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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

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✩ Bastard Queen Masterlist ✩ Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader ✩

✩Summary ✩ In order to bring your families together your sister and mother propose you marry the future king, the man you’d been taught to hate. The both of you struggle to make the marriage work, while dealing with your decaying family. ✩

✩General PSA ✩ This is HOTD therefore there will be incest, though it will be a topic later and the main pairing is incest in my book it’s up for debate, however side ships etc. will be. Outside of HOTD I will not write this! But it’s literally canon so not much I can do about that 😭 Also most, except for in the very end with two of the side relationships are pretty ambiguous so if you don’t like them… simply pretend the don’t exist! ALSO ALSO, it will become more clear as the story goes on but the reader can look like literally anything and I tried to make that quite clear! Also Aegon is not a rapist in this… just a shitty husband to Helaena.✩

✩General Warnings ✩ Incest, Implied sexual assault, and mentions of past sexual assaults (chaps will have individual warnings!), cursing, Murder, Childbirth, Smut. ✩

✩Main Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Sequel 'The Daring' ✩

✩Chapter One ✩ The Fool ✩ Dinner is a nightmare but you try to salvage it despite hating your sister. For a moment though, you see her, and that moment is enough to change your life as the fate of Westeros hangs in the balance. It’s up to you, your duty, and your sacrifice to make this right. ✩

✩Chapter Two ✩ Traitor Tongue ✩ Sitting outside your mother's door is another obstacle, Criston Cole. This one will not be solved with words of wisdom, instead, it may end in bloodshed. Even after you're left with challenges, and this one will be life-long.✩

✩Chapter Three ✩ Funeral Pyre ✩ It’s to be a busy day. The first step in the Funeral. Your father is to be burned, ashes in the wind, by your sister’s dragon. To make a hard day worse, you’re constantly put with your betrothed, to show the peace. ✩

✩Chapter Four ✩ The First Queen ✩ The busy day continues. Moving from death to celebration so quickly is not easy, and again you find yourself picking up pieces. Lucky for you as the day gets later you get to see blood be spilt. ✩

✩Chapter Five ✩ Wise and Strong ✩ Wedding plans get…intense. Your mother and sister are constantly clashing and coming together, it seems you and Jacaerys are doing much the same. Trying to balance everything on the plate is hard, but you’re thankful for the opportunity your sister presents, being the wise to his strong. ✩

✩Chapter Six ✩ The Seamstress ✩ As one wedding is annulled another is being planned. Your mother takes great joy in tormenting you as your poked and prodded by the seamstress. To make matters worse as return to the keep you’re greet with guests for your looming wedding, and all that that entails. ✩

✩ Chapter Seven ✩ Only Fair ✩ It’s the day of the wedding. The morning preparation is more fun than you thought, but as the ceremony approaches your time is ticking. ✩

✩ Chapter Eight ✩ Old and New Gods ✩ The day where you sign your life away in fire and blood has come. The day of the wedding has arrived. A day that started off so strong turning so bitter as you’re forced to live under both the Old and the New Gods. ✩

✩ Chapter Nine ✩ To Bed, or Not to Bed ✩ A wardrobe change brings the turning of a new portion of the night. The feast is more fun than expected as you dance with your husband into the night. It’s all ruined when you’re dragged to bedroom. ✩

✩ Chapter Ten ✩ Successful Charade ✩ Life becomes more peaceful after your marriage. The peace, the boredom, makes your skin itch. Despite the unsatisfied humming of your skin, you could almost call your life enjoyable. ✩

✩ Chapter Eleven ✩ An Itch ✩ The last few weeks have been disgustingly boring, your skin itching as you sit and desire more. It’s only when you finally run into a free Jacaerys that your skin feels like a salve has been placed upon it. ✩

✩ Chapter Twelve ✩ Hypocrite ✩ Your mother calls you to her room, later in the day than you’d like. Already annoyed you walk in to find your mother already pressing your buttons. As the argument continues your mother lets the truth slip from her lips.

✩ Chapter Thirteen ✩ Lose Yourself ✩ Only one person knows where you go when you panic. Your siblings panic and your mother is a mess. It’s only your husband who knows where to go to find you.

✩Chapter Fourteen ✩ A Son✩ Helaena pulls you out of your stupor taking you to a place you wouldn’t expect. It gives you inspiration for your next moves, but as you leave your plans for the day take a sharp turn when you stumble on a little boy who looks so much like someone you know. ✩

✩ Chapter Fifteen ✩ Adventures of the Heart ✩ Leaving Gaemon you run into Jace who is quick to call you out on the avoidance. Avoiding confrontation you give in to his request. It turns out to be more fun than expected. As the sky gets darker you give in more and more to the gnawing want in your stomach.✩

✩ Chapter Sixteen ✩ Mother’s Love ✩ Nothing burns more than the sting of loneliness. It’s something you see in the mirror, and the person who stares back is your mother. You give up pride and crawl back into your mother’s arms and find comfort. In tradition, you take care of her as well.✩

✩ Chapter Seventeen ✩ Just Go ✩ You find your sister, the Queen, and plead your mother’s case. The person that has the most to say surprises you. ✩

✩ Chapter Eighteen ✩ Your Boys ✩ Good riddance to Larys Strong. Following the execution you spend time with your brother, scratch that, your brothers.

✩ Chapter Nineteen ✩ The Birthing Bed ✩ The Queen’s birth starts long before it was supposed to. Her husband won’t sit by her side, so you take the role. The birth is difficult, and after is even worse. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty ✩ A New Dragon ✩ Your sister and you are closer then ever before. The kids, your reason for doing what you do, bring you to the Dragon Pit. It’s there the contents of your stomach tell you something you did not want to hear. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty-One ✩ Our Baby ✩ Rhaenyra sends your mother your way. She’s the only one able to bring you from your spiral. She’s also the one to insist you tell your husband about your…circumstances. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty Two ✩ Budding Flowers ✩ You and Jace need to talk. Need to talk about what comes next and what happened in the last. Alongside that your family needs to know the news from you before someone else tells them. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty- Three ✩ Not Ideal ✩ The Realm’s Reaction isn’t exactly ideal. The solution the counsel provides isn’t exactly that you desire either. Despite that, you’ll do what it takes to protect the baby. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty-Four ✩ Pools Of Blood ✩ You’re locked away in a room, just as instructed. You try to stay entertained, your friend by your side. It’s only when someone you thought you could trust betrays you that it all falls apart.✩

✩ Chapter Twenty-Five ✩ Eternity ✩ Is it revenge or justice? Either way you don’t care. All you care is that they die, it doesn’t matter as long as they are punished. After that, after that you can fall apart, your husband finally back by your side. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty- Six ✩ Warm Embrace ✩ Only one man left, for now, before your revenge is done. Though is revenge ever truly over? With that, you make amends, to a man unsuspecting. As it turns out, losing a friend, fighting off an assassin, and being pregnant is exhausting. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty-Seven ✩ Burying More Than Just a Body ✩ You say goodbye to a friend, but manage to make another. It’s for Lillith and this sweet girl that you fight against another ignorant man. In truth the funeral is more than just burying a body. ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty-Eight ✩ Thank the Mother ✩ Even over nine months pregnant there’s things to be done. The world doesn’t stop just because you look like you ate a globe. You, however, didn’t expect for your birth to start in the Queen’s Bed ✩

✩ Chapter Twenty-Nine ✩ Sixteen Years ✩ It's sixteen years, well just short of, since Lillibet was born. Life has changed, people get older and life fades from those you love. It's an undeniable fact, but you can't let yourself mourn the living. You soak up every minute you can with your family. ✩

✩ Chapter Thirty ✩ Epilogue ✩

Completed

✩ Sequel set in between Chapter Twenty Eight and Twenty Nine ✩ ✩ The Daring ✩

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

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✩Let's Play a Love Game✩ Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩

✩Summary✩ Working for? Working with? Friends? Classmates? You aren't ever sure where you fit in with Aemond Targaryen, or his family. You clean their house, but you spend your days rotting in the library with Aemond, your phone blowing up with texts from Aegon and Helaena. Your therapist would tell you your work life balance is terrible. You can't bring yourself to change it, especially not when your life seems to become more and more intertwined with his.✩

✩General Warnings✩ Cursing, Smut, Class differences, More Warnings Per Individual Chapter✩

✩ General Masterlist ✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Pinterest Board ✩

✩ Masterlist✩

✩ Chapter One ✩ Title? ✩

✩ Taglist ✩ Open ✩

@happinessinthebeing

@mel9630

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

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✩Not Yet ✩ Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader ✩

✩Summary ✩ Your mother has sent you to the Red Keep to find a husband. She hoped the Targaryen Princes could contain their depravity… they can’t, at least Aegon can’t. You follow Aemond to chase after his brother, leading you to a brothel. In a similar philosophy to your mother, life is too short not to have fun when given the chance. ✩

✩Warnings ✩ Incest (duh), Uh sex, Brothels, use of Whore, voyeurism, Choking, Fingering, Loss of Virginity, Blood ✩

✩General ✩ Aegon obvs isn’t married to Helaena in this, also isn’t a rapist because canon is fake to me. Yes reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter, but like take that with a grain of salt. If you’re imagining yourself don’t let that stop you, there’s like no plot so she could’ve picked you up off the ground of the Keep and said ‘I’m keeping this one,’ like idgaf. Also did I mean to imply she was gonna fuck Aegon? That’s unknown. ✩

✩Main Masterlist ✩ Part Two ✩ Word Count 5.6k ✩

“Your pick of the litter my mother said,” you mocked, following the pale haired man further into the city.

He just grunted in response, so you continued trying to illicit a response, “They’re Princes of the Realms, I’m sure they will be able to contain their depravity for a single moon cycle, she insisted.”

The man infront of you continued to ignore your going on, pulling his cloak further over his recognizable hair, “But here I am, Princess of Dragonstone, sullying my reputation in Flea Bottom,” you sighed, “All because of the Princes.”

Aemond huffed, “Must I remind you of the fact, that you followed me,” he finally responded.

You grinned at his giving in, “It is not my fault the Red Keep is dreadfully boring. Perhaps Aegon has the right idea, running off to find some fun.”

Aemond turned to you, his one eye sharp, “You just called it depravity, and now you’re praising the fool?”

“I did not call it depravity, my mother did,” you reminded, “And I didn’t praise him. I simply said maybe he has the right idea, running away from the prying eyes of the Hightower’s, especially Otto.”

“My Grandfather does not pry. He’s the hand of the King, it’s his job to know what’s going on,” he insisted, shoving past a group of people.

You apologized to them softly, picking up your steps to follow the Prince, “Your Grandfather is a power hungry cunt,” you said simply.

Again, Aemond turned to you, eye wide and full of anger, “Someone must uphold duty. Your mother ran off, despite being heir to the throne. At least Aegon stays in the Keep and pretends to care.”

“We’re scouring the city for the idiot, so he does not stay in the Keep, Aemond,” your voice became pointed, “My mother is, and will remain heir, your brother would be a puppet on the throne,” you spit, and Aemond couldn’t disagree as he continued to walk, “And let me remind you just who drove my mother from her home. A snake as green as the grass below us, your mother, Alicent fucking Hightower.”

At the mention of his mother the Prince stiffened, and turned to glare at you again, “Your mother paraded herself around, paraded you and your brothers around, like it was nothing,” your eyes tightened at the mention of your brothers, “My mother was the only one brave enough to say a word of it, of her depravity,’ he threw the word back in your face.

“Don’t forget you were brave enough too my Prince,” you rebutted, smile crawling up your face, “If I remember correctly, the insult contributed to your loss of eye?”

He sneered, and hands moved forward, as if thinking about hitting you. You grinned as he retracted them and turned around, stalking forward.

“Your brother didn’t even know what the word meant,” he said, as if to insult his intelligence, fire burned in your belly at the insult to Luke, but Aemond’s next words were quieter, “I didn’t either.”

Guilt flooded your system, for blaming a little boy for his own permanent disfigurement. In truth, you hadn’t even been there. Your brothers and soon to be step-sisters hadn’t thought it necessary to disrupt your sleep. Much like Princess Helaena, you’d just been dragged to the hall to witness the events that followed. You had no idea what really occurred that night.

“It was an unfortunate accident,” you tried, though he didn’t seem to like the response, you sighed, “Aemond,” you called, and when he didn’t respond you grabbed at his cloak.

He turned back, face pursed into a pout, “You were all children. The loss of the eye was not some payment for an insult.”

His gaze changed, it became calculating, as if searching for your motives for saying something even relatively kind. He didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. All he did was click his tongue, and continue forward. You rolled your eyes but followed behind him either way.

After a few more minutes of being dragged through Flea Bottom you grew restless, “Do you even know where your brother frequents?”

“He frequents everywhere, but lately it’s one just a little farther,” he provided.

“And why must you go fetch him and not Erryk or Arryk?”

“Mother prefers I find him and get him back to the Keep before anyone hears of it,” he replied simply.

“Would it not be easier to stop him from going?”

He shook his head, exasperated, “It cannot be done, we’ve all tried.”

His earlier words rang true when he stormed into a brothel just a few doors down. Well, he didn’t quite storm, more so stalked in, going relatively unnoticed by those around you. You tried to keep the pace behind him, but the smell of sweat and sex, as well as the sounds of it all, had you almost stopping in your tracks.

All around you, in the dark rooms of the brothel people were having sex. Men were bare infront of you and you tried not to stare at them, them or the women. You’d only seen your brother's figures in moments of passing, and the sight had made you want to vomit, rather than the warm feeling crawling into your stomach now. The women were no different, you’d seen your own breasts, and your mother’s when she fed her children, but the sight of women writhing in pleasure made the place between your legs pulse. You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but got little to no relief from the action.

You stood staring around the room, eyes traveling from group to group rapidly. Men fucking men, women and women, multiple partners together, all of it was so foreign to you. The salty smell of sex had you curling your nose into itself. The room was hot and you suddenly wanted to strip your cloak. All of it was too much to process.

It seemed Aemond had realized your staring, and circled back to you, voice quiet and teasing, “See something you like, Princess?”

The title felt dirty coming from him mouth, you shoved him forward, ignore the goosebumps on your skin, “Sorry. I’ve never been in a brothel,” you offered in response.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, leaning back into you, you stumbled back a little, leaning on the wall, it was cold, bringing you out of the hot room, at least a little, “That’s not what I asked.”

You shook your head, avoiding his eye, “I don’t know,” was your only response to his original question.

He smiled, a vicious grin, “The Princess has lost all her bite. Why? Because of some people fucking?” He teased, breath splaying out against your skin.

“I haven’t lost anything, Uncle,” you tried to sound confident, but as the woman next to you made sounds you’d never heard someone make, you felt yourself go hot and your eyes go wide.

Aemond, for his part just laughed, “Have you never seen two people fuck Princess?”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course I haven’t.”

He seemed intrigued by that, “Never made your way down to the brothels on Dragonstone, or walked in on the act even?”

You looked at him oddly, as if the question was absurd, and it felt it, “No. You do remember that I live with my brothers and mother right? It’s not as if I’d stick around to see that anyway,” you gagged at the idea of walking in on any of them having sex.

He huffed a laugh, “I suppose living with Aegon has left me corrupted.”

You hummed your agreeance, now desperate to change the subject, “Shouldn’t we be looking for him?”

Aemond just laughed, eyes filled with glee as well, “He’s over there fucking some whore,” he titled his head to the left.

You drew your eyes away from the man to see where he’d pointed to. Then, you caught your eyes on the stark white hair of the Targaryen prince. He had a woman on his lap, rocking against him. Her head was thrown back and her mouth was open. Aegon was attached to her breasts, face not visible.

You lost yourself in the sight. Your mouth started to become dry, or perhaps you were salivating too much. Your skin felt hot, and your clothes now felt too tight. No matter how hard you squeezed your legs, you felt no relief from the burning sensation between them. You, for a moment, had forgotten that the other Targaryen Prince stood infront of you. He seemed amused that you were so disheveled by the sight of his brother, a sight that he clearly saw so often.

“Perhaps I should ask again?” He purred, leaning in closer, “Do you like what you see?”

You didn’t know how to answer, senses numbed and mind fuzzy, you just opened and closed your mouth a few times, like a fish. Aemond chuckled, invading your space. His nose touched your collar bone and you shivered. He pulled away, and you wanted to bring him back to you.

You listened to that want, pushing the cloak from his hair, and grabbing it, making him look at you.

He grinned wildly, “What do you want?” You scowled in annoyance, “You have to say it,” he prompted.

You scoffed, but pulled his face to you, and you moved so your lips grazed his ear, “I want you to fuck me, my Prince,” at his wide eye, you continued, “I may have not have seen the act done, but don’t think me naive Uncle, I know the pleaures it’s supposed to bring,” you jutted your jaw out to try and seem confident, “So show me. Fuck me.”

Aemond groaned, hands finally finding you, “All you had to do was ask.”

He made quick work of the laces on your dress, fingers working behind you as you arched your back to give him access. His lips were on your neck in an instant, sucking and biting the previously untouched skin. You didn’t know what to do, your hands felt useless as you heaved, trying to calm yourself. On instinct your hands found his hair and tugged. He seemed to enjoy it, if his teeth sinking into you was any proof.

Soon enough, the laces of your dress were completely undone, and he was yanking the dress below your breasts. You gasped as the air hit you, eyes flying around the room in a sense of dread that you’d be recognized. No one seemed to be looking, all entranced by their own escapades. Briefly your eyes fell on Aegon again, but he too, was pre-occupied. Aemond didn’t seem to have the same qualms, his mouth moving down your chest.

“So beautiful,” he whispered into your skin.

The compliment had your skin burning, but this wasn’t an emotional moment, this was a means to an end, and he was a tool to make this burning sensation leave, “Shut up,” you groaned, he grinned, his mouth then finding one of your nipples.

At the sensation of his tongue on the delicate skin, you gasped, hands digging further into his hair. His tongue left the skin, leaving cold goosebumps in it’s wake. He nipped at your skin, and looked up to you from your chest.

You, for your part, already felt out of breath, “What are you doing?”

He pulled one of his eyebrows up, “What do you mean Princess?”

You huffed, squirming under his stare, “I dont know how to do this,” you admitted, “What comes next?”

He hummed, “You mean to say you haven't done this before?” He teased.

“A woman is not allowed to flout about the same way a man is Aemond,” you reminded.

He grinned wolfishly, raising the bottom of your dress up slowly, “Your mother didn't seem to have any issue.”

Usually, you would argue, but at the feeling of Aemond’s hand hovering over your underwear, all you could manage was, “I am not my mother,” you said weakly.

He looked up at you with a question in his eye, and you just nodded your head once, and your underwear was being slipped off your legs. His fingers were tracing the wetness your body had created at his previous actions. He didnt do much but rub his fingers across you, but the action had you squirming under him.

He was grinning like a cat, his eye blown wide, pupil dilated, “I’m not sure of that,” he whispered, lips finding your neck again, “Your mother was rumored to fuck her Uncle in a brothel too. Well before they were married might I add.”

“Enough talking about my mother,” you whined as his fingers finally did something.

One of his fingers rubbed against a spot you’d previously explored, but his touch felt much better. You reached your hand to his wrist. He kept at it, rubbing in circles as you gasped against him.

He pulled away from you neck, and grinned as you moaned, your head hitting the wall, “Do you like that?”

“Fuck yourself,” you tried, though you just whined against him.

He laughed, “I think you would rather have me fuck you,” you huffed in annoyance, but you didn’t argue.

After a moment, he slipped his fingers into you. You moaned, throwing your head back at the intrusion. He chuckled below you, continuing to dig his fingers into you, curling them slightly while you squeezed around them, gasping for air.

He grunted, “You’ve got to loosen up. Can’t fucking move when you’re so tense.”

You tried to relax, but it was hard when Aemond had two fingers inside you, “Sorry,” you whimpered out.

He raised his head up from the sight of his fingers soaking themselves inside you, and looked to your face, “No sorries,” he inched his fingers in some more, pulling out and pushing in again, slow and easy, “It’s okay,” he promised, leaving messy kisses up your neck and jaw.

At his soft reassurances and the feeling of his mouth on you, you relaxed some, letting his fingers move in and out at a faster pace. Like before, he was curling them, and you let out a squeal as he hit a certain spot inside you. He chuckled, pulling out and doing it again. He went slowly, but the pace was consistent and had you whimpering and bringing your head into the crook of his neck.

You bit into the clothed skin as he brought his fingers back to your clit. He rubbed in circles with his thumb as he continued to pump his fingers into you. Without the consent of your brain, you started to rock you hips to match his pace, desperaley searching the high that this promised.

Aemond took one of your legs and propped it up with his arm, and you just let him, bringing your head from out of his neck. It gave him more access, letting him go deeper into you. He was breathing heavily, you were sure his hand ached, but you couldn't make yourself care. As he continued at a grueling pace you felt like something inside you was going to snap.

You pulled on his hair to make him look up from where you met, he seemed to always be drawn to it, “Aemond,” you cried.

He looked concerned, but did not stop pumping his fingers as you continued to buck your hips back, “Yes?”

You panted, “I feel odd,” was the only explanation you provided.

He just chuckled, “What does that mean?”

You just mumbled, unable to form any coherent thoughts anymore, not when all you felt was hot, scorching, pleasure. He seemd to come to a moment of realization as you squeezed his fingers again, and let our a high pitched wail. He continued moving, but released your clit, letting you come down slowly. You continue to let out constant whimpers as your vision blurred and your entire body seemd to clench together before it released, making you insanely relaxed and pliable in Aemond’s hold.

“ ‘S too much Aem,” the childhood nickname slipping from your lips now that your brain was fuzzy.

He pulled his fingers out, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. You felt so empty for a moment. Aemond just grinned. He let your leg back down, but held you up by your waist, your legs now felt like jelly under you.

You took a moment to catch your breath, and Aemond was grinning from ear to ear, but he also started to pull away. You grabbed his hand and pulled him back to you.

He looked at you curiously, “I said I wanted you to fuck me Aemond.”

For a moment he looked shocked, but he let his head sag, and chuckled under his breath before bringing his head back up to meet your eyes, “You’re sure?” He seemed nervous, something you didnt expect from the usual stone-cold Prince, “Everything we’ve done is one thing, but this, this you can’t take back.”

You smiled at the man infront of you, so much care for someone he allegedly hates, “My pious boy of the Seven,” you teased, he just rolled his eyes, “I’m sure Aemond.”

His eye seemd to light up at this, lips returning to your neck, leaving bite marks in his wake. You sighed, relaxing under the touch. You again laced your fingers through his hair, taking pleasure in running your fingers through the silk like material.

He started to untie the laces of his pants, and you grabbed his hands, he looked up to you confusion plastered on his face, “Take off your shirt.”

He rolled his eyes at the demand, but complied. He took his hands off your waist and you tried not to sink to the floor, legs shaking after your first orgasm. He unclasped the cloak that had originally kept his identity hidden, but all your worries about that had long since faded. Under, he only wore a loose white shirt. He took it over his head, leaving it to pool on the floor along side your underwear.

You drank in every inch of the skin. It was pale, paler than even the rest of him, and the muscles and skin rippled with his every move. There were small scars, from training, that nicked the skin, but it was relatively unmarred, relatively hairless and unblemished. He was lean, skin clinging to muscle rather than fat, revealing sharp hip bones that layed in a V pointing to his cock. White hair starting at his belly button led the way down.

He was smirking when you finally met his eyes, “Satisfied Princess?”

You grinned in return, “Very.”

“Good,” he hummed, “Your turn,” he said in response.

You looked at him relatively confused, your dress already laid under your breasts, marked by Aemond from collar bone down. Though, the dress was still on. You turned around, forcing him to untie the rest of the laces. He did so with ease, or rather was forceful about it, yanking them apart and pulling the dress down your body. His hands were on your hips in an instant, newly exposed skin all under his gaze. He groaned, grabbing at your ass. His hands remained on your lower half, as he started to bite at the junction below your ear.

You laid your head back onto his shoulder, “Please Aemond,” you begged, as his fingers made their way back between your folds.

“Please what?” He teased, fingers on your clit again, rubbing in small circles as you tried to buck into his fingers, feeling desperatley empty.

You groaned, “Fuck me,” you repeated for the millionth time tonight.

“Then turn around,” he instructed, you whined not wanting to move, he growled, grabbing your hips and spinning you around, you gasped, fingers splaying against the wall behind you, “I will not take you like some common whore,” was the explanation he provided.

He finally brought his hands to his pants again, shedding them from his body. His cock hit his stomach now that it wasn’t trapped by his pants. As you’d said, you’d never seen the male form, aside from your brothers, who in the presence of them naked, both parties would scream and cover body parts or eyes. Now though, your stomach was fluttering, and your mouth was watering. His cock was long and hard, you weren't quite sure what the average size was, but Aemond’s seemed large, you tried not to get hung up on the fact that it was going to be inside of you, and the semantics of that.

You unconsciously brought your hand to him. Your hand was tickled by the sparse white hairs that decorated the base of him. You wrapped your hand around him. His cock was long, but remained relatively thin in your hand. Aemond groaned, tucking himself into your neck again, seemingly his favorite place tonight. You brought your hand up once, squeezing experimentally, he whimpered, teeth digging into your skin.

You went to continue, but he stopped you, “Princess,” he grunted, “If you keep going I’m going to cum now and not be able to fuck you,” he provided through heavy breaths.

You nodded. Releasing him from your hold. He seemed to mourn the loss, a soft sigh leaving his lips. He brought his fingers into you one more time, and you mewled under the touch. He scissored the fingers and you squealed, for his part he just laughed. His fingers left as quickly as they came and you whimpered at the loss, but they were quickly replaced. He brought the head of his cock to your cunt, sliding through your folds and collecting the wetness as you choked on air. He placed himself just at the beginning of you.

He once again looked to you for permission, you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushed into you and you sniveled in pain, his cock stretching you out painfully. He grunted, and was clearly trying his best to take deep breaths. He inched in slowly and with each movement you tried not to cry out in pain.

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, “Gotta relax sweetheart.”

Tears started to slip from your face, and Aemond looked panicked, going to pull out of you, but you protested, “Just fucking kiss me or something,” you demanded, needing something to distract from the stretch.

He chuckled, leaning in to meet your lips. It was odd, that his cock was halfway in you, but you hadn't yet kissed. His lips were warm against yours, and you tried your best to keep up with the movement of his mouth. In truth, you’d never kissed anyone either, unless you counted the maid’s daughter all those years ago. He did most of the work, tongue moving across the slit of your lips. You allowed him entry and his tongue searched yours, as if he was drinking in the taste of you.

His hips were still moving closer to yours, cock coming further and farther into you. You were relaxing into the touch, now that you had something to distract you. He brought his hand to your clit again, soft strokes making you relax completley. He pushed all the way into you, hips meeting one another finally. He broke the kiss, heaving into your shoulder. He continued to move against your clit, allowing you to find pleasure while you adjusted to the full feeling. The pain had faded away and you were squirming against him.

“Aemond,” you called, and he met your eyes, yet one of his was covered.

You paused for a moment, pushing your next words away to grab his face. His one eyes narrowed slightly in a question, “I want to see all of you,” you said quietly, now scared of his response.

“I’m already naked, sweetheart,” it was a statemnt, but it was lilted like a question.

You shook your head, bringing your fingers along the eyepatch, his whole body tensed around you, grip on your hips tightening, “All of you.”

He seemed nervous rather than mad, “It’s not a pretty sight,” he provided, but sighed, “But you may do as you wish Princess.”

You pulled the eyepatch from the skin, it left a red line indented into the skin in it’s wake. You rubbed the raw skin, trying to provide comfort. His one remaining eye was close. You took the opportunity to run your finger down the red and ripped scar your brother had caused. It healed well, but no wound like this would ever truly be gone, and not when an eye was stolen. As you ran across his eyelid, you realized it wasnt an empty socket. He had not yet bared all of himself to you.

“Open your eyes Aem,” he grunted, as if refusing. It was an oddly intimate moment to be having while his cock was shoved inside you, “Aemond,” you called, “I’m still here. I still want you.”

He took a shuddering breath, opening both lids. Your eyes did not focus on the violet eye you were used to seeing, but instead were fixed on the sapphire that sat in his socket. You took a breath, and moved your hand back up to trace the eyelid. Under you he was shaking, whether it was emotion or pleasure you didn't question.

You removed your hands from his face, and moved your lips just above his lips again, “You’re wrong,” you teased quietly, “You’re so pretty Aemond,” his eyes widened, his pupil dilating, overtaking the violet almost completely, “Move,” you commanded.

It seemed a switch had been flipped at these words. He brought one hand up to your clit again, rubbing in circles. With your permission he slid in and out of you, the pace still slow, each movement making you gasp and shudder under his gaze. Both eyes, real and artificial, were trained on you, soaking in every noise or movement.

The pain was edging away and you felt more and more pleasure as he pumped into you. You hopped a little, and attempted to wrap your legs around his waist. He huffed a laugh, and grabbed your thigh with his free hand, supporting your endevaor. The new angle had you breathless. It allowed him to go deeper inside of you, and as you gasped and squeezed around him, he had a similar reaction, growling deep in his throat.

The slow pace was now painful, teasing another release, one you’d never get to if he kept going so slow, “Aemond,” at the call of his name he met your eyes again, “Go faster.”

He grinned, listening, his hips snapping against you at a bruising pace, “So many demands Princess.”

You wanted to make a rebuttal, but at the combination of his cock burying itself into you over and over, and his fingers on your clit, you could only call out his name. At your noises, it seemd people’s eyes were wandering, falling towards the two Targaryens in the room. Aemond didn't seem to mind, continuing to rut into you, and you couldn't help but tip your head back and shout out.

You managed to gain some control, noticing quite a few pairs of eyes watching you and Aemond. It made your skin hot and your cunt squeeze. Aemond laughed above you, voice finding your ear, “You like people watching you,” you were at a loss for words, feeling ashamed all the sudden, “The way your cunt’s tightening says yes, Princess,” he teased, you just whined, nails digging into his back as a form of payback, though he didn't seem to mind. You hooked your nails into Aemond, every thust making blood drip from his back.

It was as your mind was hazy, pleasure only seconds away, that you met the eyes of the other Targaryen brother in the brothel, Aegon. He was watching you both, a lopsided grin on his face as he continued to fuck a different whore than the first one you’d seen him with. You gasped a little, at his hungry gaze, enough to garner Aemond’s attention. His eye seemed to follow your gaze and he cursed under his breath.

He pushed you back from hanging over his shoulders. You were now back against the wall, back straight against the cool rocks. Aemond had a look in his eye that made you shiver, but brought a new wave of excitement as he continued to fuck into you, faster than before as your body tried to keep up, meeting his pace with every buck of your hips.

His hand, the one not on your clit, he brought that one to your throat. You gasped at the feeling, and he grinned. You were looking at him with wide eyes as he constricted his hand, making you feel dizzy.

“Keep your eyes on me Princess,” he demanded, and you tried not to close them, keeping them open as your release creeped up, and your airflow was restricted.

You understood now. You weren’t going to cum looking at Aegon, only him, only Aemond. He released his grip on your throat after a minute, making your head spin as oxygen flooded back into your lungs, but as he pulled away, you whined. He grinned, returning his hand to your throat, just resting it there.

“You liked that?” He grinned.

You nodded your head lazily, strings of curse falling from your lips as you felt a now familiar sense of pleasure taking over your body. Aemond cursed as well, as your orgasm made you squeeze around him, legs wrapping him closer to you. Alongside the curses, were a mix of both your names whispered between each other.

As you started to come down, white hotness falling away, you whimpered everytime Aemond slid into you, the stimulation too much. You could feel him start to shake under you, and you lifted his chin, making him look at you. One violet eyes, and one sapphire stared into you as Aemond pulled out of you, cumming on the floor of the brothel. His breaths were rapid, matching yours.

He helped you lower your legs, offering his wrist as support for you to stand. Before anything, he pulled his pants back on, and you smiled at him and the modesty he was now showing. He rolled his eyes, bending over to pick up your dress. He held it open, and you stepped into it. This time, he helped you lace it back on rather than off.

Behind you, he laughed, mouth now leaving open mouth kisses on your neck, “I’m afraid the dress doesn't hide these,” he was referring to the many blossoming bruises and bite marks he’d left behind.

You grinned, and as he put the white shirt back on and blood from his back stained it red you realized you’d left your own mark, “It seems your shirt doesn't hide much either.

He just shook his head, slipping the cloak back over his shoulders. He didnt bother covering his hair, people had already seen you two, there was no use in doing so now. You did the same, just throwing it over your shoulders. When you looked to find Aegon again, he was no longer there. The girl he’d been with though, was laying there, heaving, seemingly coming down from her own high. A spark of worry shot through you, now worried you’d have to further chase Aegon through the city on jelly legs, but Aemond didn’t seem worried so you relaxed some.

You followed Aemond back outside. The cold air had you pulling the cloak further around you. Luckily for you, Aegon already stood outside, looking as dishelved as you were sure you and Aemond were. His hair was a mess, his shirt falling off of his shouder, and pants barely pulled up. Aemond grunted in acknowledgment, and Aegon just grinned.

Aemond ignored his brother, walking in the direction that led back to the Keep. You followed behind him, also ignoring Aegon's shocked look that you two weren’t saying a word about what had previously occured.

It seemed as you got further, Aegon got more and more restless, “It seems you two had fun?” He teased, finally speaking up about what was clearly driving him mad.

Aemond just continued walking, but you spoke to Aegon, “You’re always off having fun, your brother deserves a turn.”

Aegon snorted, “I doubt my brother would offer me, a turn,” he smirked at you, eyes travelling up and down your body, hooking on the remnants of Aemond bruised into your skin.

You were getting closer to the Keep, which was an entirely new problem, sneaking back in and finding a way to cover up the proof of what occurred, “I don’t think it would be up to Aemond,” you finally said, referring to Aegon’s turn.

Aegon’s eyes widened at the implication, and you laughed. Aemond turned around and glared at the pair of you. Aegon shrunk back, but you didn't, just continuing to smile at the boy, “My mother did tell me I got the choice in who I married,” you continued to play with them at your next words, “And it is not wrong to see who satisfies more. Is it?”

Aemond looked like a vein was going to pop out of his head, but Aegon was grinning, nodding along with your words.

It was Aemond who spoke this time, “So you haven’t found your husband?”

You grinned, walking infront of the boys, only to look back at them, “Not yet.”

✩Taglist for HOTD posts ✩

@happinessinthebeing

To be so fr I know there’s more than just that but I don’t know who so lmk if you want to be tagged in all HOTD posts 😭

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

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✩Let's Play a Love Game✩ Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩

✩General Warnings✩ Cursing, Smut, Class differences, More Warnings Per Individual Chapter✩

✩ General Masterlist ✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Pinterest Board ✩

✩ Masterlist✩

✩ Chapter One ✩ Title? ✩

✩ Taglist ✩ Open ✩

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

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✩ Drowning in Madness ✩ Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader ✩

✩ Summary ✩ As Aemond's wife, and mother to his children, when Aegon is crowned king, you find yourself helpless. Daughter of the Queen who has no crown, your mother sits miles away, her throne stolen from her as you can only watch. Your husband seems to play royal lap dog well, but you heedlessly worry for the safety of your children. Running into a certain knight begins to change that. But are your sacrifices brave, or stupid? ✩

✩ Warnings ✩ Pregnant reader, Canon deaths, stillbirth/miscarriage, rough social standards, child marriages, toxic ideals of love, cursing, general angst ✩

✩ General ✩TBH this was largely written bc of Paris Paloma's song Labour so take that as you will. As usual the father of reader is left open for appearance purposes, and again, as always, reader doesn't have to be Rhaenyra's biological child if that doesn't work for you. For the purposes of this Aemond is older than I usually make him. Let the dance begin. Fire to fire, blood for blood. ✩

✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Word Count 5.8k ✩ Labour - Paris Paloma ✩

“This is madness,” you snap, “You are to stay here. In the Keep,” you insist, hand wrapped around your husband’s wrist.

“You cannot just go around making demands,” he huffs, nostrils flaring, single eye dark with annoyance and exhaustion, the days since his brother's coronation tiring, “I am to fly to Storm’s End. There is no debate in the matter, wife,” Aemond hisses, attempting to tug his hand from yours.

You let go of his hand with his attempts at freeing himself, and you move farther from him, leaning back into the couch of your rooms, “Lovely,” you say dryly, “You will leave your children and your wife in the presence of those who want our heads on spikes. Just fantastic.”

Aemond turns, eye twitching in annoyance, “Perhaps,” he says slowly, “If you did not insist on walking around claiming sympathies for the whore, no one would question your allegiances.”

“The whore,” you spit, “Is my mother, and your brother has taken her throne. Her crown. Her birthright.”

Aemond grabs your face, and you wince with the harshity in which he does so, gentle hands turned cold, his fingers digging into your skin, “Those are treasonous words, dear wife.”

“Treason or truth?” you hiss, “We both know the King had no wish for his son to sit the throne.”

Aemond releases your face, thumb coming to trace the indents he’d created in your skin, soothing the wounds he’d created, an act so caring that you could not help but lean in, “And yet, it is Aegon who sits the throne, while your mother idles away on her little island,” his voice is softer this time, none of the bite of the King’s loyal dog this time, rather your husband alone, “Your allegiance is misplaced little thing,” his fingers are hot against your face, “It is us who sit in the Keep with you. My mother who sat with you during your births, my sister who sewed our children’s blankets. It is me who wed you, who cares for you,” his hands drift, one ungloved hand hot against your stomach, “Who gave you children,” a reminder, you remembered - how could you not, there was nothing to be done for you, nothing you could do, not with Aemond’s babe in your belly. There was no running away, no fighting to be done, no dragon to be taken when you were pregnant, when your daughter sat at three and your son at barely past one, “Who loves you,” he repeated, hand falling from your skin, “And I do. I do love you.”

Love and possession are not the same, you seek to say. But you don't dare, not when recently the fire dancing in your husband’s violet eye has been dancing brighter and brighter, his rage bubbling and boiling as if Vhagar’s flames sat in his blood. His fire seems to be of rage rather than love, a thought that scares you, your husband becoming the man everyone whispered he could be.

So you nod, submitting to your husband, as you’d been taught, not by your mother. Who, Aemond was right, sat toiling away on Dragonstone while you held face for her in King’s Landing. No, you submitted as you were shown by Alicent. You must commend her, for a moment, in the innocence of her face, in the play of her words and servitude, you forgot she knew how to blame the game better than anyone else. She had sat and learned from the greatest men in all the Realms, little mouse taking bits of cheese when no cat was around to see. It was her son to sit on the throne in the end, the entire Seven Realms bordering war because she knew how to play pretty wife, serving queen. And now, it was her son to remind you of your place. Nothing more than a vessel for his heirs, a pretty wife to decorate his side. Submitting to him. Just as you’d been taught.

“And I love you,” you answered honestly, for however much your mind screamed, your heart would still sing. Aemond was your husband, of gentle touches and wiped tears. He was your husband, who at times was loving and kind. A man who had held your daughter for the first time and wept. Who, upon your son's birth swore he would do anything to protect him.

Is that what this was? Protection? It did not feel it, it felt like possession, being locked away, no opinions of your own. There were no options anymore. You did as you were told, there were no soft fights and gentle makeups. Love shared in the court and in your bed, love in firm touches and lips locked. No, everything now bordered on death and flirted in treason. But there were no lies in your words, you loved Aemond. You could not help it, even if the cold man who stood in front of you was not the same one that shed tears over a babe, he was your husband all the same.

So, you stood. You stood and kissed your husband's cheek, the one scarred, as you always did, refusing to shy away from the cut your brother had made. Refusing to give him any reason to ever think he was unloved. Your love for Aemond was unconditional, no matter how you tried to fight it.

“Be safe then, my prince, my husband” you say gently, heart clenching, wondering how the rats would play when the cat was away, you and your children at their mercy once he leaves.

He smiled, softer than you’d seen in days, moving to kiss your lips rather than your cheek, hungry, not gentle as you had tried to be, love and fire did not always mix, “Storm’s End is a short flight away. All Baratheon will want is a marriage agreement, and then his support shall be ours,” and then he leaves, no more words, no declarations of love or a goodbye, simply walking away, leaving you reeling at his words.

A marriage proposal. Borros had just had a son, your heart raced, just a babe, a babe still but what lord would deny their son a Targaryen Princess. Your daughter, your sweet daughter of barely three. You could see him now, Aemond in the hall of Storm’s End, a sick smirk on his face, a cat who had gotten the milk, offering Borros your daughter like a prize. And it would work, you knew it would. No matter how the prior Baratheon had sworn, Borros was a proud man, his banners would be sewn green in news of a marriage.

It was often you forgot Aemond was a man same as his grandfather, same as his brother. Though in the days past as of late, it had been becoming more and more apparent. As he spoke of your mother, ‘the old whore,’ you remembered that Hightower blood ran just as thick as the blood of the dragon, though cold rather than hot. He moved women about the board, they were toys for their use. Even his own daughter was just a thing to be sold to keep his brother’s throne. Your darling Aemma, reduced to nothing more than the future Lord Baratheon’s bride. Not a dragonrider, not a princess, not an heir, a wife. She’d do as she was taught, just as you did, just as her grandmother did, and hers before her. In this, you felt more betrayed than when Aemond told you that Aegon would be King. At least in that you could excuse it as Alicent and Otto. But this, this was Aemond, distinctly and solely. This was your husband making a decision for your daughter, without ever even breathing a word to you. The girl's mother, his wife. Set aside like a checked piece.

Checkmate.

After some time of sitting, of stewing with the storm in your belly, the grief of a girl still alive, you stood, wishing desperately to see your daughter. To lay your eyes on the babe that looked so much like her father. A father planning to sell her as the King had once sold you, bargaining of peace that would never come.

Traveling through the hallways you felt like a rat to be caught, one slip up and they would have your head, in that you were confident. It would be easier, to rid themselves of you, you were a loose piece, Rhaenyra's daughter. Yet, you took comfort in your husband’s protection, even if he was not here. Should you not misstep, should you stay in line, they could not touch you. Aemond would burn the world should he find a hair of your head was plucked by anyone but him. Your husband may not be the kindest man, but no one dared question his devotion. A loyal dog. A beast chained at the side of those he claimed to love.

As you walked, you froze, noticing a knight. Ser Erryk. That should not have been an odd thing to note, and it wouldn’t have been, had it not looked like he was coming from a piece of the Keep not for him. If it did not look as if he was headed towards the King’s chambers. The chambers that had not yet been cleared for Aegon. The chambers in which Viserys’ body still laid to rot. No funeral was held yet, for Aegon had to be named King before your grandfather was named dead.

You should stay quiet. Do not rock the boat. Let him do as he pleases, or perhaps even run to your good-mother, report the knight's odd behavior. Get into her good graces, protect your children in a blanket of trust from the Dowager. But you were your mother’s daughter, no matter how much Alicent tried to mold you, and so diving head first into madness was as easy as breathing.

“Ser Erryk,” you called simply, voice barely a whisper, hoping desperately not to garner the attention of any of the handmaidens in the Keep, half of which you knew would run to Alicent with even the slightest whiff of treason. The Dowager paid handsomely for loyalty.

His head snapped to you, and you supposed knights were not meant to be stealthy, but he should know better than to have his eyes widen so. It gave it away. He was doing something he was not supposed to. How interesting.

“Princess,” he bowed immediately, and you walked closer, logic flying out the window along with any semblance of keeping the peace as you grabbed his arm, pulling yourself and him into the nearest room.

The knight began to ramble, “Princess, this is much inappropriate, to be caught alone,” you interrupted him, annoyance at the act of chivalry already present.

“Enough Erryk,” you called, much too informal “What the Hells are you doing? Last I checked you had no business with the late king’s body.”

His face flushed, guilt clear. Had it been anyone else, had Cole caught him, his head would already be severed in the name of the pretender, you do not let him defend himself, “Who did King Viserys name his heir?” you ask instead, quick in your decision before you come to regret it, “Who did the King wish to inherit his throne upon his death?”

Erryk looks surprised, eyes lighting up, “Rhaenyra Targaryen,” he answered boldly, and you fought the urge to grin, finally feeling a shred of sanity in days of pure madness.

You had felt yourself drowning but it appeared Erryk would give you oxygen.

“And are you serving the Queen now, Ser Erryk?” you ask bluntly, “Do you plan to pledge your allegiance to my mother?”

He hesitates, but nods, “Yes, your grace.”

Bold move, you could still run to Alicent, or Cole, or Otto, or the biggest threat Aemond, all who would have his head lopped off before he ever even made it out of the Keep. Perhaps your pretending was as bad as Aemond said, your allegiance to your mother clear. He confessed quickly, though you’d struggled to hold your tongue as well. If that was the case it would seem your piece would need swept off the board of green much sooner. Your clock was ticking.

“And how do you plan to do so?” Your heart pounds against your ribcage, like the pounding of the guards as Aegon walked, as you witnessed him steal your mother’s crown, as you watched your daughter’s fate be sealed by men supposed to love her, incessant and deafening.

Erryk looked you over, taking you in, Rhaenyra’s daughter but Aemond’s wife. Where would your loyalties lay?

It seemed he decided, too obvious, “A boat, your grace, there is a collection of us, those loyal to the Queen, just a handful,” he admitted, “Numbers slim, but it is good,” he assured, “Allows us to leave without notice.”

“And yet you stalk the halls instead of packing a bag?” You question, holes in this plan already clear.

His jaw tightens, “A Queen needs her crown.”

“Dear Gods,” you breathe, “You sought to take Jaehaerys’ crown?” You realize quickly, the thing still sat splayed on Viserys’ body, you’d seen so yourself.

Aegon took the conqueror’s crown, wielded the conqueror's blade, and bore his name. He had no use of the crown of a father who didn't even wish him to grace the throne of swords.

He nods, eyes anywhere but on you, he nods.

“Are you a damned idiot?” you hiss, “A crown does not make the Queen, but her knights do. The loyalty she sequesters does. Your life is not worth a hunk of metal. My mother would agree.”

His eyes widened at your claim, “The Good King’s crown need not be sullied by the pretender,” he jumped to say, though you knew Aegon wouldn’t dare touch the thing.

In that, you can agree. Though, the title ‘Good King,’ never belonged to Jaehaerys, not to you, not when all his daughters now sat dead, tragic fates in their parents hands. What good was a king with no heirs? What good was a king who could not run a family, much less the Realms?

“A brave task,” you admit, “Brave and stupid.”

He huffs, a small smile sitting on his face, “The two are often one and the same Princess.”

You smile briefly, “I suppose that is true,” you admit, you pause for a moment, the both of you not daring to speak what you knew needed to be said, “Is there room Erryk?”

He stares at you, “What?” He knows what you’re asking but he must hear the words, treason must be voiced.

“In your little ragtag group of misfits, on your sinking boat, is there room for three more,” your hand plants on your stomach, “Four, I suppose.”

“Princess,” he says carefully.

You cut him off, again, “My dragon shall stay here, worry not of that,” you assure, as if that had even been a thought in his head, though it had been on yours, another piece of you lost to teh Hightowers playing King, “Erryk you are to take my children, at the least,” you plead - you order.

His eyes widened, “My Princess, your husband, the Prince,” you seem to have a terrible habit of interrupting the poor knight.

“Is in Storm’s End, and you will have my children and I gone and to Dragonstone by the time he returns,” you assure, “Safe under my mother, having brought her her daughter and grandchildren. Those are much more important than a crown I’d argue,” you attempt to joke, desperation clear in your voice.

He takes a breath, considering, and so you continue to push, “I will prepare them, get them in their cloaks and have them ready for you, send a maid to take them on a walk. A girl I trust,” you beg, “I will not even walk with them to move suspicion. Erryk,” you grab the knights hands, causing him to jerk but you do not let go like you had with Aemond, “Aemond has flown to Storm’s End to offer our daughter’s hand,” confusion fills his face, “My daughter has become nothing more than me, a broodmare to some cold lord. I am begging you to save her from my fate,” you squeeze his hands, “I will not sit and watch her suffer, do not make me.”

Finally, he nods, “Yes Princess,” he breathes, “We leave when the sun hits its peak on the morrow. With you and your children aboard.”

You nod, your next words careful, “The children will be there,” you assure, “And if I am not, by the time the sun hits peak, you leave.”

He looks appalled, “No, Princess, if we leave and take the Prince and Princess…”

“If I am not there, I have been caught. I will not have you and my children caught too. So you go, and you take my children to Dragonstone,” you command with the voice of a Princess, no longer a pleading damsel.

He sighs, but dips his head, “Yes, your grace.”

You squeeze his hands once again, “You are doing a brave thing Ser Erryk.”

He shakes his head, smile on his face, “A stupid thing.”

You laugh, soft and short, “One in the same,” he nods, “Now go, and do stay away from the King's chambers,” you tease gently, your voice much too serious for a jest.

Your daughter is just three, yet she is braver than most, smarter than all, and above all the greatest thing to ever happen to you. So as you sit with her in your lap you cannot help but have your hands shake as they comb through her pale curls, about to place the weight of the world on her frail shoulders.

“My darling girl,” you say gently, putting your face close to hers, “You listen to me alright? Listen to Mother?” She nods, always the good little thing, “Tomorrow, after your lessons,” at just three Alicent still insisted she attend lessons, learning to serve her role, wife, mother, princess, “You will go with your maid, with your brother, and you will get on a boat,” her eyes widen but you do not stop, she’d never left the Keep farther than a carriage ride, “And you will go to Dragonstone, to see your grandmother,” a grandmother she’d just recently met, even the birth of your children not enough to pull Rhaenyra back to King’s Landing.

She looked desperately confused, “You and Father?” she mumbled carefully, unused to going anywhere without you and Aemond.

Aemond being even gone the last days had been odd for the girl. It had been odd for you, used to your husband’s always looming presence.

You take a breath, “You will go, and you will be brave,” you say softly, taking her face in your hands, “Even if Mother and Father are not there,” no chance in hell Aemond would be, but you prayed you would, “Do you hear, love? Are you listening?” something Aemond always emphasized to the girl, the difference between hearing and listening.

“Listening,” she confirmed with a nod.

“Good girl,” you breathe, kissing her forehead, “You will follow your maid and be good for her? You make sure your little brother is good too, watch him, little thing, yes?” Another nod, another kiss, “And you don't speak a word of this. A secret,” you rephrase, “It’s a game,” you say instead, watching her smile, “And you want to win, yes?” she nods, ever Aemond’s daughter, competitive and sharp, “Then let us keep our lips locked,” you trace your fingers over her lips and she giggles.

You melt at the sound, pulling her closer to you, face buried in her hair, breathing her in, “My brave, brave girl,” you say softly, eyes welling with tears, begging them not to fall. She needn’t know there was anything to be scared of, it was a game.

It was always a game.

You laugh softly as you see your son barely standing, trying to walk to you. His violet eyes stony in determination to get to his mother and sister. You stand, daughter still in your arms, scooping him to you as well. Two children, neither babes any longer, they are heavy. You sink back into the couch, with both of your children curled into you. Pale hair and features that remind you so much of Aemond, pressed into you, the vessel used to birth them. You sat with them warming your skin and heart, babe in your belly ever present as you soak in the love of your children. The children that you pray you will see after tomorrow.

You pay a handmaiden, handsomely, a girl who had only ever served you, never Alicent, never Helaena, only you and your children. You give her a sack of coins and a bag of jewelry Aemond had given you over the years. Your children’s safety had no price. Much less the cost of jewelry bought for affection, in an attempt of love - an attempt at possession as he buried you in sapphire jewelry for all to see.

And you told her to run. Not to dare come back to the Keep once she had delivered the children to Erryk, in fact, it was a good idea to beg him for a seat on that boat. There would be no safe place for anyone who had helped the escape of the Prince and Princess in King's landing. You felt immeasurable amounts of guilt knowing there was no place safe in the world for the people you had sunk your claws in, but no guilt out balanced the need to protect your children. You hoped Vhagar’s flames would be swift when the time came for Aemond’s rage.

You paced your room, knowing you could not leave the Keep at the same time the children were. It is now that the maid should be walking them through. A walk. You’d told Alicent in advance, that the children had been restless without their father, that a walk outside would do them good. As predicted she’d agreed, nervous at the mention of her son being gone, insisting that you do not trouble yourself while pregnant. Her words were clear, you were not to leave the Keep, much less with your children. Your escape was not an ignored thought. But you’d set the path, your children’s safe exit, not your own, but that was not what mattered. As long as the children were safe.

You’d placed a note in your daughter's skirt. A simple thing, just in case you did not sit that boat with them, addressed to your mother, to your Queen, begging her to care for your children. You had faith in your mother. Perhaps she hadn’t learned to love them yet, barely having met them, but she loved you.

You hoped that she still loved you.

You watched the sun, watching it sit higher and higher in the sky, a ticking clock for your leave. You were lucky to do so, watching as the sun was eclipsed by a beast too large.

Vhagar.

Your heart leapt to your throat, your stomach churning in a strange way that it had started to do this morning. You chalked it to nerves. Aemond was back. You tried desperately to quell your panic, the children had already left, your maid already taken them, a walk, you repeated. Alicent knew, she would not call for them on their father’s return, she knew they were not here. She would call for you though, and you knew, you knew the moment you saw Aemond he would read you. He would pick you apart the same way he always had and it would be over, the boat would not have left yet, then. You’d sentence a ship full of your mother’s supporters to death, sentence yourself to a beheading, seal your daughter’s fate to the Baratheon babe.

And so, you left your room, a simple dress, much too simple for Aemond and Alicent’s taste, loose around the growing swell of your stomach, cloak cast over your shoulders. Foolishly, you’d left a note for Aemond as well. For all the betrayal, he was your husband, you knew he’d grow mad, blame someone, convinced you were taken, despite the logic of everyone else. In an attempt to stop war and Vhagar’s fire, you wrote gently of your desire for your children to be safe, away from the mess that filled the Keep. You placed no blame, only writing that you wanted your daughter more free than you had been. Signing it, his wife.

Always.

You’d always be his wife no matter how you wished to scrub it away, it was etched into your bones.

You tried your greatest to move through the Keep without much notice, largely succeeding as the fuss was now on the returning prince, your heart racing faster with every slip of your husband’s name, the name of his dragon. You saw maids rushing with towels and blankets, the storm, you remembered, it must have soaked him, you were shocked he’d even come back in this weather, it had been the reason that Erryk had not departed the day prior, waiting for skies to clear.

It was only when another name was mentioned that you froze, dead in your spot, body cold, straining your ears to the maids gossip. Why in the Seven Hells were there mentions of your brother, the second, falling from anyone’s lips?

“The Dowager’s yelling could be heard across the halls,” one girl whispered, voice young and eager to share.

Another added, “Of what? She is usually so calm,” if only she knew.

“The Prince is dead,” the first whispers, your heart lurches, face draining of blood.

“The Prince returned on Vhagar,” the other girl adds, as if the first is stupid.

Your heart races faster than you’ve ever felt it, pain already boiling in your body, grief clawing its way in, as you wait for them to confirm. Hot searing in your belly. You ignore it for now. As you had been doing all day.

The first laughs, “No, it is said Prince Lucerys found himself in Storm’s End the same time as the One Eyed.”

Alicent would have her removed from duties for that comment alone, you thought helplessly. Your heart no longer raced, no it slowed, slowed as if it would stop, grief and anger radiating your body like a poison. You clutched at your stomach, feeling that ignored searing heat that you knew you should not be feeling, you felt warm stick on your thighs and you did not need a hand to confirm it was blood.

You held back a whimper, terrified of being caught, horrified that the maids would not finish their tale. You needed the truth.

The second girl took a moment, taking it in, “And Prince Aemond killed him?”

“The shouts appear as if it was an accident, but if you ask me the Prince made the bastard dragon fodder as deserved,” she says coldly.

Your stomach seized, and you bit your lip until it bled as the rest of you did. Your brother was dead. Your husband had killed him. You screwed your eyes shut in pain, images of your brother flashing before you, a babe, a toddler, a child of flushed cheeks and soft curls. A boy, a boy of bright eyes that looked so much like your mother’s.

Dead. Dragon Fodder.

“He was so young,” the other girl says, seemingly more sympathetic than the first.

Four and ten your mind supplies, your baby. Sweet boy.

“They say the whore lost her babe as well,” the first maid adds, as if it was joyous.

How ironic you thought helplessly, your mother and you in the same position, hundreds of miles apart, babes falling from you like a leaking bottle of Arbor Red.

The second maid again gasps, “That is terrible, to lose a father, a babe, and a son all in a day's time.”

“Well, the Dowager and Hand seem sure war is to be fought over the Prince’s accident,” the first informs, with no worry in her voice, as if assured that green will reign supreme in the end.

You do not hear the other girls answer, your eyes snapping open. In your pain, as you accept that the babe in you is long dead, you did not stop to think.

Stupid.

To be brave is to be stupid.

You had tried so desperately to be brave. Helplessly, you look to the sky, past the peak, you note, the ship was gone, your children on the way to Dragonstone. On the way to an island where two grieving parents sat, not ready to receive the children of the man who caused it. Your heart races again, grief set aside, panic for your children increasing as the excruciating pain in your stomach does. All of it brewing to a boil.

Finally, you cry out, unable to stop yourself as the pain, both of the babe expelling itself from your womb, and the pain of knowing you’d just sent your children to the dragon’s den. Your brother dead, mother’s babe gone. It was all too much.

The maids behind you, who had been so informative, rush to your side, calling for help as they see your pain and stained dress. Stained red, you note. Targaryen red had always been your favorite color, yet now it haunts you as your house falls to madness.

Their shouts alert the Keep, and your husband, who looks like a wet dog, rushing to your side. You knew it was true the moment you saw him. You’d always read him the best, and him you. You can see the regret in the lines of his face, the grief in his eye, and now the panic in the way his hands curl.

As he reaches to touch you, you shake your head, refusing. His eye widens, realization that you knew causing him to flinch back, your sobs now for all your children, your brother included.

But Aemond, despite his grief, his panic, his guilt, he is your husband above all, your husband who knows you better than anyone. Your husband who knows this is not how you dress, who knows that this time you are meant to be with the children who are nowhere present. He takes one look at you, writhing in pain and coated in blood, and even so, he can read you like a children’s book, easy to interpret and moral glaringly obvious.

“What did you do?” He breathes, horror painted on his face.

You can only cry, sinking to the ground, clutching your stomach, already mourning four children rather than one, “You killed him,” you cry, shoving at his hands that now tried to grab yours, “You killed them,” and he knows then, what you’ve done.

You know your mother, a woman now mad with grief, but more than that, you know her husband, a vicious lapdog, no care for grief and morals. Daemon was a dragon more than any of you, except perhaps your husband. Vengeance and revenge was seared into his blood. If you were in your senses you’d be able to point out the similarities between you and your mother and Aemond and Daemon. Instead you could only scream, shoving his hands as they shake.

“Where are they?” Aemond heaves, desperately clinging to you, grabbing your shoulders, your children, his children, who you’d tried so hard to protect.

The handmaids stand, shocked by what is occurring, unable to offer you comfort in the presence of Aemond. Not that you’d allow it, not after the words you’d heard muttered of your brother. Your poor, dead, little brother.

Despite your pain, your husband’s touch was anything but caring as you lose your child on the cold floor of the Keep. The touch is hot, searching, grabs and squeezed, nails digging in. He is demanding answers, yet offering you comfort in his heat all the same. Love and anger came so easily to the two of you. One could not exist without the other.

“Gone,” you sob, finally, “They are gone,” leaning into him, giving into the warmth he always provided, even soaking wet, even with blood on his hands, “Dragonstone,” you confess, knowing damn well he already knew.

Traitor, Murderer, Kinslayer, Husband.

He himself lets out a cry, a quick thing, one the maids probably mistook as yours, a sharp shout of pain, “Dear Gods, what have you done?” he breathes again, looking just as sick as you despite the lack of ailments.

“My babies,” you croak, arms searching for him, Aemond moved closer to you, body tucked into yours, he held you, burying his head into your shoulder, hiding his grief in a way you weren’t permitted.

You only shake, clutching him, terrified he’d leave, and wanting nothing more than to shove him away. Neither happened. You both stayed stopped in time, in a pile of your blood, your child's blood. Even as the maester came, Alicent, and then Otto, horrified by the puddle of their grieving children and the blood of yours. You and Aemond stayed frozen, folded into one another as if you could stop what was happening, stop the future that was bound to play. Neither of you move, neither of you answer any of the questions yelled at you, nor do either of you let even the maester help you through the dying babe. It was a punishment, it seemed in that you were in agreement, divine intervention, condemning for all you had done. So now you sat in Hell together, binded by fire and blood as you always had been.

There was no stopping what was to come. Aemond had begun war with the death of your brother. The death of Lucerys Velaryon ended a battle of ravens and succession, and moved it to a war, a war of annihilation and revenge. The death of children caused rage like no other, burned like no other.

There was no doubt that Rhaenyra and Daemon wanted blood for blood. You, you had tried desperately to keep your children safe. Yet instead, you’d sent your children to the two people that had the most reason to harm them. Grieving parents faced no logic, you and Aemond a bloodied mess, were proof of that.

As you sat bloodied, the same position your mother had been in only a day prior, you could hear her voice, no, no you could hear Daemon's voice reverberating in your heads.

A babe for a babe.

A son for a son.

✩Taglist✩ Gen. HOTD✩

@mel9630 @happinessinthebeing

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

Text

✩Let's Play a Love Game✩ Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩

✩General Warnings✩ Cursing, Smut, Class differences, More Warnings Per Individual Chapter✩

✩ General Masterlist ✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Pinterest Board ✩

✩ Masterlist✩

✩ Chapter One ✩ Title? ✩

✩ Taglist ✩ Open ✩

@happinessinthebeing

@mel9630

16 notes · View notes

piecksbitch16 · 3 months

Text

✩Let's Play a Love Game✩ Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩

✩General Warnings✩ Cursing, Smut, Class differences, More Warnings Per Individual Chapter✩

✩ General Masterlist ✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Pinterest Board ✩

✩ Masterlist✩

✩ Chapter One ✩ Title? ✩

✩ Taglist ✩ Open ✩

@happinessinthebeing

@mel9630

16 notes · View notes

piecksbitch16 · 3 months

Text

✩Let's Play a Love Game✩ Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩

✩General Warnings✩ Cursing, Smut, Class differences, More Warnings Per Individual Chapter✩

✩ General Masterlist ✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Pinterest Board ✩

✩ Masterlist✩

✩ Chapter One ✩ Title? ✩

✩ Taglist ✩ Open ✩

@happinessinthebeing

@mel9630

16 notes · View notes

piecksbitch16 · 3 months

Text

✩Let's Play a Love Game✩ Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩

✩General Warnings✩ Cursing, Smut, Class differences, More Warnings Per Individual Chapter✩

✩ General Masterlist ✩ HOTD Masterlist ✩ Playlist ✩ Pinterest Board ✩

✩ Masterlist✩

✩ Chapter One ✩ Title? ✩

✩ Taglist ✩ Open ✩

@happinessinthebeing

@mel9630

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

Text

First Aemond series and first modern hotd series. I fear it is classically cheesy, but that is the vibe I need going into summer.

✩Let's Play a Love Game ✩ Moodboard ✩ Mod!Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩ Soon to come✩

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

Text

✩Let's Play a Love Game ✩ Moodboard ✩ Mod!Aemond Targaryen x Reader✩ Soon to come✩

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

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piecksbitch16 · 3 months

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Me when I let Aegon and Helaena be together and happy??? Weird

“More reason for me to be so invested in this. I am living vicariously through you,” she hopped down from the counter, bare feet making a soft thud, “And Aegon is going,” you did not ask on that, it was not your place to question the integrity of Aegon’s sobriety, nor his and Helaena’s relationship, though you couldn't help but notice that these days, more often than not, her wedding ring sat in her left hand, Aegon’s you noted, never left the chain around his neck, not once since you’d met him, she elaborated anyway, “His therapist says it is a trial. Being at a party surrounded by substances and alcohol, then his wife and children sitting at home, waiting for him to come home, sober,” His wife, you noted, not just the twins and Maelor, or his family, his wife.

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