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bks-writing-adventures · 5 months ago

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His Strong Girl (Aemond X Strong! Reader)

Warnings: Brief mentions of bullying and gore, brief mentions of sex, Alicent being a momzilla.

Word Count: 6.5 K

Summary: Aemond has always loved his Strong Girl, she's nearly of age to mary, and he wants her before anyone else can have her.

120 AC

As children, Aemond had always loved her. Even though he knew that he should not. His mother filled his brain with poison, to hate Rhaenyra and all that was part of her, and that included her children. The Strong children, all four of them. It was easy to hate Jace and Luke. They teased him. They found him a pig and called him the second son. They laughed at him and kept them out of their fun. They were kind to the other children in the court, but for reasons he could not understand, he was different. It was so hard on his young brain. He was all that he was supposed to be. H

e could read and write, he had light hair and light eyes. He always prayed at dinner time, and he always wore clean clothes, always had his hair brushed. He did all of his lessons. So what ever could be wrong with him? When Joffrey came along, it was easy to hate him, too. There was no doubt that he would grow into the sculpting hands of his older brothers. As soon as he would talk, he would be name calling and lying too. But when it came to her. Well, it was impossible.

Her eyes were warm and kind, muddy brown like her brothers and her father. There was a small distance of age between them, a year and a half, but he could hardly tell. She was smart for her age. She was not puzzled by her lessons, and she listened well, could smile and nod. She cut her own food and lived in her own world. He kept his distance for a long time, whenever the whole family was forced together for weddings and funerals. But slowly, like butter beneath rays of sun, he warmed. He grew calm in her presence and peeled back his layers to be vulnerable.

To meet her in the library when she was in her pyjamas, and to whisper gossip that they had picked up in the halls. He had two sides of him. The side that hated the Strongs, and the side that loved. He was good at making sure they did not cross, that was, until the day his aunt died. He never knew much of her. He knew that she was pretty and powerful and rode the greatest dragon in the world. But he did not cry for her. He only stayed quiet as the respects were paid, and his eyes wandered the mourners for her.

She was caught up between her brothers and their cousins. Black looked odd on her. She always wore pink or blue, maybe red, but hardly ever. Despite being half Targaryen, she had no like for the color. She was all about pastels and ruffles and frilliness. He frowned as he watched, and the feet between them felt like miles. As the group looked over to him, he offered an awkward grin, only to be returned with nothing. His heart sunk deeper into his body, and he tried to give her a light wave, to grab her attention.

But there was nothing he could do, and he could feel her slowly slipping from his fingers. Disappointment ate away at him, and he said nothing to her the entire day. And she made no effort to talk to him, either. And so when evening came and he was alone, with no gossip to speak of in the library, and no puzzles to put together, he found himself in the dragon pit. Tiptoeing carefully, listening to the snore of beasts who had survived all of the worlds wars. The scratch of their claws against stone, and finally, the hiss of fire as it nearly caressed his face.

The sight of Vhagar was one unmatched, and he moved as though he were being controlled, a mere puppet of the gods as he slowly climbed the scaly creature. He screamed into the wind as it lapped at his hair, and he laughed with joy as they landed with a thump and a roar. All that he was missing in his life was against his palms, and his skin burned with the leather of the saddle. His heart had gone above the clouds, and it hadn’t come down, even as his shaky feet hit the floor, a smile bigger than he had ever worn stretched across his face as he moved to scurry away and back to bed.

He would tell his mother in the morning. She would be so proud. But fate had something else brewing for him, and he was met with the sight of his nephews and his cousins. He clung to the words he had heard from his mothers lips, and he threw them mindlessly as fists collided in the air. He did not remember half of it. And he did not know when it would end, gripping blindly at whatever he could find. A stone the size of his foot, lifting it above his head quickly, every one of his cells begging him to go through with the action. It could have only been a second, maybe not even.

From the moment he saw the dagger in his little nephews hand, he knew that this was all over. This temporary shot of joy, and it died like a flame to ash as blood soaked his hand. He couldn’t hear his scream, but he could feel it deep in his lungs as he smacked against the ground, clawing at it. He shouted profanities as the guards dragged him to the maesters. He stared at his mothers face, and he sat still as he was surrounded by all of his family. And as he prayed for comfort, he was met with only fighting.

Shouting back and forth between his mother and sister, his father was of no help, and every other moment he was stabbed with a needle, his mouth curling at the feeling as his nails scratched against the armrest of the chair. He knew the eye was gone, but seeing it laying broken in a dish like the bad parts of a chicken. It broke him, and he stared at the wall as blood hit the floor, and when he was finally asked where he had heard the words he shouted, he stared at his mother. Her brows were furrowed, a deep crevasse in the middle. Her brown eyes were shining with a mix of sadness and fury, a touch of fear as she looked over at him. He swallowed his pain and spoke a lie.

“Aegon.” He whispered out, and shut his eye for the rest to come. The last thing he remembered of that night was the look on her face, and the way her fingers curled, as if she wished to reach out and touch him, only to be quickly whisked away by Rhaenyra and Daemon. That was the night he decided his mother was right about them. All of them. Even his sweet, Strong girl. Because if she were truly strong, she would have come to him. Despite their orders, she would’ve comforted him. But instead, he was alone. Alone and scarred.

127 AC

When he learned that his sister and her bastard children would be coming to his home, he tried his best to act as normal as he could. He ate his breakfast of pork and eggs, sharpened his sword and trained with Ser Criston. He ignored the groans of his brother, and watched quietly as his sister bounced her babies on her legs. He could almost smile. But he knew exactly how the children came to be. And if Aegon were not his brother, Aemond would have his head on the wall. Dread grew in his stomach as the sun reached its peak, and he hit against Criston’s sword with the ferocity of a thousand men. With every strike, he thought of the night he lost his eye. He thought of the dagger against his skin, the way he was treated so coldly, and how she had done nothing. And every night after that he felt as though he were frozen, reliving the moment over and over. He could feel the pain in his cheek and forehead with every twitch in his lips.

Soon, the Prince promised he would stop smiling altogether, because maybe then, the pain would stop. And so when he saw his nephews, he stared them down, like a wolf to a rabbit. He liked to watch their discomfort, but his gaze, much to his distaste, softened when he caught sight of her behind them. She had grown beautiful with the years that had passed. Her once chubby cheeks were still round and flushed from the cool air, and her brown curls were pulled back by pins. She wore a pink gown that leaned toward purple, a bit dusty in its tone, covered in small swirls and patterns that he could not process from where he stood. His sweet girl. Her eyes were large, and freckles covered her. He didn’t remember her ever having freckles before, and it took Criston’s voice to break him from his trance.

“You will be ready for the tourneys in no time, My Prince,” the Knight spoke, to wish he scoffed.

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” He responded, his voice quiet and cold. He did not see the pint in galloping around on a horse, fighting other men and yelling like animals, all for the attention of ladies that were as shallow as a tide pool. No. He would save himself for her, if she would have him. And he was certain she would.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked, his voice louder than before, brows raised. Jace turned to look at his younger brother, and their faces paled. They were afraid, and the thought made Aemond’s heart fill with joy. He threw his sword to the dirt for his men to pick up later.

“And what of you, niece?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. Jace moved his shoulder to create a wall between them, but it did nothing for her curious eyes. She simply stood on her tiptoes, looked at him, and smiled. The sight brought a smirk to his lips, and when he walked to his chambers, he did so with a newfound confidence. He was quick to change into his outfit for the evening, one that covered every inch of his body, not even his wrists exposed. It made him feel better. As if it hid everything under. As if he were not still the runt of the litter. Even with all his training, he could never seem to grow.

He would always be the smallest of his kin, but what he lacked in size, he could make up for in skill. He could hardly wait for the evening meal. He was not hungry, but he was thrilled. To see her, to tease her. And maybe, if he were lucky, she would meet him in the library like old times. As he paced back and forth, he practically counted down the minutes until the sun finally fell. He groaned as they gathered for yet another meeting, but he could put up with it, if it meant seeing her.

She stood beside her mother, and it was only then that he could see a hint of resemblance between them. They had the same way of standing, and they were close in height. They shared a curved nose and a cunning gaze, but she only wore it softer. She had not yet seen violence, she had not watched the light fall from a mans eyes. She had not yet lost a love, and he could see her smile softly as the betrothals of her brothers were announced. He relished in the way that she nudged her brothers and gave them a teasing raise of brow before she remembered her surroundings, trying to return to her previously serious demeanor.

A smile pulled at his lips, and his eye narrowed as he stared at her, compelling her to look up at him. Please. He thought to himself, feeling his heart leap as their eyes met. She was just so beautiful. But the peace of her gaze was quickly broken when Vaemond began to speak of their heritage, and Aemond watched in displeasure as her brows furrowed, as her big eyes stared at the floor in shame.

The others, he could smile at. But to see her caught in the fight, to see her be called names.

It disgusted him. His back stiffened, and he bit his tongue. He would have plenty of time to speak to her later, to hold her in the years to come, to fuck the bastardy out of her. But he would have to wait. His hands curled in on themselves, and in a fraction of a moment, Vaemond was gone. His head hit the floor with a sloppy thump, Helaena turned away, her eyes huge and her hands on her head, and he watched as his Strong Girl practically mirrored her, her thumbs pressed against her ears and her fingers over her eyes. He sighed, staring at the body on the floor, his gaze slowly following the bloody sword until he was gazing at his uncle. Daemon. An interesting man he was. And slowly, Aemond smiled. This would be an interesting night.

When dinner time came, he took his seat and looked at the rest of the table. Baela and Rhaena, Rhaenyra and Daemon, and next to them, there she was. He smiled a little to himself. They always did that, sitting around her like a human shield, practically hiding her from his view. He followed his mothers words as she called for prayer, and he smiled to himself as his mother spoke of Vaemond Velaryon. The old man could never shut his mouth. The food came out in small rounds, starting with potatoes and bread, and he gazed at her as he licked the remnants of potato from his thumb.

Her eyes were so big, and he loved watching her cheeks get nice and flushed. And even more, he loved seeing how angry her brothers got, all while her mother remained clueless. When the main course came out, he stared in silence as the roasted pig sat in front of him. He could tell how this was going to go, lifting his head to stare right at Luke, seeing the beginning’s of a smile on his mouth. His hands curled into fists, and just as he moved to stand, she spoke. “Luke. Do not be impolite,” She whispered softly. She was soft and sweet, but she had such a bold presence to her when she wanted it.

“But-” Luke began, and she gently shook her head. “Eat your carrots. Mother said to be on our best behavior,” She said softly, reaching over to start cutting his soft boiled carrots up. Aemond frowned, slowly leaning back. He had so much anger to release, and no real reason to release it. She was a gem, that girl. She could so easily diffuse a situation. She was the type of woman that she be on the throne. They could share it together, one day. As the evening grew old and their stomachs were full, the music began to flow delicately on the harps. As soon as he saw Jace’s eyes brighten, he stood, walking around the table like a shark circling a helpless seal, placing his hands on the back of her chair.

“Aemond,” His mother spoke up, her voice filled with caution as she sat up straight. “Do not worry, mother. I only wish to know if my lovely, strong girl wants to dance with me,” He responded, his fingertips moving across her curls. Rhaenyra bit her cheek, and he could feel the tension growing like a cage.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys spoke, his hands flat on the table.

“Brother,” She said softly, gazing back at him. Their eyes met for nearly ten seconds, and finally, he looked away. “I will dance with you,” She spoke, pulling her chair from the table and gently taking his hand. “If you promise not to stomp on my toes,” She says, teasing him a little as he pulled her to the stone tiles.

“I will do my very best,” He whispered, his hands curling around hers. Her touch was so delicate, and he found himself taking a small whiff of her wrist. Raspberries and cashews. It was a unique scent, but it was hers. He wanted to bathe in it, paint it onto his pillow. “I have missed you,” He said softly. And he had. He often found himself dreaming of the possibilities. Of bringing Vhagar to her bedroom window. Of taking her to the skies and bringing her to the forest, where they were not a Prince and a Princess, but only teenagers in love. “You will be a woman grown soon,” He said softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms as he spun her under his arms. It would only be eight months before they were the same age, and it was only eight months before she would finally be on the marriage market. He just had to make his claim before anyone else could.

“I know,” She said softly, her fingers trailing to the cuffs on his wrist, touching the golden dragons with her gentle strokes. “I feel as though I was 9 only yesterday,” She mumbled, and he smiled in return.

“Tell me about it,” He mumbled, his hands moving down to her waist, his touch gentle. His eye wandered to the necklaces she wore, the ones that layered. The shortest was to her collarbone, and the longest was just between her breasts. A seahorse. A Velaryon symbol, something that didn’t belong to her, and they all knew it. His fingers slowly wandered to it, his thumb rubbing against the emerald eyes and the golden details. “This is a symbol of your fathers house, is it not?” He asked softly. His fingers slowly wandered up to cup her face, his fingers against her jaw, licking his lips.

“It is a symbol of the sea,” She said quietly, and he could see the turmoil in her eyes. He could feel the gaze of his family on him, and he knew they would not be pleased. But his mother was simply delighted, a scheming smile on her face.

“You like the sea, my lady?” He mumbled softly. They were hardly dancing anymore, he was just holding her close, holding her face, his thumb pressing against her lips.

“Who does not?” She asked softly, smiling a bit. She was always so sweet when she spoke of the sea, and he could see so much excitement in his eyes.

“I must admit, I have never had great love for it. Smells of salt and dying fish, and sand simply gets everywhere, the seagulls chase me,” He mumbles, making her laugh a little, brows raised in amusement.

“Perhaps they just like the look of you,” She said, and he smiled, head tilted.

“Is that what you think?” He asked.

“Well, if I were a seagull, I would go for you. Your hair would make a good nest,” She teases, making his eye roll. “But truly, you must be going to the worst spots. I have missed Kingslanding. The shores are beautiful,” She says. His heart thumped, and he found himself gazing into her eyes.

“Then you should stay,” He responded softly, leaning a little closer. It was hard to remember that they were surrounded, and that they were not the only people in the world.

“And how would I go about that?” She asked softly.

“You could marry me,” He spoke softly, and the whole room went silent, the notes on the harp fading out. Her brows raised, and she looked like she might giggle. She couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, blinking slowly.

“You do not mean that,” She said softly.

“Oh, but I do. You would be so happy here.” He mumbled, pushing some falling curls behind her ears, whispering gently against her skin.

“Wait for me, will you?” He mumbled. Her face flushed, and he could practically feel her heart pounding beneath her skin. She was about to speak, but the doors opened and cakes began to roll out, small cups of pudding, trays of lemon cakes and cookies.

“(Y/N), come sit,” Rhaenyra called, and she gazed up at Aemond for a moment, as if trying to speak, but nothing would come out. Slowly, they parted, moving to go back to their seats. Her cheeks were so warm, and she prayed that no one else could tell under the warm light of the candles. Immediately, Rhaenyra leaned toward her, searching her face for discomfort.

“What did he say to you?” She asked, noting the odd look of.. Something on her daughters face. It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t discomfort. She just couldn’t place that expression.

“Nothing, mother,” She said softly. All eyes were on her, and Daemon wore a smirk like a man would wear a crown.

“I believe she has feelings for the boy,” He whispered, making Rhaenyra’s eyes widen. She looked disgusted, for a brief moment, but she quickly hid her distaste, blinking it away as she took lemon cakes onto her plate.

“We will talk about this later,” She said quietly, plucking the sweetened lemons from the top of the cake and placing one in her mouth. Daemon reached over and took the cake itself. They had a system. She would eat the fruits, and he would eat the parts she did not want. Meanwhile, she reached for a cookie, breaking it into small pieces on her plate, trying her best not to look at Aemond. She could tell that he was getting the same treatment on his side of the table, a knowing smile on his face as his mother shook his arm, trying to juice information out of him. He only chuckled to himself, taking a few sips of his wine. When the dinner finally ended, she was a blushing mess as she followed her mother, looking over her shoulder to see Aemond going in the other direction, a silent agreement in their eyes. They would see each other in the library tonight. As she took her bath, all she could think of was him.

Him and his offer, and the more she thought of it, the more she smiled. She trusted him more than she ever could a stranger. And she began to think of how she could convince her mother to let it happen. She trusted that Aemond would never hurt her. Maybe men that acted out of their place, maybe annoying nephews at the dinner table, but never her, and she was confident in that. And perhaps the marriage could bring the family together. Rhaenyra had wanted Jace to marry Helaena, after all. She did have a desire for the families to mix. That was it. That would be her selling point. “Some time alone, please?” She asked the maids as they scrubbed her body and hands.

“Of course, Princess,” They responded, quickly leaving. She sighed softly, ringing out her loofa as she looked at the mirror. Perhaps if she had children with Aemond, they would come out with white hair. Maybe they would have a better life than her. Her eyes then wandered to her seahorse necklace, and she remembered her father, before his death. Her life had been an odd one. She felt like she had a new father every couple of years, and in truth, she had. She had the father who’s seed she grew from, who taught her how to count and tucked her into bed during his shifts on the nightwatch.

She had the father who taught her how to fish, and which shells made the best necklaces, and which crabs were dangerous. And then she had the father that taught her to be bold, the one who married her mother the day after his own wife died. That had been a tough one, and in truth, she still was not warmed to Daemon. She did not like the way he treated her precious mother, and she swore to herself that she would never have a marriage like theirs. When she was finally dried of her bath, she looked out to the stars.

She looked for her favorite constellations, and she smiled as she remembered the library in the Red Keep. It was beautiful and large and full of enough books to last a lifetime. She was quick to get into her pyjamas, and even quicker to open her door, looking up at her guard.

“Excuse me,” She said softly, stepping out. “Are you going somewhere, Princess?” He asked, a look of confusion on his face. He had a long beard, and she was sure he had seen him before.

“Yes,” She answered, making her way down the corridor without saying anything else. She made her way as quiet as she could to the library, passing a rat or two that made her heart jump. That was something that she had hated about the Red Keep. There was nothing on the windows, so animals would come and go as they pleased. She much preferred mice over rats. Something about their tails tickled her brain in the worst of ways. When she finally did reach the library, her eyes searched for him, and she felt disappointment rising in her like steam when she could not find him. Perhaps she had gotten the wrong message. Maybe she made up the language of the eyes. But she would not waste her trip, beginning to pick out a book or two on constellations and The Moon and The Tides.

“You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” His voice made her jump, and she gripped her skirt as her eyes searched for him. “So close, my little doe. Look down,” He spoke, and when she did, she found him hiding under one of the tables in a pile of blankets. She smiled, crouching.

“Are you hiding?” She asked softly. She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but she could feel warmth radiating from him.

“I am not hiding. I simply wanted to see how long it would take to find me,” He responded, reaching for her hand and pulling her down. This was much easier when they were kids, but now he was longer than the table, and the needed more pillows.

“So you have just been watching me walk around aimlessly?” She teased, making him nod.

“Oh, of course,” He spoke softly, his hands finding her cheeks, squishing them gently. “I want to speak with my sister,” He mumbled softly, pulling her closer until her belly was against his chest. “I will not marry you until I get her permission,” He said softly. She nodded softly, leaning her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart racing, and she smiled at the feel of the vibrations.

“I did not take you for the type to want Mommy’s blessing,” She mumbles, making him scoff.

“I know better than to take away her little girl. She owes me this much, for all that has been done to me,” He spoke, and her hand slowly made its way up to his eyepatch.

“I am sorry that I said nothing that night,” She mumbled, and he softened against her touch.

“You were only a child,” He said quietly.

“As were you. None of us deserved all that has happened to us. If it is any help, I stole Luke’s desserts for a week,” She mumbled gently.

“Ah, yes. That is the most appropriate punishment,” He teased, making her roll her eyes.

“I did what I could.” She speaks, her lips brushing against his forehead, placing a small kiss there. A bit of his hair got into her mouth, and he squirmed, making him chuckle.

“Are you trying to make a nest of my hair?” He asked, recalling their earlier conversation.

“Oh hush.” She mumbled, curling up into him. Neither of them meant to fall asleep, but it was just so warm and comforting, and slowly, they fell into a slumber, feet sticking out of their fort. When they woke, it was to yells so loud they thought someone was killed. Both sat up far too quick, smacking the tops of their heads against the wooden tables. In shame, they crawled out quickly, her eyes big as she stared up at both of their mothers.

“What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenyra asked. She sounded so angry, but her eyes were not on her daughter, they were on Aemond, her lips pressed into a fineline.

“We were having a sleepover,” He said simply. “You know what that is like, don’t you sister? Didn’t you used to have sleepovers with your friends quite frequently?” He asked. He couldn’t speak without being antagonistic.

“Aemond!” She and Alicent exclaimed at the same time.

“Mother, please. I promise it was nothing. We were only speaking,” She said softly, eyes on the floor as she was pulled closer, her face and neck inspected for marks. “We just wanted to do as we used to as children, that is all,” She said softly. Rhaenyra slowly calmed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“He did nothing to you?” She asked.

“Of course not. Aemond would never hurt me,” She spoke, feeling Aemond’s hand moving to her shoulder.

“That much is true,” He spoke. “Sister, it has been a long time since we have spoken face to face,” He said, his eyepatch on the floor, having fallen off in his sleep. He wanted her to look at him in full, to see all that he had become.

“That it has,” Rhaenyra spoke, her face void of emotion.

“You know that I love your daughter. That has never been a secret. Do not deny her happiness because of one misunderstanding.” He said, making Rhaenyra’s face slowly fall. Her eyes looked to Alicent, as if she had any part in this. She simply shrugged, mouth parted.

“What are you saying, Aemond?” She asked her youngest son.

“I am saying that I wish to unite our families. I will marry (Y/N).” He spoke, leaving no room for discussion. Rhaenyra stared blankly at the pair. She had wished to stop the resentment between the families, and this would be the perfect way. But she could not bear the thought of her daughter staying here, alone with him, with them. She knew that (Y/N) would marry one day, but she just didn’t realize how soon that would be. But as she saw her daughters smile, and the hope in her eyes, she just could not say no. “Very well.” She spoke after a moment, letting out a deep breath.

“I will allow it. But you will wait the moons until her name day. We will ensure that this is what she truly wants,” She spoke, nodding to herself. Alicent was more hesitant, running through the possibilities in her mind. This was not what she wanted, not one bit. She wanted as much distance between the two families as possible. And what would the people say when they learned that the Prince was marrying a bastard? Her blood was good as dirt, and she came from a family of liars and narcissists. But no matter what she said, she knew her son would do as he pleased, so finally, she nodded, looking down at the floor.

128 AC The wedding day came quicker than either of them had expected. For at least three hours a day it was just planning, planning, planning. Trying on rings and taking them off, getting as close as they could without their chaperones making a fuss, whispered compliments and holding hands under the table. And of course, having to remind Alicent that this was not her wedding. “Oh, but wouldn’t a green dress be so lovely?” She asked, holding the fabric to (Y/N)’s skin. Rhaenyra could sense her discomfort, giving a light shake of her head.

“No. She has already decided to wear a gown similar to mine,” She spoke, and as Alicent went to open her mouth, she quickly spoke again.

“Don’t you remember that from when you were young? How old were you, nine or so? I found you in my chambers trying to get the dress on. It was much too long for you then,” Rhaenyra smiled fondly as she sipped her tea.

“It will not fit her,” Alicent pointed out, to which Rhaenyra smiled.

“It is a good to live in the time of seamstresses, is it not? I have already had it expanded and altered to suit her. You should worry about your son. Black leather at a wedding would be quite improper,” She spoke. Aemond sighed, slowly making eye contact with his betrothed. The pair were rather calm, but their mothers… were certainly something.

“I have already had his clothing commissioned. He will wear a fine beaded doublet of dragons and seahorses, in nod to her…. Velaryon heritage,” Alicent spoke, her voice soft and sarcastic, making Rhaenyra’s eyes roll. (Y/N) could not take it anymore.

“In all respect, this is my wedding. It is our wedding. We do not need this petty argument ruining our day. We both have fine clothes to wear, we have stunning rings, invitations are sent, and that is the end of it.” She spoke, looking between the two older women, watching them go silent. And so the pair would sit and wait for the day to come, resting together in the gardens, watching the sun fall and rise as they ate their meals on a blanket. They were romantic and disgusting, living in their own little world, just them and their chaperone.

“I cannot wait until we are finally wed and can be alone,” He sighed, rubbing her hand, kissing the top of her engagement ring. It was golden and covered in stones. It was far from traditional, and it was exactly the type of thing that she enjoyed.

“Nor can I,” She said softly, smiling as she saw a bunny running across the grass.

“Only a few days left,” he said softly. “You are certain you want to go through with this? There is still time to call it all off,” He mumbled, making her scoff.

“Of course I am certain. I will just have to prepare myself for more of your mothers comments,” She responded teasingly.

“Oh, Gods. Are do not want to think about that. I only wish to think of what it will be like to finally kiss you, to share our names and bodies… to finally sleep in the same bed and wake up to the sight of you every morning,” he murmured, making her cheeks burn.

“Stop it,” She mumbles, too embarrassed to listen to any more of it, placing her hands on her ears, making him chuckle as he pulled them off.

“I am thrilled to see your pretty face all sleepy and puffy, and to share our evening meals, to have painting after painting made of you to hang on my walls until I cannot escape those pretty eyes,” He smiled. She squirmed under him, flattered and grossed out, covering her crimson cheeks. “Hm.. the bugs are coming out,” He sighed as the sky got dark and frogs bred in the distance. She sighed, and they carefully packed up their things and made their way back to the Keep. Alicent was watching them from her balcony, and the two walked a safe distance apart. Only a few more days they would have to hold themselves together. And finally, on the 18th day of the 11th moon, all of the Lords and Ladies of importance were packed inside the Red Keep. Beautiful gowns twirling under candle light, the best of music echoing from the harps. Aemond tried to breath as he walked in, his eyes finally finding her.

And gods, he would marry her a million times over. Her curls were full of pearls and small pins, half of her hair up and the other half down. His palms were sweating, pressing against his doublet. He was painfully aware of everyone looking at him, but he couldn’t look away from her.

“(Y/N).” He murmured softly as she finally stood in front of him. He was struck dumb by her beauty, blinking slowly.

“Aemond,” She said softly, their voices quiet and kept to the loudness of a breath. Both of their faces red as the Sept read off some text, but neither of them were paying attention. Hurry up, Aemond thought to himself, getting increasingly more anxious as the minutes passed. And finally, as silence covered them, he reached forward, held her cheeks, and pressed a big kiss to her mouth. It was sweet and awkward, and their teeth bumped for a brief moment. All of the love they had collected for each other in the last months came oozing out, her hands holding his until they finally parted, looking at each other, their breath lost.

“And you have… kissed your bride.” The Septon spoke, a bit awkwardly, as if this had never happened before. And it had not. The crowd was quiet, looking around for the reaction they were supposed to have, until they finally erupted in applause.

“I love you, My Strong Girl,” He whispered into her ear. She smiled up at him, arms around his shoulders as flower petals flew like rain.

“Aww, thank you,” She said, making his eye squint. She laughed, her thumbs pressing her cheeks.

“And I love you too, my One Eyed Prince,” She mumbled, feeling his arms around her waist, holding her close as if he wished to absorb her. And so the One Eyed Prince and The Strong Girl lived the happiest they could, despite the violence around them and the whispers in their ears, their love never died. Burning furious and strong like Vhagar’s flame, and with every five years that passed, they would have wedding after wedding after wedding, until they were wed beneath all the gods and above all the land. Until their love could not be denied, and until they died, where their ashes were mixed and mingled with the shore, covered in shells and seahorses.

I think this might be the longest fic i've posted so far! I hope you enjoyed it!!

Thank you to everyone who reads.

♡- BK

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 7 months ago

Note

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, age gap relationship (W=35, R=20) W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley requests #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #shy!reader #innocent!reader #fem!reader

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elizzsush · 4 months ago

Text

“Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” | DC - Batman WIP

Batfam X Isekaied Reader

— in which you, a DC fan gets isekaied into and gets saved by boy wonder. Only to get mad at him and B… it’s only after you calm down (still mad at them) you piece together what actually happened… but should you tell them?

AU: Soulmate (?), isekai Rating: Sfw

Note: You and Damien are the same age and shit. I don’t really remember how old he is but for the sake of fanfiction let’s age him up to 18 (or down I looked it up and it said he was 37? I have no idea where that info was from comic are confusing)

Warning: Y/N swears a lot and makes a like one sexual joke? _________________________________

One minute you were in the greatest, most magical place in the world: Six flags. And the next you were in the sewer. To say you were pissed and totally confused was an understatement. Those funnel cakes by the entrance were calling your name- you were gonna get one before you left! Now instead of that sweet cake smell it was replaced with the smell of shit and piss and whatever else lived in the sewer.

Sixflags was suppose to be relaxing- doctors orders. You just needed to relax and distract from-

You were in the sewers. You dreaded to think about what you may have stepped in while on your quest to find a manhole cover.

So yes, you looked like an idiot in a Superman cape carrying a Wayne enterprises mug wondering around the sewers. The mug was half off and made you feel like you existed in the world of DC instead of the regular merchandise… and the cape was because who doesn’t get a cape when they go to six flags? Or at least bring the cape they already bought with them. Looking back, you blamed the mug. Anyway, you were wandering around this horrible sewer with water greener then green. It seriously looked toxic… when you heard this horrible roar…

You glanced back from where you came- looking towards the sound, when you heard it again. So, like any sane person. You broke out into a sprint.

Bad ideas, because it heard you and was coming closer now.

You seriously doubted you would be able to outrun this thing for long. It was getting closer and rapidly. But, thankfully, luck was on your side- because you saw a manhole cover!

Climbing the ladder you pushed the thing open-

Only to almost get ran over by a fucking car! “Watch it!” You cursed at the speeding car, a certain finger proudly in the air as you climb out. Momentarily forgetting about the creature that was chasing you. Remember that you slammed the man hole cover shut in a hurry.

But, did you think you could compete with some monster when it comes to the battle of strength? Yeah, didn’t think so either. It blasted the manhole cover off of its neat little spot and you hurry back and away from the road. “What the- oh my god.” You breath in relief when the thing was too big to actually climb out of the sewers. “Killer croc… okay… I’m losing it… whatever it is…” you try and breath out to collect yourself but you were interrupted by the sound of a very angry lizard man… thing. Crocodile? “Okay fuck off!” You shouted angrily at the villain and rip your cap off. “Abusive aunts or some shit is hard but by god your annoying!” You huff and run away because that just made him more angry and you didn’t want to stick around for that.

You did run away while waving two fingers at him, each from the middle of two of your hands but that was neither here nor there. You just needed to walk away and clear your head-

And…

You bumped into someone on your little escape. A chest of a fucking cosplayer. “My day couldn’t be going worse- oh my god, Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” You swore at the boy in black, red and green. “Six flags was suppose to be fucking relaxing!” You swore at him and turned away to go the opposite way only to bare witness to the snarls of a certain croc

“get back here!” He made the fucking ground shake.

“Fuck you and your shitty Damien cosplay, I am out of here.” You turn and ran from him only he to met with the silhouette of a bat… man, it was fucking Batman. “Oh I wonder who it is? Bruce Wayne, no fucking duh, Go fight the idiot on acid and leave me out of it.” You hissed because you were cornered. You tend to lash out when your cornered. He approached you quieter now. “…Oh um, I’ll take the crocodile, thanks.” You spoke as you backed up only for him to make the ground shake harder-

“Fine! Boy wonder then god damn. At least he’s hot!”

“How do You know our names?” Boy wonder piped up. He was suddenly standing beside you.

“Are You dense or really into role play?” You hissed at them. “I don’t know what kind of budget your little prank crew is working with but screw off!” Just then the crocadile managed to ruin the ground around him and break free- resulting in Batman and Robin to fight him and you-

The sane one to run away, “I’m so suing six flags for this- didn’t sign up for their fucking role-play shit.”

—————————————

Okay, so after adjusting. You were no longer in six flags- nor some rich nerds cosplay special effects whatever. Hell you didn’t even somehow end up on a movie set shooting for the next Batman. “Gotham more like god dammit, right?” You joked to yourself, and the old women next to you. She just looked at you weirded out and oddly disappointed before shaking her head. “Okay, Fuck me then.”

So, yeah, you were feeling a lot of emotions. Hey, you can adjust to this! Because no way in hell was getting back to your world worth being involved in whatever episode or comic plot this whole thing was. Yeah no, fuck that. You made a checklist.

1. Get out of Gotham (metropolis was lovely, Superman was cool-)

2. Get enough money to fuck off to some corner of the world no one knew about.

And finally 3. Live peacefully knowing you’ll never get that funnel cake.

The only problem? You didn’t have any money, food, shelter, phone, money again, or anything besides the clothes on your back. And you were craving funnel cake. Yes, you were poor in Gotham. That was basically a death sentence.

At least you had a mug. A stupid, useless mug. Hey, at least you can beg for change with it! “I should rob people.” You mutter to yourself because, that seemed like a good easy way to get money- the old women next to you however eyed you warily and moved her purse. “Not you, we’re cool Margaret.” You sent her a wave and a wink and got up. This plan would work.

It was this or sell the Justice leagues names to villains. Which- hey that could make cash and make you dead!

—————————————

Despite what people will tell you, stealing is fun.

Who would have guessed- your a natural pick pocket! If pick pocketing was running past women and tugging their bags away. “My bag! My purse!” Okay, maybe you had a bit of a sick sense of humor but you were desperate! And you made 132 dollars and 25 cents. Had it been two days? Yes, had you been pepper sprayed twice? Yes again, but you avoided it!

The only regret you had? Why hadn’t it been marvel? Marvel just seemed easier to live in. Yes the world did end but it bounced back! You sighed and threw a penny in the air. You were honestly tired. Two days was a long time to go without a bed. You couldn’t get a job either, you tired and needed so much to prove you were a serial killer or a thief- which included a birth certificate you didn’t have and so much more. Background checks would be the death of you. Even at that small cafe you met Margret? Yeah it was Margret. “Well we’ll well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest petty criminal.”

You dropped your penny. Leaving you with 24 cents.

It was Jason fucking Todd.

“If I die, at least make it by those thighs.” You said solemnly, accepting your death. “I mean seriously, you squat or something?” You did a wolf whistle and now you were being detained. Okay, you tried.

You never claimed to be better then a man. And if you did you lied.

“I got her B.”

“Banananannaan Batman! Da Na!” You sang as Batman’s Batmobile pulled into the bat cave. The same one you had been dragged too. “He’s the crime fighting vigilantes who works alone! Besides Robin, Nightwing, Gordon, the Justice League, batgirl, Red Robin, red hood, Oracle, Barbra, um… I know theirs more help me out jay bird?” You sang as he excited the car. “He refuses to kill the joker who’s a mass murder ands death would save thousands! It’s Batman! The hero man! Danananana!”

“How do You know?” Batman asked as he walked towards you.

“The Song? Oh I improvised. Hard to find rhymes for Batman, hero man is pretty good though, huh?” He fucking punched you! “Fuck! What the hell dude? Wait are you the angry Batman who’s quieter or the nice Batman- god it’s so hard to know which one I ended up with.”

“This is serious.” Dick Said as he grabbed Batman hand and pulled him away from you.

“Heard of coping? penis?” You rolled your eyes, “this is kinda how I do it.”

“You sold our information, or Superman’s information too a villain. Tell us why and how you knew it and we’ll let you go.” He continued, “our friend is in serious danger now because of you.” He gritted his teeth looking upset.

You just rolled your eyes and licked your now bloody teeth. “Would have sold your guys information for a lot more then I got on me. Living large with eight dogs- maybe cats? Don’t know how I feel about animals actually. Which do you prefer dogs or cats?”

“We need to know how many villains you sold us out too.” Dick said calmly, his face getting closer to your own. “Now.”

You smile and lean closer to him. “You free after this?” He backed away with a frustrated look and Batman put his hand on Dick shoulder. “Oh B is tapping in now- great!”

“Your the only person who knows who we are.” Another voice said you looked behind you and saw Damien.

“That you don’t trust. Maybe check your inner circles before punching a poor thief! God… you’d think the world greatest detective would fact check- oh wait isn’t the greatest a chimp or something? I’ve always loved monkeys- oh maybe I’d get a monkey for my pent house.”

“You have no family, no friends, no birth certificate- before last week you didn’t exist. There are no records of you being born or traveling to Gotham. Who exactly are you?” Batman leaned close to you.

You stayed silent, thinking of your options. "I was with a traveling circus..." You began, "Then one day someone rigged the equipment for my parent's routine and then batman adopted me, and that was how I began robin..." You spoke solemnly, you noticed how a certain blue suited bird man tensed up. "Aw, don't tell me we have the same backstory!" You accused the Nighwing, "well one of us is going to have to change it and I hate to tell you, but I make it work."

"She knows more about us than our names... or at least more about Nighwing." You heard a robin mutter, the red one.

"Okay being red was his thing” you look at red hood, “and you took it, so you have no place to talk about me and penis's copycat situation- Even though I totally did it first and he should change it." You nudged your head towards Red Hood, "Kinda like how you took his role as Robin, but you know what Ima stay away from that can of worms haha." You laughed awkwardly as Jason stood up from behind you and walked towards you menacingly.

"This is a Major Turn Off for me you know? The costumes just don’t do it- maybe if you strip-“ and your mouth was tapped shut.

_____________________________________NOTE: Y/N is supposed to be Deadpool coded because I was watching Deadpool and laughing my ass off earlier.

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jinxs-gf · 4 months ago

Text

The Human Spider

The Team x Spider!Reader

summary: you are this universe’s one and only spider-person.

warnings/content: set before the 1st episode of young justice s1, a few marvel references, this whole thing is from the perspective of the reader who’s basically Spider-Man so the writing is a bit silly…but I like it

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is essentially an introduction to this world, I’m really hoping I can pop a couple fics within this little universe 😭🙏🏽 if not then…I’m sorry LMAO. only time will tell. ENJOY!!!

Life was good.

I mean, how could it not be? You got to fight side by side with some of Earth's greatest heroes. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash...oh and Black Canary and—

Yeah. It was great. Not to mention how incredibly easy it was for you to defeat the bad guys you'd fought. You definitely didn't have four near death experiences because of them!

Well you did, but they were completely your fault and not at the hands of a couple of phony villains. They happened before you got used to your powers and gone through extensive training.

It seemed like a curse at first, but now you take them with stride. Your super strength foreign as you'd broke nearly everything in your apartment (that hadn't been a fun thing to explain to your Aunt and Uncle when they came home to a trashed place). Sticky hands well...getting stuck to literally everything. The amount of money you spent replacing your clothes after accidentally ripping up your whole closet only trying to get ready for school...that was also not fun explaining to your guardians.

And the webs. Oh boy. You didn't want to think about it. The hole in your wrist that shot out webs like a proper spider freaked you out the most. You nearly turned yourself in to the government after that one. It was something that took the most mental work to control, the weird hole (yuck) closing up when you didn't need it.

The one thing you did appreciate immediately was the abs. Yeah, those were nice to wake up to one morning.

Today was just another day in your life. A simple mission happening in the middle of the city. Actually it was a pretty unusual mission, it wasn't the regular Ice Family or Joker cult you were fighting...but a Rhino. Seemingly a man in a Rhino cosplay. And his henchmen? Definitely not something you see everyday, but you have seen weirder.

Speaking of his henchmen...there was a lot of them. Enough to keep each member of the team occupied. They had insanely advanced weaponry, surprisingly keeping the fight going for a while.

You hadn't realized so many of the guys were on you now, all surrounding you and trying to shoot at you with guns that weren't spitting out regular bullets.

You look to your side and see your best friend (he doesn't think so but that's what you tell everyone so deal with it sucker). Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, Roy Harper under the mask, and Pain in the Ass (a nickname you'd affectionately given him) to you.

You were in a compromising position, one that you could easily get yourself out of. But now you've spotted an unoccupied Roy and you wanted to have a little fun admist the chaos.

"Hey pain in my ass! A little help here!" The men were now taking shots with their fists, all failing to land their hits of course. And your best friend had completely ignored you.

"Hellooooo you know I'm talking to you!"

"I told you I wouldn't answer when you called me that. And I thought I made myself very clear." Definitely referring to the embarrassing way he took you down in front of the team after harassing him all week with the nickname a month ago.

"Well you answered right now soo...."

An arrow suddenly flew right past you, nearly grazing your cheek. A couple more followed.

"Um hello?! You nearly took me out!"

"That's my way of saying cut it out while saving your ass. And don't your spidey senses detect that kind of stuff? Danger and threats? You should've seen them coming."

"Huh. Guess you aren't as threatening as you think you are. At least not with that silly little hat on."

He simply glared at you. He was definitely going to kick your ass later. (Again).

With your guys dealt with, you turned to watch as Flash and Kid Flash emptied out a school bus on the road. Well, watched was a strong word. The job was done before you could fully process what was happening.

And suddenly that same school bus was being throw your way by the Rhino-man. Directly above your head actually.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

This was the third time that's happened to you this week!

He had good aim, you'll admit. It landed on you perfectly, but thanks to your incredible strength he seemingly didn't know about (how could he not? You're literally the Spider-Person from tv! Spider-Person...pfft what a stupid name. No one seemed to come up with something better), the biggest indicator to this being his shocked face. Oh how you loved that look. You threw it right back at him. Jokes on Rhino-man, you also had incredible aim.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a school bus to take me out!" Although you could feel the nearly broken rib and bruises you'd need to get checked out before you went home today.

You sighed happily, dusting your hands, "light work to me. Maybe try one of those city buses next time? Might be heavier and more effective-"

The words barely left your mouth before a city bus was being throw at you, "Wait I didn't actually mean it!" You caught the bus this time. And although your senses knew the danger was coming, it was still a bus that caught you off guard with its weight. Your legs and arms quivered at the force of having to hold it up, you could feel every bruise spotted on your body with the strain and it was not fun. While your body healed faster than the average human, it definitely wasn't fast enough to recover from the previous hit.

The back of the bus was fully tipped to the sky. You prayed there was no one in this thing. And sure you were strong, but there was no way you could tip it back on its wheels without potentially hurting someone.

Luckily Superman helped you with that, seeing you struggle. He easily took it off your hands (show off) and maneuvered it so it was placed safely back on the road.

"Thanks Supes!" He gave a nod and his famous smile.

It was only a couple more minutes of fighting and cars being thrown around before the whole thing was wrapped up. The adults would give their words to the police and news reporters, blah blah blah...

While they did that, you and your best friends, the teens (the cooler ones) got together like you always did after a mission.

Superman is being interviewed by the infamous Lois Lane (the talk of the teen team, there was definitely tension there).

All while Wally stands a little behind them making faces and ridiculous poses for the camera. The rest of you stood out of shot either cackling or rolling your eyes.

Wally steps back, clearly offended. "What? All he's doing is flirting with her in front of a live audience. Remember what they said last time? No one's gonna be paying attention to me."

Robin snickers, "What? The whole 'no one can take Superman' 'but you sure can'?" He repeats their words in poorly done impressions.

"That was totally an innuendo!"

"Very mature KF."

"Hey! Robin and Spider laughed with me. And I saw Speedy’s smirk, he sat there trying to pretend he didn't find it funny. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass, Aqualad?"

Roy, completely serious, replies, "Now that's no way to talk to the adults' favorite."

You perk up, "oh, me?"

Your friends immediately explode into disagreement, apparently in disbelief you'd think such a thing.

It was a simple story, how it all came to be. You got bit by a spider (totally cool about it).

Totally didn't scream your ass off because of it and stay paranoid the rest of the day, constantly thinking there was a creepy crawler on you...no. You found out the next day that you weren't actually paranoid—if you were in the first place, which you were not! Because apparently the spider had camped out in your clothes all day and night...

You totally didn't scream your ass off again that morning at the revelation.

You did scream at the sight of abs on your body that same morning though. And that's the only reason you'll ever thank the spider, forget the cool powers.

After that you thought it would be cool to use your powers for good, inspired by your uncle. You decided to have your own cool hero costume, symbol, and name (which you still haven't gotten. You originally thought of the Human Spider. People on the streets called it dumb, claiming they would not be calling you that). You had (unfortunately) been (TEMPORARILY!) named the Spider-Person. Which was insanely stupid and you needed to come up with something quick before it stuck completely. Maybe the Human Spider wasn't so good but it wasn't as bad as your unofficial name now!

Anyways, as for the cool hero costume. You had to use what you had at the time, which was...your normal clothes. Getting a costume online seemed cheap, and dressing up as an existing character in the media and saving people seemed wrong. It would only deny your identity as a hero. So you put on whatever clothes (mostly colorful pajamas) that you had, covered the bottom half of your face with a bandanna, and called it a night. And boy did that get you a lot of ridicule, but you got the job done, right? The only thing it didn't do was protect your body from scrapes and...stab wounds. You hated little knives.

You're not the smartest in the world and it's not like you had the money someone like Bruce Wayne could pull out of their ass and make cool superhero wear.

Once you were recruited by Batman, he gave you your own hero costume—no, suit. Every suggestion you made was followed. It was perfect. The mask had to be your favorite part though. Something you didn't suggest was the some type of magic on it, something called hammerspace. Basically you could have any type of hair, or ears...probably even a pair of headphones on your head and it won't show through. It'll seemingly disappear to this hammerspace (you weren't sure how it worked exactly, but it works nonetheless so you won't question it). The magic was done by a team member who was needed very rarely named Zatara. Another man with a silly hat on his head.

You attempted to try it with Batman to see if his bat ears would disappear (which was completely encouraged by Robin by the way. No- completely his idea!) He was not happy. (You got benched for a month...no patrols, no missions...and Robin got off scott-free! How was that fair?!)

Wally starts to bring up your part of the fight, specifically the bus incident.

"Hey isn't that the third time that's happened to you this week?"

You sigh, exasperated and playing it up, "yes."

Robin butts in before you could say anything more, "Couldn't you have caught them? Y'know with your spidey senses and incredible strength?" He has the nastiest smirk on his face. His smartass totally figured you out.

"Well yeah, duh. But it's fun seeing the looks on the bad guys' faces when they realize I'm not dead and I can carry a however many pound bus! Is that so bad?"

"No but it's embarrassing for us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, our best friend who's powers include crazy senses that gives them insane reflexes? That best friend can't catch a big, yellow bus being thrown at them? Embarrassing." The one time Roy will take the claim as your best friend is when he's insulting you? Unsurprising.

Kaldur cut in, sensing your defense a mile away, "It is pretty shameful of you."

Your jaw dropped, even Kaldur of all of people was agreeing? Oh this is insane!

You point a figure at your friends, trying to get your threat across, "Well I find that incredibly offensive and you should all take that back before I-"

"Isn't the point of your powers to detect danger before it comes? How come that's the third time this week you've been hit by a school bus? It's embarrassing, Spider." Batman's monotone voice made his words all the more insulting. Your frown deepened.

You sigh, "Yup. Real embarrassing for me. I got that."

"No, embarrassing for me. I've got a reputation to keep up."

He walks away without another word.

"I can't tell if he was trying to joke around like you guys were, but I'm still offended."

"He was being dead serious. And for the record, so were we."

I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic. I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??

#young justice x reader #spider & the team #robin x reader #kid flash x reader #aqualad x reader #red arrow x reader #roy harper x reader #wally west x reader #young justice fanfiction #dc fanfic #I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic #I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??#hello

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emmaofnormandy · 4 months ago

Text

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children… to whom you are the greatest defender. (Part II)

Warnings: this time we have drama, angst, but fluffy like usual. Maybe some smut. Long post.

@dracaryxzs tagging you once more, hope you like it!

***

• The Last Feast.

You are present at your father’s last dinner. Despite detesting the circumstances, you put an effort at your husband’s request, as much as either of you are uncomfortable with this growing awkwardness—thanks to your father’s preference over Rhaenyra and your mother’s likewise neglect.

Not to mention the Strong bastards who tease your lover endlessly—as well as your younger brother Aemond. You recollect how, when you were ten and two summers, you hit Jacaerys in his face and kicked Lucerys’ belly after their bullying over your family.

“You have no idea whom you are messing with, boys. I may be kind, I may be sweet, but I am as dragon as either of you are. If yet one may say so… considering there’s nothing Valyrian on you.”

Words—and deeds—that earned Aemond’s respect and Aegon’s admiration. Today you wish you had better control of your temper, perhaps being more diplomatic, but you’d still stand up for Aegon nonetheless.

“You look thoughtful today”, you hear Aegon telling you. “I think it’s too early for you to join this bloody dinner. You have been just churched, Y/N.”

You smile, letting memories of a distant past fade when Aegon comes at you, holding you from behind as your ladies have just finished dressing you and brushing your long silver locks.

Today you opt to wear your two-sided braided hair and a long, silk green gown which may reinforce your curves. His hands are precisely there as his eyes stare at your reflection in the mirror of your privy quarters.

About a month and half ago, you gave birth to your fifth child—and you’re already the mother of Aegon, Alysanne, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—whom you named Baelor after your grandsire. To the surprise of many, you are not only as fertile as your sisters and mother, but just as strong.

Even though ladies are strongly recommended to avoid events after this period of churching—where they go through the process of getting cleansed carnally and spiritually under the Septs of the Seven—you care very little about such rules, specially when your sire father is about to depart this world—something that gives you mixed feelings.

“I am as good as before”, you turn at him with a smile on your lips. “I may look tired but that is because I had to wake early to feed Baelor.”

Aegon chuckles lightly.

“…all the whilst our dearest Jaehaera was found sneaking under our blanket.”

You laugh heartily.

“She seems to take after you, I’m afraid. Are you ready to put some reins in her, Aegon?”

To which your husband scoffs.

“Please. I’m here to protect and spoil my princesses. Yourself included, dear”, and saying so, he presses a kiss on your cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You spot a glint of mischief behind his eyes; it already makes your intimate parts ache for him. You gently put two fingers over his lips and bite yours when he takes to his mouth, sucking each without parting gazes.

“Mm. Someone’s not been churched enough, I see.”, Aegon teases you, now going to press you against the wall.

“My darling, you best not ruin me for the feast. We are awaited”, you try your best not to give him, but what power do you have when he, taller than you, towers over you and starts to lift the skirt of your gowns…

“Oh there you are!”, you and Aegon almost jump out the moment you hear Helaena’s voice. “Alysanne and I were looking for you!”

Suddenly the seven year old princess with short curly hair and eyes that resemble her parents shows up dressing a gown that is very similar to her aunt’s.

“Papa! Mama! Aunt Laena did my dress, look! I’ve been looking for you in order to show you it!”, she steps up proudly under Helaena’s fond gaze and clapping hands.

You are quickly straightening yourself when Aegon promptly goes to one knee to match his daughter’s height and speak as if nothing was going on before their… sudden arrival.

“You look gorgeous as ever, Alys! Beautiful like your mama!”, he beams at her, before lifting his daughter and holding her tight.

“Weeee!”, Alysanne giggles. “You can still carry me! Look, aunt Laena! Look how strong my papa is!”

Helaena is all smiles at the scene. You join her side, adding a teasing comment:

“It appears your father is still strong, uh? Here I was thinking otherwise.”

Aegon rolls eyes at you, but Alysanne points out her tongue in turn.

“There is none as strong as my papa!”

“That’s my girl!”, he kisses her cheek, spinning her around a little more before downing her at last. “Now, you best go to see your grandsire. Where is Egg? And your twins?”

“Egg has joined Maekar”, she tells him in reference to Helaena and Aemond’s oldest son. “They are insufferable.”

Helaena chuckles lightly.

“Best mates, as they should.”

“As for me… at least I have Rhae to be friends with”, and that being said the princess runs after her cousin, Maekar’s own twin, both born in the same year as Alysanne’s.

“You should be more careful, leaving the door unlocked”, says Helaena, amused.

And she turns before either of you could form a proper answer. You sigh and as you link your arm with Aegon’s, you say:

“She is not wrong, you know.”

“Where can I be faulted if these kids are growing too fast these days”, grumbles Aegon.

You poke his side playfully.

“The joke’s on you for being careless and leaving the door open.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing another kiss on your cheeks before going to the king’s privy quarters where a family reunion is expected.

You are sitting opposite Aemond and Helaena, next to your husband on the left side of the table. You are making sure your children are behaving well at the same time instructing your maids what to do in case they get��bored.

Whilst you do so, Aegon avoids Rhaenyra’s gaze, who sits on the opposite right of the table, with her own offspring. Trying to sweep away the taste of bad blood, he rather focuses in his own children.

The sight of his growing family brings a relief to his wounded pride. For years, longing for something his father and mother lacked in providing, seems to have been filled with your love and these of his children.

When seeing how Egg is looking for him and, once finding his gaze, smiles in search of approval, Aegon forgets his haunted memoirs and gives his boy and heir a positive sign with his thumb up.

It’s how happy Egg is that makes Aegon believe that he’s overcome his broken heart. By how proud his son looks just after being acknowledged by Aegon makes him think that… had only his father done that for years, one small gesture such as this, well… wouldn’t things be different?

Looking now at his daughter, Princess Alysanne. She’s every inch his own and Aegon takes pride in his eldest girl. She is sweet tempered and talkative—oh doesn’t she like to talk? Aegon observes how she and her cousin, Princess Rhaella, engage in some serious conversation which the prince supposes to be about dragons.

He does approve how they are bonding. And when his gaze meets Aemond’s, the eldest of the two realizes this is a better out coming than both of them expected—considering their upbringing. Aemond, of his part, gives a small smirk, considering he is proud too of his children.

And then… there are the twins, of course, and the newly born son who’s not present. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys are not gloomy nor moody, simply the mirror of Aegon’s domestic joy.

This picture of the family he never had that is now his new reality makes him at peace with his parents… even if at times, such as now, he is remembered of everything he didn’t have.

“I would like to make a toast”, says King Viserys, and his voice drags Aegon out of his particular bliss. “My family reunited here. Everyone together as it should, the perfect reflection of how peaceful our realm is.”

All eyes are set on the dying king. The evidence is clear and you cannot help yourself wondering… how all would’ve been different had he acknowledged Aegon’s inheritance. When casting a quick look at your sister Rhaenyra, you realize that she’s never wanted the high prize.

“Mama”, your daughter’s hand pushing your sleeve draws you out of your thoughts.

“What is it, sweetling?”

“Will the dragons die?”

You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring Helaena’s curious gaze at the sight of you two.

“Why would you ask this question?”

Alysanne hesitates, suddenly realizing this may not be the most proper place to speak. But since the music is now playing and the babbling is loud, you encourage her to speak her mind.

“I… I had a nightmare again.”

“With what, my dove? You will claim your dragon, eventually”, you assure her.

“I know I will, but this isn’t it. I am talking about a red dragon being smashed. It looked terrifying to watch.”

Back then, you do not comprehend what red dragon is your daughter speaking of: neither you nor Aegon’s dragons possess red scales. Before you could find a way to assure your daughter this is nothing but a bad dream, a sound takes you out of your thoughts.

“I’d like to make a toast for these… Strong boys.”

Your eyes go wide at Aemond’s bluntness. Helaena is too surprised, and you two share a meaningful, confident look. Both of you take your children out of the dining table, sensing trouble is coming out.

Later, you come back to rush Aegon out of this mess.

“I was handling just well”, he tells you prideful.

Indeed, to your relief he bears no black eye. But by how Rhaenyra looks angry, you know enmity is official.

You hold her stare as you stroke your husband’s face.

“I know. Who could beat you, anyway? You did nothing wrong.”

And by saying that, you kiss his lips, finding home in his embrace.

***

• A Storm Of Iron Blades.

Later that night, there is nothing to occupy your thoughts. With your children asleep and your churching period finally at end, you gladly resume your activities.

And your favorite one is riding your husband, of course.

“Aegon!”, you cry out his name, searching for support against the wall as his hands hold firmly your hips whilst his tongue does wonderfulness in you. “Oh Gods!”

And you move your hips gracefully, smirking at the sight of subduing such a prideful prince, yours to be king.

You arch your back, smirking wide as he slaps your hips, hair now a complete puddle of mess as you come undone.

Your husband drinks every juice you give him, such is his thirst. But domineering he still is as, restless like usual, he flips positions and is now thrusting right into you.

“We are conceiving again”, he whispers against your hot skin, turning you around so your face can be seen. Aegon wraps a hand around your neck all the whilst he pulls your hair the way you like him to.

“One more child?”, you moan loud, burying your nails against his skin as you two move as one.

“I told you we are making this a grand family”, he thrusts harder, pleased to earn a louder moan this time.

Matching his hips with yours, Aegon knows you delegate him control. Every time you come after churching, you settle under him, legs firmly tied around his waist… and when you try to swap, oh snap! He got you there.

“Kiss me!”, you demand him. “Now!”

Aegon gladly complies to your commands, pursuing your lips desperately so. In a crazy demonstration of how your connection works, both of you reach climax at the same time.

As he lies his head at your left breast, Aegon strokes your cheek and says:

“Thank you.”

“What for?”, you ask him surprised.

“For giving me what I was refused: a family.”

You peck his lips, cuddling onto him.

“I love you, Aegon. I hope you know I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.”

As he looks up at him, Aegon knows the veracity of these words. And when he kisses you, the prince fears for them at the same.

Little Egg comes early next morning to get his father’s attention. You realize they are very close, which makes your chest swell with pride. It’s you who welcome your eldest when door opens and you are still breastfeeding baby Baelor, despite Aegon’s protest that you should be doing so in your bed not on your feet.

“Darling! What is it?”, you smile brightly at him.

Despite the nickname, Little Egg is hardly little now. He’s grown quite fast for his age and will most likely to be very tall in his early adulthood. His hair is long now, emulating his father’s.

“I want to see my lord father.”

Thankfully, Aegon has just left his privy quarters when his son’s voice reach him.

“What’s lord for? Father is just fine”, Aegon pulls a grimace at the formality.

Little Egg chuckles.

“My lady grandmother told me I should be mindful of my manners.”

“Who cares about what that old woman says?”, and here he ignores your weak protest at how your mother is addressed. “Come here, won’t you hug me properly?”

As you sit to finish feeding your baby and hold him close, you delight at the scene of Little Egg running to the arms of Aegon, chuckling as he is spinning around before putting down.

“A egg has hatched”, says your brave little boy. “I reclaimed it as mine.”

“Well, of course it’s yours!”, says Aegon, admired. “We put that egg with you since you were born. You slept it tightly with it!”

Little Egg blushes at his remark.

“Well, either way, it’s born! And it’s mine!”

“Fantastic! What’s the name of it?”

“I thought about something to honor your dragon, papa, since it’s golden with details in silver. So I figured to call it Goldenfyre.”

You swear you thought Aegon’d burst into tears. You too think some tears come from your eyes, aware of how important this is to your husband. A moment once stolen in his childhood, but somehow regained to compose his son’s.

“Will you show me Goldenfyre?”, Aegon smiles proudly at his boy.

“Yes”, Little Egg smiles timidly, but you spot pride in his eyes. “And after that I want to show mummy too.”

“Of course my dearest”, you tell him just as delighted.

“I also saved an egg to Baelor”, he tells you proudly when coming at you to earn a motherly kiss you give him.

“That’s my boy. Remember, this is your brother whom you shall always protect.”

Very serious, says your small version of your husband:

“I will not fail in this duty, mother.”

“I know you won’t.”

As you look up, finding Aegon as tearful as you, contentment finds solace in this new home, built over a wrecked one. Perhaps the Gods could be good, after all.

Not everything is about family, however. You need a moment to fly with Dreamfyre again and are about to do so with your youngster one when the Queen comes after you with a grave expression.

“Where is Aegon?”

“Greetings to you too, mother”, you do not mind the disdain in your tongue. “He’s with his son. Something you could have done too if you had the time.”

Alicent looks at her daughter as if she somehow wished you were like Helaena: quieter and serene, even though you are more than aware how your younger sister is also estranged with the Queen. Not that you have been very wayward, you have rarely been at her presence… is all.

Old wounds takes time to heal.

“This is not the moment nor the time to point out my wrongs. I know you will not understand the sacrifices I’ve made for this family, but I need you to summon Aegon.”

“Can you not do this yourself since you have sacrificed so much for us?”

Alicent sighs. At times she finds hard to look at you, and you know that is because you resemble Aegon.

“Your father…”

Now she has your attention. You think wise to give your maid your Baelor.

“Yes?”

What you find in your mother’s eyes knocks your pride down.

“Your father has… departed this world.”

In other words, you know you should be prepared to war. And how strange it is when for the first time in a long while you and the queen find comfort in each other with a hesitant embrace.

Outside, you could hear the lightenings.

***

You are flying Dreamfyre when clouds start to rumble. Your dragon turns her head to give you a look as if she’s sensing your intimate thoughts. Amidst the announce of a storm sun is starting to rise in the horizon and you should go back… but you are reluctant. So she knows where to take you.

To your surprise, though, you find him there. In the very spot where everything began. Has it almost been ten years since you and him professed feelings for each other? It certainly doesn’t feel like it.

“Egg”, you call him affectionately. “I wasn’t expecting to seeing you here.”

Aegon looks distraught, a view that much plagues your heart. You take his side and hold his hand.

“War is coming. She’s not going to accept I am our father’s heir.”

“We can do this”, you tell him firmly. To his surprise, you are determined to go to the end of it. “I know my place, but you must know yours. Father has determined as tradition has that a male heir is to sit upon the iron throne. This happens to be you.”

“I wasn’t prepared for the role”, Aegon admits in one of his rare displays of weakness.

You cup his cheeks with both hands and make him look at you. Aegon finds comfort in you, solace for his insecurities, which you know so well. What’s more is that you never left him.

You stayed.

“Circumstances are better teachers than theories. I can help you with that, though. I am not made of silk or dragon blood”, you flash him a side smirk. “I have a brain sharp as sword.”

“Y/N… I never underestimated you. We…”, and here he whispers. “We both know you’d be a better queen.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your nose against his. Rain starts to fall but you both seem immune to it.

“Shush. I know my place, husband. You will be a great king.”

As if convinced by your arguments, Aegon rests his head against your shoulder, and you rock him gently, stroking his silver locks.

“We are doing this for our children.” He tells you firmly, regaining his composure.

Hands intertwined, eyes locked. Mutual communication.

“My Visenya”, Aegon smiles, besotted.

“My Conqueror”, you beam at him.

And all is sealed with a kiss.

The green council is gathering and in the meantime you spend your time with your sister and your children.

“We must be wary”, whispers Helaena to you.

You cast her a knowing look.

“Can we prevent it to happen?”

“I don’t think so. The crown has a price to pay.”

“I shall do it so”, you tell her firmly.

And then the conversation breaks suddenly.

“Mama”, says Alysanne, running to her side. “Will papa get burnt?”

Never before you detested these dreams your daughter and sister share.

“No”, you assure her firmly, giving a side glance at Helaena, who’s holding her own children protectively. “Nothing bad will happen to him. This I vow.”

To the rest of the day, despite not contenting yourself with embroidery, you settle with the role of mother just fine. But as rain gets heavier outside, you know another will come eventually: that of a wife ready to fight for her husband.

Later that evening, as you watch the children playing with their father and you rock young Baelor against your chest, Aegon tells you the plans of his coronation.

Alysanne and Little Egg are almost fighting over who climbs faster in his father’s shoulders and when he turns at them with that smile you love and says:

“Hey. What did I say?”

“One at time”, grumbles Little Egg. “But I am the heir, therefore…”

“Heir you are, but you must not forget your manners, my son. Ladies first, or has chivalry died?”, and here you try to hide away your amusement.

“Fine. You go, sister.”

Alysanne puts out a tongue, but she too earns a reprehension of her father.

“Now, now, this is not the way, Lys.”

“Sorry”, she puts out a face that makes her irresistibly cute. Aegon chuckles and kisses her temple before putting her over his shoulders. “Weee! I’m flying!”

Aegon makes a noise that you suppose to emulate a dragon’s. The whole scene is adorable and gets your children’s attention. Soon he does the same to everyone—but Baelor, who’s asleep.

“Very well. Your father is tired, he’s done for the night. It’s late and you should be put in bed.”

“Papa”, says Jaehaera, putting his sleeve.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Can you tell us a story before we go to bed?”

“Yes!”, Alysanne runs to her sister’s side and the boys too, despite them pretending to lack interest, which amuses you.

“It’s your day, honey”, you tell him in between giggles. “I’m already occupied here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t want this arduous task. However, he makes sure to get the four children to put in your bed before getting to such a mission.

First, he gets Alysanne and Little Egg under blankets before putting the twins on his knees. Second… he makes sure to get their attention.

“Now listen up. Do you want to hear a story about a dragon princess who saved her dragon prince?”

“Hear! Hear!”, Little Egg cries out. “Ladies and gentlemen, no bard nor storyteller can match our dad!”

Aegon blushes.

“Why thank you for the praise, son. So I guess this is a yes?”

“Of course! There is romance too so we are all very pleased”, says a very romantic Alysanne.

You watch as your husband is set loose to your children. He likes the attention, but more so… he likes being their father.

If we were peasants, we’d be a merrier family.

Sweeping away these melancholic thoughts that make reference to an inevitable upcoming war, you focus on how happy he looks when the burden of wearing a crown is not smashing over him.

How loved he is when surrounded by these innocent toddlers who want to please him—and Aegon is eager to please them too.

You are teary at the scene. Alysanne is watching attentively as her father tells in his own your love story behind a great deal of creativity and fantasy, which makes you chuckle quietly. Jaehaera and her twin brother are not too far behind. These youngsters who like to make your quarters a mess are unusually quiet, captivated by their father’s voice, eyeing him with the most genuine devotion of a children.

Eventually though as the story comes to an end, they are all snoring.

“Well, my king. Our bed is full”, you laugh quietly as you put asleep Baelor carefully in his cradle.

Aegon smiles, moving to where you are and putting you against his arms.

“Thank you for giving me these beautiful children. I cannot believe I am this blessed.”

“How could it be otherwise? Oh Aegon, I love you.”

You spot some tears forming behind his eyes. He clears his throat, still uncomfortable with his own sentiments. Nevertheless he says:

“And I love you, my preciosity. You are my moon and stars.”

“And you are my sun and universe.”

This evening ends well. And you kiss him in turn.

But even sun sets in paradise. You are outdoors with Helaena, two maids and your children when Aemond comes in.

By the looks on his face nothing good is coming. You prepare for the bad news.

“What is it?”

Aemond cannot look at you, but it’s Helaena, who runs to his encounter, who casts a look at you and says:

“War has found its home. We best be prepared to fight it.”

Like a premonition, heavy rain starts to fall. You touch your hip, feeling that dagger you keep hidden underneath your silk gown.

“Well… Let war come. It will end with fire and blood”, you whisper to yourself before going back inside with the toddlers.

***

• A Dragon for A Dragon: The Cause Must Be Avenged.

You are by your husband’s side when the crown is put atop his head and Aegon raises his sword, applauded under the cheerful voices of “Long May Live King Aegon!”

It’s at you he looks for when his smug smirk curls on his lips. You nod approvingly, pride sparkling in your eyes.

Later that day, when council is opened, you are with the children when your husband summoned you. To a general surprise, Aegon wants his wife to be present at his council.

“My lady Y/N is as competent as my brother, Aemond”, he nods at his one-eyed sibling, who gives you a quick, indecipherable gaze. “That is my decision.”

“It is as it is”, says Otto in a dismissive tone. “We need to ponder what to do to counter Rhaenyra’s actions. She’s not inclined to peace.”

“We ought to do what it takes to preserve my crown”, muses Aegon. “Who are our allies?”

Someone starts to list them. You watch Aegon’s reaction, furrowing his eyebrows as he ponders what to do with the information.

“If I may speak”, says Aemond after some babbling dies. “I suggest we take Harrenhal. It’s my understanding the Blacks are heading its way there.”

“We use our dragons before they do. But if they are armed…”, you muse in almost in an inaudible suggestion.

Aegon shoots you a glance.

“Don’t.”

You sigh heavily, but don’t argue.

“I can go.”

“But we need Vhagar”, says Aegon. “Perhaps we can do without a dragon.”

“That is impossible. We are talking about a war of dragons, Your Grace”, says Otto, somewhat impossible. “We must preserve the dragons until we cannot. There’s no need to be in such a hurry. We will come out with a defense tactic.”

“Who’s the one intending to claim Harrenhal?”, you ask suddenly.

Ser Otto gives you a quizzical look, but it’s Aemond who answers you.

“Our uncle, Daemon Targaryen.”

“He’s the right hand of Rhaenyra”, you think out loud, not minding to call her a sister when Helaena does this role a lot better. “What about the other’s?”

“You are not considering getting into this fight, are you?”, to your surprise its Queen Alicent who voices out a general preoccupation.

“Visenya did so, my mother. Whilst I perform my duties accordingly, I shall stand for my husband’s right to wear his crown”, you flash him a smile and are pleased to see him regaining confidence.

“Your loyalty is touching, dear”, says Otto genuinely caring, for you and Helaena are his favourite grandchildren. “However, what military expertise do you have?”

“I am a great dragon rider and I could use this well”, you don’t find prudent to share that you’ve been taking sword lessons for a while. And by the looks Aegon gives you, you know he knows. “I could beat Baela, though.”

“This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about war.”

“War is founded upon vengeance, grandsire”, you speak gently. “Let it be said. A dragon for a dragon, my Aegon shall be avenged.”

That said you recline back to your chair, pleased to leave everyone in the room astonished with this side of yours few—except Aegon, Aemond and Helaena— are familiar with.

“You must stay for the children”, says Aegon. He’s walking from one side to the other, in evident display of nervousness.

It’s just the two of you in the council room this afternoon.

“I cannot handle the possibility of…”

He leaves his fears unspoken and it’s when you walk to where he is and holds his face with your hands.

“We are in this together, whether you like it or not. Your birth right will not be stolen from you. As our children’s…”, you smile at him, fondly. “We will wage this war, but with no need to be cruel.”

Aegon rests his forehead against yours, nodding in an agreement. It’s when he pursuits your lips and you let him lead the way. Suddenly, the kiss evolves and you are gladly lying against the table as he moves over you.

Every issue is kept drowned when the needs of flesh overcomes each. Aegon needs you as much as he needs you. Here comes that boy, starving for affection, that you know.

You gasp as his callous hands run over your thighs, lifting the skirts of your gown as his lips brush against your neck, biting your neck, leaving traces of bruises.

“Aegon”, you moan out his name in response of his eager fingers digging to your core. “Oh Gods!”

His eyes look for yours and when finding yours, your hands hold his hair, pulling him over you.

“My husband”, you gasp, moving your hips against his skillful hands, and soon you take your seat at the edge of the table.

“No”, he groans against your ear when perceiving your intentions. “Just sing out to me…”

But you answer to none—despite gladly obeying him in all when it’s due—so you smirk rebelliously when your hand finds the path to his pants.

“Come here… Let’s do it together”, and you whisper in his ear. “Remember when you taught me?”

Aegon closes his eyes, already unbearably aroused by your words. You bite his earlobe, moaning softly as you speak unspeakable things, caressing his manhood until it pumps against your palm.

“Fuck”, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. “Fuck, Y/Nickname…”

“Yes, baby. Together. We are always together…”

And when he rises his eyes and bites your bottom lip… well, he replaces his hand with something else and it takes little time until you reach climax.

Together.

As it has always been.

“I love you”, you mumble in his ear.

“I love you”, he whispers back.

***

“A king cannot be so until he leads his soldiers”, says Aegon before the council.

To a general astonishment, this is Aegon announcing his preparations to war.

“A king delegates others of his trust for a good reason, Aegon”, your mother snaps at him. “Do not play the reckless…”

“I think it’s funny”, you muse out loud, attracting the council’s gaze—with particular notice to a smirking Aegon, aware of how subtle your temper works, and for which he’s grateful. “How so many of you planned to make the transition to this new reign in a peaceful form, and yet when it is more than clear that war is inevitable… you stop the king to do what’s must. War should have been prevented many moons ago, but this is not the time to live based on “what ifs”. If diplomacy is not the answer…”

You stand, and you swear you detect an approval smirk from Aemond himself.

“…then fire is.”

“May I suggest a fare point that could be turned to our advantage?”, and here Aemond speaks in turn.

“Well, it appears I speak to deaf ears”, grumbles Otto Hightower.

“Listen to Aemond, grandsire. We are not as impulsive as you judge”, you speak softly.

After a moment of silence, the Hand of the king reluctantly lets Aemond speak, of which your brother is thankful for. And you take your seat next to your mother.

What happens next, however, will test the stability of your husband’s cause.

“Baela has been spotted flying near Storm’s End”, you are glancing through the window when you hear Aemond’s whispering to his brother. “She’s sent there in order to bring Baratheons to Rhaenyra’s side.”

“And what do we know about their position?”, inquires Aegon.

As the two men speak, your eyes concentrate at what happens at the yard. Unaware of a grave event that is to mark their father’s reign, Little Egg and Alysanne are playing with Maekar and Rhaella in complete synchrony. You feel a fang of guilt for not spending time with them, but you convince yourself this will pass. After all, you cannot neglect the role of wife. When you told Aegon you’d do anything for him, you meant every word.

“Y/N”, Aegon comes at you, hands resting over your waist. He knows what afflicts you. “When I told you to stay, I’ve meant it.”

He turns you at him, sensing your tears as if he senses his own. You cannot repress all this stress that you’ve been going through. You simply… cannot. And he’s there to hold you, to pick your pieces up.

“You don’t have to be strong the entire time”, he whispers to you, cupping your cheeks and fighting away your fears. “Look at me. I demand it as your king.”

You chuckle lightly, but when you raise your gaze, you know you are the one exposed for the very first time. And Aegon appreciates it.

“This is often the reversed role, is it not? It’s usually me asking for comfort and not the other way around”, and here he wipes the tears off your eyes. “Your unending loyalty to me, regardless of my vices and countless flaws, is a very endearing gift. We have fragilities and they do not make us weak. It makes us… humans, I think. Not a word I think of often, but here’s a brilliant learning you’ve taught me.”

And he proceeds:

“I honestly did not wish our family ripped apart like that, more than aware knowing how a war between kin displeases the deities. But what else can I do? This is not about us, but about our children’s future. I want our five, and hopefully six, toddlers to grow strong and with a prospective future”, he smiles when he manages to get something out of your sadness. “I lament it mostly deep that I’ve brought such misfortune to our family. I wish it was otherwise, that you were proud of me…”

“I am proud of you”, you cut him. “Aegon, I could not look elsewhere and choose someone else to be espoused to. As much as I get along with Aemond, this isn’t the man I love. Who did I come up to this world with? You, Aegon Targaryen. I weep because I want to give you the peace you deserved. I witnessed all these wounds and…”

Aegon swallows his own tears, knowing today you are the one who needs comforts. He comes to realize that, being this stronghold for so long, you too had your own wounds, your own pieces to get.

Oh my darling, Y/N. We are their creatures, are we not?

“You are my sun and stars”, he mumbles. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself, Y/N. We are healing together, won’t we? This is us against the world, my lovely wife.”

Lifting your chin, he presses a soft kiss over your eyes and says:

“You gave me everything I was refused in these years. You gave me love when I had none, you restored me trust when I lacked in; you granted me happiness when I was unworthy it. You make my days a lot better.”

A pause comes where a comfortable silence hangs in between. You rest your forehead against his, breathing in his silence.

“If we came to this world together…”, you whisper secretively.

“…then it is only natural that we leave it together”, Aegon vows it with a smile on his lips.

The decision is done and the pact is made.

***

You see Aegon flying high with Sunfyre and a bad feeling consumes you. Aemond is there too, so he’s going to Vhagar when you stop him.

“Nay”, you tell him firmly. “Leave this to me.”

You are not wearing your court garments, but prepared to go to war. Underneath green and silk, with some adjustments, you are dressing hauberk with two sharp blades carefully guarded. Your long silver hair is tied in a perfectly braid.

“Today we don’t spot Alyssa”, says Otto, concerned about your bold attitude, narrowing his eyes as you mount Dreamfyre and fly high. “But Visenya Targaryen has come to us.”

A remark that would later echo through generations of poets.

What you and Aegon agreed was to inspire soldiers in order to go to local Y/C and there make it a stronghold to his cause. However, spies delivered news that Baela Targaryen is preparing to wage war… with her grandmother, Rhaenys.

Yet, who’s coming is Rhaenys’s red dragon, Meleys. Suddenly you are remembered of your daughter’s dreams and her fear in losing her father.

In order to try to prevent agony making a nest in your heart, in barely gritted teeth you command Dreamfyre to fly above skies—as high as possible without, however, missing Aegon’s position. After that, you promised yourself to fly to Baela’s encounter: there is an unknown bad blood that you find urgent to resolve at last.

In the meantime, though, this isn’t about you, but your king, your lover, your brother, father of your children. This isn’t about a crown, but the legacy of your family—misadjusted they may be, but it’s still the one you are part of.

Grey clouds begin to assemble, but Dreamfyre flies as if it’s in her natural environment. She knows your thoughts and sentiments, she’s prepared to fight even if for a while she hasn’t been part of any of the kind.

But she can fiery.

“Baby girl, be careful. Meleys can be…”

Your words die in your throat when you see fire coming from the old red dragon. Suddenly, Dreamfyre takes a deep dive and gives such a strong bite against Meleys, getting her off guard. Part of the flames may get to you, and you think you hear Aegon screaming your name—you’re fueled with adrenaline, and you cannot stop.

All you know is that, moved by your sentiments, Dreamfyre does drag Meleys down. And it only comes to an end when both rider and creature fall down.

An explosion is heard and felt. You are flying high, Dreamfyre’s sound coming as if echoing your silent mixed feelings. Now adrenaline comes to pass, you realize part of your arm is burnt—and it hurts like hell.

“Are you well, D?”, you ask your dragon, more concerned about her than to your own wounds, in spite of the unspeakable pain.

As if to nod that she is doing perfectly well, Dreamfyre turns her head. It’s when Aegon comes at you.

“My wife!”, and when you turn at him you spot concern in his eyes.

“I told you”, and suddenly weakness comes to shake your senses. “I’d do anything… anything… for…”

And why do words die in your mouth and everything is dark? You have no idea, but you swear that you hear Aegon yelling as your eyes close.

***

• The Aftermath.

In a twist of events, Aegon II refuses to leave your bed until you open your eyes. Nothing can take his mind off you, therefore all matters are placed for now in the hands of Otto Hightower.

Your children have momentarily been put under the care of their aunt Helaena, for so distressed is the king that he cannot fail his children now.

But gods be good and you recover your strength. To your surprise, Aegon is next to your side.

“How… What…”

“My beloved wife”, Aegon smiles warmly when seeing you well and safe, mostly important: alive. “My greatest defensor. Imprudent and reckless, but possessor of the sweetest heart I know.”

He kisses you carefully, as if he’s afraid of losing you.

“What happened? Did we win? How’s Dreamfyre?”

“Calm yourself, love. Rest”, says your husband in most affectionate tone, though firm. “Dreamfyre suffered little damaged in comparison to your broken and burnt right arm and neck. Good grief, woman. It was supposed to be me.”

“No”, you breathe out of relief. “Not you. Never.”

Carefully you lean to his side, not minding the slight pain given just by a slight move. You caress his face, seeing his concern, the fear of losing you… that you risked your life for him, something none has ever done for him…

“I love you”, he whispers like the needy boy he is. “Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

“I love you too, my king”, you brush your lips against his, fingers intertwining together. “We promised to leave this world the same we walked in here, didn’t we?”

Aegon half smiles at you.

Even though the battle is won, the war hasn’t ended yet.

With you regaining your strength, domestic life—where the king’s and yours are concerned—goes back to what it was before your accident.

“Papa, is mama well?”, Jaehaera asks him, eyes tearful.

She’s clinging onto him as he rocks her in his arm. This afternoon you are resting and he’s decided that he needs a break of governing for a moment as well.

Under his watchful gaze, Alysanne is working in her embroidery and Jaehaerys is playing toys with his eldest brother.

“She is resting, my love. But I assure you”, and here he pauses to kiss his daughter’s cheek, earning him a beam that breaks his inner walls, “that she is well. Your mama is as dragon as you.”

“I am a dragon because of her”, Jaehaera corrects him, which makes Aegon chuckle.

Oh aren’t you adorable? How could I father such a pure child? And how… how else does she love me so?

In order to avoid the depth of such thoughts, Aegon limits himself in kissing his daughter’s forehead. Then he drives his fatherly gaze to his offspring.

“What are you seeing there, Alys? Let me see.”

Alysanne is blushing before her father’s attention. Very pompously, she takes her embroidery work so he can take a look.

“Aunt Helaena has taught me how to use the needle properly. I was struggling with the smaller ones”, she admits somewhat shyly so. “So here’s a green dragon. I want to mark in my gown your coat of arms, papa.”

Aegon swallows before the sight of his daughter, whose eyes show an eagerness to please him—a feeling he knows so well, but unlike Alysanne’s case, he was never corresponded. Precisely why the king beams and says:

“I am very proud of your skills, Alys. I am unworthy of such an honor”, says he with a wide smile.

In this sacred moment with his daughters so close, Aegon doesn’t see you come by. You are leaning against the wall, pleased to find your family in complete harmony.

Your boys, getting along… Jaehaerys trying to impress a very serious Little Aegon in his building, earning an eventual smile of his older brother’s approval. All the whilst Jaehaera sleeps in her father’s lap and Jaehaera is blushing pleasantly at the praises she receives him.

It makes you think of your own scars. How many times you tried to please your father and all you got was dismissive waves, distant conversations and comparisons to Rhaenyra?

Containing a sigh, you know how all of this is nothing to what you have now, but it’s pointless to deny these scars. They make you who you are, as it’s Aegon’s case.

Both of you are everything your parents were not. When Aegon looks at you with a smile on his lips, you smile too because you know you succeeded at it.

Despite the gleeful scenarios, war is still going. You are barely recovered when there are news of Baela flying to take y/c, a very important spot for the cause she defends.

You are listening to the Green Council’s strategies when you find Aemond and Aegon’s gaze on you. You lower yourself, but you know why they are concerned about you.

When defending Aemond so many moons ago, it was Baela who hit you hard. Even though you managed to knock her down, your fury was such that left the boys open mouthed by then.

A grudge that you were never able to overcome. A wound that time didn’t heal.

But the opportunity comes just fine.

“I can patrol skies”, you announce casually.

“I forbid you, Y/N”, Aegon is the first to protest. “There is no need to…”

“Y/C stays close to King’s Landing”, you muse, trying to remain calm.

“She’s not daring to come nearby when Vhagar is here”, interferes Aemond.

Both of you exchange looks. You bite down your lips, saying no more. However… opportunity to fight for your husband is coming once more, and yet at what cost?

Days go by when it’s decided that Aemond shall take Harrenhal on behalf of the Crown. This comes after Rhaenyra suffers another blow: her son Jacaerys was defeated once for all in an encounter against Aegon himself.

“I’m proud of you”, you smile the brightest as you two parade at the capital. “A great victor, that you are!”

Aegon flushes at your compliments. This day you and him ride splendid horses before all, richly dressed in order to reinforce signs that the civil war is coming to an end.

“As I am”, he takes your hand to his lips, not minding the courtly rules where public display of affection is concerned. “My greatest defensor. I am nothing without you, Y/N.”

Despite taking pride in this acknowledgment, you play the humble.

“My king, this is untrue. I only do what I am asked of: to daily submit my will to yours, to provide you heirs, to pledge for the safety of our subjects during this rebellion”, you smile at him for, despite the embellishment of your words, you speak such with your heart.

“My queen, blessed by the divine with the utmost caring for this one who gives you word; your unending loyalty and wisdom beyond your years played a great part in the conduct of the affairs of this realm. Whether I wage wars, whether I bring peace to our subjects it is in you and in the beautiful children you provided me that I think of.”

In silence, when he squeezes your hand and nods at you, you know what he means. And as you smile timidly and play the humble queen, he knows what you speak too.

In your own ways, underneath this public exhibition, one tells the other:

I love you.

‘Tis enough to make the people rejoice and praise for the health of King Aegon the Wise and Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen.

***

• Epilogue.

War had its costs. But it eventually came to an end. Upon its twilight, revenge bled two broken houses of one dynasty for the last time. Aegon met his sister, Rhaenyra, just after you defeated Baela at the Battle of Stormlands, which would later be sang by bards how ‘two damsels, misled by the ambitions of men, took their dragons to a deadly feast and thus they danced’ until ‘the lady Baena was stabbed in the heart by a very bold move of Queen Y/N’.

Some of superstitious folks believed to have seen in you the ghost of Queen Visenya.

You brought a victory to your cause, but got yourself a broken arm. Dreamfyre was hurt too, but not injured enough to impede her to fly with you over the lands of the Baratheons, who welcomed you.

In the meantime this happened, Daemon Targaryen was defeated and Aemond conquered it all. Daemon’s lover, the witch queen of the place, Alys Rivers, attempted to transfer her affections to his nephew—unsuccessfully so. It was rumored that he said the following words:

“Mine heart knoweth no lady that is not mine damsel, Helaena.”

What was her destiny after these words were professed? The chroniclers could not tell. She vanished and many attributed to Lord Aemond her death.

Whatever the truth, Lady Helaena and her offspring moved with Silverwing to meet her husband, ignoring his orders that she should not do so until he sent for her. Apparently she knew what the outcome was going to be.

As for the battle between Rhaenyra and her brother for the throne, Rhaenyra was defeated. However, it was you who interfered on behalf of the kingdom to impede her death.

An agreement was arranged: Rhaenyra, albeit reluctantly, renounced her rights to the throne and agreed to wed her sons to you and Aegon’s daughters, as well as to wed her daughters to your sons. Peace was finally sealed and she was left to live in Dragonstone.

Once reunited, in the present day this feud is now a page in history. You are enjoying better days, ruling behind the scenes as Aegon conducts the realm with a wit that surprised most.

“He is a good king”, you tell your mother in a day where, to a general surprise, Aegon brokered a peace treaty with the Dornish. “Why it surprises you goes beyond my comprehension.”

Today you are dressing a long green, silk gown with reinforces your curves; your silver locks are carefully braided under a hair net that reminds Alicent of the days the dowager queen used to wear it herself. Besides the ravishing look, you wear the jewels Aegon recently gifted you: a pair of emerald earrings and a gold necklace.

“He was hardly the most devoted to studies, is all”, so your mother tells you.

It is a curious contrast how, after many years, you and her found a way to overcome parental issues. But even now, you find difficult to accept some of the critics she at times weaves to her eldest boy.

“Please, it was only lack of proper encouragement”, you roll your eyes as a response.

“I see I cannot make a comment about my son when I’m with you. Let us change topics”, and here she smiles. “I heard you are carrying another child.”

“Well, what can I say? Aegon makes it difficult not to engage in marital affairs”, you giggle maliciously.

Upon which Queen Alicent scoffs, feigning offense.

“To hear these words from the Good Queen Y/N?!”

“Why, I am not complaining. Pretty much otherwise.”

In between chuckles, you move to the gardens where the dowager queen finds all her grandchildren playing together.

Aemond, recently acknowledged as Hand of the King, is talking to Aegon, probably something about the affairs of the realm—judging by their serious countenance. But the one eyed prince is also attentive to his wife, Helaena, who’s teaching the now ten year old Alysanne to improve the girl’s skills, joined by their daughter Rhaella, same age as her cousin. As well as how Maekar and Little Egg—as Aegon’s heir will be always known—are talking nonsenses of their age.

The little ones are not too far behind. Aegon is holding three year old Baelor as he talks to his brother, but is in a position where he can watch over the young toddlers. It does not go unnoticed by all how Jaehaera tries to be friends with another Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, who was sent with Viserys to be educated at court. Aegon doesn’t look very pleased, but young Viserys is too busy playing with cousins Jaehaerys and Aerys.

When seeing you with their mother coming at the happy meeting, Aegon soon excuses himself to greet you.

“My mother”, he pays the due respects to Queen Alicent, and then doing the same to you. “My lovely wife.”

“Aegon my darling”, and here you pick the chubby baby out of his arms. “Baelor, did you miss mama? Or were you too spoiled by daddy?”

Aegon gives you a smug grin.

“Well, isn’t this why I’m their father in the first place?”

“Not to overindulge, my love.” But not even you believe in what you are saying.

Soon, Helaena and Aemond join the three of you.

“Together at last”, and not to a general surprise Helaena greets you with a warm smile and her own way in showing her affection to you.

“Greetings to you too, my dearest. I was having a moment with our mother. She has some news to share”, you flash the dowager queen a mischievous smirk, pleased to find her blushing.

“Oh…”

“Shh, don’t ruin the surprise.”

To which Aemond confides a whisper to Aegon:

“As if it’s a surprise to know what she’s yet to tell.”

“It did take more years than we’ve judged”, the elder of the two agrees, struggling to muffle a chuckle.

“Well, I was worried… due to the recent events that concerned us all, that…” the Queen doesn’t really know how to put it.

But Helaena makes it easy for all of you.

“If you are happy, then we are happy for you.”

“You deserve it, mother”, you echo your sister’s support.

“But I…”

“Do not protest. We’ve always seen Ser Criston as the father we didn’t have”, says Aegon.

“He did indeed raise us, though”, so Aemond points the obvious.

“I appreciate your support. Then I think we should invite Ser Criston to join us.”

“Later, perhaps”, says Aegon, mirroring that old mischievous spirit that characterized his youth. “I need a moment with my wife and my children if you excuse me.”

“Oh yes, the family man”, teases Aemond discreetly before getting a punch in his arm.

This afternoon, all parts well and in restored peace as it should have been the way it started long time ago.

***

Aegon has just flew with Sunfyre and Little Egg with his own dragon. It’s a good time to do so and represents a unique moment between father and son.

When looking at this growing boy, who’s about to rise to Prince of Dragonstone in due time, Aegon struggles to see he’s no longer that toddler easily impressed with Sunfyre and his first time flying high.

“You are looking at me in a funny way”, says his son as they land and go back to their quarters. “Do you have news to share? Or is it the way I conduct…?”

“No, no. Not at all”, and here he pulls Egg under his arm, ruffling his hair and pleased to get him some chuckles. “I was just noticing that you are growing to a fine man and I am not ready to let that go yet.”

“You sound like mom”, and so typically he pulls a grimace.

“Your mother loves you as much as I do. One day you’ll have children of your own and you’ll see what I mean. As for news, did I tell you that your grandmother secretly remarried and believed no one would suspect she did so?”

The fourteen year old boy laughed loud. A sound that somehow is almost equal to his. Aemond smiles.

“No! I cannot believe my ears! Was she espoused by Ser Criston? But that man…”

“Shush. He’s your grandsire now.”

But the idea brings the two to joint laughters.

Aegon is all smiles when he’s with his girls too. After spending a while hearing Jaehaerys’s proudly progress in his studies, a deed that does impress him, he’s doting on his princesses too. You are already pompously dressed for the dinner when you find your husband hearing Jaehaera’s recent claimant in her dragon which she named Moonfyre because of the curious mix of silver and red scales.

A deed that did impress her elder sister and father.

“I know we have a great bond”, says the seven year old excitedly. “But…”

“But you are likely the youngest of our dynasty to have ridden a dragon! And all by yourself!”, and here Aegon cannot help himself and fuss over Jaehaera, who blushes pleasantly. “My little girl is getting me some headache in the future, I can already foresee it!”

“Well, she has so much of her father to be blamed on it”, you smile at him.

What a scene. Aegon joins you, not the king circumstances made him, but the grown man you loved since you could remember. When he tangles you in his arms and doesn’t mind being affective to you—“uuuuuugh” would tease the boys and even Jaehaera makes a grimace—, you know those wounds took time to heal.

Love prevailed over all.

As you’ve always believed it.

King Aegon II and his Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen were found dead in an embrace that would be turned into marble. Theirs is one of the longest reign, despite the early years of civil war.

Aegon II is succeeded to his eldest son, Aegon III, married to Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. Aegon’s Hand was his long time loyal cousin, Maekar, who wedded his sister Rhaella.

No more turmoils to be seen… for a long while. Dragons did die, as foreseen by Alysanne, who became Princess of Dorne in due time, but they also survived and prospered.

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suugarbabe · 9 months ago

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mattheo riddle | lore

first and foremost Mattheo is the heir to the Dark Lord

making his father the one and only Voldemort, Tom Riddle Jr., Voldy if you will

Mattheo's mother is Bellatrix Lestrange (which is what makes him the cousin of Draco Malfoy; Bellatrix and Narcissa being sisters)

unsurprisingly, growing up with the Dark Lord as your father doesn't make for the greatest of childhoods

Mattheo was tasked with challenges to prove his loyalty and worth to his father's cause at a young age

every failed task came with punishment, some mental some physical

often he was subjected to the cruciatus curse as punishment

other times were simple curses or jinxes to cause humiliation or pain

one of the most easy to see is the scar left over his eye and through his eyebrow

his home (if you could call it that) often felt cold and deserted despite the family living there

Mattheo would spend as much time as possible at the Malfoy's

while that doesn't seem like that better of an option, to Mattheo it was his saving grace

Narcissa showed Mattheo the love her sister seemed so void of

because of this Mattheo and Draco's bond and relationship became more like brothers

Mattheo became proficient in the majority of the dark arts before the age of 12, much to his father's delight and Mattheo's despise

however, with subtle guidance from his Aunt Cissy, Mattheo formed his own thoughts and opinions about blood purity and 'how things should be in the wizarding world'

Mattheo was often feared by other children growing up

both because of his namesake and also his general demeanor

this caused him to find making friends extremely difficult

however the other Slytherin boys knew him growing up and therefore formed a bond with him early on

while he's not one to be sappy, Mattheo is grateful for their loyalty

Mattheo's childhood environment caused him to become incredibly observant

always able to keep a watchful eye of the entire room he's in

this comes from previously keeping an eye out for his father or his most loyal disciples.

while Mattheo often displays as closed off or cold, in reality he's only being protective of himself

because what else would you learn while growing up with the Dark Lord?

#mattheo riddle lore #mattheo riddle headcannons #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys lore #slytherin boys

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writingwenches · 3 months ago

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Princess Aemma Velaryon

summary: The first child of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, born not long after her marriage to Lord Laenor Velaryon. An unknown dragon dreamer, the girl experiences all the horrors inflicted on the world by Old Valyria while she sleeps, while during waking hours prays for the forgiveness of the Seven. She dreams of becoming the perfect mother, something her mother most certainly is not. She worships the ground Queen Alicent walks on. She is filled with dragonfire and rage.

themes: tried to think up a version of a Rhaenyra's Team Green daughter OC and she slowly warped into Rhaenyra's worst nightmare and my new fav. Part of my HOTD fanfic universe.

warnings: religious nonsense, eternal damnation, sexism

Part One of Unknown // ~5k word count

On the day of her birth, King Viserys was the first to speak her name, as a gift to the woman he loved. He had informed his small council when the news of a healthy female babe came to them, that the babe was to be called Princess Aemma Targaryen.

Queen Alicent, debilitated from her labors, spent the days following the birth with her mind controlled by milk of the poppy. Her seventeenth nameday came and went. She couldn’t be sure, as her mind frolicked with the dancers painted on her chamber walls, but Alicent did not recall the kitchens preparing her traditional cinnamon cake to mark the celebration.

Queen Alicent first heard the babe’s name from her father, the Hand of the King. And right then, her recovery ended.

Princess Helaena Targaryen was announced at court that every afternoon, with the king’s approval or presence.

It was not long after that Princess Rhaenyra was in need of a name for her own healthy baby girl, and Aemma seemed fitting.

Princess Aemma Velaryon was born the Realm’s Delight. Aemma was perfection personified from the moment she was born, two moons early, but weighing more than any of the king’s children. Her skin was healthy, but would not be described as dark. Disregarding the Maester’s astrological based predictions of the birth, it was foretold that the babe would be of sturdy health, and as a babe her favorite thing to do was scream.

It was not something she would grow out of.

Aemma Valyrian was born at the onset of winter, and the Maesters predicted her ill temper would cool once the springs come again. Just as they had vastly miscalculated the child’s birth, they predicted incorrectly.

The babe would fight sleep, and be calmed by nothing. Additional nursemaids were hired, as the babe was taken away from those tasked with looking after the Queen’s newly born second son.

Princess Rhaenyra swore off ever birthing a babe again, after nights and nights of sleepless waiting. Leanor had honored her with his help, bearing the burden of misery at her side. Queen Alicent could barely speak with her childhood friend without biting words and curses cast in her direction.

Eventually, Rhaenyra allowed the Queen to take the babe, to allow herself much needed sleep. Helaena helped calm the babe, Alicent found, the year older child fascinated with the new sounds. Aemma could find sleep, tucked aside her aunt Helaena.

At least for a while.

Helaena did not mind standing in the shadow cast by Aemma all her life, honestly she preferred it. It kept her well shaded from the brightness of the court’s stares.

Even though Helaena was older, Aemma was the leader, even of their nursemaids. It was not long before Helaena’s gate slowed as she allowed Aemma to to lead herself away. She had no use for Helaena, not really, Helaena was not good at sitting motionless in the Sept, or picking apart her every action to find her central flaw that needs solving. Helaena just wanted to be. Aemma wanted to be superior.

The princess’s hair was her greatest treasure. Pale white, with flecks of silver under the sun, she had grown down to her hips, and she wore it unbraided. Each night, requiring two maids to brush it to her satisfaction. She did not appreciate inefficiency, only inspecting after twenty additional brush strokes.

Gifts from her grandsire birthed her collection the man was a sailor that traveled the world, something that Aemma had interest of doing herself, but applauded the man for his great bravery. The elder captain enjoyed Aemma’s excitement with every exotic trinket he returned with, as his wife and daughter had grown tiered of his treasures and absence.

Her favorite treasures were the princess’s vast collection of combs and brushes from around the known world. She had comb made of a single jewel from the mines of Casterly Rock, a comb of pure frozen fire from the markets of Asshai, the small folk call it dragon glass, and her most prized possession, a brush that is said to be made of hair and human bone from north of the Wall.

Every night she would pick her two tools, one for each maid, as a sort of prayer for the next days blessings. Her mother hadn’t ever understood her obsessions.

Her mother never understood anything.

Aemma screamed. Rhaenyra screamed back. A chair is thrown from her balcony and Queen Alicent enters the young girl’s room without introduction. Aemma cried and threw herself at the Queen’s mercy.

“I simply suggested,” Rhaenyra started, “that we visit the dragon pit so that we might––“

“You wish to sabotage any chance I have of ever finding a husband!” Aemma’s words bit like the heat of dragon fire grazing skin. “No man shall have me if I stink of dragon!”

Aemma’s tear stained eyes fell on Helaena, hiding behind her mother’s skirts. Her eyes hardened at the sight of her niece, Helaena’s clothes were plain and made of leather. The King’s first born grandchild looked at the King’s second born daughter like she was some disgusting creature, covering herself in the dried skins of dead animals, like a true monster.

“…just like you.” Aemma bit her words at Helaena, the unwanted woman that smells of sulfur that no man had any use for.

Helaena did not mind Aemma’s words, for she knew the root of them. Helaena had been present when Aemma proposed marriage to Aegon, the first time.

Aemma upon the siblings breaking their fast one morning, she had not yet reached ten. She informed Aegon that he would need to start attending her daily prayers in the Sept, to cleanse his mind in preparation for their eventual wedding.

Aegon did not bother to finish swallowing his meal before he responded, “I would marry Helaena before I would ever marry you,” he laughed, juices falling from his open mouth. He would not marry Helaena either, but he had paid enough attention in the training yard to know the most efficient place to strike.

Aemma saw to it that the rest of Aegon’s meal ended up in the dirt. She made sure to break the newly turned teen’s favorite cup.

Aemond would sometimes hear Aemma’s screams marking another spat with her mother from the training yard. Aemond had not expected to see his niece, there, in the flesh, she tended to avoid the entire side of the keep, complaining of the smell.

Aemma’s hand wrapped itself around Aemond’s wooden sword, mid strike. Ser Criston’s feet left the pit in freight at the sight of the young girl. She was the disgusting bastard snake, the proof of all his failures. With every glance at her pale lavender eyes, he questions if he should not have ended himself that night instead of…

“Uncle, you shall be my husband, prepare yourself,” she released his weapon back to him.

“Oh–“ was the only sound that left the child’s mouth, allowing the heavy sword to fall into the earth, his eyes passed to his teacher, Ser Criston, hoping he would speak up to inform her that she was mistaken.

“That is, of course,” Aemma’s hand’s folded sweetly, as her silver hair cascaded to the floor, wrapping her in its aura. She bowed politely, lowering her head ever so gently.

Aemond watched her efficiency of her actions, every motion pointed and proven to get the reaction she desired. How Aemond longed to play the strings of others with the ease that she managed to. He supposed their children would grow strong, and she did not have the look of a bastard that marked her brothers. Still, he did not like the idea of more unity with that family.

“That is only because I can not possible marry you, Ser Criston,” she mused. “For how I do wish to,” Aemma sighed into the fantasy of a picturesque life as the lady wife of a proper knight. Aemond could feel the sun from her words.

Criston looked away.

High Valyrian was out of the question for Aemma, why speak the language of a civilization not competent enough to remain living amongst some ‘falling volcanic ash’, She believed that the gods only act their vengeance on those who deserve his wrath. If one never sins, one will always be kept in the favor of the gods.

Her mother spoke blasphemous contradictions, always downplaying the gods judgement.

“We of Old Valyrian were only saved from Doom by the grace of the Seven,” Aemma’s hands rose in praise, “and we must honor them in the way that they demand.” Her daily trips to the Great Sept surpassed that of the most pious at court.

At the mere suggestion, from Rhaenyra, for Aemma to spent time away from her constant, quiet, contemplation, the young princess would drop to her knees while loudly begging the gods forgiveness of her mother’s trespass. Her hands rose to the ceiling, her calls shouted to their exhalation, to cover the heretical words of her mother.

Rhaenyra eventually gave up, and allowed the girl to do as she pleased. Aemma’s eyes were shut closed for her endless prayers before meals, her calls were loud enough to cover the rest of them picking at their plates.

“May my every action be guided by your grace, and let me praise your name with all my actions.”

Sometimes, Rhaenyra thought her daughter was doing these things simply to irritate her mother. Laenor, her father, thought she was simply fascinating.

Aemma believed in eternal damnation, neither her parents knew where the thought had stemmed from. She was still a child, in her nursery room, when she told of dreams from the eternal burn of dragon fire that awaits those that displease the gods. Not even the Septas could talk the girl from her heading. She viewed her life as a test, and she would not allow herself to fail it.

There was a world, that Aemma visited in her sleep. For as long as she could hold memory, she could feel herself falling and slipping and drowning into the darkness of slumber and awaking somewhere far, far away. It was a place where gods ruled the sky, and those who tamed them ruled the world.

The towers of the city spiraled up past the clouds, towards the sun.

That was not where Aemma would find herself. She would land hard, by the skin of her knees, against the broken stone of the iron mines, deep below magma bellowing flames. It was hot, too hot, too hot to breath. The air was thick with metal dust and human wails. She would know she was alone, her family slain long ago in a place that no longer existed, turn to ash and salt by the gods as punishment for her trespasses.

It was too hot. And the wailing. Aemma was forced to her feet and made to continue, her small hands wrapping around the broken rocks and shuffling them away with the other tiny hands that worked the floors of the mine. Iron, they called it, it was precious and wanted by the gods to make more tools, to dig deeper into the mines. Her hands burned at every new touch of rock, the gloves covering her hands were not enough, never enough. Her feet and knees were blistered and burned, she could not even remove her sandals, as the flames merged them into her skin. She breathed in toxic fumes and smelled of brimstone and bile.

With every new crack of rock, with every clash of metal came the ending. The vile ending of choking on airless voids, of molten steam breaking free and burning and melting, of the rumble of a wyrm, picking her off for wondering too far down the darkness.

Every night she dreamed, Aemma suffered and died in the mines of Old Valyria, suffering the wrath of her people’s empire, though she did not know it. She was a child, and the child only saw death and destruction and fire.

In her waking hours, the Septas read the young princesses tales of the Seven, and their constant fight for moral righteousness. It was what gave the Reach their fine knights and perfect ladies, just like the Queen.

Aemma knew what it meant to be virtuous, it was able to be taught. And from her dreams, she knew what happened to those who were wicked. Eternal fire and blood and damnation.

Aemma had always enjoyed the silence of the Sept, as soon as she was old enough to enjoy it. She could breath amongst the endless quiet flames, they all breathed together as they marked the ones lost to the past. It was a peaceful place, the Septas silent pondering and whispered prayers brought her calm. It was the only thing that did, the promise of a just reward and eternal peace for living and just and pious life.

She was given a heading at a young age, that she could know true peace if she followed the path before her. She was determined to reach her destination.

Of course, Princess Aemma Targaryen was not going to become a dirty, old, Septa, she was born with a grander purpose. She knew she was to be a mother from her playing with dolls. She knew she was to be a great mother one day.

Something that she knew her own mother was not.

As the princess aged, her dreams changed, mirroring the souls that called to her from across the Narrow Sea. One such dream of odd sensations and things she could not understand, coincided with lessons putting the upmost importance on a future bride’s chastity.

Her mother was displeased when she refused to remove her shift before climbing in the bath.

“Aemma, sweetling, I do not think this is what the Septas meant–“ Rhaenyra tried to remain calm for her daughter’s sake.

“I am responsible for protecting my chastity mother! What if–“ the young girl gestured around the room, filled with her brothers and their nursemaids.

It was wrong, but Rhaenyra could not stifle a laugh. “They are infants, and I am your mother!” she argued, “These woman have been taking care of you since you were a babe, we all love you so–“

“Love will not protect me,” was Aemma’s final answer. The girl bathed in her thin cotton shift, to protect her modesty, even from herself.

Rhaenyra was fraught. Queen Alicent thought the behavior odd, but seemingly harmless. Once becoming Queen, Alicent’s own staff grew seven fold, she had not been used to bathing in a room filled with people without Rhaenyra in their youth. Alicent too longed for the days were she could bath in peace.

“Perhaps, she simply wishes to be alone?” the Queen offered, her back straight as she sipped her mid-morning tea. “She is growing, she might find the boys…an annoyance?”

Rhaenyra shook her head, slouched into a cushion, one of her feet propped up on the chair beside her. “But, what if we’re missing something?”

Alicent let out a sigh, she knew when her childhood friend wanted to talk freely, to work through an idea that plagued her in such a way she could not be swayed. “What do you mean?” Alicent asked, after picking a particularly beautiful (and large) cake from the tea offerings, it was covered with berries and cream.

Rhaenyra leaned herself forward, with the look in her eye when recounting ancient war strategies, “Laenor, once, told the children a favorite war story of his and both Aemma and Jace were frightened for days, so never again. But, that was years ago, and Jace does not even remember it ever happened.” Rhaenyra said. “I have spoken with her Septas, about what they could possibly be teaching those girls. It’s all falderal and men exchanging dutiful wives and stories about how rain once covered the entire earth.”

The Queen attempted to allow her words to flow past like a gentle steam, Rhaenyra had always had a contempt for the teachings of the Seven, and Alicent had agreed to the tea in good faith. Alicent was a woman in control of herself, and would not leave the table over a slight so simple, no matter how much she wished to.

“Well, it is not all,” Alicent began, “as you say, falderal. Many of the stories are great examples of honor and responsibility…” Alicent could tell that Rhaenyra was losing interest in her speaking, “And perhaps, a daughter wanting to protect her own innocent is not the worst thing to be faced with.”

Alicent sipped her tea while the two shared a silent look.

“Helaena is similar, I must admit,” Alicent changed the subject. “I find she prefers not to be touched. I thought it was by my own failing, but she seems to not wish it from anyone.” Alicent shrugged. “Perhaps, she too wants to take control of her own innocence and chastity? There is nothing wrong with that.”

“But, what if there is something wrong?”

“You worry too much,” Alicent offered something small, a hand reaching across the table.

“I never imagined having a daughter would be so tiring,” Rhaenyra laughed, not taking Alicent hand but offering a smile at the gesture.

“Well!” a new voice entered the room. “Isn’t that a sentiment I have been waiting to hear all my life!” Viserys entered the room with his cane first, Rhaenyra noticed a new missing tooth amongst his smile.

“You would make your mother proud,” the King offered, his daughter taking his hand.

Alicent swallowed, a deep breath, and then joined the smile herself. “Yes, step-daughter, Aemma is in good hands, with us all.”

Outside of the castle walls, Aemma Valyrian was the Realm’s Delight. Since a young age, the little girl would wave towards the crowds on her daily trip to the Great Sept. She carried flowers to gift other children during the springs, and bread to offering during the winters. Helaena joined along, but preferred the serenity of the wheelhouse over the roar of a crowd.

Helaena’s eyes were always elsewhere, the skies, the dirts, her own mind. Aemma refused to enter the dragon pit, so Helaena was rarely afforded the opportunity. Aemma complained the smell made her sick, and would heave until they either left or she became sick and they were both taken back to the palace, where Aemma would spend endless hours pampering her hair.

Before Aemma was even old enough to understand, she could read it on the faces of those at court, there was something wrong. The Queen had never spoken ill of her mother in her presence, but Aemma suspected she had always just finished speaking before the young girl was close enough to hear.

Aemma devoured every drop of information she could find from those around court. Queen Alicent had packed the halls with any second born noble that wished a chance at the presence of power. They all had something to say. Aemma had learned to hide around corners and disappear into shadows in order to hear.

She learned and she knew.

And in the aftermath of the birth of her brother Joffrey, Aemma was ready to strike.

“Oh, so now you care about who I am to marry!” Aemma spoke as if she were a woman grown, as Rhaenyra had thought since she was first born. “You speak to the Queen about wedding me to Aegon after he had already refused me!”

Rhaenyra was taken aback. “You have asked him? Aemma you are a child! You–“

“And I would never have such a leacher as my betrothed! Aemond has already agreed–“

“Aemond?” Rhaenyra’s head was spinning at the information coming. “Fine, fine,” she finally relented. “Either way, we are returning to Dragonstone, we have–“

“You shall to whatever you like, I shall be remaining with my betrothed, as we are to be married!”

“Aemma, my sweet, you are still a child! You shall marry, but for now we are going home–“

“THIS IS MY HOME!”

...the tableware shook at the ferocity of her words, along with goblet she threw.

Rhaenyra did not like when her daughter stopped speaking, for she had no way of knowing what was going on in her mind. She watched as a smile stitched itself across Aemma’s mouth. Rhaenyra never wanted to speak ill of her precious child, but the girl’s teeth were too large for her mouth, it created a smile stretching across her cheeks like a jackal.

“If you make me go, I shall tell everyone,” Aemma spoke softly, pulling the air out of the room.

“Tell them what?” Rhaenyra tried to keep her breathing stilled.

“I shall tell them about father,” her smile only grew.

Rhaenyra’s breathing halted.

“He’s….he’s…a buggerer of men! I have seen it with my own eyes, the King’s nameday last, as he was tending to those Bracken horses, and you’re protecting him!” Aemma enjoyed being right, it was simply the only way to be. “How could you ever lie with a man like that?” she asked, disgusted. “But, I supposed. You did not lie for him long.”

Aemma’s eyes wondered to the dark haired babe asleep in his cradle.

“I suppose, I should thank you, Mother. You managed to at least produce one heir,” Aemma’s spoke what she had never spoke before.

“Heir?” Rhaenyra’s forced a laugh, “You have always been content with your brother, Jacerys, taking on the mantle after me.”

“You dare suggest someone like him sitting the iron throne?”

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but laugh, for the girl knew not what she spoke. It would only take a few words to cut the girl down, drown out every candied dream that filled her stupid head. “You wish to rule?” the heir-to-the-throne asked.

Aemma’s words were spitting, hissing venom at her birther, “There is no Queen amongst the Seven! I wish to honor The Mother, and to fulfill the only purpose for which I was brought down from the stars! I pray to the Crone to guide me to the path of fruitfulness and to The Maiden to protect by virtue from peoples like YOU.”

Food and plates and chairs and jewels flew through the room, leaving a path of destruction matching a dragon in a herding pasture.

“Fine! Remain here, be the ward of the Queen, for she is the mother you have always wanted!” Rhaenyra gave in, and left the girl to her own devices.

Queen Alicent had not been prepared to see Aemma breaking her fast the next morning. “Aemma! What are you–” she exclaimed, the girl had been seated alone in the large room used for family meals, always the first to arrive.

“Mother left me here,” Aemma sighed into the words, sipping her morning tea.

The Queen made a sound showing that she had heard the young girl’s words. She had heard of the aftermath left behind in Rhaenyra’s chambers, and Alicent was sure she now found the cause.

“You are to…?” Alicent sat near the child. In all of the Queen’s dreams of Rhaenyra taking her spawn and fleeing, she had never imagined one staying behind. Though, she now knew it had always been the only possibility.

“I am to remain here as your ward, my queen!” Aemma threw back her chair, and supplicated herself before the queen. “Allow me to learn from you! You, a true virtuous and pious woman. You are the portrait of The Mother, who I shall model my every action to glorify her name."

Alicent had seen this look before. The eyes glazing over, looking past and through. The same way those worshippers looked at the dragons of Old Valyria, the reverence in the presence of a god. Alicent was Aemma’s god.

“I shall be faithful to you, as my lord paramount, you shall guide my every action and I shall become whatever it is that you want me to be so that I can avoid the endless firey pits of damnation that awaits all those sinners that I shall seen––“

“Enough! Enough, that’s enough, dear,” Alicent hushed her, shaking her out of whatever trace had taken over. “It is fine, you may stay. Just, please no more–”

“Um! What is she doing here?” Aegon was never up this early, and all the thanks he received was being greeted by the Realm’s Annoyance. “Why can’t she go back to Dragonstone with the b–”

“Aegon!” the queen hissed.

Neither Aemond or Helaena were excited to see her that morning, but it was clear she would need to be removed from the castle in chains, if at all.

Aemond supposed having a betrothed was fine. He had known from birth that his marriage was to be arranged, and that he supposed he was prepared to do whatever duty the crown demanded but, this felt different.

He had not spent much time imagining what his future bride would look like, but the time he had, his mind wondered to that of Cinda Lannister, his mother’s closest lady. When she peppered his face with kisses, it wasn’t wet and revealing like some of the older women of court. Her hugs were warm and long, and he was almost tall enough to be face height with her chest.

Aemma always had ill words to say about Cinda’s wardrobe, always finding something despisable about how she showed her body, complaining about the slightly elder Lannister’s overly exposed skin. Aemond was not sure if they were always speaking of the same dresses, for Aemond could always imagine Cinda in more scandalous clothing.

“You aren’t thinking about Cinda Lannister’s breasts, are you?” Aemma gasped, as she caught his mind drifting off in the wheelhouse ride to the Sept.

Aemond could feel every drop of blood rushing to the tips of his ears, it was almost painful. “No!” he lied.

“Good,” Aemma said, knowing she had picked the right choice of betrothed.

She had close to him during meals, moving their chairs to almost be touching. There was a part of him that hungered for the attention, and he knew that his prayers had been answered. Although, hallow.

She gifted him small things, she once sowed a silver trinket dragon into his sleeve. “Now you shall not need to go to the dragon pits any longer, for here if your own dragon.”

Aemond enjoyed when she dumped wine on Aegon when his brother mocked him. But, he did not like their mandated walks through the gardens and her constant questions about the state of his mind.

It was not Aemma’s words that haunted Aemond from the night be lost his eye, it was the imagined droves of ladies at court that would soon he saying the same thing.

Aemma shouted at her child brother, Lucerys, from her place at the Queen’s side, “I can not marry him now that he has one eye!”

Aemond was honestly glad to get rid of her, she had completely ignored his existence during his healing process, though she informed him that he was in her prayers.

“Thanks,” he would respond flatly.

“Perhaps someone with a large castle,” Queen Alicent mused, trying to think of that to do with the leftover princess. “She needs something to constantly busy herself.”

“Harrenhal is the largest of castles,” Lord Larys offered, from across the sitting table filled with their scheduled warm meal.

"Say that again, and I shall make her marry you,” Alicent buffed back.

“Then I shall be sure to never speak of it again,” Larys assured.

Ser Criston waited patiently outside the Queen’s chambers, and never interrupted her meals. Though, he knew the topic of discussion. The cunt princess’s actions were always so cutting towards the Lady Queen, and she needed to be cut down to size.

Ser Criston offered the plan late one night, he could tell that his Queen was drained from the girl’s constant will and talks of a world being engulfed in endless flames.

“My Queen, if it please you,” he started. “The Princess Aemma has grown…fond of me,” he was not sure how to proceed. “If you ever would want me to…”

They both stopped, neither green enough to need it said fully.

Alicent’s hands wrapped themselves around the stone railing, digging the grit into her palm. “You, the man who once asked me to order your death, hear me now,” she said, “If I hear of such things again, I shall take your hear myself. You will treat the princess as her station demands, you will be cordial and nothing more. Or I shall see your white cloak run red with your own blood. Am I understood?”

She was understood.

Somewhere deep, across the barren fields that wrapped around her mind, down a dark corridor, a tunnel of darkness, a moat of unpassable waters, there was a box under the floor boards that held a small wooden box. And inside that box was were Alicent kept what she knew to be true. That Princess Aemma was no ward, but a sacrifice Alicent was willing to make, and heir for an heir, if it were ever come such blows. And it was Alicent alone who could give that order.

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! as always~ I posted a bit of her earlier this week, hated it, took it down, and re-wrote some of it LOL Anyone want more? Any suggestions or requests? Lol she needs to have a ultra religious girl-gang lol

tags: @targaryenswhxre sorry for the mult tags Im a mess LOL

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puppetwoman17 · 3 months ago

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If you were to tell Billy that Batman is the world’s greatest detective, he would laugh at you. Honest to gods laugh in your face and call you stupid.

Then he’d tell you that the world’s greatest detective is obviously the Question. He won’t tell you why.

The Question is practically his son. He learns about what the Council of Eternity did to the Trinity of sin and is like: cool, but it’s been hundreds of years, so I’m gonna call for time. He likes to think that because the council(including Shazam) turned the Trinity into what they are, he is, somehow, in line to be their dad. Do not ask why he feels parental feelings for these grown adults. He will not have a good answer.

Does the Question know about this? Hell yes. He’s the Question. He and Phantom Stranger make sure to treat Marvel normally around others, and act like old friends when alone. Pandora, meanwhile, has no qualms with going up to Marvel and giving him a big hug when he’s surrounded by the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman.

Naturally, Billy is biased towards his 3 overgrown, mature, but still childish children.

“Question solved this one crime without ANY MONEY *wink wink batman*.”

“Stranger just sent another lord of chaos to hell! I’m so proud!”

“Pandora trapped all those monsters back inside her box—Yeah, I know she opened it in the first place— I’m so proud of her!”

The JL is confused. Bonus points if they know his identity and are worried as to why their tween-teen coworker is treating these people like his children.

Mary and Freddy are determined to be the best aunt and uncle. Nothing is stopping them.

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #dc universe #dc #the question #phantom stranger #pandora #trinity of sin #dc comics #batman #council of eternity #shazam

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nothingbutsweetwords · 3 months ago

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ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴ��ʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ…"

Word count: 7,150.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

REUNION — 11. Her.

Her heart skipped a beat when, inadvertently, she nearly collided with him at the threshold of Helaena’s door. Although she should have anticipated the possibility of finding him there, her thoughts had absorbed her so completely that she forgot about that eventuality.

Aemond looked at her intently before slightly inclining his head in a greeting that felt as harsh as a cold slap. “Niece” he pronounced with a formality that seemed unusual, like a barrier that had risen.

It was as if that single word was a reminder of the distance that now lay between them, a sharp contrast to the days when they had called each other by their names, when their voices had been soft and intimate, meant only for each other’s ears.

Upon entering, a feeling of relief enveloped her, as if the warmth of the place allowed her to release the breath she had been holding and as if the very air within had the power to soothe her troubled spirit.

It was a reflection of Helaena: decorated with soft tones and peculiar objects that seemed to have been chosen with almost ritualistic care. There were antique furnishings and pale blue silk curtains, and delicate aromas of dried flowers and spices pervaded the air. Everything created an atmosphere that made her feel like she was in a world apart, far from the realities waiting outside those walls.

“It is lovely to see you, princess” Helaena said, her voice as soft and ethereal as she remembered, a melody that always seemed to float in the air. Despite the years, she retained that magical aura.

“And you as well, princess” she replied, returning the smile. “I was wondering, could I interest you in a walk through the gardens?”

Helaena’s smile deepened as she nodded, then rose from her chair and approached her. She remembered that she had never been fond of physical contact, so with a subtle gesture, she decided not to offer her arm, respecting that particular trait that had always characterized her.

They walked side by side, exchanging words about trivial matters as they made their way through the halls. The bustle that filled the place and the presence of others compelled them to keep the conversation light, avoiding topics that might attract idle glances. However, there was an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts, a tacit understanding flowing between them.

Eventually, the noise of the castle faded as they reached the gardens. The winding paths were lined with freshness and color, and the murmur of the fountains created a soothing symphony. The sky was a clear blue, dotted with fluffy clouds, and the air was filled with the sweet perfume of flowers and the crisp and salty scent of the sea.

“I heard that you got married” she began gently as she chose her words with care. She watched Helaena closely, noticing the way her serene expression flickered for a brief moment, a fleeting shadow crossing her face. It was a subtle change, almost imperceptible, but it revealed melancholy. A pang of guilt quickly followed, realizing she had touched a delicate subject. “I apologize, I did not intend to…”

“It is quite alright, do not fret” Helaena raised a hand to reassure her, a gesture filled with understanding that eased her discomfort. “This marriage may not have been what any of us would have wished for, but some things simply must be.”

She nodded, feeling a small ache as she saw the resignation in her aunt’s blue eyes, those that used to shine with such pure light and now seemed to have lost some of their sparkle. “He may not be the greatest husband, but he is a good brother” she added, offering a faint smile. Her words were an attempt at comfort, though she knew they carried a weight, an acknowledgment of the complexities and compromises Helaena had to endure.

She found herself wondering how much she had sacrificed, how many dreams had been set aside for the sake of duty.

“And are you happy here?” she asked, hoping to delve into Helaena’s feelings, into that deep well of emotions her aunt had always carried with her. There was something in her expression, a latent sadness, a yearning for something more that she couldn’t ignore.

Helaena paused, gazing into the distance before she spoke. “Happiness is a curious thing,” she said with a wistful tone, “sometimes it hides in the most unexpected places. I believe I have discovered a peace here that I did not foresee, though it is not what one might imagine.”

She felt admiration and sadness as she listened, recognizing the strength it took to find peace in less-than-ideal circumstances. “That can be a form of happiness” she offered gently, aiming to convey her understanding. “It may differ, but it is nonetheless genuine.”

Helaena smiled softly. “Indeed” she agreed. “It is a gift in itself, and I have learned to cherish it.”

She nodded slowly. She knew her aunt had always had a special connection to the world, a perception that transcended the visible, touching the mystical, the ineffable, and that what she had found was not resignation but a deep acceptance of her place in the grand scheme of things.

“And how has time treated you?” Helaena asked.

She swallowed, aware of the subtext in her own response. “Time can be relentless, yet it is also revealing” she said, with a tone that tried to remain neutral. “However, Dragonstone has truly brought me joy and transformed me.” A faint smile touched her lips as she allowed herself to reflect on the place she had come to love. “I hope you might visit someday; Aegon’s garden is as beautiful as they say. Perhaps less vibrant than this, but just as lovely. There are blueberry trees and numerous pines” she added.

Helaena nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes, I do like it very much” she said.

She cleared her throat, as if preparing to pose a question whose weight could change the course of the conversation. “How has he been?” she finally asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, almost as if fearing that the wind might carry her question away before receiving an answer.

“My dear brother is quite hard to decipher” she responded. “He has merely been… simply existing.” She paused, then added, “I do believe your visit might prove beneficial for him.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, a sound born of frustration and the nagging doubt that her presence could make any difference. Her expression twisted with sadness and cynicism, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her. “I am uncertain that my presence is what he requires” she muttered, the words tinged with a bitterness she hadn’t intended to show.

Helaena, however, only chuckled softly at her response, her gaze knowing. “You may be surprised” she said with a smile. “Sometimes, fate takes its toll on us in ways we cannot control” Helaena mused. “I am sure he wishes to speak with you.”

She knew that when Helaena spoke with certainty about the future, her words were more a revelation than a mere observation, so a spark of hope emerged within her.

The sea breeze gently caressed their faces as they continued walking through the gardens. The sound of waves breaking against the sand in the distance provided a soothing backdrop that accompanied their conversation.

“I recall when we used to play here” she said, her eyes sweeping over the landscape that had witnessed so many shared laughs and secrets. “We were so different then, so innocent.”

Helaena nodded. “Time alters us all… Yet, at times, I wonder if we truly change or if we merely uncover who we are meant to be.”

She furrowed her brow, pondering these words. “Perhaps that is the case” she murmured, more to herself than to Helaena, as if trying to unravel the hidden meaning behind that reflection. There was something in her aunt’s serenity that had always puzzled her, a kind of deep calm that contrasted with the turmoil that seemed to envelop the rest of the world.

“So, Silverwing” Helaena said suddenly, smiling with a glint of complicity in her face. She smiled at the simple mention.

“It was magnificent, Helaena” she said, filled with emotion. “I feel as though all the years I awaited have finally borne fruit.”

“I knew it would come to you,” Helaena said softly. “It was destined to be.” She lowered her gaze, her voice descending. “I did see a story repeating” she murmured. “The connection between you and her is deeper than you imagine, and your destiny is tied to hers in ways we do not yet understand.”

The words lingered in the air, imbued with mystery, as if the future was traced on an invisible line only she could see.

She fell silent, immersed in the depth of what she had just heard. The sensation of standing on the edge of a premonition, of knowing that something was coming but being unable to see it clearly, was both intriguing and unsettling. Her mind raced with possibilities, questions, and the fear of the unknown. With a nervous laugh that barely masked her growing unease, she asked, “Should I be fearful?”

Helaena’s expression softened, her lips parting to speak, but before she could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile moment. A maid appeared before them, and with a respectful bow, informed them that Rhaenyra was awaiting her presence.

She nodded, thanking the maid with a faint smile. She turned to Helaena, who said, “It appears that duty always beckons.”

“Shall I accompany you back to your chambers?” she asked, hoping to prolong their time together, even if only for a few more minutes. There was so much left unsaid.

“I would prefer to stay here a little longer” Helaena replied softly, almost dreamy.

She nodded again, though her mind remained tangled. As she headed toward the exit of the gardens, her steps grew slower, and before crossing the threshold back to the castle, she turned once more to look at Helaena. There, standing among the flowers and the murmurs of the garden, Helaena with her enigma and wisdom seemed to hold answers to questions she hadn’t yet fully formed.

As she stood there, torn between staying and leaving, a flicker of movement caught her eye. From one of the nearby galleries, she saw Jacaerys making his way toward the garden. A spark of intrigue ignited within her at the sight of her brother, his presence unexpected.

She watched him for a brief moment, curiosity mingling with a sense of foreboding. With questions swirling in her mind, she finally turned away, continuing on her way.

After a quiet dinner with her family, she retired to her room. Although the bath was meant to be a refuge of calm, it did little to soothe her agitated mind; the words continued to echo in her head like an unrelenting echo.

Once in bed, frustration took hold of her, marking every line of her face with the hardness of unease. Uncertainty gnawed at her inside. Why would he want to talk to her? After years of cold silence, after so many unanswered letters and desperate pleas, what could he possibly have to say?

She wrestled with the idea of seeking him out. Why should she be the one to make the first move when he had maintained such a cruel distance? She recalled how that very morning, during breakfast, he had shown not the slightest indication of wanting to address her, and that indifference had felt like a calculated insult, intensifying the raw edge of her anger.

The annoyance turned into an oppressive presence. She felt trapped in a cruel paradox: cast aside and yet irresistibly drawn to him. She closed her eyes, grumbling. Worse still, memories began to flood her, each one more painful than the last. Everything about him was etched into her being in an indelible way, and yet, he remained an enigma, a question without an answer.

It was tormenting to dream of the delicate act of brushing his long, silken hair; distressing to aspire to feel the softness of his skin under her fingers; exasperating to imagine being close enough to trace the features that the years had added and molded on his face; unbearable to visualize his imposing presence beside her, and maddening to fantasize about kissing the lips she once knew.

Would it be enough to stand on tiptoe to reach him, or would he have to bend down as well to close their distance? Would his mouth still hold the same sweetness it had that night? Would she still melt under the heat of his proximity with the same intensity?

Then more demoralizing questions arose: Would she still be the only one whose arrival softened his gaze with relief and illuminated it with joy? Would she still be the only one he allowed himself to show his true vulnerability to, the only refuge for his battered soul?

Each memory, each fantasy, was an echo of what had been and what could have been, both a comfort and a torment. Resignation and hope intertwined within her, each struggling to dominate the other, leaving her at an emotional crossroads. The battle between the desire to forget him and the longing to reclaim him was so intense that it offered no peace.

She wanted to hate him for what he had caused her, for the endless nights of loneliness and tears shed in his name. She wanted to hate him for the agony of waiting for a sign that never came, for the affection that remained alive despite the pain. Yet, despite her resolve, she could not. Her soul, bruised and defenseless, could not harbor that hatred.

“Fuck” she cursed under her breath, burying her face in the pillow as if she could smother everything within her. But it was futile; every emotion refused to be silenced, every memory clung tightly to her soul.

Finally, unable to bear the pressure in her chest any longer, she got out of bed with a nearly frantic impulse. She needed to see him, and needed answers. She hastily dressed, her determined hands slipping into a silk robe that barely covered her attire, and took a candle to light her way.

She left her room, traversing the hallways she had long abandoned. Each step echoed in the night’s silence, and her thoughts raced uncontrollably, driven by an uncontainable longing. She didn’t know what she would find at the end of this path, but something inside her urged her to keep going, to face whatever awaited her in the darkness.

With each step, she questioned her decision, but then she saw him. There, approaching her. The dim light of the candle barely illuminated his features, but she didn’t need more to recognize him. They both stood frozen, staring at each other, each trapped in their own thoughts.

She wondered if he was there for her, if he had felt the same impulse, or if their meeting was merely a coincidence. Before he could confirm the latter, her lips moved forward, and though her voice tried to remain steady, a subtle tremor betrayed her nerves.

“I wished to speak with you” she said, her words hanging in the air, a tentative bridge between the two of them, each waiting for the other to cross it. “Shall we go to your chambers?”

He nodded, and though the dimness made it hard to read his expression, the surprise was evident in the tension of his posture, in the way his shoulders lifted slightly.

He walked silently beside her, guiding her to his room. The space had remained untouched, as if the years had not left their mark. Everything was in place, meticulously ordered.

She set the candle on the bedside table, and with an instinctive gesture, her gaze landed on a sapphire resting in the same spot as the one she had gifted him so many years ago. This one was smaller, less imposing, yet its presence in that familiar place pierced her core in a way she hadn't anticipated. A dull ache pierced her chest.

Without saying a word, she walked to the window, seeking the fresh air that seemed just beyond the glass. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her irregular breathing, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

“Why?” The word cut through the air like a knife, sharpened by years of pain, unrequited love, and accumulated fear that had festered in silence. She turned on her heels to face him, her voice trembling with the intensity of what she felt. At that moment, more than ever, she needed the truth.

Why had he ignored her for so long? What invisible force had kept him away, preventing him from responding, from seeking her, even once?

She wasn't sure what answer she was yearning for. Perhaps finding comfort in the notion that he hadn’t cared as much as she had; though such a revelation might break her heart again, it would at least allow her to turn away and bury those fragile hopes that kept her on edge.

Finally, in a grave and almost muted whisper, he said: “Why what?” Hearing him again made her pulse race.

“Why did you never come to see me?” she asked, her composure wavering, barely upheld by the strength of her resolve.

The silence that followed was unbearable. He looked at her, his eye reflecting a storm of emotions, but his lips remained sealed, as if the answers were trapped in his throat, unable to escape. His mouth opened and closed several times, making no sound, as if the weight of the truth was too heavy to bear.

“I did not know if you wished for my presence” he finally responded, so simple that it seemed almost insulting, only deepening her disbelief.

“Is this some jest? I asked you so many times” she demanded with growing bitterness. “Did my letters mean so little to you that you did not even take the time to read them?” Her voice hardened, laden with a suppressed rage that had been wounding her for too long.

“What letters?” he asked, his confusion evident, etching across his face like a blank canvas, as if he couldn’t comprehend the words she spoke. The question seemed almost naive.

“The letters!” she exclaimed, feeling her short patience running thin with every passing second, “the ones I sent you” she added, stating the obvious. The urgency to clarify the situation was like an unstoppable force, driving her to speak, to bring to light what had remained hidden. “I thought we had something special. Did I imagine it?” She finally cracked. “I waited for so long, I wrote to you so many times, like a fool. I hoped… I hoped for a response, a visit, something to let me know you hadn’t forgotten me” she confessed, her emotions overflowing, raw and naked before him.

“You wrote me?” he asked, as if he needed to hear it once more to fully grasp the reality of her words.

She glared at him, her frustration boiling over. How could he be so cruel as to toy with her emotions? “Do not mock me” she snapped, turning her back on him in anger.

She felt his proximity, the radiance of his body like a magnet drawing her in, but she forced herself to look out the window, struggling to regain her composure. Then, his voice broke through, filled with a desperation that tugged at her heartstrings.

“I wrote to you as well, hundreds of times. I swear this to you, by all the gods” he said, pleading. There was something in his tone, an earnestness that made her hesitate. It sounded so genuine, so wounded, that she couldn’t simply dismiss it.

“I never received a single letter from you” she countered, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Nor did I. Not one. Had I received any, I would have come to you at once. You must believe me" he replied with pain, as if each word cost him dearly. “I thought you did not want to hear from me”

She studied him, trying to read the truth in his eyes, the shadow of anguish that seemed to cling to him. Despite the sincerity she sensed, a veil of doubt still loomed over her, casting a cold shadow over her. He had never deceived her before, and she had no reason to disbelieve him now, but the situation didn’t make sense.

“Why would I not?” she asked, distrustful. His shoulders rose in a gesture of ignorance, unable to offer a concrete answer. The confusion on his face reflected the internal chaos they shared.

Then, a possibility emerged in her mind. What if he was telling the truth? What if the years of separation were not due to their own actions, but to some malevolent force that had kept them apart? The idea was both terrifying and liberating, but she still couldn’t fully accept it.

She shook her head, her mind spinning in a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts. She began to pace nervously around the room, searching for answers in the air. Her steps were quick, uneven, as her mind tried to process what she was hearing. The room felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in. After several minutes of internal struggle, she halted abruptly and turned to face him. He stood still, his gaze fixed on her.

“Are you not upset about this?” she asked, skepticism still marking her tone. If all of this was true, then the situation was even more perplexing, almost impossible to comprehend.

He looked at her intently, his eye piercing through all her barriers, touching her very soul. “I cannot find it within myself to be angry at this moment, not when you are here before me once more” he whispered with a tenderness that seemed straight out of her wildest dreams. His words were heavy with a melancholic sincerity, as if every syllable was a tribute that carried the weight of the years they had been apart. Her own heartbeats began to quicken, almost painfully, resonating in her ears.

“I never stopped thinking about you, wondering why I never heard from you, missing you” he continued, cutting through the layers of her distrust. “I never wanted to lose you.”

The tears that had been threatening to appear pooled in her eyes, clouding her vision. “Is that true?” she asked, trembling. “Did you truly never stop thinking about me?”

He moved closer slowly, closing the distance between them with each step. “Never,” he confirmed, “not for a single second.” A small shiver ran down her spine as she heard him. The romantic words she had longed for so much, which had seemed like mere whispers in books and songs, were now manifesting in her reality, but it felt so surreal that surrendering to it seemed almost naive.

She bit her lower lip, struggling to maintain control, to not give in. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze, murmuring softly, “This is too much.”

With an air of quiet acceptance, he responded, “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

She turned away, still in shock, her mind unable to fully process what had just happened. Before she could think any further, she turned back and threw herself into his arms, her body acting on her deepest wants.

He, always so prepared for anything, took a step back, caught off guard by her sudden move. Feeling his heart racing, tears began to fall uncontrollably. The embrace was fierce, as if she could hold onto the fragments of their lost time and prevent them from slipping away like the letters they never received.

He held her close, gently resting his head on hers. The only sound in the room was her ragged breathing and the small sobs escaping from her throat, creating an intimate cocoon of shared vulnerability.

“I am sorry, I am sorry for everything” she whispered through her tears. She didn’t quite know the reason for the lament, perhaps for the love they had let slip away, or for the illusion she had created to justify his silence, which didn’t do justice to the boy she had loved. She closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment, allowing her emotions to overflow.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head to look at him. “What do we do now?” she asked, searching for a glimmer of direction, a way forward amidst the uncertainty.

He raised a hand to her face, gently wiping away the tears that fell, the hot contact on her skin causing a tingling sensation. “I won’t let us be separated again” he said with firm determination. “If you will allow me, I wish to mend what has been broken.”

He looked at her expectantly, searching for a sign of consent, and she nodded softly, accepting the offer. In that moment, she understood that, despite the time and distance, maybe, just maybe, they could find a way back to each other.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended in a heavy silence. Their gazes intertwined, merging in an instant that felt endless. Finally, she slowly pulled away from him, though his hands seemed reluctant to let her go. With her mind overwhelmed, she let out a deep sigh and turned toward the door.

He took the candle and opened the door. He went first, leading the way that she knew better. A small smile appeared on her lips.

Arriving at the door of her room, she pushed it open and entered, pausing to look back at him. He stayed a few inches behind, right at the threshold. “Take it” she said, pointing to the candle. He nodded with a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Good night” she added.

“Good night” he replied.

Before closing the door, she gathered her courage and planted a small kiss on his cheek. The contact, though brief, left him momentarily stunned. As the door clicked shut, she leaned against it, allowing herself a moment of solitude, letting out another deep sigh.

As the minutes passed and the echo of his footsteps faded in the hallway, she moved further into the room. She set aside her silk robe and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. She buried her face in the pillow, stifling a cry of frustration and relief, letting the weight of the evening’s emotions pour out.

Dawn brought a new perspective and a soft light that had yet to filter through the window. She woke up with a sense of duality, both agitated and peaceful, her thoughts still tangled with the events of the previous night.

The revelation that her letters had never reached their recipient, that the words she had poured out with so much love and desperation had been lost in a void of no return, was a bittersweet blow.

It had been both reassuring and heart-wrenching at the same time, a truth that revealed much and, at the same time, very little. It had stolen her years of companionship but also showed her the resilience of a bond that seemed to defy distance and time.

She slowly sat up, the weight of emotions still fresh. Before she could finish getting ready, the door creaked open, and Lyra entered with a look of shock.

“Did you tumble from your bed?” she joked. “Are you well?” she asked, moving closer upon noticing her expression.

She took her friend's hand and gently guided her to the bed. Lyra sat beside her, her eyes filled with silent empathy.

“Has something happened?” Lyra pressed, shifting from playful to serious, and her brow furrowed more intensely.

“I visited his chambers last night” she said directly, without preamble. The reaction was immediate: her mouth fell slightly open.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Lyra asked, her voice rising with indignation. She made a gesture with her hand, signaling her to keep her tone down. “Why?” she repeated, more forcefully this time.

“I needed to speak with him” she replied. The expression on Lyra’s face turned into a blend of understanding and exasperation as she tilted her head, studying her. “You yourself suggested we needed to resolve matters” she justified, trying to validate her actions.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, a gesture of reprimand. “I did not intend for you to seek him out in his chamber in the middle of the night” she corrected, low and tense. “If someone were to find out…”

“Nothing happened, we merely conversed” she interrupted, trying to defuse the situation.

“But you are not children any longer” Lyra continued, concerned. “Such a visit would not be well seen, especially not for you.” She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. “Well, go on then, what did he say?” Lyra asked finally, her curiosity clearly overcoming her initial concern.

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “He claimed he never received my letters and that he had written to me” she replied, quoting his words. “It turns out, both of us were left waiting, each under the impression that the other had moved on.”

“How can that be?” Lyra inquired. “That is a great deal to process.” After a moment of reflection, she asked cautiously, in a barely perceptible whisper, squeezing her hands. “Do you believe him?”

“Yes, I do. Besides, what motive would he have to deceive me? If he had truly ignored my letters, he would have no reason to deny it.” She sighed before continuing. “Aemond can be unkind at times, but he has never been untrue.”

Lyra nodded, although doubt still lingered in her mind. “Do you think it could have been…?” she began, her tone dropping even further, as if fearing the words she was about to utter, hesitant to voice the suspicion.

“I do not believe so” she replied firmly. “This seems excessive, even for her.” Lyra looked at her skeptically, recalling past actions.

“For the woman who nearly harmed your mother?” Lyra asked, with an incredulous grimace. She bit her lip, knowing that a mother’s desperation can drive one to extreme measures, but she didn’t dismiss the idea entirely.

“But this situation does not solely affect me” she continued, with an intensity reflecting the complexity of the situation. “It affects him as well. And she cares for him deeply.”

“Precisely” Lyra agreed. “She would do whatever it takes to protect him.”

“Protect him from what?” she asked with confusion. The question hung in the air, and Lyra remained silent, without a clear answer.Then, finally spoke, thoughtful.

“She might have had reasons to keep him away from you, perhaps out of fear or misguided protection.”

She pondered, her mind racing with the possibilities. “But why? What could be so dire that it would justify such measures?”

“I do not know. But at least you have cleared the air now. What comes next?”

“I am not entirely sure” she admitted.

After a few minutes of silent reflection, a soft chuckle escaped Lyra’s lips, slowly building into a cascade of infectious giggles. The accumulated tension seemed to dissipate with that joyful sound. She looked at her, caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood.

“What is so amusing?” she asked.

Lyra tried to stifle her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand, but her eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam. “Ever since I arrived, I have been giving him the cold shoulder” she admitted between giggles. “The poor boy must be utterly baffled.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of a confused and helpless Aemond. “Do you think he noticed?” she asked, the smile still lingering on her lips.

“Most likely, I looked at him like he was the stranger himself.” Lyra replied, her laughter still bubbling up. “He must have wondered what on earth he did to earn such hostility.”

Their laughter intertwined, filling the room with a warm, rejuvenating energy, washing away the remnants of earlier worries.

“Thank you for always standing by my side” she said with genuine gratitude.

“Always” Lyra replied, her hand gently brushing against hers.

Before long, a soft, persistent knocking at the door interrupted their conversation. Lyra stood up and went to open it, revealing the small figure of her younger brother, peeking in with some shyness.

“I came to fetch you for breakfast” Joffrey said.

She smiled and rose from the bed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as she got up. She approached him, taking his tiny hand tenderly, and let him lead her.

After breakfast, she enjoyed a leisurely stroll with Joffrey, their small conversation peppered with laughter. Later, they lost themselves in the depths of the library, where he became utterly captivated by the history of dragons, his curiosity leading to a flurry of questions that she eagerly answered, pleased to see his fascination.

As the day wore on, and she returned to her chambers, she began to feel the gentle pull of fatigue settling over her. With thoughts of a possible meeting lingering in her mind, she slipped off her shoes, intending to indulge in a brief nap. But just as she was about to surrender to the comfort of her bed, a series of gentle knocks interrupted her reverie. The sound was unusual, coming from the back door. A flutter of excitement stirred within her as she quickly made her way to the door.

When she opened it, she found him standing there, his expression showing relief. The sight of him brought an instant smile to her lips, one that he mirrored with a sincere, if slightly reserved, smile of his own. The mere sight of his face was a cure for her restless soul.

“My prince, it’s a pleasure to see you” she said, friendly.

“The pleasure is all mine, my princess” he responded carrying a touch of formality that didn’t quite mask the underlying nervousness. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat and added, with a hint of uncertainty, “I was wondering if you might grace me with your company for lunch.”

She looked at him, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through her. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. “Yes, I would like that. Shall we dine on the balconies?” she suggested, her tone light and inviting.

He hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing his features as his gaze shifted. “I was thinking… perhaps my chambers” he finally said, unsure whether his proposal would meet her expectations.

She raised her eyebrows in mock startelement, a playful glint as she teased, “Do you truly believe that to be appropriate?”

His composure faltered, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “No, of course not, you are right” he stammered, clearly flustered. “If the balconies are your preference, I can…” His voice faded into a murmur, the words trailing off into an insecure murmur.

She interrupted him with a light laugh, a melody that seemed to dissipate the tension in the air. “I was only jesting, let us be off.”

She turned away momentarily to slip her shoes back on, then returned to his side, his expression more relaxed. He offered his arm to her, and she took it gently, feeling the heat of the contact despite the leather suit he wore.

Together, they walked their way down the hall, the midday sun filtering through the narrow windows, bathing their faces in golden light that made the atmosphere feel even more intimate. They couldn’t help but steal furtive glances, trying to decipher each other’s thoughts.

Upon reaching his room, she was greeted by a scene of meticulous preparation. The table near the window was elegantly set, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Every detail had been considered—the dishes arranged with care, the variety of delicacies laid out like a feast for the senses, all reflecting the thoughtfulness of someone who had taken great pains to create something special.

As they approached the table, he hurried to pull out a chair for her, a courteous gesture that brought a soft smile to her lips. “Thank you” she murmured as she settled into it.

He sat across from her, and as he did, the atmosphere seemed to soften, the initial tension giving way to a more comforting familiarity. “An entire army could feast on this” she teased, her gaze sweeping over the overflowing table. “Does no one find it strange that you requested so much food?” Her curiosity was laced with a hint of excitement, wondering if he had mentioned she was joining him.

He offered a shy smile, a quiet laugh escaping as he began serving the food. “I was unsure of your preferences” he admitted. “And no, I usually dine with my sister.” His voice held a note of apology that didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience to her” she said, with a slight disappointment, but acknowledging the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. The care he’d taken in preparing the lunch spoke volumes, revealing a sincere desire to share this moment with her.

“No such thing” he reassured, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She understood the unspoken message—Helaena, no doubt, was already aware and understood.

As they began to serve themselves, the meal took on a significance beyond the food on their plates. Their conversation flowed easily, touching on lighthearted topics—books they had read, childhood memories that evoked shared laughter, recent events that bridged the gap of time they had spent apart. She noticed how his face brightened with each bite, relaxed. Yet, beneath their words, there was a palpable tension underlying it, a tacit acknowledgment that something important was about to be discussed.

When the meal drew to a close, a silence settled between them—not the awkward kind, but rather the type that felt like a collective breath, a pause before something of great importance. It was as if they were both gathering their thoughts, preparing for the conversation they both knew was inevitable. The room, now quieter, holding its breath alongside them, the air thick with anticipation as they hovered on the brink of a pivotal moment.

She stood up slowly, excusing herself before walking toward the window. Perching on its edge, she gazed out, lost in the endless expanse of the city below. After a brief pause, he followed, leaning against the wall beside her, close enough to share the view but leaving a respectful distance. “It seems like the city never rests” she whispered, barely louder than the soft hum of life outside. He followed her gaze, nodding in quiet agreement.

The silence between them grew deeper, as if the world itself had paused to allow them to find the right words. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Last night… I did not truly know what to say” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for answers in the stones. His hands, usually so sure and steady, now betrayed him, fidgeting with a nervous energy that seemed out of place. “It was… too overwhelming.” She watched him, allowing him to find his own rhythm as he spoke, giving him space to organize his thoughts.

“I cannot help but feel that this is an opportunity the gods have placed before us” he continued, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, a fragile flicker of hope igniting within him. “I know not if this is the right moment… or if there ever is a right moment” he added, his fingers scratching at the sensitive skin on the side of his nails.

Before his nervous hands could inflict harm, she reached out, gently enclosing them within her own, her fingers wrapping around his in a tender, reassuring embrace. Under her comforting touch, his anxiety slowly faded. She drew him closer, making him sit beside her, their faces now almost at the same level.

He looked out toward the horizon. “I know I promised you time last night… and if that is what you require, I shall honor it” he murmured. “We can start anew… rediscover who we are now. But I feel that, no matter how much we have changed, deep within… we are still ourselves. And I have spent too many days regretting the words I never spoke, the chances I did not seize.”

He turned his gaze from the horizon back to her. “And if there is one thing of which I am certain, it is what I feel for you” he whispered, raw with emotion.

She met his gaze, her curiosity flickering, the unspoken need to hear the words that had yet to cross his lips. “And what, pray tell, do you feel for me?” she asked softly, aching to uncover the depths of him.

He inched a little closer, his eye locking onto hers with a fierce intensity that seemed to draw in all the light around them and steal her breath away. “A force that compels me to search for you in every corner of my soul, the reason my days feel hollow and incomplete if you are not in them" he said, letting the weight of his feelings settle between them like a fragile, precious thing. "Without you, I am but a dragon without fire, a mere shadow of what I could be… with you by my side”

She stared at him, paralyzed by the beauty of his words, unable to find her voice. The seconds stretched out, feeling like an eternity until he, with a tone laced with vulnerability, asked, “And you, do you feel the same about me?”

A pang of remorse pierced her chest for making him wait and for the doubt she had created in him. “Yes, I do” she answered with the undeniable truth.

He sighed, relief and hope lighting up his face. “I believe we must tread cautiously, at least for a time” he said. “There is still one who does not wish to see us united. If we keep this between us, it will be easier to protect what we share.”

She nodded, caught in a tug-of-war between the desire to proclaim their love to the world and the understanding of his wish for caution. While every fiber of her being longed to declare their victory over the obstacles that had stood in their way, she knew there was wisdom in his words.

“I have missed you” he confessed so soft it was almost swallowed by the quiet of the room.

“And I you” she replied, “dearly”

He looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart swell, then the space between them seemed to dissolve as their hands remained clasped. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. “Would you like to spend the rest of the afternoon with me?” he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @truly-abysmal @fossface @congenialcopycat @that-girl-named-alex @oh-you-mean-me

now it's going to start the good part i promise! besitos.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fluff #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond

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