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controld3vil · 2 days

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here we stand

pairing: jacerys velaryon x mormont!reader

synopsis: news had broken out that the throne has been usurped. jacerys rides his way to winterfell, the end to the north where he meets cregan stark. and in evidently, you, lady mormont of bear island.

notes: first of all, HE LOOKS SO GOOD w/ long hair !! also this mentions the first scene in s2 ep 1, i just tweeked a few things where now jacerys receives the terrible news days after getting acquitted in at winterfell. and bc i wished for more jace & cregan interaction >:( no beta reading btw !!

Duty is sacrifice.

All know of it. It bypasses any blood or foe. To honor one's duty is to sacrifice one's possessions. And oaths can last long over through generations. It is bypassing children and their children. It is the utmost fidelity any honorable man should know. If for the Seven Kingdoms and everyone at stake at what's beyond the Wall. A barrier that towers over seven hundred feet from what lies more gruesome than death.

Your cousin, Cregan Stark took up the responsibility as Lord of Winterfell, sometime after the passing of his father, Rickon Stark. He's a noble lad, he took upon the role at the age of six and ten. He was young but quickly learned how to command and serve the people. Much like his House's words, he understood what was coming. Though unexpected news of an envoy from Dragonstone had landed him in monetary consideration. Of what's to come with his men and the upcoming raging war.

"This is only late summer snow, my prince. In winter it will cover all you see and all memories of warmth will be forgotten." The metal chamber that brings them to the top of the Wall stops and both men walk out into the cold winter bridge. It's desolate and high in altitude.

Jacaerys could only imagine what it would feel like in wintertime, where there is nothing else but ice. "It pleases me that over a century ago our ancestors were treated in this very place. The Conqueror and the King in the North." His brown hair, inches longer, flutters past the cold air. Even with his blood, the descendant of the ferocious fire-breathing creatures, his heart still churns with a chill.

"You at least had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon." The Lord of Winterfell smiles, eyeing the prince's reaction to the weather. No Southerner would know the true cold past summer.

The crowned prince returns his grin, looking out into the view beyond the Wall. From seven hundred feet above, everything, even the trees and people looked small. A wall that has been built this tall must offer security for what's beyond more terrifying than wildings and foes.

"While your men stand to protect against wildings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp my mother's throne. It is the duty of the Seven Kingdoms, and you, as Lord of Winterfell, to uphold your oaths sworn to the heir to the Iron Throne," Jacaerys gaze moves across where his eyes can take him off the Wall. It stretches out ridiculously long with men at every post. He has passed by a few to know whether or not, it was their obligation to join the Night's Watch, it was now their vow to protect this sacred place. However, he needed to remind Lord Stark of his reason for visiting. If the realm remained unbalanced, even Winterfell would not prosper.

"Starks do not forget our oaths, my prince," Cregan restates, with a look of sympathy and seriousness. "But you must know that my gaze will forever fall between the north and south. Here, in the winter, my duty to the Wall is more dire than what I ought in King's Landing. I need my men."

The prince of Dragonstone's look flickers, questionably. Until a holler from one of the watchmen signals Cregan of a visitor. He nods before glancing back at Jacaerys to dismiss him. A soft courtesy of his name before stepping down the post to greet the newcomer.

The cranks of the elevator come to a final stop. Before a pair of boots shuffle out of the old compartment to be met with the face of your cousin. Cregan's eyes meet yours in surprise and you subconsciously feel your shoulders untensed.

"Cousin,"

"Lady Mormont," He says with utmost respect as he can decipher the faint footsteps from behind Dragonstone's envoy. "What reason may you come to visit the Wall?"

"I received word that a messenger from Dragonstone came," Your bear fur coat holds you snug to protect you from the harsh winds. And your embroidered gloves, made from leather and deer fur have kept your fingers from freezing off during the trip to the edge of Winterfell. Your hands clasp together in an assertion. "Though I can already see he has arrived." Your soft stare transfigures onto Jacaerys and the sudden attention makes him slightly step aback.

Your lord gives you a playful look before turning back. "My prince, this is Lady Mormont of Bear Island. She is a close friend of mine and cousin." As embarrassed as the prince was, he could feel heat run up his spine as Jacaerys struggled to say anything welcoming.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Mormont,"

"The pleasure is mine," You blink innocently before addressing yet again your reason for presence. “Come, discuss matters over the fire,”

Eventually, a week has gone by with Jacaerys Velayron’s stay. His extended stay has left questions and concerns for the townsfolk. However, Cregan reassures them, replying to them in short curt responses. In all, he explains the prince should rest before riding back to Dragonstone as it was a few days' journey from the North. This brought no rejection from either party and allowed the two boys to catch up and take into consideration the risks.

You were always welcome at Winterfell. When you were little, your father, Lord Mormont, visited the black castle occasionally to meet with Lord Stark. The maids and servants knew you well as well as the Starks. They treated you like their own blood despite you being a distinct relative from a faraway island. Rare at times would they come to visit your home. Your homeland was not as welcoming as Winterfell some may say. Your House resided over lone shores, topped with horrific rock structures and charcoal reefs. A ruthless and barbaric landmark for the House of the Bear.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Lord Stark,” Jacaerys starts, holding his ale cup to drink as all of the other guests gather to feast for the night. The three of you alongside Cregan’s son, Rickon, were seated at the high table, enjoying the luxurious scene before you all.

Large condiments of meats, pastries, and wine for the people, nobles of the Northmen. Feasts were something that brought together everyone during harsh times. In times of violence or sorrow, it is the shared appreciation you all must endure to move forward. That is true of what the people of the North had that no other House had. The Velaryron prince gives you an appreciative smile. “And to you, Lady Mormont, I thank you for your sincere support of my mother’s claim.”

“Here we stand,” You raise your goblet, reciting your very House words. True to what it meant, your family stood prepared for what days would come to an end. You understood one day you have a place in something greater when the moment was right and here it was now, lying right in front of you. Mormonts are known to be willing to fight even when the odds are against them. So were you when you declared fealty to Cregan Stark, your dear cousin. Your loyalty towards him would only mean you would go to the ends of the Earth to fulfill your promise. “And here we fight for the queen.”

Despite not having Rhaenyra, her son knew she would be fond of you. Your attitude and strong integrity were something few held at King’s Landing. He acknowledged that people may not agree with his mother’s claim. However, there will always be those who still believe and support her. You are one of those people. Despite being hundreds of miles away from King’s Landing, Cregan and you showed fealty and loyalty to the oaths sworn nearly a decade ago. Some day, he wishes his mother would meet you.

“Of course,” Cregan begins, settling his cup down, before patting for his son to come towards him. “With the men we have, it is guaranteed they’d be ready to march the earliest as of the morrow” Rickon starts off his wooden seat and shuffles to his father’s lap. A clumsy stumble and the Lord of Winterfell picks up the child with ease with a soft smile. “From there, the men will march to King’s Landing.”

“Then I should leave by the morrow,” Rhaenyra’s son places his arms on the table.

Your heart skips a half second, knowing that the time you spent together would be short-lived eventually. The prince was sent as a messenger, nothing more. His stay was long overdue, though no word from Dragonstone has the eyes of the ravens yet. It sinks to you momentarily when you place the last piece of meat into your mouth and down the last drops of your ale.

“Yes, your visit has been short-lived,” Your cousin sighs, too aware of how the brief meeting would be over. Jacaerys was a good friend, being the same age as him, Cregan felt well acquainted with him. He had only wished that they had met under different circumstances and times. Perhaps when war wages on, they would meet again on the battlefield or after they have won against the Greens. Speculation of what was next was unknown. “But you have our support, my prince. Do not fret, we will prepare for what the Hightowers plan.”

Jacaerys nods, understandably. He turns to you who sweetly bobs your head in agreement. How delicate your features looked in the dim ambers of the Winter halls. He’s enamored by your presence with how often he gravitates towards your direction.

He had always assumed Northern women would be different from Southerners. They were different. Northerners were divine in their way. You excluded such poise and delicacy, Jacaerys sometimes couldn’t help but become curious of you. Your hobbies, what you liked to do, what was your favorite food, and your most desired ambitions. Southerners in King’s Landing were graceful and fragile like the summer breeze. However, you were like a chilly snow cast. The cold, it’s welcoming and he constantly feels chills running down his spine whenever your eyes meet.

“Now what do you think of the North?” Your lord light-heartedly brings up to lighten the mood. You and Cregan enjoyed the short mornings with the prince. The limited time you shared allowed for intimate discussions and a way to become acquainted with one another. The people, how things functioned, and how you adapted to the cold. It’s far much different than what he’s accustomed to in Dragonstone, where his home echoed through miles. Compared to the North, Winterfell was exceptionally enormous but had a sense of home and warmth.

“It’s different from Dragonstone,” The brown-haired envoy laughs, showing quite fond forever his home. “My home resides by the sea, surrounded by the high tides and rough shores. The castle is covered in obsidian stone and is known to be indestructible. My family has lived there for centuries now.”

“How fascinating,” Your cousin breathes, showing his teeth. “I’ve heard stories about Dragonstone. Some say you can find dragon eggs deep in the mountains.”

“That is true, our dragons reside in caves. They lay their eggs in crystallized magma. Our dragon masters look after the eggs and know when the time is right to harvest them.”

“What happens when a dragon egg doesn't hatch?” You lean your head forward, hands clasped together again. Learning about his family and their customs kept your interest for a long time. Not many Southern Houses come to visit from King’s Landing. They rather stay where it is warm and avoid the uncomfortable weather and travel to the North. Your eagerness was appreciated when Jacearys considered your question.

“We wouldn’t know for sure when they would or would not hatch. We simply wait it out.” He quirks a gentle smile when your gaze is sort of magnetic. It’s like you were in a trance every time he spoke of anything he was interested in.

“How long have you waited for one to hatch?” Cregan picks up his cup again to refill while his son pivots to run to the other side of the table, only to be greeted by you. With big smiles, you gladly carried the child to your side.

“A few years,” Jacearys remembers the day well. He remembers his brother Joffrey, struggling and whining to his mother about his egg. He was as young as four, however in the first three years of his life, his dragon had not hatched. It’s a mystery when the dragon decides to break out of its shell. He was fortunate with Vermax after months of being born, his companion was right beside him from the start. Lucerys had a similar reaction. Rhaenyra often told stories of many instances of good and bad hatchlings alongside their rider. Some may not have been awakened by its rider, for they might have been dead already. The unknown enigma of those ferocious beasts pales in the prince’s head.

“It must’ve been unpleasant,” You joked, hugging Rickon tightly, having his cheek meet with yours. The young boy giggles loudly, taking hold of both of your cheeks in excitement.

The atmosphere felt sublime and almost too perfect. Here in the warmth and formality of the Stark Household, everyone was lively and heeded no sorrows. How the prince wished upon the same for Dragonstone. If only the realm was brought together and the Hightowers had not usurped his mother’s throne despite her rightful claim. Would his family be united and happy finally?

He wasn’t sure as Jacaerys had never known familial love on his mother’s side. Both of his uncles vexed him, Luke and Joffrey. Helaena was kind, however, never showing malice towards him and his brothers. But the Hand of the King, and Queen Regent. Quiet in their schemes and distaste for bastards.

Affection is what fills the prince’s chest with glee. As he scans the dining room of men, women, and children, they all feast and brawl over pointless endeavors. The scent of mead and hot fresh meat fills the room with chaotic laughter and nonsensical bubbling. In another time and place, Jacaerys would have been thrilled to visit Winterfell during this time of year.

And his gaze slowly follows the wisp of your faint figure by the fireplace. With the heir of House Stark, you blow raspberry kisses against Rickon’s hot cheeks. As the boy squeals in delight, grabbing at the ends of your hair like ropes on the ship, bouncing them back and forth. You were good to Rickon, Jacaerys knows you care for the boy like it were your son. He thinks Cregan is grateful to have someone's endearment and protection toward his son. For the lack of a maternal figure had been long gone. You would be a great mother one day, he deciphers. You constantly fiddle Rickon’s hair which reminds him of his mother when he was little.

It was such a faint memory that stuck in his mind whenever he saw you with the children. Rhaenyra would question him if she were here. Mothers had a knack for spotting things such as things. The prince knew of his interest in you. However, would you do the same if he made them clear as day?

You never said anything to him. It makes him question if you were truly interested or not. You’ve shown fondness over meals and spoke of jokes whenever he came out to the stables, where his poor dragon, Vermax, gruntled in the snow.

“I’m sorry the farmers could not do much to help your dragon!” You shouted out one day in the early sunrise. He takes a few steps from his companion to find you in white fur coats and boots. You looked beautiful, the color suits you. As elegant and dainty as the pigment of his mother’s hair. Your locks were braided halfway with the rest, flowing down from your ears to your shoulders. “We don’t often have dragons visit us in the North!”

The prince laughs with small puffs of his breath becoming visible. “The stable boys did a fine job in accompanying Vermax.” At the call of his dragon’s name, it slowly hovers over his dragon rider. It purrs warmly in the frost as your eyes glower in fascination.

“He’s beautiful,” Your voice is nearly breathless at the size difference Vermax has over the buildings and people. It is a creature that comes far beyond your imagination and fairy tales. It's olive green scale prickle in delight as your eyes began to wonder back and forth. Dragons were rare in the North and it must’ve been a relentless recurrence for the people in King’s Landing.

The prince hums before kicking a chunk of frozen dirt. He makes an effort to be bold for once. “Would you like to pet him?”

You looked shook and it made him struggle to keep a composed posture. You stumble to make any words come out of your mouth. “I- May I?”

“Of course,” The dragon rider comes forward and grabs your hand, dragging himself closer to the beast. The sudden contact and closure make your heart beat faster than anticipated. As you find yourself glancing up at its reptilian eyes. In horror, you hold your ground, wanting nothing more than to back away. “It’s alright, he won’t hurt you.”

Jacery’s reassurance doesn't comfort you as you resist his grip on your wrist. Vermax merely stands, grumbling in curiosity as to your stricken presence. It’s trying to inquire about your anxiety when it was the reason for it in the first place.

Taking a short take of air, you stand in place. You did your best to calm your breathing, feeling a hand on your lower back to support you. Your dainty eyes meet the prince. And within contact, it felt as though you felt everything would be alright. His touch soothed your racing heart as you excelled forward, step by step closer to the beast. For you, it must’ve felt like the clock had slowed down when you were merely inches away from Vermax. Its enormous size was breathtaking and you could make your lungs free of oxygen again.

Yet your state of mind returns when the queen’s heir comes into view. The air felt a tension between fear and anxiety. It was both exhilarating and terrifying for someone who has never seen a dragon up close before. You took the last big step when you lifted your fingers above its nose.

Vermax shivered and at the last minute, you wanted to back out. Until Jacaerys hand envelopes over your hand to pet his companion. With such care and attentiveness, you should have realized the prince’s advances towards you by now.

The Godswood was a welcoming pastime you’ve grown to respect. With the decline in visits, you’ve come to value the historic tree for what it stood for and the ancestral value it had over your people. Cregan did not mind whenever you went away to pay your respects. He knew how important it was to you to respect the old gods and the new. War was coming. If you were going to support Rhaenyra, you only wish for your men to come out victorious.

You were no war-picking woman. But death was something you’ve come to accept recently. The passing of Rickon Stark brought a hole in your heart. You mourned in your ways, and so did Cregan when you had heard he had taken the mantle as Lord of Winterfell. He still is a young man, barely over six and ten. The best you could do was offer your presence and time. To him, being present with the people and acting lively was enough for him to regain his mind. Everyone looked up to Rickon for what he stood for and the House. There is no doubt Cregan would do the same in the coming time to King’s Landing.

“It’s saddening, isn’t it?” You breathe into the crisp air, only to feel your throat grow dry. But the person behind you knows you were referring to them. “How war affects us all.”

The prince of Dragonstone steps out from the shadows. His steps were slow and gruff, still worn out from the feast and the massive amount of ale that was offered to him. But you were the only thing that had piqued his interest. You were quiet, not expecting an answer from him. Until he stepped and stopped right beside you, shoulders nearly touching but inches apart. Your bear coat was held loosely on you as he recalled you too struggled to leave the dining table. You all drank too much tonight.

“The Godswood know of it all. They see everything,” The bear bronze sigil shines past his peripherals when he cannot meet your gaze. You were not drunk enough to do something reckless but not too sober to do anything either.

In return, all you could ever see was Jacaerys furrowed expression. He’s contemplating something. But you choose to stare and take in his features with such interest and curiosity. His soft and tranquil pout resembles much of a wolf you’ve seen. As though his curly strands, which you would imagine, are dim to the touch. The prince holds assertiveness in his duty, falling into the role of heir as for his queen. Perhaps he’s everything that his mother stood for. You admired it.

“Know you and your men's contributions would be known,” He whispers, it’s clear you could feel his breath close to your neck. The dark clouds could not even hide the indisputable truth. The crescent moon gleams somewhere in the far distance you can’t seem to find. But you know what’s true. Because moments ago, you could discern his distance inches away. Now it seems that he wants to close the gap by the second. “And that…”

“That we did our duties, nothing more.” You pant, unable to keep your eyes from moving from his gaze and lips. Strands of his dark brown hair trickle against your cheeks as you take one last glimpse at your prince. If any of this was acceptable. You wouldn’t exceed further to know he’d reject your proclaimed assumptions.

But nothing happens. It was as though the chill in the air had changed. When another figure reappears out of the shadows and into the light. Jacaerys distances himself from you. While you did your best to compose yourself for being caught red-handed by a servant boy.

“My Lady,” The innocent boy chants, as he holds up a scroll. “A message from Dragonstone.” Jacearys’s eyes shot up as you were given the letter. The moment you give the signal of approval, the servant boy leaves into the abyss and back into the cabin.

You unlatched the curly paper and patiently read its contents. The prince carefully awaits, every so longing to catch any misdemeanor you would have upon what letter had. He hopes and wishes it is good news more than anything. But you held a stone-cold expression and when you looked up at him, he could only discern sorrow with the words that come out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, my prince.”

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squirmhoney · 2 days

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HoD porn links - 4 - Anything but sex special

warning: 18+ only. these are twitter links that contain porn videos. these are not fics. Mentions of non con, dub con, forced intoxication and incest.

navigation // house of dragon master list // No.1 No.2 No.3

Aegon Targaryen

Reassuring sister reader that it's not wrong if it's just the tip.

Becoming desperate with his pious niece that he pleads with her to use her thighs.

The way Aegon moans after blackmailing cousin reader into doing this

Always getting touchy with his sister when they sleep together. Wanting so much more but settling for this

he just knows how to get you so worked up

He swears he just wants to take care of his little sister

Cousin reader helping Aegon to feel good in the only way he has shown her how

After getting Aemond's twin drunk, Aegon takes advantage, constantly whispering in your ear of how he needs to stretch you out for him

Aemond Targaryen

Cousin reader after she told Aemond she couldn't give him her virtue

Getting carried away in Aemond's room after a sleep over.

Heavy heated makeout sessions with twin brother Aemond after he bought you a new set

Forcing his niece to touch herself for him so he can finally cum

Aemond after swearing to his sister that he just wants to help her out. To make her feel better

His niece distracting him from arguing with her brothers down stairs

#aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark fic #hotd fanfic #Aemond x reader x aegon #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #dark!aegon x reader

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aemond · 2 days

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“the big d!ck is back in town” strut strikes again

#he had two goals: serve looks & give his mother a headache #aemond targaryen #aemondtargaryenedit #hotdedit #hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #tvedit #gameofthronesdaily #gameofthronesgifs #welighttheway #game of thrones #*mine

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spongebobssquarepants · 2 days

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#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #memes #meme #game of thrones #twitter #posts #reblog #kane52630

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punch-aholic · 3 days

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~Awkward Family Photo~

I feel bad for coming back from my hiatus with a new fandom oops (I’ll get back to dc soon)

#artists on tumblr #simon’s art #house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #rhaena targaryen #baela targaryen

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blakeswritingimagines · 3 days

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Hell's Coming With Me

Summary: There's only one way to stop the war now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 8.3k

You find yourself in the Red Keep, where Aemond Targaryen, the younger son of King Viserys I, and the younger brother of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, is standing tall and imposing. His face hardened with anger as he spots you. "You dare to come here after what you've done? After you betrayed my family?" He snarls, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced as his rage builds. "I should kill you where you stand for your treachery! But instead…" Aemond's eyes gleam dangerously, "…you will earn your keep by telling me everything that has transpired since we last met. And if you lie or withhold information, so help me, I'll have your tongue. Now speak!" Your gaze does not falter at Aemond's threats. Instead, you lift your chin and meet his blazing eyes with an icy composure. As he demands answers, you respond with a voice laced with cold conviction. You stare back into Aemond's eye with your unwavering gaze, you do not back down nor shame away from his threat. "Do not think I fear you or your threats, kinslayer. I will speak, but only if you promise to listen and hear my words without blind rage and anger. A skill you don't seem to have mastered yet. You speak of betrayal, Aemond as if your own actions have not been those of a turncoat. But very well, I will indulge your curiosity. Since our last meeting, I have done what I must, to protect my claim and my loved ones."

His nostrils flare as he takes in your defiant stance, the audacity of your words stoking the fire of his anger. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain of holding himself back from leaping across the room to strangle the life out of this woman who dared to call him a kinslayer. "Your words are bold, but they're empty," he growls, his teeth grinding together in frustration. "You've betrayed us all for your own selfish ambitions. But know this, I won't let you get away with it. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done." Aemond's gaze darkens, his eyes reflecting the fury burning within him. He steps closer, looming over you as he continues to threaten you, promising retribution for your perceived betrayal. Your eyes blaze with defiance as you match Aemond's gaze. You refuse to be intimidated by his towering figure or his threats. Your voice remains calm and firm as you meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "You speak of ambition, Aemond, but it was you and your family who were willing to put my family and me in danger in order to secure the throne. Are you so blind to your own actions that you cannot see? You speak of betrayal, yet it was you who turned on us first." Your words cut through the air like a knife.

The corner of Aemond's mouth twitches as he fights to maintain control, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. The sheer audacity of your accusations sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling the flames of his wrath. "I didn't betray anyone!" he roars, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It was you who started this war. You and your scheming mother!" Aemond lunges forward, grabbing hold of your arm in a vice-like grip. His other hand balls into a fist, ready to strike. As Aemond grabs your arm, your instincts kick in, and with a swift movement, you twist your body out of his grip. Your heart races with a mixture of fear and determination, you take a step back, your eyes fixed on Aemond's menacing form, ready to defend yourself. "So it all comes down to this again, Aemond? You resorting to violence when you can't win an argument. Is this the kind of ruler you aspire to be - one who can't handle dissent or differing opinions? This is why I will make a better Queen than you ever will be."

Rhaenyra and Alicent burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they see Aemond attempting to strike you. Rhaenyra immediately steps forward, placing herself between you and Aemond. "Stop this nonsense at once, Aemond," Rhaenyra demands firmly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. His other hand uncurls from its fist, but only to point an accusing finger at his sister. "Don't interfere, Rhaenyra," he spits out, his voice dripping with venom. "This is none of your concern anymore. You chose sides long ago." He turns his attention back to you, ignoring Rhaenyra and his mother completely. "Admit it. Admit that you're working with them. That you're just another one of their puppets." Aemond's eyes flash dangerously as he waits for your response, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. Despite the precarious situation, you hold your head up high, your gaze locked on Aemond's intense stare. You refuse to back down, your voice steady and determined. "I serve no one's agenda but my own, Aemond. Unlike you, I don't blindly follow the whims of my parents and the council. I am my own person, with my own ambitions and desires. I do not answer to them, and I sure as hell don't answer to you either."

Rhaenyra and Alicent glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they step closer to you and Aemond. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, Rhaenyra speaks calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "It was decided that both of you will marry," she says, her voice firm yet measured. "It is not a matter of discussion or choice. You will both be tied together by matrimony." Aemond's eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at Rhaenyra, then his mother, and finally back to you. Stepping back slightly as he contemplates Rhaenyra's words. "So that's your plan, is it?" he sneers, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Force me into marriage with this traitor?" He glares at you, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Why should I trust any of you? You've all lied and schemed to get what you want. Don't think I'm going to fall for your tricks now." Aemond crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid with hostility.

Alicent places a hand on her son's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. She meets Aemond's gaze with a calm yet authoritative expression. "This is not about trust, Aemond," Alicent replies quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "This is about family. This marriage will strengthen our alliance and ensure the stability of our house. It's our duty to the realm, and to our families, to make this sacrifice." Rhaenyra nods in agreement with Alicent, her expression softening for a moment as she adds her own thoughts. "This marriage is not just a political union, Aemond. It's an opportunity for us all to put aside our differences and come together as a family. The war has caused enough suffering and division. We can end it now, by making this sacrifice." She looks between you two, her eyes pleading for understanding. Aemond's gaze flickers between Alicent and Rhaenyra, his face unreadable. After a moment of silence, he gives a curt nod, conceding defeat for now. "Fine," he grumbles, his tone begrudging. "I'll do it…for the sake of the realm." But despite his outward acceptance, there's a simmering resentment in his eyes. He may have agreed to the marriage, but he certainly hasn't forgotten - or forgiven - any of the wrongdoings committed against him.

As the wedding day draws near, the mood within the castle is a strange combination of excitement and anticipation. The halls buzz with talks of the royal wedding, which will unite two powerful families in an unlikely union. The bride and groom-to-be, you and Aemond, have spent weeks getting ready for the special event. The castle has been adorned with colorful banners and fresh flowers. The air is filled with the scent of blossoming roses, and the distant sound of minstrels practicing their instruments fills the air. As the months pass, preparations for the royal wedding begin in earnest. The Red Keep buzzes with activity as servants and courtiers scurry back and forth, ensuring that everything is in place for the grand event. You, meanwhile, find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of preparations, torn between the anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and the weight of the responsibilities that will come with your new role. As the day of the wedding approaches, Aemond can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. There's excitement, yes, but also unease. He knows this union isn't one born of love or even mutual respect. It's a political necessity, a pragmatic solution to a complicated problem.

Despite his reservations, he does his best to play the part of the dutiful groom-to-be. He attends countless meetings and rehearsals, tolerating the endless discussions about seating arrangements and flower arrangements. But beneath his composed exterior, a storm of feelings brews, churning up memories of past betrayals and present uncertainties. Aemond stands outside the Septon's Hall, staring off into the distance as he prepares to enter the room where his fate - and yours - will be sealed. Despite his outward appearance of calm indifference, inside he is seething with rage and disgust. He had never wanted this, never wanted you, and yet here he was, about to become your husband. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door and steps inside, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. There you stood, looking more beautiful than ever in your white silk gown, your hair coiffed into intricate braids adorned with fresh flowers. For a moment, he almost forgets why he hates you. But then he remembers your betrayal and the hatred resurfaces.

You stood in a simple yet elegant white dress, the fabric flowing around your figure like water. A small crown of flowers rests atop your head, their vibrant colors adding a touch of warmth to your cool demeanor. As Aemond enters the room, your eyes meet him, and a mixture of emotions flickers across your face. Despite the tension between you, there is a sense of resignation in your eyes, a feeling that you have reluctantly accepted your fate. But your gaze remains steady as you stand tall, facing him without an ounce of fear. As the ceremony begins, Aemond can't help but feel a mixture of revulsion and resignation. He repeats the traditional vows in a flat, monotone voice, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of hatred and resentment towards you. Your voice, on the other hand, is soft and clear, your words spoken with earnestness and determination. When it's time to say the seven sacred pledges, Aemond glares at you with venom in his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. But you hold your gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness or hesitation.

As the vows are exchanged, Aemond's heart feels like lead in his chest. Each word that leaves his lips tastes like ash in his mouth. But he forces himself to continue, knowing that this is what must be done. His gaze remains fixed on you, watching as you speak your vows with sincerity and conviction. The sight makes him sick to his stomach. Yet, he knows that he too must give his all, if only to save face in front of all loved ones. So, he swallows down his hatred and bitterness, replacing it with a mask of compliance. And when the final vow is made, he feels nothing but relief. Aemond grits his teeth as he utters the final vow, his voice barely above a whisper. The very thought of being bound to you in this way fills him with loathing. As the High Septon declares them wed, Aemond can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his throat. 'So this is how it ends,' he thinks to himself, a twisted sense of irony tainting his dark humor. You stood next to Aemond, your palms sweating and your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, you force yourself to hold your head high and maintain a façade of composure. Inside, however, your mind is racing with thoughts and feelings that you can't quite untangle. As the high Septon declares you both man and wife, you gaze up at Aemond, your eyes searching for any hint of warmth or affection, but all you find is his cold, indifferent gaze.

After the ceremony, the reception begins. Aemond finds himself in the crowded ballroom, surrounded by nobles and courtiers congratulating him on his new union. He forces a fake smile onto his face, nodding stiffly in response to their well-wishes. All the while, his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. He needs to get away from all these people, to find a moment of peace before he has to pretend for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, you were stuck talking to a group of ladies-in-waiting, exchanging hollow pleasantries, and discussing the latest court gossip. However, you can't help but feel suffocated by the small talk and false smiles. After making your excuses, you slip away from the group and disappear into the crowd. Aemond watches as you slip away from the group, a grim smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly where you'd go; after all, it was one of the few places he avoided himself. Quietly, he makes his way through the crowd, heading towards the same secluded garden where he knew he would find you alone. When he reaches the arched trellis covered in vines of climbing roses, he stops, his gaze trained on your silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Well, look who decided to join me," he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his piercing gaze. A jolt of surprise courses through you, but you quickly regain your composure and straighten your shoulders, refusing to show any hint of emotion. "I didn't come here for you," you reply coolly, your voice steady and determined. "I came here because I needed a moment of peace from all the insufferable chatter in there." Aemond narrows his eyes, studying you closely. He can see the tension in your body, the stubborn resolve in your eyes. But he also notices something else, something softer beneath the surface. "You're doing a good job pretending you don't care," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But don't fool yourself. You might hate me too, but we are married now…and we will have to learn to live with each other….."Run all you like, my lady. But you are mine now, and there's no escape."

You bite your lip hard, the sharpness of his words cutting deep. You wanted to retort, to spit back a scathing response, but the weight of his words sinks in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I am not yours," you retort, your voice firm and resolute. "And I never will be. We might be married, but our hearts and minds will always remain our own. I will tolerate you because I have to, but do not mistake tolerance for affection." Aemond laughs a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the quiet garden. His eyes flash dangerously as he steps closer to you, his tall frame looming over yours. "Oh, how delightful," he spits out, his voice dripping with scorn. "You expect me to believe that you've consented to this marriage solely for the sake of the realm? That you don't feel even a shred of fear or dread at the prospect of sharing my bed?" His gaze drops down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he continues, "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" You stiffen, goosebumps pricking at your skin as he draws closer. You refuse to let him see your fear, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is it not enough that I've agreed to tie myself to you for the sake of our families? Do you expect me to be giddy with excitement at the prospect of bearing your children?" You hold his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "I am not your property, Aemond. And I never will be."

Aemond grinds his teeth together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The sight of you standing defiantly before him only serves to fuel his anger. 'How dare you speak to him in such a manner? Who did you think you were?' "Do not presume to dictate the terms of our relationship," he growls, stepping even closer until you are mere inches apart. "We are wed now, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to cooperate, I assure you, things will be far more unpleasant for you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white under the strain. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "I am not a child, Aemond. I may be forced to suffer your touch and endure your company, but do not mistake that for submission or acceptance. I will never be your faithful little wife."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his face contorting into a snarl. The raw hatred in his gaze is palpable, his fury barely contained. "So be it," he seethes, taking another step forward until you are practically touching. "If you insist on playing the defiant maiden, then know that I will make your life a living hell. Your days of freedom are numbered." Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. His words send a shiver down your spine, the venom in his voice making your stomach churn. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly. "Because I assure you, Aemond, that I will not be cowed by your petty threats. I am not some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. I am a dragonrider, and I am not afraid of you." Aemond's expression hardens, his icy lilac eye reflecting the cold, unyielding stone of the castle walls. He studies your face, taking in every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of fear in your eyes. "So be it," he finally murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "We shall see who breaks first."

The days pass with a tedious routine. Aemond and you have an unspoken agreement: you keep out of each other's way, each avoiding the other whenever possible. Aemond spends his days training and strategizing, while you engross yourself in your books or spend time with your friends. The only moments you do speak to each other are brief and polite, both of you keeping up appearances in public but keeping a respectful distance in private. Aemond strides into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He scans the room, his gaze landing on you seated at the high table. Your beauty catches him off guard, and a sudden rush of heat surges through him. It's been weeks since the wedding day and yet he still finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He approaches you, his strides confident and purposeful. His hand gently grasps your wrist, pulling you close. "Tonight, you're to accompany me to the feast," he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

You stiffen at his touch, your skin hot under his fingers. "I assume that's not a request," you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice laced with irritation. You glance up at him, your expression impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affects you. A smirk tugs at the corner of Aemond's mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he replies, his voice low and firm. "It would be wise for you to remember that." You scoff, rolling your eyes at his arrogant demeanor. "Of course, My Lord," you reply, your tone dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Because heaven forbid I refuse to be at your beck and call." You let out an audible sigh, your patience already wearing thin. "Very well," you respond, your tone laced with resignation. You adjust the loose braid over your shoulder and meet his gaze with a defiant lift of your chin. "But don't expect me to pretend to be happy about it."

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. Despite your protests, he can't help but find your spirit alluring. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he found himself strangely drawn to you. "As long as you understand that I won't tolerate any more of your insolence," he warns, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tonight, you will behave like the royal you are, or face the consequences." You raise an eyebrow at his warning, your expression defiant as ever. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not some common wench to be ordered around," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm. "And I will not bow to your every command like some mindless sycophant. So, if you expect me to behave like a 'royal,' you can forget it." Aemond's lips curl into a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He steps closer, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, his words carrying the weight of a deadly threat. "You forget yourself," he growls, his eyes burning with a cold, fiery intensity. "You are my wife now, and I will not tolerate any further insubordination. You will learn to respect me, or you will regret it."

You hold his gaze, your own eyes flashing with defiance and fear. You try to mask the flicker of anxiety that flits through your expression, refusing to let him see how his nearness affects you. "Is that a threat, Your Grace?" you reply, your voice steady, though your heart hammers in your chest. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "Because let me assure you, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this miserable union." Aemond's eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain control. His voice lowers even further, becoming a chilling whisper. "It most certainly is a threat," he seethes, his grip tightening around your wrist. "And one you would be wise to heed, my dear wife." His eyes flicker towards the nearest window, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over you. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next because once I'm done with you, there'll be no turning back."

The Great Hall is packed from wall to wall with guests celebrating yet another lavish feast. Servants weave through the crowd, bearing trays of food and wine. You sit beside Aemond, dressed in a deep red gown, your hair loose and free, flowing down your back. You remain silent, your eyes scanning the room blankly as you sip your wine. Aemond observes you quietly, taking in the way you hold yourself and the defiant expression on your face. Aemond watches you from the corner of his eye, studying your reactions. His gaze lingers on your delicate profile, the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips. He can feel the tension between you, a palpable energy that hums beneath the surface. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, causing you to jump slightly. He withdraws his hand quickly, not wanting to draw attention to the interaction. "Are you enjoying the feast?" he asks casually, trying to engage you in conversation. Your eyes flicker to his hand, then back up to his face. Your heart skips a beat at the brief contact, but you immediately push the feeling away, replacing it with your usual defiant expression. "As much as I can, considering I'd rather be anywhere else," you reply, your voice cold and distant as you take another sip of your wine.

Aemond watches you closely, his gaze intense and probing. He feels a pang of frustration at your aloofness, your refusal to bend to his will. He knows he must tread carefully. "Regardless, I am glad you decided to join me tonight," he says, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "You look… lovely." Your eyes narrow at his compliment, your guard immediately going up at the unexpected compliment. You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, your expression skeptical. "Spare me the sweet talk, Aemond," you respond with a roll of your eyes. You take another sip of your wine, your gaze fixed on the crowded hall. "We both know this is nothing more than a forced performance for the sake of appearances." Aemond clenches his jaw, his gaze hardening. He can't deny your accusation; the marriage is indeed a political arrangement. But despite that, he can't shake off the desire to make you his. "If that is how you wish to perceive our situation, so be it," he replies, his voice icy and controlled. "However, do not mistake my efforts to keep you safe and respected as mere pretense."

You meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly at his words. "Keeping me safe and respected?" you repeat, your voice filled with disbelief. You set your wine goblet down on the table with a thud, your hand trembling slightly. "You dare to speak of safety and respect after everything you've done to me? You've forced me into this marriage, held me captive in this castle, and now you expect me to believe you're some kind of benevolent protector?" Aemond grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He knows he should have anticipated this reaction, but your words still sting. Aemond stares at you, his eyes darkening with anger. The room seems to close in around him, the laughter and chatter of the guests fading into insignificance. He had thought he could maintain a semblance of civility, but your constant defiance was pushing him to his limits. "Do not test my patience," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I may have agreed to protect you, but I am not without my own needs. And I warn you, if you continue to resist me, you might just find yourself facing the true extent of my power." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "In time, perhaps you might come to understand that I am not the monster you believe me to be."

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as you stare back at him. Fear dances across your face, but it is quickly replaced by defiance. "And what would that take Your Grace?" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to remain strong. "For me to see beyond your cruel and controlling demeanor? For me to accept your rule without question, to submit to you and bow down before you like some mindless puppet?" Aemond's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with fury. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain. He wants to lash out, to show you who is truly in charge here. But he knows he must maintain some level of restraint, at least for now. "I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I require your acceptance," he snarls, his voice echoing menacingly throughout the room. "But know this. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure that you come to understand exactly who holds the power in this castle." You swallow heavily, your own temper flaring as you straighten up in your seat to look him directly in the eye. "And what, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I follow you like a docile little lamb, fawning over your every command? You may hold the power in these halls, Aemond Targaryen, but you will not break me. I will not be your puppet, nor your obedient little wife."

Aemond's eyes flash dangerously, his temper barely contained. He rises abruptly from his seat, towering over you. His hand tightens into a fist, the veins in his neck pulsating with the force of his rage. "You are treading on very thin ice," he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Your defiance will only lead to your downfall." Aemond's face twists into a scowl, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. He can hardly believe your audacity, your blatant disrespect for his authority. But he reminds himself that you are young, inexperienced, and easily manipulated. "You are correct," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom. "I will not break you. Instead, I shall teach you your place, and remind you that disobedience comes with consequences." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away from the table, leaving you alone amidst the crowd of feasting guests. You watch him go, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your heart races in your chest, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you. "Arrogant bastard," you mutter under your breath, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. "And an overly dramatic one, too." You sit quietly for a few moments, trying to calm your racing heart. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your goblet of wine. You take a large mouthful, swallowing it down quickly and wishing it was something stronger.

Aemond stalks away from the table, his long strides carrying him swiftly toward the entrance of the great hall. His blood boils with anger, his heart pounding in his chest. He can still feel the heat of your defiant gaze seared into his skin, and it only fuels his fury further. Reaching the entrance, he steps outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The cool night air does little to soothe his raging emotions, but he stands there nonetheless, staring out into the darkness, lost in his thoughts. You having regained your composure, decide to slip away from the festivities and seek solace in the gardens. You quietly make your exit from the feast, the noise and laughter fading as you venture into the quiet of the gardens. The cool night air and the stillness bring a sense of peace, helping to calm your rattled nerves. You walk along the cobblestone path, your footsteps cushioned by the grass, your thoughts consumed by the events of the evening. The image of Aemond, his expression twisted with anger and rage, lingers in your mind, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

Aemond remains on the balcony, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you. His initial intention was to let you stew in your anger, to teach you a lesson about crossing him. But as he stood there, alone in the night, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He knew he had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. But damn it all, you tested his patience like no other. He had never met anyone quite like you - stubborn, headstrong, and defiant. Yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and turned back towards the great hall, ready to return and face whatever challenges awaited him. You had found a quiet spot in the gardens, away from the noise and hustle of the castle. You sat on a stone bench, the chill of the night air nipping at your skin. Your heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, and the anger and fear faded into a dull throb. You looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds in the inky blackness. A feeling of peace washes over you, the garden providing a peaceful escape from the tumultuous emotions of the evening.

Aemond reenters the great hall, and his earlier anger somewhat subsides. He moves through the crowd with a practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the facade of a gracious host. Despite his efforts, his mind keeps wandering back to you, and the defiance in your eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds himself making his way towards the gardens. He has no clear plan or purpose, merely a desire to see you again, to gauge your reaction to the earlier confrontation. You continue to sit in the garden, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The quiet ambiance of the gardens helps to soothe your frayed nerves, the sounds of crickets and soft rustling leaves providing calming background music. As you sit there, deep in thought, you sense someone approaching. Your heart rate quickens, wondering if it's Aemond. You turn to look, your eyes widening slightly as you see him walking towards you. Aemond walks into the gardens, his movements silent and stealthy. As he approaches the bench where you sit, he stops suddenly, taken aback by your beauty. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your face, accentuating the delicate curves of your features. "Forgive me for disturbing your solitude," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could not help but notice your absence from the feast. It seemed…unusual." He takes a step closer, his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, his voice breaking the quiet serenity of the garden. You turn your gaze up to him, his presence so close that you can nearly feel the heat radiating from his body. Your guard goes up immediately, your shoulders tensing involuntarily. You force yourself to stay calm, to not let him see how his presence affects you. "I needed some time away from the noise and commotion of the feast," you replied, your voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside you. Aemond studies you closely, taking note of the subtle changes in your demeanor. There is a certain tension in the air between you, a palpable energy that he finds both intriguing and intoxicating. "It seems we share a similar sentiment," he murmurs, stepping closer until you're mere inches apart. "The noise of the feast can become tiresome after a while." He gazes deeply into your eyes, his own dark and intense. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, the proximity of your bodies causing a shiver to run down your spine. You tilt your head up to look at him, refusing to back down despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your pulse quickens under his scrutiny, but you force yourself to remain calm and composed. "Yes, it can be quite overwhelming," you agree, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart. "Sometimes, a little solitude is necessary to clear one's head."

Aemond notices the flicker of defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. He admires your strength, your refusal to bow down to his authority. It was refreshing, unlike most of the women he encountered who were either fawning or fearful. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admits, his voice low and gruff. "Your spirit is fierce, your determination unyielding." His gaze drops to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You feel a surge of pride at his praise, but quickly stomp it down, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words affect you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at your lips, but stubbornly refuses to allow it to show on your face. You keep your expression neutral, despite the rapid thrumming of your heart. "Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. He leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. The heat emanating from his body is almost unbearable, yet you don't move away. "A compliment, always a compliment," he whispers, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "It would do you well to remember that." You resist the urge to close the gap between you two, your body betraying your will. The sound of his voice, so close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly parched. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, forcing your voice to remain steady as you respond. "And what if I choose not to remember?" A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you. It excites him and stirs something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing loudly in your ears. Your body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the heat from his body seeping into your own. Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, you can't help but shiver involuntarily at his words. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin defiantly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I dare you to try."

Aemond chuckles softly, finding amusement in your daring challenge. His eyes gleam with an unholy light, a predator recognizing another predator. This was more fun than he had anticipated, more thrilling than anything he'd experienced in a long time. "Very well, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Consider yourself reminded." Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Your body is a jumble of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, intrigue. You bite your lip, your mind warring between the desire to push him away and the inexplicable attraction you feel towards him. "And what exactly are you going to remind me of, Your Grace?" you say, your voice coming out a little too breathless to sound as defiant as you would like. A devilish smile curls the corners of Aemond's lips as he hears the slight hitch in your voice. He steps even closer, his body almost touching yours. He can smell your scent, sweet and alluring. It sends a wave of desire coursing through him. "That you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That every inch of you is mine to claim."

Your breath hitched in your chest, your heartbeat quickening at his words. The intensity in his eyes and the possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. But despite the powerful attraction you feel towards him, you're also intensely irritated by his blatant disregard for your autonomy. "I don't belong to anyone," you say, your voice trembling slightly, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "And you don't own me." Aemond scoffs, his eyes flashing with irritation at your defiance. Yet, there is a spark of admiration in his gaze as well. He respects your spirit, your unwillingness to bend to his will without a fight. "Do you really believe that my lady?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble. "You may think you're strong enough to resist me, but I assure you, resistance is futile." Your frustration mounts, your temper flaring at his arrogant confidence. The fact that he sees you as a mere object to be claimed, despite your protests, drives you to snap. "You're such an arrogant prick," you hissed, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "You think just because you're the Prince, you have the right to possess anything and anyone you desire, regardless of their desires or feelings."

Aemond narrows his eyes at your harsh words, a dark scowl crossing his face. He doesn't like being challenged, especially not by someone he considers beneath him. But he also can't deny the thrill that runs through him when you stand up to him, the spark of defiance in your eyes igniting a fire within him. "Watch your tongue, my lady," he growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Or I might just decide to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Your eyes flash defiantly, the anger coursing through your veins making you bold. You step closer to him, your bodies almost touching now. "You think threats will make me submit to you? You think I'll bow down and give in because of your status and authority?" you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. "I'll sooner die than submit to someone like you." A flicker of surprise crosses Aemond's face at your boldness. Most people cower under his intense gaze and commanding presence, but you seemed unaffected. If anything, you appeared more determined, more defiant. "Well then," he says, his voice low and deadly, "perhaps we should see just how far you're willing to go." Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stand your ground, refusing to back down despite the danger in his voice. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you challenge, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. "I'm not afraid of you."

Aemond studies you closely, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your defiant expression. There's a certain allure to your bravery, your refusal to bow down to him. It's intoxicating, and it makes him want to explore further. "So be it," he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Let the games begin." A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his words. You can feel the danger in the air, the electricity between you crackling with tension. But you refuse to back down, no matter how your heart may be pounding in your chest. "You won't win," you retort, your voice a defiant whisper. "I won't let you." A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you both. It excites him and makes him feel something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. You clench your fists, your heart racing with adrenaline and fear. you are caught in a storm of emotions, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife. Aemond's predatory gleam makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him see your fear. "Maybe it's time for you to learn the meaning of losing," you replied, your voice surprisingly defiant despite the tremors that were coursing through you.

Aemond's laughter echoes around the air, a chilling sound that sends a shudder down your spine. His eyes, full of untamed lust and dominance, never leave you. "Oh, I don't lose, my lady," he drawls, his voice filled with arrogance and confidence. "Remember that." Aemond's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. He lets out a low growl, his other hand tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, teasing you, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Just remember, my lady," he whispers into your ear, his voice dripping with dominance, "you started this game." A gasp escapes your lips as his hand encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip on your hair is firm but not painful. The way his teeth graze your neck, just barely touching your skin, makes your heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. You swallow hard, your body responding to his touch despite your determination to resist him. You try to calm your rapid breathing, but it's difficult with him so close to you. "I don't lose either," you whisper fiercely.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest, vibrating against your body. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. "Oh, I believe you, my lady," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a seductive purr. "But we shall see who truly comes out on top." Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and you fight the urge to lean into him, a combination of fear and anticipation. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you retort, your voice shaking slightly. "You might be powerful now, but you haven't seen my strength." Aemond's laughter echoes around them, a dark, menacing sound that sends chills down your spine. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer still. His other hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your jawline. "Oh, I've seen your strength, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "And I can't wait to break you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. The feeling of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart pound in your chest. You looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try," your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on you tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, my lady," he warns, his voice a husky whisper. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy." You stare up at him, a mix of fear and anticipation. You can feel his hot breath on your face, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. "Save your threats, Your Grace," you say. "They won't scare me." Aemond's hand slides down from your cheek, tracing a path along your neck before moving lower. His fingers dipped beneath the neckline of your dress, his touch scorching against your skin. His other hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

Aemond's lips crash down onto yours, his hand cradling the side of your face. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, asserting his dominance. His other hand travels down your body, tracing along the curve of your hip before squeezing your ass firmly. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. His hands continue their exploration, pushing under your dress to find bare skin. Caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness, you stiffen in his arms. But as his tongue explores your mouth, you find yourself melting into him, returning his kiss with a passion you didn't know you had. His touch on your body ignites a fire within you, and you can't help but press yourself closer to him. Despite your growing desire for him, you know you can't give in completely. You pull away from his kiss, panting heavily, your body trembling with need. Aemond's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you take. He trails his fingers up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your center. "Running away so soon, my lady?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you were braver than that." You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips. You know you should pull away, and put an end to this madness, but your body betrays you, yearning for his touch. "I'm not running," you admit, your voice shaky. "Just… reminding myself of who's actually in charge here." You spoke before taking a deep breath and sat him down on the bench which didn't do much for the height difference other than how much closer you were face to face now.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest as he watches you, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger. He slides closer to you on the bench, his body almost touching yours. "Oh, I think it's quite clear who's in charge here, my lady," he purrs, his hand moving to rest on your thigh under your dress, his fingers slowly edging towards your panties. You swallow hard as you feel his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your panties. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. "Well then, Your Grace," you say, forcing a smirk onto your face, "I suppose it's time we find out just how submissive you can be…" A devilish grin spreads across Aemond's face as he hears your words. He leans in, pressing his hard cock against your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. "That I did, my lady…" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "And now you're going to get exactly what you deserve…"

Feeling Aemond thrust into you, you let out a sharp gasp. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. You arch your back, your nails digging into the fabric of the bench as you try to adjust to his size. "Aemond…" you manage to whimper, "it hurts…" Aemond grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your tight walls clenching against his invading cock. He withdraws slowly, only to thrust back in deeper, filling you completely. "It's supposed to hurt, my lady," he groans, "that's how you know it's real…" Feeling Aemond's thrusts, you can't help but let out a series of soft moans. As much as you hate to admit it, there's a part of you that's starting to enjoy this. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of tears and desire. "Please… slow down…" she begs, her voice shaking. Aemond grins down at you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you senselessly.

"Don't worry, my lady," he murmurs against your lips, "we've only just begun…"

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd

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aegonx · 2 days

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I only wish to serve my king and my house.

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aemondfairy · 2 days

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A Little Wicked

summary: Your captor summons you to his quarters and offers you a deal.

pairing: Aemond x Witch!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, power imbalance, threatening, reader is Aemond’s prisoner, dubcon, fingering 18+ MDNI

note: Inspired by Alys, of course 💚 but no physical descriptors! Idk how I feel about this but yeah…… Feedback is appreciated!

How did the saying go? When a Targaryen is born, the Gods flipped a coin? A 50/50 chance to ascend to greatness or be destined to descend into madness. It served as a reminder to the great family that dragons or not, they were mortal like everyone else. For the rest of the realm, it served as a warning: The Targaryen’s were a force to be reckoned with. Intimidating, unpredictable. When the Targaryen’s wanted something, only a fool would deny them of it or stand in their way. Aemond Targaryen was no exception to this folklore. He teetered on the brink of insanity majority of the time.

You shivered as you sat in the cold, damp dungeon. The only light came from a small barred window high up on the stone walls. You could hear the faint sound of dripping water and the occasional scurrying of rats. You wondered how long you would be trapped here.

“You, girl!” One of the burly men guarding your cell called, metal keys clanging in his hands.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen has requested an audience.”

You had been waiting this moment since you first arrived: judgement day. What would become of you? Would you be granted mercy? You weren’t even sure how many days had passed since your house was burned to ash and you were thrown in this dungeon.

Once the man unlocked the chain around your wrist, you struggled to rise to your feet, anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Come now, girl. The prince does not like to be kept waiting.

The darkness of the chamber seemed to breathe along with the prince. The room where he took solace was beautiful and spacious, but yet you found it to be almost as eerie as the dungeons. Aemond sat in a large leather chair eagerly awaiting your arrival. Across from him was a small dining table and a wooden bench big enough for two. Without uttering a word, he motioned for you to sit down. You obliged, nodding at him and smoothing your dress as you did so. Before you was a small plate with freshly baked bread and a small goblet of wine.

“You must be hungry,” he stated, “eat.”

Hungry was an understatement, you were starving. You took a rather large bite of the bread, washing it down with the wine. It was the best wine you had ever tasted. You were thankful to have something to calm your nerves.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here.”

You swallowed the bread with quickness and wiped your mouth of any possible crumbs.

“That is correct, your grace.”

Aemond leaned forward so that his elbows were touching his knees, a fox-like grin plastered on his face.

“How polite you are,” he noted, “what do you know of me?”

Truth be told, you didn’t know much about Aemond Targaryen. You were aware of his cruelty. You knew that ever since he took over Harrenhal your life had become hell.

“You’re… Aemond Targaryen,” you blurted out, hoping he would not berate you for stating something so obvious. “You’re the second son of the late King Viserys… You were crowned prince regent not long ago, and your dragon is called Vhagar.”

You watched intently as Aemond took a sip of his own wine, silently praying you did not say the wrong thing. His Adam's apple bobbed in the candlelight as he swallowed — the longer you stared at him you realized he was actually quite handsome. Your thoughts of admiration for him were interrupted once he spoke.

“Very good. Now, would you care to know what I know of you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood, striding over to approach where you sat. A knot formed in your stomach as he plopped down next to you, his good eye piercing through you with scrutiny.

“I know that you’re a wet nurse,” he began as his good eye flicked to your breasts so quickly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I know that you are a bastard of House Strong,” the tone of his voice had been laced with venom. You knew he hated your house and you knew he hated bastards. A thin line of sweat began to form on your forehead and your heart raced as you waited for the prince to speak again. Instead he inched closer, his hand ghosting over your thigh.

“As interesting as those facts about you may be, would you like to know the most intriguing of them all?”

Too overwhelmed to speak, you remained silent. Only giving him a simple nod in response.

“I know,” he stated as his large hand now gripped at the flesh of your thigh over your dress, “that you’re a witch.”

His statement made your blood run cold. Aemond’s fingers traced the edge of your jawline, lingering at your pulse point. Your breath hitched once again as his thumb brushed the throbbing vein beneath your skin.

“Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

He was correct. Your late mother had been teaching you magic since you were a young girl. You possessed the gift of foresight, being able to see into the future and the past. However it wasn’t so black and white. You had much to learn before your craft was perfected.

“I am not as powerful as you may have been led to believe, my prince.”

Any doubts you had of yourself, Aemond did not seem to agree on, he did not even acknowledge you. His hand found its way further down and under the skirts of your dress. Large fingers probed between your legs, pressing hard against your clothed sex. You tensed up, your breath leavingyour lungs. Your body betrayed you as you felt arousal blooming within you, dampening your small clothes.

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions as Aemond’s hand ventured deeper, snaking its way beneath the waistband of your undergarments. Fear mingled with desire, leaving you torn between pushing him away and surrendering to the agonizing threat of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. It's not as if you had much of a choice in the matter.

"I believe that we can be of service to one another," he whispered against your neck, licking lightly at the sensitive flesh. Two of his fingers teased at the bud between your legs, pinching at it lightly as they became sticky with your slick. A wave of pleasure rippled through you and you squirmed beneath him. Involuntarily your body jolted forward, allowing him better access to the spot he was exploring.

"Together, I believe we can conquer many obstacles and even achieve success."

You cringed as a moan escaped your lips.

"You shall remain loyal to me and me only," he said as he pushed his fingers inside of you. He chuckled darkly as your body trembled under his touch.

"The practice of your craft is to only be done in my presence," he continued as his fingers pumped in and out of you, stretching you deliciously — almost, but not quite reaching that spongy spot within your walls.

“You will use your powers to the best of your ability and for my benefit and in return, I shall spare you your life.”

Another moan erupted from within you as he hooked his digits up slightly, pressing into the spot you needed him most.

“Do you think you can be a good girl and obey my rules?”

Your cunt began to squeeze around his digits in response to the nickname.

As he grazed the rough patch inside of you and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushed down on your stomach while he continued to thrust his fingers. You felt your body shake and tremble as your orgasm began to wash over you at an embarrassingly quick pace. Aemond watched in great amusement as you came undone beneath him. In this light you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, your hair unruly and your cheeks flushed crimson. A sight he would never grow tired of.

He removed his fingers from your slick and gave you a minute to gain your composure. You felt a wave of shame crash over your body, unable to look him in the eye. How did you succumb to him so easily? Thought in the back of your mind you had hoped wasn't going to be the last time something of this nature was going to happen.

Aemond used the same two fingers that were inside of you to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“So,” he smirked “do we have a deal?”

“Yes, your grace.”

He informed you that a guard would be taking you to your new quarters as he bade you goodnight.

As you entered your new quarters, you were taken back by the luxury of it all. The walls were made of stone and there was a large, ornate canopy bed in the center, a major upgrade from your own bedroom, and an even bigger upgrade from the dungeons. To your delight, a steaming bath had been drawn for you and a fresh chemise was laid out on the bed.

This was just the beginning of your very complicated relationship with Aemond Targaryen. You were still a prisoner, you were still afraid of what was to come; but there were worse situations you could be in and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond oneshot #aemond imagine #aemond x reader smut #aemond x you #aemond x witch!reader #house of the dragon smut #hotd #ewan mitchell #my writing

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slavonicrhapsody · 3 days

Text

not to fancast another hotd actor as an elden ring character but I came to a realization

do you see my vision

#elden ring #messmer #messmer the impaler #aemond targaryen

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 19 hours

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Hi! My request is Aemond x reader based on the first episode of season 2. When Blood and Cheese enter Aemond’s room, they find his wife there instead. She resists them, fighting for her life and is able to harm one of them. Aemond arrives and strikes one with his sword, while the other is after executed by Vhagar. Once he sees her on the ground, he runs to check on her and she crumbles into his arms. Aemond is shocked at first, not used to physical touch. This ignites a feeling of great protectness towards reader he didn’t know he had and decides to gift her a knife in case she ever need to defend herself. Hope you enjoyed it ❤️

I could have gone very gore and violent with this one (I'm a horror movie girl), but decided against it as it can be triggering for some

Warnings: violence, blood & cheese, protective!Aemond

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

—

The castle had turned quiet as night fell outside. You undid the braids from your hair, placing each pins on your vanity, before disrobing and replacing your dress with a light nightgown. Aemond had promised he would be joining you shortly, having business to finish with Ser Criston in the drawing chamber.

You reached behind your neck to unclasp your necklace, but it seemed to have gotten caught in your hair. A sigh left your lips. You tried again, but were unsuccessful.

Just then, the door of your chambers opened — Aemond was there.

You stepped out of the bathing chamber, seeking your husband’s help. ‘’Could you help me with my necklace? It seems to be caught in my hair—’’

Air caught in your throat when you saw a man you had never seen before stuffing his pockets with gold pieces he found on a table. Before you could ask who he was — or scream —, another grabbed you from the back and pressed a blade against your neck. You froze in his hold.

‘’Cheese,’’ the man behind you said, pressing the blade harder and cutting your skin.

Cheese, who was stealing, glanced at his friend, confused. ‘’Who the fuck is she?’’

‘’She is the one-eyed prince’s lady, Cheese.’’ He laughed maliciously, pressing the blade against your neck whilst pulling at your hair to expose your neck. ‘’If you scream, I’ll slice your neck.’’

Terror shot through you.

‘’A son for a son, he said,’’ reminded the other one. ‘’Does she look like a fucking son to you?’’

‘’I-I have a necklace. It’s of great value,’’ you offered, your voice trembling.

Your aggressor’s grip tightened, his breath hot and foul against your ear. ‘’You think we’re here for trinkets, woman?’’ he sneered. ‘’We’re here for blood.’’

‘’Where is the one-eyed prince?’’ Cheese asked, ripping your necklace from your neck anyway.

Who were these men, and why did they want your husband?

‘’He…he is not here,’’ you stammered, trying to think of a way to get yourself out of Blood’s grip.

You knew there was a dagger hidden in the bedside table. Aemond kept it there in case he needed to defend himself in the middle of the night and couldn’t get to his sword. But there was no way of grabbing it without the two men seeing through your plan.

‘’Would you like more jewelry? Or gold pieces?’’

The chances of your plan working were very slim, but if you didn’t do anything, your survival was almost impossible. You were not valuable to them. You were just the wife.

Blood didn’t seem interested in money, but Cheese's eyes gleamed with greed. Maybe he would take your offerings, and you could fetch the dagger.

Cheese stepped closer, considering your offer. ‘’Jewelry? Gold?’’ He grinned, glancing at Blood.

‘’Yes. I can get them for you…if your friend releases me.’’

Blood grunted and reluctantly released you.

You moved towards the bedside table, feeling wetness drip down your neck. Luckily, the cut was not deep. You opened the drawer, feeling the two men’s eyes on you, ready to pounce if you tried to escape. First, you pulled out a few pieces of gold, and made sure Cheese could see them. Then, you reached for the dagger, your fingers closing tightly around the hilt.

You thought your plan had worked, but Blood saw the blade and lunged at you, pinning you against the wall.

‘’Uh uh,’’ he said, madness in his eyes as he raised his other hand to press his blade against your neck again. ‘’What were you trying to do?’’

You said nothing. Blood’s hand on your sternum was making it difficult to breathe.

Now that you made him mad, your life was hanging by a thread. So you kept eye contact and blindly drove Aemond’s dagger into his side. Blood gasped, eyes wide with shock, before letting go of you and collapsing to the floor.

‘’Ahh! Fucking cunt!’’

You got away from him, but Cheese charged in turn.

Before he could get to you, the door opened and Aemond entered the room. He instantly noticed the presence of two strangers and his terrified wife, rage flaring within him. Who were these men? How did they get in? What were their intentions? Those questions and more ran through his mind, but he couldn’t even begin to find the answers right now.

Aemond’s jaw clenched in anger as he reached for his sword. It was a silent, swift and deadly movement that echoed through the room.

Having heard the door, Cheese turned, his eyes widening in surprise when seeing the prince, but it was too late. Aemond’s sword struck with precision, piercing through Cheese’s chest in one swift motion. The thief gasped, blood bubbling at his lips as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

Aemond didn’t bother to look at Cheese for even a second. He knew he was dead. He stepped over the body of the thief and came closer to you. The thought that these men — these thieves — had broken into your chambers and touched you. Rage was pumping through his veins, but he needed to make sure you were alright.

He marched over to you, his eye fixated on your neck where the cut was. When his arm touched you, the dagger you were holding clattered on the floor as you crumbled into Aemond’s arms. He caught you, his body becoming stiff from the physical contact.

Your hands clutched at Aemond, refusing to let go of him, shaken and traumatized from the attack. ‘’They were here for you,’’ you mumbled against this chest as tears of relief fell from your eyes.

Aemond furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. For him?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Blood’s body move on the floor and his grip on you tightened slightly. ‘’Let’s get out of here. I must alert the guards and my brother.’’

For weeks, you refused to be left alone in your chambers, scared more rat catchers would break in. To ensure your protection, Aemond had a guard standing outside the door at all times. He never wanted you to be hurt because of him again.

For extra protection, Aemond sat you down gently and presented you with a velvet-lined box. ‘’I had this made for you by our best blacksmith,’’ he said, opening the box to reveal a dagger with dragon scales intricately wrapped around the handle and a sapphire stone set in the hilt.

It looked expensive and exquisitely crafted.

Your fingers traced the scales gently. “It’s beautiful, Aemond. You…you had this made for me?”

‘’Yes,’’ he confirmed, watching you as you examined the dagger. ‘’I wanted you to have something to defend yourself with, should anything like that ever happen again.’’

Flashes of that horrific night coursed your mind. Cheese had died on the scene, his lung pierced by Aemond’s sword. Blood was imprisoned and burned by Vhagar two days after he was found in the tunnels of the Keep.

Aemond moved your hair behind your shoulder, revealing the scarring cuts from Blood’s knife. Guilt filled his stomach. He was your husband, he was supposed to protect you. It was his duty. ‘’I should have been there to protect you.’’

‘’You can’t always be there to protect me. I should have locked the door—’’

‘’None of this was your fault,’’ Aemond said firmly. ‘’I refuse to let you think that. Whoever paid these fucking rats is at fault. Not you.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13@cece05@laylasbunbunny@gemofthenight@beautyb1ade@mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog@queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity @Anouknani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon imagine

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