker in Ewan’s expression. The younger boy latches on to it, hook, line and sinker.

Ewan’s brows scrunch, not missing the bait. “Oh, she wouldn’t dance with you,” flies out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Alyna wouldn’t?” Matt tilts his head, feigning hurt.

“She’s… she’s too busy fighting the war,” Ewan quickly musters. “She’s got better things to do.”

“Mate, I think we all are. But that wasn’t the question.”

“I just don’t think she - ”

“She’ll dance with Daemon,” Matt says confidently. “Once she realises how good he is, then it’s game over.”

“I disagree,” Ewan easily says to the camera, willing the viewers to side with him.

“Next,” Matt continues, “Who’s more likely to get into a fight at the tavern? Is this… so far, it's been all Daemon! This one too.”

Ewan nods, but adds slyly, “Aemond’s not one to waste his time at the tavern, no.” His answer is an apparent concession to Daemon, until he adds, “which is why Alyna would prefer to spend her time with him. He’s calmer… more reliable… no unnecessary tavern brawls or anything…”

“Calmer, mate?” Matt rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself. “Come off it, yeah?”

“Compared to Daemon, he clearly is.”

“He killed Luke and Rhaenys!”

“That was an accident,” Ewan shrugs. “He feels bad for it.”

“Alyna better steer clear,” Matt points to the camera, making his point.

Ewan shakes his head in protest, “I don’t agree.”

“So, for this one, again, it’s Daemon,” Matt finishes.

Ewan lets it go, the Alyna comment lingering in the back of his mind. It didn’t seem like an Alyna reference; it felt like a message to you. His stomach twists, suspicious of the other game Matt seems to be playing at. Turning to the prompter, Ewan reads, “Who’s got… the better hair care routine? Oh wow.”

“Daemon’s been at some dingy castle,” Matt says, “clearly no showers there. Forget it.”

“Aemond’s got this locked down,” Ewan grins.

“Has he? Alright then,” Matt responds, amused. “He does have that pin-straight hair, doesn’t he? It’s almost like… well it’s almost like it’s a bloody wig!” He laughs, and some of the onlookers behind the camera mirror the sentiment.

“I did read somewhere about Aemond having a 20-step hair care routine… ”

“20 steps? Blimey, mate. I’m surprised he even makes it out the door,” Matt says. “Would you say he’s got better hair than the women on the show? Than Alicent or Alyna maybe?”

“Oh,” Ewan leans back, mulling it over. How to one-up Matt without making it seem too obvious? He’s about to respond, when he hears some soft giggling in the corner. It appears that you’ve made your way into Studio E with Phia and Liv. The sound came from Phia, who gives him a thumbs up when she notices his diverted attention.

Matt notices your presence too, and when the director waves a hand for them to carry on, he answers for Ewan, “We could say Aemond has the better hair. Alyna’s way too busy training with Daemon anyway. We do tend to get into that rough and tumble during our sword fights.”

“Mmm,” Ewan narrows his eyes. He then ignores or conveniently forgets the fact that it’s Matt's turn to read the next question. “Who’s more likely to fight a dragon for their lover?”

The two men lock eyes, the air between them charged, more so due to your appearance. If a rivalry is what the viewers expect, then that is what they’ll get.

Matt puts a hand up. “I think Daemon’s the one with the guts to fight a bloody dragon. Daemon will stand against anything and anyone. Without a doubt.”

“It’s different with him, though, isn’t it?” Ewan responds. “Daemon would be doing it for the glory. He’d be doing it for himself. Whereas Aemond… he’d be doing it out of pure devotion.”

“Are you talking about the same devotion he had for his brother? I’d say he’s more likely to burn his lover to a crisp, than fight a dragon for her.”

“There is a completely different dynamic with his brother,” Ewan explains. “I think that when Aemond falls in love, there is nothing at all that he wouldn’t do for them. In season 2, we already kind of saw him leaning into this reputation of being the most wanted man in the realm. So… he’d fight anything for his lover, that’s for sure. He’d burn the seven kingdoms down if necessary.” He turns to look at the camera, but he catches your eye instead. You’re shaking your head slightly at his answer, but the small smile that graces your lips tells him that you enjoyed it.

He simpers at your apparent show of approval, but Matt cuts the shared moment short.

“I think Aemond’s a young buck,” Matt says, “who’s desperate to make his mark. He wouldn’t know the first thing about devotion. But Daemon… that’s been his internal struggle this whole time. He’s proven that he stands behind his brother and Rhaenyra, no matter how much he tries to act to the contrary. But yeah, we’re going a bit off track here. What was the question? Who’d fight a dragon… ”

“For their lover,” Ewan finishes. “I would still say Aemond. Daemon is too unpredictable.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Matt wags his eyebrows at him. “But I’m standing by my answer. We clearly saw Daemon basically pledge himself to Rhaenyra in the last episode. What more proof do you need?”

“Aemond’s got something up his sleeve,” Ewan says. “He just wants to be loved, that’s it, and when he finds that, there’ll be no question of what he’s capable of doing for Al - ” He catches himself at the last second, before he fully lets slip your character’s name. “I mean - ”

Matt’s eyes light up, sensing an opportunity. “For Alys, you mean?” To the camera, he adds, “spoiler alert, everyone.”

“Right,” Ewan lets out a breath, “Of course.”

“Can’t be anyone else,” Matt challenges him.

“I don’t know for now,” Ewan tries to keep up.

“You currently have a bit of a lack in the lover department,” Matt smirks.

Ewan narrows his eyes at the apparent insinuation. He better be referring to the show. “Fine, then, we can give this one to Daemon. But as to their real-life counterparts,” he locks eyes with you again, “who’s to say? I bet I have this in the bag.”

Matt follows his line of sight, pleased when your attention switches to him. “I think that’s yet to be decided.”

“Alright, we’ve got some more,” Ewan quickly says, in an attempt to divert Matt’s gaze from you.

Matt reads, “Who’s more likely to maintain a good social media presence? Oh, bloody hell, we’re crossing over into uncharted territory with this one.”

“That’s interesting.”

“I’ve never touched it myself,” Matt shrugs. “I’m not on anything, only Facebook for a moment ages ago, but I did not have any desire in going back. Oh wait, we’re meant to answer for our characters. Apologies.”

“Hmm,” Ewan nods. “I don’t know if Aemond would be on social media, no.”

“Yeah, this is a weird question,” Matt says. “Maybe Daemon then? But only to post pictures of Caraxes or something. What do you think?”

“Yeah, Daemon can take this one,” Ewan replies. “Personally, I’m not on social media too much - ”

“But didn’t you jump into the fray recently? With… which one was it?”

“Instagram? Yeah, yeah, that was something.” His mind flashes back to the pictures he had up, both attesting to his love for you. But you had asked him to take the latest one down, which led him to deactivate the account altogether. Temporarily. If the fans assumed that the action was meant to symbolise an end of his involvement with you, then now would be the perfect opportunity to prove them wrong. “I did have to take a step back, because it was kind of overwhelming. I just needed to take some proper time off.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know,” Matt says. “Did you actually share some photos there?”

Ewan smiles, pleased at being able to answer this question. “Yeah, I shared a few of my most treasured ones. They were some great pictures, but I’ve got loads more of the same in my phone, and I - ” He throws a warning glance to the camera “ - I think I’ll be keeping those to myself for now.”

Matt, oblivious as to what he’s hinting at, reads the next one. “Who’s the better brother?”

“Aemond for sure.”

“Clearly Daemon.”

And so the banter continues for a couple more prompts, sharp yet flowing naturally, foreshadowing the frenzied fan reactions when the segment is shared online for all to see.

The one where Ewan needs his cowgirl…

Ewan paces around his dressing room, settling into his outfit, awaiting his cue from set. The outfit is a bold mix of traditional Western elements and high fashion: a tailored deep brown leather jacket with intricate embroidery, a crisp white shirt with ruffled cuffs, fitted trousers, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. His boots click against the wooden floor as he moves. He’s nervous but determined to impress you, even though it’s always been you with a knack for making his heart race.

After a while, he makes his way out of the dressing room and into the bustling set. The set is decked out to the theme. The director and crew are scattered all around, but Ewan focuses solely on finding you.

When he finally does, his world seems to slow down. You are standing near a vintage saddle, dressed in your own Western-inspired attire. Your smile is radiant as you speak to your assistant, and the way your eyes light up when you see him makes his heart skip a beat. No, it never gets old, he realises, you will always have a maddening effect on him.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and saunters over with as much swagger as he could muster. “Howdy, darling,” he greets in his best cowboy lilt.

You look him up and down with a smile. “Why, hello, good sir,” you say, even doing a playful curtsy.

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, gesturing to the expanse of the set. Ready to be my cowgirl, darling? He wants to ask instead.

You hum a response. “As I’ll ever be. I’d say you’re a natural at this whole cowboy thing.”

“Oh, darling,” he smirks, “you’d be surprised by what I can do with my lasso.”

“Down, Mitchell.”

“Whatever you want, my cowgirl.”

The atmosphere is electric throughout the shoot, with Ewan constantly leaning down to whisper suggestive lines in your ear.

He finds himself getting lost in the intensity of the shoot, but his focus remains on you. It isn’t as if you are making it easy on him, with your lingering touches and flirtatious remarks.

The camera's shutter clicks away, and Ewan and you pose for one perfect shot after another. The set is alive with activity, but he only sees you, the lighting casting a warm glow on your rouge-stained cheeks. Forgetting where he is for a moment, his hand reaches up to caress your face, and he leans in slightly.

You pose accordingly, likely thinking that he’s just giving the shoot what it demands.

“What was that you were saying about a lasso?” you smirk, in an attempt to diffuse the tension, but it only spurs him on.

“Care for a demonstration?” he shoots back.

“Why not?” you reply easily, adjusting your stance.

“We may need a more intimate setting for that, darling.”

“More intimate than this?” you laugh breathlessly, the warmth of it fanning his face. He’s close enough that the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

He smiles, deaf to the low warning that escapes your lips when he leans in for a kiss on instinct.

Just as his lips are about to graze yours, the director’s voice cuts through the charged silence.

“Cut! Break, everyone!”

The spell is broken instantly. Ewan pulls back, his expression shifting from one of intense concentration to surprise and a hint of frustration.

You stand facing each other, flustered and left wanting. Ewan wants nothing more than to just reach for you and pull you in a closet, and show just how well he can use that bloody lasso. If you want him to. But he forces himself to croak, “To be continued, darling?”

You mirror his heated gaze, nodding once, before turning on your heel and heading to the break room.

When the set is mostly emptied, Ewan picks up the hefty lasso that’s been put aside. With a determined look on his face, he swings it expertly through the air, causing a resounding thwack. The movement is deliberate, a release of his frustrations about you. About Matt. About everything.

But it doesn’t quite bring him the relief he needs, because only you can offer that.

It’s only ever been you.

The one with the first date…

You glance at your phone to check the time, heart fluttering with anticipation. Matt had promised to pick you up at 2, and it is only a minute past, but you’re already standing nervously in your living room. Not a moment too soon, your buzzer alerts you of his arrival, and you press the button to allow him upstairs.

You sneak one more glance at the mirror, smoothing a hand over your t-shirt and jeans. You opted for a casual look, dressed up with some jewelry and heeled boots.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door and you grab your purse as you walk up to meet your awaited visitor.

There he is, standing in the doorway, as impossibly charming as ever. Matt’s dressed in a perfectly fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, paired with staple dark jeans. His tousled hair looks like he ran a hand through it on his way over, and his signature mischievous grin plays at the corners of his mouth as he takes you in.

“Hello there,” he greets cheerfully.

“Hey, Smithy,” you blush under his gaze.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he says, his gaze sweeping appreciatively over you, “As can be expected. You are my Alyna, after all.”

“Thanks,” you manage to say, your voice soft, almost breathless. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Glad to hear it. I was worried I’d underdressed,” he teases, though the way he carries himself shows that he knows exactly how good he looks. He steps a little closer, his hand lightly grazing your arm as he does.

“You ready to go?” he asks, his voice just a shade deeper, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that still catches you off guard, no matter how exposed you have been to his charms.

“Yeah,” you nod, suddenly aware of how close you’re standing, the air between you thick with tension. “Let’s do this.”

The late afternoon air is crisp as you walk with Matt down a quiet street near Hyde Park. The anticipation from earlier has settled into something more relaxed, yet there’s still an undercurrent of excitement, an unspoken awareness of the new territory you’re both navigating.

Matt leads you to a small café tucked away from the bustle of the city. It’s quaint, with ivy creeping up the walls and soft lights glowing through the windows. As you step inside, the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries envelops you, and you can’t help but smile. The interior is just as charming as the exterior, and a few patrons sit scattered throughout, each absorbed in their own worlds. Too absorbed to notice two somewhat renowned actors entering the premises.

“Pick a spot,” Matt says, his hand gently brushing the small of your back. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a warm tingle up your spine.

You choose the table with a view of the park just beyond the glass. Ever the gentleman, Matt pulls out a chair for you before settling into the one across from you.

“Hope you like this place,” he says, his tone easy and genuine. “It’s one of my favourites. Feels like a bit of an escape from everything, you know?”

“It’s perfect,” you reply, taking in the cozy atmosphere. “I can see why you come here.”

A waitress comes over to take your order, and Matt gives you his recommendations which you happily go along with. The familiar way with which she addresses him as Mr. Smith confirms his frequent visits. Once she leaves, you lean back in your chair, letting yourself relax into the moment, though you are aware of his eyes watching you the entire time.

“So, how are you finding the city? It’s different from set life, that’s for sure.” Matt asks, his eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. Something you can’t pinpoint just yet, though it’s not unfamiliar. You’ve seen that look before. From Ewan. The sudden thought of him drives a wedge in your focus, and you have to shake it off before you answer.

“It’s been great,” you say, smiling. “It’s nice to be able to explore it more this time around, since I've got some downtime. And, of course, the company’s been pretty good too.” You add the last part with a playful tone, which makes him chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eye. “But don’t let Ewan monopolise all your time. I’m around if you ever need a break from him.”

The mention of Ewan brings a subtle shift in the conversation. It’s light, but there’s a hint of something more - an awareness of the connection you share with Ewan that both complicates what you have, or what you could have, with Matt.

“You’re a good friend, Matt,” you say, your tone still light but more sincere. “I appreciate that.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “Friend, sure,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “But, just so you know… I’m here, if you ever want more than that.”

It’s a simple statement, but the weight of it hangs in the air between you. He’s not pressing, not trying to make you uncomfortable, but it’s clear that he’s laying his cards on the table. Matt’s always had a way of being direct without being pushy, and this moment is no different.

You meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. There’s a part of you that’s tempted, drawn in by the way he makes you laugh and feel seen. But there’s something - someone - holding you back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, smiling softly.

Matt nods again, his smile resurfaces, as sure as the sun rising. “That’s all I ask.”

The waitress returns with your coffee and pastries, breaking the tension with the clink of cups and the sweet scent of buttery croissants.

After a moment, Matt takes a sip from his own cup and raises an eyebrow. “You know, I heard that drinking coffee in a café like this can increase your charm significantly. I think it’s working, do you?”

You play along, pretending to consider this. “Hmm, I don’t think you need help in that department. But… I’ll still be careful. Just in case you charm me into agreeing to a second date.”

Matt leans closer with a grin. “Second date? Love, if I’m being honest, I’m already planning our third date.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics - your favourite places in the city, funny stories from the set, and his many revealing anecdotes about Fabien. Like the one where he got properly sloshed after a night out at the pub, so much so that he stuck some croissants in his washing machine thinking it was the oven.

“To his defense,” Matt exclaims as you giggle uncontrollably, “the two appliances are similarly shaped!”

As the date progresses, you feel undeniably warm and comfortable in Matt’s presence, but you also can’t ignore the lingering thoughts of Ewan. Your phone had buzzed at some point, and when you snuck a glance at the screen, it lit up to reveal three missed calls from Ewan One-Eye. He knows you’re on a date, so he must be interrupting on purpose. Thankfully, Matt’s enthusiastic regaling keeps you from lingering on Ewan - from worrying about him, missing him… from wishing that he could freely allow himself to take you on a date just like this.

As you and Matt stroll back to your apartment, the city lights cast a warm glow on the pavement, creating a magical backdrop for the end of your evening. His arm around your shoulders brings you a sense of ease, and you no longer feel that nervous flush as earlier.

He walks with you inside your building, and when you reach the door to your apartment, Matt pauses by the entrance, turning to face you with a gentle smile. “Well, this has been quite the evening,” he says. “I’m really glad we got to do this.”

You return his smile. “Me too. It’s been a lovely night.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a shared look that speaks volumes without words.

“Well, I - ” you swallow, your nerves returning, “I better head inside.”

As you reach for your keys, Matt’s hand gently wraps around yours, causing a jolt of electricity to travel up your arm. “Before you do,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

You look up at him. Screw your newfound sense of ease. Your heartbeat now pounds in your ears like an erratic drum. “Oh? And what’s that?” But something tells you that you know just what he means.

Without breaking eye contact, Matt leans in slowly, his face drifting closer.

“This,” he mumbles the word as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then his lips touch yours.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

This poll caused quite the stir amongst yous, I see. Consider me amused. Since part 9 isn't out yet, and my mind isn't set either - if you've got something to let off your chest, some supporting arguments, you've got one more chance to let me know below (or let each other know) 😉 I always read all your opinions, and they are properly taken into account. What did you think of Matty after this?

When Ewan called her at the end of part eight, do you think she had company? Anyway, something sweet is coming in part nine with Ewan and his darling!

To those who are seriously worried about the outcome, note that is and always has been a Ewan x reader fic. I am a Ewan girl just like yous. Hold fast and have fun on the wild ride, darlings 💙

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #matt smith #matt smith x reader #daemon targaryen

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nonasuch · 2 years

Text

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody.

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and falls silent herself.

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else.

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway.

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens.

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

#i have no idea what happens after that but it's definitely not the plot of star wars: a new hope #star wars #not fic

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

Text

You are not a Queen. You are The Queen. My Queen.

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Alysanne Targaryen (Daughter of Rhaenyra, wife of Aegon) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2437

The carriage bumped and bustled through the king's landing streets, the crack of the whip of the horses echoing in the mad rush.

Alicent sat across the carriage in her impressive green dress, with golden chains and symbols of the faith of the seven. The crown she has always worn as queen nettled in her brown hair with her veil trailing down her back. She sighs and hardens herself for what must be done.

Aegon sits dressed in his finery even if he shivered and he slightly cried trying to think of any way he could escape this fate. "Do you love me?" He asked his mother his voice plaid it like a joke but she didn't know the strength it took for him to utter those four words, and the deep tethers within him that those words and her answer would hold.

"You imbecile," she shook her head,

Her answer was enough of an answer for him to understand, but he felt compelled to speak once more, "Where is Alysanne?"

For a moment there was silence, and it spoke more than her words ever could, but after a time she speaks, "I send word for her but she could not be fetched. We couldn't wait."

He chuckled, "She is my wife." He glared, "We couldn't wait five minutes for her?"

"every moment we wait risks the wrath of dragon stone."

"Yet you had time to change your dress?" he glared,

"She would remain where she is safe, with the children."

"So if Rhynera comes to burn the red keep we will all be in the dragon pit, except my wife who is in the red keep."

"That is not what I intended-"

"Maybe not but its a helpful circumstance,"

"We should not speak of this,"

Aegon tried to protest but they arrived at the dragon pit, before anyone had much time to think Aegon was forced from the carriage and taken inside no matter his arguments.

The High Septom prepared the oils as the smallfolk were forced through the streets and ushered into the dragon pit until it was full, A small stage was set up with Alicent, Otto, Cristen, Helena and Aemond all waiting, preparing for this moment.

Otto steps out to address the crowd, "King's Landing! Today is the saddest of days! Our beloved king, Viserys the peaceful... is dead!"

Muttering of shock comes from the crowd,

"But it is also the most joyous of days!" he continues, "For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish that his firstborn son Aegon should succeed him"

more muttering but soon applause echos through the dragon pit,

Members of the city watch rush the dragon pit pushing smallfolk as they do, they make a path to the stage half to keep smallfolk out, and half to keep aegon in. Horns ring out in royal tones as the armoured men raise their swords.

Aegon does not wish to do this but he is forced out, so he takes slow and gradual steps a tear slipping from his eye as he begins the walk, the swords dropping behind him one by one, Each step makes him want to run, makes him want to fight his way out but with each one he is cementing his fate.

His family's fate.

His people's fate.

His city's fate.

His realm's fate.

He glances back and sees the swords are preventing his way, he really has no way back now.

He holds

"It is your good, great fortune to be here, to witness this. A new day for our city. A new day for our realm. a new king to lead us."

He looks up and meets eyes with his mother a rage boiled inside him, that all this was her doing.

When he climbed the steps she came and held his cheeks kissing his forehead, leading him by the hand to the Steptom of the faith of the seven.

He looks to Otto who two gives him no choice he simply nods to him,

So Aegon kneels,

silence rings out,

"May the warrior give him courage, may the smith lend strength to his sword and shield, may the father defend him in his need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin his way to wisdom." the Septom says and with each anoints his head with oil,

The crown is then taken from its pillow. The crown of Aegon the conqueror, sharp spikes of Valyrian steel with gems and jewels of finery.

"The crown of the conqueror, past down through generations." Sir Criston takes the crown and places it on Aegons head even if the crown doesn't fit him right, "Let the seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the iron throne."

For the first time in what feels like hours, Aegon lets out a breath, feeling the weight of the crown on his head, he gets to his feet and looks to everyone in attendance seeing how each bows to him,

"All hail his grace! Aegon second of his name, king of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm!"

The bells toll out as cheers erupt for him,

Aegon looks out to see the faces of all those who cheer, all those who look at him with joy, none of them know the death and destruction he brings. But even so, he can't help but feel a pride, and a swell of his ego as he takes Blackfyre from his belt and thrusts it into the air. For a moment he is swept up in his own family's pageantry and feels a joy to be king.

But it doesn't last, as a rumble comes from below and suddenly dust and stone erupt up from the floor of the pit, people scream and try to run but there is no way to get away as the floor crumbles under their feet the red queen comes though the floor the dragon crushing smallfolk and killing hundreds in her wake otto tries to demand the doors to be opened but people are already dying, as Rhaenys sits on top of her dragon as the dust clears.

Alicent jumps in front of Aegon putting herself between the dragon and him,

The Red Queen screeched at everyone before turning and flying out and away into the sky.

Aegon remains in the dragon pit, the pageantry of the moment long faded, the true death toll of his day hitting him, the weight of the sword in his hand and the crown on his head causing him to ache. He had such conflict in his heart, as he truly thought it all though.

He never wanted this... and yet it was done.

He never thought he was the heir... yet now the crown rests on his head.

His coronation... left hundreds dead.

This moment... had surely begun a war that would tear apart his family, his realm, his house and all that he held dear.

And in all of it, he stands alone, or so he thinks.

Alysanne walks the up the stairs he walked up, her eyes looking only at him. Her gown is a body of green velvet, with silver threat lacing the bodice, black leather sleeves tight to her skin all the way to her wrists, a large skirt of green velvet with black flames embodied on the bottom, a long cape from her shoulders of a sheer black fabric cut like dragon wings. Her hands behind her back as she reaches the stage, she bows to him dipping her knees and lowering her head before her eyes meet his once more.

His wife, in this moment, she is the light in this darkness. but there is so much sadness in him as he looks at her starlight eyes.

"I am sorry Alysanne," He told her,

"I hardly believed it to be true," she began, "Once word reached me."

He felt unable to speak,

"Oh Aegon..." she said, "what have you let your mother do to you?"

Aegon looks at her with a mixture of guilt and shame, his throat tightens with emotion as he takes in her words. "I didn't have a choice,"

"I know." she nodded, "You are the king," She said almost not believing her own words,

He looks away, his mind filled with sorrow and anger, he is king, but he isn't happy. "This... already ways heavily on me... I cannot carry it alone."

"If you are a king... I suppose that makes me a queen,"

He feels the weight lift a little, to know that she is beside him in this, "I am not a King. I am the king. You are not a queen. You are The queen. My Queen." he gives her an affectionate smile,

"so it would seem," A smile escapes her, but soon fails, "what- What is to happen to our children?" Her voice was full of fear,

Aegon's heart sinks as she asks, he knows his children are in danger, he feels already like he has failed them and his wife, he knows no matter what he can't protect them from this. "I do not know..."

"Forgive me, I should not sour your victory with my concerns."

"You should, concerns are now my most important matters." He told her, "I am sorry Alysanne, truly, I wanted to share this moment with you more than anyone. I am so sorry you were left behind,"

"... well, it's over now. it doesn't matter."

"It does. you are my queen and the fact you where not beside me for this moment... it breaks my heart."

"I admit... I am upset. that your mother had called this, not just for the politics and the show of the realm but... she wore her finest dress, her gold and her jewels, brought your family here, coronated you in front of thousands, gave you a crown, a sword, and the title of king... and I. Was left at the red keep with our children. Like a nursemaid." she explained, "I wish I could have been here is all..."

He felt his blood boil that she felt this way, he took her hand and squeezed it, "I wish you could have been here, I wanted this to be for us. I wanted to take the crown with you by my side to take your own. I wanted our children to be here to witness the crown that may one day be theirs. and my mother robbed us of that... I am sorry, truly sorry. and I know I can never repay the injustice done to you." he explained, "You are my queen... and... you do not even have a crown."

"I do." she said, as she revealed her other hand, "She gave me this when they arrived back to the red keep." she said and in her hand sat a small tiara of gold and green. No larger than a hair clip, and for a moment he remembers the crown his mother had worn today a large headband of gold and emeralds His own wife. His queen. Was tossed a crown, Without even being given a coronation. "I... I hardly wish to wear it at all... seems... foolish,"

Aegon stares at the tiny tiara and feels an intense surge of anger at the treatment his wife has received. It is a reminder of her insignificance in his mother's eyes, and it hurts him deeply. But he doesn't want her to be sad, he wants her to be proud of her new station. He looks at her, her face filled with a mixture of anger and sadness, and he doesn't want her to feel that way. He wants to make her happy and to make her feel wanted and accepted. "Wear it." He says, firm but gentle. His voice is a command, but also an appeal. He wants her to wear this crown, to let the world know that she is his wife and his Queen and that he is proud of her. He wants everyone to know that she is the Queen, no matter what his mother says or does.

"There's no point..."

"Here," He takes her by the hand and tugs her with him to stand in front of the banners, he takes the small tiara from her and smiles, he gives it a clean on his shirt to make sure no fingerprints are on it before he does is most epic and dramatic voice for her, "May the warrior give her courage, may the smith lend strength to her sword and shield, may the father defend her in her need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin her way to wisdom. May the mother be an ever-sweet light in her life, may the maiden keep her safe, and may the stranger's visits be few," He explained, "The crown of ... uhh... the most beautiful of queens," he makes up as this crown had no name,

she chuckles at him and he gently but sweetly presses the tiara into her hair, crowning her as his queen, his hands run down her hair and he kisses her lips softly,

"Let the seven bear witness, Alysanne Targaryen queen of the seven kingdoms." he proclaimed, "All hail her grace! Alysanne Targaryen, queen of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. lady of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm, beloved bride and mother. My queen. My sweet queen," he cooed,

"Thank you Aegon," she smiled,

"You're welcome, and I promise you. You shall have a crown more worthy of your beauty and title." He smiled,

"I think we have more pressing matters than a crown Aegon," she said,

"True," He nodded as his heart sank, "... you said once, not long after our children were born, that perhaps it would be best to cut or losses, to fly to Dragonstone with the children to meet with your mother, to cleave to your mother and beg for her mercy."

she shook her head, "... it's too late for that Aegon, no matter what side we are on. Blood will be spilt, and the only way to keep our children alive is to be on a side of our own."

He nodded and briefly smiled, "You took to talking queen fast," He chuckled,

She smiled, "Aegon darling, I have been talking and acting like a queen for as long as I can remember. Our family ensured that. Come. The children wish to see their new king, and we have much to do." she explained taking his arm, he nodded and squeezed her hand happily walking with her even if the two were beyond scared of what now was to be done.

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yanderestarangel · 1 year

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄?"

TW: dark themes, toxic relationship, physical aggression, afab anatomy, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, yandere themes, smut, nsfw.

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ SHANG TSUNG : You two met when he went to collect a debt from one of your neighbors in the small village where you lived with your family, he would ask if your neighbor was there, since he didn't answer the door, you would talk distractedly taking care of some flowers that I didn't know for sure, oh my, the wizard was already madly in love with you, he would ask for some water and then ask your name and then kiss the back of your hand leaving with some men. From then on, his life would be a real hell. He would research everything about you and your family, he would be the type who would first try to win you over like a normal person, but soon he would see that you didn't seem very interested in her, soon leading him to a plan B. - He would start threatening the owner of renting your house immediately increasing the monthly payment, leaving you and your family in complete despair, however, he appeared as a "great savior" giving the house to your family again, with one caveat, you would have to go out to dinner with he. Shang Tsung was very seductive, he would pick you up at home, dressed in beautiful gold and red royal attire, loose hair and extremely expensive perfume, he would know how to convince you to stay with him, telling you how lucky you were that he had bought your house, in no time you would be in his hands and with sweet words and some wine, he would be between your legs at the end of the night, fucking you hard and slapping your face.

You two start dating immediately, and it becomes hell in your life, Shang wouldn't let you go home anymore, you would practically live with him in his castle, all his henchmen from exoterra weren't even allowed to breathe near you, much less let you go out without him around. He would be busy with business but he would leave you beautiful and locked up in another shared house between the two of you - don't take him the wrong way, but he wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you in a house full of likely exits to run away and never come back to him again. -

He is well controlled, Shang really knows that you won't leave him, because in addition to having developed emotional dependence on you on purpose, he could kill your beloved family at any moment - perhaps he even did this before, so you could only have him, but just maybe- But every jealous crisis he has you will be fucked by her until you can no longer walk, he will sink into you without any mercy for your poor pussy, talking while he puts his dick in you with all his strength that you are a dirty slut who wants to give that pussy to anyone, and that only he can have your body and heart, whether you want it or not.

You wouldn't, like never, if you even dared to mention that you wanted to end the relationship you would see a family member of yours killed, by your boyfriend while he smiled insanely and asked if he heard what you meant to say correctly. He would also never break up with you, for him you are the only one in his life and will always be and if you try to run away he will find you and make your life hell, first of all you wouldn't even leave the exoterra, he literally has contact with You wouldn't even be able to get a ride to go as far as possible from exo terra and if you did, it would be one of contacts to pick you back up. You would soon realize that it wasn't the right way and you would panic seeing Shang Tsung just ahead waving happily to the driver. You would try to scream and then cry but there was nothing else you could do in that situation, he would take you home and soon he would have him by your side and kissing your neck, of course, with your wrist held by a pair of handcuffs on your wrist. At the head of the bed, he would lay his head on you, hugging you while your tears flowed : "-My love, you will never leave here, you will die here, whether you want it or not."

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ BI HAN : Please never have a relationship with this man, seriously darling, Bi Han is the type of man that you can't even breathe someone else's air and he will have a jealous crisis taking you both home - this man's crises are always happen with the two of you out - he wouldn't be shy and say that you were wearing too short clothes to go out and that's why you were at home - not because he was jealous because you simply smiled at the waiter after he gave you a drink - and After arriving home, the two of you would have extremely violent sex on Bi Han's part, he would record fucking your pussy from behind while pulling your hair - regardless of whether your hair was short or not, he is 6'1 tall, meaning he would reach your head calm down - and right after cumming inside you, his cum warmed your entrance recording the cum dripping from your pussy. He would also be extremely controlling with things related to your work, forget leaving the house after dating him, you only go out with him or if you are accompanied by a man he trusts from the Lin Kuei - Mainly Sektor - if he knows you left alone he would have an outbreak when he got home - let's say maybe, but just, maybe, he put a tracker on you, with the help of Sektor, specifically on your cell phone or maybe on yourself, this man is sick - and this outbreak it would generate an outcry from him, and you would only hear it silently, crying quietly, since the last time you raised your voice to him you left the mark of his hand on your face for 3 days. He's the type to punish you physically, he thinks you'll learn better from pain. Things like hitting you if you dare to raise your voice to him have become normal in his life, he also faithfully believes that hitting you is not wrong and will never apologize for the opposite, he will pretend nothing happened and have breakfast with you like a happy couple. Unlike the others on the list, there is no way not to notice the red flags in the relationship, you went into this knowing how problematic Bi Han was and thought you could change him in some way, you were mortally mistaken. If you tried to escape from your house he would find you in hell, the entire Lin Kuei would come after you, and deaths would happen because your dear boyfriend knows that you couldn't bear to see civilians dying because of you. Soon the grand master would see you come out of a small house in the village that you were hiding with your hands up, there were people looking at you shocked by everything and others dead on the ground as you passed, obviously all the witnesses would be neutralized. Bi Han hugged you tightly, placing kisses on your head as he carried you in his arms. "-I told you my love, you will never run away from me, you are my soulmate, have you forgotten? If you try to do something like that again, I swear I will slowly kill every person you love in this life."

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHNNY CAGE: This man is a Labrador type, he is a cute man but when he wants to he can turn your life into hell. You met Johnny in one of his films, and he soon became very passionate and in a record amount of time you began to have a relationship, in the beginning it was always normal and respectful, but he has already shown some strange signs, like always asking what you smiled so much writing on your cell phone - which was ironic since he was always glued to his cell phone - which would generate a mini fight between the two of you with Johnny saying that he was afraid of losing you, that he couldn't live without you and that he would do anything To have you by his side, he's the type who will apologize for raising his voice in a fight but will try to justify why he did it. The man will go slowly, showing several red flags, such as expelling his friends from the house that was shared, saying that he had had enough of the noise and that he needed to rest from unlike your friends leaving a horrible atmosphere in the room. You looked at your boyfriend in disbelief as he opened the door and each of your friends came out awkwardly smiling in your direction, the argument between you would be heated with him calling you a slut in the process which would make the older man apologize soon after while you If you locked yourself in the bathroom, you would only make up when you left the room and saw Cage silently crying while looking at your photos. He really has problems with trust, he loves you and trusts you, but he can't say the same about his friends and the world in general, even with you being in his life for many years, he doesn't trust himself, you two would end up fucking with Johnny Cage beneath you talking about how he couldn't see his life without you, while you rode him and kissed him, the man's hips went in desperate rhythm as he saw the goddess that was you moaning on his dick, and oh my he could never lose you.

+ BONUS CHARACTER

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ KUAI LIANG : Kuai Liang is literally on the same level as Bi Han, seriously, maybe even worse. This man would lay eyes on you for the first time and soon become obsessed, in this context you would be a support soldier in the mission against Perseus, everything was supposed to be normal but you soon find yourself cornered by Kuai and his sick thoughts. The man wouldn't give you a choice, either you stay with him or you die, simple as that. He would first try to win you over by normal methods, like bringing flowers or inviting you to dinner and if you accepted, you would fall into his web of control. This relationship would be a prison, you couldn't leave this man's side and if you did it without authorization you would be punished, he would love to punish you with humiliation, making you suck his dick under the table while there is a very important meeting with the Lin Kuei or just you depriving you of wearing clothes at home, he would always, literally always, fuck you, the bastard knew how to break your mind, he knew how to have sex that made you cry while you trembled on his thick cock. During sex he would praise you saying how good you are for taking his dick so well in your pussy, you were already not feeling very well with everything that was happening, so a Stockholm syndrome bond was formed with the man, rightfully so. to you crying every time Kuai deprived you of contact. Well, I think that with all this there's no need to say how jealous he is, you're just his, it could have happened that a man who tried to buy you a drink turned up dead in some alley, he's not the type to hit you , but, he will do much worse things. You will never escape, forget that dear, he will put you in a house far away from everything and everyone with the security system high and to avoid the risk of an escape, so you just let the man take control of your life. Kuai Liang would arrive home and see you on the porch, sitting in a beautiful white flowy dress that showed off your cleavage all dressed up, you looked sadly at the forest landscape around you, life had already left your eyes, you were a soulless doll, Kuai's broken doll, he sat next to you, slowly placing you on his lap while running his hand through your soft hair, you were broken, Kuai Liang knew, but there was no going back.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2033

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dipperscavern · 8 days

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dippy I’m sorry I’m a bit stupid I did not read either of the prompt bit 😭 but if possible could I just add a prompt to my previous Cregan bit? If so, ‘voices change around each other’, bc pookie would be all ‘👹👺fuck y’all I am the lord of winterfall RAGGHHH- Oh hi darling 🤗😘’

urs truly, ur very stupid cheeky anon

you’re ALL GOOD!! thank u for your congrats & i hope u enjoy!!

9. voices changing around each other (whether it deepens or their tone in which they speak changes)

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

in cregans defense, he was usually ever level-headed.

being lord of winterfell and warden of the north, you had to be — patience and understanding is cregans middle name. it’s not often he loses his temper, even less often is it unjustified when it happens, and right now, his men had royally fucked up.

winter is approaching, and with it, cregans main task has been securing enough food to last winterfell & its inhabitants for as long as necessary. the maesters can foretell when winter comes and summers ended, but how long winter lasts is never known. strengthening alliances with other houses, expanding food stores, implementing more farms and crop production — cregan had pushed everything else aside to ensure the security of the people.

even if it put pressure on cregans soldiers, his hard work had made it so winterfells’ food stores were filled to the brim — and cregan was looking forward to being able to cease his constant worrying about having enough to eat.

unfortunately for him, the gods see fit to test him once more.

one of his men hadn’t closed a food store properly, and wasn’t aware until cregan himself checked on it a few days later. by then, the food inside of it had rotted.

it wasn’t the guard himselfs fault, as one of cregans council members had failed to instruct the newly appointed guards on how to close the stores properly. in cregans opinion, error truly laid with his council. you cannot expect people to perform properly if not taught or instructed, and this was so simple a lesson, cregan felt frustration at the prospect of having to teach it.

“Am I to understand, that because of your err, we’ve been lessened an entire store?”

the men in front of him glance at one another, attempting to swallow their nerves. the food store was now being emptied in the background, as cregan had not waited to “properly” assemble in the council room. they stood outside, where cregans tone had deepened, the way it does when lord stark is angered (which is, thankfully, not often)

cregan pauses, waiting for a response, and is only offered a- “Yes, I’m afraid so, my lord….”

“Winter is almost upon us, and you intend on crippling me further. How are you meant to advise me if I must coddle you as a babe?” his tone is harsh, unforgiving. he thinks to hear ideas of solution, about what could be done, but cregan notices something else.

instead of looking at him, every man is looking past him instead. ‘have they no respect for their liege lord?’, a part of him whispers; but curiosity takes over. he turns around, and is met with you.

he blinks in surprise. “Wife.” he says, not expecting your presence. his tone is light now, airy — alike to the cregan that usually graces winterfell. the contrast in his voice from a moment ago to now would make some grin if they weren’t afraid of inciting more of their lords anger.

“I missed my lord husband at supper,” you say, as if nothing was even amiss. “You worried me, Cregan.”

cregans tongue darts out to wet his lip, momentarily forgetting about the men behind him. “That was not my intention, I-“ he cuts himself off, turning back for a moment to glance at the food store being emptied. he sighs, choosing his next words carefully.

“I shall join you momentarily.” he says, turning to face you once more.

you hum, reaching to interlock pinkies (you’re close enough to be discreet). you lean to look past cregans shoulders (a hard task), and you’re met with the faces of cregans council. instead of their usual smug-ness, their faces are a mix of awkwardness, discontent, and embarrassment. the sight of it only makes you smirk, and when you return to cregans gaze, you find a hint of bashfulness swimming in his pupils.

“Behave yourself, my love.”

cregan nods, and you shoot him one last knowing smile before you move to return to the castle.

your presence has calmed him, allowing him to think without the cloud of emotions hanging over his head. he turns back around, and shoots a look at his council before focusing all his attention on the nearby food store.

“What can be done?” he says, tone still edgy, but nowhere near what it was before. his council share an equal relief, grateful to their lady stark for her rescue.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

#dippys asks #dippys 1k #cheeky anon #🫣 anon #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #sorry if this isn’t as grumpy/sunshine as you’d like!!!#i could always redo it :3

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 month

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Do you know a fanfic where Stiles is an omega fox and Derek is an alpha wolf and they need to get married to save their kingdoms from the war between them? I read this somewhere but I can't find it.

Hi @titidebengala! @wolfybae found this one.

The Lost Kingdom of Lis by queen_of_OTPs

(1/1 I 10,056 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles was thankful that Lis was a private and isolated kingdom, so no one in the other lands he was sure to travel to would know his face. Not the characteristic set of moles on his jaw, or the bright honey-golden eyes that shone like spun gold in the sun, nor the characteristic babble that the servants in the palace had found endearing. He was allowed to recreate himself, just as a smith was allowed to reforge a blade after a harsh battle.

Stiles was going to take every opportunity thrown his way, and make himself grow.

AND

@render-me-usless and @anowlnamedpig suggested this one!

The Fox & The Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(10/10 I 79,151 I Explicit I Sterek)

The war between the fox and wolf clans has raged for centuries, ignited in a time before anyone can remember. Now both clans—tired of the bloodshed and hate—are searching for a way to end the war.

Crowned prince Stiles Stilinski—heir to the fox clan—has agreed with his father to meet with the Hales, the ruling royal family over the wolf clan. Under the counseling of the Druids, both clans are presented with a solution to the war: unite the Stilinski and Hale clans through marriage. To quell their people's anger, both Stiles and Derek—eldest living Hale Alpha—are urged to accept the other as an equal; as their mate.

For the sake of their people, both houses make the ultimate sacrifice by choosing duty over love. But, out of what was first assumed to be compromised, quickly turns to be a better match than either could have hoped for. But not all is easy for either clan, as some members refuse to believe that the war could end so easily.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fox!stiles #alpha/beta/omega #lost fic

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nebulaafterdark · 2 months

Text

The Succession (Part 3)

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 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.”

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.” Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon imagine #aegon ii

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sugarnspice630 · 1 year

Text

Thighs, Tits, or Ass man? - Ateez Edition

A/N: Is this an original thought???? This is just ✨for fun✨. 3 bullet points per member (+1 for my explicit peeps(strike through). Please let me know what you think. Happy reading!

Hongjoong - Thighs

•would enjoy using them as pillows when producing music

•appreciates the softness and comfort they provide

•constantly leaving his hand gently on top of your thigh when sitting next to each other

•loves gripping harshly on them when you’re fucking and seeing the dents his fingers leave

Seonghwa - Tits

•anytime you wear a revealing shirt/dress, he’d catch himself staring

•would always ask to “carry them for you” since he’s aware that they can be heavy and cause problems and wants to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible(🥺🥺🥺)

•buys you pretty bras he thinks you would look good in

•heavy into nipple play/stimulation

Yunho - Ass

•loves when all you wear around the house is a baggy t-shirt and underwear cause it gives him a chance to glance at your incredible butt as much as possible

•likes coming up behind you and placing his hands on your lower sides and pressing his frame into you

•purposefully throws your things (in a teasing way) on the floor so when you bend over to pick it up, your ass is towards him and he gets a nice view

•wants you to ride him backwards so he can see how your ass jiggles

Yeosang - Tits

•likes holding onto them and saying how soft they are, giving them gentle squeezes

•purposefully lays on your chest to use your breasts as pillows, but uses the excuse that he likes listening to your heartbeat

•prefers you to not wear a bra so he can take in the natural beauty of them at all times

•his favorite spot to mark up and leave massive hickeys on

San - ASSSSSS (have you seen the way this man treats the air?!?!)

•wants to buy you cheeky underwear because he thinks you look amazing in them

•would like when you wear revealing shorts/skirts where they show just the bottom of your cheeks - it would drive him crazy

•he would wrap his arm behind your back to side hug you, but trail it down slowly to your butt and leave his hand there

•loves smacking the ever living shit out of your cheeks and seeing how red he can make them

Mingi - Fucking all of the above

•he is a man full of love and cherishes every body part

•would be certain to pay attention to every area, not favoring one or the other

•always makes sure to compliment you on how amazing you look when you go out together

•you can expect to get the full royal treatment when in bed with him: thigh kisses, ass spanks, nipple playing, anything and everything to pleasure you, he’ll do it

Wooyoung - Thighs

•talking specifically more about hip dips - he would love pulling you in to embrace/kiss you by grabbing your love handles

•drives him absolutely insane when you wear thigh high socks and there’s the little bulge at the top(😍)

•obsessed with the ripped fishnets and skirt/pants combination

•loves to see your thighs jiggle when you’re riding him as he grips onto your love handles aggressively

Jongho - Ass

•when you kiss, his hands would always be caressing your cheeks carefully with all the love in the world

•definitely would give ass taps anytime he walks by and sees you

•loves when you wear leggings that accentuate your booty

•definitely the type to prefer doggy style so he can see your ass jiggle with the force of his thrusts

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liveontelevision · 5 months

Note

If I don't get more to that babysitter story soon I might just go into full withdrawals.

Well shit here you go bbg

Exams are mostly over which means I can suffer more! :)

This is definitely gonna be a multi-part series at this point, and I am working on part 3 already so - ya

Disclaimer: This is my personal interpretation of the characters from Hazbin Hotel. I respect the canon storyline and characters, but this fic will stray from it a decent amount.

Enjoy this very angsty mildly smutty

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Suffer Pt. 2 | Lucifer x Reader

Things didn't exactly get easier for you after your stupid dalliance with Lucifer. Obviously, you lost your job. But you were a nanny, you lived in the manor. And now you have to find new housing somewhere else in Hell. You haven't been out on the streets in years, and protection was essentially guaranteed as a royal staff member, so it was definitely.. a change of pace. Getting some tips from your previous coworkers who lived outside the manor, you did your best to weave through the murderous streets to find some sort of safety.

“Hello? Anyone home?” The apartment you entered was located in a ratty-looking motel that sat in the middle of a more secluded area in Pentagram City. No matter how dirty, it did seem a little safer considering the distance between other sinners. Scanning the apartment, considering no one answered to your previous call, you hesitantly stepped through the door. An imp you used to work with at the hotel advised you to take some sort of protection out there. He handed you an incredibly sleek pistol. It was tiny, even compared to the size of your smaller hands. It was easy to slip in and out of the little holster on your outer thigh. Scoffing at the idea of needing to shoot anyone, you accepted it humbly. Just to be safe.

Looking out a busted window, surrounded by broken glass, you saw the demon who must've lived here. A twisted corpse, covered in splatters of blood and dirt. A long angelic spear, still standing, sits firmly in the center of their chest, a collection of other stab wounds littered across the rest of the body. Fuck. You knew about exterminations, everyone did. It was always a solemn day back at the manor, but you’ve never witnessed its actual afflictions. You stumbled backward, tripping over some random debris and falling to the floor, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. The fear you felt, the sharp pain in your palms where the glass shards had pierced you, it was all too much. Struggling to your knees, you crawl to the wall, leaning back against it with a thud. A sudden paranoia that someone may hear any noise you made, kept your breathing shallow. You pulled your knees to your chest, sitting in the dark room entirely alone. You wished you weren't alone. You wished he was here.

The last extermination day was about three months ago, so you knew the place hadn't been touched in at least that long. And as gruesome as it may sound, you now had a place to stay in the meantime. But, what are you supposed to do now? You were sure there weren't any families in Hell looking for a babysitter.. You could do little things, like mending clothes, cooking, and cleaning, but.. None of those skills were strong enough to get you into anything remotely as comfortable as being a royal nanny. Cell Phones were a thing at this time, but you never had a reason to have one before, so that’d be something you have to work for. You were essentially starting from scratch, as if you had just arrived in Hell.

You had to take to the streets. Walking nervously, with one hand on your little emergency weapon, you peeked into stores to see who might be hiring. Surprisingly, a quaint little bakery was just around the corner. Stepping inside, the little bell notifies the black-eyed woman standing at the counter. After a quick conversation, and browsing some of the baked goods, it finally clicked that you had walked straight into cannibal town without realizing. But.. It was surprisingly nice. The woman said she did need help in the kitchen, and while the image of cleaning blood and bones off baking pans made you shiver, it could've been worse.

With some hard work and absolute dumb luck, you managed to become a customer favorite. There were some close calls, gentlemen would always get a whiff of your scent before kissing your hand as a greeting, and sometimes you would even feel their teeth graze across your knuckles. The owner was such a lovely woman, despite also being a cannibal, she would swat at any unwanted advances and scold anyone who dared to taste her “best worker”. After a couple months, you were able to pretty up your inherited apartment, and it finally felt like somewhere you could call home.

And a few months after that, you would actually consider yourself in a good place. Bringing some homey decor into your new place, you had the urge to bring a few friends by. The only issue was, you didn't have friends. You were close to the owner, but she was.. Old fashioned. And customers were just that; customers. You were getting antsy though. You rummaged through the small duffle you took with you from the Morningstar residence and found a mildly appealing outfit. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you let out a dissatisfied hum. With one fell swoop, you took the bottom of your skirt and tore it fully around your legs. The dress that normally flowed sweetly to your calves, now flounced to your thighs. With one more spin, where you saw a little too much under your skirt, you decided that this would definitely get you some friends.

Oh, and how right you were. You made many “friends”. You played every card in the book, using dozens of excuses to bring home any demon who showed interest. You were careful about it, you could handle yourself, after all. You were finally getting the attention you deserved. But.. it wasn't from him. Each time you’d walk to work you’d see a flier or a billboard with the king of Hell’s grinning face on it. It churned your stomach each time.

At this point, after some soul-searching, you decided on one thing. This was all Lucifer’s fault. How dare he smile at you the way he did. How could he constantly keep you company, making you wonder why you were even hired as a nanny? How could he so easily touch you without getting as nervous as you did? How could he kiss you the way he did, then call it a mistake? He did nothing to defend you. But these demons in your bed each night? They would do anything for just a taste of you and had no problem admitting that.

After finally appeasing your physical needs, you stopped pursuing demons. It’s been a few years since you've settled in, and now you look back at some of your hookups with a cringe. That was progress, right? Admitting it was just a phase?

Your traveling hands told you otherwise. At night, especially after a long shift where your mind was too tired to think straight, your hands would trail down the center of your stomach. You could never explain what got you in this state, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you had to know. Taking no time, with your exhaustion quick to take over, you rubbed small circles across your still-clothed cunt. You held your blanket to your mouth to muffle any noises. You picked up the speed.

“Nng.. L-Lucifer..” You moaned out softly, your blanket slipping out of your clenched fist. A swell of pleasure caused you to arch your back into your hand, still playing with your overstimulated cunt. After letting yourself calm down, you simply sit with tired eyes, looking at the ceiling with a visible glare. Well, shit.

—

“U-Uh.. Lillith, my love, don’t you think we should -” A quick glare back at the nervous king caused him to shut his mouth.

“Get yourself cleaned up, darling. Then, we’ll figure everything out.” She sounded far too calm for his liking, but once he turned to a mirror in a nearby vanity, he choked on any response he might have. He was covered in your lipstick. Fuck, he loved being covered in your lipstick. Quickly shaking the thought out of his head, he went off to clean up his face. Splashing water onto his face and neck, he let out a heavy sigh, refusing to look into his reflection. Even he’s ashamed to look into his eyes after what he’s done.

After folding his coat and draping it over a nearby chair, he carefully approached Lillith, who had sat down gracefully at the edge of their shared bed. She was holding up some papers with a purple haze, and with a flick of her wrist, she dropped certain ones into a nearby portal. Lucifer gathered the courage to sit next to his wife. He still kept a good distance, twisting his ring around his finger as a nervous fidget.

“What do you think of this one, dear?” Leaning in close to him, Lillith presents a piece of paper that she had just been looking at. A sudden chill ran down his spine, scanning the sheet. A picture of a homely demon, looking absolutely ancient, was clipped to piles of papers with references, experiences, and skills. Overall, if this were a normal situation, she would be a perfect fit to take care of Charlie. But so soon? He didn't want to bring that up. Hey! Can’t you keep the demon, who you just caught me sucking on, for a little while longer? That’s ridiculous.

“W-Well, sure, I’m sure Charlie would love her.. Great choice.. Love.” He was always quick to tell her or give her whatever would make her happy. He owed her that after all. After dragging her to the pits of Hell that he created.

“Hm! Well, that’s settled. I suggest you head to the other room for the night, you must understand how I’m feeling after what I saw.” She sounds absolutely heartless. Not in a way that comes off as cruel, just in the way she barely seems affected by something that weighs on his mind so heavily. Either way, he nodded and left their bedroom.

No servants came to help him get ready for bed, as they usually do. Which isn't an issue, he wasn't completely incompetent. But it did leave him alone for the first time in centuries. Really, when was the last time he had been alone in a room for longer than a few minutes? He tried to not get caught up in the thought, shifting under the covers of the bed. It felt new. It felt unused.

Maybe it was the discomfort of sleeping in a bed that hadn't been touched for who knows how long, but Lucifer spent most of the night tossing and turning. How could he sleep with his mind so full of regret? But then, what was he regretting exactly? Was it the cheating on the one woman who's been by him through everything? Or was he regretting not saying something to you sooner? Not shutting the door when he had the chance? Regretting letting you go without a fight?

At some point in the night, he shot up, a sweating mess. He was still exhausted, even with the notion that he had just woken up from some night terror. Finally catching his breath, he slumps back down, shifting into some other sleeping position. With that one motion, he felt the stiffening problem in his shorts. Fuck. It wasn't there the whole night, but he knew exactly why it was here now. He laid on his back, spreading his knees a bit to gain better access to his aching groin. With the same goal of getting it over with, so he could go back to sleep, he palmed at his shorts before releasing his throbbing cock. Even if he convinced himself that this was just to help him get back to sleep, he couldn't prevent picturing you as he started to toy with himself

If you could see him in this state, you'd go mad. The image of him letting out soft whimpers to no one and pumping his own shaft, wishing his hand was your own.

With a speedy resolve, Lucifer pulls away his hand. Already disgusted with himself for essentially sending you to the streets to fend for yourself, he cleaned himself up before continuing to lay in the unfamiliar bed. The rest of the night was spent staring at the ceiling. It was all so.. Empty. He was so used to hearing the soft breathing of someone sleeping beside him, the comfort of being able to just turn his head and know he wasn't alone. He didn’t exactly miss the smell, but he could recognize the difference. The fragrance of whatever Lillith would use on her hair or skin, right before she would sleep, was gone. There was still a lingering scent, though. He couldn't quite place his finger on it. A sudden flash of your flushed appearance, ringing with an anticipation he hadn't seen in years, formed in his mind. He could have covered you in love bites and bruises right that instant - Oh. That must be it; He was smelling you. His senses were overwhelmed. By you.

“Sire! Breakfast!” A hasty knock at the bedroom door sent him sitting up quickly. He was still groggy since it didn't feel like he fell asleep at all. A random servant let themselves in, a tray of assorted breakfast pickings sitting heavily in their hands as they glided quickly to place it over his lap. He didn't normally have breakfast in bed. A surprise usually viewed as a treat, felt morbid to him. He usually had breakfast with..

With a heavy sigh, he dismisses the imp and pushes the tray off his lap. Who could have an appetite after everything that went on the night before?

As the days started to pass, Lillith eventually started acting like nothing had changed. Your replacement was quick to start working. Lucifer got along with her fine and Charlie seemed to like her plenty. Could this really be swept under the rug? Was a little kiss not worth a serious discussion after all these years? Apparently so. Neither of the royals brought it up to each other after that. They were actually fighting less than before - that is - Lucifer didn't feel it fair to try and rebuttal any of her arguments. And.. that’s the end of it. Just a fling that occurred on a restless night. Just a sinner making another sinful mistake, and the king of Hell creating more problems. There wasn't any more to it.

—

Extermination Day was fast approaching. This wasn't your first, but it was definitely jarring compared to how you handled it at the Morningstar Manor. You boarded up your windows, tore apart curtains, and generally made your hand-me-down apartment seem abandoned. No point in looking for sinners in an empty building, right? You were surprisingly calm, considering the circumstances, you brought a damned book to read while hiding in the safest area of your home. You didn't think much of it, Not until the screams began.

The battle cries became increasingly louder. The exorcists were quick to get to work, spreading their attacks through the most heavily populated areas first. The shouting and sobbing of other demons suddenly registered in your mind. You're terrified. It's easy for sinners to take their position for granted during their first year. You died on Earth, but here you are in Hell. You die in Hell, you regenerate, so you can continue your eternal punishment. But this extermination? It finally clicked in your mind that this could be it. This could be your end and you have no idea what would happen to you afterwards. Was there anything beyond Hell? Your spiraling thoughts were brought to a halt when some of the expertly nailed boards on your windows went flying across the room. You were safely tucked away in a closet, it wasn't closed, just ajar. You hoped that little detail would keep it clear that no demon would be stupid enough to hide in an open closet. You heard rustling, some things breaking, then breathing. She was so close to the closet, that you could hear her breathing. As she reached for the doorknob and you prepared for the worst, you could hear a command coming from outside. The exorcist left through your window in one fell swoop. You had no idea if that was the end of the extermination or if you had only managed to avoid one angel.

Gripping your knees to your chest, only prolonging your struggling breathing, you hoped for one thing. Your mind went spinning, as it does on occasion; After rough days or when certain guests weren't treating you very well, you would wish for help. In your fantasies, a knight in shining armor would come in, kick down the door, and save the day. He would whisk you off your feet and you'd have your happy ending. But today, extermination day, you wanted nothing more than for Lucifer to hold you. Not to save you, defend you from dangers, or play the hero, but to embrace you. Keep you close to his chest and tell you everything was going to be okay, and that you'll look back on this later and laugh. That you'll always be safe as long as you're with him.

Why did you have to ruin it? Things were so good before. You were safe, technically wealthy, and had a friend. A real friend who would help pick up your work if you ever felt the slightest overwhelmed, someone who would support and praise you, someone who would make you laugh. And you were too horned up to consider you could lose all of it.

A sharp pain running down your back forces you awake. Taking the time to recognize your surroundings, you recall crying yourself to sleep in the cramped safe haven you made for yourself. At least it worked. You're still here. Despite everything, you're still here. Taking your time, you stretched your stiff body and examined the damage to your home. It was in absolute shambles. The sight of the busted window made your blood run cold, just imagining an exorcist exploring your personal space. You took a mental note of everything you still had and carefully sat at the edge of your bed, your sheets littered with shards of window glass. This has to stop. You need some kind of respite again, you can't survive like this anymore.

—

You were embarrassed. It felt so strange going somewhere and admitting you need help, that was always a struggle for you. But to crawl to the establishment ran by Charlie? The toddler you raised? It would be near impossible to admit defeat to her. But you were shunned by the rest of the royal family, and quickly discovered you can't make it just living alone as a demon. There's only one other option. Heaven. You supposed it was time to give Redemption a shot. What else do you have to lose?

You hesitate to knock on the door once you're greeted with the signs hanging all over the front of the building. Homemade flyers and banners decorate the walls, saying things like Sinners Welcome!, Escape Redemption!, Ascend to the Heavens!, but the most important one was Free Housing! You knock so lightly on the door, that you have to do it again. It swung open -

You aren't exactly shocked by her appearance, she's been displayed on the news and you've seen her commercials a few times, but you still felt a stabbing pain in your chest. It was from a combination of nerves and.. was that pride? To see this little girl, you helped raise for a moment, as a grown woman who was pursuing her dreams?

She immediately bombarded you with questions and greetings. She still had that energy, didn't she?

"This is the lobby! And over here is the bar, if you drink, and here is -” You started to tune out her voice, still smiling and nodding when she looked at you. Taking in your surroundings, you would at least smile at the other demons you'd make eye contact with. You recognized Angel Dust, obviously a celebrity in Hell, but the rest were strangers to you. Emphasis on strange.

Finally appearing from the shadows, you did actually recognize the so-called radio demon. He would frequently come into your bakery with the overlord of Cannibal Town, Rosie. You'd serve them, which was not normally a service you'd provide, but your boss insisted. He seemed nice enough from those interactions, you saw no reason to fear him. Yet. He was kind enough to stop you and Charlie to chat.

"Ah, a familiar face!" He greeted you by taking up your hand and placing a light kiss on your knuckles, immediately sending shivers down your spine. "Pleasure to see you, again, dear." He spoke into your hand. "Quit the pleasure~" Your hand still held to his lips, he looked up to meet your eyes. With a nervous chuckle and a nod, you pull your hand away, almost pushing Charlie to move on. You didn't want him to see your flustered face.

"So.. How's your dad been?" You idiot. Why would you ask that? You didn't want to know the answer.

"Oh! Um.. That's a weird question - We don't talk much, he's doing important things you know, considering he's the king and all, but uh..good! Pretty sure he's.. good..." Her nervous reactions were just like her father's, but you didn't have time to dwell on that. You knew Lillith had disappeared, everyone did. You wondered what happened. You wondered what it would be like if you were still in the manor with them. If Lucifer would treat you differently with Lillith gone.. Stop.

“Well, I used to work at the manor, actually.. erm.. Do you recognize me..? By any chance?" Charlie's face gleamed with excitement as she took your hands into hers. You were hopeful for a second.

"That is so cool! I haven't been home in ages.. so I'm not sure I remember you but - wow, we have so much to talk about!" She let out an excited squeal that left you smiling nervously. She didn't recognize you. That was fair, you only knew her when she was young, but you thought.. maybe...

Aging in Hell worked differently. While Charlie had truly grown, you've looked the same for multiple decades. You almost hoped that would trigger something in her mind.. thinking about it, you'd love to reconnect with her. But you can't. You can't look at her without seeing him. Maybe her not recognizing you is the best for now.

You settled into the hotel pretty quickly, and considering your housekeeping skills, the rest of the staff and residents seemed to warm up to you, asking for help with little things like mending or baking. You also helped Charlie with anything you could. She had a lot of questions about what her childhood home was like before she came along, and you had to do your best to dance around the important details.

As you were fixing up a skirt for Angel, one that was torn straight in half, your head was suddenly with radio static. A shadowy figure appeared in front of you. With Alastor looking down at you, he was much more intimidating. Doesn't stop the fact that he made you blush like crazy.

"Alastor. What's up?" You turned your head back down to continue your sewing, trying to keep a cool facade, then felt the seat next to you dip slightly.

"A little birdy told me you have an.. interesting past. Sounds like you have quite the history with the royal family, correct?" You hesitantly nod.

"I'd love to hear some stories if you have anything.. juicy." He definitely learned that word from Rosie. You chuckled at the sound of such a modern word warped with static. You gave him the same details you would tell Charlie, vague and definitely not juicy.

As you spoke and sewed at the same time, you ended up jabbing your finger with the needle. With a disappointed groan, you squeezed your finger, letting the blood drop grow. A quick reaction, Alastor lightly took a grasp of your wrist and brought your finger to his lips. With just a single swipe of his tongue, he wiped the blood clean. You tried your best to act disgusted, he was a cannibal after all, but your face was still heating up.

“O-Ookay.. thank you, I suppose..? Anyway..” You took a moment to shake any inappropriate thoughts from your head before returning to your stories. Alastor simply sat and nodded, occasionally letting out a little chortle at something you tried to joke about. "It was definitely a cushy job, I mean, you get free housing as a nanny, protection, food and - "

"A nanny, hmm?" Fuck. You quickly dropped what you were doing to face him. "Alastor, please don't say anything to Charlie. She doesn't even remember me since I had to leave when she was young, and I.. I want to keep it that way, okay? Keep this between us? Please?" You were begging. You had a great relationship with Charlie right now, there was no point bringing up the past. Or the mistakes you've made. You didn't see his smile grow, but it definitely did.

"Not a problem, my dear! I'm not one to blab.. since you asked so nicely." He looked at his clawed fingers as if they were neatly painted nails. You let out a sigh of relief, shakily reaching for your little sewing project in your lap to proceed where you left off.

"Thanks. I owe you one." You had no idea what you did, but apparently, that was enough for him. Enough to signal a deal. You officially owed Alastor a favor, and you had no idea what that could entail.

—

“Okay, everyone! My dad agreed to come and see what I'm - what we - are doing here! This could really help the hotel, so we are going to pretty it up and make it as welcoming as we can!” Charlie stood on the previously used trust-fall stage as she spoke.

“We’ve got one hour, people! Let’s get going!” The command from Vaggie, only made you sweat more. You stood in the small crowd of recently made friends, suddenly shrinking where you stood. You had no idea what Lucifer had been up to these past years. He definitely wasn't making any public appearances and Charlie rarely talked about him, so you just assumed he wasn't interested in her little project. It was shocking to you at first, that the gentle father you used to know had barely even spoken to her in almost a decade.

But that's beside the point. He was coming to the hotel. Stepping off the stage as the crowd dispersed, Charlie came directly to you. She held onto both your hands, before shining a giddy smile your way.

“Isn’t it exciting? Maybe he’ll recognize you! It’ll be like a little reunion!” You simply smiled and nodded, before quickly stepping away. Charlie started directing people, nicely, to start cleaning things up and creating banners and other decorations. A familiar static ran through your core as you hit the top of the stairs, ready to hide wherever you could.

You groaned, “Alastor, I just need to get out of here, please don’t bug me right now.” He was quick to block your path, placing a hand on his chest as if he were wounded.

“How cruel of you, I simply want to chat! I’m just wondering how you’re doing, dear.” His voice was sweet, but it still put you on edge. You waved him off and kept walking.

“Don’t give me that shit, I know you don't really care.” You rolled your eyes as he continued to walk with you, occasionally brushing his side against yours with his strides. Alastor was becoming close to you over these past few months, even getting a little touchy at times. You definitely didn't mind it. You considered making some kind of move, but the idea of that failing made you cringe.

“Goodness, how rude you are today! Aren’t you excited to see your old employer? Or.. are you nervous?” He knew what he was doing. You did your best to hide your anxious reaction, but he saw right through it.

“M-Maybe a little nervous. There, are you happy now? I don’t want to see him, I’m not ready - “ You muffled a frustrated groan into your hands, stopping in place

“Not a problem, my dear! Why don’t you stick with me today? I would hate to see you in such a state of despair - ” Liar. “ - just think about it.” You nod your head, but you were pretty sure you wouldn't be leaving your room for the rest of the day.

“Good girl.” With a quick pat on your head and a flicker of the lights, Alastor disappeared from sight. Your whole body shivered as you stepped into your room.

—

You recognized his voice immediately, even from your room. it didn't help that he was practically shouting. You were sitting in your bed, your back against the headboard and your knees pulled tightly to your chest. You would grab a book, or maybe the phone you finally managed to buy, but you didn't. You sat with tears flowing down your cheeks. You weren’t sad, exactly, but your body had no idea how to process your emotions right now.

Luckily, a loud crash snapped you out of your frozen state, forcing you to carefully leave your room. You couldn't hear his voice anymore, just a loud ruckus, people screaming and gunshots. You assumed someone had broken down the wall, again, probably looking for another fight. That probably means he left, right? Taking your time, you carefully peek your head around the stairwell, letting out a shaky sigh of relief.

No sign of Lucifer. Starting to descend the stairs, a giant portal opens mere feet away from you. Charlie and Lucifer return, his gigantic wings fluttering close as they embrace. You only realized the severity of the situation after appreciating his wings that you’ve never really seen this close before. They were beautiful - Focus.

As they discussed finally setting up Charlie’s meeting, she finally caught a glance of you just beginning to climb the stairs.

“Oh, Dad! I almost forgot! There was so much going on, I didn't get to show you our other guest!” She speedily approached you as she spoke, grabbing your hand and pulling you back down the stairs.

“She said she used to work at home! Isn't that cool?” Placing both her hands on your shoulders, you were essentially held captive.

“Oh! OH! Ahh.. hm! That is - That is definitely.. Interesting! Fun little fact there, isn't it?” His laughter became increasingly nervous and his cheeks became redder, as he tugged at the collar of his shirt to let the cool air of the room hit his suddenly heated skin.

“B-Been awhile, huh?? Long time no see! What are you up to? Today? These.. days..?” Charlie’s excitement only grew, shaking you a bit by your shoulders.

“You remember each other? That’s awesome! Maybe you two can catch up sometime! Were you close? She talks about how much she loved working there all the time!” Charlie’s words did little to fill the gaps. He had no idea why you were here, what you had told her - his eyes met yours finally, begging for the answer. What did you tell her?

Charlie’s one-sided conversation became a ringing in your ears, as she finally released you. You were only brought back by a hand placed delicately on the small of your back. In the back of your mind, you hoped it was Lucifer’s. That made you wince. Finally looking at its source you met Alastor’s eyes. He did say he would keep you company if you decided to come to the lobby. A sudden question popped into your head. Did Lucifer ever apologize? With Alastor's support, a surge of confidence gave you the strength to respond.

“We weren't that close, Charlie. I mean, we could catch up. If he wants to that is.” You leaned into Alastor's touch as you spoke, another decision you'll question later. In that moment, you wanted to treat him like shit. You wanted him to feel the way you did when you were sent away without a fight.

He seemed to shrink in place, his eye twitching when he let his gaze roam from your body up to Alastor’s, which was connected so sweetly by a gentle hold.

“Yeeaah! MAybe - “ His voice cracked, “ Welp! If you’re here - I know where to find you, I’ll uh.. Keep in touch..?” He did his best to send charlie a nervous smile, who was giving an enthusiastic thumbs up to him from behind you.

“Weren't you just leaving, Your Highness?” Alastor’s voice went crackly as he spoke, his hand snaking completely around your waist. He gave a nervous goodbye, before vanishing in a red smoke. Something strange happened just then. Before he left - he looked scared. But you still felt good doing what you did.

You blinked your eyes as if you had just been broken out of a trance. Looking around the silent room, you met Alastor’s eyes again, before quickly pulling yourself away from his grasp.

“I-I guess you did what you promised.. so.. Thank you?” letting out an awkward chuckle, you made your way back up the stairs. What came over you? Did you really want him to suffer? You had a chance to try and repair things, to ask why he did what he did. There's no way he'd try to reach out now. Right?

—

Hope y'all are liking the direction this is going, i know its getting a lil intense

I'm getting your requests btw! I'm loving the prompts I'm seeing, so I'll work on them as soon as I can! :)

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queers-gambit · 10 months

Text

Not All That Glitters is Gold

prompt: during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: cursing, draaaama, mild angst, AU timeline technically, hurt and comfort (reader don't play those games i guess), relationship angst, half edited.

His cloak was a shimmering beacon of golden glimmer even in the dark of night. It promoted an air of confidence and swagger, something independent from his usual cockiness. No, with that gold cloak, he walked as if the very air you all breathed was produced by him; being silent and domineering in his presence. It had been something you were initially attracted to, his alluring mystery and overwhelming stoic self-awareness.

He moved around the Throne Room like wings were gifted to his feet, carrying him with lithe movements to look as if gliding. All eyes were on him, whether out of admiration, jealousy, confusion, or lust - eyes followed him no matter where he went, no matter what he did, who he interacted with. You lifted the heavy gold goblet to your lips, taking a careful mouthful of wine before setting it down, swallowing, and standing from your seat at the banquet table.

You wanted your lover, so, you got up to satisfy your craving.

You approached him as he spoke to a pair of noblemen, slowing your gait to ease your arrival and not cause a surprise. Your dress was something a little more alluring, more revealing than you'd usually wear, and as you approached the men, the eyes not belonging to your new fiancé nearly bulged from their skulls.

Daemon turned his head and saw you, smirking as his arm opened and he welcomed you into his side. "I was beginning to wonder where you got off to," you told him softly, one arm around his hips as the other planted your hand against his chest. "The Aunties have descended and are becoming insufferable, I fear I needed reprieve."

Daemon grinned, sounding amused, "It was a matter of time before they found you. Stick with us, darling, the Aunties will stay away."

"They're about to serve dinner," you told him, "perhaps we should find our seats?"

He nodded, looking at the men he had been speaking to before you showed up. Daemon bid politely, offering no other explanation besides, "Excuse us, gentlemen."

They bowed out of their Prince's way, letting Daemon lead you toward the head banquet table (again) where his brother, King Viserys, was sitting with other prominent members of court. The night had been pleasant, everyone rejoicing in the upcoming nuptials between you and the Rogue Prince. For years, he'd been something chaotic and shunned; and after the passing of his first wife, Rhea Royce, he was like a kite cut from string. Loose and set adrift. Wild and out-of-reach. And then you came back into Daemon's life after not seeing one another since you were ten-and-six, and all of a sudden, the Rogue Prince was something more domesticated.

It was a refreshing change, albeit totally uncharacteristic for Daemon.

Viserys was the most shocked of them all, constantly praising you for whatever you had done to his brother to reel him into a controllable pace. He thought you and Daemon were perfect for one another, likened you two to fit-together puzzle pieces. The King had been more than happy to host the celebrations, starting with tonight, an engagement party! You had to play part of dutiful fiancé and upstanding citizen since you were to inherit a royal title; being poised and collected at all times with either a calm, passive expression or one of bright entertainment.

"Here, love," Daemon whispered, pulling your chair out for you. He waited until you were sat before taking his own seat, sighing when he glanced around the table only to settle his gaze on you.

"What's wrong, my Dragon?" You asked softly, leaning in to place your hand over his on his lap; pressed into his side despite the wooden chair arms between you.

"Just amusing," he mused, "most of these Lords and Ladies had much to say about my first marriage, and now, they break our bread to celebrate us."

"Cannot be the first time someone's tried to suck up to you," you chuckled, moving your conjoined hands in your lap. "The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," you advised smartly, "they only tolerate the sheep because one day, the dragon will need to feast - hmm?"

Daemon smirked, "When did you become so insightful, darling?"

"I've always been, you're just pussy-whipped now that I make a lot more sense."

He laughed, letting a servant pour your wine. In your ear, he mused, "Jest all you want, but you were meant to be a Targaryen. Once we are wed, I will plant my seed, and bind us together for eternity."

"Our marriage wouldn't doing exactly that already?"

"A child is more tangible - it's a bloodline."

You shrugged as a plate of blood-red lobster was set in front of you. Viserys truly went all out - giving a wide variety of foods to taste. "A marriage is for life, though," you countered.

"So is a child."

"Until they are married off."

Conversation continued, flowing easily between the family members and patrons of court. Viserys looked pleased, enjoying the celebration as his ailment often caused him grave pain and he could not attend events. He hardly had reason to smile, but when he watched you feed a bite to Daemon, he let his lips spread without thought. Queen Alicent clocked the King's expression, glancing at you and Daemon, then smiled fondly before reaching for her husband's hand.

Throughout the dinner, Rhaenyra watched you and Daemon with a bitter glare on her face; jaw locked and lips pursed. You ignored her obvious displeasure in favor of your husband, both too enraptured with one another to ever pay attention to the Princess' distain. When the meal was over, the dancing, mingling, drinking, and musical portion of the evening commenced.

And cake. Cake was to be served.

Daemon's golden cloak swept around guests as you both played dutiful host for your party, and mingled with those who arrived tonight to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. You did your best to keep up with the plethora of Lords and Ladies, like Daemon did so effortlessly, but it was a lot. You still held your own, but by Gods, there was a lot of people in attendance tonight and there was noway you could remember any names.

Thankfully, while Daemon was caught in a conversation with Ser Gerold Royce, you eventually made it to a small group of familiar faces: Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin Strong, his brother, Larys, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her twin, Ser Laenor.

You graciously received the compliments, well-wishes, and joyful greetings of them all, but acutely noted the Princess did not offer even so much as a polite greeting. "This dress was made for you, it's just darling," Laena complimented, petting the bodice. "It must've cost a fortune."

"It was a gift from Daemon," you told her with a soft smile. "And the necklace, too! See?" You showed her, "He had it custom made, it's Valyrian Steel with embedded jewels."

"The perfect combination of your Houses, and a gorgeous piece of art to hang on such a gorgeous neck," she praised, but it was Princess Rhaenyra's scoff of annoyance that peaked your interest.

You thanked Laena Velaryon before eyeing Rhaenyra. "Princess?" You questioned. "If I may ask you something, plainly?"

"By all means."

"Have I... Upset you in anyway?"

"You mean beside my uncle spending the Crown's coin to buy you something exquisitely made; being a fleeting, lady interest of the Princes'? No, no, nothing's wrong," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"What is this distain you hold towards me - towards my relationship with Daemon?" You demanded, the alcohol in your system spurring you on despite knowing the looming consequences of offering a member of the Royal family sharpened words.

"Truly? You wish to know why I do not fawn over you as others?"

"They do not fawn, oh - " You stopped yourself, sighing deeply and correcting yourself, "Of course I wish to know what the issue at hand here is, Princess, I do not wish for ill-will between us. I wish to resolve this."

"In truth, I simply do not understand it, this - this sham of a wedding," she snapped. "Daemon might buy you pretty things, but it's only out of guilt."

"What guilt could he possibly - "

"He finds you overwhelming, overbearing, suffocatingly clingy. So, with his distain, he, too, felt fleeting guilt - being why he showers you with gifts, it's for his own conscious. But if you ask me why I host such distain towards this union, it is because I know my uncle is not happy with your overwhelmingly clingy behavior. He's voiced his displeasure many-a-time. Not just to me, but to the King and Queen, as well."

You felt shell-shocked, acutely aware of the lingering eyes of the audience around you. You worried: how many of them had heard this rumor, how many secretly pitied you? Finding your voice, you managed to squeak out, "I beg your pardon?"

Rhaenyra only shrugged, "You asked, I answered."

"I see," you cleared your throat. "And your answer is that my betrothed has, what, started to slander my name behind my back?"

"Indeed. His chief complaint is how you seem to cling to him more and more, and he doesn't have the heart to push you away more than he already has. You're the one daft enough to not take a hint."

"And where do you get your information from?"

"Daemon, himself."

Your mind raced with all the little things: how Daemon would release your person during public events, avoid physical touch, ignore you sometimes, shut down your woes (call that gaslighting), how he stiffened at times you took his arm, how he seemed to shut down and only offer bored 'mmhms' when you spoke to him about your life. Your heart sank to your feet as you realized there were some truths to Rhaenyra's words.

You nodded slowly as Daemon chose that moment to approach your awkward group. His arm slithered around your waist, but you were silent as the grave and stiff as the corpse in said grave. Your mind raced with the idea that Rhaenyra could just be fucking with you, but the also with the idea that all she said was true.

"I'm going to retire for the evening, I've a headache," you told Daemon, finding an easy way out of his grip, "but you stay, enjoy the celebration. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am just tired."

He agreed and gently kissed you - sure to remain modest but still affectionate. "I'll visit you tonight," he muttered in your ear.

"No, I am truly tired," you told him softly but sternly. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

He hummed, "Then I shall walk you out - "

"No, you're needed here to save face. Go, mingle, play nice," you dismissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You bid whoever you came across a good and safe night; thanking them for their attendance tonight. After thanking the King for hosting the party, you disappeared, taking a few secret passages to avoid the main hustle-and-bustle of the feast. When you arrived in your room, you slammed the door, bolted it, and leaned against it for a good long moment. Your mind was reeling with all kinds of thoughts regarding your intended, his niece, all of it suddenly feeling very overwhelming.

You were exhausted, so, you swiftly stripped, unpinned your hair, refused your maid's help, and soaked in a long, hot bath. After, you settled into bed with a book, and tried not to overwhelm yourself with the anxiety tomorrow would bring.

About an hour later, you heard Daemon knocking at your passage door. You paused, not making a sound, hearing his muffled voice, "Love? My love, are you awake?"

You didn't answer.

"Please, sweet girl, let me in," he begged quietly.

When you wrenched the door open, you seethed, "NO!"

"What - ?"

"I heard plenty tonight from your niece. In your moments of frustration, you know what? Sure, complain about your woes - but to find out you call me clingy when in regard to my affection - that's not something I'm going to be happy hearing, Daemon!"

"I know, but let me explain - "

"What? What will you say? That you just needed someone to talk to? To vent your feelings? I get that - I really do. But you fully offered slander to my name, to our relationship; to who I am as a partner. Your poisoned words of your irritation is soaked into your family, in the courts. And now, I must endure the pity those will offer knowing my husband truly holds distain for me!"

"No, you've got it wrong, I don't - "

"Then why!?" You demanded, voice cracking. "Why say those things? Why not come to me and communicate you're not comfortable with this and that behavior!? I won't know unless you tell me, so, instead of talking your shit to the courts and your family, why not just speak to me!?"

"I should have!" He admitted quickly. "I should have, I know that, and it was my mistake, my love. But I regret it, I regret feeling so, so - I don't know! Sure, let's call it frustrated, irritated, I don't care, I just needed it off my chest!"

"I understand that fully, but being as we're to marry one another, I should be the one listening to you when you need something off your chest. You should talk to me. And if I'm the one you need to speak about, choose more trustworthy confidants that do not need further reason to despise me!"

"What're you...? What? What does that mean?"

"Rhaenyra, Daemon! Your niece, Rhaenyra! Every-fucking-thing you've said to her, she remembers, and holds it against me! You forget, when you speak to family about the woes of your relationship, that's all they remember. You get to make up with me, we get to move on, but because you needed t'vent to them, that's what they can hold against me. Do you even wish to marry me, still!?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then something needs to change," you deadpanned, exhausted by this. "I refuse to be belittled, spat on, and disrespected by your niece any longer."

"I will speak to her."

"Yes, you will! This is far too out of hand! She has weaponized your frustration to drive a wedge between us, and she chose a public event with an audience to lob it all at me!"

"What truly happened with Rhaenyra? What was so bad?"

"Daemon, she called me out for 'being clingy' in front of an audience! At our engagement celebration! Do you know how humiliating that was!? I'm more embarrassed than angry!"

He nodded, "I'll handle this. I swear, my darling, this will be resolved."

"You know what?" You breathed. "Do whatever you please because I've realized something. Not only did Rhaenyra spew our business to others, but you... You said it in the first place. You said those words..."

"Out of anger - "

"But you still spoke them!"

"I was foolish to do so!"

"You are a fool for many reasons, Daemon, but this is one act I am not willing to forgive so blindly. Wear your jester hat all you'd like, but it will take more than pretty words to make this up to me."

"I'll do what it takes to fix this." He tried to step into the room with you, but you held your ground in the doorway. "My love, please, how can I make it up to you if you do not let me in?"

"You must find any other way to do this because there's no chance in any of the Seven Hells that you share my bed again - married or not." You offered him a look of distain, musing, "You know what, I've decided: I simply don't care what you or your family thinks. I am extremely proud of who I am, and there's not a soul alive that can make me feel lesser than. Your words hurt, they cut deeper hearing it from the Princess, but that's simply your opinion," you eased. "I refuse to modify myself, but it's good to know you don't like my affection - I can always reserve it for whoever I choose to warm my bed. What was it you said?" You quipped venomously, "Marriages are political arrangements?"

"Not ours," he snapped.

"Oh? We're so different, are we?" You laughed.

"Of course we are, there's nothing I'd change. Hear me? Nothing," he sounded angry. "I was a fool to speak out of term, but you're right, I should talk to you about it - I am simply unequipped to having a wife I've chosen."

"Oh, spare me - "

"It's true," he insisted, "what woman in my life has loved me as you do? Has encouraged me to be so - so - loving and safe?"

"Apparently, I've been clingy and not as encouraging as I thought."

"I spoke out of turn," he insisted. "You're right - I can't go and take back what I've said. But I will do all I can to ensure I change their opinions on you, to mop up whatever verbal mess I've made."

You laughed without humor.

"And I will set Rhaenyra straight about all of this, I will ensure she knows that there's no room for such tension, jealousy, hatred."

"You swear to clean up all your messes?" You wondered earnestly.

"I swear."

"Good," you mused, "after that, how do you intend on rebuilding my trust?"

Daemon blinked, "You do not trust me anymore?"

"Of course not," you assured, "not since finding out how you speak of me so hatefully without my knowledge. That's where trust comes in, Daemon, but you proved me wrong, and now, that trust is gone."

Daemon looked confused, mouth opening and closing rapidly, shaking his head, "No, no, no, love, don't do this. We're okay, all right? We're fine, things with us - we're fine. We're okay."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Do not tell me," He snapped. "H-Have I lost you?"

"Mhm. Not saying you can't fix things between us, but as of now, there's nothing about you I can trust."

"And if you cannot trust me, can you love me?"

You paused, considering his words. Honestly, his betrayal was something that hurt worse than anything you've endured before. "I'll have to think about that one," you whispered. With a saddened look, you hugged the door, sighing, and bid, "Goodnight, my Prince."

"My sweet - don't shut me out. Don't do this."

"Find a way to make this all up to me," you demanded, "because I'd hate for either of us to eventually resent this marriage, too."

He tried to argue but you shut the door on him forcefully; loudly locking it from the inside to prevent him from following you. You felt yourself brimming with anger, but nothing was like the betrayal coursing through your heart and veins. There was no sleep that night, there was a lot of tears, a lot of pacing, and a lot of grumbling to yourself.

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HOTD masterlist

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the20thangel · 3 months

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The Dragon and The Raven Ch 2

Hello, Lovely people! I plan to expand the timeline for The Dance of the Dragons by adding more. This will provide insight into Benjicot's thoughts from the previous chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Keep up with the story: masterlist

He was gone; Davos, his brave twin, was gone. The stupid Brackens disrespected his brother and their land, and, in turn, his brother and father were lost. Davos was always the more outspoken and confident twin. Benjicot knew people thought he wasn’t fit to be Lord of House Blackwood. He seemed inclined to agree, but not for the reason others believed in. He was more reserved and quiet compared to Davos, the loud one.

Benjicot was meant to be his brother's sworn protector. He thrived being out of the limelight and quietly doing his duty as a soldier willing to die for his brother, which he couldn’t even seem to do correctly. His job was to protect his lord, which he failed. Both his father and brother were dead, and it was all his fault.

“My Lord…” echoed slowly louder and louder until Benjicot broke out of his guilt to his council member.

The weary old council member looked tired from all the stress of the day, “My lord, we have finished moving the bodies to the great hall. We will begin the preparations for burials soon.”

Benjicot nodded while following the older gentleman to the hall and seeing the masses of lost Blackwood members being mourned. In the very front lay both his father and twin. Davos was bloodied but wearing a final smirk on his face, which Benji thought was meant to be. If people needed to see Davos one last time, let it be his famous smirk he wore proudly as heir.

Benji was worn out from the day’s events; he knew if it weren’t for how much he wept earlier in the field, he would still be crying like a babe. He had never wept this much before, not even when their mother passed. It felt like a knife was gouged in his chest, and he knew the reason was that his twin, his other half, was brutally taken from him, leaving him and his aunt to piece their house together. Speaking of his aunt, she also looked tired as she walked towards him with a letter that was brought from a raven. Where the raven came from, he cared not… not when he was too busy mourning and trying but failing to step up as the new lord of Raventree Hall.

“Benji, news of the Battle of Burning Mill reached Dragonstone and Queen Rheanyra…” croaked his aunt, her voice raspy from yelling all day trying to keep the peace.

As she continued, Benji was only half listening, which he knew should feel bad, but he couldn’t seem to care. His guilt was sneaking back onto him, but he was abruptly shaken once he heard his aunt say Princess and Dragon.

“Wait, Dragon? What dragon?” he questioned his aunt and then lowered his gaze once his aunt glared at him for proving that he wasn’t listening to her earlier.

Alysanne knew better than to hold it against her nephew, but dragons were coming, and they needed to do everything they could to best prepare for the Crown Princess's arrival the next day.

“Queen Rhaenyra wants to express her condolences and gratitude by sending food and medical supplies with her daughter Princess Aemma on top of the princess’ dragon Sliverwing. We must ensure our home accommodates a princess and her dragon.” Alysanne, weary, explained to her nephew that she had the same face as him.

The last thing they needed was a Targaryen princess coming and demanding their attention rather than focusing on their dead. Still, they swore to the Black Faction and the royal family, so they must welcome the princess as an honored guest no matter how much they would come to dread it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Benjicot was a nervous wreck; the princess should be arriving soon, and he was trying to ease his mind but taking on task after task, funeral preparations, the princess's guest chambers, a clearing to house a dragon, storage to store all the supplies being brought. All of these seemed to pile on, and he didn’t have enough time to, as he heard a dragon's apparent dragon shrill and wings flap. He would not greet the princess. Instead, his lady aunt would take on the task while he stayed in the great hall, pretending to be busy. Rather than using all his energy to pretend to engage with a princess, he had no clue how to speak to the princess.

Soon, the great hall doors were opened, and walked in a woman who knocked the wind out of his lungs. This woman had pale white curly hair that was pinned up in a simple braid reminiscent of those of the North. Her sunkissed skin glistened under her hair; she wore red and black riding leathers that seemed to have dragon scales on her shoulders, which hugged her body in all the right curves. But what took away his breath was her eyes and how she carried herself in the room. Her beautiful violet eyes held sorrow as she took in the great hall, not pity, but understanding.

Benji studied her as she walked around the hall on her own, whispering condolences to the grieving families before she stopped and stared at one body, his twin Davos’s body. He stiffened before quickly but quietly walked towards her. The princess, he realized, before he paused once he saw her expression. The Princess looked on the verge of weeping while staring at his brother’s face. If he didn’t know any better, it would look like the princess was mourning her lover, but that was impossible as Davos and the princess never had the chance to meet. It confused Benji, but he heard her whisper Luke when it clicked on him. Prince Lucerys was the reason the realm started the war between greens and blacks. His uncle, Prince Aemond, killed Prince Lucerys. Looking upon Davos made the princess remember her sibling lost to a feud between two families. The princess understood him and his grief. At that point, he decided to be brave and let the princess know of his presence.

“ Davos Blackwood, my princess.” Whispered Benji as he watched the princess jump, shaken, and then flush in embarrassment before she set her eyes on him.

He then noticed how she subconsciously flinched when she looked at him, which he understood. He and his twin were identical to each other, so it can seem daunting to see one alive and the other dead.

“That is Davos Blackwood… he... he was my twin brother.” He explained and saw how the princess nodded with understanding, for she, too, had recently lost her brother. Before he could think of another sentence, the princess graced him with a small but dazzling smile as she spoke.

“Lord Benjicot, my mother and I thank you for receiving me into your home, especially in this trying time; I wish to express sorrow for the loss of your father and twin brother.”

Her voice was sweet, like a soft wind chime melodies that could melt even the strongest ice in the north. Benjicot himself returned a shy smile to the princess.

“Thank you, my princess-”

“Aemma.” Stated the princess before continuing, “ You may call me Aemma, but I fear I will grow tired of hearing ‘my princess’ so much.”

Benjicot stared at Princess Aemma for a second before noticing her certain witty charm, which made him feel more confident. He changed his smile to a smirk.

“Very, Aemma. Thank you for your condolences. I ask you to call me Benji or Ben. It seems only fair,” he said, relishing in seeing her break into a bigger smile than before.

There was a soothing pause as Benji, and the princess once again looked at the masses before he decided he needed to remove himself from the hall. Seeing his brother was still too much to bear. So he asked her if she would like to have a tour of the hall and castle grounds. She happily took his arm and wrapped it around as they walked away from prying eyes. Once out of the hall, Benji was greeted with a dragon’s shrill as the She-dragon seemed to glare at the young lord. He gulped as the princess laughed and ran to her dragon.

As much as he knew better than to get close to a dragon, he was like a moth, following the light that Aemma seemed to release as she spoke High Valyrian in her soft-spoken voice to her dragon. She took his breath away for the second time. He had always heard Valyrians were considered higher to men and closer to gods. He never really believed it until now. This warrior goddess welcomed him to her and her dragon, a privilege only a few dared to indulge in. As he continued admiring her, Aemma turned to him, which made him flush, knowing she caught him staring at her.

“Have you ever come into close contact with a dragon before?” quietly asked Aemma.

Benjicot shook his head no, “ Never, my princes- um, Aemma.” He quickly caught himself as Aemma graced him with another laugh. He enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Would you like to? Come meet my Silverwing.” Aemma took hold of his hand and pulled him closer to her until her body flushed to his as she raised their intertwined hands to Sliverwing’s snout.

Benji’s cheeks could only grow more in heat, feeling the princess's body press onto his own. His body started to betray him, and he hoped she wouldn’t notice. Thankfully, the princess was too busy soothing her dragon because of his presence instead of seeing the effect she was having on him.

“Shh, Sliverwing, Lykiri , sweet one, we mustn’t scare away our host.” Whispered the princess as she guided Benjicot’s hand to rub her snout. At the same time, she was using her other hand to soothe the dragon to be calm.

In awe of touching a dragon, Benji asked, “What does that mean… lykiri?

Again, Aemma giggled and turned more to him, their face mere inches away.

“ It means to be calm or calm down. I must say how impressed I am with your bravery in being so close to a dragon, my lord.”

Benjicot, in turn, winked at the princess before teasingly replied, “Only because I have the Realm’s Pearl guiding me, and I thought we agreed to skip our titles, my princess.”

Benji then lowered his gaze to her lips, seemingly inviting. He could lean forward and take a kiss from her if he wanted. Oh, how much his mind told him to go for it. As he was about to indulge in his thoughts, a stern and short cough snapped him out of his thoughts and made him jump away from Princess Aemma and Silverwing. Benjicot could only grow cold; there was Princess Aemma, sworn knight Ser Lorent, glaring at the young lord; Benji felt like a dead man. His saving grace, His Aunt, called to him. This gave him the perfect excuse to leave the princess, promising her to see her later at the feast.

As he walked away towards his aunt, Benji could only internally groan, seeing the smirk his lady aunt was giving him.

“It would seem the Princess is quite fond of you, my nephew,” teased Alysanne, delighting at seeing her nephew blush brighten even more.

Benjicot glared at his aunt as they walked to the feast hall, ensuring everything was set.

“The Princess is just being gracious. Why would she like some lowly lord, not even a lord paramount, when she is a crown princess?” stated Benji, reminding himself that as much as he was falling for her, he had no chance with her.

Alysanne sighed, growing tired of her nephew's self-deprecation. “ A Dragon rider does not bring a random person close to their dragon just to be nice. She likes you, nephew. You should pursue her.”

Benji cruelly laughed, “What do I bring to her in a marriage? Is our house that rich, or high in-”

“Benjicot Blackwood!” angrily exclaimed Alysanne. “Our house is proud and ancient; we have one of the largest armies with great warriors like you that will support her mother in the war between Black and Greens. We are just as good as any Paramount House and better than those of House Hightower and House Bracken. You, my young lord, need to see the value of your position and our house.” explained Alysanne as she angrily walked away from her nephew.

Benji sighed, knowing what his aunt said was true. He just couldn’t fathom how someone as beautiful as Aemma could consider him a potential husband. He decided his aunt was correct. He needed to bring out his confidence, which he could easily show in the training yard; he had to be like Davos so that people would start seeing him as a strong lord of Raventree Hall.

He walked to the chambers the princess was staying in and explained to the knight that he would escort her to the feast. Ser Lorent tried to intimidate the young lord again with a glare, only to receive a smirk that one can only describe as rabid. Chuckling at the new confidence, the Queensguard nodded before walking towards the feast hall, Leaving Benji to knock on the door and patiently wait for the princess to come out.

As Aemma came out of her chamber, leaving Benji again to admire her beauty, switching her previous braid to many intricate braids in the style of Old Valyria dragon riders. He gave her a dazzling smirk that made him know it affected her from her flushed cheeks. As they walked in the hall, Benjicot noticed the stares, especially those from his men, which made an ugly monster of jealousy creep in. Of course, these were his men; he would not hold it against them and try to enjoy the feast, stealing glances at the princess. As he was about to strick a conversation, he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning, he saw his aunt with an annoyed face and a nervous council member asking him to speak with him.

With a sigh, the young lord walked outside and waited for the conversation to start. None spoke for a while, making the Blackwood lord grow tiresome for wasting his time when his aunt said.

“It is your concern, council member, not mine, and I will not be the one to express them to my nephew.”

“What concerns?” asked Benjicot as he stared at the older man.

“My Lord, many of us are concerned about your position as lord of Raventree Hall; many are stating that since you don't have an heir, House Blackwood is vulnerable to enemies.” The elder dropped his gaze to the floor, afraid to make eye contact.

Benji was angrily taken aback. He had just taken his position, and already, his council saw weakness in his lordship.

“I understand my position, but it is hardly weak; I am the lord of House Blackwood, and if need be, my Aunt Alysanne is my heir. I do not need to marry so soon, especially if we are to join the queen to war!” Snared the new lord at the older gentleman.

The older man sighed in annoyance, “ Yes, since we still follow the Old gods, there is nothing wrong with having Alysanne as your heir, but your position is not secured, my lord. Should you and your lady aunt perish, we risk losing our house to those craven Brackens. Being married will ensure your future wife carries your heir to secure the future of our house.”

This only grew Benjicot more agitated, and replied angrily, “ I will not be a bargaining chip just to secure my house’s future, and I will not marry just to have my future wife feel like a broodmare.”

Alysanne sighed, looking at both hotheaded men, and tried to intervene, “You and the princess seem to grow close. Why don’t you discuss with her any potential ladies she may have as her or her mother’s ladies-in-waiting? Therefore, you open up the discussion of marriage without feeling too drastic or rushed. While I remain as your heir?”

Alysanne knew better than to ask her nephew to consider marriage to the princess again; remembering their earlier conversation would only annoy her nephew more. Eventually, both men agreed and decided that the conversation was done as they walked back to the feast room. After cooling down, Benjicot’s attention was returned to the Princess as her guard called for attention.

Princess Aemma stood, holding a paper that Benji could only assume was the Queen’s letter to his people. As she looked around the room, her violet eyes stared and made eye contact with him. Under her composed face, he could see she was nervous, so he gave a slight smirk and a nod of encouragement. Her charm will win over his people just like she did with him.

Exhaling, she opened her mother’s letter and began to read, “My good people of Raventree Hall, I thank you for welcoming my daughter, Crown Princess Aemma, into your home. As my heart grieves for the loss of Burning Mill, I want to express my gratitude for your honor and loyalty to me as your queen. My mind is at ease knowing I have such loyal subjects, and with your help, I know we can take back my birthright from the green false king. To show my gratitude, I have sent my daughter on her dragon to bring supplies and food to help replenish House Blackwood. With her dragon, she will lead and guard the able soldiers to Harrenhall, where Prince Daemon, the Knights of the Vale, and the men of the North will eagerly await you. You all have my utmost respect and gratitude, your Queen, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the realm.”

Once Aemma finished, the entire feast hall stood and applauded the princess, including Benji and his aunt. He felt immensely proud of how regal and compassionate the Queen and princess sounded. After a while, Aemma raised her hand and asked for the hall to quiet down, seeming not to be done addressing them. Intrigued, Benji sat down again to listen closely to what she needed to say.

“I thank those here today for coming out and supporting my queen. My heart is filled with the warm welcome I have received here at Raventree Hall. To know such fierce and loyal people are willing to fight for my mother, your queen, fills my heart with gratitude-”

Someone in the back stood up and cheered, “To Queen Rhaenyra and Her Crown Princess, The Realm’s Pearl Aemma Velayron!”

Benji wanted to laugh; it seemed his people, even after centuries, still had northern tendencies and attitudes that seemed to come out when they held feasts. The Princess patiently let the crowd cheer again before asking for silence and continued.

“I thank you all for your cheers. To show my gratitude for everything, I propose, should your Lord Blackwood accept, my hand for marriage to create a strong and secure alliance between Houses Targaryen, Velaryon, and House Blackwood.”

Everything seemed to freeze, did he- did he hear correctly? Crown Princess Aemma Velayron has asked his hand in marriage… As Benji scanned the room, he saw everyone openly in shock. As he returned his gaze to his princess, he saw her getting nervous, waiting for his reaction. After a beat or two, he finally was able to process that, indeed, he was asked to be married. He decided to grace her with a heartwarming smile as he rose to meet her. Grabbing her hands into his, he stared into her violet eyes. He could get lost in them every day. He leaned down to kiss her hands as he gave her his answer for only her to hear.

“It would be my honor to be your husband, my dear princess,” he whispered, feeling giddy seeing her gracing a smile that he knew was meant for him alone. He promised himself to be the one person to bring that smile out of her in their future marriage.

#davos blackwood #samwell blackwood #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood/oc #Princess Aemma Velayron (OC)#hotd spoilers #hotd season 2 #house blackwood #house targaryen #fanfic #house velaryon #Benjicot Blackwood/reader #a03 fanfic

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ellewritesalright · 2 months

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The Ward

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Masterlist - Part 2

Synopsis: Aemond has a fascination with you, his mother's pious ward from a vassal family of House Hightower, but he has a peculiar way of showing it.

A/N: Hi!! this is set in and around the last few episodes of season 1. Reader is unnamed but comes from a noble house from the reach. I made up a Tyrell lord because I just wanted a name to throw about, but it's not that serious :) I wanna do another part of this, so lmk if you're interested and would like to be tagged

Warnings: mentions of the war, burning, Aemond being a flip-floppy bitch to reader, Aegon being a bit of a creep, and pls lmk if I've missed anything

Word Count: 3900

The halls of the Keep were quiet, despite the impending ruling of Lord of the Tides and the huddles of highborn folk who were visiting for the occasion. You walked through the grand passageways, a shawl over your shoulders for your journey outside the castle walls.

"Where are you off to this afternoon, my lady?" You heard Aemond's smooth voice from an alcove you'd just passed. You took a step back towards the sound as he made himself known, his tall frame coming out into the corridor.

"To the Sept, Prince Aemond. I'm going to pray," you answered.

He gave a slight nod and echoed, "Going to pray."

"Yes."

His eye was so focused on you, so attuned to your face that you felt he was trying to read your mind.

"You're aware that your presence is required at dinner this evening?" He inquired, folding his hands behind his back. “Rhaenyra and her brood will be in attendance.”

"Yes, your highness. I'll be back before the festivities begin," you assured him. "I only wish to say a few prayers on holy ground, several of which will be for the royal family."

Aemond's lips twitched into the smallest smirk. "You would pray for us?"

"Of course," you nodded. "I pray for everyone in this house. I always begin with King Viserys and pray for his health, then I thank the gods for Queen Alicent and her kindness in making me her ward, Ser Otto for his unending wisdom, I pray for Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, and their children that all of them prosper, then I pray for you, my prince."

"And what do you ask for when you pray to the gods for me?" He raised a brow, complete curiosity on his pretty features.

"For the gods to protect you," you answered.

He let out a quiet laugh, one you almost mistook as a scoff. Perhaps it was a scoff.

"You think I need protection, my lady?" He smirked.

"Everyone needs protection."

"But I most of all?" He raised his brow again. "Do you think I'm not strong enough to protect myself?"

"I never said such a thing. I only said that I pray for your protection."

"Hm, well, how considerate of you, my lady," he appraised, a foreign glint in his eye. "Take a guard when you go out."

You nodded softly. "Yes, of course."

He looked at you for a moment longer, then he turned and walked away.

……….

The conversation before dinner was dull, even despite the tension among the family members. No one mentioned lord Vaemond, the dead man in the bowels of the Keep being cared for by the Silent Sisters. Though the lack of mention for his severed head was not the root of the ill mood this evening; you had only known this group to dislike each other.

You didn't fully understand why the family had splintered so, since you became Queen Alicent's ward only after Princess Rhaenyra and her family had moved to Dragonstone. You knew it happened after the funeral of Prince Daemon's second wife and had something to do with Aemond's missing eye, but you had never been given the full story from either side.

The tension in the family was only exacerbated by the king's poor health. King Viserys should have been resting, not hosting his entire family to dinner, but alas, you were all gathered at the table waiting for his guards to carry him in.

Across from you, Prince Aegon was expectedly fidgeting in his chair, prisoner to his boredom and wishing the night would end so he could sneak off and do something depraved. Beside you at the head of the table, Prince Aemond, ever the calm and dutiful brother, sat back in his seat, his lips pursed in that unknowable way he seemed fluent in, especially as he stared down the table at Lucerys.

You made polite conversation with Otto Hightower where he sat to your left. He had always liked you, seeing as he had been the coordinator of your guardianship under Queen Alicent. Ser Otto was even the one to bring you on the carriage journey from the western lands of the Reach to King's Landing when you were just fourteen. You had learned much at court since then, growing to be whispered about as a fine young lady.

"Lord Denton Tyrell sent his regards to you, my dear," Otto turned to you, ignoring the smalltalk between Rhaenyra's group.

Aegon scoffed into his wine across from you.

"Did he?" You smiled kindly, though you were not sure it reached your eyes. Lord Denton was fifteen years your senior, and quite a lumbering fool.

"Mentioned you in a letter I received from Highgarden. Seems you made quite the impression on him at the last hunt."

You reached for your wine. "I barely spoke to him during the hunt, I wasn't aware I made any sort of impression."

You felt a stare on you, and you didn't have to look to your right to know that Prince Aemond was watching you, as he often did. But another prince was watching you too.

“We know what he's interested in, don't we, my lady?” Aegon smirked at you.

“Not another word, grandson.” Otto leveled him with a look across the table.

“Marriage,” Aegon said in an innocent tone, holding his hands up. “He is sure to be interested in a union with our lovely, pious ward. A coupling, if you will.”

Otto gave him another look, and Aegon looked as though he wanted to continue his impish teasing, but just then King Viserys was being carried into the room. Everyone stood beside their chairs as he was brought to the empty spot at the middle of the table.

The family sat back down and dinner proceeded. After a moment of heavy air, King Viserys began to speak to his family, addressing them as equals and not as their king. Rhaenyra spoke, then Alicent, and it seemed any animosity had disappeared from their memories. Dinner progressed further, and you watched Rhaenyra's sons--mostly Jaecaerys–butt up against Aegon and Aemond as the three stood and seemed square for a fight. But then, finally, the three of them sat again, and a temporary peace was made. The musicians returned to playing, and Ser Otto began engaging you in casual conversation again, both of your stares straying to Jacaerys and Helaena as they danced.

You caught Aemond glaring across the long table at Lucerys, and your eyes flicked down to his hand in his lap, how it clenched into a fist. Without thinking, you lowered your hand beneath the table and reached for him. Your fingers settled over his knuckles, and he broke his glaring at Lucerys and instead looked over at you, his eye losing its hard edge. The bones of his knuckles rippled under your hand, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he flattened his fingers then folded them around yours. Aemond gave you a slight nod, then looked over to his sister and nephew dancing, his hand still in yours.

From the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see King Viserys being carried to his room again as dinner trays were being brought in. You let go of Aemond's hand as servants approached your end of the table with a suckling pig. Above the music, you could faintly make out laughter, and you looked all the way down to the other end of the table to see Lucerys smirking at Aemond and the pig.

Before you could take his hand again, before you could so much as look at him again, Aemond had slammed his fist on the table and rose to his feet.

“Final tribute,” he called, eye intent on Lucerys and Jacaerys. “To the health of my nephews Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

You went rigid in your seat as the ensuing tussle broke out. There was nothing civil about how Aemond shoved Jace to the floor as soon as he stepped closer, and how Aegon pinned Luke to the table when he tried to join Jace. Ser Otto rose beside you, and you watched as guards tore the Velaryon boys away from Aemond and Aegon.

Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra seemed to admonish their respective children--though you weren't sure how effective the scoldings were considering the glares their children still sent one another–and then the Velaryons and Daemon's daughters were sent to bed. You watched as Aemond squared his shoulders, then stalked away.

“I shall also take my leave for the evening,” you said to the Hand. “Goodnight, Ser Otto.”

You kept your pace steady as you left the room, but once you were in the hall you were hurrying.

“You shouldn't have done that,” you said as you caught up to Aemond.

He didn't even look over at you. “I was complimenting them, my lady.”

“No one at that table took it for a compliment, your highness.”

“It is remarkable how when you speak, my mother's voice comes out.”

You frowned at him. “You know I'm right, you just won't admit it.”

“I know you believe yourself to be right.” He stopped in front of you, his eye narrowed to a knife's point. “Does your arrogance stretch so far as to think I should heed your wisdom?”

You buckled under his cold eye. “I only meant–”

“You meant to belittle me for my behaviour and tell me I am in the wrong for not taking the righteous path the gods would have me seek. If you didn't lack the worldly understanding of so much as a dormouse, I might be inclined to listen. But as it stands, I am not obliged to heed you."

You had no time to respond, as he turned on his heel and stalked down the royal family's wing. You stood in bitter silence, thoroughly lashed, as you watched him leave.

……….

The library was empty this morning. None of the maesters were hanging about as they often did, all busy after Aegon's crowning yesterday. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since you were informed that King Viserys was dead, yet the world felt upturned. Your warden, the now-Queen Mother Alicent, had brought you a dress to wear for the coronation, and you wore it again today, just without the ornamentations of jewelry. It was a deep green, a departure from the usual grays and blues you often wore, but you were grateful to her for it. It was difficult to not appreciate all she had done for you by bringing you to court, even if her son had scorned you.

You huffed and closed your book, setting it on the small stack you'd accumulated. You heard the far door open, but no footsteps. When you looked over your chair at the other patron of the Keep's library, you hurried to stand.

“Your highness,” you nodded at Aemond, watching him come further into the room. He seemed light on his feet today, not as angry as you had seen him as of late.

“Why the forlorn expression, my lady?”

“It is nothing, your highness.”

Your words lost their conviction the longer he stared at you, his eye seeming to peer into your soul. Aemond had stood beside you at Aegon's crowning, not looking at you the entire time. Whether that was due in part to his harsh words for you the night of the dinner, or more because his envy forbade him to look away from Aegon, you could not tell. But right now he was staring at you like you were the only thing in the room.

You let out a small breath and prepared yourself for a second round of insults today. “I was merely wondering how the Princess Rhaenyra must be feeling this morning.”

“Why?” His response was quick.

You struggled to keep your fingers still and indifferent to tension as you clasped them together in front of you. You glanced away from his hard stare.

“Why, my lady?”

You pursed your lips. “It just seems unfair, is all. It couldn't be easy for her, hearing what happened yesterday.”

“King Viserys changed his mind, my lady. Would you like to take it up with the queen mother?”

“No.” Your eyes snapped up to his face. “No, my prince, I would not dare.”

“And yet, I detect dissent."

"Not dissent, your highness," you shook your head lightly. "I have always known your mother to be the most trustworthy of figures. If she says King Viserys changed his mind, then I believe her. It's just that I feel some remorse for princess Rhaenyra; this has been her life's trajectory for some twenty-odd-years."

Aemond looked at you, his eye piercing. “My half-sister is not fit to be queen.”

“And his grace, King Aegon, is?” You said it quietly, but you knew after they had slipped out that your words could be interpreted as dangerous. “I only meant… King Viserys didn't ready his grace for the throne, not like he did with Princess Rhaenyra.”

Aemond looked at you with measurement in his brow. He leaned in slightly, looking at you with that veil in his eye, the one that hid him from any discernable emotion.

“Perhaps your thoughts are best kept to yourself, my lady. Do not speak to any other how you have spoken today.” You felt his breath on your face. “They may not be as forgiving as me.”

You nodded, closing your lips and taking a quiet inhale through your nose. He raised a brow, as though prompting you to respond, and you did, “I won't repeat myself to anyone, my prince. I'll stone the sentiment from my mind.”

He looked at you a moment longer, then pulled back. “Don't leave the Keep, my lady. Not even to visit the Sept. You must pray from inside these walls for the next few weeks.”

“Why?”

You could tell he didn't want to say at first, his shoulders tensing just a modicum. “It is for your protection, my lady. Who knows what Rhaenyra's side would do to you?”

“I have no part in this conflict among your family.”

“You do.”

“I don't, your highness,” you said more firmly. “I am a mere ward, there is no cause for any harm to befall me.”

“Rhaenyra's Council will see yesterday's events as an act of treason. Everyone who was on the dais yesterday, including you, my lady, will be treated as committing such treason.”

You closed your mouth.

“So,” he spoke with a slightly softer tone, “for the love of the Seven, stay inside.”

He once again prompted you with his brow, and you nodded, “I understand, my prince.”

……….

The evening had been strange for you.

After your library run-in with Prince Aemond that morning, you spent most of your day with Helaena, helping her care for the twins as she worriedly stitched. You had dinner in your chambers, feeling uncomfortable about being near most of the royal family right now. They were all busy, anyway; word had traveled yesterday with Rhaenys on the back of Meleys, informing Rhaenyra of Aegon's ascension, and your ward's family would undoubtedly be fortifying themselves, shoring up support for the crown in whatever way they could. An inkling whispered to you that they would surely marry you off to some lord to gain favour or loyalty, though you prayed that would not be the case. There was not a lord in the kingdom you'd met thus far whom you felt compelled to wed.

You did not prepare properly for bed that evening. All you did was take off your dress and collapse on top of your sheets, only your shift covering you as you quickly passed out. You had meant to just rest your body before you prepared a bath for yourself, but you did not rise again.

You dreamt of Aegon's coronation; all came to pass in the same way as reality, except as Ser Criston put the crown on his head, the people began to stir in outrage. Angered screams filled the dragon pit, and by the time Rhaenys and Meleys rose from the ground the crowd seemed to praise her for interrupting the ceremony.

Prince Aemond stepped in front of you again, as had happened in reality, except this time Meleys had opened her throat and fire had torched all in her path. You felt the heat of it, and as the line of fire came towards you and Aemond, your body jolted awake.

You gasped, moving to brace your hands over your face and save yourself from the flames. It was then you realized there was a warm weight on your stomach, something your hand had knocked against as you startled. Adrenaline returned to your veins and you pushed at the weight, but it pushed back, hands coming out to stop you at your wrists.

By the gods, it was a person.

You started to scream, terror taking reign as your mind raced with the possibility of who could be about to harm you. Was it an assassin sent by Rhaenyra to kill you in your bed, or a thief who had somehow crept into the Keep to defile you?

A hand quickly covered your mouth, and your jaw trembled so that you bit down, but there wasn't enough force to truly harm your assailant.

“Shh,” a voice came through to you in a quiet tone. “It is only me, my lady.”

Familiarity struck you, and you noticed the outline of long hair and the strap for a patch running over it. Your eyes caught on a lit carrying candle across the room, sitting on the dresser near your door, and you saw the way its light bounced softly off of white-blond hair. Your body stopped struggling.

“Aemond?” You murmured into his hand.

“Tis I.”

He removed his hand and you let out a breath with the realization it was just Aemond. But you weren't able to settle completely, especially not as he snaked down your body again, returning the weight of his head to your stomach.

“My prince, this is entirely inappropriate,” you muttered, your muscles freezing as he clung to you.

"I would never defile you, my lady," he whispered into your thin shift, his voice strained. "I only sought you for your familiarity."

Despite his arrogant behaviour towards you as of late, the weakness in his voice appealed to you, and you hesitantly set your hand on his head, your fingers lightly stroking along his scalp. You noticed then that his hair was damp. It was not raining outside the Keep, and Aemond looked too disheveled to have just cleaned in a bath. He must have been on dragonback this evening. Thinking this, you could smell traces of Vhagar on him. A sigh escaped you as you looked down at him.

"What is wrong, Aemond?" You asked lightly.

He would not say for a moment, then he pushed his face somehow closer to you, as though he wanted to burrow himself inside your body. “I have sinned.”

“What have you done?”

He shook his head slightly. “It is grave. Too grave for your ears.”

“Speak it.”

He shook his head again.

You sat up, trying to move out from under him as you huffed quietly. Aemond would not let you move more than this, his hands on your thighs and head having slipped down to your lap as you sat forward. You let out a soft scoff.

“Speak it, my prince, or I must ask you to leave.”

His fingers gripped your thighs, and you were reminded of how near he was to your skin despite your shift, his breath warm along the apex of your thighs. He loosened his hold again, and took in a deep breath.

“I was in Storm's End. Lucerys was there as well, and we quarreled in the sky. Vhagar… she… his dragon was so small in her jaw.”

You felt your heart drop in your chest.

“Aemond, tell me you didn't,” you whispered.

“I cannot lie to you.”

The resignation in his voice did you in, and you ran your palm along your face to stave your anxieties. You felt his nose pressing to your lower stomach but you weren't in a state to push him away, not when he'd all but admitted to slaying his nephew. You set your hand on his head, not stroking his hair but simply putting some weight on him in hopes it may provide comfort. When you next spoke, your throat was dry and you had to swallow your fear in order to make a sound.

"All you can do now is go to the Sept and pray to the gods for forgiveness."

His head shook on your lap. "There is no penance or prayer for what I have done."

You huffed, running your fingers through his hair. Aemond shifted, his hand on your thigh flexing as he tilted his head to the side to look up at you.

"Forgive me," he said. "Absolve me of my sins so that I may continue my life and end this conflict for my family."

"I'm not the one you need absolution from," you shook your head.

"It wasn't a request, my lady."

His lips were pursed and his eye was trained on you, assessing your face with scrutiny. You felt his hand on your thigh gripping just slightly too tight.

"Aemond, I…" you started, feeling your throat dry again. "Your highness, I am not comfortable with you here any more."

"It is not my wish to impose." He spoke as though he didn't see anything wrong with his actions. He made no move to get up.

"It is late, your highness. You must go."

He reached up, palming your cheek with a gentle but assertive touch. "You're warm."

"Prince Aemond, please," you muttered as you tried to shift him off of you. "You mustn't be here any longer."

"Just say it. And I know I will have the strength I need to end the rest of them."

"The rest of who?"

He shook his head yet again, pressing his face into your stomach once more. "I need you to say it. Tell me you forgive me."

"Aemond, you must leave."

As you moved to lean back against your headboard, trying to shake his weight, he sat up and braced his hands on either side of your lap. His slender, callused fingers dug into your bed sheets with a tense ruffle. His face was so close to yours, his breath warm on your cheeks. The look in his eye was impassioned, wide, and with a blown out pupil. His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy motion. Warm air puffed in and out on your face. You couldn't escape the feeling of his breath, or him for that matter.

The next breath you drew bordered on a gasp, however hard you tried to contain it. His eye dropped down to your lips, and you saw his mouth twitch before he could steel his expression and slip back into that impassive Aemond you knew best. You felt another breath on your skin, warm from his parted lips.

He pulled back, his eye losing that feral quality as he steadied himself before standing.

"I am sorry," he murmured, "for disturbing your evening."

His head dipped almost indistinguishably in a soft nod, then he left without a word.

You were still on your bed, crowded against the headboard despite being alone now. You blinked, looking at the candle on your dresser. It was the only evidence that Aemond had been in your room. You watched as the wax dripped in the dish, the wick burning nearly to the bottom. It was hard to say how long you watched the flame burn, but by the time the wick ran out, you had tucked your knees up to your chest, holding yourself as securely as you had Aemond.

……….

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment--I really appreciate the feedback! I'm gonna do more parts of this dynamic so please lmk if you wanna be tagged in them. Also if you want to request a fic for hotd, I will write for Aegon, Aemond, and Jacaerys, so please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fic

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