#yandere fire and blood

[anxiousnerdwritings]

(One minute of your attention please 🙏)

What about Aenys’s!Twin!Powerful!Reader? Just imagine that Aenys was born as weak and sickly, while his twin was born strong, healthy and didn’t cry.

What do you think about this? Just really really curious.

Thank you for reading.

I think Visenya would definitely take different to Aenys’ twin if this was the case. If the twin was a girl then you can bet she would have the Reader betrothed to Maegor.

I do like to think that Aenys and his twin would be very close, maybe even with his twin being his protector. Not only that but also being the one to be able to comfort and calm Aenys especially as children. I think Aenys would look up to and admire his twin greatly, especially if they weren’t just stronger and healthier than him but also took it upon themself to care for and look after him of their own accord and doing so with nothing but love and care for their brother and wanting nothing more than for him to be happy and well.

I do feel like Maegor would be jealous and resentful of Aenys for the treatment he gets from the Reader. Whether Aenys’ twin is a boy or a girl, I think Maegor would greatly detest how they treat and dote on Aenys. He feels as though Aenys is holding the Reader back and that the Reader could do and be so much more with Aenys out of the picture. Like why is the Reader wasting their time on weak Aenys when Maegor is right there. Maegor doesn’t need to be tended to on the daily, he isn’t weak or sickly, he’s strong and so much more than Aenys could ever fathom trying to be. Maegor would want nothing more than for his half-brother/half-sister to pay attention to him, after all he deserves it more than Aenys does anyway. And Visenya would agree.

I definitely feel like Aenys and Maegor would be yandere for their sibling, whether it’s strictly platonic or eventually turns romantic is something else.

I also believe Aenys’ children and Maegor’s wives would also be just as obsessed with the Reader too.

[yanderes-galore]

Aemond vs Lucerys hcs? Romantic (assuming this is enough info-)

Oh dear... sorry if things seem OOC, here you go! I'm still new to writing ASOIAF. Please take note of trigger warnings, this is ASOIAF after all.

I'm an Aemond fan and prefer him but I put this man through hell in this.

Yandere! Aemond Targaryen vs Lucerys Velaryon

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Canon divergent time-line where Lucerys isn't dead (Dance is either postponed or doesn't happen), Obsession, Violence, Manipulation, Threats, Betrothal, Age Gap Aemond (I think he'd be like 25/26 in this if you and Lucerys are about 18/19), Medieval relationship dynamic (Although you aren't implied to be Targaryen), Swearing, Possessive behavior, Forced affection (From Aemond), Mature themes, Attempted murder/Dueling, Kidnapping mention, Dark themes and unhealthy dynamics, Dubious relationships.

A rivalry such as this is definitely volatile.

The two have an evident history with each other ever since they were young.

After all, Lucerys took Aemond's eye.

Ever since then the two haven't gotten along.

They most likely never will due to their different sides and past.

You throw in betrothal? You're asking for fights.

Imagine if Lucerys and you are betrothed as ordered by Rhaenyra.

Despite this, Aemond still finds himself fond of you.

Probably has for years.

You've always been adorable to him, yet it angers him that you've been betrothed to the bastard or took his eye.

Lucerys just seems to take everything from him.

It doesn't help that you may also be fond of Lucerys, you aren't marrying him just for duty, but also because of your own feelings.

Aemond has admittedly thought of ways to cancel your betrothal.

He has often asked his mother Alicent to convince Rhaenyra of changing things.

Yet nothing comes of it as both you and Lucerys seem happy.

Which causes Aemond to seethe.

Lucerys is no doubt aware of Aemond's fondness towards you.

It's hard to ignore when the Targaryen's peering eye lingers on you.

Lucerys no doubt dislikes the thought of Aemond trying to separate you both.

Lucerys does not wish to fight his uncle, especially over you.

To Lucerys, the betrothal is final.

You want this, he wants this, that's how it should be.

Yet Lucerys still has to deal with Aemond courting you right up until wedding day.

He's laying the charm on thick, trying his best to make you rethink your agreement with Lucerys.

Lucerys doesn't let Aemond's words sway you.

Your fiancé always manages to catch Aemond trying to court you, pinning you to a wall to try and seduce you.

This always ends in a fight, Lucerys telling off Aemond to stop his advances.

But both of their obsessions only seem to grow.

There's a good chance even after the wedding is official Aemond may just crash it.

That or try to force a conflict between Lucerys, perhaps even suggesting a duel for your hand.

Both men are quite possessive of you and the idea of marrying you.

Even to the point of threats and violence.

Want to make this even worse?

Bring the dragons into it.

Vhagar can sense Aemond's distress towards being unable to have you.

His draconic mount often ends up hearing his complaints when she rests.

Arrax notices the irritation of his own rider towards Aemond's courting.

The dragon often tries to encourage his rider to keep fighting for you.

But it appears their feud just keep sparking up flames.

There's many ways this could end.

One of them kills the other... Aemond kidnaps you... etc...

The two dragons think their riders will resolve this on their own.

But it seems their rivalry will only end in fire and blood.

By the end of it only time will tell who actually gets your hand in marriage.

[itsmeyaspider]

Catched in a dragon's cave~

Yandere Aegon II x female thief reader x Yandere Aemond part 2

Trigger warning: rape, violence, blood, yandere themes, toxic behavior, I don't think that any of this behavior is fine!!! I don't justify any of this! It's just a made up yandere story so be aware!

Part 1:

Pain, that is the only thing you feel when Aegon starts to penetrate you. Tears run down your cheek, your whole body flinches at every trust he does. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction, you didn't want him to see how much you suffer under him. Abruptly, you close your (e/c) eyes, inwardly you pray to the gods that it will be soon over. Aegons is satisfied in every way he could imagine, your cute (b/t) body is trembling under him, a wide satisfying smile could be seen on his lips. You were tight, what he really loved. Especially on woman who looked so fragile and helpless under him. It was a good idea to make you his personal whore.

"You like it whore? Hmm, taking my cock so well. You can count yourself lucky that you got such a task." He pushes further into you, nothing escapes his evil, violet eyes, all your oh so sweet reactions make him even harder. He likes it when they fight back, and he liked it even more when they trying to fight him. Fuck, you really drive him crazy. He strokes your cheek almost in a gentle way, for a small amount of time you thought he is finished, but suddenly you hear a loud noise in his chamber. Your cheek start to glow red, as another pain runs through your body and you almost scream. Aegon seems to be satisfied again.

"Did I give you permission to close your eyes?" His voice sounds angry, a second ago he was completely different and now you wish that he would be happy again. "Open your fucking eyes when I fuck you or do you want me to take them out?" You open immediately your (e/c) eyes as they sparkle with fear. "I-I'm sorry M-mylord...I-it won't happen again" you stutter out. Your voice is music in his ears, your body who is shaking because of him, and your eyes who are filled with great fear.

You are his little whore, no one else will ever dare to touch you. If someone is stupid enough to do that, he would make sure that his head would hang on the wall.

-------

You lie on the far too big bed, crying over and over again. The feeling of dirt and filth running through your whole body, this is a living nightmare. 'I should have preferred torture, at least I would have died with proud' Slowly you get up from the bed, clutching your stomach, you close your eyes as you start to pray again to the gods that you will never get pregnant from him. You glance at yourself in the mirror, only now you notice all the hickeys and bite marks. Your whole body is covered in it. God, why are you so weak? Where was your strength? You were raised by the streets and you saw many horrible things, and still you couldn't do anything about your new situation.

You would loved to cry again, but with all your rest strength you force yourself to not do it again. 'Stay strong...you will survive' you tell yourself as you decide to take a warm bath. Maybe that would at least make you feel a little bit better. After you finished, you look in the closet that Aegon has filled with dresses and jewelry for you. Many beautiful things catching your eyes, expensive things you could have never wear before. But you really didn't feel like wearing anything glamorous right now, after all what happened you think it would be better to not cause any other problems. You hand reaches for a green dress with a simpler dark green pattern. Nevertheless, it is overflowing with golden hem.

With a small sigh, you decide to take a short walk around the castle. You didn't see to much from it the first time. Your (e/c) eyes didn't know where to look first. Everything was beautiful, the decoration, the pictures on the wall, even the ground was different. You slowly start to float in your fantasy when you suddenly bump into someone.

"Watch out" Says a rough voice. You immediately look up as you notice a purple eye. 'Shit.' You hastily bow as you can't get rid of the feeling of being stared at. Someone is staring in your soul. "E-Excuse me, Mylord," your voice shakes again as you take a glance at the ground. The intensity of the gaze puts your body into a trance like state, it is as if you were trapped in a cage, and in front of you is a large lion who is waiting to eat you. Aemond is clearly amused from the woman infornt of her, he likes how much influence he already had over you.

"What's your name?" He asks without any emotion in his voice. You are very suprised that the prince is actually interested in you, but it's not in your power to question this. It would be better if you keep your head low, you already got the King's attention, you don't need the Prince too. The story's about Aemond Targaryen were as cruel as those about his brother. "My name is (Y/n)." A small smile spreads on his face, something in it made you really uncomfortable. The Targaryen looks at you for one last time, as he disappeares. 'Strange....the Targaryens are all fucked up' you think to yourself, today wasn't your day.

-----------

The day passes by, as you continue to wander like a ghost trough the huge castle. Even now you only seen half of it, with a small sigh you go towards you chamber, secretly hoping that Aegon isn't waiting there. 'Be strong...' On the way back you suddenly get a very bad feeling, only now you notice that you being watched. This time you decide to listen to your feelings and so you follow a different direction. You take a deep breath as somebody suddenly grabs your hand, pressing you against a cold stone wall.

"Where do you go at such a late hour? Shouldn't you be back to your chambers where my brother waits?" Aemonds voice sounds almost gentle, but you still can't shake the feeling that he is mocking you. His fingers glide over your red cheeks, you could feel bis warm breath on your necks. Your body starts to tremble, the uncomfortable feeling gets worse and worse. 'I-I'm on my way to h-him...Mylord" you stutter with the last remaining strength, the gods must have a lot of fun watching you suffer, there was no other way to explain why the other Targaryen was interested in you now too. Aegon is already enough but now also Aemond? Was this some kind of game you couldn't understand or just a joke to make your life worse?

The prince's finger slides now towards your lips, his eye sparks with malice. Something about him immediately screams to run, run as fast as you can. But you couldn't, you're trapped and your body won't listen to you anyways. "Is that so? Answer me this whore, are you having fun pleasing my brother?" Now a small smirk forms on his lips. "M-Mylord I-" but before you can continue to speak, the Targaryen presses you even harder against the wall, his lips crashing with yours. You open your (e/c) eyes in shock, everything gets crazier and crazier. You feel his tongue circling in your mouth, he obviously wants to show you how superior he is to you and where your place is. Underneath him.

You thought it would never end, you could already feel how close you are to cry again. That couldn't be true...was this the punishment for robbing other people? Suddenly a loud, angry voice echoes through the corridor, footsteps can be heard and Aemond immediately let you go out of his grip. "Leave her alone. She is mine. I'm warning you Aemond....if you dare to come near her ever again, I will take your second eye." The king's face turns red as his eyes are now on you. Another shiver runs down your spine, as you could tell how upset he is. You never saw him so angry. "And you...did I give you permission to walk around here freely? Do you think you can do whatever you want without any consequences? Do I have to chain you up until you learn who you belong to?"

The tension is sharp, sharp as a blade who cut someone's throat. You don't dare to contradict him, it's not the right time and moment for it. Aemond stares at his brother for a moment, his smirk never leaves his lips. "Really brother? You think this whore deserve your attention? You would give up our family just for her? Why don't you throw her in a cellar where only we have access to. No one would ever know, not our sister, not our mother and no one else in this castle. It's our little secret under brother's and besides I think our little thief needs to be punished for thinking she can just walk around this castle freely.~"

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴘ ᴜ ʀ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Male Book Heleana Targaryen x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Notes: English is not my first language. Requested by lovely @yghfffyggjj008. Hope you enjoy!

At first, it’s gentle. At first, it feels like love. For Helion, love has always been a quiet thing. He’s always been someone who observes, who listens, who feels. A gentle hand upon a sick child’s forehead. A soft word to comfort someone crying alone in the halls. He was the Targaryen that the people trusted, the one who didn’t desire power or glory—just peace, connection, a sense of belonging.

But the moment he meets you—the one—something shifts inside him. It’s subtle at first, a stirring in his chest that confuses him. He’s always been someone who has kept others at a distance, preferring the company of his own quiet thoughts or those who shared his ideals. But you are different. There’s something about your presence, your smile, the way you speak to him so openly.

It starts innocently, doesn’t it? A shared conversation over the royal gardens, a few lingering glances when you pass by him in the corridors. He begins to want more, not just the superficiality of duty, not just the formalities of a prince and his subject. No, he wants you—all of you. Your thoughts, your fears, your laughter. And soon, he finds himself needing you.

Helion’s obsession with you isn’t loud. It isn’t violent. It doesn’t start with threats or possessiveness—no, that would be too messy for him. Instead, it grows like a quiet poison, slipping into his veins, curling around his heart and mind.

He watches you. Quietly. Subtly. From a distance at first, but it soon becomes something more. When you walk into a room, his eyes find you immediately, like a magnet pulling him to your presence. He lingers in the shadows, watching you interact with others, his expression calm but his mind spiraling with thoughts of what if. What if you looked at him the way you look at them? What if you noticed him more, wanted him the way he wants you?

But he’s patient. He knows how to wait. He’s always been good at waiting, at observing. He doesn’t rush in; he doesn’t force anything. He’s a prince, after all. He knows the rules of court, the games that are played. Instead, he waits for the moment when you need him, when you’ll turn to him for comfort, for guidance, for something—and then he’ll be there, waiting for you to see him as he truly is.

But as time goes on, Helion’s patience begins to slip, and something darker seeps in. He doesn’t want just a part of you; he wants all of you. Every glance, every word, every breath you take. And the thought of you giving that attention to anyone else—anyone else—becomes unbearable.

Helion’s affection, once so pure and gentle, morphs into something possessive, but still, it is quiet. It doesn’t shout. It whispers. Every time you laugh with another man, every time you share a word with someone else, a small, dark part of him tightens, coils, a small feeling of disgust bubbling up in his chest. He tells himself it’s nothing. He tells himself that they don’t matter. But they do. They matter. He watches every interaction, every smile exchanged with someone who isn’t him. He watches and silently marks the way your attention flickers away from him.

You think you’re safe, don’t you? That his devotion is just that—a soft, unassuming thing. But you haven’t seen the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. How his eyes linger just a moment too long, how his hand brushes against yours just a fraction of an inch more than it should, how he holds onto your words like they’re treasures he must protect.

Helion is still not a man of violence. He’s never been that. But you—you—are the one thing in this world that makes him lose control. His love for you is not just a feeling. It is a need. A hunger. And when he feels you slipping away, when you give that smile to someone else, when you laugh with them, not him—when you walk past him without a second glance—it stirs something deep inside him.

It’s quiet at first. A tightness in his chest. An ache he can’t soothe. And then, the darkness wraps itself around his mind like a vice. What if you were his? Truly his, in every sense? What if he could keep you safe, away from the rest of the world’s chaos, from the people who would take you away from him? What if he could keep you forever?

The thought of you with someone else—it burns. He tells himself it’s for your safety. It’s for your protection. You’re too precious to be around people who don’t understand you like he does. They could never see you the way he sees you. They could never care for you the way he does.

Helion isn’t the type to take immediate action, but once he makes his decision, it’s clear. He finds ways to be closer to you—ways that don’t raise suspicion. He arranges moments where you’re alone, where you can speak without others listening. He writes you letters, notes that seem innocuous, but they are heavy with his intent. He’s patient, but when the time comes, he will take you. He’ll have you. And you’ll thank him for it.

There’s no anger in him. No rage. It’s cold, this obsession, almost surgical. He tells you it’s for your own good. That he can’t stand to see you in the hands of anyone else, that the world is too dangerous for you to wander unprotected. He’ll be your protector. Your guardian. Your king.

And when he finally admits his love to you, it will be calm, soft, and dangerous. There will be no plea in his voice, no desperate cry. He’ll simply tell you that you’re meant to be his, that you’ve always been meant for him, and that now, you have no choice but to be with him.

In his mind, it’s pure. It’s the only way to protect you. The only way to truly love you.

And you—you—will come to understand that.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Book Aegon vs Yandere Show Aegon in arguments with their darling—

Yandere Book Aegon: "I killed your maid because she touched what is mine. How many times do I have to tell you this? You aren't allowed to have any personal maids. I am the only one allowed to help you bathe and clothe yourself."

Reader: "You stripped her of her skin and put her head on a spike. A bit excessive, no?"

Yandere Book Aegon: "No, not excessive in the least."

Reader: Just gives up because if they argue more, they'll end up unable to walk for a few days.

—

Reader: "You had Sunfyre burn my Kingsguard to a crisp—"

Yandere Show Aegon: "No."

Reader: "What do you mean 'no'?"

Yandere Show Aegon: "I did not command Sunfyre to do so. It was simply an act of passion on my behalf."

Reader: "Do it again with my next guard and I'll deprive you of love and attention for a day. Do you understand?"

Yandere Show Aegon: "... Yes, ma'am."

—

In conclusion, Book Aegon is daddy. Show Aegon needs his mommy.

[aphroditelovesu]

Can I request general headcanons for yandere Jacaerys Velaryon? ❤️

''You are my whole world.'' — Jacaerys Velaryon.

❝ 🐉 — lady l: I had this saved in my drafts for a while and only remembered after I got into it lol, it was practically finished. But anyway, I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! I'm not going to lie, Jace was my favorite character in this second season.🥺

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotectiveness, mention of kidnapping and imprisonment, toxic relationships and perhaps a bit soft yandere.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!jacaerys velaryon x gender neutral!reader.

Jacaerys Velaryon is a born worshiper, deeply in love and devoted to his beloved. His feelings are pure and healthy at first; he desires only good, happiness and your security. However, the losses that occurred from the beginning of the Dance of Dragons affected him deeply. Over time, Jace becomes increasingly smothering and overprotective, reaching the point where your needs no longer matter, only your safety.

Jace just wants your good, your safety and your love. He's not sure when his feelings became so strong, he just knows he has to keep you protected at all costs. You have become the center of his world and he will be damned if he lets you be taken away from him. Not that he's going to let that happen.

He is so devoted and loyal, you will always be put first, your needs will be met beforehand and anything you want, he will do. He is yours to command, just as you are his to love and protect.

Jacaerys devotion transcends the limits of ordinary love. From the beginning, his affection is genuine and deep, a burning flame that illuminates every aspect of his life. He dedicates himself entirely to his darling, placing you at the center of his universe and shaping his actions and decisions around your well-being.

Jacaerys, if given the opportunity, will keep you trapped somewhere. He knows it's not ideal, but he's willing to do anything to not lose you, including locking you up somewhere safe that only he and people he trusts can access. He will deal with all your anger as long as you are unharmed.

Over time, Jace begins to show obsessive worry. He starts to watch your every step, always present and attentive as if any distraction could result in a tragedy. His intensity is palpable, and he becomes a constant presence, like a dragon that never rests and is always alert.

At first, it may seem like an expression of his deep love, but it quickly becomes apparent that his behavior is more than simple protection. He begins to isolate you from friends and family, believing that anyone could pose a threat. He argues that the world is too dangerous and that only he can guarantee your safety.

He will isolate you from everything and everyone so that you, in the end, trust and become completely dependent on him. Jace will feel guilty about this, especially when he looks into your eyes, but he can't help it. Just the thought of losing you is too much for him to handle.

Jace continues to treat you with extreme affection. He does everything to meet your needs, anticipating your desires and trying to compensate for your loss of freedom with displays of affection and dedication. He sincerely believes he is acting out of love, even though he realizes his behavior is suffocating you.

In addition to his overwhelming overprotectiveness, Jace is extremely possessive of you. Although he tries not to show off too much, he feels jealous very often and may become more harsh and controlling when this happens. He will never hurt you but he doesn't want to and won't accept being replaced or left in the background. You belong to him and only him.

Despite his growing possessiveness, Jace maintains an unwavering loyalty. He is willing to sacrifice anything, including his own happiness, to ensure the well-being of his beloved. His devotion manifests itself in an absolute commitment, where he puts your needs and desires in the background, always prioritizing your safety.

Jacaerys Velaryon has your desires in his heart and he wants your good and your happiness, but he is willing to sacrifice them for your safety. He knows it's not right, he's not that delusional, but the fear of losing you makes him make unconventional decisions. Jace will deal with whatever comes of these actions, as long as you are safe and alive. It will all be worth it as long as he sees you breathe.

[thatscruelsummer]

visenya and maegor

[missglaskin]

I don't know how people never thought of this before, but I'm pretty sure Aemon Targaryen, son of Jaehaerys, has a size kink. Look how tall this man is, he can intimidate anyone

For this to work the reader is described as short and also afab 

Oh, he definitely has it, he’s described as standing at 6’2. You can see how he takes delight at times in teasing you of your height, watching as you struggle to reach for something before stepping in to assist, or that smug smile of his when you have to tiptoe to reach him for a kiss. 

He starts to notice the impact it has on himself- how easily he can tower over you, how small your hands feel against his as he fucks you. Allowing you time to adjust to his size, "too big" you would whimper as you squeezed his hand all while he praises you for taking him so well.

Aemon doesn’t like harming you; he’s a gentle lover. However, he enjoys the subtle control it gives him over you. How easy it is for him to crush you under his weight, aligning his hips with yours as he viciously hits your sweet spot. How easy it is to corner you against the wall, too eager that he'll hastily undo his belts and trousers to free his cock. His long fingers dig into your skin as he lifts your leg to his waist with his other hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hi, can i ask for romantic yandere aemond and platonic yandere alicent where both of them are obsessed with maid/handmaiden reader

Framed by sapphire and crown

Aemond x maid!reader x Alicent

warning : yandere behavior, obsesison, kissing, gevives = beauty ( i hope it is correct)

Summary : A dragon and a crown. A prince and a queen. Two people of the royal family who had their eyes on a maiden. A maiden without a voice who would be listened to when such powerful people were courting each other. The dragon wrapped its wings around her and the queen's commands were like an invisible bond that could not be severed…she was nothing more than the love and purity they both hoped to receive.

info : thank you for the request dear anon i hope you and the others like it oh yes yander is already good to write and i am so excited for season 2 have fun reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was actually a nobody when you looked at the castle. She was a nobody without an important house, a small house with several vassals over her father's skin, but that was it.

No riches, treasures, ships, warriors or even dragons. A simple house with two knights and tournament victories several decades back that ensured that she eventually came to court.

But in the face of the crown she was a nobody, there was no command like Viserys could carry out, no grace like the queen, no strength like Ser Criston or steadfastness like the princess of the kingdom and heir to the throne.

She was a nobody here and there when she was needed, mostly in the chambers of the roxylaen people to clean, make the beds and occasionally bring the food. Until the day she heard the prince's voice, ,,My mother the queen would have you as her personal and my maid…such an opportunity should be accepted should it not be Gevives?" a simple question a word in Valyrian she could not speak and all she had left as she looked into the sapphire and violet eyes was a faint, ,,Yes my prince".

An answer she had no control over since the prince had grown older he had changed. As a child, when they were both still children, she always kept him company at his command, even then she couldn't say, ,,Let's play monsters and maidens, my lady," he suggested, and even then she hadn't been able to say no.

She had nodded then, her little white cap on her head, which protected her hair, was usually lost when she fled from the dragon monster. She had never claimed the title of Lady, probably never, but he was kind and had always called her that when they were together.

Some moments were so…loving and fun, if you always disregarded the command. Hiding well was very good even in the corners and he ran past her.

She still remembered when he stopped on the ground and looked at her hood and picked up the fabric He's smilin" she thought she still thought when he touched her fabric a part of her, a part where her body had been.

One thing that hadn't changed even now, years later. she still felt his hands on her clothes, his fingers running over the fabric of her simple dress, searching for the places where his lips had pressed against her and brushing over them. ,,The maiden still hasn't fled from the monster…for love isn't it?" a question she knew, a question he always gave her with a smile, a smile they both knew she couldn't deny.

Who could deny someone like that, apart from the fact that she had to because of his blood, he was beautiful. Like a dragon himself, he took her in. His was so much more handsome than the king, his voice never raised, always calm and almost lullingly friendly.

His rough yet gentle fingers stroking her, touching places she should have kept him from and yet one look into his eyes and it seemed as if the dragon would wrap its wings around her and devour her.

It was like a bird in a cage, a princess in a tower, or a maiden trapped under the command of the prince and his mother the queen. As soon as the question had left his lips she looked at him, his gloved fingers stroking her cheek always gently never roughly and yet demanding a ,,Yes my prince" from her and he drew back with a contented kiss on her lips and in the same breath footsteps came down the corridor.

Footsteps that belonged to a green dress, brown long hair on whose head lay a golden crown and dark eyes that held a hint of almost obsession. ,,My maiden, to find you here, did the prince want something from you?" Alicent asked as she knew very well when her son had to leave to fulfill duties, when she could enter the room and when she had to turn the key in the lock.

It was like a tower, the queen's symbol, a tower into which she locked the maiden with gestures and words and, at the end, with commands, just like her son.

She didn't know when it started, maybe after she let her eyes wander through the castle, seeing their faces and looks, but instead of the hoped-for salvation, even after she begged for forgiveness on her knees in front of the queen.

But all she got was a gentle smile and a look that told her that the golden crown had long since sat on her head with drones and would not let her go.

Alicent put her hands on her maid's cheeks and the hood she was supposed to wear was of course gone, taken away again by Aemond, as was the lacing. ,,I will not allow you to be disgraced and shamed, dear, you have my word," the queen said as her fingers stroked her cheek and twisted the strands of hair.

The prince was like his mother, both had something they wanted so badly. She knew that the prince wanted her love, her boundless love that he otherwise didn't have.

Maybe her body too, but he was too gentle for that, but he could be cruel when he didn't hesitate to attack his own brother Aegon and his guard Criston with the sword. ,,They don't deserve to see you like this my flower…I deserve everything from you and only me" was his simple reply as he kissed her trembling hands as she tried to get away from the room where Aegon had locked her in and Criston was guarding the door.

The sound of swords clashing and cursing was enough to spook her, but the look on his face as he came through the door, the madness disappearing when he saw her, was creepy and yet engaging.

He changed just for her. He would always show her his love, always with the blood of his enemies still on his sword. Similar to his mother.

The queen who always sent for her maid when her son was away. The look full of gentleness and always advised with new clothes to cover the obvious gestures of her son, ,,You are in my debt forever little flower" a simple sentence with weight that she could do whatever she wanted.

Dress her maiden in green, undress her and put her in simple robes, comb her hair or have her hair combed. It didn't matter, but the younger girl couldn't shake the feeling of a mother who wanted to be a younger version of herself again.

It didn't matter and yet that soft sad smile when Alicent held her close, stroked her back and quietly shed tears she always said, ,,Forgive me for everything I just need everything once" words that the maid always said and the younger one always said with a shaky, ,,Of course my queen" to the older one while she felt the hands on her that wouldn't let her go.

They were hands she would not let go of, lips that would always kiss her, eyes that would always watch her, emotions that she always had to return. But she would not be free, not free from the obsessive love of the prince and the queen who wanted to take her over.

Because in the end, she was nothing more than a wallflower surrounded by dragons and gold who would do with her as they pleased and the only thing she could do was hope that they wouldn't tear out all her pretty petals once they were tired of her.

[its-actually-minicika]

Dragon Sickness

Part 2;

Pairing: Bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader;

Warnings: No usage of Y/N, bookcanon Greens, potential spoilers for Fire&Blood (but not really), dubious consent, allusions to sex, to male masturbation and oral from Aemond (female receiving - he just wants to tickle your pickle with his fingers and mouth but yk), slight angst, minor and major character death, vague descriptions of death by asphyxiation;

For the sake of keeping characters as close to canon as I can, the eye that Aemond lost was his right, not his left!

Word Count: 7k+;

Author's Note: Repost because yeah...

Reblogs would be really appreciated, since I believe I was shadowbanned :") ♡

Sorry for taking so long with getting this next part out ♡ I wanted to make sure it's perfect (or as close to perfect as I can get it), because the last thing I desire is to post something I'm not proud of/I wouldn't personally read :")

This gif was made by the love of my life and the moon to my sun - @aemondx here on Tumbr ♡ if you aren't already following her, definitely follow her right now now. I'll wait. The story will wait. She is absolutely amazing, and the sweetest person ever.

I also dedicate this chapter to my literal soulmate @diamantesprincess , who beta-read this whole shit-storm for me, and supported my insane antics ♡

Young girls dream about their wedding day. And women prepare themselves for the humiliation bestowed upon them by the raptures of the night.

Her cheeks flushed with the expectancy that was thrown before her – the avid sting that prickled her skin, flooded her veins and broke her soul. She could feel her smooth-green gown stick to her contorted form. The horrid fires of lashing out already licking at the corners of her downturned mouth.

The Velaryon thus swallowed thickly, whilst flickering her eyes by nigh to each corner of the squaring table. She needn’t glance into the silver plating to ensure what she had known, simply owed to the salacious heat that downed her heart in poisoned terror. How vexing it had been for her to hear the former Queen about – darting to her wedding night, hinting at her lack of purity. How terribly uncertain she’d felt, when Aemond all but abandoned her on that rueful and exerting night.

She’d searched feverishly for his company, trying to converse with him, to allude him to take interest, to inspire him to like her. But her attempts were answered with indifference, with clumsy lines of conversations, which never led her far in musings.

“– Even so, I trust that you understand your duty.”

She couldn’t have been quiet for long. For she felt how her mouth lulled opened, if only to blurt out a passive admission to Alicent’s extended words. Still she felt the decades pass, turning her old, and mean, and cold, as an ample flood of pain engulfed her sparring and incisive heart. The Queen Dowager sighed, either by lack of blitheness or by wry exhaustion, and merely shook her head at the sight of the conflicted bastard.

She supposed she should be grateful – for a private bedding brought across no prying eyes upon her form, upon her skin and womanhood; upon the shame she would soon feel, to spread her legs for the Qybor who slayed her kin. But a private bedding meant she'd have to be alone with him. A private bedding was unsafe, for it meant her maiden blood wouldn't have to be the one staining their rivetting sheets. And Aemond had killed men before, his flesh and blood, innocent spawn – so was there anything that would ensure he wouldn't cut her very throat?

A silent tear obscured her view, and one of Helaena’s beetles boldly flew nearby her plate.

Satin green and oryx white, silky blue and striking violet.

To be born a female was a wright cursed account.

Upon her birth, she belonged to her father. And when he died, she fitted Daemon. She suited to her brother, Jace, to the whims of the New Seven, and very soon to those of Aemond.

When she was young, her Septa was the one to tell her the story of her feeble birth – how she was good and quaint and quiet, how she had not ensued hard labour. How her mother cried when she saw her small and portly face. And how she sighed with half restraint at the notion of her naked sex.

To be born the cursed sex stripped one of their whole autonomy.

Benevolence was to be found within the weakness of a poor female.

‘The girls are easier than the boys,’ The woman nodded as she spoke, ‘They're less rowdy and quick to anger. Easier to marry, too.’

To be born a female meant a deconstructive marriage. Simply something that must happen, not a matter of debate.

To be born a female meant fantasizing about that marriage. Salaciously filling your head with hopeful dreams of charming knights, or handsome princes and comely lords.

To be born a female was underestimated work. Work put up by sons and fathers, whose sole purpose of providing to the girl they had to care for was to find her a good husband.

A future to be predecided, set in stone and judged throughout – all in valour of a missing cock, and a lack of tiny stones.

When Rhaenyra married Daemon, she was happy for her loving mother.

‘I want to be just as beautiful on my wedding day!’ Her voice chirped through the halls of Dragonstone, whilst rotating about the room, chased by an ongoing Jace, ‘We’ll have a pigeon cake the size of a young hatchling, and a venue bigger than that made of the smallfolk of King’s Landing!’

‘Maybe one that smells better, though,’ Jace snickered inside her ear, earning a brisk tickle from his younger sister, ‘But you’re right, my darling sister, it’s better to stay realistic!’

A loud fit of giggles erupted from the waiting children. Rhaenyra only glanced at Daemon, who in turn shook his head, bemused by her swallowing visions.

‘Whatever prompts you to even believe your mother and I will allow such a thing?’ The Rogue Prince graced her with a trumping smirk, as the girl’s face fell to a slouch.

‘I’ll have to get married one day!’ She rebutted her stepfather, ‘With a strong knight in shining armour, or a chivalrous Lord from an important House!’

‘I would be very careful with what I want,’ He mimicked a serious and grieving tone, ‘So far you could only marry Tyland Lannister or Kermit Tully!’

‘There will be yet some time before that happens, sweet girl.’ Rhaenyra grinned at her daughter’s eagerness, pushing down the rotten feeling that gnawed beneath her bludgeon gown. She placed her hand atop her cheek and gingerly grazed the youth’s plumpness with a soft, motherly touch. ‘A couple of years from now on, at best!’ She hummed into her tender caress and opened her mouth to speak again, 'till Jacaerys’ mellow voice cut the base of her new words.

Her eyes widened to the size of two round plates, and the young Velaryon merely scrunched her nose up in dissatisfaction. ‘Kermit wouldn’t be that bad…’ She tried to reason with herself, ‘And his sister, Celia, is very nice! We would get along quite well.’

‘Of course, of course –’ Jace nodded in understanding, before throwing Luke a mischievous look, ‘Or you could always marry Aemond – he’d be quite a match, you know!”

Silence ensued for a while, until all three children broke down in their hysteric fits of laughter.

‘Oh, Gods be good…!’ She murmured lowly, shock and aversion evident on her once impatient face.

She’d found herself someone who loved her, someone whom she could amply trust. A man that’d be reliant for her, in her times of greatest fraught.

When the War of Ravens first ensued, it was he and her small brothers who went to deliver envoys. When Luke died, it was he who mended and arranged the curdling scheme of Blood and Cheese. And when Aemond took a hold of Harrenhal, cruelly burning at their allies’ lands… it was he who gave his life in an attempt to free their folk.

“Gods be good…!” Her voice strained through the musings of her handmaiden, so preoccupied with lacing up her constricting and excessive corset. “Could you go in any tighter?” Her snapping question deterred the young girl to remove her calloused hands from the fine silks that engulfed her. All of the other women who tended to her hair and eyes took a backwards convoluted step and, as if whipped across the face and wholly burnt by dragon fire, they froze up in minute poses – all of them gripping their hands, and looking down in taught submission.

Breathless and submerged in bashness, her reddened lips pressed to a line, as her gaze followed their in suit, falling on the stone below her.

“I’m sorry,” She began with a taut pitch, while expelling one of her brisk and tantalising breaths, “I didn’t mean to shout at you. That was below any level of discretion.”

"W-Would you like us to continue, Your Grace?" One of the older-looking wenches dared to ask the fair Velaryon.

No, she ached to bring herself to say, I'd stay like this, still half-undressed. Unpresentable for him to take.

"Of course," Her meek voice echoed in reply, "You must make haste to get me ready. The wedding is in but an hour."

Tens of dozen of pairs of hands flooded her every sensation with their ceaseless and insistent prodding. The softest of the cluster played with the slicked ends of her charcoal hair, adorning it with a myriad of pins and jewels, grazing her scalp with heavy and relenting hairstyles. Now there was prudence in her tying corset – as if she were a rabid beast who’d sink her claws into their necks, if only she’d feel indisposed by their way of picked-up working.

For the first time since her ladies swarmed into her darkened chamber, the girl’s leer settled on the gown before her. She took in a quick breath through the margins of her teeth, whilst feeling her stomach wail and churn with an unkept overzeal.

Her dress was of a deep set black, which seemed more fitting for a funeral than for a joyous feast precarred soon after by a most imposing wedding. Yet upon a closer look, the brims which laced its puffy bottoms smiled to her in rueful red.

Surprise etched upon her face, and the coy women must have noticed, for they all stopped forthwith again. She brought a hand to the light fabric, and grazed it slowly with her fingers.

She almost hummed in chasmal worry, before fixating her eyes away.

“Apologies, but who told you to bring this dress?” Her voice reverberated with a faint but levelled question, and a retort came back her way.

“The Prince Aemond, Your Grace,” What she assumed was a slight seamstress replied for the whole gathering, “He requested that his vest should also bear your House’s symbols.”

Surprise merged with upheld amusement, until her judgement simmered down to a least lenient of views – since the Blacks were there no more, what point was there for an exorbant gown with any shades of ghastly Green?

No matter his good-hearted message, Aemond hadn’t done it for her. Just like Alicent hadn’t proposed a marriage with her son for her clemented and invested sake.

There was no more point for her to wear his sickly green. There was no reason for the usurpers to display their endless rows of utter power.

Her family was dead. All she knew had gone with them – swallowed wholly by the sea, or by Sunfyre, by Vhagar.

“I see,” Her vocal cords strained with her roughened and perturbed reply, “It’s very beautiful,” She whispered not a heartbeat later, as she turned to the appraised seamstress, “Thank you. You must have worked very hard.”

As everyone resumed their tasks, a trailing truth pierced through her heart – she now had no family left to lead her to the Greater Sept.

His collar fell too tight on him.

He noticed late, as she approached him.

He swallowed thickly once before her, as his burnt brother gripped her hand.

Her softened smile lit up her face, though the disgust within her eyes unveiled her sickly mild facade. A rattled thought surged through his chest, mending with akin distraught. He knew full well she didn’t love him, but at the least, he’d have to try. The subtlety of her rejection stabbed right through his nervous gut, but still the Prince looked down upon her, gracing her with a half-smile.

The ease with which she then returned it relieved the throbbing underneath his leather patch, and as she mouthed him her timid greeting, the man bowed deeply in reply.

“You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection.” The Septon’s voice instructed deeply, snapping both out of their trance.

His calloused fingers unclasped the belts from his broad and heaving shoulders – the cape fell heavily into his hands, yet Aemond still approached his Lady, and placed the Targaryen embroidered mantle atop her tense and fragile shoulders.

Brown eyes clashed with an unnerving lilac – both bride and groom sucked in a breath, and yet refused to look away.

The silence of the Sept was deadly, and as Aemond closed his eye, allowing his relentless thoughts to slip into a hurried prayer, he swore that every witness to their union would hear the keen beats of his heart.

The High Septon clasped his wrinkled hands together, drawing a faint and muffled noise which reverberated through the clearing – signalling to the lost children to place their hands into the other’s.

His Lady was the first to reach him. Shyly she grazed his palm with the smooth padding of her index finger, flattering an anxious probe which distilled his wilted heart, and brought heat into his cheeks.

Her small diversion urged him to press back into her – with a doubting and reserved caress made with his thicker middle finger.

The man bit into his inner cheek, as he aligned his palm to hers, and waited patiently for the Septon to bind their hands with the white linen.

“In sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity.”

Her thumb gently caressed his own in an attempt to soothe his breaths. Though her smile had broadened yet, her eyebrows twisted to a brazen furrow. The old man hummed with unturned patience, and he nodded at their leisured and unhurried movements.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

His chest tightened with unruly pride, as her cheeks flushed with a deep colour, which grew to match the lacings of her fitted cobbler – both took a moment to compose themselves, before Aemond’s voice filled the room with the silk-smooth baritone of his levelled and protruding tone.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” His lone orb swirled with both uncertainty and desire, as her own voice ushered him suit, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

Her chest heaved with a weighty exhale, and her pushed bosom shifted in her dainty dress. Abashed by his sexual intrusion, Aemond focused his left eye on the shape of her inviting lips.

Though they said the words in unison, only her better half beset his ears, “I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day, until the end of my days,” The Targaryen hushed in return.

Thousand of cheers erupted in the Great Sept, and Aegon even whistled lowly, but nought of the crowd’s boastful words engrained themselves into his mind.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

His mouth pressed hungrily against her own, with a force and desperation that dispersed her every hope for a chaste, intimate peck. The shape of his lips moulded against her with an ease that left her wanting – wanting for it to end, for him to stop, for him to keep going.

His scent invaded her diluted senses, and flashes of her brothers’ faces danced across her hazy view. And just as Aemond was about to deepen and take his uncouth ministrations further, the greying Septon interjected with a subtle but alluding cough.

Despite the fact that he refused to speak to her since the incursive night of their engagement, the palpable need and excitement that seemingly had gathered in him burst for all high lords and petty maidens to see. Coveting whispers reached the girl’s reddened ears – each muttered truth more beguiling than the last.

‘A Kinslayer and a bastard… what an ill match for the grandeur of the Great Sept.’

With her mouth slightly agape and her breath still somewhat staggered, the former Velaryon avoided his stare, with an adamant and willful steer.

Her own eyes began to water. And the aching sadness that curled into her vrying soul muted out any reminder of the crowd’s elated boasts.

What had happened was now irreversible; and the Greens would host a banquet in honour of the newlyweds. Goblets would drown her violent sorrows, food would fill them like fattened-up pigs for cutting.

Aemond would breach her with his cock if he felt disposed to do it. Then he might smother her face, or cut her throat with the same dagger that he used on her late brother.

For why else would he deny a prim and proper bedding ceremony?

Though her eyes still looked at him, and a smile still spurred her lips, the girl swallowed down a prayer.

Perhaps he had grown to like her. She’d been good to him in those past weeks.

The High Septon yelled over the cheering crowd, cutting down each thought that breached through her weary and misguided mind.

“Let it be known that they are now one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!”

Then cursed be she, in the light of the Seven.

The dizzying nature of the fifth waltz of the night left everyone in the Great Hall drained and panting – fully taken by the mistifying anticipation caused by the encapsulating ardour of Prince Aemond’s wedding reception. Roaring applauses erupted from the few women seated at the high tables – Aegon’s eyes followed the wanton skirts of the lowborn maidens, and even Helaena disregarded her fattened caterpillar to grace the crowd with her absent-minded stare.

At the centre of the King’s table stood the Court’s styled “star-crossed lovers”, each seemingly preoccupied with avoiding any further dancing at any and all occuring costs.

The girl’s fingers traced over the rim of the wine goblet, glancing from time to time at her newly acquired husband, who seemed hammered in his seat and not at all wanting for chatter. The dim lighting of the candled room sprawled its shadows all across his tired features, which loomed all the more sharp and perusing with each notion of a passing hour. His lack of joyful disposition was clear and evident for all to see – for even his contented mother had chastised him under her breath.

Alas, any notion of stability had at large been long repressed, and not even her able chirping managed to pry at her son’s attention.

As her eyes trailed lower yet, over the arch of his broad chest, and the poignant veins of his clenched fist, the Targaryen gasped at the obvious arousal restrained in his black leather pants. Her face turned promptly to the side, before anyone’s conviction should follow her indiscreet trail.

Another smile graced her red lips, as a very drunkened Lord tripped across her narrow view. He approached her with bemusing boldness, borne out of believed renown, and introduced himself as Quince Webber: a lower lord within the Reach, ‘right across the Arbour seat’. His puffy face was basked in red, an indication of his mind’s plied state – and as he blabbered on his woven lapses on what wedded life should be, the Lady bowed her head with grace, thus managing to stop his spiel.

He slurred over his predicted wordings in a heavy and relentless breath, but still managed to congratulate the twain for their well-thought-out alliance.

“Thank you, my Lord, I am indeed very lucky.” Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling, but still she forced herself to laugh, “Aemond has been very kind to me.” She turned to face his stare, abashed, and allowed her hand to touch him. The charcoal leather of his broidered vest burnt her at the faintest touch, and the girl had to stifle a gasp at the arid heat which charred her palm.

“He has, he has!” The lord of Coldmoat agreed well-pleased. A wolfish grin spread across his droopy face, pulling both his plump cheeks higher. An impish laugh beleft his lips, as he took a swing of liquor from a nearby empty glass.

The corner of her smiling eye darted back to that of Aemond, who merely glanced through the drunk lord with a horriedly vexated look.

“Although,” He teased them with a slurred hic, “I can’t say he’ll be nice to you when the bedding ceremony will ensue!”

Wholeheartedly amused at his inappropriate and shrivelled joke, the old man began to laugh, much to Aemond’s disarray.

His fists came into contact with the sprawled-out wooden table, shaking every cutlery which remained scattered across it. The lively whispering of the Great Hall ceased with his vicious display, and even his contented brother jerked his shoulders in dismay.

“Aemond,” Alicent spat out his name, as her face turned cold and wary. “Perhaps it’s time you two retire.”

A restless snarl etched from his throat, and he looked ready to pounce – were it not for the soft hand that touched him, and the sanity utter of her voice, which managed to somewhat reground him, and contort poor Webber’s choice.

But as cruel fate would weave and have it, another end would spend their night.

“Aemond,” His Lady tried to coax him in, “Let’s listen to your mother… please?” Her fevered eyes adamantly searched for his, until a strange yearning and passion registered on his reluctant face. His hand gripped hers in pure devotion, and his large thumb ran over her flaring knuckles, as she'd done so many times before for him.

The lord’s lost face painted over with uncouth excitement, and he turned his back around, almost hitting Daeron’s face.

“It’s time for the bedding ceremony!” He announced the crowd quite loudly, and tens of voices of plastered men rose with every passing second. Some of them swarmed close to the couple, some tried to pick the girl from her leering resting place. Most barely launched up their feet, struggling to uphold their balance.

“There will be no bedding ceremony tonight.” Aemond’s dark and frigid voice thundered through the cluttered hall. Women sighed in great relief, while the men and boys began to bicker.

“It’s tradition!”

“I’ve been told specifically that it would take place.”

“Such stupidity!”

“I bet Renly six gold dragons that –”

“The King long announced there would be none.” Otto’s otherwise calm voice resounded with a harshened tone.

“Has he now?” A slurring lord took three wide steps in the direction of the pressured lady. Her whole face morphed into preleened discomfort, as she placed both her hands upfront. “Oh, don’t you even think about it…!” She warned him with a throaty hiss, but before his hand could graze her, Aemond grabbed his arching fists.

When his nervous gaze settled on his face, he smiled.

The lord clawed at his darkened neck, for Aemond forced him in a kneeling stance, and wrapped his hands around his throat. The timber in his chilling voice rained affront with his obduring malice, sending a shiver down the bent spines of the mere on-watchers, “You wish to gaze upon my wife tonight, Lord Ashford?” The callous ends of his slim digits dug into his purple skin, “You want to see her naked form, and compare her dripping sex to your own wife’s loosened cunny?”

The older man opened his mouth – but the pressure on his wielded neck impedimented his speaking manner and, much like a fish that’d been hoisted out of water, he could barely form a word.

“N…No-n-no – I’m s-s-”

“You’re sorry?” His eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. His wails of anguish pierced his heart – and yet his grip didn't uncurl. “You’re sorry now, are you?”

“Aemond, that is enough!” Alicent’s chastising shouts failed to break his unsound trance. Among the mistifying flock of ladies, the Velaryon stood high, but frozen. Her parlous specks of deep brown eyes bore into the shocking scene, as her own transfigured hand prodded at her covered neck.

"You've heard, perhaps, what happened with little Luke Strong, the bastard.” Her own eyes widened at his cruel retorts, and her deft fist grabbed at her skirts. Despite it being aimed to scare the stupid and unbashful lord, Aemond’s dicey did nought else but expose her to the whole crowd whole.

The heated blade of loss and ire impaled her through her aching chest, cutting both her breath and temper and deterring her to simply shake.

“– I'll gouge your eyes out and present them as a wedding gift to my wife."

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon.

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn.

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

“I-I’m b– begging you–”

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon –

“Then beg. Beg my wife for her forgiveness.”

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn –

“My L– My Lady, p-please…!”

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

Mother, mother, mother, mother –

“Please, Aemond, stop! Just stop!” Her own voice screeched into the balling clearing, as the sound of breaking bones and the smell of copper blood menged right through her very veins. “Stop. It’s enough. It’s alright. I’m alright. Please–”

Her panicked breathing flooded her ears. Her lack of presence drowned her in.

Her husband threw her an affrighted look, as he instantly let go of the man’s entwisted neck.

He crawled closer to his own wife’s feet. His piqued-up breathing staggered for a brief momentum.

For two or three seconds they waited.

And then quietness enwrapped the Realm.

Her honeyed voice had reached his ears.

"We're man and wife now, you and I.” She began with a faint murmur, and a small smile on her lips, “We must start talking to each other. Eventually, I mean."

She spoke to him in utter earnest, despite her voice’s nervous edge.

Alas he must not have replied to her, for her body shifted in her narrow seat, ducking away from him in recluded and uptight tension. “I’d like there to be no secrets between us – I’d like for us to tell each other whatever happens to be on our mind.”

The alluring scent of her dark hair, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders…

His breathing turned close to erratic, as he morphed his hands to fists. But two waltzes he had danced with her, before he felt his breeches tighten, bringing forth his quaint undoing.

He would have stayed in bitter silence, focused on the passing hours – were it not for the unlucky words that the brittle lord had uttered.

Oh, and how she looked into his eye; full of shock and brittle terror.

She must have been scared of him. For she was shaking like a leaf.

The walk to their marital chamber loomed with ever-pressing silence.

If only he could read her thoughts – then he might just mend his error.

“I rather liked the pigeon pie.” Her voice came out as weak and gruff, “Though it was far too big for those at present.”

When his answer wouldn’t beckon, the Lady turned and closed her eyes. She snapped her head in his direction, faltering her present smile. “I think that what you did was very chivalrous and brave, my Prince.”

The corner of his left eye widened, as her words registered in. The margins of her flimsy skirts kissed the ground atop her form – the swish and flicker of the candles remained the only source of noise.

The corners of his mouth bent slightly, at her ludicrous but fair assertion. Whether he had meant to thank her, or kiss her on that very spot, the Prince failed to puzzle out. Though his step halted in place, and his face turned briskly to her.

“Aemond,” He sighed, reluctant, whilst awaiting for her change of heart, “You said it yourself, we’re man and wife. You should start calling me Aemond.”

Her daring eyes looked up right through him, dissolving to a kindred stare. “Then you should also use my name… Aemond.” She uttered with a playful tone, testing his name upon her lips. “Though I… much prefer it when you call me ‘wife’.”

His reply was fast, forthright, “I’ll call you whatever you wish.”

“Then…” She began with a weak mutter, allowing her hair to hide her face, “No, forgive me, never mind.”

“Tell me,” He commanded with grave urgency.

Tell me of anything and I will make it yours.

“Mayhaps,” His Lady paused a while again, “You’d agree to call me your ‘dear wife’?”

His cock twitched inside his pants. The blood that pigmented his face descended lower in its lax pursuit.

All that you need do is ask.

“Anything you want,” His voice rumbled in a breathless timber before he could stop himself, “Dear wife.”

She must have thanked him with a smile again. All she did those days was smile.

She smiled when that low lord approached her. She smiled at her engagement feast. She smiled when Aemond took her dancing.

“I trust,” Alicent had swallowed deeply, “That your mother already taught you what’ll occur after the wedding.”

Better said during the bedding. When she’d be forced to spread her legs for the one man who’d damned them all.

She smiled when Aegon named her bastard. She smiled at the mention of her sweet dead brother.

She hummed as she touched her fingers, rotating her golden rings.

“What of Aly Blackwood?” Her eyes pried at her heavy conscience, “You said that if I marry Aemond, you’d think of a way to release her and make peace with Benjicot’s House.”

–

Her trail of thought was pulled before her, like a feeble dream which she won't reach.

The handle of a leaden door was yanked, pulsing the quaint hall with clatter, and basking her with a warm light.

“We’re here.”

Though wailing dread flooded her senses, her voice came out in slight bemusement.

“It isn’t furnished.”

“I wanted you to have a say.” The depthness of his mellow tune carried out his crass remark, “I didn’t know how many dresses you’d have.”

The notion of her moving in, of sleeping side by side with him, of sharing a bed and a mattress and a bath with him – it hadn’t failed to make her snort.

Hidden from his plane of sight, she allowed a distant scowl to break in her pretty features.

She wanted to scream and shout. To lash out in grave disconcern the moment his revolting hands came in contact with her lower back, urging her to step inside. She wanted to laugh at him – at the sight of his scarred face, his forceful probe and lack of honour.

“You’re so thoughtful, Aemond. Thank you.”

A grave unease surged in her gut. Pure fright prickled at the apex of her thighs. Her once loose dress seemed to constrict her form from running – from hitting him over the head and at last make her escape.

A pained sigh escaped his lips – the One-Eyed Prince who killed her family.

The Kinslayer. The Trident’s Terror. The Prince Protector of the Realm.

Almost as if he could sense her worry, the lithe Targaryen beckoned her in.

There’d been a moment when he only looked at her, bearing holes into her face and the front lobe of her skull, as his thick brows twisted slightly, jarring in misguided silence. Her jaw clenched involuntarily, as his face hithered in closer. She closed her eyes for two, three seconds, before she opened them again.

The lack of ease with which he gawped at her would have dearly made her laugh. The great and feared Aemond Targaryen, so incursed, taken aback.

He exhaled deeply in connived frustration, and simply took a few steps back. A rumbled hum of welting havoc trailed behind his high-arched lips, and a simple look of ardour was engraved on his sharp face.

The hands which had been snaked around her let her go within an instant, and as a curse sprung from his throat, the man found refuge and retreat towards the blazing fireplace. The girl followed his lenient steps, which faltered near the goatskin armchair.

His hands moved in accord with stress. Stiffly he had poured himself a hefty glass of liquid courage – swallowing it down with haste, and indifference towards the spectacle that he made with his demeanour.

His hands were shaking. His gulps of dark and bitter wine accentuated with every guise of stolen looks he dared to throw and hatch her way. At one point through his fretful jitter, the Prince snapped with a scorned hiss.

"Do you reckon you need help with your black dress, my dearest wife?” The rattled edge within his voice echoed through the room's long walls – his tone was mystified by pain, by torturous need, and want, and lust.

"N-No, my love, that I do not." She tried with shear to reach her lacings, as her mouth quirked with a smile. The desolation in her orbs spun the man to heave a sigh – his wobbled hand to reach his collar, and pull at it with forced renown.

Multitudes of scattered feelings reveled on her softened face – pain and fear, disgust and anger, lack of confidence and broad distress.

Inch by inch she thus revealed patches of her creamy skin. Feeling all her fingers stiffen with perturbed stilling discomfort, shame and angst and staid mistrust.

Although her corset was now loosened, the source of air within her lungs remained scarce and all the same.

She maintained his carnal stare, watching how his one eye darkened, turning to an opaque black. His lips pressed into a line, his furrowed brows deepened his stare – he gulped another hoist of wine and swallowed thickly at her chaffing stare. His adam's apple bobbed up and down in repressed bewilderment and apt surrender. His weary mind surged with a vast contrast of thoughts, each one more torturous and sparse than the mentioned fleeting latter.

He felt utterly inadequate.

He'd touched and fucked women before – handmaidens that caught his eye, wenches that offered their heat, servant girls who lured him in.

But none had managed to prepare him for the unrelieved pressure of her. Of the one woman he loved, of the one he wanted most.

She'd been kind to him when they were children – and remained polite throughout when he dared to rain his anger on his ludicrous half-sister.

He regretted every hostile instance where he hurt her with his words. And every bite full of prone venom, that he threw her brothers' way.

He regretted how he acted, when he killed the raucous lord. How he taunted him with perverse pleasure, how he named Luke's shocking perish right across from his sweet wife – knowing somewhere all too well that she'd take offence to it.

His face felt numb, his limbs felt heavy. He wanted to denude her slowly, to prode at the extended nature of her smooth and nuanced skin. To devote himself to her fair pleasure, to worship the slickness of her womanhood with a reverence and love perturbed.

He longed to lay his masculinity at the altar of her maidenhood, get on his knees and devout his being to making her peak with him – on his tongue, on his slim fingers, on his chin, or on his face.

He’d read the ways to get a cunt wet – it would take no less good skill and incredible amounts of patience; but for her, he’d gladly wait, and gently stretch her virgin hole, with the aid of his firm touch and the pulsing of his deepened voice.

He closed his eye in a small prayer, as he begged his Gods for guidance – to be able to bring her to the heightened cliffs of sinful rapture, to be able to prove himself as a man fit for her needs.

To make her love him in return, perhaps, and make her see his side of things.

As he remained hammered in place, trying his hardest to regain control over his trembled conscious and his indulgent thoughts, the man failed to notice how his Lady made impressive progress into her methodical and empty musings.

Her head hung low as she undid the lacings of her fitted garment. Her eyes were cast in shadowed doubt and in utter lack of certainty – her breathing came as fast and laboured, and her hands with-held a tremor with every new poignant display of another patch of skin.

Unbeknownst even to her, hot tears of merciless aversion rolled off her rosy cheeks, landing on her petticoat and the cold stone ground below them.

The Prince sucked a jarring breath, as she turned to face the bed with a heartbreaking and crushed compliance. Her softened eyes peered at his form, and a forceful smile unfurled along the corners of her swollen lips.

His expression must have tightened, and his form recoil in slightly – for her hazy eyes enwrapped him, and her shapely brow rose up.

“Aemond…?” She tried to lace her voice with sweetness, “Do you–” The latter words died on her lips, and she remained with her mouth parted, until her thoughts surged loudly clear.

“Should I… d-do you want me to sit in any way?”

The hoarseness in her tender voice made the man pale in disgrace.

“You’re scared of me.” He long admitted, with a rough and neutral tone.

Aemond’s feet carried him slowly, towards the place in which she stood. When his hand came to rest over her wet cheek, she stiffened up and almost winced.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” The desperation in his utter broke the silence of their spacious room, “I would never hurt you. I would sooner die than see you in pain.”

Realisation settled in, and her lost face morphed with awareness. She brought her palm smooth on his own, and searched despairingly to entwine their hands together. When she opened her mouth to speak, she blinked away her forming tears.

“No, my P– Aemond. I could never be afraid of you.”

“Yet here you stand,” He murmured weakly, “Half-naked before me, and shaking.”

“The chamber just feels very cold.” His wife hung onto the excuse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I swear to you that I do want this –”

“I will not bed you.” He hummed as he wiped off her tears – a soft and feeble grazing led about by the callous ends of his smooth pads.

Her face breached forward with mistrust, as her weary mouth lulled open, “W-What? No, Aemond, believe me, I–”

“I will not bed you,” The Prince repeated to her gently, “Not until you ask me to.”

A disgruntled and affronted sigh left the high arch of his lips, yet an understanding look rained across his lustful stare. The one hand which hung loosely by his side trailed a slow path to her jolting shoulder. He swallowed thickly before speaking, pushing down his burning desire.

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr." The meek admission in High Valyrian made her relax into his touch, "Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon."

The Prince staggered with a shaky breath, whilst looking her into the eye. "Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?"

Although she tried so hard to speak, not a word etched from her throat. She nodded in undisplayed wonder, and gripped her husband by the shirt.

He took her balling fists in his, and kissed atop the even skin.

Thoughts strengthened with affirmed abhorrence steered clear through her befuddled mind – there may be hope to fix the error that she so tactlessly set off that night.

And yet before she could place Aemond’s hands down the shape of her small back, the Prince grabbed his sharpened knife, and merely nicked his open palm.

Droplets of deep-crimson liquid seeped into the whitened sheets, and the girl remained upright and frozen, as she watched him clean his blade and rummage through his modest cupboard for a piece of airy cloth.

With one hand he gripped the footboard – and began to firmly shove it into the stone wall up ahead.

The avid creaking of the bed turned into a pleased refrain. One not too fast, but not too slow, which carried on for a few minutes.

Outside their petulant and guarded door, whistles of men and cheers from women crassly seeped into their ears. Though most were muffled down by the sensitive and leal guards, some managed to blurt out half-enthused encouragements upon their midnight escapades.

A flow of compliments descended upon Aemond’s lasting pace – and some of the more improper ladies even dared to coo at her.

“It’ll feel better once you give it time, sweetling!”

“You simply must confine in us what it was like to ride a dragon!”

How utterly humiliating.

Like all bad things within the world, their idle and unseemly chatter ceased after a little while. Aemond sighed and stopped his motions, while granting her a knowing look.

“I’ll remain here for mere more moments. Then I’ll leave you for the night.”

‘N-No!” Her eyes widened in mistrust, as she gnawed her bottom lip. Almost too soon for her own well liking, she’d begged incessantly for him to stay. “Please remain near me, sweet husband… I so long to sleep by you.”

When her words seemed to elude him, she reached for his wounded hand, giving it a slight caress. She pressed her lips atop his cut, and devotedly looked up at him.

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr."

Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and merely settled on the bed.

“As you wish, my darling wife.”

Translations:

"Qybor" = uncle - specifically, from the mother's side;

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr. Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon. Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?" = 'Tis you who commands me here. I will not do anything that leaves you frightened. Why can’t you see that?

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr." = You said that I command you here. I order that you stay with me.

[lunarmoonanons]

Little Rose

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Yandere Maegor x Tyrell reader. 

TW: Birthing scene. Most likely inaccurate. 

Sequel

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist 

YN tugged and played with the ends of her hair as the carriage road fast back to the Reach. Her father decided to ship her back home when they heard that King Maegor was searching for another wife, not wanting his youngest daughter to fall victim to the cruel king. 

YN was the youngest of all her siblings, all her sisters were married and had many children. She was rumored to be from a very fertile line of women. And Maegor was looking for a fertile woman to carry on his line. YN fathers would not have her subjected to a life of pain and forced breeding, not his small rose. YN had no objections, she loved Highgarden; the roses, the trees, the grass, everything. Kingslanding was too ugly. It was only her trip that caused her worry. Maegor would not be pleased to hear that fathers were sending their daughters from court. 

The carriage shook her occasionally as YN looked out the opening at the grass and sky. Peering for a large black dragon that would come down and snatch her away. Her aunt frowned at her fingers that tangled around the ends of her hair. 

“Calm down girl. We’re miles away from the capital, and besides, we weren’t the only carriage to leave. What would Maegor do? Hunt every family that left his bloody red keep?” Her aunt tried to reassure her. YN twirled her ends again. 

“That’s exactly what he’d do.” YN whispered, before turning to her aunt and grabbing her hand. “If he does find us, let him take me. I can’t let you get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, YN. I wouldn;t let that man touch you.” Her thought was interrupted by the shaking ground. A roar ripped through the sky, the carriage shook under the sound making YN jump in her seat. She dare not look out to see the monster that looked for her. YN’s aunt reached forward and pulled the girl into her arms, YN’s face flush against her neck and she smoothed her hair down. “Shush YN. Don’t panic.”

“He’s here.” YN whispered. 

And it was true. The air shook with a loud boom as Maegor landed Balerion the dread in front of the rose decorated carriage. His prize was seated there, she almost got away and he almost had to burn down all of Highgarden to attain her. But the beautiful rose was caught just in time, in an open road way. No real threatening guards were around her, the few that stood around ran at the sight of Balerion. Maegor scoffed, jumping down from his saddle and walking forward to the carriage. One door opened and his beautiful rose was pushed out by her aunt. The middle aged woman screaming for her to run, but her cries were silenced at the sight of Maegor and his sword. 

YN turned around just in time to see the Valyrian blade pierce through her aunt’s chest. “NO!” She cried, tears immediately slipping down her cheeks. He stepped toward her slowly, sword bloody in his hand, YN did not know whether she was going to be killed or assaulted by him. Both equally frightening her. “Are you going to kill me too?” 

“Not at all little rose. I want you alive for what I have planned next for us.” He reached forward and grabbed her smaller arm. Wrenching her forward into his arms, his grasp tight around her body. “You are beautiful. Just like your family is. You will give me beautiful children.”

With that he dragged the crying girl to his dragon, rolling his purple eyes at her fighting. She’d learn to accept her role as queen. 

~~~~

Months later, YN was largely pregnant. It had been 9 months of torture, and YN had her stomach to prove it. She didn’t look like she was carrying one child, but many. Maegor’s chest puffed with pride at the possibility of multiple children at once. YN begged the gods to let it only be one child, birthing one was something she could handle but multiple? YN didn’t think she could handle it. 

Once her pregnancy was appearing to last longer than any of the others, she became his most favored queen. He had roses imported from Highgarden so that the gardens of the keep would be familiar to her. But nothing came without a cost, each gift had the looming threat of ‘I gave you what you want, now give me a son.’

Today was another day YN spent looking over the waters from the garden, the prickling eyes of the guards watched her closely. Her hands absentmindedly rubbed her protruding belly. Trying to calm her restless child, or children. They kick so much nowadays. 

“Please be a girl. Just one girl. Please.” YN begged whatever god was listening. Suddenly there was a pain from her stomach, and the feeling of trickling water dripped from between her legs. YN leaned forward in pain, she wanted to call the guard but another pain kicked through her. 

With a yelp from YN, she fell to her knees from the quickening pain. They weren’t happening in between minutes like her sisters said it would, but in between seconds. The guards rushed forward, clocking the water on the ground and rushing her to her rooms. The pains kept coming quicker and quicker, and it felt like something was falling down from her womb. YN managed to get to her rooms when the first child started to make their way out. A maid had rushed forth and grabbed the babe when it fell from her legs. 

A little boy screamed and cried in her arms. YN couldn’t enjoy the birth of her son as another contraction of pain ripped through her. The second babe came as quick as his brother did, the two cried and screamed in the warms of the maids. The final child took longer to arrive, the pains lasted around an hour or two, but it felt like years. Finally with a cry, YN pushed out a little girl. She tried to look at her children as the afterbirth was forced out of her womb. 

Finally YN fell back onto the bed. Stomach still round, and legs aching. She reached for her children as the maids placed her two boys beside her and the girl on her chest. YN sobbed in relief as the babies stared with large eyes at their mother. She was spared the looks of the guards as her maids smiled and chuckled with joy for her. One rubbed her son’s head, as another placed a wet cloth to YN’s forehead. But her joyous moment did not last, as her husband barged into the room and barked at the maids to leave. He came forth and picked up both boys, glee on his face. 

“You’ve done so well my rose. Two boys, what an achievement.” He flickered his purple eyes down to the baby girl that rested on YN’s chest. “And a girl. You are quick perfect.”

“I am relieved that it is finally over.” YN breathed. 

“For now. I’ll need more boys soon. We can’t let our line fall.” Maegor declared. Ignoring her fresh tears that welled her eyes. YN didn’t know if she could survive another round of this, and if this was to be her life then she didn’t believe in the gods anymore. 

This wasn’t fair.

[yanderes-galore]

I have brainrot and must get out another HOTD fic. NOT PROOFREAD, I WAS COOKING WITH THIS. THIS IS AN ADULT AEGON II FIC, WHICH MEANS IT MENTIONS PLOT POINTS FROM THE BOOKS.

Spoilers For HOTD and Fire & Blood

A short story based on this idea I had.

Baptism By Fire

Yandere! Aegon II Targaryen Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Mentions of intimacy, General Mature Content Warning (This is HOTD/F&B so-) Obsession, Murder, Violence, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Adultery, Consensual turned Forced relationship.

Aegon never liked his older half-sister. In his eyes Rhaenyra was a usurper to the throne. In his younger years he never liked the thought of being king... but now, as an older man, he has grown into such a role.

Since he was a young boy, Aegon had always had his fill of pleasures. However, he did have one true love... which was surprisingly not his wife, Helaena. A maid that served his elder half-sister, you....

You were Rhaenyra's personal handmaid. You were around his age, a maid who came from a family of servants. Originally you were just another target of his unusually insatiable libido.

However, Aegon felt he could cast aside his responsibilities with you. In you he found companionship he wasn't expecting. It wasn't just when he had you in his chambers... it was whenever you were around.

Your "relationship" was kept secret from both his mother and elder-sister. He had a feeling they'd both hate him if he admitted to growing fond of you. As a result of your nights together Aegon always had Moon Tea prepared to hide the "evidence".

Aegon always felt you reciprocated his advances. Up until he was married he saw you as at least a friend, if not lover. However, all good things must come to an end.

Reluctantly he was forced onto the throne as the event known as the Dance of The Dragons began to culminate. Ever loyal to Rhaenyra, you stayed her handmaid. An action Aegon found resentment towards....

Aegon had Helaena to give him heirs, but he didn't particularly enjoy it. Aegon always found himself lusting over other women instead. Oddly his choices often resembled you.

As king during the Targaryen Civil War, it was expected he'd go through many hardships. Even with his golden mount, Sunfyre, by his side... The Blacks still proved to be formidable opponents. He still hated the idea of you being loyal to them... even after everything you shared together.

Aegon's thoughts about you never left his mind. Helaena was not blind to the infatuation in Aegon's eyes. The king, even as a fully fledged adult now, still thought of you. Fate had been cruel... and kept getting crueler.

Aegon wondered if he'd even see you again. Throughout his time as king he had witnessed, assassinations, and the death of his children. He suffers all while you tend to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

He finds himself yearning for you.

His hate for The Blacks grows when he fights Rhaenys. Upon dragon back he was struck down, Sunfyre unable to win against Rhaenys' mount, Meleys. As a result he was left burned and twisted.

By the time the king reunites with you, his face and body are marred. He feels mixed feelings when he sees you stand beside Rhaenyra during the attack on Dragonstone. Even more so when he sees you with Rhaenyra's son behind you.

Aegon feels no remorse when he orders guards to pull you and Rhaenyra's son away. He doesn't give a damn when he orders Sunfyre to sear and consume the false queen. That woman has taken enough from him.

Her death brings a grin to his face.

You're all his.

While many suggested he kill Aegon The Younger, the king turns down such suggestions. The boy, and you, already seemed traumatized enough. Instead he takes the boy prisoner.

Which makes you his new handmaid.

You didn't dare look at him after that. You looked so broken after seeing the death of Rhaenyra, your queen. The Dance of Dragons was not quite done, as resistance still brewed within Black supporters.

However, Aegon could care less currently.

He spared the boy partially for you. He may look different now... but his infatuation for you never left. You stare at his burned and scarred face in fear.

Despite such fear he finds himself embracing you. He struggled to walk and is nowhere close to how he was when he was younger. Even just in his 20's he looks like he's seen hell.

You don't move in his grip. He merely holds you tighter against him. He has waited a long time to have you again.

You still look just as beautiful as the last time he's seen you, a young woman in your 20's who hasn't been through war.

He still wishes to kiss you and share that much affection and intimacy with you. Yet, he settles with easing you into it with a kiss on your forehead. He even tries to cultivate the old feelings you had with advances... even allowing you to visit Aegon the Younger.

Your relationship may not be like it was before... it may never be...

But Aegon is determined.

He has you all to himself now... in his eyes he's won....

The war isn't over, many still support the prince he keeps prisoner. But for now he'd like to ignore all the warfare. He's tired of the fighting...

All he needs is you now...

With you in his arms... he'll take on whatever they throw at him.

He doesn't care if he dies now... as long as he has you by his side during it.

[itsmeyaspider]

Catched in a dragon's cave~

Yandere Aegon II x female thiev reader

Triggers: kidnapping?, unhealthy relation, power abuse, yandere

𝑆𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ 𝑠𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ

Several cold drops of water land on the far too bare, stony ground. Unfortunately, these are the only sounds to be heard in this deserted cellar. From time to time you could hear the jingling of the guards running back and forth to fulfill their duty as guards. If you were lucky, a servant would even come to you to bring you water and some bread with broth. The food was stale and not really edible, but you got used to it. After all, was it your own stupid fault that you ended up here, locked up in chains for several days...weeks or months? You can't remember the last time you felt the warm rays of the sun in your face. It was a miracle that you haven't lost your head and were alive. All the dangerous things the people say about the king and the prince and still nothing happens to you. Maybe it was because neither of them had ever visited you, after all they have a war to win and surely they are more important matters to discuss than punishing a thiev.

With a small sigh, you stretch as best as you can, your body starts to crack. Is this the end? Is the king going to leave you here to rot? Or is this for his amusement? If only you hadn't been such a fool and been caught stealing by one of the kings guards. You were just about to steal a beautiful golden necklace encrusted with many red rubies when you suddenly felt a strong grip on your arm. At the moment you knew you had no chance. You tried to defend yourself against the guard with punches and kicks, but this was more useless than a cat trying to fight a lion. Even your dagger, which you had since your childhood, didn't do much good. With a string blow, the guard brought you to the ground and your dagger as well. The last thing you could remember was that you woke up in that damn cell.

More nights pass and you feel more and more lonelier. You try to coax a few words out of the guards and servants, but this fails miserable. You are only greeted with total silence. But one day a guard spokes up but the only thing he said was "Silence, scum". And so you had given up your last hope that anyone would ever talk to you.

A few more days passed as you suddenly hear several footsteps. They didn't sound as heavy as those from the guards, but also not so light and quick as those of the servants either. You could also hear a moody, annoyed voice thar gets louder and louder. "I want to see the thief"

"My king, I don't think this is a good idea. A king should not associate with a thiev-" the man's voice is drowned out by the previous one. "Do you doubt my abilities?" The voice you could now interpret as Aegeon Targaryen, is getting angrier and angrier. A part of you couldn't believe that you would get to see the king, but you are also afraid. Inwardly, you know how moody he could be and how quick he is to anger. "No my king. I would never assume such a thing"

And so the footsteps become louder, as you suddenly see two people in front of you. One looks like and ordinary servant. He wears a white blouse and simple brown trousers. His hair is dry and very disheveled. The person standing next to him is Aegon himself. He wears his black robe, on which the huge sigil of the three headed dragon is depicted. He also wears his crown who is made of pure silver, with red stones inside. His light blonde hair is clearly visible even in the dark. No wonder people consider the Targaryens to be gods.

"My, my what a beautiful lady do we have here?"~ says the king with a slightly, amused smirk on his face as he begins to examine the woman in the cell. "Whats your name thiev?" He notices the beautiful (h/c) hair, and the piercing (e/c) eyes that look at him in disbelief. Aegons violet eyes stopped at her figure. "Have you lost you tongue or have I blinded you so much that you are no longer able to answer my simply question?" The arrogance in his voice is unmistakable, and you could see in his eyes that he somehow enjoyed this.

In fact, for a brief moment you have forgotten how to speak, you assumed that no one would come to visit you anymore, especially not the king himself. You also have an uncomfortable feeling the way he looks at you. Something feels dangerous. "My name is (Y/n), Mylord" you say in a nervous voice, you trembling is unmistakable. This makes the king even happier as he abruptly snaps with his finger. Immediately, a guard comes running over. "Mylord." He says while bowing. "Get her out of this miserable cell, make sure she is bathed and gets fresh clothes. Bring her to me afterwards." You can't believe what the Targaryen just said Not only you were suprised, but also the other two men next to him. "Mylord, this is-"

"Do I have to repeat myself? Is everyone out of their minds today?" The guard immediately regrets his objection as he bows again and looks at the cellar floor. "Excuse me, Mylord. I will call the servants" The king rolls his eyes in annoyance as he looks at you again, unable to hide his evil grin. "I'll see you later. And don't disappoint me" he says calmly, making his way back into the castle. Your whole body starts to shake again, this is definitely not what you ever expected. The gurad gives you a nasty look as he and the servant follow the king.

After a few minutes, two young servants come. One of them wears a green dress and the other one a blue one. Both looked really beautiful for their young age, and you could already tell that they going to be even more beautifully. Behind them came another guard who finally openes your cell and frees you from the heavy chains. Finally, after a long time, you had the feeling that you are somehow free. Of course, in a limited area, but at least it is better than be caged. The servants lead you into the castle, which is surrounded by only greatness. The corridors were long and everywhere are objects decorated with gold or silver. Carpets made of the purest silk lay on the floor and paintings of the former Targaryens hung majestic on the wall. Something inside you would have loved to steal some things, these objects were of great value and you would definitely get rich with them. But you knew that it would be a very stupid idea to steal here in the middle of the dragon's cave where you are constantly watched by guards who follow you step by step.

With a loud sigh, you follow the two as inconspicuously as possible, but you knew that everyone who passes you would look at you with suspicion and disgust. In the end you couldn't blame them, you would be the same. You probably smell like shit and you not looking really trustable right now. One of the servants suddenly stops in front of a massive wooden door that is also decorated with gold. Is there anything here that isn't covered in unnecessary wealth? You think to yourself, as you now enter a large room. There is a tub with already warm water inside, and also a large closet with many beautiful dresses in it. You also notices a mirror that is also so big as the closet. You are startled when you feel that one of the servants, start to take off your dirty clothes. "Sorry, but it would be the best if we hurry. The king is not the most patient." She says in a gentle, almost motherly voice. She is so young and yet already grown up.

You just nod, noticing now that you are already completely naked. You feel a cool breeze on your sensitive (s/c) skin, as you feel a hand on yours. The servant is slowly leading you to the tub, you carefully step inside and immediately let yourself fall in the warm water. You start to close your eyes and enjoy the moment. It's been ages since you had your last bath and this one feels much better than the others. You also notice two gentle hands that start to clean your back and then you (h/c) hair. The other servant took various dresses out of the closet, she looks at them for a while as she finally decides one, a dark green dress with gold hem. After a while towels are brought to you, which you gladly accepted. You slowly stood up as you took one of them, the scent of rose petals lays in the air as you carefully wrap yourself in the towel and get out of the tub.

A few more minutes passed as you finally dried off, your (h/c) hair is braided and the dress matches perfectly your gorgeous body. The two servants seemed very pleased about their work and you immediately took the joy with you. In fact, you no longer feel like a thief but more like a noble woman. Your childhood you would have jumped into the air and screamed so loud in happiness that everyone in the castle would hear it. A small smile crosses your lips as a guard picks you up, the walk is really quit and the guard didn't say a word. This is only a relief for you, as you didn't really want to hear his insults. When you finally arrived in the throne room, Aegon is sitting on the iron throne, which is adorned with thousands of swords. In his hand he is playing with a dagger. On close inspection, it was your dagger. A big grin appears on his face as he orders the other people to quickly leave the room.

As everyone finally disappears, he speaks up. "Well look at you. You even more beautiful than before." You didn't know how to react to the sudden compliment and so you politely bow. This makes his ego even prouder, as he speaks up again. "Tell me, do you know what the punishment for thieves is?" He asks in an unusual, happy tone. He stands up as he slowly walks down the stairs, as he throws your dagger away, again you feel fear through your body. "Y-Yes Mylord" you stutter out as your body screams to run. Run for your life and run so fast your legs could carry you. But nothing happens, instead you stand there like small mouse and watch the Targaryen who keeps coming closer to you. "You know, I could just have your hands cut off, that would be the right punishment for someone like you, but that would be boring..." He comes to you again, your heart beats faster and faster as you body starts to shake. "And besides it would be such a shame for such a beauty like you..."

He suddenly grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look into his violet eyes, which sparks with malice. "You are lucky that I am such a nice king, and that's why I decided that you will be my personal courtesan. Not everyone has the chance to be given such a task..." His grin grew even wider as he could practically smell your fear. You would have loved to hit him right now and then run away from him but you didn't have the strength or courage to do so. Tears are Boe forming in your eyes as you feel yourself collapsing. Aegon doesn't seem to pay any attention to this as she starts to play with one of your strands of hair. "You belong to me now (Y/N), whether you want it or not. After all, someone like you has no oher choice, unless you prefer torture." His voice sounds pleased again, and when he notices that you are not going to answer him, he knows what you have decided. "Come on, I had a fucking long day and I want to have some fun"

[black-salt-cage]

Sangwoo x Self Insert (Killing Stalking) stimboard with dark and romantic themes ☽ - ✰- ☾ ☽ - ✰ - ☾ ☽ - ✰ - ☾

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ for anon

[bunnyboo77]

The Mad King’s Bride

chapter 2

The great hall was ablaze with light and music as lords and ladies gathered for the grand celebration. The room was elegantly decorated with tapestries and chandeliers, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Servants bustled about, refilling goblets with rich wine and delicate delicacies. The sound of laughter and lively conversation filled the air as guests mingled and danced to the enchanting melodies played by the musicians. The lords and ladies moved gracefully across the polished floor, their colorful gowns and fine attire adding to the splendor of the event.

Noble houses from all across the land flock to the capital though many had their fears. The promise of riches and gaining alliances that would benefit there house was greater then fear itself. As the lords and ladies arrived in the capital, they whispered amongst themselves about the king's erratic behavior and the tales of him burning people alive for his own amusement. The only way to gain such favour was to present there daughters as possible brides for the king.

Yet, the lure of power and prestige was too great to resist, and they put on a brave face as they presented there young daughters and sisters before the throne, concealing their trepidation behind smiles and courtesies. The tension in the air was palpable, as each guest wondered if they would be the next victim of the king's unpredictable wrath.

Aery who was already bored with the countless lords presenting their daughters to him as though there prized pigs or cows. To him they all looked ugly and untrustworthy just like there sad excuse of a father or uncle.

“Boy another and be quick about it” king spoke raising his gold goblet in the air. The rush of feet made their to the throne with the appearance of a fear stricken boy.

Rich donnish wine was all the king drank as it was considered more frequent than meals.

Making eye contact with the cup bearer though he never before unless he was pulling his organs from there body. The king only noticed that the cup bearer who is normally a young lad was actually a young maiden with doe blue eyes staring into his soul.

Averting her gaze she was about to leave when all of sudden a hand grabs her wrist with such force she almost dropped the jug of wine.

“My king” the young maiden spoke with sweet soft voice.

A moment of silence felt like it lasted the whole night. the grip on the young maiden wrist did not let up as though the dragon himself was holding onto treasure.

“ I did not command you to leave” he said with fire burning in his eyes as he continued to gaze into hers.

Bowing ever so slightly, she whispered “ as a command your majesty”

The king knew he wanted to hear sweet voice moaning out his name as he took her to his bed as his Queen.

Such an obedient maiden she is sweet innocence and pure to the touch of man. The King's gaze continued to fix on the young woman especially her body as though she is small he can clearly see the curvature of her waste underneath her simple dress.

"Do tell me my dear how is it you have become my cup bearer" the king spoke taking another sip of wine.

Not even lift her gaze and she spoke "I'm afraid your your grace your normal cupbearer has been taken ill and I was sent in his place as they could not find a replacement so soon".

Though the king did not care for who served him wine as long as his cup was full probably cared it could have been a horse. This young innocent maiden had intrigued him not only in her enchanting voice but in her appearance. Her eyes called to him like a siren lowering the sailors to their death.

Throughout the night it had been the same seen Lords approaching him as they flaunt their family in front of him while trying to gain favor. Normally the king would not care about such pathetic acts choosing to drown himself in wine to drone out their sad attempts to bootlicking.

“My king it is such a grand night to celebrate your noble house as well as the many great Targaryen’s that came before you” one Lord says all the while his feared haired sixteen-year-old daughter stood beside him. The young Lord's daughter ever so slightly battered her long eyelashes had him.

Taking no notice of the Lord the king continued to stare at his own personal cupbearer. The young lady herself stood quietly by his side. Curls of her light brunette hair could be seen coming through her cap. Aery felt this need to approach the woman and to lightly brush his fingers across her head curling them around her hair. Imagining her eyes meeting is the way her skin would feel against his worn fingers.

“So smooth” he thought.

The sensation ohh her soft supple lips against his own, the way their tongues danced and intertwined in a passionate embrace. Hands yet small brushed against his neck as he pulls her closer feeling the raw passion between them growing stronger with each fleeting moment. In his mind he realized the idea of losing himself in the heat of the moment consumed by intoxicating the lure.

The babbling of this Lord it was only stopped when Lord Tywin spoke “thank you Lord Gregor the king warmly accepts your appreciation”. Aery turned his head and nodded, not uttering a single word.

“Lord tywin how many more of these simple-minded men do I have to listen to you” he spoke gripping his cup tighter. Not even turning his head Tywin replied, “I'm afraid my king they will continue this all night”.

Taking a long deep breath the king turned to avert his gaze again to his young maiden who at this time had left his sight. Darting his head around the room he could not find a glimpse of her, not the swaying of her dress or that of her doe eyes. About to leave his throne he then saw the young maiden appearing from nowhere holding now a full jug of wine.

Kneeling beside him she carefully filled his cup that had already been emptied.

“I did not give you permission to go and yet you left my side do you make it a habit of not obeying your King's orders.”

locking up with fear filled eyes “I am sorry your majesty the jug was nearly emptied I hurried as quickly as I could without spilling.”

Feeling his chest grow warm, the king did not reply back simply groaning in annoyance now that her actions but how she could easily melt his anger away with one simple apology. This act had never spared someone's life before but yet it spared hers. As on cue the king could feel his heartbeat faster and faster.

The king rose from his throne, his hand clutching his chest, the wave of emotions carrying him to an unknown feeling he did experience his entire life.

Caring not for the sudden stop of the music or the abrupt stares of others or how in unison they bowed and whispered your majesty. Barging his way through the doors his footsteps were followed by the clanking of metal as guards rushed behind him. He did not let up on his pace until he reached his chambers, the room itself illuminated by the soft embers of the candles lit around.

Falling onto his bed, a certain thought grips him, searing through his mind as he closed his eyes. In the darkness behind his lids, he envisions the young maiden, her image even more vivid than when he was on the throne. A voice almost primal nature whispers to him that she belongs solely to him and that he must claim her as his own. The thought consumes him feeling his desires drive him to the brink of madness. In this moment, the king is overtaken by the need to possess her to feel her presence beneath him to make her his in every sense of the word. As he lies upon these silken sheets his heart continues to race with longing his mind ablaze with the intoxicated fantasy of diverse ways of claiming her as his rightful prize

[reagan10108]

My Rules and about myself. Requests are closed

Minors beware. What I write is dark content.

My name is Reagan, but you can call me Ray, and my pronouns are he/him. I am a new writer on Tumblr, and English is not my first language, so I am sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes I make.

Please don't spam when asking a question, talking to me, or making a request. I have a life, too, and I have other things to do, including being a high school student with assignments.

I don't encourage any dark/yandere stuff in real life I only write and read about it.

Any kind of homophobic, racist, or offensive comment on my post will get you blocked.

Please don't steal or translate my work. Reblog it instead. If I catch anyone stealing and posting my work as theirs, they will be reported and blocked.

None of the characters I write about are mine they belong to their authors.

What I am okay with writing

Yandere/dark stuff

All genders

non yandere stuff

Platonic/Romantic.

Incest but not Parent and child

Polygamy relationships

I am only writing Headcanons for now. And please specify when requesting if you would like me to write the fanfic romantically or platonically or yandere or non yandere and specify the gender I’m OK with any gender as stated above. 

What I don't feel comfortable writing

Smut: I am not that good at it, but once I am, I might start writing smut

I am okay with writing gore, but if it is too strong and weird, I will not write for it.

Fandoms I write for

A song of ice and fire

Blood of Zeus the show

Greek Mythology