martelltyrellmont - Tumblr blog

[martelltyrellmont]

[martelltyrellmont]

The myth, the legend, the baddest bitch of all....

[martelltyrellmont]

Last Man On Earth (Aemond Targaryen x reader)

Summary: No one told King Aemond about the Song of Ice and Fire. As the daughter of Rhaenyra, you have one last mission left.

Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of sex, smut, toxic dynamics. Misuse of biblical verses

A/N: I'm about to make so many people angry.

And to the woman, the Father said:

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;

with painful labor you will give birth to children.

Your desire will be for your husband,

and he will rule over you.”

(The Father's Book. 4:22-26)

The letters stopped getting there on your eight and ten name day. Childishly, you waited a few more weeks, telling yourself it must be only a delay. Perhaps the war that went on, or the weather, had detained the ship that carried it. Perhaps your mother had simply forgotten. But deep down, you knew something had to have happened. Rhaenyra Targaryen was not a good woman, perhaps even not a good mother. But she had always remembered your name days.

Your brain refused to believe it, but you knew, deep in your gut, that it was not a mere delay. You had mourned too much already to deceive yourself. Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Daemon, Helaena… The time spent in the Free Cities had served you well, when it came to learning the deep pang of sadness.

First, it had been the death of Luke. Your beloved twin. Then, the loss of your home. Vanished from Dragonstone by your mother, to keep safe. After that, the separation from your half brothers, by then mere babes. It was best, not knowing where they were. If you were captured, it wouldn’t mean the end of Rhaenyra’s line.

Despite the eagerness displayed by both your mother and Daemon to get you out of the Seven Kingdoms, no one had come looking for you very hard. Every once in a while, an overzealous sell sword got lucky, and you had to relocate, yet the occasions seemed to become further and further apart. No one cared enough to keep looking for the only Targaryen unable to claim a dragon, after all these years.

But at the beginning, you had survived on a network of favors. A chain, if you will, set up by your stepfather. First, it had been that friend of his in Pentos, where you posed as his niece, a dark haired, brown-eyed thing no one actually believed came from such a man. Then, you were the daughter of a courtesan in Lys, recently reunited with your mother and with aspirations of becoming a priestess. After that, you had been the cousin of some Lord in Volantis, then a Septa in training in some forgotten convent in Myr. And so on it went. You had perfected the art of shedding names and titles as if they were an old dress. Yet you never claimed to be Valyrian.

Most would think it had been your lack of dragon, the reason for being sent away. It would even be used as an argument against Rhaenyra, in the years to come, “Isn’t she so progressive? But she sent her daughter away because deep down she knows women are not meant for war.” Others would say it was your nature, a meek and shy thing that always faded in the background when your outspoken brothers and cousins were around.

No one would ever guess the real reason. It would mean giving much credit to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the whore. She had realized, a long time ago, that war was brewing. Rhaenyra, much like you, tried lying to herself. But she knew it, deep down. So, when the time came, for her to prepare her heir, the Princess didn’t tell the secret to just Jacaerys. She told Luke and you.

An heir. A spare. A safeguard. And so, you were sent away. When the letter didn’t come, you realized your mission just started. A painfully long journey, hours in the sea. You would think, with how much you had traveled, you would have gotten your sea legs by now. But it seemed even the sea knew the truth about you.

Normally, a Princess would travel with a retinue. Or at least, if she insisted on the lack of formality, her sworn shield. You had not the funds, nor the need for it, anymore. You had left King’s Landing a girl and returned a woman. In your common cloak, and with your dark hair, no one would have ever mistaken you for a Princess.

The ship docked early in the morning, King’s Landing not yet awake. It was a merchant’s ship, filled with spices and a few other passengers. You disembarked in silence, taking in the surrounding city. It shook you to your core. These were not the streets you remembered, filled with people preparing for war. Nor were these the streets your mother talked about, when she reminisced the time when she and Daemon had fallen in love for the first time.

The city was dirty. The stench was much worse than you remembered, and quite different from other capitals you had visited. It smelt coppery and rotten, as if of old blood. At the gates, there was a head on a spike, a cloud of flies so great surrounding it that you had to bat them away to walk.

Silver hair, no eyes, the softest hint of a quirk in the mouth among the rotting flesh. The same one that you often see in the mirror. It was a head you knew well. It was your mother’s.

You tried hard not to gag, and walked past it at a breakneck speed. Careful not to stare. A woman feeling faint at the sight was expected. A woman falling to her knees and bawling her eyes out was treason.

It was hard, after that, to want to help Aegon. The pig had no redeeming qualities. He had been a bad husband to your aunt, an awful commander and a drunk. You had no doubt now he was going to be a poor King. There was, of course, the fact that he had killed your mother and not even granted her the kindness of a Valyrian funeral.

Still, you had to. You had to because the last time you had heard your mother’s voice, you had promised to. Promised that if you ever were captured, the firsts words that you would utter would be those, and not a plea to the Greens for mercy. You wiped at your eyes, harshly brushing the tears away, and put one foot in front of the other. A step. Another. Easier each time.

“This is bigger than we.” Your mother had said, the night you were to depart. Cloaked by the night, a ship was set to sail towards Pentos. Only a cargo of sheep, it declared at the port. Of sheep and a tiny princess, scared out of her mind. “No matter…” She had choked up, the death of your twin still fresh on her mind. In yours. Luke. Your other half, now gone. The possibility of losing the war, before not even a thought on your mind, now a reality. The first loss of many, even if you didn’t know it then. “Aegon’s dream. No matter who wins, in the end. You have to pass it on.”

“You will win, mother.” You had replied, brushing your own tears away. You didn’t know, that evening, that you would see her again, nearly in the same place, lifeless and empty - eyed. “You have to.”

“Oh, my dragon. My sweet dragon.” Rhaenyra had cradled your face in her hands, placing one last kiss to your forehead. “Promise me. You will help them if I die. You will tell. Because it is not about who sits on the Iron Throne now, but when the Song of Ice and Fire will come to pass.”

“Mother…” A sob broke out your throat. “Mother, I can’t. Don’t ask me to betray you like that, not when…”

“You will. You are my daughter. My only daughter. The strongest out of your siblings because you are a Targaryen, but you are also a woman. Your body was made for pain, your spirit to remain unbroken. Remind that, daughter.”

Your ship had sailed away, the figure of your mother getting smaller and smaller on the horizon. But the duty remained at the forefront of your mind for the years to come. And you intended to fulfill it. No matter what.

The state of disarray King’s Landing was in made it easy to sneak into the Keep. Among the mass of beggars and injured, no one noticed a girl making her way through the streets. You snuck in, using a passage Jace had written you about a long time ago. You got in, your presence unknown to the sleeping servants and barely awake guards.

Perhaps it was the fact that it had been Jace, who had taught you how to get in like that. Or maybe it was just a sudden fit of nostalgia. But with the sky barely pink, the Keep strangely empty, you figured there was no danger in visiting the courtyard.

The servants and the Kingsguard had not yet risen. Too early for even the lowliest of servants. Without a second thought, you lowered your hood. The space was vacant, you had dark hair and a common cloak. No one would notice you if you kept your eyes lowered.

The space looked odd, without the sparring men and the flock of admiring ladies. Still, it looked smaller than you remembered. That thought triggered a memory. Jace. Jace had said the same thing, and then he had turned and…

You walked a few steps and pressed your hand to the mark on the wall, eyes closing. A tiny sob escaped you. It was still there. So much had changed, yet the mark on the wall remained. You could picture him, clear as day, hair windswept, eyes sparkling with wonder. Slightly younger than you, sweet. Warm. Yet your hand only found cold stone.

Lost in those thoughts, you didn’t notice the light footsteps approaching you. You only did, when a familiar voice spoke, a heavy hand falling on your shoulder.

“And who…” Before you even had a chance to try to flee, your uncle, the man that you hated the most, was turning you around. Aemond. Now, nothing in your life has been easy. That was probably why you should have expected the first member of the Greens you would encounter to be him. “…Niece?”

Slowly, as not to startle him, you lifted your hands, pushing your hair back, so he could get a good look at your face. You drank him in, familiar, yet so foreign. He no longer wore the eye patch, but the sapphire eye and the scar were as prominent as ever. Responsible for the death of your twin and stepfather, and turned a formidable commander by the end of the war, having been humbled by defeat. Too many, dead by his hand.

Aemond looked startled at the sight, as if he was looking into the eyes of a ghost. His face paled, lips stretching into a tense grimace before the mask fell back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

"Uncle Aemond." You lowered your head, feeling clueless about what to say. Here’s the man you have nightmares about. Here’s the face that haunts him so. "How have you been?"

"I had better days.” Aemond took your hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow. His eye glittered dangerously, madly. “Walk with me.”

The years had done him good. That much was clear. He had now the look of a man who was used to getting his way, to never being told no. You wondered if sleep proved so elusive to him as it did to you now.

There was almost a pained expression on his face, all sharp angles, that the soft light of sunrise did nothing to light up. Aemond was skinnier than you remembered, taut muscles and dark circles under his eyes adding to his handsomeness. Your uncle had always looked otherworldly, fae like, but now, he looked barely human. Targaryens had always been closer to gods than men, Daemon had used to say. It had never resonated with you in the way it did now.

“You put me into quite the conundrum.” Aemond said, walking you towards the gardens, pace unhurried. He barely dared look at you. You figured, for him, it was more painful. Lucerys must wander his dreams in the same way it did yours, yet you had grown accustomed to seeing the face looking at you in the mirror.

For Aemond, it must be his personal haunting, seeing in you what Luke could have been, had he not cut his thread so early on. You had played that game enough. So many afternoons spent in front of a mirror, watching your reflection get further and further away from what Lucerys had been. So many, thinking that your face was blurring his.

Here’s a secret. Losing a twin is like having a severed limb. An extension of yourself you took for granted and are not, ever, getting back.

Just as you are, Aemond is gathering himself. So, you wait the silence out. You don’t notice the two guards falling into step behind you, when you pass a more transited hallway.

“What is it that you seek? Surely, you don’t intend to rally an army.” He finally asks, and it comes out wrong. Short. Clipped. But not hateful, in the way it used to be, when he crowed Lady Strong in your ear. It feels wrong. Calculated. Like a dragon playing with its food.

“No, Kepa.” You muttered, words sweet, hoping High Valyrian would soothe him. There is something in you telling you to run. Pure, raw instinct, the one we all have. When you see a predator, you run and don’t look back.

Aemond turned towards you, and raised your hood, placing it tenderly over your head. The touch a parent would give to a child. You closed your eyes, delighting in the softness of the touch. You would despise yourself for it later, thinking you had encouraged him. But right now, it has been so long since someone with your same blood touched you. Someone who shares your eyes. For a second, the familiarity makes you think of better days, when both of you were children and Jace and Aegon and him ran around these same halls.

“If you go now, I won’t chase you, little niece. Too much blood has already been spilled for me to wear the Conqueror’s crown. I do not know what prompted you to come here, but I can…” But whatever he was going to say, it was nothing more but static in your ears. You felt like one of the dolls your mother gifted you when you were a child. Head full of wool, limbs weak as if made from string.

His mouth kept moving, lips forming words in a distance. Yet you didn’t hear. Your mind could only fixate on one thing. You stumbled, feet getting tangled in the edge of your dress and cloak, or maybe you were just dizzy with shock. At your sudden move, Aemond’s grip tightened against your arm.

“Niece. Niece.” He muttered urgently, pulling you outwards with such force it would bruise. “You didn’t know, I take it.”

“I didn’t know, Ke… Your Grace.” You dropped into a hurried curtsy, pulse beating loudly in your ears. Your body felt like it was on fire. It explained the changes in him. It made sense, despite your reluctance. Aemond wore the crown well.

“What did you think, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond chuckled, humorlessly, pulling you to your feet. “So it wasn’t defiance, but ignorance. Hardly a worse sin.”

“I thought… Aegon, or his children…” You trailed off, realizing what it actually meant. If Aegon was not wearing the crown his family had fought so hard to place on his head…

“Dead. Aegon killed your mother, but not before she gutted him like a pig.” Aemond shook his head, seemingly unaffected by the topic of discussion. “His hubris killed him, more than Rhaenyra. He dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but didn’t count on her being the truest of them two.” Then, as if realizing what he said, he fell silent. Remembering the time he too had dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but won.

“Experience always trumps, does it not, Your Grace?” You regretted the jab the moment it left your mouth. Aemond let go of your arm, angrily pushing you away. His hand went to his belt. You looked at the sword, hanging there, and felt the urge to retch. Dark Sister. Not only had he killed Daemon, he had taken his sword as a souvenir.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” He said, purple eye burning with anger. His frame towered over you, yet you didn’t flinch. You were the blood of the dragon, as much as he was. More so. Stronger, with an iron will. Because you were half Targaryen, but you were a Targaryen woman. “The blood of Rhaenyra lives on you, contesting my claim to the throne. Despite it, you have marched into my hands willingly. The Seven know with what purpose, byka tolīmorghon. Do you have a death wish?”

“How many dead, Kepa? How many of us left?” You needed to know. Needed because it was essential to your task. No matter how much it hurt.

“None of yours.” Aemond said, and you covered your mouth with your hand, choking back a sob. “None of mine, either. Mother and Helaena… Neither could take it. I rule over ash and bones. The great houses, diminished beyond belief. The dragons… I rue spilling your blood, niece. 'Tis the source of my conflict.”

“I came here to tell you a secret.” You blurt out, before he gets second thoughts. Your eyes keep watch of his sword arm, just because his hand is too close to his belt. It’s not because it makes it easier, not looking at him. At all.

Aemond listens to your story in silence. You tell him all you know, from the blade your mother had said still exists, to the belief your Grandfather and her had in the dream. How he needs heirs, desperately. Anyone, as long as it is his blood.

“I had suspected.” He finally says, shoulders dropping. Aemond looks exhausted. You wonder exactly how heavy the crown is on his head, how much of a burden it is to try to rebuild a country that has been through a civil war and a conquest in less than fifty years. The coffers must be empty, and he speaks of no nobles to tax. To do so on his own… You would go mad. Perhaps he is, already. Too much blood and the latent Targaryen madness, always ready to pounce. It had taken your mother, too.

But there is no one else to rule. You don’t voice those thoughts. You just stare at him, waiting to be dismissed.

“There is no written mention of it, of course. Or else either your stepfather or I would have found out. I have read every book on our history I could get my hands into. I bet Daemon did, too.” And he speaks of it so casually, too. You want to slap him. You can’t. To do so it’s treason. Instead, you curtsy at him, intent on being dismissed, even if you have to prompt him.

He glares. He does not speak a word. You risk a look at his face. Aemond is angrier than you have ever seen. And it’s nothing like it was before the war. It’s a cold thing. A quiet anger, that twists his face into something that reminds you of the portraits of Maegor the Cruel. You take a step back. Then another. Somehow, you know, he will not let you leave these gardens alive. You still try.

“You are the same as your mother.” Aemond said, quietly. You stop, dead in your tracks. “Just as irresponsible.”

“Excuse me?”

“You came here, to drop your mess in my lap, and now you intend to leave?” His hand grips at your wrist, painfully tight. Tight enough to bruise. Aemond snarls, baring his teeth.

“What do you want, Your Grace?” Your tone comes out pleading. Scared. Like a dog showing his belly to a more dominant one. You hate it. “Let me go.”

“You think I will let you leave, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond laughs. It sounds… Ugly to hear, all twisted. It holds no humor, only disdain. For the poor, silly little girl who thought she could get away.

“Are you going to kill me?” You take another step back, shrugging off his grip. Someone unsheathes his sword. Startled, your eyes are drawn to the source of the noise. And when his guards started to approach? They are cornering you. You have one on the left and Aemond is taking the right. Your back hits the wall.

“No, you won’t walk away that easily. You are staying, niece.” Aemond pressed closer, cornering you even more. Here was a man pushed past his limits, his eye seemed to say. A sudden thought crossed your mind. He was the King. But there was no mention of a Queen.

“I… No. No, uncle. Let me go, now.” You started struggling, dread pooling in your stomach. Surely, you had misinterpreted his meaning. He could not, not when he prided himself on being a trueborn Targaryen.

Aemond merely smirked. It was clear he had noticed, by your increased panic, that you finally understood. A slap. Skin against skin, both of his hands trapping your wrists now. The sound, so loud to you, so similar to the closing of cuffs. He couldn’t. Not with how much he scoffed at your bastard, dirty blood.

“You have Targaryen’s blood. And I need a wife. Kind. Sweet. Pure.” His grip shifted, now holding both of your wrists in one hand. With the other, he pulled you close. You didn’t resist. You just looked at him, helpless. The guards, probably used to seeing much worse from their King, didn’t even flinch. “Strong. To be queen, to give me many heirs.” Aemond nuzzled the top of your hair, hands coming to grasp at your waist, hugging you against him.

“You are insane.” You tried to shrug him off, aware that if you kicked or pushed him too hard, he could have you charged with treason and put to the sword. You didn’t dare fight him in earnest and he knew it. Trapped. He had you cornered.

“Maybe. Maybe. But you are staying. And you know it.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shrieked, as if your skin was crawling at his touch. It was not. You hated it. He was warm and hugging you, and you hadn’t been comforted in so long. None of the guards tried to help you. They didn’t even glance at you.

“That’s not… You can’t, Your Grace, please.”

“You could have sent a raven. Or a pageboy. Yet here you are, pretty little tolīmorghon. Mine to ruin. You will marry me.” You understood, then, what he meant to do. Aemond didn’t even like you. He was going to break you. Just as he was, shouldering the same weight you had tried to push on him.

Aemond was as tortured as he was dutiful. He wanted to drag you into his hell, too. Because it had been unfair, in his eye, that so many of your family had escaped responsibility by death. He was not giving you the chance to do the same.

“Uncle…” You begged, starting to tear up. Aemond released you, roughly. He gestured to a guard, who wordlessly slid into step besides you.

“Go change, niece. That is not proper attire for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” And with a little shove, you were made to march towards your old chambers by his guards.

The Mother blessed them and said to them,

“Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

(The Smith's book. 1:32-36)

“Your Grace.” The maid said, becoming him over. Aemond rose from his seat immediately at the sight of her. Corlys, his hand, remained unbothered and nodded in approval. He, too, felt this matter was more important. Ambition. The death of many good men.

“Ah, Margaret. Has the Queen finally worn herself out?” Aemond asked her, noticing her slightly concerned expression. He wasn’t too worried. No dragon liked chains. A bit of destruction was expected from your sudden captivity.

“Your Grace, I don't think she is fine.” The maid whispered, worriedly.

“Did she hurt herself?” Corlys asked, plainly. Aemond knew he was not truly interested in your condition. You two had no contact, since you were sent out of the Seven Kingdoms, and there was no family resemblance. He only cared that you were able to sit on the throne next to Aemond. And it was fine by him. Corlys could look out for the Velaryon last name, Aemond would look out for you.

“No, she's… sitting there.”

“Crying her eyes out?” Aemond nearly snorted at the question. It was clear your alleged grandfather didn’t know you.

“Staring blankly at the walls.” The maid answered, and at that, Aemond grew slightly concerned. You must be planning something. Better be on guard.

“It's a good sign. She has calmed down.” And as Corlys reassured the maid, Aemond left the room, walking towards your chambers. He made sure to only leave his sword behind, carrying instead a dagger. Least you got ideas. He didn’t fully trust you yet. Slowly, he opened the door, surprised by the amount of destruction you had caused in such a short amount of time.

“What a tantrum, niece.” Aemond spoke, softly, eyeing the torn curtains you had knotted together and were in the process of throwing down the window. The bed was sheetless, you had clearly used those too for your makeshift rope.

“Back off or I will jump.” You warned, still busy with your rope. Aemond shook his head.

“Now, I would say throwing down the table and chairs was overkill. You have frightened your maid.” He slowly advanced, unbuckling his belt. You glared.

“Don’t you dare!”

Aemond nearly laughed. He was the King and here were you, a tiny slip of a girl, trying to tell him what to do. Your eyes darted nervously towards the window. He knew as well what you were thinking. It was a big fall.

“Helaena jumped out of one of those.” He got even closer, and tugged the makeshift rope out of your hands. You let go of it easily, too distressed to really think. “I’ll not make the same mistake as Aegon.”

He would not. You were not escaping this. It must be fate, what else? Out of all the people, you were the secret keeper. Sister to Lucerys. The last of your line. Aemond was the last of his, too. The two last true Targaryens, out of all.

Aemond liked the symmetry of it all, he had realized. There was something about it being the death of your twin what started the war, and your marriage ending once for all the division in the Kingdoms. Life and death, both by his hands. You would eventually give him a son. He was no dreamer, but he could feel it. And when his son finally took the throne, a perfect mix of Greens and Blacks, all wounds would be healed. That would be Aemond’s legacy. Finally mending things.

It was not all, though. It was a form of penance, too. A way of never letting him forget, through the rot of it all, that it had all been his fault. In his mind’s eye, he could see you growing older, next to him. And for every line that appeared on your face or neck, Aemond would wonder if that’s how Lucerys would have looked.

Aemond moved even closer. You slapped him, uncaring of the consequences. What a fierce little thing you had grown into. Hot headed. Not very queenly. Aemond pursed his lips and shook his head, taking the slap without complaint. You were entitled to your rage, having the moral high ground. Your hands were not stained like his. But he couldn’t stand for you escaping. He needed you.

So when you tried to duck around him, Aemond pounced. It was not that he was very convinced of the dream. He had a distaste for dreamers, even if Helaena had been one. They often spoke in riddles, never saying what they meant. For all you knew, Aegon’s dream could have been a metaphor for some other event and not a great threat. But you were his path to redemption.

So many nights he had spent on his knees, at the beginning of the war. Praying for a sign, or a chance to fix things. To fix what he had broken. Along the way, he had lost faith. Perhaps the Seven didn’t listen to him, for his soul was already tainted. Perhaps, all the death around him was a punishment for all his faults. And then you showed up. His byka tolīmorghon. His little ghost.

What was he supposed to think, besides that you were the answer to his prayers? After all, he had been favored by the Gods, or so everyone said. It was the Seven, who gave him the Iron Throne. It was his godly given right to rule. Surely, your return was a sign.

You didn’t even make it to the door. Aemond grabbed you by the hair, dark strands curling around his fingers as if rings. How fitting.

You were shrieking something, but he was not really paying attention. It was probably a cry for mercy or insults. He was not too worried about it. Aemond was more concerned about restraining you, else you try to hurt yourself. You had little to lose, after all, and were stubborn enough for it. Oh, he could feel the headache starting.

He needed you. And you thought you needed him. It was easier than it looked. You two could collaborate. The Seven knew he required all the help he could get, with ruling a country that was more ashes and corpses than real people. You could not exactly get Targaryen heirs without a Targaryen husband, and apart from the lost babes, there was simply no one else around.

“Why must you vex me so, tolīmorghon?” Aemond marched you toward the vanity, dragging you by the hair. He threw everything that was on top of it away with a dismissive gesture, and slammed your chest down on it, careful not to slam your head in the process. “You always make everything difficult.”

His grip shifted, from your hair to the back of your neck, making sure to keep you down. You whimpered. The slam had clearly scared you. Good, Aemond thought. Perhaps a little fear would make you listen.

With ruthless efficiency, he had tugged your wrists behind your back, kicking your legs open without a second thought. Tying his belt around your wrists had been easier, once you started to cry. It was clear the consequences of your actions were starting to sink in and that you had no much fight left.

“Not so eloquent now, niece?” Aemond couldn’t resist but taunt, pulling you to your feet. The motions were practiced. He tried not to think from where he had acquired that knowledge.

“Fuck you, kinslayer.” You screamed. Aemond laughed. It seemed you had fight left, then. A shame the insult was not very good. The moniker didn’t hold the weight it once had, after the war. Half of the Targaryens had turned into kinslayers by the end of it.

“Oh, if you only knew.” He grabbed a handkerchief from the floor, no doubt one of the ones that had fallen from his purge of the vanity, and held it in front of your face. “Open up.” He demanded.

You glared and turned your head away. Aemond pinched at your nose. You, ridiculous little thing, held your breath until you started to go red. There were tears on your cheeks, and your lips were turning an alarming shade of purple. Aemond idly wondered if it was from the lack of air or how hard you were pressing them together.

“You do realize you either open up or you pass out, and I gag you anyway, right?” He arched an eyebrow.

You opened up, finally, spluttering and coughing. A shame he stuck the cloth inside your mouth just then.

“Now.” Aemond ordered, full of the confidence only ruling could give. “I will speak and you will listen. Do you understand?”

The cloth muffled your scream.

Women. So tiresome. Aemond rolled his eye, waiting until you tired of the dramatics. Your stubbornness was admirable, in truth. Like a carriage wreck, he couldn’t stop looking at how you worked yourself up. You were both screaming and bawling your eyes out at the same time. After a few minutes of ceaseless struggle, you slumped down, sweaty from the exertion.

“You will bathe after this, of course. I can’t have the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms walking around like that.” He finally offered, amused. “I will not hurt you, little fool. This marriage will help unite the Kingdoms again.”

You stared blankly. Aemond nodded, guessing it was a bit unfair to wait for your input.

“You see. There is still division between Blacks and Green. Were you able to produce a child, both claims would rally behind him.”

This time, you seemed slightly more frightening. Probably at the prospect of laying with him, which, fair. He had not had such a good first experience either, and it had taken him quite a long time with Alys to even try again. Aemond guessed it was likely more frightening, as a woman. It didn’t matter whether your body responded or not, it was happening anyway.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, softly, and grabbed at another handkerchief to clean your face. He kneeled in front of you, despite your panicked attempts to pull back, and softly dabbed at your wet cheeks. “I think two years is a prudent time to get you to give yourself up to me. I would give you a lifetime if I could. But we are not getting any younger, and I need an heir.”

You tilted your head to the side, as if questioning. You were rather puppy-like. It reminded him of your twin even more. Aemond gave you a sad smile.

“You were insistent on getting heirs made, if I understood correctly. I think we can manage to raise children that will not slaughter each other.”

A scoff. Aemond wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth next. Quite undignified, really. Oh, if his mother was watching him from above, she would be laughing at his expense. He had had to learn the art of cooperation the hard way, but it had proved fruitful in getting his ends. Much more than all the anger he held in his youth.

“How hard can it be?”

Your glare was his only answer. Aemond knew he was slowly getting through you. Perhaps a little more kindness? Empathy? What a foreign thing. He had not exercised that much, in the last few years. Ruthlessness was what had given him the throne. But he was willing to try, to get what he wanted.

“You have a point there. Well. I will not treat you badly. I will be a kind husband to you. You will rule by my side.”

This time, your look shifted from distrust to disbelief.

“Funny thing, isn’t it? Neither of us were meant to get the throne, yet…” Aemond shook his head, and softened his tone. He knew just the words to make you budge. “I need your help, if we are going to pull this off. You must truly believe in that dream, if you risked coming here.”

A nod. He had you. Aemond tried not to smirk, knowing it could undo all his work at gaining your collaboration.

“Can I trust our agreement, then, and take the gag off?”

You nodded again. He pulled the cloth off, careful not to hurt your mouth.

“If you are good, I will untie you next.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a pious man?” It was a curious thing, that that was the first sentence you chose to say. Still, Aemond didn’t want to break the fragile trust that was forming between the two of you, and so he decided to indulge you.

“I’m not certain, anymore.” He answered, carefully. It was the truth. He had been so sure, once, that the Seven guided his steps. That the Crone lit up the right path for him to take, that the Father led him to fair decisions. It had all shattered when the Stranger had entered your lives.

Yet here you were. A gift, from the Maiden herself. A Queen, for a King who had nothing. Much like she had done for Hugor of the Hill.

“Isn’t there something on the Seven Pointed Star about this?”

“There is also something about attempting on one’s own life.” Aemond glared at you, pushing your chin up with a finger to take a good look at your eyes. He was deeply displeased by your threat, even if it was an empty one. It had rattled him, the reminder of Helaena. “Any attempts on your life will be dealt with swiftly.”

Aemond couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t see Luke fall to his death again. Even if it meant locking all the windows in the Keep, and taking away all the knives. Or keeping you tied with silk ropes. Whatever that was necessary.

“You said you wouldn't hurt me.”

“Oh, it won't hurt you. Too much.” And it was the truth. He had learned quite a few interesting methods of discipline, while he traveled to different settlements during the war. Aemond was willing to practice them on you, if it meant you stayed by his side.

And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

(The Mother's book. 12: 22-23)

It was an odd feeling. Getting ready for your wedding in your mother's chambers. Much to the King's displeasure, none of your old gowns fitted you. He had offered to get you new ones, but after seeing that Aemond had kept most of the rooms in the Keep untouched, you had chosen to wear one of your mother's.

It still smelt like her. Entering the room felt like time had stopped. Everything was exactly as it had been, except there was no Rhaenyra sitting on the couch.

You opened the chest of gowns, placing it carefully on the rug. At your back, Ser Willis cleared his throat. With an annoyed noise, you stepped back.

“Do not be angry, my Queen.” The Kingsguard said, as he opened the trunk and efficiently took away all the bottles and pointy objects he could find. “The King does this with your welfare in mind.”

After the incident at your old chambers, you had been moved into Aemond's personal ones. He was never there, after all, being an insomniac and a workaholic. But his had the great advantage of being near the ground floor.

Your behavior had allowed you to graduate from bound wrists and a gag to a constant shadow. Willis Fell had been tasked with your protection from all threats on your life, including yourself.

“I didn't really mean to attempt on my life!” You said, frustrated. “And do not call me Queen, I'm a Princess in my own right.”

“To a claim that no longer exists, your Grace.” The man repeated, cheerfully. “It matters not who you were, but who you are now. If King Aemond says you are to be called Queen, then you are.”

You huffed, angrily, and ignored him, quickly picking two gowns. Aemond had demanded they were in the Blacks' colors and not the Velaryons. It had brought great displeasure to the Lord Hand. Your grandfather had wanted to see you enter the Sept in his colors. He would have to conform with handing you to Aemond.

Corlys Velaryon made you have mixed feelings. On one side, there was the fact that he had changed sides faster than one could change cloaks, after your mother was dead. On the bright side, he was the only ally you had in court. The only person willing to oppose Aemond for your sake.

It was a curious choice, on Aemond's part, to keep him so close. It was a good show of unity and forgiveness, a proof of the noble heart of the King. Or maybe it was because he had control over other, low-level threats to his throne. You had heard Rhaena and Baela had survived the war. They had already confirmed their attendance to the joyous occasion, but you were not allowed to meet them alone. You would have to wait until tonight, when the feast took place, or even tomorrow, at the wedding.

“What do you think, Ser Willis?” You showed the man two gowns, one crimson red and one black. “I do not think black is proper for a wedding, but wearing two crimson gowns seems too much. Perhaps… The black one at the feast?”

"I think this one is a bit…” The knight trailed off, and you looked at it closely. He was right. It was the dress of a matron, too dark-colored for a wedding, too grown up for you. Your mother had worn it the night that your uncle made his toast. Gods, you had all been so young. You remembered how beautiful she had looked in it. “What about the dress your mother wore for her own wedding? It is still there. I saw it.”

You lifted some dresses, searching for a light colored one. A beautiful gown of white and gold, one you had discarded because it didn’t fit the criteria Aemond had set, and its significance was lost on you. You didn’t know that had been your mother’s wedding dress. Rhaenyra at eighteen had been a petite woman. You clutched at it, wondering if it would even fit you. It could probably be adjusted, or copied.

“Thank you, Ser Willis.” It didn’t hurt to be polite with the man. He had been on Aegon’s side, and had been quite outspoken with his disapproval of your mother and Daemon. But he was only doing his job. Aemond was the one who had ordered you not to be left alone at any time. Sometimes, you were grateful for it. It helped ward off your loneliness. Other times, it got suffocating.

“A pleasure, my Queen. The King will not be able to keep his eye off you. A good match, you are.” He offered, smiling at you. You had learned he seemed to thrive on courtly manners.

You gave him a sad smile and passed him the dresses to carry. As you walked, you noticed it was starting to get late.

“May we ask for the maid? Margaret? I wish to change for the feast.” Your guard nodded, and repeated the order to the guard outside Aemond’s chambers.

Margaret was the one that had the duty to guard you when you were doing womanly things. It was a good system, you had to give it to Aemond. He had thought of everything. It gave time for Ser Willis to rest and eat, and it gave you slightly more privacy and a companion.

You despised his thoughtfulness. You didn’t want to like him. He had murdered your twin, after all. But your mother had murdered Aegon, even if in self-defense, and ordered the murder of one of Helaena’s kids. Children. There seemed to be no morals in any of the sides.

After your forced truce, you had seen little of Aemond. He had slowly given back your freedom, in the two weeks he had had you by his side. The planning of a royal wedding in such little time kept you busy. You never wanted Alicent, in your life, but you found yourself longing for her. It was hard, after a life of exile, to remind all the stuffy rules of courtesy in the Seven Kingdoms. Alicent had been great at even, much more than your mother and Daemon.

At first, you had been constantly on edge, as if you were waiting for the executioner’s sword to fall on your neck at any time. But the more the wedding approached, the more you realized Aemond had no devious plan to lull you into a false sense of safety and then kill you. His only devious plan was marrying you and giving you half the responsibilities of running the Red Keep.

Slowly, he had been piling them on you. The better you behaved, the more you were trusted to oversee. It was not the incentive he probably thought it was, but it kept you busy. It was you, who had to supervise the servants and manage the finances, now. You were consulted on what should be served at feasts, asked about settling arguments. Aemond’s wife in anything but name, the acting Lady of the Red Keep. Soon, noble children would be sent here, and it would be your responsibility to mind their education.

It was an adjustment. Making sure there was sufficient in the stores was hard, as it was monitoring where all the money went. It was not like being the wife of any lord because your finances impacted on those of the Kingdom. It had brought you closer to the servants, asking for advice on how to do your duty properly. And it had allowed you to learn quite a few things about Aemond.

One. He was an insomniac. He went to bed late, when you were already asleep, and left after only four hours, five at most. Aemond might be sharing your bed, but you never saw him. He disliked the dark, too. He used more candles on his nightly walks than you did in a week.

Two, he forgot to eat often. Aemond was an overall workaholic, and thought everyone was, too. Frequently, his meetings would drag on and on, and he would skip lunch. It was a comical sight, when he was with the small council. The lords, the Hand included, would flock out of the room as soon as they were dismissed. Then, in a very undignified manner, they would dilapidate the kitchen, messing up your tracking of the stores.

Third, he had taken a liking to poetry. It had greatly perplexed you, when you found that your household now included two poets. You had grown used to minding them too, and tolerating their strange ways.

Margaret entered silently, placing a bucket of water in a corner. You took your hair down and started to brush it, hurriedly. Margaret went to attend to the clothes you would wear to give you privacy to bathe. When all the painstakingly process of getting a Queen ready was done, you exited Aemond’s chambers and ran right into him.

He was already dressed for the feast, wearing a rich black doublet, the Conqueror’s crown on his head. His long silver hair was held back in a half updo, much simpler than what your father used to wear. Still, he looked regal.

“Ah, niece. I see you are ready.” Aemond offered his arm, gently. Careful not to move abruptly, less he spooked you. “Shall we?”

You take his arm, fighting the impulse to flinch in disgust. Your brother’s killer! The thought echoes around your head. But also, the last Targaryen standing. You need to get used to it, you promised your mother you would not allow the Song of Ice and Fire to ruin Westeros. Targaryens have to multiply. If it meant carrying his child, then so be it.

Aemond says nothing. He seems amused by your internal conflict. You will be his Queen, soon enough. His touch has to stop surprising you. It could be much worse. Aemond could have killed you, or kept you locked up. Instead, he has offered something very generous.

The hall looks exactly as when you left. The faces, though, are changed. Despite the houses' colors and sigils being the same, you don't recognize anyone but the Hand. There is also Tyland Lannister, who you know sits on the small council. Or you hope it's him. You were never able to tell the Lannisters apart.

Most of the crowd gasps when you and Aemond enter the hall. The dress was a statement, one that was not seen in quite a few years. Red and black, and previously worn by Rhaenyra, it made clear where you had stood.

“...So he is going through it…?”

“Look at her, the bastard daughter of that whore…”

“Wasn't he engaged to a Baratheon?”

“... Worse than Maegor, the bitch… Taxes through the skies…”

“She is his niece!”

You braved the whispers, clinging to Aemond's arm. Idly, you considered running away. Far from all this nonsense and back to the Free Cities. It was too much, hearing these people call your mother a whore and the second coming of Maegor, when her head was still on a spike, and they sat here, plump and rosy from the good life.

You knew Rhaenyra's reign had not turned out well. And that whatever her and Daemon had been up to, it had driven her mad in the end. She had executed and murdered many, and been a poor ruler, blinded by panic. But she was still your mother. A human being. A Queen. Whose head hung on the city's gates as you were made to marry her replacement.

When you finally made it to the table, Aemond pulled your chair out for you, and pressed his palm against your back. A warning. You didn't know how, but he could tell what you were thinking. He would not tolerate any kind of scene from you, he had stated. Nothing that made him look weak, or you would regret it.

“Good evening.” Aemond said, remaining standing behind your chair. It was an odd position to choose while addressing his subjects, but it was one that showed his power over you. “I thank you all for coming to witness such… Joyous occasion.” He smirked, squeezing your shoulder. You couldn't fight the slight dropping of your fake smile.

“Tomorrow, the division between the Blacks and Greens will finally be over. And it's all thanks to this wonderful woman.” Aemond took your hand and raised it to his lips. He certainly knew how to put on a show for the masses. When you were children, he had been much less charming, although he had had his moments of political savviness. The engagement to the Baratheons, for example. His taste for the dramatic, unfortunately, had always been there. Take that awful speech, for example.

His lips were cold against your skin. You shuddered.

"A toast." He said, looking directly into your eyes. The perfect picture of the dutiful fiancée. You glared, but gave him an even brighter smile. You disliked being made a show. “To my niece. The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The crowd cheered. Aemond sat down next to you, prompting the servants to start serving the food. You didn't speak a word. It was the first time you ate together after two weeks of sharing the same chambers.

You poured him wine, noticing your grandfather's expectant eyes on you. The conversation on the table was stilted. The King didn't care much for noise, so the council spoke quietly and formally. None thought to include you.

"Thank you." Aemond said, and placed a few cuts of meat on your plate.”When you finish dinner, I will be expected to socialize. You are welcome, but not forced to do the same.”

“Are Rhaena and Baela here?” You looked at him, eagerly. They were the only people you were excited to see.

“We have agreed it would be best if you saw them tomorrow, after the wedding.” Corlys interjected, smoothly. Aemond grunted. Ah, how cunning of the Hand. To meet your once sisters-in-law to be after you couldn't escape.

“I understand. Well. I think I will enjoy the company of your council, Your Grace.” Your tone was polite, but firm. No room for argument. All these stuffy lords, eager to go spend money in the brothels, were now stuck in your company. It surely wasn't winning Corlys any friends.

You smirked. Aemond finished eating, and with a kiss to your crown that was all for show, departed.

At first, you made conversation with the Grand Maester, about the latest book releases and how the war had nearly killed the industry.

"Not enough people want to read, your Grace. Terrible. I do hope, when we open the Red Keep to children again, you will teach them the importance…"

"I think that's enough." Corlys said, offering you his hand. "I think you owe this old man a dance, granddaughter." And he couldn’t lose the chance to lord his relationship with you all over the rest of the lords. It would be simply too much to ask. He was still the same ambitious man he had been back then, when you didn’t really know he was not your grand sire.

"Of course." You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into a polite dance. Your grandfather was a graceful, still a handsome man. You could see what Princess Rhaenys had seen in him, once.

“I do not begrudge you, Your Grace.” Corlys said, as he twirled you.

“Begrudge me?” You asked, once he had pulled you in once again.

“You and I know your father was not going to sire children in any other way. He loved Jacaerys, Lucerys and you like you were his own.” He whispered, quickly. Your smile froze. Was he really…? “Joffrey more so, since he got to pick his name” Corlys teased and you relaxed. He was offering you his support, and you were not fool enough to refuse him. Despite not knowing his motives.

“I… You shouldn’t.”

“I know. Your future husband would have my head. But know that you are Laenor’s daughter in all the ways that matter." Corlys gave you a polite little bow, as the song ended. His parting words left you more shaken than you wanted to admit. "And that come fifty years down the line, no one will remember what you looked like, or who sired you. They will only remember your maiden name, Velaryon, and your husband’s."

You were alone in the middle of the dance floor, too stunned to even speak. So that was his motivation. The Velaryon name, on the Iron Throne. The accounts later would call you the granddaughter of the Lord Hand, much like Queen Alicent had been the daughter of Otto.

A new song started. The crowd started to dance again, pushing at you. Immediately, Ser Willis started to make his way towards you. His ever vigilant eye never lost anything. Deciding to make his job easier, you walked towards a less crowded corner, so he could reach you. But as you waited, another man approached.

“Lady Velaryon.” The man dropped into a bow, so deep it might as well be kissing the floor. A Stark, by the sigil on his cloak. Quite handsome too. He was around Aemond’s age, but looked much friendlier. You jolted your memory. Jacaerys had mentioned a Stark in his letters. "You look just like your brother."

"Cregan Stark?" You asked. At his nod, you gave him a small curtsy. “Lord Stark, pleased to meet you.”

Ser Willis, still far away, touched the shoulder of another Kingsguard. They both crept closer.

"Are you safe?" Cregan grasped your hands in his, in quite a bold move. To touch the King’s betrothed, it was an offense that could be punishable by death if Aemond so chose. And none of the people gathered in the hall would blame him for it. Daemon had killed men for much less, and so had your mother. Targaryens weren’t rational, when they thought someone to be theirs.

Cregan’s words were spoken in a hushed tone, but not enough for your guards not to hear. You gave them a nervous look.

"Yes." You answered to Cregan, hoping it was convincing enough that he wouldn’t try some foolish plan to liberate you, when in fact, you hardly needed one. Your agreement with Aemond was enough. You truly had nowhere to go, you were tired of running, and you were fulfilling your mission. It was your mother’s will. She had said at any cost. You won’t disappoint. If Cregan Stark wanted to take you away from your only purpose, he would have to drag you away, kicking and screaming.

“You don't have to marry him, my lady. The North would back you, you could have an army.” Your smile froze. Those were dangerous words, no matter how low they were muttered. Treacherous. Was everyone in this feast intent on getting killed?

“I am marrying him because it is my duty.” You squeezed his hands, hoping he would get the message. Ser Willis stepped closer to you, ready to intervene. The other guard went away, surely to look for reinforcements.

“Is it, to marry your family's killer? My lady, there is no need…”

“There is something stronger, binding the King and me.” You interrupted, firm but polite. Why didn’t he get the hint? A pair of arms snaked around your waist. So the guard had not gone looking for reinforcements, but Aemond. You relaxed into his hold, knowing he wouldn’t let Cregan Stark take you away and try to save you from yourself.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, the cold crown he wore bumping against your head. You were not a small woman, but he had to lean down to be able to kiss you. By the look on Lord Stark’s face, it didn’t make him less intimidating in the least.

"Ah, Lord Cregan. How good it is to see you.” His voice was mocking, taunting. “What are you doing with my betrothed?”

“I… Your Grace.” The Stark flustered, helplessly looking at you to save him. You gave him a cold look, knowing that if you intervened, Aemond could take it as a show of favor towards the man. Not only would it doom him more, but it would also get you punished. You didn’t fancy walking into your wedding with bound wrists.

“Surely not convincing her to run away?”

“I…” Your eyes closed, trying not to think of the destiny of this man who tried to help you and now was going to have a bloody ending for his troubles.

“I know many men would want a wife like her.” His grip turned slightly more possessive, hands digging into the bodice of your dress. Insinuating something. Painting a nice picture for Cregan Stark. “You were recently widowed, were you not?” Dismissive. A power play. One of his favorite things.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Beautiful. Learned. Strong.” Aemond hooked his chin over your shoulder, smiling at the other man. As if you were nothing more than a prize to be won. But the nickname was too much. You lean back, and stomped on his foot. Aemond made a gurgling, pained sound. The Stark raised his eyebrows in surprise, but made no comments. He surely was thinking about how he had misread the situation.

Cregan Stark would never understand it. He was a good, honorable man. And you and Aemond were everything but. He was tainted by war, you were tainted for rolling in the mud with him. Both dishonorable, both self-interested. Both lying to yourselves, telling you were doing this for the greater good.

Targaryen blood called to each other like moths to a flame. Slowly, you stumbled into each other's arms, thinking yourselves the last man and woman on earth. You were not. If you were to have a child with any other man, those children would still be Targaryens.More so if Aemond had children with another woman. Perhaps, it would even be more useful, producing more children. Neither of you voiced it.

It was an excuse, the Song of Ice and Fire. But a useful one, for both of you.

"Worry not, wolf. I know a woman like her is enough to lead any man to insanity.” Aemond squeezed your hip, and you knew, the snide little remark was not for Cregan but for you. “I will take your words as they are, nothing more than courtly love and deep admiration for my niece.”

“Cursed is the ground because of you;

through painful toil you will eat food from it

all the days of your life.

It will produce thorns and thistles for you,

and you will eat the plants of the field.”

(The Father's book 5:12-16)

It was a strange sight. In the Velaryon’s cloak, all dark hair and eyes. It was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes, the truth of your heritage. Yet none of those who stood in the Sept dared say a word.

The good thing about being King? The truth was what he said it was. Aemond suddenly understood his father more and more. Viserys had chosen to deny the truth until the bitter end, and there was nothing that could be done about it. As long as the King protected you, bastard or not, you were safe.

Aemond wondered if you realized the amount of trust you were placing in him. Should his Hand decide to deny your heritage, it was only Aemond’s word that shielded you from being put to the sword. Still, if the choice was between you and Corlys Velaryon, Aemond already knew who he would pick.

You had not opposed him. You had not installed a maritime block on the Seven Kingdoms, making the common folk suffer from the lack of food for not declaring for Rhaenyra. You had not switched sides.

As you approached, on the arm of the same man that he was currently plotting to kill on your behalf, Aemond was a little dumbfounded by how beautiful you were. When he had first seen you, all grown up, he had thought you pretty. A sufficient distraction to curb his loneliness. Now he knew, you were not pretty. You were otherworldly.

You didn’t look anything like a true Valyrian. Your beauty was not the same as the one his cousins had. He had been foolish, thinking that your darker features put a damper on your beauty. The sun kissed skin, the enchanting eyes… It only added to your charm. It had taken him two weeks to realize it, and it was a shame. You were more than just a projection of Lucerys he could use to torture himself.

When the time came, Aemond draped his cloak over you, placing you back under the Targaryen’s red and black. He couldn’t help but give you a smug smile. You looked good on his house’s colors. Better. Like you belonged in them. It didn’t matter, that you had come out of the womb with a strong resemblance to Rhaenyra’s sworn shield. You were half Targaryen, and as far Aemond was concerned, that was the half that mattered.

Velaryons. What a joke. Who wanted Velaryons, when they were too ambitious for their own good? When they were unable to bring children into the world safely? No, he decided. You made the perfect Queen because you were not a Velaryon. You had performed every task he had set for you perfectly. Born to rule.

The wedding passed in a blur. It felt as if he barely blinked and suddenly, you were both saying your vows and were being hand fasted together.

“Wife.” You turned towards him, all wide dark eyes. Slightly scared. He leaned down, and whispered in your ear, to warn you. “I’m going to kiss you, then we will retire for the night.”

“But Rhaena and Baela…” You started to protest, but Aemond leaned down and kissed you. It was only a peck, a brush of the lips. It was enough to quiet you. You shyly looked down, the image of a sweet maiden. The lords clapped, politely.

There would be no Rhaena and Baela. He was already thinking of a way to take Corlys out of the equation in case he ever became an obstacle. It would do not good, if you were too attached to the girls, and he had to kill their grandfather.

“You can see them tomorrow, tolīmorghon.” Aemond took your tiny hand in his. You were cold and sweaty in his grasp. Anxious. He nearly smirked. You would grow out of it, he was sure. Aemond was already ruining you, and you didn’t even realize, too worried by the others. He had seen how you didn’t jump to Cregan’s aid.

“But… The guests… The feast…”

“I will keep my promise, if that is what worries you.” Aemond tucked a soft strand of hair behind your ear. Careful, careful, to sound teasing and not like he resented it. “But since I do not get to bed my wife, I want to at least get to spend the night with her.”

“You have been spending the nights with me.” You muttered to him. He almost laughed. Clueless thing that you were, to think your nights were spent with him.

Aemond started leading you away from the guests, and towards his chambers. He was eagerly awaiting to watch you sleep. A thing he missed from before the war was the ability to get a full night of sleep, but Aemond betted watching you do it would be nice. Your face held still childlike innocence, and most probably perpetually would. It was that damn combination, of Harwin’s puppy eyes and being shielded from war. Asleep, you would surely look like an angel.

He liked your purity, compared to other ladies of the realm. You had known of the horrors of war, but you hadn’t actually seen it. Sometimes, he thought he had chosen to keep you because of it. You didn’t know what kind of monster Aemond really was. How much blood stained his hands.

You knew he had killed Lucerys, you knew he had taken Harrenhall. You didn’t know he had executed all the men there, children and elderly included. You knew he had killed Daemon, you didn’t know exactly how many times he had stabbed him, until both Caraxes and Vhagar were both plunging to their deaths. You knew he was a killer. You didn’t know sometimes he didn’t regret it.

“I have spent nights with you?” He asked, amused. Most women would be terrified to share his bed. Not you, apparently, if you had thought Aemond was sleeping by your side already and had made no fuzz.

“Where are you sleeping, then?” You opened the door to his chambers, already used to the creaking hinges. As if those had been your chambers your whole life. “I thought…”

“I have been sleeping on my study.” So you went to bed every night and fell asleep thinking he would later join you? It was cute. Perhaps keeping you would be easier than he thought. Aemond was halfway there already. “It wouldn’t have been proper, otherwise.”

“And you are all about property.” He ignored your taunt, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The satisfaction he felt was too high to be bothered. Not only did he had you already, but you had slowly started to trust him.

You wanted to stay. The state of his rooms showed it. He was a tidy man, and liked to keep his rooms the same way. Still, there was something enchanting about the way you had taken possession of the place during the past two weeks. Your gown, placed over the bed, surely by your maid. A few books on the left side of the bed, that were definitely not his. A tiny pair of slippers just next to the fire.

Aemond nudged you towards the armchair. You sat down without complaint, looking at him with curious dark eyes. He kneeled in front of you and helped take off your shoes, placing the slippers on your feet instead. The skin of your ankles was soft and vulnerable. He gave it a gentle rub before sitting back on his haunches.

“I brought you here because I have something to tell you.” Still on his knees, worshiping another effigy. Aemond liked the parallels of it. So many nights, spent asking for forgiveness at a Sept. More nights, he would spend at your feet, begging for atonement to his own personal goddess.

“Why are you on your knees?” You asked, looking down at him, eyes so sweet and pure, not even the Maiden herself could compare. How many nights, would it take? How much time, until you became a sinner like himself? “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Aemond cleared his throat. He looked up at you, suddenly feeling fear choking him. Expiation was not an easy thing. The High Septon himself had said, before spluttering some nonsense about how if he wore the Crown, it was by the grace of the Seven and their favor. Not because he had been the last one standing in a pit of gladiators fighting to death. Not because he had been the only one not to drown in the rivers of blood that followed.

The thought of ruining your innocence, turning you like him, was a thought that warmed him and filled him with dread. After it, Aemond would never be alone again. You would be just like him, broken, ruined, dirty. You would never leave his side because you would understand there was no other place for you but by his side. And just as he did, you would love him and hate him in equal amounts.

But you were so pure. Filled with good intentions and loyalty. Sweet. A balm to his wounds. It would be lost when you turned like him. The one good thing he had found for himself, broken beyond repair.

The silence went on and on. Aemond finally broke it, by speaking in a tone so soft, you might not even be able to hear. Confessing.

“I didn’t kill Luke on purpose. It was…”

A twitch of your mouth. The Maiden come to life, growing impatient. Eyes cold, as if they could erase him from existence.

You would not like this truth. It had all been for nothing. The death of your twin, the war… It was never meant to happen. A foolish mistake. If he had truly meant to kill the boy, perhaps this mess would make some sense. Frame it as a war between bitter enemies, and not family, with combatants that were barely out of childhood.

Or children themselves. Like Lucerys and you had been.

“It was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar. I shouldn’t have, and I despise myself for it, every day. I wish I had never…”

Never chased after him. Never set Vhagar on the smaller dragon. Because back then, he had not been a bad man. That morning, Aemond had been happy. Celebrating an engagement that brought honor to his house. He had not rolled out of bed thinking of killing a child. How few hours of innocence he had left.

No one had told Lucerys how few hours of life he had left, either.

A sob. Aemond can’t tell if he voiced all of that, but by your horrified look, he has. It feels like being stabbed in the eye all over again. Worse than Daemon nearly taking his head off.

It takes him a while to recognize the feeling that curls around his stomach, makes him want to throw up, as your gentle hand presses over his head, prompting him to rest it on your lap.

As you said the words he so craved to hear, he finally got it.

“I forgive you.” But could you, really, when you didn't know what you were forgiving him for?

Shame. It’s shame, the feeling in his stomach. He had not felt it in a long time.

Shame, for what he had done to wear this dammed crown. Shame, for killing Luke. Shame, for what he was about to do to you.

The months go by. You start sleeping on the same bed. Rigid. Side by side, as if children. Slowly, your bodies start to curl against each other. Aemond, always awake before you do, wonders if you realize. He moves away before you wake, but your body always seems to search for him when you sleep.

It’s a cold marriage. One of duty, or so the rest of Westeros thinks. Even the Lord Hand is fooled by it. Aemond has heard the maids whisper about it, about the poor, pretty Queen, trapped into marriage to a monster. Wasting her beauty and sweetness on a man who doesn’t see her.

As a team, you work well. Outside your chambers, your relationships and interactions are extremely polite. The Seven Kingdoms have never been more prosperous than under your combined rule. Aemond is pleased with his legacy. Give it a few more years, if he doesn’t ruin anything, and he will go down in history not as a kinslayer but as the bringer of the golden age of Westeros. The arts prosper, the people are educated and well-fed, the crime rate is low.

“What a dreadfully boring marriage.”

“Duty. Only that. I would go mad, if my husband never touched me.”

“Do you think the King is like Ser Laenor?”

Aemond doesn’t mind, if they think his marriage is colder than the North beyond the Wall. He knows the truth.

There are nights, where you wake up desperate, a scream in your throat. Sometimes, you scream at him, you say you hate him. In others, you sob yourself into a meltdown, saying you hate yourself.

It’s always the same, on nights like that. He holds you in his arms, until you stop fighting. Overcome by hysterics, it’s you who searches for his mouth. You kiss him.

Aemond holds you down. You fight, you push and pull, like the waves lapping at the shore. Your nightgown rides up, his pants and shirt come off. He chases your sadness away with steady rolls of the hips, until all that is left is you and him, and not the ghosts of your past.

You break down gloriously, beneath him. Clawing at his back, wanting to make him hurt as you hurt. Sometimes, Aemond needs to hurt, too.

Sometimes it’s him, who wakes up screaming.

You fight. You scream. The guards knock on the door, concerned about what you are doing to each other, thinking one of you finally snapped and attempted murder. Like beasts, you roll around on the floor, clothes ripping, hair being pulled, skin bitten.

You ride him, sometimes. Your delicate hands turn into cuffs, keeping him pinned down. You sob your way through it, until Aemond cannot tell if it’s over stimulation or sadness. It’s sick. You two act like cats in heat. It’s the best sex he had ever had.

No matter who was the instigator, the next morning you slip out of bed, embarrassed by your behavior. Cold. You avoid his eyes, his mere presence makes you flinch. But despite your sudden turn into the most proper woman in the realm, Aemond knows the truth.

You are ruined. Just like him.

Hugor and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.

(The Smith's book. 2:14-15)

[martelltyrellmont]

Fanning the Flames | Masterlist

Seguir leyendo

[martelltyrellmont]

Glimpse of us part lll

Summary: Where Viserys marries for the third time, upon learning that Alicent Hightower shows signs of Greyscale.

Part 1

Part 2

Clarification: viserys is a respectful husband, to a certain extent but Arianne is a girl married to an old man & I don't think a girl would want to marry someone four times her age.

A few months passed, Daeron was growing very fast, only once in SEVEN months did his father go to see him.

Just once Lina, ONCE.— Frustration was getting more and more, the children were doing better than I expected, my only allies in the castle were Aemond, Helaena, Larrys and that's not counting the royal guard.— The other night , Aemond taught me strategies to be ahead of others.

Lina positioned herself in front of me making strange gestures.— Breathe, Arianne breathe, REMEMBER YOU ARE THE DAMN QUEEN.— She was on the right side again, we both intertwined our elbows.— Aemond is a very intelligent Child, but I can assure you that if if you become a friend of Lady Lannister you will have as allies her husband and her twin.- We walked along the bay, we both remembered home.- I will only tell you that the Lannisters are somewhat encimous, I am not saying it but other ladies.

It seems that Daeron thinks that Erryk is his father, every time he sees him he smiles. I looked at the horizon where the sun was at all it gave.

He only gave a slight laugh, since the bearded man was behind us. "He loves anything that comes from you, it's a pity that everything ends like this, haven't you thought about what you're going to do when the king dies?" - whisper.

No.- I changed my view to my feet.- It's something that should but I don't know, I suppose as Aemond says, the war will break out, nobody wants a woman on the throne and it's the same as my mother tells me, possibly I'll get married with a lord but I don't know, Helaena always mentions that I stay by her side." I sighed while frowning slowly. "Alicent sent me a letter last week, she says she's much better and she'll be back soon, something tells me that we'll meet We are going to unite at some point, we are both in the same thing.

Go who would say that your husband was a terrible husband.— he exclaimed, with irony.— I'm not surprised, the princess is Capricious, some servants don't tolerate her, the other night Jace changed his plate 3 times, both her children and she have a somewhat stressful character, they threw the food away.

Don't tell me, Laenor ignores me, he knows that I already know that they are not his children .- he couldn't use that word in front of Lina.- everything is overwhelming.

In the distance Aemond was playing with Daeron, lately he has been an older brother present, he did not care that Daeron had a dragon every time he cried, Aemond had been present, even when I was sleeping soundly at dawn, my right hand was Aemond.— You can say it, I'm Vaemond's bastard daughter.” Lina looked at me.

The only good thing that Vaemond has done.— she joked and it was true.— what are those two doing?

I don't know, but Ser. Criston wouldn't let a wave drown them, how is it with you? .- We continued talking about all of Kings Landing.

I thought for a while.— He is kind, very very kind, that bothers Erryk.— I put my fingers on my chin.— Yes, the other day when I was looking for Helaena, I had collided with Harwin Strong by mistake, due to a strange reason Cole was coming after me, he hurried to not throw me the impact, I guess something happened between him and her.

You suppose well. — If I didn't know Larrys, I would say that Luna would be the best for the small council. — According to some sources, he had something with the princess for that reason in the tournaments at your brother's wedding and she killed Joffrey.

Now I understand everything, I remember something vague about that week. - I shook my head.

Aemond ran with Daeron in his arms to where we were. "I think he's hungry." He gave me the little prince in his arms.

Thank you, dear.— He just smiled and stayed on my right side.—

I'm just here to help you.— She put her hands on his back and began to walk.—

That night was the second night that Viserys requested me in his chambers. "The king speaks to you," Lina exclaimed, coming in and waking me up.

A repulsive emptiness entered my stomach. "I don't want to, the last time I hurt myself." I closed my eyes sighing, I stood up slowly, Lina helped me put on the robe. "Take care of the princes."

You don't have to tell me, I'll take care of them here.” She gave me a crooked smile, while she put on my robe.

I walked slowly, until I went out into the hallway and saw Erryk, he seemed furious.—His highness.—I exclaimed, his hand was clutching that sword.

We walked a bit because halfway down the road I put my hands on my stomach leaning on the wall that was next to me.—Erryk, I don't want to do this.—I looked at him.—I'm only 17 years old and I'm the mother of a prince.

I hug myself and caress my hair. — It will only be a while, just a while, remember that time.

I hugged him and released him as quickly as possible, it was in a tournament in Harrenhall, only Lina knows that story, how the mermaid fell for the gentleman's charms, we fell in love the first time we met...

Cargyll encouraged me to continue, I closed my eyes upon entering that room.—My king?.—He was lying down, I swallowed saliva and lay down next to him.

I'm sorry I didn't call or see you, but being king is a tedious job,” he exclaimed, a fake smile slipping from my mouth. “Daeron is a charming prince.

Thank you very much his highness and I understand .- I put my hair behind my ear, about 39 minutes did not pass and the king was on top of me until a maid entered somewhat upset.

Excuse your highnesses but Prince Aemond suffered an accident and his arm hurts, it's purple.— Viserys immediately moved away from me, I just breathed in such relief.

Where is he? .- asked the king

With the maestres, but he is crying a lot and requests the queen.” He bowed and ran off.

I think it's better that you go see how my son is doing. He patted me and I left the place, without saying anything.

Erryk guided me to where that silver-haired Child was, when he entered the room, there was only him with the master, when he saw me he came out. — I think my plan worked.

He explains to me? .— I put my hands on my waist, trying to understand everything.

I heard that she didn't feel comfortable, so I devised a plan for her to get rid of my father for tonight.— He raised his shoulders and then lowered them.— Excuse me, Your Highness, but I tried to be in your shoes and since it must be difficult for you be with someone four times your age.

My generous Aemond.— This Child was smarter than he suggested.— Let's go to the cameras, but I think you should pretend that your arm still hurts.

That young dragon showed me to be the most loyal person to me so far, "more loyal than Erryk himself"...

Arianne, can I ask you something? .- the little Boy, took my hand the moment I left him in his bed.

What's wrong Aemond?... - I sat on the edge of his bed.

He cleared his throat, clearing his throat. "Have you been in love before you got married?"

I let go of his grip gently and smiled at him, I couldn't stop imagining another life, at that moment I bit my lower lip and looked at the window, you could see King landing. — Yes, my prince a long time ago… — I came back to look at his highness.

Could you tell me what happened to him?” —He was a curious child by nature.

I closed my eyes remembering everything that I had experienced.— Just because your majesty.— He teased a bit.— Everything happened so fast, his father had died and living on an island near Driftmark, two years ago my parents and I went .- I stood up from that place, now positioning myself on the right side of Aemond, lying a little on his bed while I caressed his hair, he was concentrated listening carefully.- what I felt when I saw him was inexplicable, I had never seen him and he He's older than me but only a year.—I bit my lip trying to remember, he was wearing a white cotton shirt, training, he felt the fury and frustration in every action.—He presumably didn't see me the day I came down from vermithor but yes the next day, he gave me a little tour of his castle, small very small but cozy, we went to the small town, he and his brother took me, they were sad but they promised to take care of me such a restless and exploratory girl, my parents I had been scolded and justly Reason, we were at a funeral, not a "normal" visit.— He shook his head, his violet eyes paid attention to all my gestures.— Time passed, he wrote me a letter, because he was very rude to me at that time and He apologized, that's how it started every day we wrote letters or poems. — a tear seemed to come out of my eyes. — but one day my father found a letter in which he said that we would both get married and run away to Yi Ti, he was very upset, His plan was always to marry your Brother and in fact that was the initial plan, until we were engaged for a few hours. I looked at the ceiling for a while trying not to cry. That day I hit myself, Erryk. Serious mistake Arianne .- He found out from Lina and sailed to Driftmark and requested an audience with my father which was denied, he returned two more times until months later he found out that I was already engaged to your father.- I looked at that child again .— That night he went up to my room from my window, I I had been locked up for days, it was very sad, we thought about running away at that moment but my father threatened him and me that if I left he would chain Vermithor and he knows that Vermithor and I have a very strong connection just like my mother and meleys.

Aemond was stunned.— my queen that is unfair.— I remove my hand that was still caressing her head.— I suppose that you and Cargyll were something and that Erryk is him.— here is Arianne's serious mistake.— her story is AES different To my mother's with Cole.—That confession left me in shock.—A large part of me is glad that she married my father because she is the best stepmother I have.—I smiled at her, those words were sincere.—But another knows that both my mother and you are condemned to a marriage without love and that is very sad and admirable because they fulfill their duty to the kingdom and their houses.

That purple-eyed Child culminated, a Daeron whimpering was heard leaving Aemond alone trying to sleep, the months passed and both Alicent and Aegon returned, she no longer had one ear and some parts of the skin were removed, on the other hand Aegon it was calmer than before, a few days after his return there was a big fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent about the incident of Jace and Luke locking Aemond in a closet..

What are those screams? .- He carried Daeron while Lina looked at that uproar.

She put her hands over her mouth. "The queen and the princess are fighting." I shook my head trying to make Daeron sleep, Erryk on the other hand was a few meters behind me.

I'll see what I can do.” I walked with Daeron in my arms… “Your Highnesses, everything in order?” They both fell silent when they saw me arrive, Alicent was accommodating her dress and Rhaenyra her hair.

DON'T MESS ARIANNE.— Rhaenyra exclaimed, shouting.— you're the least likely person that she has to get involved in this shameless

You don't talk like that to your stepmother.— The Hightower exclaimed angrily.— The one who should be ashamed is you and how you educate your children.

The discussion continued for a few more minutes, causing the king to call them on the spot, I didn't want to get involved realizing that Daeron was in my arms, that was the first of many fights that I witnessed by mistake...

[martelltyrellmont]

Aphrodite of Cyprus - Mother of Desire, Lover of Laughter, Heavenly Goddess of Beauty and Happiness.

Lady Aphrodite, hear my prayer. On this blessed day I offer you this digital offering as I am away from your altar. I thank you for everything you’ve done for me, especially in such a short amount of time. Thank you for blessing me with a wonderful relationship and a boyfriend who endlessly loves me. Thank you for blessing me. I am beautiful, my body is perfect the way it is and I have you to thank for that. You who loves laughter, have brought me much joy and laughter. Our conversations are my favorite part of my day. Truly speaking with you for the first time is something I’ll never forget. Thank you for hearing my prayer as I cried to you last night. I appreciate all you do for me. Thank you Lady Aphrodite. I love and appreciate you. Thank you.

[martelltyrellmont]

friday offering to lady Aphrodite .ೃ࿐

[martelltyrellmont]

Glimpse of us part lll

Summary: Where Viserys marries for the third time, upon learning that Alicent Hightower shows signs of Greyscale.

Part 1

Part 2

Clarification: viserys is a respectful husband, to a certain extent but Arianne is a girl married to an old man & I don't think a girl would want to marry someone four times her age.

A few months passed, Daeron was growing very fast, only once in SEVEN months did his father go to see him.

Just once Lina, ONCE.— Frustration was getting more and more, the children were doing better than I expected, my only allies in the castle were Aemond, Helaena, Larrys and that's not counting the royal guard.— The other night , Aemond taught me strategies to be ahead of others.

Lina positioned herself in front of me making strange gestures.— Breathe, Arianne breathe, REMEMBER YOU ARE THE DAMN QUEEN.— She was on the right side again, we both intertwined our elbows.— Aemond is a very intelligent Child, but I can assure you that if if you become a friend of Lady Lannister you will have as allies her husband and her twin.- We walked along the bay, we both remembered home.- I will only tell you that the Lannisters are somewhat encimous, I am not saying it but other ladies.

It seems that Daeron thinks that Erryk is his father, every time he sees him he smiles. I looked at the horizon where the sun was at all it gave.

He only gave a slight laugh, since the bearded man was behind us. "He loves anything that comes from you, it's a pity that everything ends like this, haven't you thought about what you're going to do when the king dies?" - whisper.

No.- I changed my view to my feet.- It's something that should but I don't know, I suppose as Aemond says, the war will break out, nobody wants a woman on the throne and it's the same as my mother tells me, possibly I'll get married with a lord but I don't know, Helaena always mentions that I stay by her side." I sighed while frowning slowly. "Alicent sent me a letter last week, she says she's much better and she'll be back soon, something tells me that we'll meet We are going to unite at some point, we are both in the same thing.

Go who would say that your husband was a terrible husband.— he exclaimed, with irony.— I'm not surprised, the princess is Capricious, some servants don't tolerate her, the other night Jace changed his plate 3 times, both her children and she have a somewhat stressful character, they threw the food away.

Don't tell me, Laenor ignores me, he knows that I already know that they are not his children .- he couldn't use that word in front of Lina.- everything is overwhelming.

In the distance Aemond was playing with Daeron, lately he has been an older brother present, he did not care that Daeron had a dragon every time he cried, Aemond had been present, even when I was sleeping soundly at dawn, my right hand was Aemond.— You can say it, I'm Vaemond's bastard daughter.” Lina looked at me.

The only good thing that Vaemond has done.— she joked and it was true.— what are those two doing?

I don't know, but Ser. Criston wouldn't let a wave drown them, how is it with you? .- We continued talking about all of Kings Landing.

I thought for a while.— He is kind, very very kind, that bothers Erryk.— I put my fingers on my chin.— Yes, the other day when I was looking for Helaena, I had collided with Harwin Strong by mistake, due to a strange reason Cole was coming after me, he hurried to not throw me the impact, I guess something happened between him and her.

You suppose well. — If I didn't know Larrys, I would say that Luna would be the best for the small council. — According to some sources, he had something with the princess for that reason in the tournaments at your brother's wedding and she killed Joffrey.

Now I understand everything, I remember something vague about that week. - I shook my head.

Aemond ran with Daeron in his arms to where we were. "I think he's hungry." He gave me the little prince in his arms.

Thank you, dear.— He just smiled and stayed on my right side.—

I'm just here to help you.— She put her hands on his back and began to walk.—

That night was the second night that Viserys requested me in his chambers. "The king speaks to you," Lina exclaimed, coming in and waking me up.

A repulsive emptiness entered my stomach. "I don't want to, the last time I hurt myself." I closed my eyes sighing, I stood up slowly, Lina helped me put on the robe. "Take care of the princes."

You don't have to tell me, I'll take care of them here.” She gave me a crooked smile, while she put on my robe.

I walked slowly, until I went out into the hallway and saw Erryk, he seemed furious.—His highness.—I exclaimed, his hand was clutching that sword.

We walked a bit because halfway down the road I put my hands on my stomach leaning on the wall that was next to me.—Erryk, I don't want to do this.—I looked at him.—I'm only 17 years old and I'm the mother of a prince.

I hug myself and caress my hair. — It will only be a while, just a while, remember that time.

I hugged him and released him as quickly as possible, it was in a tournament in Harrenhall, only Lina knows that story, how the mermaid fell for the gentleman's charms, we fell in love the first time we met...

Cargyll encouraged me to continue, I closed my eyes upon entering that room.—My king?.—He was lying down, I swallowed saliva and lay down next to him.

I'm sorry I didn't call or see you, but being king is a tedious job,” he exclaimed, a fake smile slipping from my mouth. “Daeron is a charming prince.

Thank you very much his highness and I understand .- I put my hair behind my ear, about 39 minutes did not pass and the king was on top of me until a maid entered somewhat upset.

Excuse your highnesses but Prince Aemond suffered an accident and his arm hurts, it's purple.— Viserys immediately moved away from me, I just breathed in such relief.

Where is he? .- asked the king

With the maestres, but he is crying a lot and requests the queen.” He bowed and ran off.

I think it's better that you go see how my son is doing. He patted me and I left the place, without saying anything.

Erryk guided me to where that silver-haired Child was, when he entered the room, there was only him with the master, when he saw me he came out. — I think my plan worked.

He explains to me? .— I put my hands on my waist, trying to understand everything.

I heard that she didn't feel comfortable, so I devised a plan for her to get rid of my father for tonight.— He raised his shoulders and then lowered them.— Excuse me, Your Highness, but I tried to be in your shoes and since it must be difficult for you be with someone four times your age.

My generous Aemond.— This Child was smarter than he suggested.— Let's go to the cameras, but I think you should pretend that your arm still hurts.

That young dragon showed me to be the most loyal person to me so far, "more loyal than Erryk himself"...

Arianne, can I ask you something? .- the little Boy, took my hand the moment I left him in his bed.

What's wrong Aemond?... - I sat on the edge of his bed.

He cleared his throat, clearing his throat. "Have you been in love before you got married?"

I let go of his grip gently and smiled at him, I couldn't stop imagining another life, at that moment I bit my lower lip and looked at the window, you could see King landing. — Yes, my prince a long time ago… — I came back to look at his highness.

Could you tell me what happened to him?” —He was a curious child by nature.

I closed my eyes remembering everything that I had experienced.— Just because your majesty.— He teased a bit.— Everything happened so fast, his father had died and living on an island near Driftmark, two years ago my parents and I went .- I stood up from that place, now positioning myself on the right side of Aemond, lying a little on his bed while I caressed his hair, he was concentrated listening carefully.- what I felt when I saw him was inexplicable, I had never seen him and he He's older than me but only a year.—I bit my lip trying to remember, he was wearing a white cotton shirt, training, he felt the fury and frustration in every action.—He presumably didn't see me the day I came down from vermithor but yes the next day, he gave me a little tour of his castle, small very small but cozy, we went to the small town, he and his brother took me, they were sad but they promised to take care of me such a restless and exploratory girl, my parents I had been scolded and justly Reason, we were at a funeral, not a "normal" visit.— He shook his head, his violet eyes paid attention to all my gestures.— Time passed, he wrote me a letter, because he was very rude to me at that time and He apologized, that's how it started every day we wrote letters or poems. — a tear seemed to come out of my eyes. — but one day my father found a letter in which he said that we would both get married and run away to Yi Ti, he was very upset, His plan was always to marry your Brother and in fact that was the initial plan, until we were engaged for a few hours. I looked at the ceiling for a while trying not to cry. That day I hit myself, Erryk. Serious mistake Arianne .- He found out from Lina and sailed to Driftmark and requested an audience with my father which was denied, he returned two more times until months later he found out that I was already engaged to your father.- I looked at that child again .— That night he went up to my room from my window, I I had been locked up for days, it was very sad, we thought about running away at that moment but my father threatened him and me that if I left he would chain Vermithor and he knows that Vermithor and I have a very strong connection just like my mother and meleys.

Aemond was stunned.— my queen that is unfair.— I remove my hand that was still caressing her head.— I suppose that you and Cargyll were something and that Erryk is him.— here is Arianne's serious mistake.— her story is AES different To my mother's with Cole.—That confession left me in shock.—A large part of me is glad that she married my father because she is the best stepmother I have.—I smiled at her, those words were sincere.—But another knows that both my mother and you are condemned to a marriage without love and that is very sad and admirable because they fulfill their duty to the kingdom and their houses.

That purple-eyed Child culminated, a Daeron whimpering was heard leaving Aemond alone trying to sleep, the months passed and both Alicent and Aegon returned, she no longer had one ear and some parts of the skin were removed, on the other hand Aegon it was calmer than before, a few days after his return there was a big fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent about the incident of Jace and Luke locking Aemond in a closet..

What are those screams? .- He carried Daeron while Lina looked at that uproar.

She put her hands over her mouth. "The queen and the princess are fighting." I shook my head trying to make Daeron sleep, Erryk on the other hand was a few meters behind me.

I'll see what I can do.” I walked with Daeron in my arms… “Your Highnesses, everything in order?” They both fell silent when they saw me arrive, Alicent was accommodating her dress and Rhaenyra her hair.

DON'T MESS ARIANNE.— Rhaenyra exclaimed, shouting.— you're the least likely person that she has to get involved in this shameless

You don't talk like that to your stepmother.— The Hightower exclaimed angrily.— The one who should be ashamed is you and how you educate your children.

The discussion continued for a few more minutes, causing the king to call them on the spot, I didn't want to get involved realizing that Daeron was in my arms, that was the first of many fights that I witnessed by mistake...

[martelltyrellmont]

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇, 𝐀.𝐓

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

summary: married to her uncle daemon, y/n hated everything about her life. including her oldest sister, rhaenyra.

words: 1,3k

author’s note: i wrote this for my green girlies, even tho i’m team black (y'all know i love my boy aemond with all my heart) and i promise you i love rhaenyra too, all the hate is just for the sake of the story. i just had this idea and needed to get it out of my head.

reblogs, feedback and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please share your opinion, and enjoy your reading.

18+ warning

warnings: INCEST!!!! HEAVY INCEST!!! fluff, angst, mentions of miscarriages, mentions of fertility issues, hints of daemon getting cucked ☠️

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Seguir leyendo

[martelltyrellmont]

Bad Omens

Aemond Targaryen x Twin!Reader

Summary: Sometimes, duty can swallow you whole and you must let it, no matter how much it pains you. Aemond’s twin is betrothed to Quentin Tyrell, and Aemond to a Baratheon daughter. Y/N is set to be married tomorrow and then ride off to Highgarden with her new husband. Both Y/N and Aemond are devastated at the thought of losing each other. Both knew that their love for each other could not last. Still, they found themselves going around one final time, jumping back in bed…because that’s what you do when you love somebody. The bad omens, they force themselves to look right through them for one last time. 

Note: All Valyrian came from a translator so don’t come for me. Yes the title is for the 5sos song and YES, I appropriate the lyrics for the last two sentences of the summary fight me. Okay but anywaysssssss lol this post is a little oneshot guy to experiment with a theory I have about why I wasn’t appearing in the tags. If all goes well I can actually stay on this account,,,if it doesn’t I’ll have to go to a different/new one (again lol)

CWs/TWs: ANGST, Targcest, adult/profane language, implied sex, implied emotional/sad/goodbye sex tbh, jealous!Aemond, also jealous!Y/N tbh, lowkey OOC!Aemond because he’s being Soft in part of it

Word Count: 7.3k+

“You will love Highgarden, Princess. We are where the ocean road meets the roseroad, with endless opportunities in all directions for us. Our Sept and its stained glass are matched in splendor only by the Starry Sept and the Great Sept of Baelor,” boasted Lord Quentin Tyrell. “Our godswood has the Three Singers - our three weirwoods. The keep is decorated with statues and colonnades. We have endless groves, fountains, and courtyards to explore, and all is covered in ivy, grapes, and climbing roses.” He brushed a piece of hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “We have flowers, singers, pipers, fiddlers, harpers…we have horses to ride, boats to sail and we’re building a dragonpit for you as we speak. Our roses are plentiful and golden, Lady Y/N. Golden. You could practically reach out your hand and encounter a tree or bush with the melons, peaches, and fireplums we grow by the bushel.” 

“That is all well, my lord,” I said softly, voice even. “I am eager to see it for myself.”

He sighed, grabbed my hands, and stopped our walk through the King’s Landing gardens. “I say all of that to assure you that you will come to be happy,” he urged quietly. “You will come to find peace.” He glanced around us quickly. “I know you do not wish to marry me, Y/N. I am no fool. But…I do hope that you might come to love me in time, or at least to be happy…even just content with me at your side.”

“I don’t know what you mean, my lord,” I denied. “It honors me to marry into your House.”

Quentin frowned, looking at me seriously. “You need not lie to me, my lady,” he said, pulling my elbow so we were in a quiet shaded alcove, my sworn sword a few lazy steps behind to give the illusion of privacy. “The…shall we say queer customs of the Targaryens are well known throughout all of Westeros - including Highgarden. And we…I am no blind man. I see the way that you…that you look at your own twin.”

My face blanched. “I know not of what you speak,” I practically spat. “Your accusations are vile!”

“Y/N listen to me,” Quentin hissed quietly, glancing around at my raised tone to make sure that no one’s attention came to us from my raised voice. He looked back at me, eyes softening but still urgent. “I care not if you love Prince Aemond - I do not…I will not act as though I understand. But I…I do not begrudge you for it.” He let out a quiet sigh and took a half-step back from me. “Listen, my father arranged our betrothal with your father…with the King…to help secure our alliance. My father has urged me not to utterly ruin this. Which I fear I am with my words.”

“You are coming quite close, yes,” I said sharply. Almost immediately I deflated, a bitter smirk on my face. “As if it would matter at this point, Quentin. We’re to be married tomorrow.”

He let out a harsh sigh. “I don’t care about the fucking wedding, Y/N. I care about all of the days that will follow the wedding. I have no interest in us hating each other. Or resenting each other. I want us to be true companions, true partners. That’s why I’m saying any of this,” he insisted. He glanced around a final time and lowered his voice. “I do not fault you for what has happened before our wedding or whatever may tonight. But please…I beg you to respect our union once it is made. I would never besmirch your honor and I ask that you do the same.” I clenched my jaw and opened my mouth to speak. But, he cut me off. “And that is not me attempting to imply something or me making an accusation, Y/N. It is merely the words of a man who knows that the heart of his soon-to-be bride, soon-to-be wife, belongs to another.”

I glared at him. “This time and this time alone will I allow those treasonous words to pass your lips,” I said sharply. “I would never dishonor you or myself in such a way.”

He gave a weak smile. “I’ll admit that it gladens me to hear so, Princess,” he said quietly, looking away from me. “I am sorry. I do not mean to embarrass you or to anger you. I just…I wanted you to know. I can…I can see myself growing to love you, given time. For this to be a union of love and not just duty. I wanted to plead and see if you might see it in the same way that I do.”

I looked at the pretty man before me, the easiest and most accurate description to use for Quentin - for anyone in House Tyrell, honestly. He was tall and strong. His hair lay to his shoulders in perfectly arranged light brown curls that shone in the sun. His clothing was opulent in shades of green and gold befitting of his House. There was objectively nothing wrong with the way that he looked. Nor was there anything wrong with the way that he was. He had a kind heart, was always patient, listened better than most men, and was funny without having to demean others. By all accounts, he was a catch. He was, on paper the perfect husband for me to make a political alliance that could possibly turn into a love match. There was only one thing wrong with him. He was right - he was not my twin. He was not Aemond.

“I,” I began, hesitating, “I could see myself coming to love you. Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. I knew I would grow to love him. And I hated myself for that fact. For that betrayal to Aemond. “I…I know that our marriage will grow to be one more than just duty, Quentin. Make no mistake. You need not plead with me. You are…a near-perfect man. Entirely rare and objectively wonderful. I would be a fool, a blind, evil fool, if I did not find myself capable of loving you. And I am glad that of all suitors presented, you were decided to be my husband.”

“You flatter me, Y/N,” he said softly. He reached out and grabbed my hand squeezing it gently. I let him. “I will be patient with you. I promise. I have no expectation of…perfection. I assure you.” He offered a grin. “And I think that when you’re out of the Red Keep and you’ve settled into Highgarden…you’ll find yourself feeling lighter.”

I smiled back and nodded. As I spoke, my voice came out far more emotional than I would have anticipated of myself. “Thank you,” I managed to say.

“Of course, my lady,” he said quietly. “We’ll be in Highgarden in a month’s time. In the sun and splendor. Just…give it time.”

I nodded again. “You’re right,” I said, taking a deep breath. I looked down. “Quite right.”

“Princess,” called my sworn sword. “The Prince has come to escort you to the dragonpit.”

There was no doubt which it was. There was no doubt at all who it was. Quentin looked at me, his face impassive. I gave a weak, half-smile. The smile was returned easily enough, a silent show of assurance that he understood. Just as he said he did - far kinder than what almost any other man would offer. He gestured with his head and then offered me his arm again. I was beyond grateful for his understanding - I knew that I was lucky to have it - beyond lucky. I took his arm with a more gracious smile, and together we walked back out of the alcove. 

Standing there was exactly who I’d expected. Aemond. He stood, tall and proud, clad in all black as usual. His head was tilted up and his eye was focused solely on me, not on Quentin at all. My heart ached to look at him, the stoic look on his face, the fire burning in his eye. I looked away swiftly and back to Quentin as I let go of his arm.

“Prince Aemond,” Quentin greeted with a nod of his head.

“Lord Tyrell,” he greeted, bored.

“Hello, brother,”  I greeted softly.

“Sister,” he replied. He offered me a hand. “Are you ready to go riding?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. I turned to Quentin as I took Aemond’s hand, letting him tuck it safely into his arm. “I’ll see you tonight, my lord.”

“Of course,” Quentin said, with a small smile. “Enjoy your ride, darling. Stay safe.”

I squeezed Aemond’s arm in warning as he went to reply to his words. A silent plea to not say anything stupid. “I will,” I assured him.

“Come then, ñuha jorrāelagon,” Aemond said, voice slightly pinched from the endearment from Quentin. My heart ached at his - calling me my love so boldly in front of others, even if it was in High Valyrian. He looked then to my sworn sword. “Ser Ambrose I will take my sister from here. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, my prince,” he replied, bowing to him and then to me before walking off.

“Good day, Lord Tyrell,” Aemond drawled before pulling me away. I offered a final wave before turning my attention to my brother. He glanced around at the lords and ladies around us, servants and spies too. He switched, understandably into speaking Valyrian. “Ao vestragon biare, mandia.”

You seem happy, sister, what an ugly thought. I bit my lip to keep from foolishly replying to the bait of his words. I shrugged half-heartedly and only gave a hum of acknowledgment at the words. We walked to the dragonpit in relative silence, greeted the dragonkeepers, and walked over to our mounts. Both were already saddled for our daily ride together. Vhagar stood, a massive, dark beast beside my own dragon Naerax, a creature of green and gold - remarkably close to the colors of House Tyrell, in fact, funny as that was.

“Lykirī, Naerax,” I called, amused, to my mount who screeched upon seeing me. “Calm. You see me every day.”

“As do I and I still find it not enough - I side with Naerax on the issue,” Aemond teased quietly.

I rolled my eyes at my twin. “Well, I do not,” I said. I squeezed Aemond’s arm fondly. “We do not have the time to fly to Claw Isle and back today. Where would you care to go, ñuha idaña?”

My twin looked at me, amethyst eye serious. “Don’t ask me for I would have us fly away from this,” he said gravely, brave to say it plainly and not in Valyrian - though, admittedly, the dragonkeepers would understand it anyways.

I inhaled sharply and looked away from him. “Don’t say such things,” I said quietly. “Not here.” I clenched my jaw and looked at the sun to gauge the time and sighed. “We can make it to Claw Isle for a bit if we hurry. Come.”

“Very well, ñuha jorrāelagon,” he granted.

Even flying on Naerax brought little to no joy today. I felt hollowed out on the inside, and I knew that Aemond’s eye followed me the whole time that we were on dragon back. I tried to ignore it but every so often, glancing over his way, my heart would jump as my eyes briefly met with his fathomlessly deep amethyst one. Naerax felt my stress clearly, lurching forward faster than he normally would as though driven by something chasing him down. I soothed him as best I could until we landed, at which point he sulked off to fly over the sea, harassing the fish and getting himself a snack. As he did that, Vhagar landed and began to lay down and rest while Aemond gracefully landed on his feet. 

Back on solid ground, Aemond walked over to me and drew me into a hug before I could speak. I melted into the embrace of my twin, burying my face in his neck. I took in a ragged breath and gripped his shoulders while I moved to look at him wholly. I saw the sadness in his eye and I knew that it was echoed in mine. I cupped his face with both of my hands. 

“I do not want to leave you,” I said, voice hoarse.

“And I do not want you to leave me,” he said quietly. “Much less to go to fucking Highgarden of all places. With that…that infuriating Tyrell.”

I shook my head. “Quentin is a good man and this is not his fault,” I reminded my twin. “This is our parents…our grandsire.” I glowered. “The will of the King they say. We both know that father can barely leave his damned bed. And we know he loves to see pure Valyrian heritage.” My words were practically venom they flew so hatefully. “This is our grandsire all but entirely.” My lip trembled. “This…it should have been Helaena married off to a Tyrell. It should have been her duty. Not mine.”

Aemond frowned and brushed my hair from my face. “If that had happened, ñuha jorrāelagon, you would’ve been married to Aegon. Not to me. And that…that would’ve been worse.”

I rolled my eyes. “The babes would have been yours,” I said bitterly. “We could have gotten away with that. I would’ve been here.”

He grimaced. “And still he would bed you. And I’d rather take out my own remaining eye than see that lecher’s hands on your body,” he said firmly. He grimaced. “Plus you know I’ll have to go to Storm’s End. That is my destiny now.”

“That lecher is still our brother,” I reminded him before falling back into his embrace, ignoring the reminder of his own stupid betrothal. “Is…is this to be the end of us, Aemond?”

He sighed and drew me out of his arms so he could lean our foreheads together. I focused on the cool leather of his eyepatch to avoid the maddeningly familiar feeling of our skin touching. I closed my eyes and felt it while his hand traced over my face and down my arms until he threaded our fingers together. Only then did I open my eyes again. I saw the downturn of his lips and my heart broke. I inhaled sharply to keep from crying, and sadness filled his eye openly instead of the muted emotion that had been present before. He clearly wanted to offer some form of comfort, but after a moment of thought came to the realization that there was none he could give to me that would truly make a difference.

“I love you, my sweet sister,” he said firmly. “You will always be in my heart. Even apart.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “We were born of the same womb. Together. Nothing can change that - nothing can tear us apart. Not distance nor time.” He offered a half-smile. “Especially not when we both have dragons.”

I frowned. “You say that now but you will soon be forced to marry that godsforsaken Baratheon girl,” I pointed out. “And we will then both have our own duties to attend to. You to whatever land, whatever lady you are bound. And me…I will be forced to do my own duty, to bear children and carry on the Tyrell family line.” My eyes watered and I looked away. “And I know you will not be able to stand the sight of me when I do so.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. “The thought of you having another’s child brings me no pleasure,” he confirmed in a dark drawl. “But I would never abandon you for it. Don’t even think it of me, Y/N. I love you more than you…more than I could possibly hope to articulate. There are no words. Don’t you understand? Ao mazverdagon nyke giez.” He repeated himself so I knew the seriousness of his words. “You make me whole.”

“Avy jorrāelan,” I said weakly. “I love you.” I continued looking up at my brother, my twin, the other half of my very being. He looked at me intently, drinking in every expression, every micro movement of my face. “May I ask a final thing of you brother? Once more? Before duty takes over the both of us?”

He smirked. “If you’re going to ask me to kiss you, I was already planning to do so,” he said.

I laughed, then shook my head, our noses almost brushing together from how close we were. “Come to my room tonight. For one final time. Please.”

Aemond’s lips turned down into a frown once more. “Y/N…it will only make the morning harder for the both of us,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “And I’m sure that there will be…people will be checking on us both to make sure we do not run away together.”

“Please,” I scoffed, “they know that you and I are both far too duty-bound to run away even if that is what we want. So please, Aemond. Please. I…I need you one last time. I beg you.”

He groaned, hand coming up to rest on the side of my face, half on my jaw, half on my neck. “I can never say no to you,” he said. 

The words were both mournful and devoted and they ripped through my soul and pierced at the very core of my being. They landed like an arrow lancing through armor to stroke true at my heart. He pressed our lips together, the movement greedy, hungry, and devouring. I let him consume me, my body pressed tightly against his. We only separated when we were both desperate for air, sucking in deep, gasping breaths, but still refusing to move from each other or keep our lips off of each other’s for long.

“Iksan aōhon. Va moriot,” I vowed. I am yours. Always.

Aemond leaned his head against the top of mine. He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon iā vow ao daor gaomagon,” he warned.

“It is a promise that I intend to keep,” I growled. “I would never stop being yours.”

He smiled at me, sad and knowing. He stroked the side of my face once more. He kissed me again, thoroughly until I was out of breath. Then, he pulled back and wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. I sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him, feeling uncertainty biting through me to my very core.

“You will,” he said softly. “One day. Because you will be his. You will be your children’s. All that will remain of your ties to me will be the name of House Targaryen. And I…I must be okay with that.” I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me with a soft kiss. “Do not feel sorry. Do not argue, sweet sister. I would give a thousand lifetimes to spend the time that I have with you. I would trade it for nothing. Even with the pain that shall come with this end.” My eyes filled with tears and immediately he wiped them away. “Do not cry for me, ñuha jorrāelagon. All I care for is your safety. Your happiness.” He kissed me once more. “You will find both in Highgarden. Of that I am sure. As much as I loathe the ass for stealing the love of my life…I know that Quentin will care for you.” His tone darkened. “Or he will die for his misdeeds.”

I held his hand to my face, not wanting him to let go. “I love you,” I said. 

It felt as though if I said the words differently, if I just could figure out how to say them in the right way, then all would change. Then it would be Aemond that I was marrying on the morrow and not Quentin. But, the reality was that nothing - short of running away, which was an impossibility with the righteous blood flowing through both of our veins - would stop the wedding now. Things were too far along, and the alliances being forged were far too important. No matter how miserable losing Aemond made me, it was far too late to change things - if it ever would have been possible in the first place.

“Please,” I said, softer this time, “I beg you, Aemond, please say you’ll come tonight.”

“Having another man in your bed before a wedding must be a bad omen,” he said quietly.

“I look through all bad omens, I hold more to science than faith. You know this,” I said in a blatant lie. I put my hands upon his face, stroking his cheekbone gently. “Please, brother, please come tonight.”

Aemond looked at me - looked through me, really - for a few moments. His eye was dark, intense. Eventually, he let out a sigh and then nodded. “I will,” he agreed quietly. He pressed another kiss to my lips, one that I tried to chase down until he pulled away. “I love you, Y/N. More than even the greatest poet of this land could convey. The Stranger could not separate us to a point where my love for you would cease. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” I whispered, eyes falling to the scraggly, rocky sand of the beach below our feet. I looked back up at him, my eyes sorrowful. “I promise you that I do, Aemond.”

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” he said, stepping forward again to press a final kiss to my forehead. “We must return. I fear that you’ll have to get ready for the feast tonight.”

“No,” I said, suddenly desperate, reaching forward to grab his hand.

Aemond stepped back from me further, closer to Vhagar. Evaded my touch entirely. “We must,” he said firmly, hands linking firmly behind his back. His jaw was set. His eye was firm. His mind was made up. And most importantly, he was right. We did have to return.

“Māzigon, Naerax,” I called, summoning my dragon back to me.

He was back at my side not a minute later from where he still flew low over the water, bothering and outright scaring the fish that he didn’t see fit to eat. I glanced back over to where Aemond had been, finally firm enough in my conviction to meet his gaze. But, he was already atop Vhagar. My heart shattered a bit more. Still, I mounted my dragon again, eyes watery with unshed tears that would soon burn my face as we took to the skies. Before I’d finished settling, Vhagar had already taken off.

“Sesīr kipi!” I commanded. And now, we ride. The reality of it sank into my bones and I felt dread suddenly encase my heart. Still, I shook it off. “Sōvēs.”

And ride we did. Naerax took to the skies and flew with even more fervor than on the way there. We beat Vhagar back to the dragon pit by almost five minutes, he flew so fast. As we landed both he and I were panting. I appreciated the speed though because my tear-stained face could be easily attributed to the breakneck speed and whipping wind that had hit my face full force. I had already dismounted and helped the dragonkeepers wrestle the saddle off of a restless Naerax who was responding to my emotions. Rather than subjecting the poor keepers to my irritated dragon, I told them he would return by evening and sent him off. Only then, did Vhagar appear in the sky, lowering to the ground, creating a ripple in her wake as she landed.

“Shall I accompany you back to the Keep, sister?” he asked.

“No, brother. You can stay with Vhagar longer. I know you wish to,” I brushed off with almost no emotion. 

I removed my riding gloves from my hand and started to stride back towards the Red Keep. Mercifully, Aemond recognized the words for what they were. A command that I wanted to be alone. A plea to not have him follow me. I only made it to the edge of the dragonpit before a member of the City Watch spotted me and immediately started escorting me himself. I thanked him when we’d made it back to the Keep and then strode quickly to my chambers. I arrived just in time to interrupt the maids who were cleaning my room. Clearing my throat and forcing myself to hold back the tears still desperately wanting to escape, I asked them to fetch water for a bath and they frantically left to go get it.

Alone again, angry tears dripped from my eyes that I just as quickly wiped away. I waited, looking out the window to avoid the servants’ eyes on me when they returned with the water. After everything was set I dismissed them to wash alone, coldly so they knew not to argue with me. After they left I sank into the water that was nearly burning hot and let out a sharp sigh. I submerged my whole body, head included, to feel the hot water both reinvigorate and relax me. It didn’t completely soothe the hurt in my heart, it did enough to distract from it for the time being - all that I could really ask for. By the time that I emerged from the water, smelling of citrus and vanilla, the water had gone tepid.

I wrapped a robe around myself just in time for a knock at the door. “Come in,” I called, knowing it would only be servants. I was proven right when one of my attendants came in, bowing meekly to me. “Hello, Amalia.”

“Princess Y/N,” she greeted. “What dress did you want to wear to the feast tonight?”

I glanced over to the dresses that I had brought out earlier as my options. My eyes lingered on the sapphire dress in a style my mother more traditionally wore, and I thought of Aemond. My eyes traveled over to the black and red dress that was more in the style traditionally of House Targaryen, and I thought of my eldest sister Rhaenyra. Then they trailed to the light green option my mother had once commissioned for me, and I found myself unable to see anything beyond Helaena and my mother. My heart ached. Compared to just this morning when I’d pulled them out, none seemed right.

Finally, my eyes traveled to the other side of the room and landed on the gown that was a gift from Quentin - one I hadn’t initially intended to wear. It was a gorgeous dress made in a very…Highgarden style, appropriate to House Tyrell. A light, breezy fabric made up a flowing emerald skirt, a more structured top made with an emerald fabric that was overlaid with gorgeous gold embroidery and small glittering gems, all brought together at the waist with a few strategically placed gemstones making the two separate pieces into one. I walked over to it and touched the soft fabric, sighing. I looked back to Amalia.

“This one,” I decided. “The gift from Lord Tyrell. Thank you, Amalia.”

“Yes, Princess,” she said.

She then painstakingly helped me into the dress and styled my hair just so. She told me that I was beautiful - she always did, the sweet girl she was - and I smiled before dismissing her so she might go ready herself for the feast as well. She nodded and then left. Finally, finally, finally I was alone once more so that I could compose myself. Though my solitude did not last for long. I rose at the sound of a knock on my door and strode over to pull it open revealing my sworn sword.

“Ser Ambrose,” I greeted with an incline of my head.

“Princess,” he said, bowing. “Your grandsire sent me to bring you to the feast.”

“Wonderful,” I said with a tight smile. “Let’s go then. I would hate to keep anybody waiting.”

He chuckled. “I hardly believe that the festivities would begin without you, my Princess,” he said, teasing gently.

My smile relaxed and I laughed along with him. “I suppose you’re quite right,” I admitted. I wound my hand through his arm. “Come then, Ser, escort me so that the festivities may begin.”

“Of course, Princess,” he said, inclining his head once more.

As we walked down the halls, eyes followed us everywhere. From lowborn to highborn, all those in the corridors of the Red Keep let their eyes trail after us - after me, really. I knew the dress was beautiful, I knew that I was beautiful - Amalia would hardly leave until she was sure I was satisfied. And even so, I detested the way that everyone’s eyes tracked me. I saw the mixed looks. Hunger and appreciation from those who enjoyed the way that the dress hugged me just so, accentuated all of the good parts of my body. The looks of poorly concealed disdain and outright disgust from those who felt that it was wildly inappropriate for someone who adhered to the Faith of the Seven to follow. Those who stared the longest were warned off by Ser Ambrose clearing his throat and glaring pointedly at them until they looked away once more.

Outside of the hall, I saw Quentin waiting and offered him a half-smile. He lit up with a bright smile when he saw me and what I was wearing. Once he walked over and bowed fully to me, he then bowed his head to Ser Ambrose who released me so that I might take Quentin’s arm. Dutifully, I did so. I bowed my own head to Quentin in respect once we had interlocked our arms and begun walking towards the doors of the hall.

“You look beautiful in the fashion of Highgarden, Princess. What a relief,” he said teasingly. “Though I had no doubt you would.”

“I thank you,” I said, patting his arm gently. “I quite like it - I wasn’t sure if it would suit me. It was a wonderful, generous gift. Thank you. Truly.”

He scoffed. “No gift is too generous, darling, truly,” he dismissed. “You deserve the very best. I intend to ensure you get just that. Especially from me.” He offered a softer smile now. “Shall we enter the lovely festivities for the evening?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Let’s.”

Arm in arm, Quentin and I entered the hall, and almost immediately half the eyes in the room were on us. Per the traditions of highborn people, we pretended not to notice, striding confidently as we were announced by a crier. We approached the head table, at which point we separated, bowing to each other. I went to sit on the right side of my mother, the right side of the table, while he went to the left with his family. I settled in my seat between Aemond and Daeron, nodding to both brothers as I did so.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Helaena said, leaning over to speak quietly to me. “The dress suits you quite well!

“Thank you, Helaena. The dress was a gift from Lord Tyrell,” I said, giving her a tight smile.

“I think it looks wonderful on you - makes you shine,” she said in her musical, half-present voice she always had. “As I’m sure that Highgarden will.”

Aemond tensed slightly at my side. I made a show of looking around. “Where’s Aegon?” I asked to change the course of the conversation.

“Here, sister,” drawled a voice from behind me. I jumped slightly, Aemond’s hand immediately coming to rest on mine to steady mine. I turned my head to glare at my eldest brother who stood behind me, chuckling. “A bit jumpy tonight, sweet sister?”

“Fuck off Aegon,” I hissed quietly so that only he and my siblings could hear.

He chuckled, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Terribly sorry,” he said, only partially sarcastic before he went to sit. “I should not try to fray your nerves on the eve of your wedding. I am sure it must be some sort of bad omen.” 

Helaena offered a wince of apology and I merely shrugged and then rolled my eyes half-heartedly. Conversation flowed almost immediately with the arrival of Aegon - it typically did when he wasn’t obstinately drunk, which blessedly he wasn’t yet. Blessedly, our father wasn’t dragged in, so the feast didn’t take long to be officially commenced by our grandsire. And once it did, food, drink, and conversation all flowed freely enough that it was almost easy to forget the stress that was weighing me down so heavily. 

Almost.

By the time we left the hall, I had danced with all three of my brothers at least twice, and with Quentin no less than nine times throughout the evening. It was graciously easy to dance with him, which perfectly offset the tension of dancing with Aemond, the travesty of dancing with a rapidly more drunk Aegon, and a stiff Daeron, who still hated dancing no matter how old he became. I bid goodnight to Quentin at my door when he kindly offered to escort me back to my chambers and I had no choice but to agree. I’d even glared viciously at Aegon so he didn’t make some foolish, embarrassing comment about consummating the marriage early. Throughout the evening, I was the pinnacle of a blushing bride, eager for her wedding on the morrow. Doting to her family, doting to her future husband. 

I was exhausted for it.

Back in the sanctity of my chambers, I still didn’t let myself fall apart just yet. Amalia had followed me to help take my hair out of its stylings and to help me from my dress into a shift for the evening. Once donned in that, she bid me goodnight with the promise to be back early in the morning to help me ready, and I dismissed her. When the door shut behind her, no sooner did the opening to the secret passageway scrape itself open.

Aemond emerged from the tunnel, pulling it closed carefully after him. He turned to look at me and offered no facial expression as he came to sit on the edge of my bed, looking at me. I looked back at him, impassive for a minute before I reached out with an open hand. He entwined our fingers after only a beat of hesitation. I let out a sigh, the jagged, wounded edges of my heart both hurt and healed by his presence alone.

“Well, I am here, Y/N. So, what do you want from me, sister?” he asked quietly.

“You,” I said firmly, not caring if it made me sound like a wanton whore. “Please.”

He sighed and clenched his jaw. “It is…we shouldn’t.”

“Kostilus,” I begged, please, please, please. “Nyke jorrāelagon ao.” And it was true. I did need him. I’d beg him eternally if that’s what it took. But I needed to have him once more before I could no longer take him as such. Before it went from being the choice of a foolish young, unwed woman, to the adultery of a married woman - that would not be me, and I knew that. “Aemond, my brother, my twin, my other half, my heart…I beg you. I need you. A final time.”

He groaned, immediately leaning forward so he could mold our lips together. “Kostan dōrī ivestragon daor naejot ao,” he complained.

“You never should say no to me,” I stated while he kissed a hot trail down my neck. I carefully forced his head up so that he might look into my eyes. “Please Aemond…one more time…fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours.”

“Shit,” he hissed, eye closing.

Clearly, he couldn’t bring himself to argue. He lowered his head to rest on my chest, covered only by a thin shift that was near see-through, for a moment. When he lifted his head, his eye was impassive, blank, and his mouth was set in a line that was hard for even me to read. Though he did not speak, his hands spoke for him. His eye heated up as his hands traversed me. They wandered down to the bottom of the fabric of my shift and carefully pulled it up and carefully removing it from my body. Left bare, his eye wandered across me, and his hands followed suit. And, graciously, only a few minutes - and moans - later, he was unlacing his trousers, throwing them haphazardly to the side where my own shift had gone.

He traced his hand down my face for a second before burying into my hair, tilting my head back so I was forced to look at him. “Do you need me, sweet sister?” he asked, voice almost a seductive coo. 

“Yes,” I whined immediately, forcing his head down so our foreheads touched. “I need you.” And as he slid into me I could’ve cried. “Please, please, please.” He pulled out and then pushed slowly back in. “Kostilus, Aemond.” I met his eye and I saw the emotion that he was no longer attempting to conceal. My voice softened, still a whine, but an adoring, quiet one. “Avy jorrāelan, Aemond. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips, gentle and sweet. “Shh, ñuha jorrāelagon. I’ve got you. I have you. I’ll take care of you,” he murmured against my lips. “I love you.”

At those words, he tucked his face into my neck as he began to thrust in earnest. And, at those words, at his slow, methodical, loving, and devoted action, I began to feel tears leaking from my eyes. One must have fallen to Aemond’s cheek because he lifted his head and looked at me as he wiped them away with his hands, with his lips. Still, though, that did not change the fact that there were tears that fell from his own eye, falling then onto my face, into my hair. I linked our hands together, wanting to be even closer than we were now, as if that were even possible. 

Once we were finished and Aemond had been able to clean the both of us from his spend, he haphazardly pulled both his trousers and my shift back on. Then, we laid beside each other. No words were exchanged. We simply stared at each other as if trying to memorize each line, mark, and scar present on the other’s face. As if trying to immortalize the shades of each other’s eyes - as if we wouldn’t see the same color facing us every time we looked into a mirror. I linked our hands together again, and Aemond squeezed it gently. We stayed close together, so close that when we exhaled the other could feel it. Nose to nose, we fell asleep.

My dreams were more nightmares than fantasies that night. Images of death and destruction - Aemond’s mostly, and mine - followed me throughout the night. Images of loss too. Of walking into a cold and dark and not being able to follow each other. Sleep was as much of a pain as being awake was. No, it was worse, actually. Sleep felt like the lord of the seven hells had personally crafted my nightmares into frozen fire that he could use to pierce my very soul. If I were damned already - I most assuredly was, I knew - then his torment had clearly started early, ever present as I closed my eyes. And I had no choice but to accept it. To live with the burden I’d laid upon my own back. To carry it until my death. 

Waking up the morning of my wedding was, therefore, a holy sort of mercy. As though the Father and Mother were themselves smiling down on me in a small act of kindness. I felt Aemond’s hand trailing up and down my arm. My eyes flew open, desperate to see him whole and living. I was greeted with the sight of him staring intently at me, lips pulled down into a slight frown. I didn’t lean forward to kiss him as I wanted to - it both felt wrong to kiss him on the day of my wedding to Quentin, and I knew he would not allow our lips to touch. I could see it in his eyes. Still, I took his hand and wove them together - that, at least he allowed.

“I…I can’t keep saying goodbye to you, Aemond,” I said.

“I know, Y/N,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Painstakingly slowly, he forced our hands apart. He rose and pulled on his shirt. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I can’t either.” He walked over to the entrance to the tunnel and pressed just so, so that the passage was revealed to him again. “I will not ask for it to be goodbye. I will not say it.”

I paused. “Then nor will I,” I said, my voice emotional. “Are you…are you giving me away? I know father won’t.”

He frowned. “It will either be grandsire or Aegon,” he said. “I…was not given leave to do so.” He took a deep breath, then offered me a sad, half-smile. “Enjoy getting ready this morning, sister.” His voice was bland and polite, yet still mournful somehow. “I already know that you will be beautiful. But, you deserve to be happy on your wedding day too. Try to let yourself be.”

My heart was in my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to speak for a moment, trying not to gasp, trying not to release the tears that wanted desperately to escape. I cleared the blockage from my throat, blinked back the tears weighing me down, and greedily drank in my twin’s presence. 

There was only so much longer he would be here. 

Only so much longer that I would have him.

Where he could be mine.

“I…I wish it were you,” I said. 

There were so many layers in which I meant it. 

The words seemed to punch him in the chest - clearly, he knew it. 

“I know,” he said quietly, looking down at the stone of the floor. “I do too.”

With that, he turned and exited my chambers. He disappeared into the tunnel. The entrance closed. I stared at where he’d gone. I felt the tears rolling down my face before I could stop them. My chest ached in a way that I had not experienced before. I closed my eyes and covered my mouth to cover the desperate, quiet sob that came out. I sucked in a deep, harsh breath to calm myself, but still, I could not stop the tears. Even as the door opened - without a knock at all, and thank the gods that Aemond left when he did - and my mother, Helaena, and servants poured in, I still could not stop the tears from coming.

“By the seven, Y/N, why are you crying?” mother asked, worried, reaching out to grab my hand. She used the back of her other hand, and pressed it to my forehead as if I were a mere child and she was making sure I was not delirious with a fever. “Are you alright, my sweet girl?”

I cleared my throat and avoided my sister’s knowing gaze. And I pretended like my mother didn’t know exactly why I was crying. “I’m alright,” I said, voice only slightly strained. “I’m just overwhelmed is all.” I let out a half-laugh. “It’s not every day that I am to be married.” I cleared my throat again, harder this time, forcing myself to get under control. Finally, the tears started to stop and I was able to dry them away with my own hands. I would be the picture of a bride’s radiant, youthful joy soon. “Worry not, mother. I am fine. All will…all is well.”

[martelltyrellmont]

AEMOND TARGARYEN ✦ House of the Dragon, 1.10 “The Black Queen

[martelltyrellmont]

Glimpse of us

Summary: Where Viserys marries for the third time, upon learning that Alicent Hightower shows signs of Greyscale.

Part 2

King's Landing

How can one love something so small, that happened to me with my beloved Daeron, seeing him born changed my mind, surviving in red keep just for him.

Everything I do affects his future, Daeron Targaryen was born with Targaryen features but a darker skin tone.

My weakness was him and only him, four weeks have passed since his birth and Viserys has not come to see him, on the other hand, Alicent's children come more often, especially Aemond and Helaena, more now that they live in my chambers or close to me. these, Aegon on the other hand in the middle of the week was sent to Oldtown, which would do him very well.

My sweet Daeron — I whispered while I took him from his crib, like every afternoon I go out to the bay to walk and sit down to look at the ocean, I did it during my pregnancy, now I do it with boy in my arms, just him and me.—

I could imagine a life just him and me away from this castle, living in Driftmark is tempting, for a moment I closed my eyes imagining my son at home, my house, the memories are so present.— his highness.

And suddenly Erryk interrupts me, I turn my neck a little, looking up to the right side, looking at the horizon, not me at the horizon. — It will soon be dark and it would be very dangerous for you and the prince to remain here.

Thank you very much, ser. Erryk — I was about to get up, but his dress was so long that I almost fell, Cargyll grabbed me by the waist, his armor was cold that makes my skin shiver, daeron began to move his little head. — Excuse me .

Cargyll turned me gently, we were both face to face, my forehead hit his chin, he let his beard grow a bit because it scratched me a bit. — maybe what I'm saying is treason but since you were pregnant I haven't stopped thinking about the slightest chance of escaping with you, to bravos as we agreed, if only I had listened to you, you and I were now married. - He kissed my forehead, a few small tears appeared in my eyes, he dragged his hands to my head, being careful with Daeron so as not to crush him. —“Don't cry.

It's hard for me to accept our fate.” I confessed what I feared the most. .—“Daeron should have been your son.

I wiped those tears away from me the moment I finished, I walked first and he followed me, they say that calm comes after the storm, but I don't believe it, my nightmare seemed to be beginnineg.

Dinner was quiet, there were only three of us, although clearly, Aemond and Helaena would have preferred to have dinner with her mother, who went with Aegon to the old, looking for a cure.

How was today? .- only the cutlery was heard at dinner, cod with some vegetables and cakes accompanied the table.

The first to speak was Helaena who left her covers aside to take a small sip of water.— "mmmm", I guess that's fine.— She turned to see me on the left side while tilting her head and looking at a fixed point.— Today I saw a caterpillar and border a spider. - I smiled at him, when I took my glass of wine, I could hear that while he took his cutlery he muttered something about a mermaid and a dragon.

I, on the other hand, was excellent in my training. — Aemond stared at me as I did him, he had a triumphant smile. — I defeated Jacaerys twice and Lucerys 4 times, ser. Criston says I'm better than them.

And do they still bother you? .- I asked, both children were younger than Aemond Jace by two months, Luke a year respectively.

I take a bite of cod and a few minutes later a sip of water. "Not much, but why? Cole has followed me everywhere since my mother left."

A part of me felt some relief, since Daeron was born I kept thinking that possibly he would also go through the same thing as Aemond, being the youngest child in the red keep it was inevitable to think about it.

I sent them both to sleep, it took a long time to realize that today I was not going to sleep...

Look at Daeron's cradle, it was only a brief second when I took my cape and decided to go out for a while, go through the lubricious corridors, today was Erryk's day off, but my thoughts were interrupted when I saw a disturbing scene.

The advantage was that it is night. - I heard someone behind me, that someone was dragging a leg. - I must say that I am ashamed of my brother and his external tasks.

He and the princess?.- I looked at him while he pointed to the left, he only whispered a Yes.- Does Laenor know about this?

Larrys, cleared his throat.— His brother will be in his rooms with other companies at this time.— “I had heard the rumors at home”, “but I didn't think they were true”.— What a pity that he is the Heir to your house I imagine my house will soon own Driftmark.

A disturbing concern grew inside me. — I knew that those children were nothing of mine, they just usurped a last name. — I cleared my throat, touching this one. — I guess the King doesn't say anything.

Suppose well, it's a bit sad that even the servants think that you are only beautiful but stupid. — That was considered treason, I frowned. — But if the king only cares about one thing, the collateral damage will be paid by his family and his son .— I turned to see the scene again.— a true Velaryon who will probably never sit on the throne of Driftmark.

I shook my head, I couldn't believe that all of this was true, but as the clubfooted man said, a strong would sit on my father's throne and command the largest fleet in Westeros, it was the most heinous crime of which had knowledge.

At that moment I could only imagine my Daeron and how a bastard took away his right.

The next morning, I ordered Lina to send a crow, as discreet as she usually is, my parents would have to find out about that overwhelming event.

Nerves can kill you. - I kept pacing in my small living room until I heard my mother's voice.

I ran to hug her. "You're here for a reason, right? If I told Viserys they would cut off my head for treason...

My sweet girl.— I touch my silver hair, hugging me, a warm and maternal hug.— I know that I have taught you not to let an injustice go by, but both your life and that of your brother would be at risk.

I moved a little away from his grasp. "You mean we're not going to do something? Daeron's future is at stake."

But your son is a Prince, he will have titles and will marry any maiden from a good house, a Lannister or even a Tyrell.— If such a different voice, so calm, increased my desire to go claim Rhaenyra.— I'm not saying I agree with what they do in that strange marriage but...

I put people's lives at risk, yes, I want to expose adultery, especially considering that they would kill me and that would leave my son abandoned. I started to play with my hair, I only did it when I was very stressed.

Exactly, darling, you will handle all of this wisely.” She kissed my forehead and she left my chambers, I suppose she went to see Laenor and his family.

That night I cried after dinner, as I was supposed to have woken up Prince Aemond, it was not my intention at all. - Are you alright, Your Highness? side, touching my shoulder and still worried, it was an extremely humiliating scene for me and disturbing for him.

Sweet Aemond, it's okay. — I wiped my tears, directing my gaze to him. — just my nonsense.

It's not nonsense, Your Excellency I don't think you'll cry over nonsense. — To be smaller than Aegon, he was kinder. — Is it for my father that you cry? He's like that, he always agrees with Rhaenyra and — he stayed thinking for a few seconds which made me restless.

Say it Aemond would never judge you or things would come out of these walls.” Second time this week he played with my hair.

He cleared his throat—and the Bastards of him.

@bellameshipper

Part 1

[martelltyrellmont]

ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ

Summary: Where Viserys marries for the third time, upon learning that Alicent Hightower shows signs of Greyscale.

Part 2

My name is Arianne Velaryon, youngest daughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys, Rider of Vemithor, third wife of King Viserys Targaryen, Mother of his last Son Daeron "the gentlest" Targaryen or also known as the Hightower bargaining chip or the treacherous whore

Note: two years older than Aegon, 13 and 14 years younger than Laena and Laenor.

Foreword

The Old, The True, The Brave.

Castle Driftmark - High Tide

2 years before

I could hear the waves crash against the rocks, in such a violent way that the walls rumbled, with my eyes half closed I knew what my destiny was, I was ready or I convinced myself that I was, exactly 8 moons ago the King had decided to marry again , the rumors pointed out that the queen had fallen from grace, she had Greyscale.

My father Lord Corlys offered my hand at minute one when the king announced his second marriage, as Aegon the Conqueror exercising the right to a second wife, until now I had been courted by the king, when announcing our engagement my family celebrated the victory, a victory to my base.

I always thought that I would marry someone Young, for example ser. Erryk Cargyll - a sigh took hold of my ribcage, lying on my bed, I only had the company of my lady Lina Mares.

Her eyes were violet like mine, we shared almost all the characteristics of the same hair color, except that my skin tone was lighter than the rest of Velaryon and her bastards, she looked at me the same way I looked at her, her gaze reflected melancholy and anguish.— I heard the rumor that Lord Corlys rejected his proposal, being a lower house than yours, my lady, it is also said that for this reason I led him to want to be part of the royal guards

Lina sighed, but continued— look on the bright side both the king and queen are each sick, if you care about being with the king every night, I don't think it's like that, remember that Aegon spent 10 nights with Rhaenys for 2 that It was happening with Visenya. — but Lina forgot the little detail Alicent was sick. — On the other hand, my mother informed me that Princess Rhaenys, I ask that I accompany you as your lady-in-waiting in Red Keep — the white-haired woman took my hand. — you will not be alone and I doubt your parents will leave you alone in that nest of vipers as you call it.

Just smile. "Thank you seven, there's only one more detail left, it's awkward that my stepson and I are only two years apart, remember what he said when they announced our engagement." He let go of my hand and we both sat on my bed.

Yes, and it was very rude of hers.— We sighed.

I didn't know how to feel about it and the thing is that Aegon from what little I know him was right, "He's my age, how is that possible, at least 5 years older than me", I heard him roar, looking at my father with disgust and to his, if I could do that I would have done it too, that same day Otto Hightower congratulated me, his look was disappointed, it is not strange he practically took the place from his daughter who at that moment was her the only one looking at us was a look of complicity, sadness, desolation but above all fraternity, she was my age when she had Aegon, then Helaena and Aemond, both children congratulated me warmly and coldly, respectively.

»»————- -ˏˋ : ♛︎ : ଂ————-««

A week later…

After that day, my life went so fast that I didn't know what day it was, the wedding was fast, embarrassing and the tournament was the bloodiest so far.

Erryk did everything possible to ignore me, the person in charge of my security was the one at the request of my father, it is worth saying that he strictly prohibited me from talking about that guard and our old relationship, on the other hand Aegon is kinder and more understanding, I can't say much about Aemond who rarely sees us, Helaena spends it in my chambers, both the king and I are in separate Chambers, on the other hand Alicent had asked me to speak two days after the wedding.

Lina, walk faster.— my dress was blue with black, my hair was braided, revealing a braid that reached my thighs, a small tiara with a shell was on my head.— wait.— I exclaimed at the moment of this catch up with me.— I hate nerves.— I looked at both sides of the hall.— If he found out about Erryk and me?, will they think he is here for me?— My eyes showed terror or something like that because Lina placed her hand on my shoulder.

Don't say that even in a whisper.— she hugged me, to then look at that guard who was 6 steps from us.— the walls hear and can misinterpret your words.

We separated and continued walking more slowly and laughing on the tapestries, lina stayed behind and that servant from Dorne, guided me to where Ella was, Alicent was taller than me, curly hair, reddish, green eyes, you could tell she was always she had been so beautiful, my predecessor, she smelled of jasmine and vanilla, she also had a royal guard, being. Criston Cole, she had seen him a few days ago talking to Cargyll, they both stayed outside the room.

Darling!” she exclaimed as if she were his favorite person, we were two meters away, for obvious reasons.

I looked down when he spoke to me, I stupidly bowed. "My queen, how has she been?" .- Stupid, I told myself, you are also the queen.

You don't need to do that, we're both queens.— Then I turned my gaze to hers, I could only think, what concept she had of me, perhaps this invitation was because she liked me or simply hypocrisy.— Sit down, they're bringing you wine .

"Do not eat or drink what the Hightowers give you", my father had warned me, before leaving, and it was that he did not hurt to take care of his youngest daughter, especially when a rival member is a carrier of a lethal disease.

My parents were of Valyrian blood, therefore I was too, but even so they did not want to risk it, it is understandable my father had made trips to Valyria so carefully, that his stories left me Horrified. — How do you feel about your life at home? .

Sitting at that table, I looked at the tablecloth which had a tower with a flame embroidered on it. "Very good, well I guess." A nervous laugh left my mouth.

The talk continued like this until I saw a collapsed Alicent. "To be honest, I wanted to ask you a huge favor." I just nodded my head and she continued. "Could you take care of Aemond and Helaena? My sweet little man is just a child who needs to his mother, but as you know I have this disease, he is a quiet but withdrawn child, while Helaena, she is my sweet girl, she loves insects.— She was a mother who cared for her children, seeking help to raise them.— As you know, the king ignores them.

I've seen little, but yes.— I interrupted her, by mistake.

I just smile, continuing. "You'll realize that the king only has eyes for his eldest daughter and grandchildren, he has abandoned my children so much." He didn't know what to do, Alicent had started crying. "This is more." It is evident that he is going to abandon them one more time.— His hand was on his mouth and nose revealing wound marks, "like mine" I thought to my miasma.

Alicent, don't worry, I can take care of your three children, the best I can, if I were in your place I would also ask for the same thing.— She looked at me for the last time, gratefully, she called one of her girls to give the order to take all the things of her three children to the wing where the king had accommodated me, sixth floor to the left, one floor below her, but above Rhaenyra who ignored me, with her children, except my brother and her It is worth mentioning that we both had extremely different ages.— I promise to pray for them and for you.— “Too much confidence” I reminded myself and I remembered my mother's scolding about the confidence that I dream of presenting sometimes.

Thank you my sweet queen.— We both said goodbye.

»»————- -ˏˋ : ♛︎ : ଂ————-««

Eight months later.

A month after taking care of Alicent's children and Rhaenyra's protests at this, Viserys had requested that the maesters check me and that's what happened.

Congratulations my queen, you are pregnant. — Of course my son was not created out of love, but obligation, but that did not matter that I was so happy about it, the bells rang day and night for two days, my parents traveled more frequently, They didn't like my closeness with my stepsons, but they tolerated it.

This can benefit us. — my mother told me. — you will not make the same mistakes as your predecessor and this is a great advance.

— I looked at my stomach, caressing it. — I know, only Rhaenyra keeps pointing me out as a traitor. — The last few months I had noticed the change of the heiress towards me, especially in my state and how I became so attached to her younger brothers. - On several occasions, I had to scold Laenor's children, because they made Aemond cry, she claims that I don't have to interfere. - I was furious, exalted. - But she can scold them. - I closed my eyes remembering the A bad moment that he had suffered the previous day at the hands of his stepdaughter/sister-in-law. — Aemond, in any case, has no mother, he sees her sporadically, the three of them are helpless, how could he abandon them.

Motherhood leaves you very sensitive.— The queen who never was responded, we both knew that Laena and I were polar opposites and that was what my mother remembered.

The weeks flew by until finally, my baby was born, it was at dawn, Viserys was the first to take it, naming our son Daeron Targaryen.

Sorry for my English 😰

[martelltyrellmont]

I'm Keeping You Waiting (But I Won't Wait On You)

FORGET ME TOO PART 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Summary: Daeron and you land in Dragonstone to follow through your marriage in the tradition of his House. Spending time on Dragonstone turns out to be quite illuminating for you both too. When they return to King's Landing, it is with unexpected additions at your side, that change the tides of fate. And then you come face to face with Aemond again. And things shift even more from there. By the end of the chapter? Everyone's just exasperated.

Note: So this series is gonna be in 6 parts instead of 5 so I don't hit you all with chapters that are too terribly long. 

Word Count: 10.8k+

Landing in Dragonstone yielded far more fanfare than I’d expected based on the strained relationships that the Hightowers seemed to have with Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, and their children. And, well, there were far more dragons too. I tightened my hold on Daeron as five other dragons of varying sizes sat on the ground before us where we were landing. He absent-mindedly stroked my hand in comfort.

“That’s my sister’s dragon - Syrax, Uncle Daemon’s Caraxes, my nephews’ Vermax and Arrax, and my cousin’s Moondancer,” he said as we began to descend. He shot a smile over his shoulder. “Despite whatever you might have heard of them, Y/N, I trust them entirely. I would never have brought you here otherwise. I would’ve just stolen a dragonkeeper to officiate. We are safe, my love.”

I thought back to all of the words from the Queen, spoken in anger and fear. The words of Aegon, his spoken in fear and bitter resentment for his future. The words of both Aemond and Otto Hightower, theirs spoken in disgust, contempt, and fury. The words of Helaena, hers spoken with compassion and deep care. I peered at Daeron, at my husband, his words spoken with a fondness and love that I hadn’t expected. And I decided to trust him and Helaena. I loosened my grip around him some and knew that I would be alright. I nodded even though he could not see. Still, as we landed, I did not move to get off until he extended a hand to me - unlike in Winterfell. 

With us safely on the ground, Tessarion let out a strange squealing screech at the other dragons who then screeched back and they all took to the skies. I flinched slightly into Daeron, watching as they launched upwards and began to…play with each other? I nearly laughed at the sight before I recalled myself. I turned back to the crowd of people with us. I saw the dragons’ owners all there - and the rest of their family - with pleasant smiles on their faces. 

“Welcome to Dragonstone,” Princess Rhaenyra offered with a smile on her face. 

“Thank you, sister,” Daeron said. He stepped forward, as did she, until - surprise of all surprises - they embraced fondly. I tried to not let my face betray my surprise. “Thank you for having us. I cannot express how much it means to me.”

She smiled fondly at her younger brother and pat his cheek. “You don’t need to. I understand. Do you not recall I did this once upon a time?” she asked with a musical laugh. Daeron looked back to me and smiled, holding his hand out. I took it without hesitation and let him pull me forward into his side. “Ah, yes! You must be Lady Y/N!”

“Hello Princess Rhaenyra, it is wonderful to meet you,” I said, bowing my head cordially, formally. 

“Please,” Rhaenyra laughed, “you are my brother’s wife. You can just call me Rhaenyra - no need for the formalities. You are amongst family here.”

“Right, um, thank you. Please…please don’t use my title then. I hate it on a good day,” I said, slightly strained. Daeron smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of my head.

Daemon slid up beside his wife and looked at me quizzically. I blinked back at him. We had spoken a few times in letters, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t give away any familiarity with the man whatsoever. After a tense few seconds, he gave a massive grin and pat both Daeron’s shoulder and mine.

“Forgive us for not attending your first wedding,” Daemon said. “We would’ve sooner died than see that cunt get something good in his life. But, by the grace of the gods, here we are with that hideous business behind us.”

I snorted before I could stop myself. “That we are,” I agreed. “Thank the gods, indeed. And do not apologize. I assure you that you only missed a miserable ceremony and feast - I don’t believe any were happy at all.”

“Shocker there with Aemond as the groom,” Jacaerys drawled, making his brothers chuckle. My lips quirked up while Daeron openly joined in the jeering laughter.

Daemon snickered himself. “Well, we shall do our best to attend the formal ceremony in a few months still. We would love to support Daeron here. Make it clear where we…stand for this union,” he said.

Daeron smirked. “And I appreciate that, Uncle,” he said.

“So, tell me, how was Winterfell?” Daemon asked with a smirk on his face.

“Better than I’d even expected from Y/N’s descriptions,” Daeron admitted. “Uncle I met eight direwolves! And they just…they let her pet them. One let me pet it.” Somehow Daemon didn’t seem particularly surprised. “And the godswood is incredible there. I mean, truly incredible.” Daeron shot my a sly look. “And the ceremony was beautiful. Simple. Perfect.” I felt my cheeks flush. “And I’m eager to have Y/N be my wife in the ways of Old Valyria just as in the ways of the old gods.”

Rhaenyra looked to me. “Valyrian ceremonies cannot be undone,” she warned me.

“Good,” I said simply. “All the better before Aemond tries to come up with a way to disrupt the wedding when he returns.”

“In that case, we need not hesitate to begin a moment longer,” Rhaenyra said, smiling. “Daemon, boys, go get my brother ready. Girls, let’s ready Y/N.” She offered me a smile. “We’ll give you a more formal tour of Dragonstone later. But we would not dream of making you wait any longer if that is your wish.”

Glancing over at Daeron, who was smiling so softly I could have cried, I nodded. Rhaenyra beamed. She took my hand, separating me from Daeron, and pulled me towards Rhaena and Baela who stood with polite smiles on their faces as we greeted each other. Then, we began walking back towards the castle. It was larger than I’d ever imagined and looked different too. It looked as though it had been carved from obsidian and hardened with dragonflame, left as a relic of the past. It was an incredible sight to behold. 

In the castle, Rhaenyra took the time to brief me on Valyrian ceremonies in a bit more detail than Daeron had when we first spoke of them. Then, she handed me traditional robes that she helped me change into and then her, Rhaena and Baela took to doing my hair in a traditional fashion. By the time I looked in a mirror, I was shocked at what I saw. They assured me that I already looked a Targaryen just in them, but that the ceremony would make my tie to the family all the more official. I smiled at the thought. And then, just like that, they were bringing me to where the ceremony itself would be done. We stood atop a rocky cliffside. We waited no more than two minutes for the men to appear, walking towards us.

“Don’t be nervous,” Rhaenyra whispered to me, patting my arm after she heard my sharp intake of breath. “It’s going to be wonderful. And…I can tell that my brother truly loves you. I’m sure you have a host of questions and concerns in your head right now. But try not to think of them. Just enjoy this.”

“I’m…I’m not nervous exactly,” I confessed. “I’m just surprised that we got here. I spent years miserable. I didn’t think I’d get to experience any level of love. Much less the…the concern that Daeron shows for me every day.” I looked over to Rhaenyra. “I’m just…I’m overwhelmed.”

Rhaenyra smiled and pat my arm again. “It’s quite alright to find yourself overwhelmed. A Valyrian wedding is not something that happens every day,” she said, chuckling. “But, I understand what you mean, Y/N. I do. Daemon was my second husband, as well. I know quite a bit of your plight when you speak of a marriage you didn’t want to be a part of. And because I know that, I can assure you that the second time is much better. And easier. It will be wonderful. I know it. I’m sure of it.’

I looked over at the men, quickly approaching. I looked back to the Princess - the future Queen, if I had anything to do with it. “Thank you, Rhaenyra,” I said.

She merely offered a smile and nodded to me. The men then stood before us. Daeron was dressed in traditional robes just as I was, hair pulled back from his face the same as Daemon. He appraised me with a grin that broke out, quickly overtaking his whole expression.

“You look beautiful,” Daeron said, misty-eyed.

“Now, now. There’ll be time for that later. Come,” Daemon instructed, leading us a bit further to where there was a smile fire burning on the ground being tended to by servants. “Stand on either side of it.” Daeron and I positioned ourselves as such, careful not to come too close to the flame. “Join hands.” We did. Daemon looked to us. “Are you sure about this? It cannot be undone. You will always be one.”

“I am sure,” I said firmly. 

“Quite positive, Uncle,” Daeron confirmed.

My eyes widened, a sudden realization hitting my brain. I felt stupid. I let out a laugh. “By the gods, Daeron,” I laughed. He looked at me, confused. “Would it be that Daemon is your teacher of Valyrian customs, perhaps?”

Daemon and Daeron both exchanged a look and smirked. “Guilty,” Daemon admitted. “I also happen to be the one who informed him that there were secret passages in the Keep. I hope you were able to use them wisely.”

“There you go, giving away all of our secrets,” Daeron drawled, rolling his eyes at his uncle. He looked at me and smiled, a promise wrapped in it. “I will explain everything as soon as we finish here. It won’t change anything, I don’t think. You still trust me, right?”

“Of course I do,” I said, rolling my eyes fondly. I took his hands again. “Terribly sorry. Continue, Daemon.”

“This,” Daemon said, bringing forth a knife from his pocket, “is a dagger of Old Valyria. It is made of dragonglass. Also called obsidian by the maesters of the Citadel. We Valyrians call it frozen fire.” He handed it to Daeron. “Follow in the traditions of our house to begin binding yourself, Daeron Targaryen, to Y/N Stark, by blood, by soul, by life.”

Daeron, looked to me, a silent question. Remembering our conversation of Valyrian tradition, I nodded in confirmation. His hand moved towards my face, steady and calm. He quickly cut the center of my bottom lip, offering a half-smile when I didn’t flinch. He then took my hand and gently placed the knife into my hands. Reaching up, hand only trembling a little bit, thank you very much, I did the same, quickly cutting the center of his bottom lip.

“Mark yourselves as each other’s, blood of each other’s blood, coming together,” Rhaenyra, standing beside Daemon, instructed quietly. 

I could tell the verbal instructions were mostly for my benefit. Still, I appreciated it. The overwhelming love building in my chest was near blinding, seeing the happiness radiating through Daeron’s expression. And also, it was impossible to ignore the slight…edge to the situation. A burning sort of magic, something old and other. Something that had to be of Old Valyria because I had never experienced anything of the like. And it fogged my mind immensely, I could hardly summon a thought of the conversation I’d had with Daeron of the traditions or Rhaenyra mere hours ago. All there was, was him. Daeron reached up to my lip, swiping his thumb through the blood, and pressed it to my forehead. I followed suit, doing the same to him.

“Allow now for your blood to flow as one. To mix together,” Daemon said. He handed me an empty chalice.

Daeron glanced down at the knife in my hand. Offered me his palm. Nervously, I cut it, careful to not make it too long or too deep. Immediately, Daeron tilted his hand over the chalice that I held, letting it ooze in for a few seconds, until there was a layer of his blood at the bottom. I offered him the knife to his good hand and he took it. The smile he offered had blood in his teeth from the cut in his lip. He sliced open my palm quickly so I wouldn’t feel the pain of the blade, and I turned my hand over the chalice I held, letting my own blood fall into it and mix with his.

“You may seal your wounds with the fire if you wish. I do recommend stitches though,” Rhaenyra said, offering each of us a small piece of fabric to cover the wounds on our hand with.

Daeron cracked a smile. “I think we’ll go for stitches,” he said. I nodded in agreement.

“Then, in that case, drink the blood that has mixed of both of you. Allow it to fill both of you and make you into one being in two bodies,” Daemon said.

Daeron took the chalice from me and raised it to his lips. I watched in a morbid sort of curiosity as he tipped the chalice back. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed and then took the cup back from him. His lips were dripping red, which his lips quickly darted over to remove. My heart stuttered in my chest.

I raised the chalice to my lips. Tipped it back, allowing the thick blood to flow into my mouth. It was both not as terrible and worse than I’d anticipated. I swallowed before my brain could register the texture or the metallic taste and lowered the cup, willing myself not to grimace - only just succeeding. Daeron smiled at me proudly.

“Now seal this marriage union with a kiss,” Rhaenyra instructed.

Daeron leaned across the open fire and pressed a short kiss to my lips. The sting of the cuts in our lips meeting was fascinating. The taste of blood between us was ever-present. And I was drunk of the feeling of having him so close. Of feeling like we were becoming one. If this was how Aegon felt actually drinking, I could at least in part understand his alcoholism. 

“You are bound together now and forever in the ways of Old Valyria,��� Daemon said, smile on his face. “You are one. One flesh. One heart. One soul. Now and forever. Declare yourselves as such.”

“We…we are one flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever,” Daeron and I repeated, looking only at each other as we spoke, foreheads leaning together. I steadfastly ignored the tacky feeling of the blood on our foreheads.

Just like that, the ceremony was over. But the electric feeling of being one did not cease with it. It was as though I could feel Daeron’s heart beating through mine, separate but the same. It had to be Valyrian magic otherwise I was just pitifully in love. Daeron stepped around from the other side of the fire over to me and kissed me again, firmer this time, longer. Then, he accepted the extra piece of fabric Rhaenyra offered and dabbed at my lip to get the blood away.

“Hello again, my wife,” he murmured.

“Husband,” I greeted, a fond smile on my face, stretching the cut that was trying to clot on my bottom lip.

Rhaenyra and Daemon both cleared their throats. “Come. We have much to discuss as Daeron said. And we should stitch your palms now,” Rhaenyra said.

Daemon laughed. “Should we not give them time as a newly married couple,” Daemon asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

“I will not be bedding my wife until we are married in that godsforsaken Sept in King’s Landing. I will not make my wife lie to my mother more than she must now,” Daeron said, rolling his eyes. We’d both already established that as being the best idea for both of our sakes. Daemon and Rhaenyra looked startled at the statement but made no attempt to change our minds. “Let’s make haste.” He glanced up. “I see a storm coming in. Did the dragonkeepers manage to retrieve our belongings from Tessarion when she landed?”

“They did,” Daemon confirmed. “They’ve already been brought inside. Come, then.”

We all walked back to the castle, and Rhaenyra and Daemon sent off their children save Jace and Baela elsewhere while we settled in what looked like a war room. I tried not to show my nervousness as we all sat down. Daeron turned me around, taking the headpiece off of me and letting my hair fall naturally once more. He smiled at me.

“As beautiful as you are like that, this may take a while. I want you to be comfortable,” he explained.

I looked between the five others in the room. “Explain then,” I said shortly. “Whatever…whatever it is that you must.”

Daeron was the first to speak, offering me a weak smile. “I know that you’re well aware of my father’s desires for Aegon to be installed on the throne after my father’s death,” he began with. I blinked in surprise, didn’t allow myself to react. “And I also know that you’ve been feeding Daemon and Rhaenyra whatever you could of the rumors around King’s Landing since you first arrived. It was what you and Cregan both bargained for.” I blinked again and held my breath, keeping my eyes locked on the man I’d just bound myself to forever. He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I have been doing the same from Oldtown since I turned fourteen and realized what…nefarious plans they had in store for my family. I hold no ill will against you for it. I do not wish to see Aegon on the throne. I wish to see Rhaenyra. She is almost obscenely more qualified. And it will be so when our aims are achieved - I know we can make it happen.”

“You can relax, Y/N. You are safe here,” Jace explained. “As I said to you in my letter, Cregan and I have been exchanging letters. We’ve been working to ensure that you remain safe if fighting is to break out, of course, but also how to advance our plans without you being the one doing so. So many eyes have been on you.”

I remained silent. Looked around at all of them. Daemon and Rhaenyra both looked remarkably relaxed. There was a knock at the door. We all paused. A maester came in with supplies to stitch Daeron’s hand and mine. Rhaenyra took it from them and sent them away. She began then to tend first to my hand, stitching it herself. I tried not to act shocked that the future Queen was, with the painstaking gentleness of a mother, stitching my hand.

“You are safe here, Y/N,” Rhaenyra confirmed. “And we have a plan. We just need you to agree to it. If you find it suitable.”

“I…I suppose then you should say it,” I said, still cautious. “I would not agree to what I am not aware of.” I glanced over at Daeron, more of a glare really. “As it appears I already have once today. And that is enough for me.” He winced at my words, but clearly understood my anger. 

And that was what began the longest three-hour conversation of my life. And the most rampant series of mood swings that I’d ever experienced in my life. I was confused, then angry, then elated, then confused again, then mortified, then relieved, then happy, then angry. And the cycle just kept repeating with each new person who spoke and as the cycle continued. I sunk into a state of relief from there, sitting back in the chair openly gaping as they posed their plan to me. When I opened my mouth, it was to agree to their new machinations to usurp the existing machinations of the Greens. Then, the room - indeed a war room - emptied out, until it was just Daeron and me.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked softly, leaning over to touch the top of my hand.

“No,” I replied. That truth. The anger at his concealment died as quickly as it had been born - we’d both concealed our desires for the future from the other. I turned my hand to hold his and interlocked our fingers. “Extremely surprised? Absolutely. A touch blindsided even? Yes. But, not angry, no.” I gave a half-hearted smile. I squeezed his hand, brought his hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles as he so often did to me. I let out a short laugh. “I am a bit angry with Cregan for keeping me in the dark.”

Daeron reached out and stroked my cheek with his thumb, sad smile on his face. “He wanted to protect you. That’s all. He knew that by keeping it from you…that cunt Larys Strong couldn’t suspect anything to report to my mother. If my mother heard even a whisper she’d have told Otto. And then you’d be safer. We both just wanted you safe,” he said quietly. “I’d rather you be angry at me. I was far more out of line making that decision than he was. You were by all accounts under his protection.”

I laughed. “No, my love,” I murmured. “I…you’re both…it’s fine. I just feel foolish, I think, for not realizing everything.”

He smirked. “That means we played our parts well and did the jobs we needed to,” he said. “Still, I hate to think that we’ve hurt you.”

“Not hurt. Just…wildly startled,” I said, shaking my head. I glanced around. “Come on. I don’t want to see the inside of this room any longer. Not until I have to.” I rose, Daeron a half second after me. 

Before I could move, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest in a tight hug. I couldn’t help but melt into the embrace. I could be in his arms for the rest of my life and it probably wouldn’t be enough. I wrapped my arms around him and dropped my head down to his shoulder. I sucked in a deep breath and let myself fall more into the embrace.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. 

“I love you too,” I replied, lifting my head from his shoulder. Daeron stretched down and kissed me firmly, soundly on the lips. I stretched up to meet him and deepened the kiss. I let out a sigh of relief when his tongue tangled with mine and he pulled me closer, keeping a hand firmly on the small of my back to keep me as close to him as humanly possible. When we separated for air, I took in a gasp of air and looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. “I love you.”

He brushed away a tear that fell from my eyes. “Don’t cry, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“I don’t mean to,” I said, closing my eyes, small smile on my face. “Just…overwhelmed still. It’s been an…interesting day. We…we are going to work everything else out, okay?”

Daeron leaned down, holding me by the back of my neck and pressed a firm kiss to my lips again. I chased him down for another, another, another. Then, I forced myself to stop and look up at him, giggling as he looked down at me. His eyes held a combination of love and lust that one was supposed to see in the eyes of their husband. I couldn’t help but revel in it. I watched in endless amusement while he started to reign himself in, laughing when he peeled his body away from mine, looking almost mournful for it. 

“I,” he drawled, pulling further away until he only held my hand, pulling me towards the door, “need to show you around Dragonstone. Where we’ll be staying for the rest of the week before we return.”

I grinned, wiping the last remnants of tears from eyes. I nodded and let myself be pulled from the room. Daeron followed through with showing me around Dragonstone, first on foot, through the castle. Then on horseback across the rest of the land. Lastly, on dragonback over the whole of the island. By the time that night fell and we needed to eat, I was exhausted and so was Daeron. My head lolled on his shoulder as we took the carriage Rhaenyra sent us to get us from the dragonpit back to the castle. I smiled up at him and he leaned down to lazily kiss me for a moment.

“We’re going to sleep brilliantly tonight,” he said with a grin.

“Gods above, yes we are,” I said, laughing. I reached my hand up putting it over his heart, feeling the steady thrumming of his heart almost in time with mine. I tilted my head and kissed him again. He returned it, smiling and wrapping his hand around my neck to pull me closer still. “You, my husband, are going to make it exceedingly difficult to resist consummating our dual marriage with.”

He groaned. “Ugh,” he whined. “Don’t say that. I’m trying to make us do the right thing.” He pouted and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Then he smirked. “I know it’ll be worth waiting though. I’ll wait as long as I need.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ll need to wait until the wedding. A few more months. No more,” I said dryly, rolling my eyes.

He put his hand over his chest dramatically. “Your wish. My command,” he vowed. He leaned towards me once more, and pressed a kiss to my lips. “My beautiful wife.”

When we arrived back at the castle, we went to dine with Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children. It was nice to sit and relax after being on the move all day. Daeron kept his hand on my thigh the whole time, keeping me close to him, keeping me grounded. It was surprisingly lovely and much more light-hearted than the time spent all together earlier. For which I was very appreciated. And after all was said and done, Rhaenyra gave her final instruction of the night.

“Luke, Joffrey. Bring your uncle and his wife to their quarters,” she said.

“Yes mother,” Joffrey, the younger of the two, dutifully said as they both rose to their feet.

“Our quarters?” I asked.

Rhaenyra smiled at me. “I see no reason that you two shouldn’t stay in the same quarters,” she said, shrugging. “I can have a second room prepared for you if you’d prefer.”

“No,” I said, probably too quickly. “I think it’s reasonable. Daeron?”

He offered a smile. “I’m more than happy to sleep in the same quarters,” he said.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll have baths set up for you both as well. Luke. Joff,” Rhaneyra repeated.

At that, Daeron and I rose to our feet and followed the two young Velaryons out of the room. They led us through the corridors chattering on about Dragonstone while we nodded at the torrent of information that poured forth from their mouths. Soon enough, they deposited us in a large antechamber instructing us that the bedroom was just beyond. They fled quickly as if afraid we were going to start stripping in front of them, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. I looked to Daeron, a warm smile on my face and found him already looking at me, a look of devotion painted across his features.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around me before he got the message and pulled me tight to his chest. He looked down at me so we were nose to nose. I took a deep breath in and held it a moment, watching Daeron as his eyes roamed over my face, searching for something.

“You’ve taken today remarkably well,” he commented.

“Well, I’m your wife twice over now already. I’m going to fall asleep in your arms again. How could I be upset?” I posed. “The only reason I find myself upset with you is at the prospect that I shall have to fall asleep without you for - what - nearly three months without you when we return?”

He chuckled. “Make no mistake, my love. If you want me in your quarters, nothing will stop me. You are my wife and I know where the secret tunnels are in the castle. I am sure I would find a way to make it work,” he said, hand darting down to pat my butt, startling me for a second before I laughed. “Then again, perhaps it will be best I stay away until we are married in the Sept. Then I won’t be tempted to take you.”

I ran a hand through Daeron’s hair and pulled him down into a searing kiss that was not as long as either of us would have liked. “You can’t simply say such things and expect me not to want you to do so, Daeron,” I scolded. 

There was a knock at the door. It opened to reveal servants carrying water for baths just as Rhaenyra promised. They set up two tubs and filled them with hot water, scented oils, and flowers before leaving just as quickly as they’d come. Alone with Daeron again, I glanced over at him. He pulled me to his side and started to lazily kiss my neck. He left a column of hot, open-mouthed kisses up and down my neck, hand winding around my stomach to pull my back flush to him.

“I am so glad we are finally alone, dear wife,” he murmured.

“As am I, dear husband,” I said through a breathy sigh. I shook my head and forcibly pulled away. “Come. We must bathe. We must rest. We have had an exhausting day.”

“You are, of course, right,” he granted with an easy smile. “Might I help you with the laces of your dress?”

“You may stay firmly by the other tub,” I said sternly.

He laughed. “I promise that I shall do nothing untoward, my dear,” he said almost so convincingly that I believed him. Still I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from smiling. He groaned. “Ugh, you’ve outwitted me again, my love.”

“Oh hush,” I said, rolling my eyes. 

Carefully, I reached behind myself, unlacing the dress as quickly as possible. As I did that, Daeron leisurely removed his clothes and gave me an eyeful of the whole of him before getting in the tub. I felt my cheeks flame and I looked away as he sat down, much to Daeron’s amusement. Nonetheless, I lifted my chin, finished removing my own dress and hastily got into my own tub, facing the opposite way as him so I could glare at him.

“Oh, my love, don’t be embarrassed. I would pay a lot of money for the opportunity to just stare at you all day. You belong amongst only the finest artwork of the Realm,” he purred.

I rolled my eyes, cheeks still flaming. “Oh that’s enough,” I said, blushing. “Save the compliments for when you’re actually going to bed me.”

He laughed. “I shall wait then, wife. Just as you command,” he said with a wink.

Quite childishly, I flicked water at him. He gaped in mock surprise, but nonetheless stopped his fond torment. We spoke as we bathed, openly drinking in the other’s forms. Then, we quite kindly helped each other dry and dress. Thus, by the time the servants arrived to check on us and remove the bath water, Daeron was already plaiting my hair. After all was said and done, we settled into bed, and I was quite content. Falling to sleep in the arms of my husband was quickly becoming one of the most comforting things I could imagine in this world.

The rest of the work went in a similar fashion, playing a playfully dangerous game of cat and mouse with each other on Dragonstone. Well, that and planning our next steps as a group. As much as I hated sitting in the war room, a fair amount of time was indeed spent there. But, by the end of the week, as Daeron and I climbed onto Tessarion,  Rhaenyra and her family were also boring their own with supplies to follow on a ship behind them. And as we took to the skies, I could only pray to the gods that there would be no issues waiting for us back in King’s Landing with the extra guests at our back.

As expected, there was a royal greeting waiting for Daeron and me. Even the King was out that day, standing heavily against a cane he used for support. And Cregan too stood, still in King’s Landing until the time Daeron and I would marry - publicly, that is. I schooled my face into impassivity as Daeron helped me off of Tessarion. I smiled at the Queen as I approached her, offering a low curtsy. 

“It seemed rude to refuse their offer for help in the planning. I knew not what to do, my Queen. I hope you are not too upset,” I said, putting on my best mournful eyes.

She grimaced. “It is alright, Y/N,” she said quietly, patting my arm. “I am merely glad you and Daeron are back. Were you treated well?”

“Incredibly,” I promised, nodding.

Rhaenyra approached us from where she’d greeted her father and bowed her head to the Queen.

“Alicent,” she said.

“Rhaenyra,” the Queen replied. 

Rhaenyra frowned. “I wanted to apologize. For showing up unannounced with no raven to warn you, first. But for much more. I would…I would beg to speak with you, my Queen,” she said, voice warm but strained.

Alicent glanced over to me. “Excuse us, Y/N,” she dismissed.

Dipping my head in understanding, I walked over to the King to greet him. In the chaos of it all, I gave Daeron a smile, knowing that we could make this all work out in the end. By the early afternoon, we were finally able to escape to my quarters. Rydan, also glad to see me back, greeted us and assured us that he would be right outside of the door as soon as he was done taking a short break to relieve himself. Obviously, Daeron and I gave him leave.

Turning in a slow circle, Daeron looked at my room. “Do you wish to move into these chambers once we are married…again?” he asked giving me a devious smile. I shot my eyes to the door in warning. He laughed. “We’re alright, my love, my wife. None will just walk in.” He smiled at me, holding a hand out. “Come here.”

I rolled my eyes but put my hand into his allowing him to pull me into his arms. He tilted my chin up with a crooked finger and smiled down at me. Our lips met in a kiss that started to feel more natural, more needed to survive, by the day. I leaned further into his arms, wanting to disappear into his arms, the embrace a comfort that felt the same as the godswoods in Winterfell. He pressed me closer to him and I moaned slightly when he gripped my jaw to move my head just how he desired. I put my hand over his, desperately trying to make sure that he didn’t change his grip on me. 

Then, in a disturbingly on the nose twist of fate, the doors to my chambers were all but thrown open. I flinched into Daeron’s arms, leaning more into him, head whipping around while he turned me away from whatever threat had done that. Neither of us were quite prepared for what we saw then.

Aemond.

“What is this, then?” Aemond growled.

“What are you doing barging into Lady Stark’s chambers?” Daeron growled back, standing in front of me as if trying to conceal me from his fool of a brother’s sight. “What right do you have entering these chambers at all much less so abruptly?” Daeron glanced down at his brother’s side. “And armed?”

Aemond bared his teeth at his brother as if he were being the unreasonable one. “I could ask the same of you brother,” Aemond said. “In Y/N’s chambers unchaperoned…trying to devour her.”

Daeron scoffed. “Mind your familiarity that you use with Lady Stark it is woefully unearned,” he warned. “And mind your accusations, brother.”

Quite suddenly, far more erratic than I’d ever seen from him, Aemond drew his sword and leveled it with his brother’s chest. I gasped and pulled Daeron back a few steps while Aemond advanced. Even so, Daeron planted his feet refusing to move. And then the tip of Aemond’s sword was touching right over where Daeron’s heart was. The steel was kept steady, Aemond unflinching. Daeron did not move towards or away from the steel and simply glared at his brother, equally unmoveable. 

“Why should I not kill you brother?” Aemond hissed.

“Oh, you mean other than the hideous title of kinslayer you would achieve?” Daeron asked, bored. “You have no right to threaten me, brother.” He scoffed. “It shames me to call you such.”

“Aemond, you must calm down. Don’t do anything stupid. You know nothing of what you speak,” I said. “Please. Put the sword down.” Half warning, and half plea. I would not let him hurt Daeron so long as I could help it. I simply couldn’t allow it.

“He shames you and threatens your reputation with his actions. Yet you think I am at fault?” Aemond spat.

“Bold words from a man who actively tried to ruin my love’s life for three years of a miserable marriage and infidelity,” Daeron snapped back. “You don’t deserve to breathe the same air that she does, much less speak to her. So don’t.”

Aemond looked ready to reply. Ready to thrust the sword into Daeron’s chest to be frank. The sound of steel being drawn came from the door and I flinched into Daeron’s back until I looked over and saw Rydan. His eyes were locked on Aemond, an angry gleam in his eyes. Daeron wrapped his arm around me, keeping me firmly to his back as he continued staring at Aemond. Never had I been quite this tense, frankly.

“I take a fucking piss and you manage to show up. Drop your blade. Now,” Rydan barked.

“Who are you to demand anything from a prince of the Seven Kingdoms?” Aemond snapped.

From the door, another voice called. “Prince Aemond. Put the sword away.” Ser Criston Cole. Aemond’s eyes briefly moved towards him, then settled back on Daeron. “You will not draw blood on this day, my Prince.”

“Aemond!” came the Queen’s voice then, coming from down the hall as she then sped towards the door. Other footsteps followed. “What are you doing? Put your sword away! Why would you draw your sword against your brother? What evil has possessed you now?”

I quick glance showed Rhaenyra at Alicent’s side, holding her arm tightly. Clearly the Queen was moments away from entering and beating the stupidity out of her son if that’s what it took. Daemon looked on curiously. The Valyrian steel, Dark Sister, was seconds from being drawn if the look in his eyes meant anything. Aemond locked eyes with his uncle. Scowled.

Daeron took the opportunity to flip the sword from his brother’s hand, careless for the slice to his palm he received in return. I gasped as he stooped down to pick it up before Aemond could fully react and held it in his bloodied hand. Clearly furious, Daeron looked to the Queen. Aemond looked ready to lunge at him. Daeron raised the sword to his chest in a very clear warning of the violence he would commit the moment he deemed it necessary.

“I will not allow this obscenity to go unanswered,” Daeron growled. “Son or not, brother or not, I will see this dealt with, mother.”

“As will I,” Alicent said, voice grim. “Come. We’ll all meet in the King’s solar. He and the Hand are meeting with Lord Stark currently discussing the wedding plans. I am sure they would like to learn of this.”

“Mother,” Aemond all but snarled.

“No,” the Queen said sharply. “Come. All of you. Now.”

Her tone left no room for disagreement. As such, we followed the Queen from the room. Rydan took the bloodied sword from Daeron’s hand and foisted it off to Ser Cole to deal with. He kept glued to my side that Daeron wasn’t, glaring at Aemond like that was his true job. The entire time that we walked through the halls I was examining Daeron’s sliced palm while his other hand stayed firmly around me. I dabbed at the blood with the sleeve of my dress and determined that it was too deep for comfort.

“It’ll need stitches,” I told him quietly.

“I’m alright, my love,” he replied. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead and continued pulling us along until we reached the King’s solar. Ser Harrold Westerling stood outside. He all but sighed when he saw the group of us approaching and entered the door, calling a warning to those that were inside. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of this.”

I let out a small breath and gripped his arm. I couldn’t say anything, too tense at the potential intrusions upon our plans by the cunt who seemed to always interrupt and ruin things. As the eyes of the King, the Hand, and my brother met us, their faces immediately morphed into puzzled frowns. Until Cregan spotted Aemond, then his eyes turned to daggers. Even the Hand, sitting beside the King, looked miffed as he stared at his grandson. Evidently even that moron knew that Aemond was the only reason we all could possibly end up here at once.

“Alicent…what in the world is going on?” the King sputters.

“Aemond drew his sword on his brother. Again,” she spat. “And I didn’t even know that he was back yet. Which means that before announcing his arrival to the King and Queen he decided to first go and harass Lady Stark.”

The King, instead of reacting with surprise, let out a sigh. He gestured around to the table and had everyone take a seat. Alicent sat beside the Hand, Daeron and I beside Cregan, Daemon and Rhaenyra on the other side of us. That forced Aemond to sit in between his sister and his mother, a tense frown on his face. I sent Rydan to get a maester to come and sew Daeron’s injured hand, fretting at the way he was still oozing blood with no sign of slowing or coagulation. Daeron merely laid his good hand on my leg and squeezed once in a silent affirmation he was alright.

“Explain yourself son,” the King said shortly. “Why have you returned - when did you get back? And moreover, why would you draw steel against your brother? What could have prompted that.”

Aemond raised his jaw, excessively proud given who he was. “I was going to speak with Y/N and saw Daeron in her chambers trying to defile her before they were wed,” he said shortly.

Everyone turned their eyes to Daeron. He rolled them. “I was not defiling her. I was merely kissing her,” Daeron corrected. “Although, I do believe that Aemond left out the part of the story where he breezed into my wife’s chambers without so much as knocking. And don’t think that we’ve forgotten you have not answered why you returned, Aemond.”

“Your wife, brother? Last I checked you have not married her,” Aemond snarled. “And the way your hands were roaming her body was not very becoming of a lady. Or, I’m sorry, has she become a whore in the time I’ve been away?” He spared a half a glance my way. “I can’t claim I’d be surprised by it.”

Alicent reached over and smacked Aemond upside the head. My mouth connected with my hand in surprise, eyes widened. But then, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing in surprise. Aemond gave his mother a whitering glare, but the one she returned was twice as bad, aged to perfection through decades she’d spent stewing in utter loathing of everything she dealt with in her life on a day-to-day basis. I glanced to the door of the solar as the door opened, a maester bustling in with a needle and thread. Rhaneyra took it from him and dismissed him, taking to stitching up her youngest brother’s hand for herself, just as she had when we were on Dragonstone. This seemed to only shock Alicent and make Aemond even more irate.

“He is a fiend that you are allowing to waltz all over our family’s reputation - our grandsire sees it as well as I do,” Aemond said acidically. “He is a heathen and she is a whore. Marrying them will only serve to sully all of the Houses involved. The wise decision, and again, grandsire and I both agree, is to marry her back to me.”

“Aemond!” the King exclaimed, scolding. “How dare you say such things. Your actions of late have been entirely unbecoming of a prince! What do you think you’re playing at even suggesting such a thing? By leveraging such insults? Neither you nor the Hand have a right to say such a thing here.”

“I will stand firm in my convictions, father,” Aemond said. “He is a fiend. And she. Is. A. Whore. After the flagrant displays she’s been putting on since his arrival I have no doubt that she was out as a philanderess bedding any who would even look her way! And she’d do it while she should’ve been home, tending to the duties she had as a wife!”

Cregan rose to his feet abruptly, his chair squealing behind him as it scraped against the stone of the floor. I cringed at the sound, shifting more into Daeron’s side as I looked up at my brother. His face was hard set. His eyes were alight with a malicious energy I only ever saw when he was enraged. And his mouth was turned up in a sadistic smirk.

“If you say that about my sister and her husband again, I will carve out your tongue. And I will use it as bait when I go small game hunting. That is all you would be worth,” Cregan said, voice like stone. “And that is not a threat. That is a promise I make. I don’t give a fuck if your father feeds me to a dragon afterwards. But if you begin to insult them again, then I promise that you will not live to finish it.”

There was a heavy silence that fell over the room. But none countered his words. They simply settled and sat in a tense, uncomfortable quiet. It festered and built until the Queen turned her head towards Cregan. A look of terrible confusion on her face.

“I’m sorry, Lord Stark, but did you say husband?” she asked. Suddenly, she looked exhausted. And it looked like she was accepting that there was something she didn’t know. “Do tell me that was simply a slip of your tongue.”

“Alas, Your Grace, it was not,” Cregan said shortly.

The Queen looked at me with eyes that were a strange mix of frantic and resigned. “I beg you explain, Y/N. And quickly before we have to assume the worst,” she said, dryly. I glanced over at Daeron who was wincing while Rhaneyra finished the clean line of stitches. He glanced back at me and offered me a slight shrug. Leaving it up to me. “Now, if you’d please, Lady Stark. The King, Hand, and I are quite curious.”

“Oh, mother, please,” Daeron said, narrowly avoiding rolling his eyes if his face was anything to go by. “This was a plan of my own making. Y/N had no clue until we’d left.” 

“What?” the Hand asked, voice acidic and clearly angry.

Cregan plopped back into his seat and looked at the Hand with no attempt to conceal the disgust on his face. “Watch how you speak to my sister, Lord Hand,” he said, smile still feral. “I think that she’s already suffered enough under your nose. If you add further insult to injury, well, I doubt the King would stop me from injuring you to handle that insult.”

The King let out a sigh. “Lord Stark, please,” he said firmly. He turned his attention to Daeron and me. “Explain what you mean, Daeron. Quickly.”

“It’s quite an easy explanation, my King, I promise,” Daeron said assuredly. “I made a…slight adjustment to the flight plan I’d discussed with you before Y/N and I left. So we first made a brief stop in Winterfell to get married in the ways of the old gods as befitting of House Stark’s traditions. Then, when we went to Dragonstone, I begged my sister and uncle to officiate a Valyrian ceremony for us. They kindly obliged.”

Alicent’s face was pale. The Hand looked furious. The King pinched his nose in exhausted irritation. Cregan looked bored. Rhaenyra and Daemon looked quite pleased with themselves. And Aemond…his face held a righteous fury betraying the sick sense of belonging he still felt he had over me. 

“You did what?” Alicent asked, voice grave, looking sick. “We have spent countless hours planning…have dedicated so much money…so many resources…” As she trailed off I was a bit shocked that she managed to not faint. Her skin was so pale that it matched the Targaryen’s hair.

“Oh worry not, mother. We’ll still get married in the Faith of the Seven. As befitting our plans that have been in the works for months. But, we both wanted to get married in the traditions of our Houses,” Daeron said firmly. He smirked. “And I could not deny my wife of something so important to her. So powerful. She is part of my family - part of this family - moreso than some others have been recently. I could deny her nothing. I love her most devotedly already.”

The blow landed as Aemond slammed his hand on the table and rose. Alicent put her hand on his arm and firmly pulled him back down into his seat. She looked to me. “Did he force you to agree to this?” she asked seriously.

“No,” I replied immediately. Incredulously. I shook my head, frankly offended at the thought of such a thing. “He did not force me at all.”

Rhaenyra saw her opportunity to slide into the conversation. “I understand your ire and your concern, Alicent. I too was reluctant when they asked,” she said. A lie, but an excellent addition to trying to get back into the Queen’s good graces. “But then when they came they told us what they’d done. We were terribly surprised when they said they’d claimed to be coming to Dragonstone a week earlier than they had. But we could not resist agreeing when we saw the love between the two. We could hardly deny them marrying in the ways of Old Valyrian tradition just the same as you having them marry in the Faith of the Seven.”

“Nevertheless, how could you not tell us!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t believe them,” Aemond said cooly. 

Daeron leveled a glare at his brother. He took my hand and gently opened it, revealing the slice to my palm that had stitches freshly removed from it, still puckered and healing. Without looked away from Aemond he raised it to his lips and placed a kiss on it. The King, in that moment, immediately knew the truth of it. He sat back in his seat, resigned to this new reality. The Queen took the cue from her husband and marginally sat back, looking at us, defeated. The Hand was still fuming in his anger so much one could imagine steam rising from his ears.

“A cut on a hand means nothing,” Aemond pointed out with a cruel smirk. “The whore is clumsy. Hardly a shock at all.”

Cregan went to stand but Daeron raised a hand in warning, exchanging a glance with my brother. It was his turn to protect me now. “That is the last time that you may get away with saying a word against Y/N, brother. After this I will have you feel the full force of the consequences for speaking negatively against Princess Y/N, my wife,” he warned, tone dark and promising. “Because that’s what she is Aemond. And as angry as that fact might make you, as bitter as you may be about what you perceive yourself as having lost when you never treasured it in the first place, she is my wife now. Not my possession, not a fucking plaything to use to cover my own misdeeds, and not a godsdamned whore. She is my wife. In the traditions and eyes of the old gods, the gods of Old Valyria, and soon to be the new gods as well. So you may cry about it if you wish. Throw a temper tantrum if you must. But understand this. You will never have her back. Our hearts beat as one. A Valyrian wedding cannot be undone and I would not have dreamt of such a thing regardless. She is mine, as I am hers, and there isn’t a thing in this world that could hope to change it. The gods themselves have smiled twice upon our union and will do so a third time.” He let out a dry chuckle. “And understand me when I say that if you ever put your hands on her again, enter her chambers without permission, attempt to speak to her alone…or even look at her wrong again? I will kill you. I will wear the title of kinslayer with the same pride that Aegon the Conqueror wore his crown. And I will make sure all know why.”

Aemond rose jerkily to his feet once more, shaking off the hand of his mother and snarled at Daeron. Daeron and Cregan both rose to their feet. A silent assurance of the alliance they had to each other. A very visceral promise that Aemond would meet a most…unfortunate end should he be fool enough to press this.

“Daeron, this was a reckless decision on your part. And pulling Y/N into it was very foolish. Think of how Lord Stark must feel,” the Queen scolded. “Gods above…tell me this wasn’t some ploy to get into the poor lady’s bed, Daeron. Tell me you are not that foolish.”

“Gods, mother, I hate that you could even think such a thing of me,” Daeron said, disgruntled frown on his face. I reached over and grabbed his hand - the not freshly stitched one - and squeezed it gently. “I have not yet bedded my wife. I saw no need to make her lie to you in case it our nuptials weren’t revealed as such. Plus, we would not risk shaming the family if she were to end up with child before we were married before the people of King’s Landing.” He offered a polite smile. “Plus, our first two ceremonies were dreadfully small. My love deserves a grand wedding, with a man who adores her properly, before an adoring crowd.”

“He is telling the truth,” Rhaenyra added. “They could not have stayed in Winterfell long enough to consummate their marriage. That much was clear based on the length of time that they spent away from King’s Landing to when they arrived at Dragonstone. And I am sure we could have Lord Stark send a missive to Winterfell inquiring such of whomever the officiant was.”

“As if Daeron would be above fucking her on dragonback,” Aemond muttered.

“Another word brother and I will slit your throat,” Daeron snarled.

“Enough,” the King bellowed. “You will both be silent. Now.”

“And,” Rhaenyra continued, looking only at Alicent, “for the duration where they were on Dragonstone, Daemon and I had them in separate quarters. And there were guards who remained stationed outside of their quarters each night. You could interrogate them yourself if you feel the need to ensure I am telling you the truth. But they never once tried to leave. They steadfastly remained pure in their time on Dragonstone.” 

A lie. Each night, each wonderful night, had been spent wrapped in each other’s arms, trading lazy kisses and touches. But Rhaenyra’s lie was beneficial to the both of us. So, going along with them was the most obvious of solutions. The Queen visibly deflated at Rhaenyra’s promises, some color returning to her cheeks.

“I…I do apologize for whatever strife this would cause you, my King, my Queen. I just…I love Daeron,” I said, my voice emotional. Only partially overblown and dramatic for the effect of it all. The words themselves remained, at their core, true. “I could not dream of waiting any longer after we had taken off and he suggested his plan to me. He assured me he would’ve flown directly to Dragonstone if that were my desire. But, I desperately wanted to marry him as well. I couldn’t have even dreamt of saying no. I pray you and the King can forgive us of this.”

The King raised his hand before any could speak. “The love that you and Daeron have is pure. There is no doubt of that. I am glad to hear that you have been able to marry in the tradition of House Targaryen and the tradition of House Stark. It is…unexpected news, and I wish you would have told us. And you may never do such a thing as that again.” His voice was stern in that. “But, it was for love. Something that I cannot fault. I think back of the days of my youth and I know that…in another life I would have almost doubtlessly done the same to marry the one I loved even a day sooner,” he said. He sounded largely amused and fond at this point. The look in his eyes showed that part of him was trapped in distant thought, distant memory, distant imagination. Almost doubtlessly daydreaming of Queen Aemma, Rhaenyra’s mother. Then, he shook himself out of it and looked at us, a sterner look on his face again. “Either way, the commitment that you took on being married in the ways of Old Valyria is serious. As you said Daeron it cannot be reversed. You both must understand this.”

“You must be joking, father,” Aemond complained. “You’re allowing this farce?”

“It is no farce,” Daemon said. His voice cut through the conversation like dragonglass. He had an analytical look on his face and his lips quirked in a mocking smirk. “I watched myself as the ceremony was completed. Instructed them on precisely what to do. Helped your brother dress in the ceremonial robes of our family. I handed them the frozen fire they used to seal their union. Their hearts beat as one.”

“Oh why are you even here, uncle?” Aemond spat angrily. “Terribly eager to reintegrate yourself into court politics again with my sister? Because that has gone so well for you the previous times.”

Daemon cocked his head to the side. Showed no sign of rising to the bait. “Why are you here, nephew?” he retorted.

“In my home?” he asked icily. 

Daemon chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, Aemond, you were given clear instructions to sit in with the lords of the Riverlands to learn more of their territory and manage the issues that arise as a representative of the crown. And I understand you were instructed to remain there until summoned back. Based on the reaction of the Queen and the King…I am quite interested as to why you’d be back. I don’t believe any summons was sent for you.”

“And why would you know what you speak of?” Aemond asked, desperately grasping at straws.

“Interestingly enough,” Daemon said, lips still in his cruel smirk, “I think I might have an answer.” He looked dramatically around the table. “We’re all family here, yes? I do believe I am able to speak freely?” He didn’t wait for a confirmation before continuing to speak, lips curling up into what could only be described as a smile of pure innocence. Only his eyes betrayed him. “I know that Rhaenyra and I, just before leaving Dragonstone, received an invitation to the wedding of Alys Rivers and some lord in the Riverlands. From what I understand there had been issues in the inheritance of Harrenhal. So what happened, nephew? Tell me. Did your mistress decide that she couldn’t do with acting as a whore as a noblewoman? Did she decide that she could no longer afford to be seen as one with a child out of wedlock? Did she realize that it would affect her inheritance too greatly? How unfortunate for all involved. Pity for the poor boy who allegedly looks just like you.”

Aemond was halfway to throwing himself across his sister at Daemon before the hand stood up and stopped him with a hand to the chest that quickly morophed to two hands on his shoulders. Daemon laughed at his nephew, shaking his head mockingly. The King’s face was pinched with stress, lips turned down in a frown that seemed to be there all too often these days.

“Otto. Get him out of here,” the King instructed. “Now.” Otto manhandled Aemond out, who offered no assistance the entire way. The King looked at Daemon disappointed. “Brother. I would appreciate if you stopped trying to actively make tense situations worse.”

“Of course, brother, of course,” Daemon practically cooed, nodding. 

Alicent clapped her hands together once, bringing everyone’s attention over to her. She had a tight smile on her face. “Well, the end of the discussion is that we’re still doing the wedding. And we’re going to do a bedding ceremony. Our willingness to do such will ensure that everyone knows you’re pure, Y/N. We will leave no room for speculation.” She offered me a brief grimace of sort-of-apology. “The…marriages that you two have initiated will remain the secret for our family alone. Right, husband?”

“Yes. Right. That is what we shall do,” the King confirmed.

Daeron offered his mother a bright smile, finally sitting down next to me once more. He took my hands and raised them to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to them as he had mere minutes earlier. This time, it was born of true affection, rather than just to taunt his brother. “Thank you mother, father. For understanding,” Daeron said, tone soaked in generosity that was only partially genuine. “We appreciate it more than I could dream of conveying.”

“So much,” I added. “We appreciate it beyond words.” 

“And a third wedding sounds good. Like I said - my wife deserves a large, beautiful ceremony. And there’s none that I would trust more than you with it, mother,” he said. He shot a look over towards Rhaenyra. “I admit that I’m also glad that Rhaenyra will be here to help you mother. My sister will help take some of the pressure and stress off of just you. It’ll be wonderful.”

“Right,” Alicent said, voice warmer than I’d expected. Clearly she would appreciate the help. Perhaps the Queen would make this easier than we’d anticipated. She looked over at her old friend and gave her a small smile and nodded. “Thank you, Rhaenyra. You…you will be a great help. I know it.”

“Of course, Alicent. I’m happy to help you however I can,” she replied, gracious smile on her face. I could see in that cherubic smile why she was called the Realm’s Delight, indeed. She reached over the chair in between them and pat Alicent’s hand affectionately. “I’m terribly sorry that I was not here to help you sooner. But I am now. And I shan’t leave you.”

I looked at Daeron, smile on my face. The words were true. Painfully true. From the Queen and Rhaenyra. From him and from me. And, as I looked at my husband twice over - soon to be thrice over - I had to carefully keep my smile from growing too big, and from having any sort of harsh edge to it. Looking into Daeron’s eyes though, it was easy enough to keep the edges of my grin soft. Daeron was easy to love. Easy to be gentle with. He made even the harshest blades of reality feel a bit less biting. I didn’t know what exactly it was, in truth. He was just…special.

TAGLIST: @beccaerenswife @kemillfreitas @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crispmarshmallow @firefairy @winterbirdx @yariany02 @selahstars @omega-horus @cicaspair418 @sahanna @whitejuliana1204 @ipadkidsworld @immyowndefender @helloitsshitzulover @malfoytargaryen @thatssoslytherin @bellameshipper @angelface1927 @splaterparty0-0 @lolitaisreal @tempt-ress @impartinghades @arcielee @ladywin17 @im-obsessed-with-marvel @hhjhbhh @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @dc-marvel-girl96 @tracklitless @krispold @lol-im-done @blushinyouth @strawberryepie @schniiipsel @yohooitskay @astrumark @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @caramelcandescence @sweetlittlepotato19 @fictionalcomforts @tssf-imagines @fckwritersblock @maylaysia109 @julczimozart @daddysfavoritesexkitten @crazylokonugget @actualhawkesworld @thenovelcarnival @devils-blackrose @afro-hispwriter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @carriellie @girl-with-an-orange-cat @immortalbloodhuntress @riddlewithanxiety @burningshewolf @khaleesihavilliard

If your tag is italicized it won't let me tag you for some reason :(

[martelltyrellmont]

[martelltyrellmont]

Absolutely gorgeous 💜✨

By @enstatia

[martelltyrellmont]

Between lions and snakes

AU HOTD/Hogwarts

Slytherin!Aemond x Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was just no match for the rivalry between you and Aemond Targaryen.

A/N: English is not my first language. Read the warnings, please. This is the first part of a two-shot that I created based on an idea that my beautiful friend @eddiemadmunson gave me. I would also like to dedicate this to my dear and wonderful @allihavenegativethoughts, who shares my love of HOTD and Harry Potter. I love you both ❤️❤️ This first part is an introduction, things heat up in the next and final chapter 🌚 Tell me what you think 😘🥰

Warnings: enemies for lovers, stark reader, house rivalry, character rivalry, competition, probably wrong descriptions of quidditch, sorry for it...

You felt the sharp, icy drops of rain hitting your face with force from the speed at which you flew on your broom, dodging a devious bludger coming your way. You could barely see the crowd in the stands, a mix of red and gold on one side and green and silver on the other. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. But you could hear them, even over the incessant roar of rain and thunder rumbling in the skies.

A game between the two most competitive houses in the entire school was always dramatic. The rivalry that began with Godric Griffindor opposing Salazar Slytherin's idea of ​​banning Muggle students from attending Hogwarts has lived and breathed to this day. Lions and snakes, two super predators. Neither of them bowed their heads to the other. The packed stands on both sides proved just how willing each house was to back their players to victory.

Quickly releasing one hand from the broom, you tried to remove excess water from your face, the rain dripped from your eyelashes straight into your eyes, making it very difficult for you to see. Chaser, Jace, had scored another point for Gryffindor, but you didn't celebrate as loudly as the rest of the stands. You knew you needed to concentrate, the match was very close and the scores were very close to each other as both teams had great players completely determined to win. You knew there was only one really reliable way to win now; as the team's Seeker, you had to catch the Snitch to end this game and ensure Gryffindor won.

The Slytherin crowd roared in ecstasy as Aegon Targaryen sidestepped Luke's defense and slipped another quaffle through one of the three arches, scoring another point for his house and pushing the score even closer in their favour, making you swear aloud. Luke was a fine keeper, but Aegon was a devil in the form of a determined Chaser when he wanted to, and he took special pleasure in torturing the players who wore red and gold.

You gasped happily as the Golden Snitch whizzed past you, your eyes immediately focused on it as you gave chase, hope bubbling in your stomach. Out of the corner of your eye you saw two Slytherin Chasers sandwiching your house Chaser, Baela, between the two of them, disorienting her through the pouring rain until she slammed into one of the stands and fell. They had taken another Gryffindor player out of the picture. You snarled and ducked, flying even faster after the Snitch, furious and determined to catch it.

The Snitch flew fast and zig-zag, but you weren't one to give up, your lion-like determination making you keep up with it, no matter how difficult it was. And he was much closer now, so close that you reached out to him, trusting that you could reach out enough to grab him. But before you could reach it, a strong push took you away from your desired destination.

"Shit!" You screamed as the blow almost knocked you off your broom. "If you want to kill me, Targaryen, there are less obvious ways to do it than pushing me off a broomstick into a packed stadium as a witness!" Your enraged scream did little, if anything, to disturb the platinum hair boy who was flying along with you, blocking you and trying to pull you away from the Snitch.

Aemond Targaryen, the Slytherin Seeker.

It hurt to admit it, but he was good. In recent games he had secured victory for Slytherin consecutively, always catching the Golden Snitch, even when his team was already winning. He was annoyingly smart and proud, always wanting to be the best at everything.

But today wouldn't be one of those times, you thought forcing yourself to go faster, dodging yet another blow he tried to throw at you. Like Gryffindor and Slytherin, you and Aemond were open rivals. You wouldn't let him win today. The crowd was screaming watching the two fighting to reach the snitch, with each risky maneuver you made towards the little ball he followed you closely, flanking your side and preventing you from reaching the goal. Damn, he was a thorn in your side.

The pouring rain made it increasingly difficult for you to see, the flying Golden Snitch getting more and more blurred with each passing second. It was irritating how Aemond could see something as small as that so well with only one good eye, the other useless under that eye patch. You needed to risk it, and risk it big before he took the victory for himself.

And it was with that line of thought that you realized that you were no longer fighting for Gryffindor's victory, you were fighting for your own victory over Aemond. But that didn't embarrass you, your house would win with it in the end anyway.

The Snitch zoomed towards the ground suddenly, catching both of you by surprise. But you were quick to recover and do the same, throwing all your weight down, faster and faster, Aemond wasting no time in following close behind. The speed with which the two fell would scare you if you weren't so focused on catching that mischievous little golden thing.

You were a few feet off the ground now and you saw Aemond reach out. He was going to catch the Snitch, you knew he was. But fuck you weren't going to let that happen. In a bold and desperate gesture you jumped from your broom to his, startling Aemond and making them both lose their balance, falling to the ground. The fall hurt, you felt your cheek dragging in the wet grass and your hip throbbing from the hard hit to the ground. As if it couldn't get any worse, you and Aemond spun around each other several times in a tangle of bodies and grunts of pain, both of you rolling across the grass on impact.

Gasping and scratching, you finally managed to stop spinning, Aemond pinning your smaller body beneath his. His blond hair was wet and grassy, ​​his face scratched and flushed with exertion, his breathing anything but steady. And yet he looked at you like he was the superior creature on this Earth.

"If you're going to try to kill me, Stark, there are less obvious ways to do it than pushing me off the broom with a packed stadium as a witness." He grinned triumphantly, using your own words against you, very pleased to have managed to pin you down under him.

Despite the constant noise of the rain, the stadium was silent. Very silent. No one said anything as they watched expectantly to see if one of you had, in fact, caught the Golden Snitch. And it was with immense pleasure that you saw Aemond's triumphant smile wiped from his face as you looked at him innocently, right hand opening wide enough to reveal the small golden ball with flapping wings, clamped tightly between your fingers.

"What is it, Targaryen? Did the lion get your tongue?" You sneered as the Gryffindor crowd erupted in cheers. Amidst the deafening roar of your home, Aemond glared at you with open confusion and anger, as if he could indeed hang you at any moment. It made you smile even more.

But when his blue eye flicked down to your scratched and bleeding cheek, you saw for exactly four seconds something eerily like concern and affection on his face and in his gaze, momentarily overcoming his angry expression. His hand that held one of your arms trapped in the grass raised to your bleeding cheek, as if he was going to comfort you. But then, as quickly as it appeared, the worried expression was gone and he was on his feet, turning his back on you and marching angrily towards his team.

You lay there for a few seconds, listening to the red and gold crowd screaming in victory, your body aching from the fall and your head confused by what just happened. But soon the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived, Luke helping you to your feet and grabbing your body in a hug so tight you thought if any part of you had broken from the fall, with that hug, he had put it back together.

"You are awesome!" He said smiling, even when Jace pulled him so he could hug you too. You smiled, being infected by everyone's happiness. But, as a background, you felt that Aemond's strange attitude took your focus away a bit.

"VICTORY PARTY TODAY IN THE COMMON ROOM!" Jace yelled at everyone, making you shake your head from conflicting thoughts and enjoy the sweet taste of victory. A roar of agreement left your lips. After all, you had won!

"Minus 10 points for Gryffindor."

Professor Otto Hightower's bored voice rang out in the classroom. Your mouth fell open in confusion and disbelief. "But why? The answer was correct!" You retorted indignantly, receiving only a pointed look from the potions master. "Yes, it was. But nobody likes an annoying know-it-all."

You huffed irritably, hearing the smirks of the Slytherins in the room. All the points you had gotten earlier for your house in Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Daemon Targaryen, were being taken away from you one by one now. Professor Hightower was Head of Slytherin house and he made no attempt to hide his disdain for all other houses, especially Gryffindor. And he was particularly bitter today over his house's Quidditch defeat, taking points away from the lion's house for the simple fact that his students were breathing, apparently.

"Okay, for the potions project you'll be paired up. Next class I want the Armotentia potion made to extreme perfection and a detailed report on how you made it." He said crossing his hands in front of his body. "Love potions are potions that cause the drinker to have an infatuation or obsession with the person who gave it to him/her. Love potions are considered powerful and highly dangerous. Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence." He repeated exactly the same words you had answered, showing that you really were right. You rolled your eyes and Baela muttered a 'proud old snake' from your side, both of you chuckling softly at the comment.

Your laughter was cut short as a crumpled ball of paper landed on your desk. Quickly grabbing it before Professor Hightower saw it and decided it was reason to take more points from your house, you took the paper under the table, spreading it across your thighs.

"I don't agree with him. In fact, I think your know-it-all way is very sexy, you bookworm. But seriously, I can think of more interesting ways to use that smart mouth of yours. Find me in the broom closet at the end of class and I can show you.

Aegon"

You frowned as you struggled to understand Aegon's almost illegible handwriting, an absurd urge to laugh taking over you. He was persistent, you had to admit. Picking up your quill you quickly scribbled something to him.

"If another funny note like this ever gets my hands on it, I'll make sure you puke up slugs all day, Targaryen.

Y/N"

You quietly tossed in his direction as Professor Hightower began assigning project partners.

"Baela and Aegon Targaryen." The young woman beside you groaned in frustration and you smiled, ready to mock her that she should mentally prepare herself to do this project on her own, as Aegon is clearly not the best or most dedicated of students. But before you could say anything, Professor Hightower had pronounced your life sentence. Or rather, your death.

"Y/N Stark and Aemond Targaryen."

Oh no, you thought.

He kept listing the project's duos, but you wouldn't listen anymore. Your eyes going to the boy sitting furthest from you, Aemond looked completely composed, unaffected by the professor's words. But you knew better, he was just controlling himself. Underneath that shell of indifference he was seething with rage for you, you knew that. The looks he threw your way in the library, in the halls, at the dinner table... he hated you. Now with an even brighter flame, as you had broken his Quidditch winning streak. You'd rather do the project with Aegon, even if it meant doing it all yourself while he made those dirty little jokes. But that was preferable to Aemond's unnerving, oppressive silence.

"Baela..." You said with puppy dog ​​eyes to your friend. "Oh no, no. I won't trade with you." She looked at you in exasperation, shaking her head. "Where's your gryffindor courage? Come on girl, take it as a challenge!" You grumbled dismissively at her encouraging words.

Professor Hightower dismissed the class when he finished listing the project partners and assignments for the next class. Baela went to speak with Aegon, who was screaming like a Pixie along with his gang of friends. You wished her luck and watched her walk away, catching your own breath in preparation for speaking with Aemond.

Waiting for some students to leave the room, you walked over to Aemond, who was standing by the table gathering books for the next class. The Slytherin's uniform fitted perfectly to his tall frame, the white of his hair contrasting with the green and black fabric of his cloak. Even if you approached him from his blind side where he used the eye patch, he recognized your presence, adjusting his posture and staring at you.

You stopped in front of him, clasping your hands and lifting your head to face him. "I have free time after Transfiguration class, if that's okay with you we can arrange to meet in the empty classroom near the gardens to start the potion, we won't be interrupted there. I believe that if we are focused, it won' t take long time." Aemond didn't answer, just looked you up and down and then exhaled a laugh through his nose, turning his face away and going back to gathering his things.

The little shit.

"Listen to me Targaryen, I'm not happy doing this project with you either. But I'm not going to let my grades suffer because of you, so if you've had enough of being so childish, give me an answer now ." You said instinctively grabbing his arm to get his attention, but you regretted it the very second you did it. Aemond looked slowly and intently at your slender fingers caught in the fabric of his cloak, running up your arm until he was looking you in the eye again. A chilling look of warning. You gulped and pulled your hand away quickly, but the damage had already been done.

You forced yourself not to shiver as he leaned down towards you. The scent of him, something akin to mint, book pages and leather assailing your nostrils as his bright blue gaze burned yours in challenge.

Merlin, why did he hate you so much?

"I will be there."

Taking the books he turned his back on you, walking confidently to the exit of the room. For the second time he left you speechless. What was it about Aemond Targaryen that made you turn into this nervous, mute mess?

Merlin, you really expected to survive this project.

Taglist: @zverea / @m00n5t0n3 / @alexandra-001 / @polireader / @dudfahsn / @xcharlottemikaelsonx / @123forgottherest / @sad-3-soul @marvelita85 / @rayrayredpanda / @alysinwonderland-at-tea / @motherofdragons1998 / @justsumtuffstuff / @eddiemadmunson / @dark-night-sky-99 / @deeeeexx / @zillahvathek / @wasntpriscilla / @darylandbethfanforever9

(If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, please let me know.)