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moonflowerbread · 1 year

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retribution

ret·ri·bu·tion

/ˌretrəˈbyo͞oSH(ə)n/

noun

punishment inflicted on someone as vengeance for a wrong or criminal act.

"Perhaps, the Bronze Fury would help you in your search for retribution."

fandom(s) : HotD/DotD (asoiaf)

genre(s) : fantasy, drama, horror, romance, tragedy, AU

pairing(s) : N/A

rating : 16+ recommend

warning(s) : reader has lost their marbles (again), mentions of death, AU!!

plot : After witnessing the murder of Prince Lucerys Velaryon, his twin knows what they must do.

A/N : Enjoy!! If enough people enjoy this concept, I will definitely continue this story :) Also, gender/sex is not mentioned!!

(gif(s) used above does NOT belong to me and I do NOT claim any rights to it)

Never once had you felt so much rage. You felt as though you had drowned in an endless sea of malice and anguish.

Just hours ago, your mother had sent her three oldest children away on their dragons to deliver messages containing a reminder of their loyalties in the past.

Your mother had sent Jacaerys away to the North in hopes of reminding Lord Cregan Stark of their sworn loyalty for our mother, the Queen. While Jace flew towards the North, you and Lucerys rode your dragons to Storm's End, the seat of House Baratheon.

The two of you had been met by the unkind Lord Borros Baratheon who was displeased that you and Lucerys had come "empty handed" after we informed him we were unable to marry any of his daughters.

Lord Borros betrayed your mother the moment he entertained the idea of marrying one of his daughters to Prince Aemond, a violent young man with a dangerous appetite for revenge. The Lord is not worthy of our mother's forgiveness, which he will surely beg once threatened with being burned alive by the great dragon Vermithor, a dragon you had claimed the night after your tenth name day. The fool had chosen to aid in strengthening the claim of a drunken usurper puppet cunt.

You could feel your mind erupting into utter chaos as pieces of your sweet brother and his young dragon, Arrax.

Your ears were ringing, echoing the strangled scream your brother had led out before Vhagar eat him. The cry of pain and surprise Arrax let out before his life, too, was ended much too soon.

Eyes suddenly wide with fury, your head turns to look at your uncle and his war-dragon. Vhagar was a large beast, the largest dragon alive and the dragon from the times of Old Valyria. The Mother of Dragons is usually an intimidating creature that had always struck fear within you but now all you felt was rage.

If the Gods of Old Valyria still favored you like Prince Daemon had faithfully claimed, then perhaps Vermithor and you could fight and win against the other pair flying in the sky.

Perhaps, the Bronze Fury would help you in your search for retribution.

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moonflowerbread · 1 year

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calamitous

ca•lam•i•tous

/kəˈlamədəs/

adjective

involving calamity; catastrophic or disastrous.

"You can taste the satisfying, chaotic, calamitous losses and defeats the near future holds for the House of the Dragon."

fandom(s) : HotD/DotD (asoiaf)

genre(s) : fantasy, romance, drama

pairing(s) : Prince Aemond Targaryen × Baratheon! Reader (Fem) - Slight/Implied

rating : 16+ recommend

warning(s) : reader is a kinda crazy?, mentions of disfigurement (Aemond losing his eye), OC! Reader (if that makes any sense),

plot : Prince Aemond Targaryen goes to Storm's End in order to gain the loyalty of Lord Borros Baratheon. In order to do so, Prince Aemond must choose between five sisters to marry.

A/N : this is basically just an Aemond × OC story but with the use of you/your :D, this is also my first story to be shared publicly so I do hope you enjoy!

(I do NOT give permission to edit this story, in ANY way)

(gif(s) used above does NOT belong to me and I do NOT claim any rights to it)

Just hours ago, your father had forewarned you and your sisters of the stately Targaryen Prince that stood before you all now.

Throughout your childhood, you had been told many stories of House Targaryen and the questionable sanity of its family members. Apparently, or so Cassandra has claimed, a hatred had been seeded between the family after King Viserys named his eldest child, the comley Princess Rhaenyra his heir.

It's said that the hostility between family members only grew stronger after a lamentable event occurred that lead to the loss of Prince Aemond Targaryen's left eye at the hands of his younger nephew, Prince Lucerys Velaryon.

It was wrong, but after learning of what happened to the Prince all those years ago, when you were only a child, you began wondering what it was like. How you wished to experience what it felt like to take the eye of another person, to permanently maim another person.

You were immediately aware how distasteful your unusual appetite for all things dark and gruesome. No child of nine should be daydreaming of the odious murders and torture of others when breaking one's fast, or taking a bath, or when laying awake instead of trying to fall asleep.

You knew all this, but eventually the thoughts of harming others consummed you entirely. You were no longer a curious child who had heard one too many stories of morbid things before bedtime, you had become a young beast whose mind constantly thought of fantasy images of all things brutal.

"Sister," Your sweet younger sister Floris whispers out to your youngest sister, Ellyn.

In physical appearance and personality, you and your sisters are very different.

Your four sisters, two older and two younger, were nicknamed the Four Storms because of their constant and merciless bickering, while you usually stood silently to the side, unamused.

Each of your sisters shared the same untamed dark hair and remarkable blue eyes of your father. You, however, had the dark eyes and strawberry-blonde hair of your adored mother.

Floris, who is five-and-ten, is widely regared as the prettiest daughter of Lord Borros Baratheon and Lady Elenda Caron due to her thick eyelashes, plump lips, and naturally curvy body. You have been envious of Floris since your shared youth, with you being only eleven moons older than her, before you could even understand what the word even meant.

This, alone, is why you strongly suspect Prince Aemond will choose your sweet younger sister as his bride tonight.

If you am correct in my prediction, Maris will surely be upset. Maris, who is only a year older than you, had been yearning to be in a place of high power since her childhood. Always wanting to use her intelligence to become powerfully and wealthy. So, becoming the wife of a Prince, like the stoic young man listening to our father's ramblings, is just what she needs to achieve these life-long goals.

Everything was going smoothly, with the white haired Prince staring expectantly at each of you, his impressive sword proudly poking out from behind his black leather cloak.

A hand came to rest on your stomach in an attempt to pacify the uncomfortable nerves shooting through your body as the Prince's intimidating purple eye began to gaze upon you silently.

The intensity of his stare felt like a challenge to you, purple and black clashing together in a silent demand to keep eye contact.

The tranquility inside the icy interior of Storm's End was interrupted by the fortuitous arrival of the timid Prince Lucerys.

A pup of a man, your father's voice mocks in your head.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon," A voice introduced the young boy.

Prince Aemond turned away from you, something dangerous glinting in his beautiful eye as he looked at his newly arrived nephew.

"Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen." The man finished, thunder sounding off somewhere in the distance.

Involuntarily, your eyes narrow at the dark haired Prince, immediately understanding why the bastard has made an appearance. No doubt acting as a loyal messenger for his mother, trying to remind who swore themselves to the late King Viserys' eldest born.

"Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother," The pup finally speaks up, his jaw clenching slightly, "The Queen."

You can feel laughter bubbling in your throat at his impressively brave, but stupid words. You have no personal quarrel with Princess Rhaenyra and would love nothing more than to finally see a woman rule, to see a Queen sit the Iron Throne. But, you are no fool. You ade aware, thanks to your father's enjoyment of hearing himself speak, what is likely to become of the kingdom if a woman was to rule.

"Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it?" Your father jokes, his hands wrapping impatiently around the arms of his seat, "King or Queen?"

A titter spills from your throat, the same suppressed laugh that had been waiting to be released.

Prince Aemond turns his head to stare at you once again, a tight smirk playing on his lips as words begin flying out of your mouth in a sneer as you look up to my father, "The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it."

You have nothing against Prince Lucerys or anyone else from the noble House Targaryen, but your eyes still desperately search my father's face. The strong desire to please your father has blurred right and wrong since you were a toddler.

Your heart lifts in your chest as your father, and your two oldest sisters, crease up at your deride towards the younger Prince.

When you finally look away from your father, you notice the intense but welcoming stare from Prince Aemond.

For just a moment, you feared maybe he disliked you now, but then you quickly remember his feelings for you are worth nothing as he will not choose you to wed.

"What's your mothers message?" The demanding voice of your father pulls you from your distraction.

Prince Lucerys reaches inside his red cloak, successfully pulling out a tightly rolled letter from within.

Your throat dries in anticipation, dark eyes glancing to the tall Prince standing slightly in front of you for just a moment before watching the important letter be handed off to your father.

He holds the unopened paper before raising his voice in annoyance, "Where's the bloody maester?"

Your eyes fall onto one of the people standing neatly in the distance. A pressure begins to form in the middle of your eyebrows as his eyes meet yours for a second, sensing your stare before scurrying to your father, the satisfying panicked tapping of his poorly polished shoes echoing his embarrassment throughout the tenebrous castle.

Now tired of waiting to learn the contents within the letter delivered by Prince Lucerys, you look to your sweet sister Floris who stands silently to your right, symbolizing to Prince Aemond that you are older than she is.

She playfully raised her eyebrows at tou once your eyes meet, her blue eyes glancing to the boy pup and to you again.

You eyes roll at her silent question, her smile is interrupted by your father's sudden outburst. His anger was visible in the way his pupils expand to devour almost all the blue of his iris'.

"King Aegon at least came with an offer; my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids, which one of my daughters will you wed," He glances over to you and your sisters for a moment, "Boy."

You can almost taste the panic swell inside the young Prince, his chin raising slightly in an attempt to calm his nerves before responding.

"My lord, I am not free to marry. I am already betrothed."

Your father lets out a deep sigh, "So, you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

Your eyes dart from your father to the younger Prince who stands silently, trying desperately to stay brave in the face of such harsh rejection.

After taking in a small breath to steady himself, Prince Lucerys claims, "I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord." His brown eyes narrowing slightly at his soundless uncle.

The One-Eyed Prince smirks humorlessly at his pug-nosed nephew, his sharp jaw clenching in clear annoyance.

Your eyes close shut as the bastard Prince begins to leave, the tightness enveloped around your chest slowly leaving, much to your distaste.

"Wait," Prince Aemons demands, his voice alone stopping his family member from leaving and forcing your eyes to open again, "My Lord Strong."

A satisfied smile spreads on your face, deep dimples forming effortlessly at the domineering jest.

You watch the young Prince quietly as he turns to face his uncle.

"Did you really think that you could fly about the realm trying to my brother's throne at no cost?" The Prince of Old Valyria colours speaks again, his polished black shoes slowly tapping the hard floor.

Quickly, Prince Lucerys says, "I will not fight you."

How unfortunate, you think as your eyes narrow at the boy just barely younger than yourself.

"I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

Your head tilts to one side, making some of your hair fall from it's near place tucked behind your ear as you let a scoff escape into the air, "Prince Lucerys, forgive me but, you do not actually believe yourself fit to fight, do you?"

The secondborn son of Princess Rhaenyra looks at you, his dark eyebrows creased in worry at your comment, likely detecting your threatening tone.

Feeling the stare of the first Prince to arrive in Storm's End, you look at him, expecting to be greeted with an unwelcome glare but, instead, you are being smiled at.

A few silent seconds pass as he continues to stare at you silently before turning his head back to his eldest sister's bastard.

"I want you to put out your eye," The Targaryen Prince begins, his fingers taking ahold of the black patch covering his left eye to removing it, revealing a beautiful sapphire which has replaced the eye he lost so many years ago, "As payment for mine. One will serve; I do not wish to blind you."

You let out a quiet breath from between the small opening between your lips when Prince Aemond pulls a small dagger from his waist, only to throw it to the ground and towards his nephew.

Your hand comes to your mouth, your teeth taking the nail of my thumb between them as excitement squeezes at your heart.

"I plan to make a gift of it to my wife," Prince Aemond declares, his purple eye fixating on you for only a second.

Your head lowers slightly in thought, wondering if you had merely imagined Prince Aemond's eye on you.

"No." Was Prince Lucerys' simple answer.

Prince Aemond's long white hair fluttered lightly with the wind flowing in the great castle as he spoke, his chin raised high, "Than you are craven, as well as a traitor."

"Not here." Your father attempts to intervene the brewing argument.

Suddenly, without warning, Prince Aemond advanced forward, easily picking up the dagger he had thrown earlier, his voice much more manic from just seconds ago, "Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!"

Prince Lucerys took his sword out of its sheath, taking multiple steps back as fear contorts his face.

"Not in my hall !" Your father yells out, standing up from his seat made of stone as his eyes look between the two young Princes.

Prince Aemond stops his aggressive approach, the dagger tight in his hands as his eyes continue to stare holes into the bastard Prince.

"The boy came as an envoy." He reminds the roomful of people, but mostly Prince Aemons whose chest heaves, "I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof."

You look to your father's tense frame, eyes narrowing at him, disappointed in the sudden halt of action between the two feuding Princes.

"Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon."

When nobody dares to move, scared to disturb the calmness washing over, almost, everyone now that the fight has been stopped before it could get any more dangerous.

"Now." He demands coldly.

And so, the guards do as they are told.

As the knights escort the young Prince through the great doors of Storm's End, you watch the back of Prince Lucerys' head carefully, thinking fondly of the sudden flavor of death melting on your sharp tongue.

You can taste the satisfying, chaotic, calamitous losses and defeats the near future holds for the House of the Dragon.

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