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daenysx · 1 year

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Hi, thank you for you answer I have this idea for a Aemond x reader.

Reader is pregnant with Aemond first child. On a ball our a birthday, comes to an accident and the reader going into labor. Aemond tries to protect his wife, but its to late and he can do nothing except to hold her hand am and prey.

I hope u can understand what i mean, english is not my first language c:

thank you for this request, i hope you like it!

requests are open!!

my masterlist

come back to me

an accident leads to an early labor and prince aemond never lets go of your hand.

your prince looks quite bored as he watches the bright lights and people dancing with each other. his hand stays on your thigh, rubbing circles, comforting both you and himself. he's never liked these events, there are too many people and he has to engage conversations with them even if he despises them. he doesn't like the act of pretending, doesn't like the loud voices.

your hand stays on your swollen belly, a habit since your belly started growing. you are carrying your first child. the baby is perfectly healthy as the maesters told you and will be born in two moons. you hold aemond's hand, resting on your thigh. you try to comfort him with soft fingers and a reassuring smile. he looks at you, his lips curved into a little smile.

it's the king's name day. even though viserys targaryen is not present all the evening, he was there at the table for a few moments until he felt tired. the feast still goes on; people dance, eat, and drink. aemond is bored and doesn't want to see his mother's teary eyes, helaena's absent smile, and aegon's scandalous behaviours. his brother keeps drinking like there's no tomorrow and doesn't hide his greedy eyes towards maids.

you bring your face closer to aemond's ear, "would you like to leave, my prince?"

he gives you a worried look. "are you alright, my love?"

you nod, "i am, but we can always use my pregnancy as an excuse to retire early."

he smiles slyly. he loves how you feel his discomfort and try to make it better for him. he would love to leave now, go to your shared chambers and help you sleep with his kisses. he nods, "let me tell my mother."

he stands up, goes to talk to alicent. you stand as well, take a few steps to the stairs connect the royal table with other tables that other people are seated. as you see aemond approaching you, you turn your head to alicent's way and give her a little smile. you turn your direction back to the stairs and walk slowly.

then comes the moment of aemond targaryen's worst nightmare.

you can't even recall how, but your foot slips when you are on the stairs and you lose your balance. your hand immediately goes for your belly but you can't stop yourself from falling.

a sharp pain. that's all you feel. your head feels heavy and your legs don't seem to remember how to carry you. aemond isn't quick enough to catch you from the distance he stands. he goes to your side, sees your face covered in the look of pain and desperation. his hands stay on your body, checking if you are alright.

"my love...talk to me, please."

you sob, everyone is there, too crowded and there is no air. pain. between your legs. the ground is shaky. everything is blurry.

"aemond...our baby-it hurts."

alicent screams for the maesters. her voice is not clear in your ears, your hands never leave your belly. they carry you to your chambers, far away from people. aemond is there, his heart beats too loud, he can hear it. the distance between his eyebrows close as he yells at people around.

you are on the bed now, the pain is there. you hear aemond's voice, explaining what happened to the maester impatiently. the maester tells him that the birth might be started.

"aemond- too soon- too soon. do something, please!" your eyes are slightly open as you beg your husband. you fear of losing your baby. you don't even consider your own life, but your husband does.

aemond would burn the city to the ground if you die.

"the princess must give birth right now, my prince."

you try to reach for his hand. he is there by your side. he looks like he is in pain, he kisses your hairline and holds your hand. "stay calm, my love. we will be alright."

your prince is a rational man. he knows he should keep you calm and strong. he can endure this pain, he can even get used to it. if he wants you to stay healthy and alive, he should ease off your worries. the birth is earlier than it would be under normal conditions but that shouldn't mean the baby and you will be in a certain danger.

"i know the birth is early, but you shall be alright. you are my strong wife, remember? try to stay calm for us, for me and for our baby, please. i'm right here with you."

his voice is an anchor. you try to breathe steadily and even though your head hurts with the feeling of imbalance you do not wish to care for it.

the maester and your handmaids are in the chamber. they are in a rush, all devoted to you and your prince. you can understand that aemond's presence and his stern voice helps little for them to complete their duties.

you hear the maester's desperate voice. "my prince, you shall not be in here."

your husband answers with the coldest tone. "if any of you ever dare to tell me to leave my wife, i will make sure of your painful deaths caused by vhagar."

the maester accepts his words unwillingly. you care little for it. you are too tired, you don't know what to do, you don't want to die here. aemond stays next to you, holds your hand and caresses your hair with his free hand.

"you will not leave me. did you hear that, sweet wife? everything will be fine."

you blink slowly. you try to hold onto that warm tone of his voice. you feel the maester's hands on your body, he keeps telling you to push. you spend all your strength but it feels impossible. it feels like death and you are more scared for your baby than you are scared for yourself. with a little conscious you pray for your baby. for your husband. let them be fine.

aemond is terrified. there's no other word to describe how he feels. he is scared. he keeps thinking about the endless possibilities. he tries to look strong but this is harder than all the battles and duels.

alicent is in the chambers too, watching her son with worried eyes. she fears for your life, she prays and prays and prays. she sees how aemond tries to create a safe space for you. how he tries for you to focus on the birth instead of the fear of death.

"once more, princess."

you scream. you are sure the entire keep is covered with your screams. you lost the count of time. how many hours have passed, is it morning yet? you don't know. then you feel a sudden relief. your baby leaves your body and all your muscles shakes at the feeling.

"a son, your grace!"

you try to see your baby but you don't have the strength to lift your head enough. a boy. a beautiful boy. you wait to hear his cry but there is no voice. aemond stays frozen, he doesn't let go of your hand, his tears are ready to fall.

then the most beautiful sound you've ever heard fills the room.

your son cries and the maester smiles. "there is nothing to worry now, my prince. the little prince looks quite healthy. "

aemond smiles and looks at you. he knows how tired you are but you manage to give him a smile anyway. the relief of your son being healthy and safe is too strong to resist and you close your eyes.

the maids clean the baby and wrap clean, white clothing around him. aemond reaches to hold his son. his son.

the feeling is quite strange for the one eyed prince. he still fears for you but holding his baby in his arms is a relief. he holds him for what feels like an eternity. he memorises the baby's facial features, all the same with his, only with the shape of your mouth. he watches, mesmerised and happy.

alicent approaches closer to her son. aemond looks at her and puts the baby in her arms securely after pressing a little kiss on his forehead. alicent smiles to her grandson, proud and relieved. her worries lessen when she sees how healthy the baby is even though he was born two moons early.

aemond sits on the edge of the bed. your handmaids clean the bed, there is no blood now. you are in a clean space, your eyes closed and your hair messy. he brushes his fingers on your cheek gently, prays to the gods to give you back to him. he prays for you to find your balance again, to be happy now that your son is here. he prays for you to wake up, to tell him you're fine, to ask him about the baby's name. he wishes for you to tell him all your name choices and decide what's your desire to call your boy. he just wishes for you to come back to him.

he keeps stroking your cheek when you open your eyes. your eyes are unfocused for a moment, then you see him. he looks exhausted but when he realizes you open your eyes, he cups your cheek. "my love?"

"aemond, our son-" your voice doesn't feel like your own. you can't complete your clumsy sentence.

"he is alright. a perfect boy, healthy and safe. how do you feel, my lady?"

you sigh in comfort when he tells you about your son. "i'll be better."

"yes, you will. you will be better. than we will choose a name for our boy, hmm? would you like that?"

you nod. "yes. it would be lovely."

your prince takes a deep breath. the experience was terrifying but you survived. he leans and kisses your forehead affectionally. "you have done perfectly. i love you."

"i love you. thank you for never leaving, my prince."

he shakes his head. "i will be by your side until the end of my days."

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

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toms-cherry-trees · 7 months

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Not Worthy Of You || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor at night brings some clarity to the last months

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mention of B&C and Storm's End. No beta reading

Author's note: This was supposed to be short. This was supposed to be 1k words. But I got carried away. Enjoy!

The candles had long died out, and only dying embers remained in the smouldering fireplace, too feeble to give the room any light. Piercing darkness entered through the gaps in the drapes, the moonless night shrouding the Red Keep in a thick, ponderous veil of black. Not a sound disturbed the quietness of the Holdfast, nor the peace of those sleeping in it.

You stirred in the bed, the sheets rustling and a pleasant tingle spreading through your body as you stretched your limbs lazily. You felt well rested, perhaps for the first time in many moons. It had been a long time since you last woke up naturally, instead of being forcefully taken from your slumber by aches, cramps, and most recently, little cries throughout the night. At that thought your eyebrows furrowed, and still partially asleep you rolled over in the bed, your hand searching in the darkness for the little wooden cradle by your side.

Your fingers only found emptiness, the abandoned blankets still holding your newborn’s warmth.

Whatever drowsiness lingered in your mind soon dissipated as worry crept upon you, settling like a heavy weight atop your chest. You sat upright with such haste you felt faint, having to hold onto your head until the bright lights vanished from your vision. Fright quickly overcame your senses. You double checked the crib, pulling blankets out and looking under your bed, as if somehow the babe, barely a fortnight old, could have climbed out and hidden somewhere without you noticing.

Desperation clouded your thoughts, your heartbeat quickening and your breath coming in shallow pants. You scrambled from bed, barely having half a mind to grab a robe; the parky night air covered your skin in gooseflesh. You headed for the door, the call for help ready to sprout from your lips, when the smallest, softest of coos drew your attention to the opposite side of the chamber.

Now that your eyes had adjusted a bit, you could vaguely make out the shape of a person sitting in front of the large windows in a sturdy rocking chair your family had gifted you when they received the news of your impending motherhood. Slightly hunched forward, gently swaying back and forth, the rockers barely made noise against the thick carpet they laid upon. At first you believed it to be the wetnurse, who usually sat there to feed the baby, but you had specifically requested to have no servants in your chambers at night, wishing to carry the bulk of the childcare yourself. Hoping that that way you would feel more connected to your child, instead of staring at it like a foreign being that had been dropped on your lap by the Mother. Lovely, yes, and so dearly loved, but foreign nonetheless.

Soon it became obvious, however, that it was not the wetnurse, nor a maid, the one who sat in the chair. The dark figure sat tall, shoulders muscular and long legs stretched out, rocking the chair with a lazy sway of heavy boots. Oppressive panic stole the breath from your lungs at the vision of the unknown man, his arms positioned in a way that could only mean he currently held the infant in his embrace. The memory of what had recently happened to Helaena and her sweet child remained fresh in your mind.

You considered screaming for help, but not even a choked cry managed to come forth. Or maybe it did, and you just couldn’t hear it above the frantic hammering of your heart, rumbling in your ears like menacing war drums. Blindly you sought a weapon, any means of protection you could grasp to defend yourself and your child. Your trembling fingers gripped tightly the handle of an ornate letter opener you so happened to have left in the nightstand. You tried to swallow, but found your mouth to be as dry as the Dornish deserts.

Your feet barely made a sound in the flagstone as you carefully approached the intruder. Your mind overflowed with horrifying images of what had occurred to sweet Helaena. Even though you had not been witness to the act, the whispers reached you nonetheless, despite the Dowager Queen having carefully instructed the servants to not mention the crime near you, for fear of upsetting your mood and spoiling your health, right in the middle of your seventh moon of pregnancy. Despite the efforts, the nightmares lasted for weeks, fuelled by the clamour of your good sister’s wails as she escaped her chambers at night and wandered the halls calling for her lost son.

Slowly, as if wading through mud, you approached the chair. But it seemed the distance lengthened with each step, or perhaps your imagination had fooled you and you remained rooted in the spot. Your brain overflowed with horrific scenarios, a million outcomes to the situation, and the hopeless need to cry out, even if your mouth refused to open. As your eyes finally adjusted to the pitch darkness, however, you noticed silvery white tresses covering the person’s shoulders, and a thin dark strap wound around the head. The arm carrying the weapon lowered slowly, and the letter opener slid from your sweaty grasp onto the floor. Although weightless, in the silence of the night, the little piece of metal resonated like thunder.

The man didn’t flinch nor move to seek the source of such scandal; his smooth voice echoed in the chamber, a careful murmur to be heard without waking the baby.

“Abrazȳrys”

The familiar term of endearment should have calmed your nerves, but the word spoken so abruptly made you jump in your spot, hand coming to your bosom as your heart raced, as if ready to escape from the confines of your chest and make a run to safety.

“Seven hells, husband. You scared me half to death” You protested, pressing your cool palms against your heated cheeks and taking slow breaths. An immense wave of relief washed over you, mixed with an overpowering sense of weakness; all your energy had been consumed in the eternal moments you thought yourself and your child in danger, and now it took all you had not to collapse on your knees.

“My sincerest apologies, wife” He replied with a tone of propriety so usual in him, as if he merely apologised for bumping on you in the hallway, instead of scaring the living daylights out of you. His violet eye met yours as you moved within line of vision, taking seat in a low cushioned bench against the wall.

The bundle of blankets wrapping their firstborn appeared small and radiant against the dark planes of Aemond’s chest; the child tightly tucked in shades of green and trimmings of gold, chubby cheek snuggled against the warmth of her father’s body as she slept soundly. It amused you how easily the girl cozied up to Aemond, considering that, as far as you knew, they had not met before.

Fifteen nights and fourteen days had passed since their daughter Daenys came into their arms, letting her powerful cries be heard throughout the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast as the hour of the bat reached its peak of darkness. The child stunned those who helped bring her forth into the world, having been born with her eyes open, the right one violet like a Targaryen, and the left one with her mother’s colouring. A full head of silvery hair mixed with stray wisps of darker hues, giving her a colour no one could quite describe.

The day of her birth, her father shone in his absence. He evaded the Holdfast as if it were a cursed place. First he escaped towards the sparring yard, demanding to be taught the usage of a bastard sword, and turning a deaf ear to Cole’s comments that he should be with his wife. When the pestering became unbearable he tried to see his sister instead, but his wife’s screams echoed through every hall, making it impossible to ignore. Defeated and overwhelmed, he turned towards his dragon, far away from everyone. The smallfolk saw the massive shadow of a winged beast soar the skies, framed by the last rays of the setting sun as if engulfed in a fireball. Sight of him was lost with nightfall, but the dragon’s cries could still be heard, hidden behind clouds.

Aemond would have remained airborne until sunrise, had not young Daeron been sent out to pursue him and inform him that his wife had brought forth a most precious healthy girl. But not even such joyous news managed to lure the Prince back to the Red Keep. He flew again, towards unknown destination, not to be seen until the following day, well after the sun had begun its journey across the sky. Yet instead of rushing towards his family, he locked himself in the library, buried between books and scrolls until past dinner.

His attitude puzzled many around the court. Even if he perhaps found disappointment in the gender of his firstborn, his commitment to avoid his wife and child surpassed all levels of understanding; whispers began to spread of all sorts, most showing support to the beloved lady than to him. Some even said it was for the best; who would want a kinslayer to come near a newborn anyway?

No one could come even close to understand the why of his actions..

He had not been the same since Storm’s End. After his return, while his brother rejoiced and his elders frowned in worry, Aemond found himself numb, cold even, as if the icy winds and gelid rain that accompanied his flight that night had seeped into his bones. He only recalled broken fragments of what had occurred after he flew in pursuit of his nephew; the rattling of the saddle chains against the wind, Valyrian words shouted into the storm he did not remember pronouncing; a feeble, pathetic little fireball blown into Vhagar’s eyes, not doing more harm than a pebble would against the mountain. The horrific crunch of Arrax’s bones under ferocious jaws, as whatever remained of him and his rider floated down towards the restless sea.

The horrifying knowledge that his actions had caused the death of not one, but two boys.

After that, he shut himself more, if possible. He refused to see anyone, spending days and nights alone in his chambers, permitting only the presence of a servant to bring him his meals and news from the outside, isolated like a common prisoner. He abandoned his marital chamber, moving instead to the ones once meant for his wife; connected by a door he kept permanently locked and blocked.

His mother attempted to coax him out with gentle words and his grandsire with stern reproaches. You knocked on his door at nights, softly whispering his name, almost like a plea. He saw your shadow under the door, pacing or sitting on the floor against it, waiting for something to happen, to at least receive a word of acknowledgement; but night after night your hopes crumbled into dust, and soon you gave up. There’s no helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped

Yet a flicker remained, that the ice would melt with the fire of newborn life. That the cries of their so awaited child would break the trance Aemond had submerged into and return him to his senses.

He opened his door that day, yes, but only with the intention to flee.

And now, without warning or explanation, he showed up in the dead of the night, hidden by darkness like a lowly criminal, pushed by some unknown force to finally hold the being that had changed his status from man to father.

You sat with your hands on your lap, patiently awaiting for an explanation. Yet Aemond didn’t move, nor spared you a second glance; his whole focus on Daenys. His eye fixed on her soft features, arms protectively around her, holding her with dexterity you did not yet possess, but he had acquired with his little brother and his niece and nephews. One arm around the body, the other under, lithe finger cradling her head and gently caressing the silvery hair. Even in the dark, you could see the enthrallment in his gaze. The fearsome warrior Prince, wrapped around Daenys’ minuscule finger

“Husband?” You called out softly, trying to attract his attention

“I heard her cry” He replied, his thumb brushing across Daenys’ cheek “Whenever she cries I hear her from my chamber. You always tend to her so quickly, almost as if you awake before she makes a sound” You blinked fast, perplexed. You never imagined he could hear from his chambers, but again, Daenys had a pair of lungs that could be heard from across the city if you wanted to.

“But she cried and cried tonight, and nothing happened. I thought you could not settle her, but I didn’t hear your voice like when you speak or sing to her. So I came”

You wanted to be embarrassed that he had heard that too, but instead focused more on the fact that if Aemond knew all of that, he lingered at the door whenever their daughter cried, wishing to know what was happening with her. For a moment you imagined him with his ear pressed to the wood, holding in his breath to not miss a sound.

“She kicks a lot when she cries” He commented “I thought she wanted to be fed, or was cold. But you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, and I-” He swallowed before continuing, His index traced the baby’s features, from the roundness of the cheeks to the sharpness of the nose, a perfect match of his own.

“I took her in my arms and she settled. I suppose she didn’t want to be alone”

His voice held amusement. As if he could not believe his daughter, his own blood, could find comfort in his embrace. He had expected her to kick and scream and alert the world that a monster had come for her. But she didn’t. She just snuggled close to him and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the safety of her dad’s arms.

You felt your heart ache for him, as you finally began to comprehend some things. The why of Aemond’s distance. He had killed a boy. His bastard nephew, and the object of his ire, but a boy nonetheless. Because of that, Jaehaerys had been lost. And now he feared something similar would find his girl, for it seemed that a path of tragedy and blood followed his every step and dragged those close to him into the same fate.

You stood, not without difficulty, and moved to stand behind him, one hand on his shoulder. He shifted position, holding Daenys on one arm and holding your hand with the other, thumb caressing your knuckles. They remained in silence, both staring at the fruit of their love with adoration only a first time parent can conjure.

“She’s beautiful” He whispered “Gevie hae se hūra”

You only understood ‘gevie’, and that sufficed to make you smile. You leaned down until your chin rested atop Aemond’s shoulder, cheeks pressed against each other “She’s perfect. And she looks so much like you”

“Only the good parts” He replied, almost a bit harshly, the mere notion of his daughter resembling him setting him off. But soon he relaxed as Daenys stirred, mouth open in a quiet yawn which left her tongue trapped between her lips.

“She will be the best of us” You commented, your arms coming under his own to hold her. To hold them both; Aemond needed your support as much as the babe did. Right there, maybe even more.

“I will hurt her” He whispered, barely audible, his grip on Daenys tightening as he leaned down, his forehead against hers as he closed his eye. “If something bad happens to her, it will be on me”

“You would never” You rushed to reply, a coil tightening in your throat. How could Aemond think such a thing? He could never. You knew it. You knew it from the moment you saw him with the child in his arms, that he would burn down the entire country to safekeep that little girl

“Directly or indirectly, but I am dangerous for her. I’m not worthy of her” Sorrow laced his words, a sentiment foreign to your husband, who always held his emotions carefully and kept them well hidden under a mask of serene indifference. Seeing his vulnerabilities surface felt wrong, as if you had witnessed something private, a crack in the surface of an indomitable mountain. But he had no privacies with you; you were his wife, and you were meant to know him whole.

You moved to crouch before him, hands cradling his face and forcing him to meet your firm gaze “You are her father. The Gods blessed us with this gift because they deemed us worthy of her. And I know you won’t let anyone touch a single hair in her head, because they will be ash and dust before they can even get close” This time, you flattened your forehead against his, never letting go of him “You are worthy of this. Of her. You are worthy of good things”

His eye closed and he leaned into you, your bodies together shielding Daenys, keeping her warm. You two remained there for who knows how long, in silence, holding each other again after so long apart. It was him who broke the spell, his hand coming to circle your waist

“Let’s put her to sleep” He replied in a soft whisper “And then I’d like to sleep in your bed, if my lady wife will have me tonight”

You smiled without meaning to, feeling his warmth spread over you

“Tonight and every night. All the nights you want”

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x wife #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #marsie writes

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saintflint · 3 months

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helaena c. moon | black sails xxvii, xxviii.

#this isn’t original but i don’t care. i miss them.#black sails #creations #(*)

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tamurakafkaposts · 5 months

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“I have felt your oceans, moving inside my bones.”

— Helaena C Moon

#tamurakafkaposts #selfportret #transilvanya #photographers on tumblr #artnude

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bokatan · 11 months

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musings on sole survivor reed

george santayana / user universeofchaos / user undivinehound / user bodegoods / rachel lauren creeking / yves olade bloodsport / helaena c moon / unknown / mitski cop car / margaret atwood the blind assassin / ig @/teenymalinois / margaret atwood / richard siken little beast / endlessredproductions this light / volpin props AER9 / user seravph /

#bo.txt #reed tag #reed info #fallout oc #sole survivor #web weaving #reedcore

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fanficapologist · 4 months

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Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

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

Chapter Fifty-Nine

“No. No, that cannot be right.”

As the news of her pregnancy sank in, Maera's initial shock gave way to a sense of denial, almost as if she were trying to resist the reality of the situation. Uncertainty clouded her features, and her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The ongoing war cast a dark shadow over her thoughts, and the unsettling prophecies of Helaena added an additional layer of worry.

The specter of death in childbirth loomed large, a heavy concern that intertwined with the complexities of the world around her. In the midst of this emotional whirlwind, Maera found herself grappling with the profound implications of bringing a child into such turbulent times.

The maester maintained his composure and explained, “I am quite certain, Princess. The babe will likely arrive in seven moons.”

Maera, still grappling with the revelation, attempted to find reason. “But what about the bleeding?” she asked, standing up from the bed.

Maester Orwyle reassured her, “Sometimes, when a babe is forming in the womb and nestles into its place, it can cause some bleeding. It is usually nothing to worry about, but I will monitor it closely to ensure your health and the babe’s.”

Despite the Maester's reassurance, Maera found her mind continuing to race with anxious thoughts. As she rose from the examination bed, she couldn't help but pick at the golden and sapphire ring on her left hand, something precious that Aemond had previously gifted her.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Maera took in the image reflected back at her. Her hair, dark brown with the distinctive silver streak, was braided and adorned with a golden headpiece. Widened green eyes stared back, framed by the mourning attire she wore—a black dress with embroidered golden dragons on the collar. She contemplated how her body might change as the pregnancy developed, adding another layer to the uncertainty that had taken hold.

A sobering thought crossed Maera's mind as she processed the news of her pregnancy. While the birth of a new child into House Targaryen would typically be celebrated as a blessing, the recent tragedies weighed heavily on her. The brutal murder of four-year-old Jaehaerys and Helaena's heartbreaking loss had cast a somber pallor over the household. In the wake of such sorrow, Maera couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time for the joyous news of a new life to be shared. The timing seemed almost cruel against the backdrop of recent events, adding a layer of complexity to the emotions surrounding the revelation.

Turning to the maester, Maera expressed, "Tomorrow is Jaehaerys' funeral, and news of a new baby would be a massive blow to the Queen. Can I count on your discretion until at least after the funeral?"

The maester nodded understandingly and replied, "You have my word, Princess. However, you should consider informing your husband as soon as possible." Maera nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the wisdom in involving Aemond before anyone else. The weight of both grief and unexpected joy pressed upon her as she contemplated the delicate balance she needed to maintain during such trying times.

After leaving the Maester's rooms, Maera chose to avoid her own chambers, finding solace in the temporary refuge of denial. Facing Aemond would mean confronting the reality of the pregnancy, a reality she wished to postpone just a little while longer. Instead, she sought out Helaena's chambers, longing for the comfort of her friend's presence. However, her attempt to enter was thwarted by the vigilant guards, denying her access as Helaena was still not accepting visitors. Desperation to see her friend warred with the understanding that Helaena's mind remained deeply troubled, leaving Maera caught between a longing for connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Attempting to seek comfort in another manner, Maera hesitated to face the Grand Sept, haunted by the painful reminders of little Jaehaerys and Helaena's unborn child. Opting for a more intimate space, she made her way to the smaller Royal Sept, situated across the courtyard from the stables. In contrast to the grandeur of the main Sept, this smaller place of worship exuded a humble tranquility. Marble altars dedicated to each of the Seven Gods adorned the space, enveloped in the comforting scent of incense and the flickering glow of numerous candles. Kneeling before a small statue of the Mother, Maera sought solace in prayer as her mind began reeling with troubling and worrying thoughts.

Closing her verdant eyes, Maera pleaded for guidance and mercy as she grappled with the unexpected news. In the sacred silence of the Royal Sept, her thoughts unraveled like fragile threads. The looming prospect and expectation of delivering a son to further the Targaryen legacy, felt like an unspoken demand echoing through the corridors of her thoughts.

Her body, once a vessel of her own, now became a subject of scrutiny, a canvas on which the eyes of the court would fixate and criticise. In the hallowed silence, Maera’s thoughts involuntarily turned to the woman whose memory lingered as both a beacon and a phantom—her mother, Lady Gael. In the solitude of prayer, Maera silently wondered how Lady Gael navigated the complexities of carrying an heir. Her mother had weathered the trials of three pregnancies, the final one claiming her life. The untold tales of Lady Gael's experiences, the joys, and perhaps the fears, now hung in the air like a sacred whisper.

“Maera?” A voice echoed in the sacred space. Turning slowly, she found herself facing her mother-in-law, the Dowager Queen.

Alicent, clad in black mourning attire adorned with deep green detailing, stood before Maera with a demeanor of surprise. Her auburn hair was meticulously pinned atop her head, veiled as if to shield her grief. Brown eyes widened as they met Maera's, forming a silent connection in the quiet expanse of the sept.

As Maera rose from her prayer, the weight of her recent news settled heavily on her shoulders. Without conscious thought, she moved swiftly toward Alicent, her steps a mixture of fear and confusion. Abruptly reaching out, Maera initiated a desperate hug, as if seeking refuge from the storm of emotions within.

In that moment, vulnerability painted across Maera's face, she didn't disclose the cause of her turmoil. Alicent, perceptive to the unspoken distress, responded after a moment with a tender embrace. Though it wasn't the exact solace Maera had yearned for, the warmth of Alicent's arms provided a lifeline through the turbulent sea of emotions that defined the remainder of that challenging day.

After another prayer shared with Alicent and a brief apology for her emotional outburst, Maera resorted to yet another tactic of evasion. Seeking refuge in her father's quarters, she requested to dine with him, a request Lord Jasper willingly granted.

As they sat at the dining table, Maera played with the food on her plate using her fork, her gaze fixed on her father. She abstained from consuming a single mouthful, her mind preoccupied. Lord Jasper, with his distinguished appearance—dark hair and piercing grey-green eyes—engaged in lively discourse about his duties as the Master of Laws. Despite his animated prattle, Maera's attention wavered, consumed by thoughts she struggled to voice.

Observing Maera's distracted demeanor, Lord Jasper tactfully shifted the conversation, taking a mouthful of potatoes before saying, “You know, I have received a number of letters from our House via raven over the last few weeks.”

This piqued Maera’s interest, and she looked up from her plate. “What news do they bring?” she inquired.

Lord Jasper, sensing her need for a lighter topic, smiled and replied, “Well, your eldest brother, Guston, wrote. Seems his new baby girl is thriving. He also mentioned that he is completely wrapped around her little finger.”

A chuckle escaped Maera’s lips. “Really? I thought Guston wanted another son.”

Lord Jasper nodded, sipping his wine. “Indeed, he did. But you know how it goes. Daughters have a way with their fathers when they’re tiny and cute.”

As Lord Jasper shared more family news, Maera sipped chamomile tea from a nearby cup, absorbing the updates. Her father mentioned, "Cedric has been officially invited to the Citadel to train as a Maester."

A bright smile lit up Maera's face. "That's wonderful news, Father. I am sure he'll make us proud."

Lord Jasper nodded, expressing gratitude to the Gods. "Yes, thank the Gods. It is a way for him to honor House Wylde. I had low hopes for him with his quiet nature, but this opportunity is a blessing."

Sensing her father's veiled criticism, Maera cleared her throat, silently conveying her disapproval of bashing her brother. Lord Jasper, understanding the unspoken message, shifted the conversation. Taking a sip of his wine, he continued, "Dermot sent his congratulations for your wedding and expressed concerns about the war with Princess Rhaenyra. He stated if he could offer aid, he would, but I am unsure how he would plan on doing that." Maera nodded, a hint of discomfort crossing her features at the mention of the impending war.

Lord Jasper, picking up on the pause, smoothly transitioned to a more neutral topic, “And it seems our family to be blessed with more weddings very soon.”

“Oh?” Maera replied intriguingly, leaning in, prompting Lord Jasper to reveal further news.

“Gwyn is now betrothed to the younger sister of Lord Edwin of Tarth.” Maera cocked her head, absorbing the information. Lord Jasper elaborated, “It’s a strategic match, further allying Tarth to the Greens cause.”

Nodding in understanding, Maera encouraged him to continue. Lord Jasper revealed, “Luthor has now been matched with Lady Cassandra of House Baratheon. He will soon depart from Rain House to wed her and will remain at Storm’s End during his marriage.”

A smile played on Maera’s lips. “I hope Luthor finds happiness in his match to her,” she remarked, genuinely wishing well for her older brother.

Lord Jasper continued, "Happy or not, Luthor will do his duty, and produce as many heirs as possible."

The mention of heirs rekindled nerves within Maera, a silent reminder of her own pregnancy. Lost in her thoughts, she went quiet, unknowingly prompting her father to share more. Lord Jasper revealed, "Lord Borros still lacks an heir. If Luthor and Lady Cassandra were to produce a boy, the child could be named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Maera, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood abruptly, the sound of cutlery jingling as she knocked against the wooden table. Lord Jasper, concerned, asked, "Are you well, daughter?"

Claiming to have lost track of time, Maera stated, "I should return to my chambers." With a polite bid for a good night, she departed, the urgency of the impending conversation with Aemond now impossible to ignore. She knew she would have to face the reality of her pregnancy and share the news with her husband, a task that seemed daunting in the wake of the recent emotionally turbulent events.

As Maera stepped into the chamber, the familiar sight transformed into an unsettling tableau. Shadows clung to the edges, rendering corners obscure and accentuating the silence that hung in the air like a heavy veil. The eerie quiet heightened Maera's awareness, each footstep echoing with a gravity that matched the weight of the news she was about to share.

The unlit candles, their wicks whispering traces of smoke, stood as silent witnesses to the unspoken tension within the chamber. It was a stark departure from the usual ambiance, setting the stage for a conversation that promised to alter the very fabric of their shared existence. And yet Maera knew only one reason why the room would be this dark and quiet so early into the night- Aemond was struggling with his lost eye, the throbbing and piercing pain of it being dulled by the darkness and silence.

With the subtle chime of a bell, Maera's maid, Thena, materialized in the quiet chamber, ready to attend to the princess for the evening. The room, shrouded in a solemn atmosphere, seemed to come to life as Thena approached her duties. With practiced hands, the maid delicately removed her golden headpiece and unpinned Maera's hair from its intricate updo. Cascading in a blend of brown and a striking silver streak, the locks tumbled down, framing Maera's face. Next, Thena carefully unlaced Maera's dress, the fabric surrendering and pooling at her feet. Left in her shift after Thena's assistance, Maera dismissed her maid with gratitude.

Alone in the quiet chamber, she approached the four-poster bed, revealing the figure of her silver-haired husband beneath the covers. Aemond lay on his side, the moonlight outlining his toned arms and torso. Silver strands of hair glinted in the dimness, and the brief silhouette of his jaw hinted at his rugged charm. In the darkness, Maera discerned that his eyepatch and the sapphire usually nestled in his eye socket, had been placed in a golden dish on the bedside table.

As Maera removed her shift, she revealed herself entirely, a curvaceous silhouette in the moonlit room. Aemond, a man who favored the intimacy of constant skin-on-skin contact, had an aversion to her wearing clothing during sleep. It brought a sense of vulnerability, to be so bare before one another consistently. Maera knew her husband was not a man of many romantic gestures or poetic words of devotion, yet she knew being able to feel each other brought him great comfort, as it did her.

With a deliberate gentleness, Maera lifted the sheets and slid into bed, ensuring minimal disturbance to Aemond's rest. The weight of the impending revelation about her pregnancy could wait until the morning. As she lay back, head touching the pillow, preparing to close her eyes, she sensed a subtle movement behind her. Maera felt his warm torso press against her back, one arm sliding under her pillow and another snaking around her waist, pulling her closer.

In the hushed tones of sleep coating his voice, Aemond gently spoke to her. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

Consumed by her own thoughts and reluctant to burden him with her news, Maera kept her response brief. “I had duties to attend to, my Prince.”

A hum was Aemond’s only response. Molding his body to hers like a warm cocoon, he offered a silent reassurance. Attuned to her tension, began to run his fingers up and down her bare arm, eliciting subtle goosebumps. Maera, appreciating the comfort, found solace in the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the warmth that encapsulated her.

After a moment, he spoke again, “I assume all is well? After your visit to the Maester?”

Not wanting to disclose the news of her pregnancy just yet, Maera simply replied, “Mm-hmm.” Before Aemond could delve further, she redirected the conversation, asking, “How is your head?”

Aemond, propping himself up on his elbow, allowed the sheet to slide further down his toned torso as he continued the rhythmic motion of running his fingers up and down Maera's bare arm. A subtle smile graced her face, a silent acknowledgment of the comforting touch.

Leaning down, Aemond whispered into her ear with a seductive edge, his warm breath sending a shudder down her spine,“It is better now that you have returned to our bed.” With gentle care, he moved a strand of her brown hair and pressed a light kiss to the delicate shell of her ear.

The Prince’s lips then descended and pressed firmer to just at the start of her neck, a small smile gracing her face at the feeling. Where her neck met her shoulder, Aemond’s kisses became wetter and more urgent, sucking on the skin so it began to to turn a pale shade of purple. Maera revelled in the feeling, her body reacting on its own as she tilted head back against his shoulder to allow him greater access.

She could feel that familiar ache in her core as he nipped and licked at her shoulder, desperate to forget about the news she had been told and wanted to surrender to the pleasure her husband could give her. Maera’s could feel his now hardened cock digging into her backside and experimentally titled and rolled her hips into him, causing a gasp to leave both of their mouths.

Aemond emitted a silent chuckle before the hand on her arm disappeared beneath the sheets, and made its way to her breast, kneading the flesh and pinching the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation had Maera rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to find some relief, a noticeable slick of arousal starting to form.

She almost scolded Aemond when he removed his hand from her hardened peak, only for it to drift south and press flat against her stomach. A kiss onto Maera’s shoulder turned into another bite, causing her to gasp once again and arch her back into him. Aemond took full advantage of this, grinding against her once more, harder this time, his cock now slipping between her legs.

Her body was aching with desire, so she began to rock back against him, his length gathering her slick as it glided between her folds. A sleepy moan left the Prince’s lips as he slid the hand on her stomach to rest firmly on her hip, grasping at it as he matched her grinding, a rhythm becoming established. The tip of his cock brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves, a squeak leaving Maera’s lips as a blush began to coat her cheeks.

Seemingly done with torturing her, Maera felt Aemond grab his length and line it up with her now dripping entrance. Once in place, his hand returned to her hip, and with a swift movement, he pushed himself entirely inside her, a low rumble leaving his chest as he did. The stretch she felt from his cock at this angle was incredible, the familiar sensation of pleasure beginning to bloom as she felt every part of his length nudging against her walls.

Aemond pulled out slowly before immediately thrusting back in, filling her to the hilt, the fingers on her hip digging in so harshly that they were sure to leave bruises. Maera could not help but cry out as his cock hit that spongey spot within her over and over again, the sensation causing her to throw her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed and jaws slack as she completely surrendered to him, as she always did.

The fucking was deep definitely, thanks to his generously sized manhood, but it was not the usual hard fast pace that Maera was used to. It was slow, steady, almost sensual if you could call it that. It was the type of sex that the poets wrote about; to feel completely at one with the other person, to be so in tune with them that your connection goes beyond mere words. It was beautiful, and although not her preferred type of fucking, it just what she needed at this time.

She was snapped back to the moment when she felt Aemond’s hand move from her hip and dip between her thighs as he continued to thrust deeply into her. The Prince’s long, skilled fingers quickly found her pearl, and began swirling gently around it, causing her to cry out as pleasure began to build in the pit of her stomach. The intensity of the feeling grew as Aemond continued his ministrations and Maera rocked desperately against him, chasing her high. She felt his sweat-covered forehead press against her shoulder, the sound of sighs and soft groans leaving his lips filling her with a sense of pride and excitement.

As the coil wound tighter and tighter in her stomach, her hips began to stutter in their movements, causing Aemond to thrust upwards with greater intensity. After hitting the sensitive spot within her once more, the coil finally snapped with her, causing her to cry out in ecstasy as he fucked her through her peak, her own arousal coating her inner thighs, his cock and his skilled fingers that continued to rub against her bundle of nerves.

The Prince found his release shortly after, letting out a low, contented groan as he spilled his seed within her, ropes of hot white liquid painting the inside of her walls. After a moment of basking in the afterglow of sex, their ragged breaths of exhaustion beginning to slow, Maera felt her chin being grasped by Aemond’s thumb and forefinger. He slowly turned her head and captured her lips on a searing his, their mouths moving in tandem and hearts racing as the fuzzy warmth of pleasure encapsulated them both.

When he pulled away from the kiss, Aemond withdrew his cock, a hiss leaving Maera’s lips as she felt him pull out, a mixture of his seed and her own slick now coating the sheet beneath them. Aemond lay on his back and Maera followed suit, lying flat against the mattress as her bare breasts moved up and down as she took some steadying breaths. She turned her head to look at her husband with a soft smile, who also seemed to be recovering from their passionate encounter, a sheen of sweating covering his body.

With a gentle gesture, she lifted her arm and coaxed him toward her. “Come here,” she whispered gently. Aemond, his furrowed brow revealing a hint of confusion, hesitated. Maera spome once more, a sterner yet playful edge to her voice. “Do not make your Princess ask you again.” After a brief pause, Aemond relented, laying his head against her chest and allowing his hand to come up and cup her breast, causing her to giggle.

As she pressed her nose to his silver head, the scent of leather and dragon smoke, formed a sensory tapestry that spoke of familiarity, comfort, and shared history. In this intimate moment, every worry, including the weight of her pregnancy news, seemed to momentarily dissolve. And Maera was able to recognise a profound connection—one that extended beyond the complexities of royalty, duty, and impending challenges. The rare sight of Aemond laying his head on her chest, exposed a side of the prince not known to anyone else. It stirred a deep affection within Maera, an affection she remembered she had for him when they were young.

She marveled at the strength and warmth emanating from him, and the realization of what she felt for Aemond dawned upon her. This marriage was not merely duty, their past, or even just the lust they shared for each other, but a genuine and profound love. Maera was aware that this made her entirely vulnerable to him, but in this moment she did not care.

Tomorrow's concerns—the looming funeral, the war, her pregnancy, the vulnerability of her affections —all faded into insignificance. In the quiet of the present, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Aemond against her, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, and the simple joy of holding each other. It was a moment suspended in time, where the weight of the world momentarily lifted, allowing them to find solace as they were both pulled into sleep.

Notes: Fuck me, I find smut so challenging to write. After editing it so much, it’s not even sexy to me anymore 😅 oh well, I hope y’all enjoy it at least 🖤

Tags: @abecerra611 @blue-serendipity @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #chapters

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horizon-verizon · 23 days

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Alicent being praised for scolding Aegon after he raped Dyana is wild to me because she admits that it’s not the first time he’s done this. She’s only making a big deal about it because Rhaenyra is in town and they’re under scrutiny and because Dyana attends to Helaena and her children.

So yes she didn’t have Dyana killed (the bar is below hell at this point...) but what about the girls who came before her ? Ones that weren’t maids close to the family... what happened to them ? Alicent isn’t shocked, astonished or horrified, she literally had hush money and moon tea ready and waiting like it’s a regular affair in the Red Keep. “Think of the shame on your wife, on me”, her son raped & destroyed a teenage girl, and she make it all about herself, her family, their reputation.

With Dyana come back in season 2, I can clearly see how she might have a hand in B&C... she knows Alicent is a fake religious hypocrite who willingly covers up her son’s vicious crimes and shows complete disregard for his victims, who made him king and gave him unlimited power despite knowing exactly what kind of man he is, and Dyana probably knows about the child fight clubs. Alicent and Aegon abuse lowborn women & children. It makes sense she’d want revenge on the family.

Dyana probably knows about the child fight clubs.

Idk about that. but like I said in other asks about Dyana, I wouldn't hold it too tight against her if she somehow helped B&C to hurt any peorsn especially close to Alicent or Aegon. But we don't know yet if she will be present or even if she will know for sure that those kids would be the targets/B&C's directions were for them. If it happens, I think the writers will make it so that Dyana doesn't know and lets them pass and even points them the way when they happen to see her. Or she pretends not to see them, or just not report them if she sees them and they don't see her. Because I don't think they'll go the route of her flagrantly trying to get these kids killed since that contradicts the heavy anti-war/violence here, but who knows. We shall see. They could make an exception to lay a consequence on the greens and use Dyana's non-aristocratic status to further highlight how the greens/the blacks' noble civil war is going to and has already harmed the peasant class.

#hotd episode 8 #asoiaf asks to me #dyana #alicent's characterization #alicent hightower #hotd characterization

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shadowedaiartistry · 6 months

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"... how to haunt"

#https://shadowedaiartistry.tumblr.com/#shadowedaiartistry #image set #ghostly #haunting #darkly inclined #Helaena C Moon

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x-heesy · 1 year

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#wisdoom 💀

“I keep very very silent. Because death waits in the silence. And I long to follow it.” — Helaena C Moon

𝗣𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝝠 𝗠𝗬𝗧𝗛 / 𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝝠 𝗧𝗥𝝠𝗣 / 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝝠𝗞 𝗙𝗥𝗘𝗘 / 𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝝝𝗡 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 / 𝗖𝗛𝝝𝝝𝗦𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗬 / 𝗪𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗗 𝗜𝗦 𝝠 𝗖𝝝𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 / 𝗡𝝝𝗧𝗘 𝗧𝝝 𝗠𝗬𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 / 𝗬𝝝𝗨 𝝠𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝝝𝝠𝗗 /𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦𝝠𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗕𝗜𝗚𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 / 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗗𝝝 / 𝗟𝝝𝗩𝗘 & 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝝝𝗩𝗘 / 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 & 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 / 𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗜𝗧 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘 / 𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗜𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝝠𝗟 / 𝗩𝗘𝗧𝝝 / 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧 / 𝗠𝝝𝝝𝗗 𝗕𝝝𝝠𝗥𝗗 /𝗣𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗦𝝠𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗗𝗘𝝠𝗗 / 𝗡𝝝 𝗚𝝝𝗗𝗦 𝗡𝝝 𝗠𝝠𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 / 𝗣𝗥𝝝 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘 𝗠𝗙𝗭 / 𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗬𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥𝗭 𝗡𝝝𝗧 𝗪𝗘𝗟(𝗟) 𝗖𝗨𝗠 / 𝗧𝝝 𝝠𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝝠 𝗟𝗨𝗩𝝠𝗭

#justanfriendlyreminder 💡

#thelittlethingsarethebigthings

#autosuggestion #pointofview #codingyourself #programyourself #endlessness #creatingyourself #neverstoplearning

#fantasy #empathy #equality #respect #love #basics

#textart #artfulquotes #typography #expressyourself #iphoneart #newcontemporary #popart #artsyfartsy #artfuckery

#quotes #quotesdaily #quotestoliveby #quotestagram #quotesaboutlife #quotesoftheday #quotestags #quotesgram #motivationalquotes #quotesandsayings #quoteslover #quotesofinstagram #quotesforlife #quotestoinspire #quotestoremember #quotestag #quotesilove #inspirationalquotes #lovequotes @darksilenceinsuburbiareloaded @frenchpsychiatrymuderedmycnut #quotesaboutlifequotesandsayings #successquotes #dailyquotes #lifequotes #quotesforyou #positivequotes #quotes4you #quotesaboutlove #instaquotes #quoteslife #quoteslove #qotd

Soundtrack: Hell Is Round The Corner by Tricky &

Kreatur der Nacht (feat. Isolation Berlin) by Solomun, (creature of the night)

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artiste85 · 1 month

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Helaena C Moon

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emiliehaunted · 2 years

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"It has been like a symphony of shadows inside my heart. And there is nothing in all of the world that can save me" (@helaena.c.moon) - Ph: Onix Edition: @emiliehaunted Models: @p4nt0cr4t0r4 & @emiliehaunted

#emiliehaunted #helaena c. moon #dark photography #photography #gothic #goth #witches of tumblr #witchcraft #witch #bpd #borderline #magick

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duxbelisarius · 1 year

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The Dance of the Dragons: A Military Analysis (Pt. 3)

As I stated in Pt. 2, airpower had a limited effect upon the outcome of the Dance, and this can be attributed to George’s decision to have the Dance mark the end of dragons as a force in Westeros. This meant that most if not all the dragons would need to be dead by the end, and so precluded one side’s dragons from establishing supremacy over the other’s. Moreover, the use of dragons by the Blacks and Greens left much to be desired, and suffered from the same inconsistencies that I laid out in parts 1 and 2 of this series.

The Greens began the Dance with four combat-capable dragons in Vhagar, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre and Tessarion, against the Blacks’ six (Caraxes, Syrax, Meleys, Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes). Each side lost a dragon before the fighting began, with Arrax and Prince Lucerys dying over Storm’s End and Dreamfyre being left riderless thanks to Helaena’s descent into depression following the death of her son. Rhaenys and Meleys were both killed at Rook’s Rest, while Aegon II and Sunfyre were severely injured there and took no more part in the battles of the Dance. When Joffrey Velaryon and Tyraxes were sent to the Vale to support Lady Jeyne Arryn, the Greens and Blacks were left with two and three combat-capable dragons respectively; this near-parity vanished with the ‘Red Sowing,’ which saw four dragons claimed by dragonriders on Dragonstone, at the behest of Prince Jacaerys. Addam of Hull claimed Seasmoke, Ulf the White claimed Silverwing, Nettles claimed the wild dragon Sheepstealer and Hugh the Hammer claimed Vermithor, the largest dragon after Vhagar. Even with the death of Jacaerys and Vermax at the Gullet, the period from the beginning of 130 AC to the First Battle of Tumbleton saw the Blacks in possession of six dragons to the Greens two (seven with the return of Joffrey Velaryon), a superiority made even greater by the fact that the Greens dragons were in two separate theaters (Vhagar in the Riverlands, Tessarion in the Reach). The betrayal of Ulf and Hugh at First Tumbleton narrowed the deficit to four against five, but both factions rapidly lost their dragons after this.

Before analyzing how dragons were used in the Dance, we first need to asses their flight and what it enabled dragonriders to do in terms of influencing events on the ground and at sea. We’re never told how fast dragons can fly in any of George’s books, but there are some clues that we can use; using Aegon I’s flight to Dragonstone upon reading the Dornish Letter in Fire & Blood, reddit user /u/AdelKonig calculates a 50 mph flight speed for Balerion in getting from King’s Landing to Dragonstone and back in less than a day, with 35 mph also being a reasonable estimate.

This is useful for establishing timelines of events throughout the Dance; while the Dance officially began with Viserys’ death on 3rd day of the 3rd moon of 129 AC (March 3rd by our calendar), open hostilities did not begin until after the deaths of Prince Lucerys Velaryon and Jaehaerys Targaryen (House of the Dragon claims it was Lucerys’ death only). Using the estimates of dragon flight speed and distances within Westeros (the latter made possible by Atlas of Ice and Fire’s excellent distance map of Westeros), we arrive at a period of just over a month between Viserys’ death and the outbreak of hostilities. Aegon and Rhaenyra were crowned on the 10th and 11th of the 3rd Moon respectively, while Lucerys departed Dragonstone after his mother’s coronation. Travelling c. 400 miles to Storm’s End at 35 mph would take c. 12 hours, likely longer given Luke’s inexperience, how young Arrax was, and the notorious weather of the Stormlands. Lucerys would have arrived on the 12-13th, and the remains of Arrax were found three days later, while Rhaenyra’s revenge plan only began when Daemon suggested it via raven from Harrenhal (wild ravens can cover 100 miles in a day under exceptional circumstances). Allowing time for the planning of Prince Jaehaerys’ murder, and acknowledging that 15 days passed between the Prince’s murder and the execution of Blood, a month or so after Viserys’ death is a reasonable estimate.

Having established the speed with which dragons were able to operate, we must now analyze how effectively they were used in combat. Outside of Daemon’s seizing of Harrenhal and brief appearance at Stone Hedge, along with Rhaenys’ participating in the blockade of the Gullet, there were only a few cases in which dragons cooperated with the armed forces of either faction. Rook’s Rest; the Battle of the Gullet; Aemond’s campaign in the Riverlands; the Reach campaign from the Honeywine to Second Tumbleton; and Rhaenyra’s capture of King’s Landing.

The Rook’s Rest campaign is striking in how underutilized the dragons were; despite the objective of the campaign being to force the submission of those Crownlands houses that declared for Rhaenyra, neither Vhagar nor Sunfyre was used to this effect (despite Vhagar having done so during Aegon’s Conquest). Vhagar and Sunfyre’s presence at Rook’s Rest is also significant, as it left King’s Landing without protection from the Blacks own dragons (absent Caraxes, there were still four available); that Aegon and Aemond managed to ambush Rhaenys and Meleys also suggests that despite Daemon and Mysaria’s extensive web of spies in the city, the Blacks were somehow unaware that the largest dragon in the world AND the Green king’s own dragon were missing from the city.

The Battle of the Gullet shows further sub-optimal use of Dragons, and also raises questions about tactics for combating them. The Triarchy takes the Blacks by surprise despite the amount of ships at Rhaenyra’s disposal, the six dragons under her command including her own, the early warning received from Aegon the Younger, and the fact that security should have been high around Driftmark and Dragonstone given that Jace and Corlys were planning an attack on King’s Landing. That Jace attacks the Triarchy fleet alone at first could be explained by the Blacks being surprised by the attack, though more surprising still is the survival of a third of the Triarchy’s fleet despite the number of dragons opposing them. There are no indications that the Triarchy developed tactics for dealing with dragonriders, despite having fought against Daemon and Caraxes for 5 years in the Stepstones (106-111 AC). We know from the visits of Jace, Jaehaerys and Alysanne to the North that dragons dislike the cold and damp, and rain somewhat dampened the fires of Balerion during Maegor’s battle with the Faith Militant at the Great Fork, thus attacking in inclement weather could mitigate the effectiveness of dragons. This would be risky for the ships involved, as would attacking at night or in low-light conditions in general, though this would hamper the dragons by forcing their riders to fly and fight in the darkness. Firing volleys of missiles en masse would keep the dragons at a safe distance owing to the risk to their riders, and the potential injuries to smaller dragons like Vermax, Seasmoke and Sheepstealer, but only Vermax is lost and likely as a result of a grapnel.

The Dance from the Gullet to First Tumbleton marks the zenith of the Blacks’ airpower, after Aemond and Criston Cole leave King’s Landing undefended in their march on Harrenhal. The Blacks seize King’s Landing in a coup de main employing all of their dragons (Syrax, Caraxes, Seasmoke, Sheepstealer, Vermithor and Silverwing), assisted by Daemon’s supporters in the city. Great though this victory was, the Blacks missed an opportunity to destroy Aemond and Cole’s army. The forces raised by the Riverlords for Rhaenyra are larger than even George probably realized, while Daemon flies from Harrenhal to King’s Landing undetected; this begs the question as to why the dragonseeds could not have flown to Harrenhal, allowing the Blacks to overwhelm Vhagar with their own dragons, and destroy Cole’s force of 4000. Rhaenyra’s missuse of her dragons continues when she dispatches Daemon and Nettles to hunt down Aemond, while Hugh and Ulf are sent to Tumbleton, as these four riders should have been more than enough to defeat Daeron and Ormund at Tumbleton, dealing with Aemond afterwards. While this choice is justifiable narratively based on Rhaenyra’s questionable leadership, the fact still remains that the Blacks fail miserably to exploit their superiority in dragons to decisive effect.

Aemond’s campaign in the Riverlands is marred by the same sub-optimal use of dragons that plagues the Blacks, made worse by the fact that Vhagar’s size and lethality should have a far-reaching affect on the Dance. When Criston Cole marches on Harrenhal, Vhagar takes no part in the battles fought by his vanguard against the Riverlords, instead covering the main column and arriving at Harrenhal a day after Cole. After the Fall of King’s Landing and the retaking of Harrenhal by the Riverlords, Aemond begins his infamous campaign of destruction against the Riverlands, the effectiveness of which is difficult to judge. Lord Harroway’s Town and Castle Darry are the only major settlements or house seats that Aemond attacked; Lord’s Mill, Blackbuckle, Buckle and Claypool are all mentioned in A Dance with Dragons as being disputed land between the Brackens and Blackwoods, placing them in the western part of the Riverlands near Riverrun; Stonyhead, Sweetwillow and Sallydance are situated near the Mountains of the Moon, the Green Fork and the Red respectively; and another nine settlements or locations are unmentioned in George’s work outside F&B and The Princess and the Queen. This makes it impossible to assess the damage done by Aemond’s attacks, beyond Gyldan’s claim that “half the riverlands seemed ablaze.”

While many of Aemond’s questionable decisions in the Dance could simply be chalked up to his anger and fiery temperament, the fact that such valuable targets as the bridge at The Twins seem to have been unharmed is telling. Striking the seats of major houses like the Freys would result in heavy casualties and force Daemon or Rhaenyra’s other dragonriders to take action, but this would have interfered with the direction of George’s narrative and so he sacrifices towns we’ve never heard of (and likely never will in the main books) while leaving Rhaenyra’s main supporters untouched. Daemon is likewise poorly served by the narrative, as both he and Nettles struggle to locate the largest known living organism in all of Planetos; that Daemon chose Maidenpool as his base of operations, the easternmost seat in all the Riverlands is even more egregious, when a location closer to the Trident and central Riverlands would have required less flying time.

This inexplicable decision-making culminates with the Battle over the God’s Eye: here the two dragonriders ascend above the God’s Eye lake, only for Caraxes to dive down from above and strike Vhagar on her neck. As the sun was near setting, we should expect that a look up from Aemond would allow him to see the sky above without the sun blinding him, while Gyldan tells us that the glare of the sun off the lake covered his blind spot (NOT his lone eye). Despite facing an enemy apparently incapable of looking up or remembering he was missing an eye, Daemon elects for a suicide attack wherein Caraxes bites Vhagar’s neck and he leaps from his saddle to stab Aemond. Even though Caraxes could easily burn Aemond from above or just rip him apart, and despite still having family alive that would depend on him, Daemon commits suicide because the plot demands it.

Compared to the ignominious failures of the dragonriders mentioned before, Daeron Targaryen’s involvement in the Reach campaign is nothing short of remarkable. Daeron and Tessarion’s intervention in the Battle of the Honeywine, a fortnight after the Battle of the Gullet, single-handedly saves Ormund Hightower’s army from destruction by the Blacks. Tessarion’s threat is instrumental in the submission of the Oakhearts, Rowans and the Shield Isles, though the latter is difficult to understand given that Tessarion’s flames would not have been a danger to castles due to her age, while missile weapons should have been capable of injuring her due to her youth. Gyldan states that Daeron was invaluable to the Hightower army as a scout, alerting Lord Ormund to enemy movements and positions, while the mere presence of Tessarion lead many Black lords to surrender without a fight. We’re lead to believe that after further victories at Bitterbridge and First Tumbleton, Daeron is killed when Addam Velaryon and the Riverlords attack at 2nd Tumbleton. Even if this is the case, a rider-less Tessarion still manages to hold her own against the older Seasmoke, and was crucial in defeating Vermithor once Hugh the Hammer was dead. Being only 15 when the Dance began and 16 when he died, Daeron the Daring was by far the most accomplished of either faction’s dragonriders.

I apologize in advance for how long and ponderous this write-up is, and commend you for reading this far. Needless to say George’s portrayal of dragons and their use in the Dance suffers from much of the same poor-quality writing that I’ve previously analyzed. We’ll begin looking at the ground war in Pt. 4, and that’s when the train will REALLY begin to fall off the tracks.

Feedback is more than welcome; thanks again for reading!

#house of the dragon #hotd #team green #team black #grrm critical #fire and blood critical #asoiaf critical #asoiaf

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aemondslefteyeball · 10 months

Text

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (8)

Masterlist

[Modern!Aemond x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Death, gore, aftermath of animal attacks]

[Summary: Let's gather 'round the campfire and sing our campfire song. Our C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G song!]

Word Count: 4.6K

Chapter 8

Small cursive lettering filled the pages of the journal, and intermittent doodles marked the page, words overflowing around all of it. A discordant look at your inner thoughts, Aemond mused.

Dear Dad,

I met my fiance today and he is the absolute fucking worst. You would have kicked his ass. I wasn’t expecting him to sweep me off my feet but the first fucking thing he did was shove a prenup in my face. Nice to meet you too, asshole.

He couldn’t have been that callous, could he? He had to have given you some form of acknowledgment. Was his first impression that bad? Aemond frowned as he skimmed over the pages, looking for mentions of his name until landing on the next passage.

Dear Dad,

Today has been the worst birthday I’ve ever had. Aemond started my day off by barging into my room at five in the goddamn morning to interrogate me about Sunspear. He apparently saw my post and demanded to know why I was spending “his” money taking vacations. He literally just stood there bitching until I walked into the bathroom. I don’t think it ever occurred to him that I have my own fucking money and my own means of travel. After that the Kazoo preacher was back on the subway screaming about 'the children', and if all that wasn’t enough fucking Jaydee didn’t put the boiling chip into the test tube and it blew up on my goddamn arm. I wanted to take Vaeryx for a quick flight but the wheels were too chewed up after my last landing. Your jacket doesn’t smell like you anymore. I really wish you were here.

Aemond swallowed suddenly. He didn’t even remember doing these things, but the pen marks dug into the page afterward. Another wave of guilt hit him at the realization that he didn’t know when your birthday even was. The journal hadn’t been dated, and he never asked.

Dad,

I got accepted for a summer workshop at Storm’s End Tech!!! If that isn’t exciting enough we’re studying bacteria at the thermal vents off the coast of Cape Wrath!!! Professor Webber really pulled through for me, she was saying that this will really help me when I apply for grad school. Do you remember the house we lived in when you were stationed at Qaehrys? The one with the big window that led onto the roof? I really miss laying there and looking at the constellations with you. I took your telescope out tonight and searched the moon until I found Vaegon’s Crater. Dr. Lee said that’s the most likely spot they’d put a base and it’s apparently less than a decade away. When it goes up I’m going to be there, and I’m bringing your telescope.

Wait, what? Aemond knew that you were a student, but he always assumed you were pursuing business or something. Guilt crashed over him at the realization he had never taken the time to ask you what you were studying. He had never taken the time to ask you anything about yourself, really. He never really had much interest in microbiology, but maybe you were like Helaena and her entomology. Beyond that, never in a million years would he have guessed that you were planning to become an astronaut. You? Did they even send microbiologists to space? Aemond sighed as he put the journal down. He told himself that he was doing this to get to know you better. To support you. But he felt like he knew even less than before and at the cost of your privacy.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trilling of insects was the only source of noise, save for the torch. A melancholy silence was cast over the circle surrounding the pyre. Aly held the torch, dried blood and tear tracks staining her face. Silent sobs started to erupt from her as the kindling beneath Sabitha’s feet sparked. She next lowered the torch towards her girlfriend’s knees, following it with her shoulders. Aly wiped globs of snot off her face with one hand, using the other to cast the torch into the burning base of the pyre. Tears fell as you squeezed Nettles’ shoulder. She turned her gaze towards you, her massive brown eyes brimmed with tears. Your gazes shifted back to Sabitha, and the sight of teeth peeking through her torn cheek. “Mother above,” Myri exclaimed, her gaze fixed on Sabitha’s twitching hand. “She’s alive.” Panicked looks shot out across the group. “She’s alive! She’s-”

Aly ran towards the pyre, repeated “No’s” being exclaimed as she wrenched Sab off the pyre by her belt loops. Sabitha fell with a heavy grunt, and Aly immediately set out to put out the flames that had cropped up on Sabitha’s jeans. The redhead just lay there, intermittent grunts and gurgles emerging. You lowered yourself to the ground as quickly as you were able, lifting her head so that Myri could rest a blanket under it. “I got you,” Aly whispered, grasping her girlfriend’s hand.

“Really?” Sabitha groaned, “Fire?” The gurgle couldn’t suppress the sarcasm in her tone. She let out the smallest chuckle she could manage. The rest of you were still too keyed up from adrenaline to do anything but pant and stare.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just one more, Aemond told himself. He stared at the journal ahead of him and pulled it back onto his lap. One more, and that was it. He would put the journal back and he would leave it this time. His fingers brushed over the indents in the page, smudges bleeding out to the right.

Dad!!

I think I met somebody recently.

Happy doodles filled the margins of the journal, little flowers crammed into each individual corner.

She’s in my lab. She’s Westerosi, but I think you would really like her. R’hllor, what do I even say? She’s so fucking smart, Dad. She’s kind of shy but it’s actually really adorable. She’s just… a ray of sunshine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say something mean about anybody else. Just really, really uplifting. Gods, it feels so good getting on the train knowing I’ll see her dorking out over S. aureus with that adorable ass grin on her face. I don’t know if her being so different from Aemond is what makes me like her, but it’s such a breath of fresh air.

Aemond stopped reading the entry after the last mention of his name. While his stomach turned at your Hallmark-worthy descriptions of Emerson, he was grateful it provided a natural stopping point for him. He felt a small pang of pity. Here you had written a dissertation about how much you liked her, only to have it repaid with a whole two months of devotion. No more. Aemond put the journal back into the nightstand and shut the door behind him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your teeth grit as your foot hits the ground. Rhaena shot you a comforting smile, and you responded with a brief one before putting one foot in front of the other. Sabitha grunted from behind you, leaning against Aly. The two of you paused for a moment so the pair could catch up to you. “When we get back we’re gonna need clean water and thread to stitch them up.” Aly nodded while you shifted your weight onto your left leg.

“Leave me.” Blood was soaking through the bandage Rhaena had wrapped around Sabitha’s face, her voice coming out muffled. Between that, and the eerie sound of her sucking air in through the hole in her face it was a wonder anybody could understand her.

“Sab, stop it.”

“It’s-” Sabitha’s head lolled into Aly’s cheek, her auburn hair stiff with dried blood. “Not… Safe.”

“Don’t say that! We’re almost there!” Aly looked like she was about to start crying again, her powder blue jacket darkened with brown stains.

“Let them go,” Sabitha said, one hand coming up to weakly clutch at the vertebra around her neck. “Let them go.” She turned her gaze towards the rest of you then, grunting quietly before Aly acquiesced.

“Go back to the cabin as fast as you can.” She turned towards you, Nettles, Rhaena, and Myrielle. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but you had kept a decent pace so far. Thankfully it seemed like the wolf didn’t fuck up your muscles. There was still a mottled wreck beneath the cloth bandages, but it was superficial. It would heal. You would be fine.

“Aly?” Nettles whispered, worry furrowing her brow.

“Go.” Aly ordered.

The four of you got back to the cabin after what felt like an entire day, pain slicing through you with each step you took. For your part, all you could really do was be grateful that you could walk. This godsforsaken place put a lot of things into perspective. The four of you finally stumbled onto the porch, as panicked gazes took in the massive bloodied bandage on your thigh. “By the seven.” Sara got up off the porch as you moved to sit. “What happened?” Looking around the group, the blonde’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Where are Aly and Sabitha?”

“She… she told us to leave them.” Rhaena panted out. Floris took her hand and Baela scrambled to your side, tears brimming in her eyes.

“We were attacked by wolves.” But with how big they were, they might just be direwolves. Who knows, maybe a snark would cuntpunt you next. Anything was possible in this shit-ass forest. Fuck this country. Barba rushed out of the cabin, her icy eyes widening in panic. A hand clapped over her mouth as she looked at you, her jaw trembling for a moment. Gathering herself, she grabbed Rhaena by the arms. “Show us where to go.”

You grunted as the hot needle punched through your skin. Exposed to the open air was a horrifying sight. The flesh of your right thigh was mottled with black bruises, puncture marks on multiple spots. The cherry on top of it was the massive chunk of skin that had been wrenched from your leg when you kicked the wolf off you. Clenching your jaw, you hummed through your grit teeth. Seasick Sarah, had a golden nose. Hobnail boots, wrapped around her toes. The needle pierced through each layer of gored skin, fiery pain erupting as it happened. The parts of the wound that could be sewn up were. The chunk of skin that had been torn off could not be sewn shut. So as of right now, you were biting down on Floris’s belt, preparing for Nettles to press the heated knife onto your wound. You looked away, staring off into the darkness outside the window. The first burn lasted for a few seconds, and you bit into the belt hard enough that your jaw ached. After that, the next session started. You started to feel hazy about what seemed to be halfway through, and when she was done you were drifting in and out of consciousness. Sara sat at your side, stroking your hand. You pulled the blanket up more tightly over yourself, shivers wracking you. “You hanging in there?” She questioned, her tone soft. “Need another blanket?” You nodded abruptly.

“I thought it’d be warmer.” You murmured as her face drifted in and out of your field of vision. Her silvery hair flickered in the light, darkened roots showing at the crown of her head. When she placed the blanket over you, you curled into it. Turning away from her, you sank into the warmth of the cot and the blackness of sleep.

Muffled screams roused you, and you turned to the source of the noise. Disorientation clouded your mind until you caught sight of Sabitha lying on the table. The same hooked needle that went into your thigh was currently being plunged into her face. Baela’s expression wavered as she held Sabitha down. Please pass out. Sabitha continued to writhe in pain, thrashing against Baela. Please just let her pass out. Muffled shouts echoed through the cabin, and you found yourself covering your ears. Barba stared at Sabitha, a conflicted expression on her face as she grasped the weirwood pendant around her neck.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aegon sat across the table from Aemond, one arm on the back of the booth and the other dipping a fry into ketchup. He ate that, chewing for a moment while grabbing the massive, greasy burger and dunking that into the pile of ketchup afterward. Aemond held back the urge to physically cringe. His brother’s disgusting eating habits had always irritated him, and Aegon weaponized that. “So.” Half-chewed burger rolled around in Aegon’s mouth, and Aemond clenched his fist under the table for five counts before releasing it. “Moat Cailin?” He grinned, taking another slobbering bite of the dripping burger.

Aemond rolled his eyes. He cut into his chicken vesuvius carefully, picking up a piece of chicken and potato before properly chewing it, placing his silverware down, and staring Aegon in the eye while doing so. When he finished chewing he finally spoke. “I’m going out on one of the search rafts.” He said flatly, cutting another piece of chicken. “Maybe you should come.” A pointed stare was shot Aegon’s way, and he shrank back at the retort. It was no secret that he moved on from Sara a while back, but something shifted in Aegon’s gaze. His brother fidgeted in his seat. Aemond narrowed his eye as he ate, what was he hiding?

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” Aegon asked suddenly, taking another bite of his burger.

Aemond sighed. What would you be doing right now? He hoped you were dipping your feet in the Greywater, laughing with your friends. “I don’t know, trying to culture swamp bacteria,” Aemond said with a shrug, spearing a potato. “Whatever microbiologists do.” He finished.

“What?” Aegon said, his head quirked to the side like a puppy.

“Microbiologist. Somebody who studies ba-”

Aemond was cut off by barking laughter from Aegon. His brother set the burger down with a gross slap. Aegon leaned back in the booth, one arm cocked over the top of it. “She’s not a microbiologist.” He let out another guffaw.

Fury rose in Aemond as he clenched his fist. “She’s not an astronaut yet ei-” Another round of laughter cut Aemond off as he slammed his fist down onto the table, a couple across the restaurant shooting them a nervous look.

The action did nothing to faze Aegon, who continued laughing as he popped another fry into his mouth. “You’re guilting me about not going to Moat Cailin and you don’t even know your wife is an astrobiologist. Oh fuck, I knew it.” He lifted the burger back up to his mouth and took a messy bite, smacking it around. “I knew your marriage was bullshit.” He cackled, shaking his head before swallowing.

Aemond paled, looking around suddenly, grateful that nobody seemed to be paying attention to anything other than their own meals. His eye narrowed as he took in Aegon’s smug face, his fist aching as he clenched it. “You don’t know anything.” He hissed.

“Aemond.” His brother sat up for a moment, setting his burger down. “I’m a fuck up, but I know people.” His usual candor came back to him again a moment later, taking a loud slurp of his milkshake. Aemond stared off to the side, angrily following the insipid breathing exercises Dr. Greenwood had given him. “Is that what this is about? You feel guilty because you were a dick to her?”

“I just want her to be happy once she gets back home.” He stated flatly, hoping his idiot brother would finally drop the question.

“So when are you moving out?” Aegon needled. “Seriously, what makes you think she’d want anything to do with you when she gets back? You don’t even know what she's getting her Master's in.” When Aemond tensed to get up he paused. “Wait. I shouldn’t have said that.” He admitted. “Hey.” Aegon made eye contact with him, an uncharacteristically serious look flashing over his face briefly. “I have a secret too.” Aemond stared back at him, nodding at him to continue. “Me and Floris have been fucking for the past year or so.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I have an announcement.” Said announcement fell on deaf ears, with most people turning over. Barba grabbed a metal ladle, clanking it on the wooden table. “Hello!” She banged it repeatedly, and you groaned as you sat up. “Hi! Excuse me!” Rubbing your eyes, you looked around the cabin. “Thank you,” Barba said quietly. “In light of the expedition having ended how it did, I’m going to take the dead guy’s plane and fly south. I’m going to find us help and I’m going to get us out of here.” She nodded as if hyping herself up.

Fuck. “You’re gonna fly that thing?” Barba nodded at you, and you shook your head. When you talked back in your clearing you didn’t think the expedition would end this way. This shit was still crazy. No. There is no fucking way. “You don’t know if that plane is operable.”

“I’ve been looking over it for weeks, and the gas tank is full.” She threw her hands up suddenly. “I’m a pilot, I grew up watching my Grandpa fly. I have two-hundred flight hours. I know that I can do this.” Your heart sank, throat clenched tight as you stared at her pleadingly. “You can’t deny that Sabitha doesn’t need serious medical attention.”

“She’s not the only one.” Sara piped up, her gaze flickering over to her best friend emotionlessly. “Floris, tell them.”

“I- I really don’t.” You shot a glare at Sara, in disbelief that she really just derailed this so she could force Floris into telling everybody.

“Tell them.”

“What is it?” Luke asked, his doe eyes confused.

“Yeah, what is it?”

You gave Floris the most supportive look you could muster, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m pregnant.”

Rhaena immediately stood up, bounding over to Floris. “How far along are you?”

“Wait, did you get knocked up out here?” Myrielle asked, an eyebrow quirked in Jace’s direction. Baela’s eyes bored holes into the back of Myri’s skull.

“No, I…”

“It doesn’t matter when it happened,” Sara said, a sanctimonious look on her face. “Okay? It just matters that we get them both help.”

Rhaena tried to grab at Floris’s stomach, and she swatted her hands away. “Rhaena, not right now.” She snapped.

“Alright, can everybody just.” Ser Criston ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Barba, you can’t do this.” He commanded. “No. It’s not even close to safe.”

“There is no ‘safe’ anymore, Ser Cole.” Barba retorted. Her face was hard, different. “It’s going to be winter soon. If I don’t do this, we’re…” She paused for a moment, shaking her head. “We’re all gonna fucking starve.” You fidgeted with your hands, holding back tears that pricked at your eyes. It didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing.

“Alright, well, I’m still the oldest here, so, no.” He flatly responded, gesticulating with his one free hand as he leaned on his crutch. “I’m not gonna let you do it.”

Barba’s face hardened even further. You barely recognized this person, icy eyes narrowed to a point. She took a step forward. And another. “What are you gonna do to stop me, Ser?” Her face twisted into a sneer as she gave him a once-over. Tension filled the cabin as the two of them stared off.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond thought that he should feel more nervous. He sent you on a plane that crashed, it seemed only right that he should be subjected to the same fate. But he didn’t and he wasn't. Shockingly enough he felt freer than he had in months. He told Dr. Greenwood everything. Everything that Aegon told him, everything he himself had done, everything he could think of in the session came directly out of his mouth. He thought that another person knowing his sins would destroy him, but Dr. Greenwood hadn’t judged him. All she did was give him a plan to avoid the urge to do those things again. The only thing that weighed on him were Helaena’s words. ‘What if you’re looking too far south?’ When he told Dr. Greenwood about it, she had simply stated that everybody was bound to have their own theories and that he should trust the experts. Logically he knew she was right, but he still couldn’t shake the lingering worry that Helaena was. What if they were wasting their time down here and you were up near Winterfell? The plane ride was uneventful, and Aemond spent the entire time catching up with some work. He technically had until Tuesday off, but today was only Thursday and he wanted less to catch up on. The ride to his hotel was… interesting given that it was essentially a private hut floating on the water. The boat sailed through choppy gray water, and insects flew at Aemond from every direction. When he finally got to his hut, he was relieved to find that his secretary hadn’t booked a hovel. Setting his things down, he moved to enter the shower. When he got out he set about his usual routine. He opened his laptop to get some more work done before shutting it and turning the TV on before eventually settling on a documentary series about Valyria.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You set about helping the best as you could with your leg still in the condition it was. Mauling or not, work still needed to be done if Barba was going to fly the plane out of there. You tore up another plant as you watched Sara and Floris talk. There was obvious tension there, but Sara played coy and watched while Floris yanked roots out. Eventually, Floris walked off in a huff, and you set your gaze back downward. You would find her later tonight.

When a runway was cleared and all vines were taken off you all stood in front of the plane as Barba arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to suppress the feeling of dread that grabbed hold of you. She had her backpack on, tugging on the straps as she smiled nervously at Jace. Jace in response pulled her in for a hug. They stayed for a minute before she embraced Nettles, and then Sara. “Be safe, okay?” Barba nodded at Sara’s request. She smiled as she pulled Floris in for a hug, and a few more crowded around her in a group hug. All you could do was watch, a sense of foreboding stirring off in the distance.

When she reached you, you pulled her in as tight as humanly possible. You tried to burn everything about her into your memory, down to the scraggly feeling of her black hair against your face. Squeezing her for a moment more, you pulled your lips over your teeth. “Stay.” You whispered pleadingly. It didn’t feel right, and Barba was the one who had encouraged you to follow your gut.

“Remember your vision,” Barba murmured in response, “Fire and light, it’s a blessing from the Gods.” When she pulled away an austerity had passed over her. You recoiled, increasingly uneasy as you pulled your arms back over your chest. Barba stepped back and opened the door to the Cessna, climbing in and unzipping her backpack.

As soon as she sat down, Criston wrenched the door back open. “By the Gods, Barba. Please, don’t do this.” You hadn’t seen this side of Ser Cole before. Desperate. The last ditch effort of a man who knew his days of authority was behind him.

Barba shot him a nervous smile, swallowing before she spoke. “Thanks for worrying about me, Ser, but…” The sternness flashed back over her face like a mask, her icy gaze flattening. “This is my purpose.” She reached a hand out to pat him on the shoulder before she pulled it back and shut the door with a heavy clang. Barba ran her fingers over the weirwood pendant, her gaze emotionless as she placed her stuffed bear into the copilot's seat. Her gaze passed over to you quickly, before she locked eyes with you and smiled. Discomfort arose in you, as you watched something stir in the very back of her eyes. She held your gaze long enough to make you squirm before the propeller started to spin. Wheels squeaked through the dirt as cheers rang out, you stepped forward and prayed to whatever Gods there were above that your vision was a blessing. The plane was flying as it should, and Barba successfully lifted off. A relieved smile broke out across your face, but you knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet, quite literally. The landing was the hardest part of a flight, and you didn’t entirely trust the brakes on it. The Cessna soared clear over the lake, and you ran forward with eyes pointed to the sky.

“Oh my Gods, she’s doing it!!!” Laughter sounded, Sara clapping as you all ran to the lakefront. She shifted the plane to face due south, and you let out a sigh of relief. It had been a blessing from the Gods. Tears brimmed your eyes as you silently thanked them for seeing her through this. The plane grew smaller as she flew further away, shrinking in the mountains off into the distance. You began to cheer with the others, turning to grab Baela’s hand in excitement.

“Is that smoke?” Sara asked suddenly. Your gaze snapped skyward, and your heart dropped into your stomach. The fuel line. Angry fumes shot out of the bottom of the plane, and it started to shake. A bright flash of flame balled out as the explosion shook the treetops. A halo of light shone, a second sun in the bright sky. Sara screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth. Your body moved automatically, tears streaming down your face as you sank into the water of the lake. Rhaena tried to pull you up, saying something about your leg. Your body went limp as the sobs wracked your body. That fucking vision. And you had been stupid enough to trust it. A banshee’s wail rang out, but it didn’t register as being yours. You stared off into the distance, where sunrays broke through dustclouds and smoke.

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Fuck, this chapter was really really hard to write. I had no idea I would become so attached to Barba when I started writing this wtf. R.I.P Barba.

Taglist: @chainsawsangel @neenieweenie

#aemond x reader #hotd x reader #aemond x you #hotd imagine #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd aemond targaryen

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