#Vhagar CHOSE to bond with Aemond

[b-rainlet]

People claiming Aemond 'stole' Vhagar from Rhaena....you know Dragons aren't inherited do you....

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

I love your writing!! Could you do a short 1 or 2 part fiction based on this prompt: a highborn girl is to become Aemond's wife but she is a mute. Her other senses are well even though she isn't able to speak. She is youngest in her family and is extremely shy. No fiery bone in her body. Alicent coaxes her son into being betrothed to her due to Alicent having issues with high-born ladies not wanting to marry the prince due to his eye missing and his tendency to have a temper. They bond over reading and Aemond is enthralled with her beauty. Also Aemond never is a kinslayer in this story lol. Thank you!

Her Voice

Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction | Mini-Series Masterlist

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

A/N: I changed the request up a little and it's strange that I got this ask because I do actually have a stutter myself that was debilitating growing up, so I tried to shoehorn some feelings that I felt myself into this character, but hopefully I still did it justice (and I made it more about her intelligence cos I think Aemond would find that hot)?

Thank you for the request anon! Also thank you all for your love and comments I really love them! I can’t comment on them since this is a side-blog, but I appreciate you all! 

Warnings: none, just fluff, Aegon being Aegon

"Do you think that any highborn woman with a brain between her eyes would desire to spend the rest of her life with a tempestuous prince?"

Alicent was circling the room, hands smoothing over one another to keep herself calm, doing this in exchange of picking at her fingernails, which her father hated. And with Otto sat brooding in the corner of the room, Alicent chose her actions wisely.

Aemond barely resisted the urge to roll his eye, one hand rested on one side of his face, disinterested. Another reprimand for his temper, his behaviour. He didn't realise his mother had it in her to keep on doing this for so long, especially after having a son like Aegon. But even then, her solution had been to marry him to his sister, and it was clear how well that ended. And how Aegon's actions persisted.

"Perhaps if they were not so empty-headed they would know to leave me be"

"Like it or not, you will be wed" Otto butted in, resulting in Aemond sending an annoyed glare, "It has been difficult enough to introduce ladies to you"

"Because they think me a monster" Aemond retorted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair beside him. His mother was still pacing around, a million thoughts banging around in her brain, working endlessly on how to resolve this. In truth, he did not enjoy seeing his mother in such distress and his heart to see her in this way more often than not.

"That is not true, Aemond" Alicent's voice was soft, as if he were still a child.

"True enough that it whispers through the court"

"A marriage and children with her would mean security in the Reach" Otto said simply. His mind forever focussed on matters political and never of the heart. Alicent was proof of this and at this quip, Aemond could see the discomfort it bought her.

"I do not wish to marry that loud-mouthed half-wit"

Every time Aemond protested, he could see his mother begin pacing around the room once more.

"At this rate, half the ladies in Westeros will have met that beast before you"

Aemond extended a hand out with a sigh, "It is no fault of mine that she is scared of Vhagar"

"It nearly landed on top of her, Aemond!" Alicent begged out and Aemond genuinely had to hold back a smile as he imagined Vhagar pinning the girls dress to the ground with her large claw. It had scared the girl stiff and her loud-mouthed was quickly stiffened from the presence of the largest dragon in the world before her. Her face pale as a sheet.

"Vhagar did not like her" he simply responded.

A moment passed in silence and Aemond nearly stood to leave when Alicent crossed her arms, her warm, brown eyes trained at her second son. Half in pride and half in scolding.

"There is of course, another choice" Alicent suggested quietly, taking a side glance at her father.

Now stood before his mother, seeing over her easily, he placed his arms behind his back, a brow was arched in not only question but anxiety at her suggestion.

"She has a younger sister, only half a year younger than you"

Aemond scoffed, "This is desperation"

"It is a suggestion" Alicent corrected. In front of her son, she seemed so small as she took his large hand in both of hers, her rings clicking together to rub her fingers over his skin, "See how you feel"

With a sigh, he took his leave.

There was no harm in trying.

The days seemed to pass the slowest and the Prince busied himself as he usually did, performing his duties. He trained with Ser Criston, he read books on various subjects and he rode on Vhagar in an attempt to tame this temper his mother so wanted gone. One that she thought would be solved by marriage.

But one insufferable thing he could never escape from, was court gossip.

It seemed so rampant and neverending that he wondered if the ladies ever did anything else.

On more than one occasion he heard the ladies talk in hushed whispers when he walked by.

"I heard his dragon almost ate her"

"I do not see what woman would want a man who looks like that"

"I think he looks rather handsome with it"

"Yes, but he has a quarrelsome temper. Blood of the dragon indeed"

"I heard her little sister is to join the court. His dragon may actually swallow her whole with any luck"

"She is a hollow little fool. I heard she has not spoken a word since she was a babe"

He knew better than to listen to any of it. But it seemed to impregnate the walls of the Keep, like a smell that won't go away. Slowly seeping out of the stone to skulk in heavy plunders of smoke across their feet. It smelled of deception and the feeling was so heavy, it was almost liquid.

Like oily blood.

He had barely paid attention to his mother as they all lined up outside the Keep, anticipating the sister's arrival. The older sister had been closest to the dirt road, wanting to see her siblings and father before anyone else. The Royals were all standing shoulder to shoulder at the top of the stone steps, Aemond's eye trained forwards, not focussed on anything in particular. Aegon wishing he were somewhere else, preferably at the end of a barrel of Dornish wine. And Helaena, whose gaze never found anyone's, staring at the ground, watching the ants disappear beneath her slipper.

Alicent almost jumped out of her skin as the lady screamed in delight seeing the familiar colours of her house on the side of the carriage, pulling up to a stop. Aemond's chest inflated and he tightened his grip behind his back, bracing for the undoubtedly emotionally painful exchange he was about to have.

The carriage door flung open and two brothers emerged, clearly a lot older than the sister had been, but nonetheless they scooped her up into a hug. Aemond raised an eyebrow and dared look over at his own brother, who was smiling back at him already, as if suggesting they should hug like that. And at this Aemond did roll his eye.

The three siblings were stuck like this for a moment, talking over and amongst each other like a clutter of turkeys and it was impossible to tell what they were actually saying. The father eventually found his footing outside the carriage, a small figure following small behind him, head lowered. The older sister wrapped her arms around her father's neck but she was quickly pushed away, and not a single one of them seemed to address the youngest, who blindly followed her father.

"Queen Alicent" the father addressed, taking her hand in his to kiss at the ring.

"My Lord, how nice it is to see you and your…family again" she swallowed her words and her roundabout manner made Aegon smile somewhat.

"And you, your Grace. I hope my daughter has been a grateful guest"

There was a faint echo in the background of her horrific laugh, the father closed his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the sound of it.

Alicent merely smiled, "I understand we are to receive your other daughter"

The father stepped aside, but the figure still remained relatively hidden, "Yes, although she is the slowest of my daughters, your Grace. She…finds it difficult to speak"

The father looked behind him again and gripped his other daughter's arm and Aemond noted how hard he held her, so much so that when he tore away the marks remained. And he wondered if he was so rough with his other daughter, the one he thought was the grace of his house.

The girl was presented before Alicent. Yes she shared features with her sister, but hers were much were smoothed out. Her sister, while sharp featured and cheeks plump, her eyes were too close together and her nose seemed unfit for her face. This sister however, her cheekbones were higher and eyes were almond-shaped and she had a faint mole next to her eye on one side.

Her eyes briefly met Alicent's and sent a small smile and a curtsy, doing the same to the Princes and Princess, but never really meeting any of their gazes directly.

"Your Grace, my youngest"

Aemond almost scoffed, he didn't even have the decency to address her by her birth name.

"As I say, your Grace, she is quite slow but her mind is nimble, her other senses remain…unaffected"

All the young woman could do was listen to her father's cruel words about her, her hands were clasped in front of her, one finger fiddling with a golden ring that was on a forefinger. Aemond's gaze raked over her form, the dress she wore just being a bit too tight and he wondered if it might have been in her ownership for a while and had grown too big for it. This made her chest swell against the fabric and her could not help but admire the way she fit into it as she inhaled and exhaled, the golden necklace against her chest moving as well.

It was as if she could feel his burning eye on her and her hand raised to her necklace to turn the pendant over, her gaze briefly meeting the one-eyed Prince's before her cheeks became flushed and averted instantly. In a strange turn of events, it made Aemond smirk, knowing that someone would blush in his presence.

"If you'd like to follow me, I can introduce you to the King" Alicent stepped side to side with her father, "Perhaps your children might amuse themselves"

Her father turned to face his children, a haggard expression on his face, "Make yourselves scarce"

The young woman merely watched as her siblings waltzed away without her, no doubt to drown themselves in drink. And she stood for a moment watching them enjoy themselves before feeling a hand grasp her elbow to find Aegon's face close to hers. She made a surprised sound.

"Extraordinary" he murmured, pulling the poor thing to walk with him, "How much I would give to have a woman who did not speak back"

She attempts to push herself away, but he was much stronger.

"I bet that mouth is as disgusting as those whores on the Street of Silk"

A hand clamped at Aegon's shoulder, shoving him away and the woman looked back to find Aemond parting the two with his body, a hand brushing against her arm to place her behind him.

"Brother, I do not think she desires your company"

With a focussed eye zoned in on his brother, Aemond failed to notice that she had himself wrapped his hand around her wrist. A wave of heat rose to her face s she looked down and saw how his large fingers easily took her, feeling the sheer body heat of the Prince next to her, so much so that she was able to smell the various musks that had attached themselves to him. A faint smell of leather from his clothes, whatever he used for his long, illustrious hair and then something akin to being around an animal. Was this what dragon smelled like? She wondered if he had been riding before meeting her family.

His touch was easily softer than Aegon's grip had been, and for this she was grateful. He had been the first man to lay a hand on her that had not been forceful. The brothers continued to bicker.

"She is not deaf, Aegon. She can hear you"

"Deaf or not, she is a simpleton. If you are to marry her, do yourself a favour and find comfort in others, as I do"

All the blood seemed to rush to your ears in embarrassment and you tore your wrist away from the prince, turning swiftly on your heel in the other direction, away from the harsh words you had unfortunately become accustomed to. Your steps were swift as you heard Aegon cackle with laughter, but you did not see Aemond's saddened stare bore into your back.

With a book clutched longingly to your chest and the echoes of your already drunken siblings echoing down the halls, you pushed a hand to the library door, finding comfort in the quiet of this room in the chaos that was the Red Keep.

It had of course, not been your first time here. You had accompanied your sister on her journey many moons ago, and even then you felt the stares of those at the court boring into you like a flame. The hushed whispers of those were not lost on you, perhaps they also thought you were deaf. But it didn’t matter. You heard the horrible things the ladies said about you and equally, the awful things the men said as well. Although some of those had been about other matters.

Contrary to popular belief, you were not entirely mute. A lot of it was purely by choice. And you had become accustomed to the silence, for simply trying to speak, becoming out of breath and tight about the chest, gave you more anxiety than simply saying nothing at all.

You sighed in relief, finding the library completely empty and almost just how you had left it all those months ago, when you had come here for relief after your sister had accustomed herself to the ladies.

The book, which you had been in the middle of reading last time you were here, was still perched on top of the fireplace in the heart of the room, with a piece of paper sticking out in the spot where you had been rudely torn away. Your hand grazed over the cover, feeling all the intricacies of the people who may have read it before you. The spine was slightly worn away, and the fabric that coated the front page was discoloured. But it was the book smell that enticed you so and you opened where you were to bring to the pages to your face.

It smelled like home. Like a solitary childhood.

It reminded you of who you were.

Someone so disenchanted with life that they would lose themselves in books, fiction or not.

You lifted your skirts, inhaling sharply as the corseted part of the gown dug into you for being too small. Your father refused the request for new dresses, so you had to make do. After all, it was your older sister who was supposed to be enamouring the Prince, not you. So what need was there for fine dresses.

The chair hugged you, its fabric arms tucking you in like a bed and you laid the book before you to pick up where you had left off, the only sound in the room being the flickering of some candles and the uncomfortable sound of your finger tracing the next page.

You had been so interested in your book, the large oak doors opened without a reaction from you.

"I know you are not deaf, my Lady"

The voice startled you, and your head popped round the back of the chair to see the Prince standing closely, smirking and arms tucked behind him. A surprised sound left you as you stood, the book that had been placed on your lap hurtling to the floor as well as a small notebook you had been clutching. Your cursed yourself for the clumsiness but offered him a curtsy all the same before bending to retrieve the books.

He seemed to move too quickly for his stature and had his hand flat on the book before you had even reached out. Turning it over he smiled, bringing the book with him stand,

"Ah, so it was you"

You grasped the small notebook in your hand and stood to meet his gaze, eyes slightly wide with fear. As if he had caught you in his grasp.

He let out a small laugh, which seemed uncharacteristic for him, "Do not worry. I merely found it"

He placed the book down on the table and looked back at her. Even though he had one eye, it seemed to rake over her for an eternity before returning to her face.

"Are you afraid, my Lady?" he asked, still smirking.

Realising that she had been gawking, gripping onto her notebook, she shook her head. He seemed satisfied with the answer, only offering a 'Hm' in response as he began pacing the space around her.

"I may have limited vision, but I can see you are not afraid of me"

His back was facing you now, and with his eye not trained on you, you took the opportunity to study him and his form for a moment.

He was tall and his long silver hair trailed over his back, thick and straight. He certainly had that air of intimidation behind him and seemed to dress as such to scare people. In thick black leather with clasps, he almost looked imprisoned in his own clothes, straining against them. All this study of his form made you look down at yourself, wondering what he thought of you. The small woman without a voice, dressed in the clothes she was made several years ago.

"Your sister says I have a temper" he started, turning slowly to meet your gaze. He studied the way the candles flickered washes of amber and yellowish hues onto the side of your face, bringing the flush of your face out even more. How the flames bounced off the colour of your eyes. He wondered; how could someone be so expressive with simply their gaze.

He could not explain it, but you seemed content in the silence between you.

Slowly, as if movement would trigger the man, you opened the small notebook you carried with you, using the strip of charcoal to scribble something down. Aemond smirked seeing how concentrated you looked staring at the pages, how the line in between your eyebrows popped out slightly as you wrote.

You passed him the notebook, pointing at the page. He handled the book with such care that is astonished you, the way his fingers grasped it, there was a sensitivity to it. You swallowed your breath as his eye ran over the page all too slowly.

I do not know you well, but I have seen no temper.

Without moving an inch, his eye met you again and for a moment you worried you had said something wrong. But he softly handed the notebook back to you, watching your every move.

"Is this how you communicate?" he asked genuinely.

You nodded, as if embarrassed. Thinking of something to write down, you quickly flipped to a new page.

He accepted the notebook again once you had done, looking significantly more nervous this time, the charcoal rubbing black on your fingers.

I hope that the suggestion of our marriage does not embarrass you. If it is to be, I will be an amenable wife.

Aemond read the words on the page a few times, each time saddening him more so than the last. He saw how you fumbled with the charcoal, eyes averted, afraid of his reaction. He sighed so quietly that you did not hear it and only looked up once again when he handed the notebook back to you.

The words seemed to sincere, it bought a pain to his heart to see you think such things.

"Do not reduce yourself to such a thing" he said. But you did not look up.

There was a pregnant pause between you both as he regarded you.

"You are not entirely mute, are you"

You shook your head at his question, he winced at the painful look on your face. Immediately scribbling something down, faster this time.

It is sometimes better not to say anything at all.

Aemond nodded at this, "It is good advice, perhaps it can be bestowed on some within the court"

At this genuinely unexpected quip, you looked up at him letting a laugh escape you, hand immediately coming to your face to hide the smile that bubbled there.

It surprised you how quickly his eyes lit up upon hearing your voice. You could not help but look at him as he smiled before you, your cheeks firing up with embarrassment and you cleared your throat almost immediately, trying to dispel the air.

"You have a lovely voice" he said. It was here that you realised you were still smiling, eyes on his face, trying to find any signs of deception. For a second, you opened your mouth, tempted to say something. But the confidence quickly died as a block constricted your throat and the breath was expelled, but you nodded anyway, in thanks.

Do you read?

He nodded, gesturing to the book you had been reading, now reserved to the side table, all but forgotten.

"I do. I come here often" he said quietly, pacing about again.

You could no longer hide the way you looked at him. Your sister had said he was quick to rise and that she had been scared stiff at the interactions with him, that he had given her no notion of acceptance or equality. She spoke like he thought he was above everyone else.

But this was not the person you saw before you. Before you was some so soft spoken, you could barely hear him most of the time. Someone who enjoyed the serenity of a quiet library with the only sound being the flickering of the candles and the rain hitting the stone walls outside. You envisioned him being the only one to people-watch at parties, not amusing himself with the prospect of dancing. And perhaps not entertaining the thought of speaking to a woman directly.

"I come here when people like your sister remark on my tempestuous nature. Solitude is the only remedy for it" he paused looking over at you, "I imagine it is the same for you"

You scribbled something down, meeting his gaze when you handed it over.

Perhaps it is just that we are misunderstood. Solitude offers comfort.

A smile tugged at his lips once more and he thought that this is the most he had smiled in a long time.

"And books, it seems"

You nod genuinely, your eyes lighting up with an idea. Placing the notebook to one side, you rush past the Prince, giving him an opportune moment to feel the fabric of your skirts pass his thigh and the whips of your hair drag across the leather of his arm, releasing their scent. And with his eyes closed, he relished in these perfumes.

He allowed himself to think about what it would be like to live in that scent. To have it around him.

You placed a book in his hand, looking up at him excitedly. His long fingers grazed over the cover, admiring the gold leaf applied to it.

"Is this your favourite?" he asked, noting how close you remained after placing the book in his hand, though this you had not realised yet. You nodded, smiling as he opened the cover page to inspect the contents. A book he had not read.

He squinted at the pages, confused and looked back at you, barely needing to move his head since he was so tall.

"You can read this?" he asked. Ever humble, you shrugged your shoulders, "This is Valyrian" he sounded almost as if he did not believe you.

But you had read enough books for a lifetime already and you intended to prove to the Prince that what you were implying was truth.

Taking a deep breath, you lean forward and point to a word in Valyrian, inspecting the swirling text upside down. It had been a page right in the middle, telling the history of Aegon the Conqueror's mission to the Riverlands.  

"…i-istan…hae…" you took another breath, not meeting the Prince's eye, nervous that if you did all confidence would surely die, "…darys…"

"…dārys" Aemond softly corrected. You could not help but look up at him now, the eye that had been filled with mischief and confidence, now had something else there. You licked your lips and motioned for him to repeat what he has said so you might copy, "dārys…"

"…dārys…h-he….he…" you struggled on the 'h' sounds of the next words, so paused to gather your breath and push past the newly developing blocks. But the Prince waited patiently, more enamoured at the fact that you were attempting to speak before him and that this was possibly the most you had said to anyone in months, perhaps years.

The mere sound of your own voice surprised you, but concentrated on finishing the sentence, you licked your lips once again in concentration. Aemond almost laughed as the line between your eyebrows returned, "…hen ry…vest, vesteros…o-o…" you sighed at yourself, frustrated. The words beginning with vowels were always the hardest.

"…ondoso…" you managed, pushing past the breath quickly and it was the loudest word you spoke in the whole sentence. It felt clumsy and wrong, but if you had looked ahead, you would have seen the hooded look of Aemond looking down at you, mouthing along with you in silent appreciation.

"…rhaenys…" you finished, looking up at the prince. He closed the book and repeated the word back at you but with the trilled 'r' that was difficult for many to pronounce. You smiled, fiddling with your hair, only now realising how close you were to him so you were able to read the book.

You stepped back, suddenly feeling embarrassed and hot. As if you'd been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

"Very good" he said. The smile on your face was difficult to keep at bay and he placed the book to one side, "It is not an easy language to learn. From books?" he asked, to which you nodded.

You were grateful he did not mention anything about your slowness, about the stumbling over the words. He simply complimented your ability to even read and speak any Valyrian and that was all you wanted from him.

You scribbled down.

Perhaps you could teach me how to pronounce it properly.

"I would enjoy that, my Lady" he stepped forward to give you the notebook back, only to keep a hold on it when you tried to take it. His other hand laid on top of hers and all of a sudden, it all felt so real.

You could feel his fingers rub over yours with a strangely soft touch and all the heat rose to your face again.

"It is a brave thing, to show yourself to someone" he said, looking down at you, "Someday, I hope to do the same for you" he said quietly.

You flicked from one of his eyes to his eyepatch, knowing that this was the source of his own pain. All the things the ladies and your sister had said about this man. Saying he was monstrous, tempestuous and someone to fear. It was clear that these people just did not know him.

"Being with you is like being alone" he said quietly, almost to say it to himself.

Your other hand came to his arm, hand smoothing over the soft leather, reaching out to touch him to see if he was real. Your smaller hands barely came around his arm but you squeezed it, offering whatever comfort you could.

At his words, you nodded in agreement, and he could see the sincerity in your eyes. Perhaps he merely wanted to be understood, like everyone would like, but something that people like yourselves was difficult to find.

Dropping the notebook, the charcoal fell to the ground and snapped in two and before Aemond could open his mouth to question, you laid your head against his chest, hearing and feeling his heartbeat through the thick leathers.

He stood stock still for a moment, hands suspended in the warm air around you until he carefully laid them on your shoulders, pulling the hair over your shoulder. And for a moment he could not tell if he was greatly confused, shocked, horrified or comforted by the feeling.

A shudder rattled down your back as you felt his chin rest on top of your head.

"Kirimvose" he whispered, making a burst of air leave you with a laugh. It sounded mildly forced, and it warmed your chest in a way that bloomed across your whole body, knowing now that despite his discomfort, he had said it.

Thank you.

[silverwingxox]

But A Boy - Aemond Targaryen

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Targaryen!Reader

Warnings : Angst, mentions of murder, mentions of death, HOTD incest

Summary : Aemond gets a reality check and reader choses a side.

AN : my first one shot, rubbish but enjoy<3<3<3

She ran through the halls of The Red Keep, her sworn sword Ser Arryk Cargyll running behind her to keep the princess within his line of sight, She was a fast runner to say the least, easy to loose track of with his armour weighing him down.

"Princess please!" Ser Arryk called out helplessly, knowing full well that the young woman wouldn't pay him any mind, continuing in pursuit of her elder brother who had just returned from Storm's End. She had to know if the rumour was true, if her beloved brother had turned into a kinslayer.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors to Aemond's chamber, the young princess barged in, not caring if she was announced or not.

"Is it true?" (Y/N) panted, trying to regain her breath.

Aemond didn't bother to look up from the map of Westeros on his table, opposite the large roaring fire. Keeping his eye sight locked onto the aging map, his shoulder's tensed.

"I think you need to be a bit more specific sister."

Storming over to Aemond, (Y/N) pushed at his side, causing the older boy to stumble back a step at her force, his eye still downcast, (Y/N) grabbed her brother's chin harshly turning his face to her own.

"Did...Did you kill Luke?" The princess whispered, tears forming in her beautiful violet eyes, Aemond slowly brought his hands up to his beloved sister's neck, cupping her face, He pursed his lips before speaking. He knew (Y/N) had formed a bond with Rhaenyra and her bastard sons, Aemond had absolutely no idea why. (Y/N) had always been closest with Jacaerys and he hated it. He would always remember when the three of them were younger, how she would go out riding Silverwing and Jacaerys would ride Vermax. How she would leave him behind to be picked on by Aegon and Lucerys.

"I didn't know he would be there." Aemond muttered, as if it excuse his actions. (Y/N) gasped, her eyes wide. The one eyed prince was quick to try to comfort his sister.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I promise you (Y/N)..." The Princess tried to push her brother away from her, but it was useless, his grip too tight on her for the woman to be able to get away from him.

"How..how could you? He is but a child Aemond! You told me you wouldn't seek vengeance, you promised me! He took your eye so you took his life! We were both there that night Aemond, we both know you deserved it!" Tears fell from (Y/N)'s eyes as she began to scream at her brother.

Hearing his sister's words, Aemond pushed her away from him at such a force, the young princess fell back on to the cold stone floor.

"I didn't do anything wrong! I was attacked!" Aemond raised his voice in self defence, the one eyed prince starting stalking up and down his chamber, his blood beginning to boil. How dare his sweet sister say such spiteful words, how dare she defend his bastard nephew.

He honestly didn't mean to kill Lucerys...only frighten him, maybe injure him a little, but he didn't mean to kill him. The prince had lost control of his dragon who lost herself in the thrill of the chase. Vhagar would not obey and took down both his nephew and his dragon in one bite, tearing Arrax's wing from his tiny body. Aemond wouldn't admit it to his sister but killing Lucerys was an accident.

"Aemond...you must realise they will want revenge, they will come after us! Aegon already sits on Rhaenyra's throne and now you have killed Luke...Daemon will not let this slide." (Y/N) still sat on the floor, looking up at Aemond, still wearing a horrified expression.

She loved Luke, unlike her two elder brother's, she enjoyed the company of the Velaryon boys, they were always so nice to her. She had many fond memories with them and her half sister Rhaenyra, she brought a hand to her chest, over her heart thinking of the pain her elder sister must be going through at the loss of a child.

"I'm not scared of Daemon, he should be the one to fear me!" Aemond shouted as he walked over to his sister, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up from the ground with a tight grip that would surely leave a bruise.

"Why would Daemon fear you? You are but a boy." (Y/N) stated, her voice deadly calm, her eyes not leaving Aemond's, she knew her brother was quick to anger, but she didn't care. He needed a reality check and she would be just the person to give it to him.

(Y/N) was never afraid of her brother, he had always been kind and protective over her, he would whisper the sweetest things into her ear when he would sneak into her chambers after supper, he would leave soft kisses down her stomach as he prepared to make love to her throughout the night, he would hold her tight come morning when the sun has barely risen in the sky. 

Aemond had always been soft, gentle and caring when it came to his beloved sister so what reason would she have to fear him? 

“I ride the largest dragon in the world, Daemon has every right to fear me.” Aemond stated as a fact. (Y/N) shook her head, her long wavy hair falling into her face as she did so, the prince pushed the fallen strand and tucked it behind her ear softly, his face softening as he took in (Y/N)’s face. 

“I know you’re scared, but I will protect you.” Aemond moved his head forward, aiming to press his lips against (Y/N)’s soft plump one’s. However, the princess moved her head, Aemond’s lips landing on her cheek. 

“I don’t need your protection. Nor do I want it.” (Y/N) stated before turning away from her brother, heading towards the large oak doors. Aemond took in her retreating form, dread and confusion filled his senses. 

“Where are you going?” Aemond asked, remaining in the same spot. (Y/N) turned as she opened the door, looking at her brother one last time, taking in every bit of him. Memorizing his features.

"Dragonstone."

[thesunfyre4446]

It's really that hard for them to say Rhaenyra was a coward? 😂

The Cope. pleaseeee. are they sure they want to go down that rode?

yeah, he fought with everything he had. rhaenys died during that fight because she was sent there BY rhaenyra who didn't allow her sons to join. aegon could've just sent aemond with vhagar, but he chose to lead his army himself.

he was badly injured, was basically in coma for a year and was smuggled to dragonstone, managed to reunite with his heavily injured dragon because their bond slayed, managed to turn the people of dragonstone against rhaenyra, was ambushed by baela and her dragon and survive that fight as well - killing baela's dragon in the process, took dragonstone ambushed rhaenyra and killed her, got back to KL to fix the mess she made, was poisoned.

now let's talk about rhaenyra. didn't fight at all, managed to take KL because of the efforts of others, was betrayed by the random people she gave dragons to (wow def did not see that one coming) and tried to murder the few innocent dragonseeds who didn't betray her - resulting in her husband and hand abandoning her, ruled for half a year and it was a disaster, "the bastard tax", got a 2yo toddler killed, the entire city rebelled against her, the storming of the dragonpit because people were THAT done with her BS, fled to dragonstone after her dragon got randomly killed, was ambushed and died.

and let's not forget TB characters roasting rhaenyra :

"When word reached Dragonstone that Princess Rhaenys had fallen, angry words were exchanged between the queen and Lord Velaryon, who blamed her for his wife’s death. “It should have been you,” the Sea Snake shouted at Her Grace. “Staunton sent to you, yet you left it to my wife to answer and forbade your sons to join her.” For all the castle knew that the princes Jace and Joff had been eager to fly with Princess Rhaenys to Rook’s Rest with their own dragons."

aegon may have lost, but at least he never expected people to do his fighting for him.

[starogeorgina]

Killer queen

Warnings: Incest, sexual content

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen OC

1.02

The north was far better than you imagined; the feeling when your feet sank into the snow for the first time made you feel ecstatic; and although not all the Northerners liked the Targaryens, they were fascinated by your dragons, and most were welcoming, although you suspected many acted that way out of fear.

As it was an unpolitical visit, you rode on horses to Winterfell to get a glimpse of the castle you’d heard so much about; it was just as you imagined. The outer wall was at least eighty feet high and surrounded by a large moat. Growing up in the red keep made you appreciate the beauty of the castle complex being covered in snow.

During the days, you and Aemond wore cloaks to visit bars and various other locations on horseback to try and blend in without being spotted while Aelora, your emerald giant, and Vhagar flew freely without disturbance.

The nights were different; Aemond took you whenever and wherever he could with his mouth and fingers. With your back pressed against a tree, he’d ignore the sting of the cold nipping at his knees as he kneeled on the ground in front of you, worshiping you with his mouth. Or toy with you by rubbing his hard on against you in a public place, causing you to become hot and flustered.

Aemond insisted it was impractical to have sex knowing there wasn’t a way for you to get moon tea while staying in the north.

“I don’t think Aelora likes the cold,” you state, watching as the dragon you bonded with curls herself into a ball on top of a small hill. Aelora was known for her gorgeous emerald green scales that glimmered under the sunlight. She didn’t hatch until your fourth name day and was the smallest out of all the Targaryen dragons, but she was fiercely loyal to you; she even hissed at Aegon the one time he accidentally pushed you to the ground while drunk.

“Perhaps she misses the heat of the king's landing.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon's feast should have ended a week prior; you hoped they would have returned to Dragonstone by the time you returned. “Maybe we should wait a couple more days before leaving.”

“Two more days, then where are we going?”

You feel yourself melt under Aemond’s gaze; the looks he gives you are always so full of love and admiration, even when he’s in a bad mood. You rest your head against his chest and say, “We can go wherever you want. It's up to you if we fly back to King's Landing or follow your heart’s desire to Dorne.”

Aemond didn’t answer. He kissed the crown of your head, keeping his attention on the two sleeping dragons in front of him.

—

Sitting in a chair by the fireplace Aemond watches as a pretty bastard called Iris Snow kisses your collarbone while straddling you. The idea of another man even looking at you with lust in his eyes was enough to drive Aemond into a jealous rage, but a woman... When you first said you were attractive to other females, he was happy for you to experiment, as long as he got to watch and occasionally join in.

When you first laid eyes on Iris two days prior, Aemond saw the devilish glint in your eyes and knew what you wanted. The brunette made it obvious that she was intrigued by you both, but only you got to play with her.

One of Almond's favorite sights was your legs spread wide open, giving him or whatever maiden you chose for the night access to your most sensitive area. Goosebumps spread across your body as the front of your low-cut dress is pulled down. Immediately, Iris attaches her lips to your breasts, sucking on them. You make eye contact with Aemond and say, “Not getting enough attention, my love?”

He doesn't take the bait and says nothing.

You let out a small moan as her teeth nipped at your skin. You look over again, expecting to see Aemond’s lilac eye clouded with lust, but it wasn’t; his whole demeanor was overshadowed by a stillness. You pull back and kiss Iris one last time, then whisper that you are sorry but she needs to leave. She looks disappointed but goes without argument.

When she’s out of the room, you walk over to Aemond and sit on his lap, your head resting against his chest. “What is wrong ñuha jorrāelagon?”

He doesn’t answer. You feel his arm tighten around your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck, and his hand resting on your thigh. Something was gnawing at him; it had been since before you left home. That was two weeks ago. Every time you asked him previously, he just said he was distracted, but you weren’t going to let it go this time.

“Aemond,” you cup his chin, forcing him to look at you. “You’ve been dis-” You cut yourself off, scared you’d sound desperate and pathetic, but the truth was you were. Aemond has always clung to you; he’s never withheld a part of himself. The thought of losing him terrified you, “whatever it is, just tell me.”

He kisses the back of your hand and says, “My love, I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to ruin your fun. Before we left, Mother informed me that my grandsire had started to look at possible suitors for your hand in marriage.”

You don't dare move. That knotting in your gut reminds you of the feeling you had when it was announced Aegon was to be wed to one of his sisters, and for a split second you thought it was you and not Helaena, and the feeling of your world crashing around you reappeared. Finally, you find your voice again. “I will have no other.”

“It is known in the realm that any man who asks for your hand in marriage will face the wrath of Vhagar,” Aemond kisses your cheek. “Although we should expect a battle when we return, convincing our mother we should be married won’t be easy.”

“We don’t need their permission,” you spin around on his lap so you're now facing him, your lips ghosting his. “We should just get married, here in the snow.”

He gives you a warning look and says, “Ashara.”

You lean into Aemond, capturing his lips with your own. “Nobody would ever come between us. No suitors. No men courting me. No women staring at you. I will be able to stop drinking that horrid tea and swell with your seed.”

A look you’d never seen before flashes across Aemond’s face; he looked like a wild animal about to pounce on its prey. He grabs you, but the hips pull you in closer, “Tomorrow night, we will become husband and wife.”

Grinning, you wrap your arms around his neck. “In that case, I want you to fuck me like a whore one last time before making me yours forever.”

—

“Can I ask you something?”

Aemond raised his brows, sighing. He wasn’t one for talking after making love, but he nodded regardless, “Anything, my love.”

Caressing his face, you gently brush hair out of his face, your thumb gently stroking over his scar. “When did you know I was yours?”

“You’ve been mine for as long as I can remember.”

You lick at your dry lips staring up at the ceiling, “the night you lost your eye….I knew I’d never leave you again. I've always regretted leaving you to drink with Aegon, things could have turned out so different if I’d stayed by your side.”

“I would never have approached Vhagar with you by my side.”

“You never would have lost an eye.”

Aemond sat up right, looking at you with a stern look on his face. “I told mother it was a fair trade because I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon but that’s not all I gained that night. Watching you cling to Helaena, crying, with a murderous glare in your eyes, I finally realized I was yours just as much as you were mine, even if I was too young to know what that meant.”

“Avy jorrāelan.”

“I love you too, my sweet Ashara.”

Avy jorrāelan - I love you

ñuha jorrāelagon - my dear

[jacevelaryonswife]

Golden and Silver, my new colors | Part Seven

As a second son Aemond had to fight from an early age to conquer what he wanted, so the search for the forgiveness of his beautiful wife couldn’t be different.

∴pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!reader

∴warnings and a note: fluffy and suggestive content; english is not my first language. 2,5k of words

golden and silver masterlist

It's funny how the course of things varies with time. Months ago you anxiously wished for your husband's love and haste, weeks ago you hated him with all your fury and a few days ago you accepted that your heart could forgive him. Aemond wasn’t only doing his duty as a husband, he was being everything you longed for him to be: kind, attentive and interested. Your husband was perfectly fulfilling the oath that wouldn’t be negligent again, from small gestures as gentle caresses on your back and hands as in quiet conversations throughout the days.

How are you feeling? Would you like something? How were the classes with the septã? What have you been reading? Did something happen?

And gradually you began to match him with the same questions.

How was the training? How is the food? How are you feeling?

He was genuinely fine with you.

As a second son Aemond had to fight from an early age to conquer what he wanted, so the search for the forgiveness of his beautiful wife couldn’t be different. He learned the most difficult way the consequences of an absent paternity and devalued motherhood, so why affect his own family in this? You deserved more than was emotionally offered. Therefore, in that mild late afternoon he decided to fulfill a previous promise and took you to your first love and conquest: Vhagar. In addition to stimulating the creation of the affective bond between you, Aemond thought it would be a good way to knock down some bricks of your barrier to allow your passage.

You wore a light golden dress for the occasion, which exhibited the growing prominence of your belly. Your hair was mostly loose with the exception of a simple hairstyle and some jewelry adorned your ears and neck. All the way there was a conscious heat in your stomach about what was about to happen, almost comforting — although anxious. Your husband was very incisive in questioning the Grand Maester Orwyle if the flight would not harm your health and pregnancy, being assured that a light flight wouldn’t harm your condition. It was a big step for your relationship and for him, you knew, but seeing him perform it warmed your heart. Although you didn’t share the same enthusiasm as your husband on the subject in question, you responded in a cordial and polite way — too cordial to go unnoticed.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

You took a deep breath, looking at him before facing the ground. “A little bit.”

Aemond wasn’t common to physical touches, but he chose to lower the arm you squeezed to your waist and caress the swollen side of your belly. "There's nothing to fear while you're by my side, she feels what I feel."

"And what do you feel?" You asked softly, but expectantly.

Maybe that was the first time your beautiful husband displayed a genuine, restrained, but genuine and kind smile. "Good things," he said, making you reciprocate the soft stretching of lips.

"It's good to know."

Even there is a long distance, the great centenary figure became visible and intimidating. The tales used to be pleonastic most of the time, but you found that there was no exaggeration about the description of the colossal and aggressively imposing being. Another perception was the mild behavior of your husband, a great contrast to the usual stiffness of his closed jaw and intense eyes. He looked almost ethereal with his elegant posture and perfectly combed hair. Even though it was a sin, you thought it looked visually divine.

A meek roar drove away your daydreams and made you realize that you had arrived at your destination. Staying a few steps behind, you saw again a part of your husband's armor fall when you approached his mount and... caressed her?

“Uēpa riña, skorkydoso glaesā?” He said. Old girl, how are you? Unfortunately you weren’t knowledgeable of High Valyrian to understand what that meant. “Jaelan ao naejot rhaenagon mēre issaros.” I want you to meet one person. He took your hand and put it on the rough and rigid skin. “Bisa iksis ñuha ābrazȳrys.” That’s my lady wife.

It was the first time touching those beings... it was... unbelievable.

"What did you say?" You asked softly, delighted with the big animal in front of you — under your touch.

"I just introduced my beautiful wife," he said, taking your hand from his and landing on the small bud in your belly. "... when our baby is born I want a dragon egg in his or her crib." A trace of seriousness filled his tone and softened feature, visible in the intensity that your good eye looked at you.

His past was never an option to be approached because it was too painful and intimate, but you weren’t oblivious to what had happened, not when the evidence was quite clear.

“I appreciate it, but I wouldn't mind if he or she was as brave as the father and claimed his or her own,” you said, putting your hand on the left side of his face.

Another feeling flourished in his expressive look, which you didn’t know how to unravel, but kept your eyes attentively on his for the following moments. Even not knowing the feelings of others, you both thought that would be a good time for a passionate and kind kiss, it was enough for one of you to lean over and...

Vhagar's guttural roar announced that she was still there, making you laugh. "So, how do I get on that thing?"

"Don't call her a thing, it's impolite," he corrected you with humor.

Whatever it is...

"I believe it's more rude to you than to her," you replied as you took his hand to be carefully guided through the body of the big animal. The construction of nervousness was accentuated when you arrived in the saddle used by your husband. For the seven!

A satisfied and somewhat presumptuous smile was sketched by Aemond when he positioned himself in front of you. “Hold on tight, the sprint is turbulent,” he instructed.

"Where should I hold it?" You asked confused — afraid to touch him.

"In me, hold tight on my body."

Seven heavens...

You held his hips initially, but... but it seemed appropriate to lean to wrap him in an intimate hug and rest your head on his back. He always smelled good, there was no way to resist. And then, Vhagar started to take off the momentum and you've never felt so nauseous in your life with those movements. With eyes closed to focus on not vomiting you didn’t capture the transition between solid and volatile, opening your eyes when you were close to the clouds.

You were flying. You were flying!!

“Gods be good!” You laughed excited and incredulous.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"

“Yes! It's.”

Your husband smiled satisfied. “That's just the beginning,”

After the start, the rest of the flight was smooth, but it still made your stomach float a few times. Aemond was perfectly fine flying with his beautiful wife in the largest dragon in the world. His dragon's blood naturally inflamed his veins, but at that moment your firm touch ardently ignited each contemplated part and fed a primitive and inappropriate carnal desire. Seven hells...

In addition to the running activity, Aemond planned to show you something else, which partially occupied his mind in place of inappropriate thoughts. But still...

No, stop!

Although the most beautiful fields were described in The Reach, the one-eyed prince had made a recent discovery in Riverlands (which was also not behind in soil fertility and native beauty) of a beautiful field of yellow flowers, and even better for being close to Kingslanding since wearing you out wasn’t an option.

Wearing you out...

May the Father have mercy on me.

“Can I quickly let go of my arms?” You asked.

“Take the test quickly with one arm and hold me tight with the other,” he instructed.

Oh! That exuded freedom! And it was as tasty as dornese meadwine!

It's been so long since you've left Red Keep, and even longer since something so fresh and soft ran through your body. It was so good. All the recent moments spent with Aemond were good and compensating.

At first, after your explosion on the night of the princess's ball, you thought it would be the end, but life likes to surprise us, doesn't it? Even your parents were surprising not to mention that you had danced with Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir. While the Queen... well, you didn't talk again as before.

They were promising weeks in general, however, you were afraid of facilitating his work in your mission to fix things, after all you were neglected for four months. But well... it's been a month since things changed, so... No! Stop ruining the day!

Unfortunately that feeling lasted longer than you wanted, making you distract you from the reduction of speed and the beginning of the fallow. Until you realized the beautiful yellow flowers arranged as far as the horizon allowed. You couldn't believe it. You had never seen such beauty before — besides your chic dresses and set of diamonds earrings.

Aemond went down first, taking your hand to guide you carefully to the ground.

“Aemond... it's beautiful, it's so beautiful, I can't believe it!” Your emotional eyes were bathed in the orange rays of the sunset. You were radiant and more beautiful than ever.

“Yes It's. It's a beautiful view."

Again, Aemond wasn’t common to physical affection, but he didn’t restrained himself by wrapping you in a hug from behind and touching your belly, smiling when you returned the comfort. "I really appreciate this and everything you're doing these days."

"That's all for you. For both of you. For my beautiful wife and my future family,” he said, breathing his addictive smell.

Your steps were slow and delicate so as not to damage the flowers, following the prince's side as he passed his hand on each vibrant petal. You've never felt so alive before; so full of color and calm down. The velvety texture of the flowers and the refreshing breeze were sweet additions to your happiness. And then, the words started to come out before you could control it.

"You know... before... the day I fainted I had talked to Princess Rhaenyra about pregnancy," you began, "not that I thought it was easy. It started when I thought I would be alone throughout the process. She said things got easy with support, with the right people. And I just... I didn't want to be alone; I don't want to be alone while I go through this, it's confusing, I feel tired and my mood varies so much and I just... I don't want to be alone. I don't want to do this alone."

How he hated himself for hearing that.

Aemond stopped in front of you and held your face, determined to solve all the doubts you might have about him.

“Listen to me. It took me a long time to realize what I had done. My relationship with my father was never good, not when he always favored his first daughter... not when nothing happened when I lost my eye, not when my mother begged for justice," he could not let you believe that he would be alone, "and unfortunately I let the result of that splash on you, because I underestimated you and was not ready for our union, but you made and I regret letting things get where they are, I really regret it, so I assure you with everything I have that I won't leave you alone again."

That was the first time he confessed such intimacy to someone. And he doesn't regret at all releasing such a burden from his chest — neither do you.

"I'm sorry for what happened," you said, copying the position of his hands, "you were just a boy, you didn't deserve it," your thumb traced the perimeter of your scar, "you’re a man dedicated to your studies and training, well-behaved and intelligent, much more than the King could see. And... I know it's not appropriate for the moment, but you're a very handsome man too," you whispered the last part, making you gasp. He wouldn't expect to hear that in a sincere tone.

"Do you see all these qualities in me?" His voice was small.

“Yes, I do.”

Fuck the appropriate.

He leaned with determination to capture your lips in a kiss never before shared between you, full of love and wish, without fear or estrangement, just a soft contact between mouths. He sucked all the air out of your lungs with the initiative and execution, making you hold his jaw while moving your lips slowly (a little clumsy) and intensely.

He circled your waist when he deepened the kiss, approaching your body with tenderness and care.

“Aemond...” you broke a kiss with an enchanted sigh and bright smile, floating around him like a cloud. You have never shared such a passionate kiss before and never in such a beautiful place.

“My beautiful wife,” he closed his eye and leaned his head against your own.

✩。:*•. ──── ❁ ❁ ────. •*:。 ✩

"Have you ever thought of names?" He asked on your way to your shared cameras.

"I thought of some. For a son I thought of Aelor or Aemon, for a daughter I would like Daella or Aelora," you replied, being very comfortable with your head rested against his arm.

“Hm,” he buzzed attentively as he analyzed the options. “No Aegon?”

“I believe this family has enough Aegons,” you were quick to say.

Aemond laughed silently and opened the door for you, watching your body rest against the mattress.

God, you couldn't imagine how much worse your tiredness would be as your belly got bigger and rounder. Your grunt caught the attention of the prince, who directed a watchful eye in his direction.

"Is everything okay?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm just tired," you closed your eyes when your back sank into the pillow, "and I need a good shower."

“I'll arrange it. Do you need anything else?"

"... no, I don't."

He walked to the edge of the bed and sat next to you, touching your belly lightly. It was highly inappropriate for the moment, but it wasn’t something he wanted to keep hiding from you.

"I... I know we didn't have fruitful nights of... you know, intimacy. But I have to say…I need to confess and take it off my shoulders," he began, holding your thigh with his other hand and sending a heat wave to your femininity, "I can't stop thinking about us... in intimate situations."

Seven hells... he wanted to say... copulating?

"I can't stop thinking about having you," he added, "when you're rested on another day, I... would you like to join me in bed?"

Gods be good! Your whole body formed with revelation, a hitherto unknown need bloomed in your shells and your interior squeezed subtly.

"Husband... I..." you didn't expect this, but the warm feeling of his hand on your thigh along with the intense look he watched you fed his courage to say: "do you want to show me the fire of the dragon?"

He took a deep breath and felt his member squirm. "Yes, I want to.”

——————————————————

Well, we are in the final stretch of the story (I still don't know how many chapters are left) and I would like to thank in advance each of you who has been following the course of the story!

taglist: @immyowndefender @arcielee @malfoytargaryen @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fan-goddess @dark-night-sky-99 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @let-love-bleeds-red @sassysaxsolo @cicaspair418 @yentroucnagol @mefools @risefallrise @auratiqs @glitterandgoldfinds @bellaisasleep @plzletmedaydream @padfooteyes @bellameshipper @zillahvathek @schniiipsel @little-duck @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @kaemond-zafiro @the-hufflebird-girl @panagiasikelia @whatsonthemirror @namgification @minttea07 @crazymusicgirl104 @sahvlren @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @glame

[darkestspring]

The night Aemond lost an eye, what if Lucerys twin sister had sided with him. Claiming Vhagar chose Aemond just as much as he chose her and it wasnt right for him to be beaten up for it.

The only one in the room besides his mother to back him and make him feel validated.

Then at Storms End she offers her own eye in replacement of Lukes.

You had always thought their bullying (it was just that, no matter how many times luke and jace told you they were just playing with him, friendly teasing they caught it) of aemond was vile, it was horrible.

You had formed a friendship with over shared secrets in the secluded areas of the library.

Your dragon was bigger than normal. When your egg hadn't hatched, your mother had brought you to dragonstone and you had bonded with silverwing, your great-great grandmother's dragon.

"Silverwing is big enough to saddle two." You had told Aemond one day, a smile on your face. "I want to take you for a ride." You had, in secrecy. No one knew but the giddy smiles you shared in seclusion mean everything to you.

So, how? You had thought to yourself in horror, seeing Aemond's bloody face and his right eye stitched up. How could this have happened? Why did jace have a blade? Why did luke hurt him? How could they have taken it so far? From bullying to maiming... Are these really my brothers?

You had ran to him, forsaking your secrecy with him. "Aemond, Aemond. You're hurt. You're-" Sobs came out of your mouth, ignoring everyone else.

"Don't cry." He, who was injured, had comforted you.

You had been angrier than ever, screaming at your mother, sobbing at the injustice of it all, unaware of Aemond's awed gaze on your or the victorious look that alicent had given to your mother.

You had refused to talk to anyone for almost a year afterwards, something that had torn your brothers and mother to pieces.

but it had been years since then and so much had changed. You had remained the same. Loving and defensive. No one understood the care you held towards Aemond and it angered you. You didn’t want to think of how your mother would react if she found out that you had given yourself to Aemond when you had returned to the driftmark claim.

But your grandfather was dead and aegon was made king in front of the crowds, stealing your mother’s birthright. You and Luke had headed towards Storm’s End, only to be met by Aemond.

His stance softened as he saw you but hardened at the sight of your twin.

“I want your eye.” Aemond had claimed. “One will do. I will make it a gift to my mother, for all the pain of that night.”

“I came as a messenger.” Luke refused, stepping back as his hand clutched at yours.

“Luke, leave us.” You demanded, bringing both his and Aemond’s attention to you. You gave your twin a stern look and he nodded, leaving to go to Arrax. “Luke’s eye would not suit you, Uncle.” You commented. “It is a purple eye you need, like mine. Shall I pluck it out for you?”

“Sweet niece.” He murmured, his gaze neevr leaving yours as he walked closer to you in slow, steady steps. “It is not your eye I want.” He refused gently, his hand reaching out for your cheek. “I remember your tears that night. It was only you and my mother that defended me.”

“And yet, i fear it has not been enough. You still crave revenge and we are on opposite sides.” You fought against the urge to melt into his warmth.

“I wonder, does your mother know that I took you for my own. How you screamed and sobbed. How you came apart for me.” His thumb brushed over your cheekbone as your cheeks went red.

“Take my eye  and be done with it.” You pulled back, staring at him with a hard look in your eyes. “Or take me and make me your wife.”

[crimxonwrites]

Blood-painted kisses | Aemond Targaryen x female!OC | Chapter 7 ❝The Edge of the Storm❞

☽➛ Summary: Nothing satietes Maehrys Velaryon's hunger as well as revenge. Growing up at the Red Keep as the bastard of Rhaenyra Targaryen did not come trouble-free. Her childhood consisted of bitter words and repulsive looks from nearly everybody in the castle. As she grew older, Maehrys grew meaner. Once the Velaryons return to King's Landing to defend Luke's claim as Lord of Driftmark, Maehrys decides that it is time for the people who hurt her in the past to pay.

☽➛ Warnings: swearing, bullying, mentions of blood, overall 18+!!!!

☽➛ Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x female!OC ( enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again?? romance is a subplot)

Masterlist

Chapter 8

As Cannibal approaches Dragonstone, two figures and their dragons stand waiting before the castle gates: my mother, Rhaenyra, and Daemon. Their dragons, Syrax, and Caraxes, cast long shadows in the early dawn light. An anxious knot tightens in my stomach as Cannibal lands, a bit too close for comfort. The unpredictable nature of my dragon, combined with the uncertain reactions of the other dragons and my family, fills me with worry. Cannibal remains a mystery to me—a wild and terrifying creature.

Sliding off his wing is easier than my first attempt, though the ground beneath my feet reminds me of my recent trials; the pain of nearly dying three times in one night still lingers in my bones. As the first rays of dawn break, I keep my eyes on Cannibal, not daring to turn my back on him. His wings fold against his sides, their dark colour seemingly absorbing the morning light. I notice the shreds on his wings, similar to Vhagar’s, and I wonder how he got them. Does Cannibal fight other dragons when he gets hungry? I thought he fed on dead dragon’s carcasses and unhatched eggs. His head moves from left to right, studying the other dragons in silence. His horns, like two sharp towers of obsidian, stick out from his head.

"Maehrys," my mother's voice calls, making me finally face my family.

"The Cannibal, the wild beast," Daemon says, as Cannibal growls, shaking the ground beneath us. "Well done, Princess."

"How?" my mother asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

"It's a rather disturbing story," I admit, exhaustion weighing me down. "Don't congratulate me, your Grace. Cannibal claimed me." I meet Daemon's eyes as I speak.

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a worried look, while Syrax, my mother’s dragon, stares at the fierce dragon now under my control. From afar, Caraxes screeches, and Cannibal growls again. I wonder if they like each other.

"Alisha told me you left in the middle of the night with the iron chest that held your dragon eggs," my mother steps closer, her voice tinged with worry. "Did they hatch?" she asks.

"Yes," I reply, the truth stark and painful. "But Cannibal was starving."

"You fed your hatchlings to him?" Daemon, pointing towards the beast behind me and I cannot decipher the look on his face; shocked, disturbed, impressed?

"Look at him! Does Your Grace think I had a choice?" I snap, my patience wearing thin. Striding towards the castle entrance, I add, "I brought you a war dragon, Mother." With a final pat on her shoulder, I continue on my way, the weight of my night's ordeal pressing heavily upon me.

A gust of wind sweeps across my skin as Cannibal's massive wings beat powerfully, propelling him into the sky. I turn, my eyes following his dark silhouette as he ascends, disappearing behind the thick clouds. My mother and Daemon stand below, their gazes fixed on the heavens, watching the wild dragon vanish.

As I make my way up to my chamber, a heavy fog of guilt settles over my mind, seeping into every corner of my thoughts. A few nights ago, my mother made fateful decisions: she sent Jace to Winterfell to secure an alliance with Lord Cregan Stark and dispatched Luke to Storm’s End as a messenger. She chose them because they had dragons—trusted, bonded dragons. My stomach churns, and my body feels weighed down by regret. If only I had acted faster, if only Cannibal had found me sooner... I could have been the one to go. I should have been the one at Storm’s End, not Luke. The thought gnaws at me, a relentless torment.

Each step feels heavier than the last as I climb towards my chamber. The guilt is a tangible presence, pressing down on my shoulders, making every movement a struggle. My mind replays the events endlessly—my hesitation, the lost moments, the chance I failed to seize. I see Luke’s eager face, his determination, his trust in me as his elder sibling. The image of him flying off into the stormy sky haunts me, a constant reminder of my failure.

I should have fucking killed Aemond when I had the chance.

Suddenly, another memory crashes into my consciousness, striking like a dagger to the heart—Aemond's kisses, searing and forbidden. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the intensity of his gaze—all flash before my eyes with startling clarity. My heart skips a beat, and a shiver runs down my spine. The forbidden nature of our secret moments, the betrayal they represent, weighs heavily on my soul. The guilt is almost too much to bear, a relentless, crushing force.

I reach my chamber and close the door behind me, leaning against it as if to keep the world at bay. Helplessness creeps into my heart, a dark, insidious presence that saps my strength. The room is cold and dim, the first light of dawn casting long shadows that dance across the walls. I move to the window, staring out at the vast expanse of sky where Cannibal vanished. The horizon is tinged with the pinks and golds of sunrise, a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

I clasp my hands together, fingers trembling. The weight of my choices, the burden of my inaction, presses down on me. I am at the mercy of my guilt, a prisoner of my own making. The dawn breaks, but for me, the darkness remains.

Later, I am awakened by Alisha’s gentle voice. I only got to sleep just a little bit, as I look out the window and notice the sun has barely begun to set.

“Your mother has asked to join her at the council table.” She announces. Dazed and confused, I leave my comfortable bed.

I get ready quite swiftly with her help, and when I am seated at my vanity mirror, Alisha is braiding my hair.

“I saw your dragon fly by this afternoon.” Alisha speaks. “He is quite the beast.”

“He is.” I affirm, looking at myself in the mirror, heavy bags rest under my eyes.

“I heard whispers that he ate your hatchlings.” She adds.

“He did.” I affirm again and I look at Alisha through the mirror’s reflection. She looks happy, and I try to smile, but my heart aches too much.

I can sense that she wants me to share the good news, but I cannot. My mind is troubled by the events that happened yesterday with Aemond, and my heart still aches for my brother. I feel isolated.

The council chamber is dimly lit, the flickering flames from the hearth casting long, shifting shadows across the stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood and tension. At the head of the table, my mother sits, regal and composed, the weight of her crown apparent in the solemnity of her gaze. Beside her, Rhaenys, Corlys, and Daemon, their expressions guarded, watch me with varying degrees of interest and suspicion. The other lords and council members are seated around them, faces I have seen countless times but whose names I’ve never bothered to remember. Their eyes are all on me, their scrutiny palpable.

I am seated at the far end of the table, feeling the distance between us both physically and metaphorically. The table, heavy and imposing, feels like a chasm separating me from their trust. The fire beneath the table offers little warmth, and I am acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat, as I await their judgment.

“You have tamed the Cannibal,” Ser Robert Quince speaks, breaking the silence. His voice is calm, measured, but there is a hint of disbelief in his tone. I recognize him—he is the castellan of Dragonstone, the man who knows more about dragons than anyone else in this room.

“I did not,” I correct him, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. The words taste bitter on my tongue, a reminder of the blood I have spilled.

“The princess fed her three hatchlings to the Cannibal,” Daemon interjects, his tone laced with a mix of approval and something darker, something that makes my skin crawl.

A murmur ripples through the room, a mixture of shock and disgust. I feel their judgment in every whispered word, every sideways glance.

“Your Grace, if you don’t mind, I would like to hear the princess’ story,” Ser Quince says, his voice cutting through the murmurs as he shifts his gaze from Daemon to me. His eyes are piercing, demanding honesty, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of respect for the man.

All eyes turn to me, and the weight of their expectations settles on my shoulders like a physical burden. The pressure is suffocating, the need to explain myself, to justify the horrors I have committed, gnaws at my insides. The silence stretches, each second an eternity. Panic flares in my chest, and I instinctively look to my mother, seeking reassurance in her calm demeanour. Her gaze meets mine, and though she gives nothing away, I can see the faintest flicker of concern in her eyes. It’s enough to keep me anchored, to prevent the rising tide of anxiety from sweeping me away.

But as I prepare to speak, the weight of last night’s actions presses down on me, a suffocating reminder of what I have done. The kiss I shared with my uncle, the life-threatening fight we had, the regret in Aemond’s eyes—it all comes rushing back, threatening to overwhelm me.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to find the words that might make them understand. But as I look around the room, at the faces waiting for my confession, I realize that no explanation will ever be enough. They want to hear about my dragon, but they will never truly grasp the choices I had to make, the sacrifices I had to endure.

Still, I must try.

"My decision to feed the hatchlings to Cannibal was not one made lightly," I begin, my voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word. The truth is, I did not mean to kiss the kin slayer. It’s what I wanted to say, what I needed to confess. "It was a choice born out of necessity, of survival. Cannibal is not a dragon that can be tamed by ordinary means." My words are measured, careful, each one a shield against the turmoil inside me. I did not understand why I reciprocated the kiss. "He is a beast of wrath and hunger, and to control him, I had to show him my strength, my willingness to do whatever it takes. The hatchlings... they were a sacrifice, a necessary evil to secure Cannibal's loyalty." I do not know why I liked his lips on mine so much, and why the taste of Aemond lingers in my mind.

As I speak, the memory of that kiss, fiery and desperate, rises unbidden. It was a moment of weakness, of raw emotion, and yet it consumes me. Just as I had to face the darkness within to master Cannibal, I had to confront the storm that raged between Aemond and me. The kiss was not planned, not wanted—at least not consciously—but in the heat of the moment, it felt inevitable, like two forces colliding with devastating intensity.

But just as with the dragon, I was drawn into that fire, helpless to resist its pull. I remember the way his hands gripped me, not in violence, but in a twisted kind of need. The way our lips met with an urgency that felt like drowning and breathing at once. It was wrong, it was madness, and yet...

My voice wavers as I finish my explanation, the words catching in my throat as the memory of Aemond’s kiss lingers like a wound. “The hatchlings were a necessary evil,” I repeat, more to myself than anyone else, as if saying it aloud could absolve me of both sins—the sacrifice and the kiss.

But deep down, I know that no amount of justification can cleanse me of the fire that still burns in my veins, ignited by his touch. And as the council murmurs in response to my words, I realize that I cannot dwell on this now. There are greater battles ahead, and the luxury of guilt is not one I can afford.

“So,” Rhaenys begins with a wry smile, “What are we going to feed him? Dragons?” Her jest cuts through the tension in the room, drawing a few quiet laughs. Even my mother, her heart heavy with grief, manages a faint smile, though it’s a fragile mask over her pain.

I watch her, trying to understand how she copes with loss, how she carries the weight of grief and still stands tall. I don’t even know how to cope with the loss of my brother, and the thought of losing a child as young as Luke is unimaginable.

“The better question is…” One of the lords begins, his voice hesitant but determined. “When are we going to send the Cannibal to slay Vhagar?” His words hang in the air like a challenge, and I see my mother’s composure crack as she violently shakes her head.

“We shall not. I shall not,” she declares, her voice rising, betraying the storm of emotions she battles to keep in check.

“The Cannibal is the strongest weapon we have,” the lord presses, his audacity surprising me. Where does he find the nerve to speak to his Queen with such boldness?

“I shall not send my daughter to such a cruel fate. The Cannibal is a wild dragon, not a war dragon,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice laced with a mother’s fierce protectiveness.

“If I may, your Grace,” Robert Quince intervenes, his tone more measured. “We can train Cannibal, and the Princess. He is wild, yes, but he is also ancient. I do not doubt that he has experience in combat, and we could make use of him. As a last resort.”

My mother’s gaze shifts to me, her eyes mirroring the same panic and anxiety I felt earlier. She wants me to say no, to refuse this path of danger and vengeance. She is terrified of losing another child to the Greens’ cruelty. But as I recall the petrified look on Aemond’s face last night, the memory of Cannibal’s arrival fills me with a dark satisfaction. The fear in Aemond’s eyes, the shock—it was intoxicating, a rush of power I’ve never felt before.

“I will need a very large saddle,” I finally say, breaking the silence. My mother’s head shakes again, disbelief and dread mingling in her expression.

“Meeting adjourned,” she sighs, her voice heavy with defeat.

As the council members begin to disperse, I remain seated, lost in thought. The decision I’ve made feels like a step toward something irreversible, a path that will either lead to my revenge or my downfall. The room clears out, leaving only the crackling fire and the echoes of our discussion. Daemon and Rhaenyra remain seated as well, starting a fiery exchange of whispers, about me and my dragon, no doubt.

Just as I rise to leave, the chamber doors swing open, and Alisha rushes in, her face pale and drawn. She kneels before my mother, clutching a sealed letter in her trembling hands.

“Your Grace,” she says, breathless, “it’s for you, from King’s Landing.” She turns to me and hands me the letter.

My mind starts to wonder in many different directions. Has Alicent decided to request a betrothal between Aemond and I? Does she have that kind of courage, especially now when he has slain my brother? Has she written to apologize?

With shaking hands, I open the letter and hold my breath.

“To My Niece, Maehrys,

Do you remember when we first met? How quickly we became enemies?

Writing to you feels like a betrayal of everything I stand for, yet I cannot silence the thoughts that have plagued me since last night. It sickens me to admit that you’ve found a place in my mind—a place you have no right to occupy, and yet, you do. I hate that I’m writing to you. I hate even more that I feel compelled to.

You are the villain in my story, Maehrys. Your bastard bloodline is the reason for this war, the reason for all this death and suffering. I should despise you entirely, and I do. But it’s not that simple, is it? Because despite the hatred that courses through my veins whenever I think of your family, there’s something else—something I can’t quite shake, no matter how hard I try.

And yet, despite every ounce of hatred I hold for you, I cannot banish the memory of those moments from my mind. It enrages me, this pull I feel toward you, this vile attraction that defies all reason. How dare you invade my thoughts, twist my desires, and make me question everything I have sworn to uphold? You are nothing but a traitor’s spawn, a tool of our enemies, and yet… yet you haunt me like a curse.

I hate that I feel this way, Maehrys. I hate that I’m torn between my duty to my family, and this twisted connection between us. I’ve been taught my entire life to see you and yours as the enemy, to destroy anything that threatens the Greens. And yet, when I think of you, I’m filled with a conflict I never anticipated.

You are everything I should loathe—a symbol of the war, of the bloodshed, of everything that has been torn apart. But you are also something else, something I can’t quite define. And that infuriates me. I want to hate you entirely. I want to see you as nothing more than the daughter of the woman who seeks to take what is rightfully ours. But there’s a part of me, buried deep, that can’t let go of what we shared, however brief, however wrong it was.

I don’t know what to make of this, Maehrys. I don’t know how to reconcile these feelings with the man I’ve always believed myself to be. But I do know this: I will not let these emotions cloud my judgment. My loyalty is to my family, to my cause, and I will not waver in that. But as much as I want to forget, I can’t. You’ve left your mark on me, and I despise you for it as much as I despise myself.

This war will end, one way or another. When that time comes, I don’t know where we’ll stand, or what will be left of these feelings. But for now, I’m caught between hatred and something I can’t name—a pull toward you that defies everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve believed.

If we meet again, I won’t know whether to strike you down or to… I don’t even know. But until then, I’ll keep fighting this war, and the war within myself, knowing that both may tear me apart.

Yours in ways I cannot fully understand,

Aemond”

My heartbeat quickens as I finish reading the letter, a surge of emotions crashing over me like a tidal wave. My chest feels tight, my breath shallow, and I suddenly feel lightheaded. How dare I invade his thoughts? How dare he kiss me? How dare he send me this letter, setting my heart and brain at war with one another? How dare he make my soul twitch and convulse in this unbearable way?

"Your Grace," Alisha's voice cuts through my turmoil, making me jump. I look up from the letter, startled, and find her eyes locked onto mine, filled with worry. The world around me seems to blur as I try to steady my racing thoughts.

"Did you read this?" I whisper, my voice trembling with the hope that my words haven’t reached my mother’s ears. Panic tightens its grip on me, squeezing my chest until I feel I might break under the pressure.

"You kissed Aemond?" Alisha’s whisper is sharp, laced with accusation. The weight of her words sends a chill down my spine.

My eyes widen in horror as I meet her gaze. Panic floods my body, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. Her expression hardens, shifting from concern to judgment, and I can’t bear the intensity of her stare. Shame crashes into me like a wave, pulling me under, and I quickly avert my gaze, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.

"You are dismissed for today," I say swiftly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Take tomorrow off too." Alisha huffs in response, leaving with a scoff that echoes in my ears like a slap. The sound of the council chamber doors slamming shut behind her reverberates through the room, amplifying the silence that follows. I can’t bring myself to look at my mother and Daemon, the weight of their unspoken questions pressing down on me like a boulder.

"Jace is flying back on the morrow," my mother’s voice finally breaks the silence, mercifully not mentioning the letter. "He will aid you in your dragon training, I think."

Grateful for the reprieve, I quickly shove the letter into my leg grater, next to my dagger. The cold steel against my thigh is a reminder of the choices I’ve made, the path I’m on. "Will he arrive with good news?" I ask, desperate to focus on anything other than the storm raging inside me.

"I hope so," she replies, and I finally gather the courage to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, filled with a pain that mirrors my own. "We will hold Lucerys’ funeral tomorrow."

"Very well," I say, standing abruptly, eager to escape the suffocating tension in the room.

"I love you, Maehrys," my mother’s voice trembles, the words heavy with emotion.

"I love you too," I reply, my voice thick with unshed tears. I sniff, fighting to keep my composure, and then turn on my heel, fleeing the council chamber before my resolve crumbles.

As I walk away from the council chamber, the echo of the heavy doors closing behind me feels like a sentence sealing my fate. The letter tucked against my thigh feels like a secret flame, burning with intensity I can barely contain. My steps quicken as I make my way through the winding corridors of Dragonstone, my mind a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and something far darker.

The distant roar of Cannibal pulls me from my thoughts, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. He is out there, somewhere in the skies, a beast of legend—untameable, unpredictable, and now bound to me through blood and fire. I should feel victorious, perhaps even proud, but instead, all I feel is the weight of everything I have lost and everything I stand to lose. Lucerys, my sweet, innocent brother, gone to the whims of fate and the cruelty of war. And now this—whatever this is between Aemond and me, a poisonous thread weaving through the fabric of our destinies.

I take the stone steps two at a time, desperate to reach the solitude of my chambers. The halls blur around me as the ache in my chest grows sharper with each passing moment. When I finally reach my room, I slam the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I try to steady my breathing. The walls feel too close, the air too thin. Every breath is a struggle.

I pace the length of the room, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. His words churn in my mind, a poison I can't seem to rid myself of. Every breath I take feels like I'm drawing in the remnants of his presence, that arrogant smirk, the way he looms in my thoughts as though he's burrowed his way into the very fabric of my soul. I should be planning my next move, strategizing how to bring him down—but instead, I'm fixated on him.

In between these thoughts, I close my eyes, willing the chaotic storm inside me to calm, but the memory of his letter lingers, as does the ghost of his kiss. I hate him. I should hate him. And yet, I can’t deny the twisted thrill that courses through me when I think of him—the way his eye darkened with something more than hatred, the way our lips met like a clash of swords.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t just want to strike him down—I want to understand him. And I loathe myself for it.

I pull the crumpled letter from my pocket for what must be the hundredth time. The edges are worn now, the ink slightly smudged from where my fingers have repeatedly traced the words. As I unfold it, my eyes scan the lines, searching for something I’ve missed, some hidden meaning or lie, some trick meant to twist the knife deeper into my back. But it remains maddeningly the same—an enigma wrapped in promises and contradictions.

Do you remember when we first met? How quickly we became enemies? the letter begins.

Of course, I remember. How could I not? It was a dark time, our shared childhood at the Red Keep. It was a dance of hatred from the start, a venomous game of wills. But now, he dares to speak of it as if it were something else—as if it were the beginning of some dark, twisted connection. His words speak of regret, of a bond that transcends our enmity, but I can’t help but doubt every line, every sentiment. Does he mean any of it? Or is this just another one of his manipulations, another way to get under my skin?

I want to throw the letter into the fire, to watch it burn and erase his words from my mind. But I cannot. I hold on to it, my fingers tightening around the paper as I try to make sense of the torrent of emotions swirling within me. The letter speaks of things unsaid; things left between the lines. It’s not just an apology, not just an admission of our shared darkness—it’s an invitation. An invitation to what, though, I don’t know.

Am I supposed to believe him? Am I supposed to care?

I shake my head, forcing myself to remain detached, to keep a clear head. But it’s impossible. Every time I look at his words, I feel the confusion creeping in, the uncertainty of whether I’m reading them with a clear mind or through the lens of the feelings I refuse to acknowledge. It’s as though there’s a part of me that wants to believe him, wants to understand him, even though I know I shouldn’t.

And that scares me more than anything else.

I toss the letter onto the table, unable to stomach reading it any longer. Yet even as it lies there, taunting me with its presence, I can’t deny the pull it has on me. I can’t stop thinking about him. About the kiss that still lingers on my lips like a curse, about the look in his eyes when he spoke those final words.

There’s a part of me that wants to hate him completely, that wants to purge him from my thoughts entirely. But then there’s another part, the part that thrills at the game we play, the part that doesn’t just want to destroy him—it wants to unravel him.

And I despise myself for it.

I let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through my hair. This should be simple. He’s my enemy. He’s always been my enemy. But nothing feels simple anymore.

And the worst part is, I’m not sure if I want it to be.

With a frustrated groan, I push away from the door and stalk toward the window. The sun has almost set, casting long shadows across the room. The sky is tinged with deep purples and reds, and somewhere out there, Cannibal is prowling the skies, a living reminder of the line I have crossed.

I turn towards the table and reach for the letter once again. The parchment feels heavy in my hands, and I scan Aemond’s words again, each line a dagger to my heart. How dare you invade my thoughts? he had written. I shake my head bitterly, wondering the same. How could he think I wouldn’t?

Tearing my gaze away from the letter, I fold it carefully and place it back into its hiding place, where it feels safer, buried next to the cold steel. No one can know. Not my mother. Not Daemon. Not even Jace.

A loud knock at the door startles me. I turn, gripping the back of a chair as though I can anchor myself to something solid. The door creaks open, and a familiar figure steps inside.

Daemon. His silver hair gleams in the dim light of the room, and his expression is unreadable—calm, but there’s always something lurking beneath the surface with him. He closes the door behind him softly and regards me with narrowed eyes.

“What troubles you, Maehrys?” His voice is low, probing.

I shake my head, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle, Your Grace.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, stepping closer. His gaze sharpens, scanning my face, searching for the cracks in my facade. I stiffen under his scrutiny.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “I see the storm in your eyes. You’re battling something, and I want to know what.”

For a long moment, I say nothing, my mind racing with all the things I cannot say. I glance toward the window, the dying light of day casting a long shadow between us. “This war,” I say, finally breaking the silence. “It demands more of us than we were ever prepared to give.”

His eyes darken at my words, and he crosses the room to stand beside me, gazing out at the horizon. “War is a cruel master,” he says. “It twists us into shapes we no longer recognize. It demands sacrifices.”

I close my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And if those sacrifices leave us hollow inside? What then?”

Daemon’s hand falls on my shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from a man who so rarely gives it. His voice softens, though there is an edge of steel beneath. “Then we fight on, Maehrys. We use that hollow place as fuel. We make it burn.”

I nod, though his words do little to soothe the turmoil inside me. As Daemon turns to leave, I catch sight of his reflection in the mirror—he is still a warrior, still a man who thrives in the fire of battle. I wonder if I am the same. Or if I am something else entirely.

When the door closes behind him, I let out a long breath, the tension in my body easing just slightly. The letter still presses against my skin, a silent reminder of the choices I have made and the ones I am yet to face.

Tomorrow, Luke will be laid to rest. And after that? Cannibal and I will face the skies again. The weight of vengeance presses heavily on my chest, a promise yet to be fulfilled.

And somewhere, in the distance, Aemond waits—whether for battle or for something else entirely, I cannot say.

But soon, I will find out.

Also read on: AO3

Taglist: @watermel0nsugarhigh

A/N: Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist<33

[persephone1700]

Can we please talk about the magnificent and sorrowful 4th episode of House of the Dragon?

No friends of mine are interested in HOTD and I found myself with so much to say, so here it goes. (English is not my first language so please excuse me if there are any garamtical horrors!)

The bond between dragons and their riders it's exquisite.

In the books Rhaenyra refuses to send Jace and Vermax, still haunted by the death of Luke she doesn't want to sacrifice another son, and instead sent Rhaenys.

Now it's the queen who never was, who volunteers to go, on service of her queen, knowing what must be done, and with full love and confidence of her mighty Meleys.

I believe that dragons choose their riders based on their personalities and the affinity they have.

We saw Vhagar, ridden previously by the bravest and mighty Targaryens, accept the bond with Aemond, a little boy too eager to prove himself worthy, a boy who was bullied and found a escape route on books and trainings, hardening himself.

But in Aegon... we see a boy who, much like his brothers and sister, has been neglected and doesn't understand much about love.

We saw him at first be mean, laughing and teasing others, prone to mischief and swinging ale. A boy who doesn't know what to do in certain occasions and seeks the refugee of his mother, never quite finding it.

What does it say about a boy like Aegon forming a strong lasting bond with the most beautiful dragon? A question that haunted me for a while.

On yesterday's episode, we saw how beautiful and magnificent Sunfyre is, going towards his rider, playfully nudging Aegon's chest for a pat, the resemblance of a smile appearing on its face when Aegon strokes him.

For the first time we see Aegon truthfully smile. The first display of love we see him feel is from his dragon!

At Rooks Rest, we see an inexperienced dragon flew to battle with his rider, willingly, because of this bond.

Sunfyre's cry was extremely painful to hear, and we saw them fall rapidly, both dragon and rider in pain. When Cole finds Aegon, Sunfyre still broken, creates a nest for his rider.

Yes, at first we are led to see everything he has done wrong, some of his actions cannot be forgiven (diana for example).

But in Tom's Aegon we see the boy who's neglected, seeking guidance, seeking love and comfort, quite funny even, a boy who doesn't wish for the throne or to rule, who questions himself what kind of a brother would he be if he stole his sister's birthright?

I'd like to believe that when Sunfyre chose Aegon, he saw all that hurt in him, all the love that he needed and was denied. The beautiful golden beast, saw something good on Aegon.

Leaving behind the greens, because I refuse to talk about Aemonds betrayal now, otherwise I'll spend hours and hours talking about it and I'm still shocked.

I'll just say that Ewans performance never dissapoints, makes you absolutely understand his ambition and motives, you found yourself even rooting for him after everything he has done.

On an even sadder subject, let's focus again on the blacks and Rhaenys.

Absolutely devastated by that last sequence. Meleys and Rhaenys off to battle again, the dragon always trusting it's rider, attacking ferociously even though they were doomed the moment Vhagar appeared, and Rhaenys facing her destiny with grace.

A woman who deserved to be queen, we saw her defend Rhaenyras claim constantly, from Corlys, from Daemon, from Rhaenyras small council... every time loyal to the cause that she believed in, til the last. Dying side by side with his old friend.

Eve Best as Rhaenys Targaryen was just phenomenal.

-CG/ persephone1700

Let me hear your opinions please!

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Your favorite dragon/dragon rider bond? Your least favorite dragon/dragon rider bond? Your favorite dragon? Your least favorite dragon? Which dragon is the biggest good boy 🐉 🐲?

1. Daemon/Caraxes are my absolute faves. They’re totally made for each other, and care for one another greatly.

2. Least favorite is definitely Aemond/Vhagar. The guy uses her as a weapon. And grandma just randomly chose him because no one better actually tried to claim her at her former rider’s own funeral. No actual bond there whatsoever.

3. Caraxes is my absolute favorite! Love his personality, his bravery, his ability to take on a bigger dragon with a whole lot more experience, and his design is by far the best in my opinion.

4. Least favorite is definitely Sunfyre. The golden fire-breathing chicken killed the most peaceful dragon ever, Grey Ghost. Grey Ghost was known to be super shy, a loner who avoided humans and dragons alike and spent his time fishing. Sunfyre is a detestable beast for that one, as far as I’m concerned.

5. Biggest good boy? I would have to say, Stormcloud. Poor baby could barely fly and he sacrificed himself to save Aegon III.

[crimsonbastard]

Updated List of Team Black:

Daemon: Fucks his niece on the night of his wife's funeral. Ignores his daughters, doesn't offer them comfort.

Rhaenyra: Fucks her uncle on the night of her cousin's funeral. The said Uncle being the widower of the departed cousin. Doesn't offer her husband comfort as he mourns the death of his sister.

Also Daemon: *MURDERS* his own Wife just because.....

Also Rhaenyra: Doesn't even show concern for her half-brother losing an eye. Instead demands that he be sharply questioned (tortured) about how he came upon the truth about her sons being bastards which reveals that she had committed high treason by mothering bastards.

Coming to Team Green:

Wants family to be safe from the reckless decisions made by Team Black. Alicent's fears were confirmed when Viserys supported Rhaenyra despite the latter's sons assaulting her son and mutilating him. This shows that Rhaenyra could get away with hurting her family and daddy dearest will be there to support her.

Rejects Lary's offer of hurting Lucerys and getting his eye as payback. Is appalled by Larys committing patricide and killing his brother She wanted her father as Hand again. She didn't want others to get killed for it.

Some might argue about Alicent keeping Larys instead of exposing him but with what she has seen in Episode 7 solidified her fears of her family being vulnerable therefore someone like Larys will come in handy.

AND FOR THE LAST TIME. Aemond DID NOT STEAL VHAGAR. A Dragon is not a slave. Vhagar chose Aemond as her rider. Once Laena died, the bond between her and Vhagar died leaving her free to be claimed by any Targ. Rhaena is not entitled to Vhagar just because she formerly belonged to her mother. If they wanna talk about Inheritance then Vhagar originally belonged to Aemond's family first, Vhagar was ridden by Aemond's Grandfather so Aemond has an equal right to claim that Dragon just like Rhaena going by their logic.

Does not touch eachother in a loving way:

I think people are blind to the scene where Otto hugs his daughter when he gets removed as Hand. He tells her to be strong if she's to survive Kings Landing. Keep in mind that Alicent trusted Rhaenyra over her own father when Rhaenyra got accused of coupling with Daemon. And when she found out that Rhaenyra indeed slept with someone other than Daemon she realises that Rhaenyra lied on her own mother's memory and betrayed her trust which got her father fired. Rhaenyra made a reckless decision and Alicent paid the price for it.

Alicent is supportive of Haelena's hobby even though she isn't interested in it herself. She sits and watches her daughter play with her insect collection despite getting bored.

Cannot satisfy unquenchable thirst for power

A case can be made for Otto.

When Alicent told Aegon that "he is the challenge" she's not insinuating that he usurp her throne. It's blatantly obvious that Rhaenyra's kids are bastards so once Rhaenyra dies Aegon indeed will be the next in line. And Rhaenyra's claim is already on shakey ground considering her reckless actions and if people were to find out about the legitimacy of her son's then it'll be evident that Rhaenyra has committed treason by mothering bastards and parading them around as rightful heirs. Hence Alicent's fears (sowed by Otto) of Rhaenyra hurting her children to solidify her claim to the Throne.

Am I to argue that Team Greens are completely innocent? I won't. They themselves make morally wrong choices which we'll see in the coming episodes. But to completely shift the blame from the Blacks and demonising the Greens thereby ruining the beauty that is the nuance among both sides is infuriating.

[fanficapologist]

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 Sixty-Two

“Don’t be absurd.”

Maera acknowledged her deep affection for the dragon, recognizing his presence during times of turmoil, but the notion of a formal bond seemed too fantastical to accept. Despite the denial on the surface, beneath the playful demeanor, other feelings wrestled within Maera – a sense of disbelief, perhaps fear, at the profound connection suggested.

Aemond, with a sense of certainty, argued, “You have just commanded a dragon the size of the Keep to not harm your husband.”

In defiance, Maera pushed back, her hand still on Ēbrion’s face as she argued, “I did not command; he merely chose to listen.” The married couple engaged in a spirited exchange, each stubbornly determined to prove their perspective to the other. The air crackled with the unspoken challenge, a testament to the dynamic interplay of trust and assertiveness that defined their relationship.

Aemond's smug demeanor lingered as he took a step closer to Maera, hand casually placed behind his back. His head cocked slightly, he explained with certainty, "Exactly. He has chosen to listen to you, to adhere to only your instruction." Maera, in response, rolled her eyes playfully and continued to pet the dragon, reveling in the connection. However, Aemond’s firm grasp on her wrist abruptly redirected her attention. She turned with a tense jaw, meeting his gaze with a mix of irritation and amusement. His efforts to capture her attention did not go unnoticed.

Undeterred, Aemond pressed on, his words asserting, “You are bonded, I can see it. Within his body language, and within yours.” Maera’s gaze locked with her husband’s single violet eye.

His insight and education, supported by his own experiences as a rider, usually held weight, yet doubt crept into her mind about the notion of a binding bond. The Targaryen bloodline ran deep in her veins, yet the idea of taming a dragon seemed implausible. Her mother, Lady Gael, had been Targaryen by blood and possessed the Valyrian features, but had no egg in her cradle. And her grandfather, Vaegon, was called ‘The Dragonless’ for a reason. Could it truly be possible for her to have tamed a dragon?

The uncertainty played across Maera’s features as she searched Aemond’s single violet eye, contemplating the complexities of her connection with the magnificent creature standing before her. The Prince, perhaps sensing Maera's uncertainty or driven by the desire to prove himself further, sighed before addressing her. "Watch, he will not listen to me, no matter how much I implore him."

Turning to the magnificent blue and black dragon, Aemond commanded, "Ēbrion, Soves." Fly. The dragon, however, remained unaffected, as if Aemond's words were mere whispers lost to the wind. Maera looked up, meeting the fiery gaze of Ēbrion, pupils expanded, still fixated on her. Vhagar grumbled beside the other dragon upon hearing her riders voice, seemingly readily to obey any command that was given, even if Ēbrion was not.

Aemond, now turning his attention back to Maera, remarked with a subtle challenge in his tone, "See? Now you." The unspoken test of the bond lingered in the air, inviting Maera to step into the spotlight and demonstrate the unique connection that seemed to defy conventional understanding.

Nervously, Maera gazed upon the dragon's face before summoning the courage to press her hand to his snout – the same hand unmarred by the cut she made all those moons ago, a testament to the dragon's recognition of her Valyrian blood. A reassuring nod from Aemond spurred her on, and she turned her attention back to the dragon.

Uncertain of the outcome, she spoke softly to the beast, uttering the word "Soves." The dragon's pupils contracted and expanded, a subtle dance of acknowledgment across his face. Ēbrion huffed, emitting puffs of smoke from his nose, before gracefully pulling away and making his way to the cliffside. There, he unfurled his wings, a majestic display of dark blue and black against the somber backdrop. With a powerful dive, he disappeared momentarily before reappearing, soaring into the expansive, grey skies.

Maera watched in awe as Ēbrion’s form cut through the air, defying gravity with each beat of his wings. The sight invoked a complex array of emotions within her – a profound sense of connection, admiration for the sheer beauty of the dragon in flight, and an underlying acknowledgment of the extraordinary bond that seemed to tie them together. As the dragon danced with the clouds against the grey canvas of the sky, Maera felt a mixture of exhilaration and a humbling sense of being part of something beyond the ordinary.

Aemond's voice cut through the wind, matter-of-factly stating, "The bond is truly solidified during the first flight, where beast and rider can truly get to know one another.”

His unwavering conviction in Maera's potential as a dragon rider sparked frustration, causing her to huff in response. "I told you, husband, I am no dragon rider."

The Prince, undeterred, responded with a nonchalant "Hmm," before tilting his head to the side. "Shall we rule it out then?" he proposed, a smirk playing on his face as he turned to face Vhagar, then back to Maera with a raised brow.

The unspoken challenge hung in the air, and Maera, understanding his intention, exclaimed, "Oh no, no, no, absolutely not." The prospect of taking flight on the back of a dragon brought forth a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. The fear of being thrown off Vhagar or the worry that she might prove incapable of handling the dragon added a layer of tension to her emotions.

The provoking hum and the glint in his violet eye conveyed an assurance that bordered on arrogance, a familiar stance for the dragon rider who embraced the thrill of flight. “Oh, come now. Don’t tell me that my fierce wife, the Jewel of Rainwood, is a mere simpering lady after all?” he challenged.

The words, though laced with a teasing tone, stung Maera with annoyance, causing a mix of other emotions to surge within her. The challenge stirred a competitive spirit, a desire to prove herself through defying the Prince’s words and embrace the exhilarating freedom of the skies. Yet, mingled with that ambition was a thread of vulnerability, the acknowledgment that this adventure might expose aspects of herself she had yet to fully understand. The prospect of flying alongside Aemond on the back of Vhagar carried both the weight of anxiety and the allure of uncharted heights.

With a frustrated growl, she looked her husband in the face with a defiant stare. “What do I do?”

Aemond's victorious smirk hinted at the satisfaction of winning their playful challenge. He extended his gloved hand, a gesture Maera took begrudgingly. Yet, the subtle sparks that flew between their intertwined fingers betrayed the underlying connection that persisted. Guided by Aemond, Maera reluctantly followed, their footsteps echoing in the quiet anticipation of the moment. The dragon’s gaze remained fixed on the Prince, awaiting his command with an air of regality.

As they stepped closer to Vhagar, Maera took a moment to study the magnificent creature. Her eyes wandered over the bronze chains adorning the dragon’s chest, seamlessly blending into the scales. Attached to these chains were ropes on the left and right, seemingly fashioned as reins for the rider.

Stopping midway down Vhagar’s side, Maera noticed an intricate network of chains and ropes forming ladders that led up to the saddle. The mechanism, designed for ease of mounting, spoke to the careful consideration given to the dragon’s rider and the seamless coordination required for such an exhilarating journey through the skies.

Aemond skillfully pulled on a taut rope attached to the magnificent dragon, before turning to Maera with a mischievous grin reminiscent of a Cheshire Cat. "Use the ropes to pull yourself up her side," he instructed, his tone a blend of amusement and confidence. "Hopefully she should not throw you off."

Maera, feigning shock at Aemond's jest, retorted, "Do not say such things when I am about to climb a dragon!" With a determined stride, she barged past him, her hands gripping the ropes. The deep rumble that resonated through Vhagar's colossal form sent a shiver down Maera's spine, momentarily questioning her resolve.

"I'll be right behind you, issa daria," my Queen, Aemond said in a hushed tone, his words a subtle encouragement. Despite the initial unease, there lingered a spark of excitement and a willingness to embrace the challenge. The opportunity to share such an exhilarating experience with Aemond, to soar through the skies on the back of a dragon, held an undeniable allure.

Emboldened by his presence, Maera began her ascent, hands gripping the ropes and chains as she pulled herself upward. The cool touch of the bronze links beneath her fingers and the slight vibration of the dragon’s scales against her palm heightened the surreal nature of the experience. Each movement carried the weight of anticipation and exhilaration, a dance with danger unfolding against the backdrop of dragon scales and the boundless sky.

Halfway up the beast, Maera couldn’t help but steal a glance downward, the ground appearing smaller and more distant with each passing moment. A momentary flip in her stomach threatened to unsettle her, but then her eyes met Aemond’s gaze below. His encouraging look, filled with a mix of pride and excitement, fueled her resolve.

Amidst the anxiety, there existed a glimmer of anticipation, a willingness to confront the unknown and test the limits of her own capabilities. Determined, Maera focused on the upward climb, hand over hand, her surroundings shifting from the dragon’s scales to the clear expanse of the sky above.

Upon reaching the saddle, Maera quickly realized that her attire was far from suitable for dragon riding. The layers of her black dress posed a challenge as she attempted to sling her leg over, resulting in a frustrated groan. Adapting to the circumstances, she opted to place both legs on one side of the saddle, hoping it would suffice to keep her secure.

Behind her, Aemond expertly settled into the saddle without a hitch, the familiarity of the motion reflecting his seasoned experience as a dragon rider. Maera, caught in a moment of admiration for her husband's natural affinity with dragons, couldn't help but smile. It was evident that Aemond was born to command the skies on the back of these magnificent creatures.

The Prince then pressed his chest against Maera's back, the warmth of his presence enveloping her, as he reached forward to the front of the saddle. A subtle shiver ran down her spine in response to his touch, the proximity of his body behind hers carrying a known excitement that tingled through her veins.

With practiced skill, Aemond procured two bronze chains, weaving them with a certain ease that spoke of countless flights shared with dragons. The first chain he delicately looped around Maera's waist, securing her to the saddle. The second found its place around his own, ensuring a shared connection between them and the dragon beneath.

As the chains settled into place, the close quarters of the saddle and the warmth of Aemond's touch stirred an intimate thrill within Maera. The unspoken language between them, familiar and charged with unexplored possibilities, added a layer of anticipation to the forthcoming journey through the skies.

The Prince reached past Maera once more, grabbing onto the ropes that were linked to Vhagar’s chained harness. Aemond pressed his face to Maera’s cheek, his skin on hers warm and comforting, before asking her, “Ready?” With a slight smirk and hesitant nod from his wife, Aemond turned his attention to his dragon below them. “Dohaerās, Vhagar. Soves.” Serve me, Vhagar, Fly

Maera felt Vhagar stir beneath her, the dragon's movements slow but powerful. As the massive creature rose to her feet, a profound sensation coursed through Maera's being, causing her stomach to churn in response to the shifting altitude. In instinctive reaction, she clutched onto the bronze chain securing her to the saddle, seeking stability in the impending ascent.

The vibrations of Vhagar's footsteps resonated through the ground, each mighty footfall echoing the colossal power of the dragon. Turning her head to overlook the cliffside, Maera's heart pounded loudly in her ears as she grasped the imminent reality. The air around them crackled with anticipation, and as Vhagar prepared for flight, Maera braced herself for the exhilarating ascent into the boundless expanse of the sky.

Vhagar unfurled her colossal wings, beating them with a resounding thunder that echoed through the air. The dragon's powerful wingspan created a rush of wind, stirring the atmosphere around them. As Vhagar's mighty form let out a bellowing roar, Maera's senses heightened, her pulse quickening in tandem with the imminent flight. With a ground-shaking burst of energy, Vhagar surged forward, running towards the cliff edge. Maera's stomach dropped in synchrony with the dragon's powerful stride. The precipice approached rapidly, and in a heart-stopping moment, Vhagar leaped into the cloudy void, leaving the ground beneath them.

As they plummeted, Maera's breath caught in her throat, the rush of adrenaline intertwining with the sheer exhilaration of the descent. Then, with a magnificent display of strength, Vhagar's wings caught the air in a triumphant ascent. The sudden shift from free fall to soaring flight was a breathtaking experience, the wind against Maera's face causing her eyes to water. Vhagar ascended higher into the sky, her wings slicing through the air with precision. The wind intensified, buffeting against Maera's face, prompting her to squeeze her eyes shut in an attempt to shield against the onslaught of air.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes, ābrazȳrys,” wife, the Prince commanded in her ear, yet all Maera could do was shake her head furiously, keeping her eyes firmly shut. She felt Aemond behind her pull on the ropes in his hands and the dragon transitioning into a more horizontal flight, her trajectory aligning with the expansive sky. Feeling the shift in movement, Maera cautiously opened her green eyes, adjusting to the rush of the wind now more of a steady force against her face.

With the world stretching out beneath them, Maera gazed at the vast expanse of the open sky, the calming point where the chaos of ascent subsided into the tranquil panorama of the cloudscape. The sheer beauty and freedom of flight unfolded before her, a moment suspended in time where dragon and rider soared together, harmonizing with the boundless canvas of the heavens.The initial quick breaths that escaped Maera's lips transformed into subtle laughter, the exhilaration of flight washing away the remnants of anxiety.

As the wind continued to whip around them, her laughter melded with the symphony of the skies. In that moment, high above the world, Maera embraced the joy that surged within her. The weight of uncertainty and sorrow in world she knew seemed to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of calm and wonder. The dragon beneath her carried them through the open expanse, and Maera allowed herself to be captivated by the beauty of the world unfolding below.

As Maera glanced over her shoulder at her husband, a radiant beam of pride illuminated her features. Her gaze lingered on the familiar sight of Aemond, his leather eye patch a stark contrast against the backdrop of the sky. His Valyrian white hair, usually sleek and straight, now danced in subtle waves, tousled by the rushing wind.

She noticed the tension in his jaw, a silent testament to his focus and determination as he guided Vhagar through the vast expanse of the sky. Despite the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, Aemond's resolve was unwavering, his gaze fixed ahead as he skillfully controlled the dragon beneath them.

When his violet gaze met hers for a fleeting momen, a feeling bloomed within Maera, reminiscent of the familiar yet complex feeling of love. It was a sensation both suffocating and liberating, engulfing her in its intensity. Despite the looming shadow of war and the uncertainty of their future, Maera found solace in the presence of her husband.

The weight of their responsibilities and the looming shadows of the future did not matter in that moment, and there was a sense of reassurance in knowing that they faced it together. The vulnerability that accompanied her love for Aemond was palpable, a fragile thread woven amidst the chaos of their lives.

Yet, amidst the turmoil of emotions, Maera remained guarded, unwilling to fully open her heart to him at that moment. There would come a time when the words would need to be spoken, when the depths of her love would need to be laid bare. But for now, she held them close, waiting for the right moment to reveal the depths of her feelings to her husband.

After what seemed like hours, Vhagar's massive form finally touched down on the sandy beach near the Keep. Maera’s body lurched at the jolt of the landing and Aemond wasted no time in unbinding the chains that tethered them to the dragon, his movements precise and practiced. With Aemond's guidance, Maera began her descent from Vhagar's saddle, her fingers gripping the ropes tightly as she carefully navigated her way down. As she reached the ground, she was met with the sight of her husband standing before her, his arm outstretched in a silent invitation.

Maera hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as he guided her the last few steps down. His usually stoic demeanor softened, replaced by a sense of pride that radiated from him, mingled with an elusive emotion that left Maera intrigued. With Aemond's steady support, Maera finally stepped onto solid ground, a sense of accomplishment washing over her. She looked up at her husband, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity, wondering what lay behind the enigmatic expression in his eye.

As the couple strolled along the sandy beach and made their way to the castle, Maera felt a surge of pride welling up inside her chest. The experience of flying on Vhagar with her husband had been nothing short of exhilarating, and she couldn't shake the feeling of accomplishment that coursed through her veins. Conquering her fear of riding a dragon had opened up a whole new world of possibilities, and she knew deep down that it wouldn't be the last time she soared through the skies on the back of a mighty beast.

Within the walls of the Red Keep, Maera's excitement bubbled over, and she found herself chattering animatedly to Aemond about their flight. She bombarded him with questions about dragon riding, her emerald eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity. Aemond, for his part, listened attentively to her every word, subtly smiling at his wife's infectious enthusiasm and answering each inquiry with patience and warmth.

The exchange brought back memories of their childhood, when they would wander the halls of the Red Keep together, lost in conversation about books they had read or sparring matches they had won. Maera's vivacity and enthusiasm contrasted with Aemond's silent but steadfast presence, yet together they formed a perfect balance, each complementing the other in their own way. And as they walked together now, sharing in the thrill of their dragon flight, that dynamic hadn't changed.

“It is a wonder how the Old Valyrian riders somehow did this without saddles and ropes,” remarked Maera, her voice still tinged with the remnants of excitement, as she ascended the staircase beside Aemond.

“They were truly skilled riders,” Aemond replied, casting a fond glance at his wife. “Wild dragons are harder to claim. Using their scales as support to climb on top of them will be difficult. As will trying to control a beast that has no harness.”

As they continued their stroll through the corridors of the Red Keep, many nobles, still clad in funeral attire, offered respectful nods and curtsies as the couple passed by. Aemond, continuing their conversation, recounted tales of the legendary dragon riders of old. "I read Visenya had to build trust with Vhagar before she allowed the Princess to climb and ride her. Once Vhagar deemed her worthy, Visenya settled between two of Vhagar’s spines and secured herself with a simple rope and some determination.”

Listening intently, Maera couldn't help but interject with a hint of sarcasm, "Well, that doesn't sound terrifying at all." Her tone laced with irony, she couldn't fathom the bravery it must have taken to undertake such a feat, even as her imagination painted a vivid picture of the daring princess and her bond with the majestic Vhagar.

Aemond chuckled at Maera's dry humor, a twinkle of amusement in his violet eye. “You can ride a dragon very well, issa daria," my Queen, he remarked, his tone warm with admiration.

"And how would you know, issa darys?" My King, Maera countered with a playful challenge. "You have only seen me do it once."

Aemond met her challenge with a confident smirk and a tilt of his head. "I know for a fact that you can ride one dragon skillfully, wife, as I have enjoyed the sight of you doing it many times," he replied coyly, his tone laced with suggestion.

Maera couldn't help but roll her eyes at Aemond's playful remark, a blush creeping onto her cheeks at his unabashed flirtation. Their time together that day was but a fleeting moment of pure happiness amidst the turmoil of their lives, and Maera cherished every second of it.

The couple’s stroll was interrupted by the rhythmic clinking of armor, alerting the pair to the approaching guards and Ser Criston Cole, his imposing figure cutting through the dimly lit corridor with an air of authority. Tall and imposing, he exuded an aura of strength and loyalty befitting his position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"My Prince, Princess," Ser Criston greeted them with a respectful nod, his voice carrying the solemnity of his station.

"Cole," Aemond acknowledged him with a nod of his own, the exchange marked by a mutual understanding.

"The King has called for a meeting in the Small Council chamber, and your presence has been requested," Ser Criston informed them, his tone carrying the gravity of the message.

Aemond turned to Maera, a silent exchange unfolding between them as he wordlessly sought her approval to attend the meeting. Maera couldn't help but smile at the gesture, touched by his consideration of her opinion. With a nod of reassurance, she granted her approval, her heart warmed by the unspoken bond that united them.

As Aemond turned to make his way to the Small Council Chambers, Ser Criston's voice cut through the air once more, adding an unexpected twist to their exchange. "His Grace requested both you and your wife, My Prince," the Lord Commander stated, his tone carrying a hint of formality.

Maera furrowed her brow in confusion, her thoughts swirling with questions. What could Aegon possibly want with her? Formal dinners were one thing, but inclusion in a formal Small Council meeting was unprecedented for a woman, save for rare occasions when the dowager queen was permitted attendance. Caught off guard by the unexpected summons, Maera's uncertainty crept into her expression. Aemond, sensing her unease, locked eyes with her once again, silently conveying his support and understanding.

In response to Ser Criston's announcement, Maera hesitated before replying with a mix of uncertainty and deference, "I dare not refuse an order from my King." Her words held a weight of resignation, tinged with a hint of apprehension at the unknown path that lay ahead.

Notes: Some fluff and lore before the drama begins 🙃

Tags: @blue-serendipity @0eessirk8 @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @abecerra611

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

[alicentsgf]

we do not talk enough about the u-turn in aemond and aegon's relationship after vhagar's claiming. before that night they were never on the same page. and we can all argue who was right or wrong that day til the heat death of the universe, but its undeniably true that at least as far as aegon and aemond are concerned the things their mother had been telling them; that rhaenyra is capable of wishing harm on them, that their father would never choose them first, that their mother only wishes to protect them, were proven to them that night. for the first time aegon 'i want my mother' and aemond 'i intend to make a gift of it to my mother' targaryen bonded over their mutual desire to protect alicent. both of them had the opportunity to take all the heat off of themselves and shift it to alicent, but neither betrayed their mother. viserys unknowingly demanded they ally themselves with one parent or the other, and they chose alicent. indefinitely.

and this is because they finally realised they would never be enough. they were both everything their father could wish for in his sons; they looked like him, trained like soldiers, and were both now dragonriders, with aemond bravely (like, you cannot deny that took Guts) claiming the largest and oldest dragon in the world and yet Viserys didnt care. so they gave up on believing they could earn his love.

by the time we see them again, they're bonded. even if their relationship isnt warm there's very much an deep understanding between them. their joint disdain for viserys is clear when he announces how he 'loves them all' and they communicate silently throughout the entire dinner, taking the lead from each other in when to retreat and when to attack. people overlook them in that scene on driftmark in favour of considering alicent and rhaenyra, which is fair enough, but its aemond and aegon it holds the most significance for.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Bound in Fire and Blood [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: You are the younger twin sister of Aemond Targaryen and the second youngest child to King Viserys and Queen Alicent. Growing up you were extremely close to your twin brother, practically inseparable and as you continued to grow, you realized your feelings for him were more than just a sibling love….

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a story of incest (obviously, it’s Game of Thrones). It contains strong depictions of sexual content and blood. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings in this chapter: Contains spoilers from the book that have not appeared in the show yet and contains the death of a child.

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Son For a Son

The room fell silent when the Green Queen chose her younger sister’s daughter. The tears rolled down your cheeks looking over at Helaena. You could not feel too much anger with your dear sister because you would have chosen one of her children if it were you, Maelor perhaps since he was still too young to remember this event.

The bulkier man clicked his tongue. “Tha’ ain’t a son, now is it?”

No, Aemond was unfortunate enough to only have a daughter. Some tales mention that he named his sole child his heir, however, others say how he was disgusted not only by his daughter but by his wife. Most find the latter to be false considering in the true texts, it was stated how the twin green dragons had a bond that none have seen before.

“P-please,” Helaena choked a bit on her words. “I chose, n-now, let us go!”

The two men exchanged a look and the room went silent. With one quick motion, the body of Jaehaerys fell to the ground and the men ran off with his head. Your sister’s screams echoed in the room as you rushed to untie your mother, tears in your eyes. You went for the crying children next, holding them close as Alicent rushed to console Helaena.

Your eyes stayed on the headless corpse of your nephew though, feeling your left eye twitch. Memories of Vhagar snatching Lucerys in her jaws came rushing back through your mind. Another innocent life was taken because of this damn war and it felt as though there was only one person to blame.

"Mama," Vhaenys whimpered out, clutching onto your skirts when you tried to move.

You looked down at your daughter with a small frown as you pulled her close to you. Part of you felt guilt for even thinking that you were thankful for it being one of Helaena’s children instead of your own.

“It is over, sweet one,” You whispered to her kissing the side of her head.

Your eyes wandered over to your elder sister, frowning as her wails echoed throughout the chambers. You slowly let go of the crying children while standing up.

“Mama, stay,” Vhaenys whimpered grabbing onto your skirt.

“I am only going to your father,” You whispered to her with a small smile, your own eyes red rimmed. “I will be back.”

You stroked back her silver hair gently before you pulled away and made your way out of your mother’s chambers. In that moment, you only saw red. It may have been the Blacks who sent the assassins, yet it was your husband’s actions that caused this.

Aemond sat in the same spot he sat in every night: at the table with a single candle lit reading over his book. It was a different one every night. He did not seem to even turn when he heard the door open, knowing who it was.

“Did Vhaenys give you any trouble tonight? Why are you late?”

You clenched your jaw as you glared at the back of Aemond’s head. “Because of you, your nephew is dead.”

Aemond furrowed his brows as he turned towards you. “Do not start with this, Y/N. Not again.”

You felt your bottom lip quiver, the tears fresh in your eyes. “An eye for an eye, a son for a son,” You choked out. “The Blacks wanted revenge for Lucerys and sent assassins to kill one of Aegon’s sons.”

Aemond’s face visibly paled at the news. “What?”

You pushed his hands off of you when he tried to touch you. “They killed Jaehaerys!” You cried out. “They killed him because you could not get over yourself for what happened all that time ago. I hope you are still content for murdering Luke,” You spat.

Aemond slowly backed towards the table, trying to comprehend the news. “V-Vhaenys…is she okay? Did they harm her?”

You shook your head. “Do not act as though you care about our daughter,” You whimpered. “You clearly did not care for a child’s life when you murdered Lucerys.”

“I care about Vhaenys,” Aemond spat back.

You sniffled and wiped your eyes, turning your back to your husband. “I am done with you and your actions, Aemond. I will not be staying in the same chambers any longer,” You croaked out and opened the door to leave.

“Y/N!” Aemond called, reaching out to grab your arm.

You pulled your arm away narrowing your eyes up at him. “Until you can prove to me you are my husband, I am not staying with you,” You spat before slamming the door behind you as you left.

The news of Aegon’s heir being assassinated seemed to spread rather quickly on the next morrow. You sat beside Aemond in the small council room, your eyes on Aegon, watching as he poured himself a glass of wine.

“Those cunts will pay for murdering my son,” Aegon exclaimed as he sat back in his chair. “And I want all of the children to be separate from Helaena for now on.”

Your eyes flickered up to the chair beside Aegon, Helaena’s chair. You had informed him of how he chose Vhaenys and his face had turned red with anger. He still considered her his daughter although everyone knew the truth and he had promised you that Helaena would not even go near your daughter.

You picked up your own wine cup, bringing it to your lips listening to your grandsire discuss the assassins; “my men are still finding them,” Otto explained. “With luck, they should not have gone far.”

Aegon scoffed. He had been irritated with his Hand for quite some time now. He was growing impatient and it was beginning to show. “They might as well have left the city by now,” He mumbled into his cup. His violet eyes met yours and a smile came onto his lips. “Y/N, I would like to have a word with you in my chambers later in the night,” He suddenly stated.

Aemond clenched his jaw. “Why must you talk with my wife in private?”

Aegon chuckled at the clear envious tone to his younger brother’s voice. “If you remember, brother, she was my wife before she was yours, but it is none of your concern as to why I need to talk with her.”

You glanced over at your husband while biting your lip gently. “If it is what you wish for, Your Grace.” You nodded a bit. “Then, I will meet you in your chambers.”

You slowly walked into Aegon’s chambers looking around. It was a bit messy from books not being placed neatly on the shelves to blankets being scattered. It was quite different than the marital chambers you used to share with him.

“You wanted to see me?” You called to Aegon who was sitting in front of the fire.

Aegon lulled his head over to you, a small smile on his lips. “I have a present for you, Y/N.”

You furrowed your brows a bit. “A present?” You laughed a bit. “What is the occasion?”

Aegon stood up as he walked over to his closet. “I heard you and Aemond have not been doing well.”

You laughed a bit. “You believe a present would have me coming back to your feet?” You questioned with a cocked brow. “You are an imbecile if you believe—“ You were cut off as he brought out a set of armor complimented with a green cloak.

“This is to resemble what Visenya’s armor looked like,” Aegon explained as he showed you. “I of course made a few adjustments.” He shrugged as he looked up at you. “I thought you would enjoy being my personal executioner, as a way to let out your aggression.”

You furrowed your brows, being at a loss of words. “Why would you gift me this?” You asked walking closer, your fingers lightly running over the cloak.

Aegon smiled as he looked down at you. There was a certain look in his eyes, something you have not seen in a very long time. “I want this to be considered as a gesture from my heart,” He responded. “What do you say, Y/N? Will you accept my gift?”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. You knew his motive, you were not an idiot. You furrowed your brows a bit before slowly nodding. “Thank you, Your Grace. It would be my honor.”

{tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @50svibes || @alexandra-001 || @ateliefloresdaprimavera || @bellameshipper || @billihill || @bravado07 || @bregarc || @bubblebuttwade || @chosogb || @clairacassidy || @claudie-080102 || @daddysfavoritesexkitten || @darylandbethfanforever9 || @deadgirldreaming || @derzauberermitlilabademantel || @eddies-bat-tattoos || @eumorele || @hansensunshine || @highexpectationsgurl || @ipostwhatifeel || @kaitieskidmore1 || @ladybug0095 || @l1-l4 || @mendes-bae || @mirandastuckinthe80s || @m00n5t0n3 || @multitargaryen || @muthafuckingstargirl || @neenieweenie || @princessmiaelicia || @sakuramadae || @thegirlwithoutaname87 || @watermel0nsugarhigh || @whenmypartysover || @xcharlottemikaelsonx || @yckaar || @zgzgzh }

[mawofmeraxes]

honestly I feel like anyone who thinks that Rhaena had a birthright to Vhagar and that aemond “stole”her doesn’t really understand exactly how dragons work in this universe. The second Laena died (RIP queen) Vhagar was a completely free dragon. Anyone could claim her. But honestly that doesn’t even mean just anyone could. Targaryens don’t just claim their dragons, because they are NEVER in complete control of them. The dragons choose who will ride them because there is a special bond. Vhagar CHOSE aemond to be her rider. If she didn’t want him he would have been gobbled up by granny. Like we have no idea if Vhagar would have accepted Rhaena as her rider but just because Vhagar was her mothers does not mean that she immediately became Rhaena’s. Like meemaw’s a war dragon, I feel like in her mind she knew her next rider would be committing various war-crimes (babygirl aemond)

[written-in-flowers]

Fly Away: Pt. 3

Pairing: Young!Aemond x Young!Velaryon!Reader | Side pairing: Rhaenyra x Alicent, Aegon x Helaena

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Au: friends to lovers, childhood love, 

Tags: incest (duh), slight homophobia expressed, repressed feelings, mutual pining, teenage runaways, mentions of bullying, arrange marriages

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Young love overcomes all in a family full of broken bonds and broken hearts. When Princess Y/N Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen are discovered missing from their beds, their mothers must come together to find them. The search might do more for their families than a mere marriage pact can. 

A/N: want to clarify now that we stick with young!Aemond throughout the story. Ewan’s Aemond comes in at the very end. This is mainly done starting a bit before The Princess and the Queen and a little bit after the events at Driftmark. I do pull some scenes from the show, but it remains relatively loose throughout. Want to also point out that The Dance doesn’t happen in this universe, so...happy ending expected, because we need more of those.  

Taglist: @yitish @imjustboredso  @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @discowizard88

@mddieeunson​

Previous Chapter < Part 2 | Next Chapter > Part 4

****

"Princess! Princess Y/N!" 

Your lady-in-waiting shoved you awake, and you stared around groggily. Outside, the sky turned completely dark, the moon giving rays of light to the blackness outside. How long have you slept? You weren’t sure. 

"Wha-What is it, Helen?" 

"It's your brothers," she whispered, "Something awful has happened."

Her words lifted you from sleep. You pulled on your bed robes and followed her into the main hall of High Tide. Everyone stood around near the fire, its blazing hearth bringing an orange glow to the gray room. Your eyes searched the room for Jace and Luke, who stood with your mother. Luke, the smallest, turned his head to see you rushing over to him. You bent down to see the blood streaming from his nose, and the gash on the bridge of his nose. You moved his hand to let you take a better look; it made your stomach turn. You saw blood caked on the side of Jace’s face, and you examined him as well.  

"What happened?" You asked, fretfully. "What happened, Jace?" 

"They attacked me!" 

It was Aemond who spoke. You turned around to see him sitting with the maester. Something was wrong. Very wrong. You saw blood on his face and nose; his blond hair messy, damp and blown back from his face. Queen Alicent sat at her son's side, tearful and face full of dread and concern. Tears streamed down her face as she sat beside him. Then, you noticed it: the long, bloody stitch going from his forehead to his cheekbone. It slashed right through his left eye. 

"He attacked Baela!" Jace yelled back, and the shouting started up again. 

They'd taken his eye. Who'd done it? Jace? Luke? No, they're not capable of such cruelty. You couldn't imagine your brothers purposefully bringing a knife to a fight. As each child screamed out pieces of the story, you learned what happened: Aemond claimed Vhagar, the oldest and largest of dragons, and that had upset Rhaena, whose mother rode Vhagar. You understood her anger, but couldn't help thinking that dragons aren't inherited. Vhagar chose Aemond because she sensed something inside him. At least, you thought so. Who truly understood the ways of dragons? You personally thought he was brave for approaching her. Despite being a dragon rider yourself, you would've run at the sight of the monstrous beast. Your eyes met Aemond’s from across the room, and the boy immediately turned away. You frowned.

He must be in so much pain.

"He called us 'bastards'," Jace said quietly to your mother. 

The word snapped you out of your thoughts. You weren't surprised. The rumors that spread for years eventually boiled over into this terrible incident. For a brief moment, you resented Aemond for the insult, since he’d thrown it at your brothers. But then, his one eye looked back at you again, saw you staring, and turned around. Your grandfather appeared, using his walking stick to balance himself as he approached Aemond. He demanded the whole story. Aemond said nothing. He sat there, staring up at his father with what you considered hatred. You understood why immediately. The King did not give a single sympathetic word to Aemond. He did not comfort his son, who’d lost his eye, or demand punishment be served on either side. He sounded as if blamed Aemond for what happened, and the pity returned. 

“Vile insults were levied against them,” your mother’s voice broke you from your thoughts. 

“What insults?” 

“The legitimacy of my sons’ birth was put loudly to question,” she answered, holding Luke’s hand still. “My sons stand in line to inherit the Iron Throne. This is the highest of treasons.”

‘No, what you did is the highest of treasons, Mother,’ you couldn’t help thinking. Slowly, you shut your eyes and pushed the thought away. That isn’t fair. 

“Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we may learn where he heard these rumors.” 

You turned to your mother. Your mother showed no concern for the boy, her half-brother, who’d been maimed. It sounded so unlike her. Your eyes fell on Queen Alicent. If Aemond heard them from anyone, it’d be his mother. Those rumors are the reason she chose you for Aemond, instead of Helaena for Jace. As expected, Aemond protected his mother and named Aegon as the culprit. You didn’t doubt it, but you didn’t fully believe it either. What stunned you the most was the disregard your grandsire had for his own son. His son was disfigured. You knew you’d proclaim some sort of justice for your child’s eye if the roles were reversed. You’d tell both parties to apologize to one another; you’d comfort Aemond during this traumatic moment. The insult is vile and cruel. It brings into question everything about your mother and brothers. 

But Aemond, your betrothed, lost his eye. 

“We know, Father,” Aegon said. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

You preferred not to. You looked at Aemond again. He did not turn around this time. A flurry of mixed emotions whirled around in your chest. Your brothers are injured. Accusations about their legitimacy were said out loud. Aemond attacked your brothers in, what sounded like, self-defense. He broke Luke’s nose and nearly killed Jace with a rock. But, he’d lost his eye, a thing he’ll live with forever. You wanted to reach out to embrace him, yet wanted to embrace your brothers as well.  

You stood by as your grandsire claimed he’d remove the tongue of anyone who slandered the princes’ births ever again. Not a single word said for the son who’d been wounded or any solution or discipline for the person who caused it. You loved Luke and Jace, but they’d acted in violence. Aemond might be injured, yet he’d been violent as well. It’d been four, including Rhaena and Baela, against one. Aemond only did what Targaryens had done for centuries: claimed a dragon. If your grandsire truly wished to end the infighting, he’d reprimand both sides and make them apologize to one another. He did no such thing. As expected, he favored your mother over any of his other children. 

You pitied them. 

Queen Alicent, in her rage, took the king’s blade and turned on your mother. A ripple of shock went through the room before your mother stopped her hand. You couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but you then saw the silver blade be slashed down into her wrist. You went forward towards her, and saw the bleeding gash underneath her sleeve. 

“Do not mourn me, Mother,” Aemond said to his mother, who stood in shock at what she’d done, “It was a fair exchange.” His eyes looked back at you, “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

The room fell silent at his words. Soon, people around you cleared the room, but you stayed put. You watched Aemond hug his mother, putting his head on her chest as she embraced him. His eye met yours, and you froze. How did you convey pity without words? You should have spoken out; you should have said something to comfort him, but couldn’t find the words. Looking down at your feet, you saw the small puddle of blood where your mother bled. How much more blood needs to be shed? Your mother left with Daemon, and you walked your brothers back to her chambers. You all sat by while the maester began cleaning and stitching her wound. The temptation to speak the truth came to you, but you washed it down. You knew how it’d look if you spoke your thoughts out loud. 

Unfortunately, your mother knew the look well. 

She cleared the room of the maester and your brothers before looking over at you. “What do you wish to say?” 

“Mother?”

“You’re pensive. You haven’t said a word since the incident.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Y/N, I am in no mood to be lied to.” 

You stared at her. You fiddled with a corner of your bed robe, staring into your lap. “The King did nothing.”

“What?”

“His son is brutally injured,” you said carefully, “And he did nothing. He didn’t appear to even care. He only spoke to Aemond to scold him.”

“Because he made false allegations against your brothers. It is considered treason to even question it. The King needed to question him to learn where he heard the rumors.”

“His son loses an eye and nobody is punished in any way.”

“So, you agree with The Queen? That we should’ve let her remove your little brother’s eye?”

“Of course not,” you looked up at her, “But you cannot say that they are guiltless. Both sides acted out of violence due to this family rivalry; both sides should have been spoken to on what they did so they can understand the wrongness. They should have been made to apologize to one another, truthfully apologize. The King should have spoken to you and The Queen alone; not in a place so crowded where everyone could listen.”

“Speak to us? Why?”

“You are their parents,” you said. “This insistent infighting started with the both of you. Mother, I do not know what event caused you and Queen Alicent to become so distant from each other, but it’s influenced your sons. Grandfather told me you and Queen Alicent were once good friends. Best friends.” You could tell you’d wounded her further with your opinions, but they are yours. She looked at the injury on her arm, still fresh and bleeding. You rounded the table to the maester’s seat, picked up the gauze cloths on the table, and began wrapping it gently. “My marriage to Aemond is meant to bridge the schism between our families. How can that happen if both sides continue to fight regardless?” 

“You blame me then?”

“And the Queen,” you admitted. Your hand shook slightly as you wrapped the wound. Your stomach lurched at your own words. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for speaking the truth. “I think if you and The Queen found a common ground, genuinely talked to one another…I think that example will encourage your children to make amends as well. The rivalry only grew from the wounds made long ago.” You saw the hard stare on her face. “I love you, Mother. I love you more than anything; I will do anything you ask of me. I’m even marrying Aemond, who was not my choice of husband. You asked for my thoughts, and I am telling you how I feel.” The shame filled your chest, and tightened there. 

She stared at you for a moment longer, then put her hand over yours. The stony expression softened. You could tell she looked for the right words to say. Then she said: “I do not think a bridge could be made, little dove,” she told you, “Especially after tonight. She wanted to cut out my son’s eye; she would have were I not there. That is something I cannot forgive easily.”  She gazed at you, “You are a child, Y/N. You do not understand the history. It is not something I can mend on my own, and The Queen has made her feelings clear. Do you truly believe it was Aegon he heard those rumors from? We both know who really said them.”

“Are they truly rumors, Mother?”

“Y/N,” she snapped. 

“I am not a fool, Mother, and neither is anyone else.”

“How could you…I would never have believed…” she took a deep breath, letting go of your hand, “Your brothers have Valyrian blood in their veins, just like you do.” 

“Yes, because they are your sons,” you told her. “But everyone knows they’re not-”

“-That’s enough,” she cut you off. “You’ve spoken fairly out of line, and I will not be scolded by my own daughter.”

“Mother, I was not-”

“-The fact you even think this is astounding to me. It’s hurtful-”

“-Mother, I’m sorry that I spoke out of line. I was only speaking my mind-”

“-And clearly you think poorly of your own family-”

“-I do not think poorly of you at all,” you pleaded. You stood up suddenly, your hands sliding from between hers. “It only scares me that this petty rivalry between our houses has cultivated in violence. We should be trying to apologize and forgive each other for past transgressions instead of continuing this fighting-”

“-You are a child. What do you know about transgressions?” she took a deep breath and looked away from you, “Go to your quarters. Now. You need to pack for the journey.”

“Mother, I-”

“-Go to your chambers. That is an order.”

You faltered, “Yes, Mother. I’ll call the maester back in to-”

“-Don’t bother. Just leave.”

You turned away from your mother and walked back to your room with your head up high. Tears blurred your vision; guilt and shame filled your bones, but you continued walking. You’d only done what she asked. It was no fault of yours that she didn’t like the response. Yes, you’d overstepped bringing up Jace and Luke’s birth, yet it hurt that your mother expected you to remain blind to the truth. It was not as if you’d said in full view of everyone. You’d spoken your mind to her, and only her. You regretted saying a word. Your mother suffered so much through the night, and you bringing up the past deepened the wound. She hates you now. So will Jace and Luke, if they ever hear what you said. 

Once you reached your bedchamber, you found your maids already packing your things. You saw the bed nearby, and wished to climb into it and cry. 

“Get out. All of you,” you said, the lump in your throat thickening your voice. “I don’t wish to be disturbed.” 

They bowed and left, shutting the door behind them. The moment the door closed, your tears finally broke free. You felt ashamed to have ever accused your mother that way. It’d be better to remain ignorant from now on. If your grandsire can do it, surely you can as well. Does it truly matter in the end? They are your brothers regardless. Standing by the fire to warm your numbing body, you cried harder. You’d never meant to hurt your mother. You love her. She must know that. You’d only offer a solution to the entire situation, even if it is a hard one.

A gentle knock came to the door, and one of the maids opened the door. “What do you want? I said I did not wish to be disturbed,” you sniffled, not looking at her. 

“But…It is the prince.”

“Tell Aegon he can properly fuck off,” you hissed, the words unbefitting a princess. 

“It’s not Aegon.” 

Aemond’s voice came softly through the room. You couldn’t face him. You didn’t want him to see you crying like a baby. The door closed again, and you knew Aemond stood nearby watching you. You needed to say something. The boy lost his eye because of your brothers and saw no justice for it. 

If you showed some good will and intentions, they might take a cue from you to do the same. 

“My prince,” you sniffled again, turning slowly to face him. The maester wrapped Aemond’s wound, the cloth barely contrasting against his fair skin and blond hair. “What brings you here? You should be resting before the journey home.”

“You’re crying,” he ignored your statement and came over to you. “Why are you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” you lied. 

Aemond reached up to your cheek, and used his thumb to wipe your tears. “When you’re my wife,” he said, “Anyone who makes you cry will have to answer to me.” He then added, “If you still wish to be, that is.”

“What makes you say that?”

He hesitated. His hand felt soft against your cheek, a gesture that made your cheeks warm. Briefly, you remembered the beach and how he’d looked at you. “Look at me,” he told you, letting go of you, “What girl would want to marry me when I…I’d understand if you didn’t wish to marry me anymore.” 

“I don’t believe I have that choice.” Especially not after what you’d said to your mother. “My mother’s been quite insistent that we marry.”

“So has mine…until now. She said she’d break the betrothal if my father didn’t demand it.” 

“How would you feel if she did that?”

“Do you wish for the truth?”

“Always.” 

“I’d feel everything I did last night would be for nothing.”

His words gave you pause. “For nothing? Aemond, you’ve wanted a dragon since you knew what they were. Everyone in our family has one except for you. You’ve nearly gotten killed approaching them in the dragon pit. How could claiming Vhagar be for nothing?”

“I only went to her because I thought that, perhaps, if I had a dragon you’d like me more.” The notion made you laugh softly, but he continued, “I ride Vhagar now. She’s the largest dragon in the world. She’s the last of the dragons to witness Aegon’s Conquest. The greatest of dragonriders have ridden her throughout history. I thought if I claimed her, you’d want me to be your husband.” The glimmer of hope dimmed when he said, “Then your brother took my eye.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t attacked them-”

“-They attacked me first; all four of them attacked me at once. I was defending myself.”

“Because you’d hit Baela.”

“I didn’t hit her. I pushed her. She hit me first, all because I took her mother’s dragon. I was only doing what the other riders do.” 

“I’m a dragonrider, and I’d never do that to someone else. You were wrong to take Vhagar like that.” 

“It’s not my fault that her sister didn’t claim her mother’s dragon,” he said, anger rising in him. “Dragons aren’t heirlooms. You cannot steal a dragon from someone.”

“But you knew they’d at least let Rhaena try first. She doesn’t have a dragon either,” you then said, “How would you feel if someone took your chance at having a dragon from you?”

“She’ll get her dragon someday.”

“Answer my question, Aemond. How would you feel?” He didn’t respond immediately. The fire inside him died out at your question. “You’d be upset, wouldn’t you?” you asked. 

“What does that matter? I ride Vhagar now.”

“It matters because as a prince you must show compassion and empathy for others,” you said. “If you should ever rule one day, you need to show your subjects that you are capable of understanding and sympathy.”

“I’m never going to rule because your mother is heir to the throne, and your brothers will inherit afterwards-”

“-And one day I might be queen and you’d be my king consort and I don’t think I’d want to rule with someone who can’t show an ounce of sensitivity.”

“You’ll never be queen,” he sneered. 

“And why not?”

“Because of your brother. He’s the next male heir. It’s the male heir who gets the crown.”

“If that was true, why didn’t Grandfather name Aegon heir when he was born?”

“Aegon’s a fool. He’ll never be a good king. Anybody with eyes could see that.”

“Then who should have been named an heir when he didn’t know he’d be having more children?”

“He could’ve named me,” he said. “He could’ve named me his heir, then I’d be king. I ride the largest dragon. I’m the one who pays attention at lessons, and trains with a sword. I’m the one  who is betrothed to the prettiest girl at court, and you’ll be my queen-”

“-As if I’d want to be your queen after what you said about my brothers-”

“-I didn’t lie. Everyone knows it-”

“-Y/N?”

You both turned to see Jace and Luke at the door. Jace’s eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of Aemond standing so close to you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, “Why are you in my sister’s room?”

“I came to speak to my betrothed without interruption,” he replied sharply. “I’m allowed to do that.”

“There is no way I’m letting you marry my sister,” he said. “My mother is going to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Your mother can’t overturn my father’s commands. He is the King.”

“And I’ll be king one day,” Jace said, “And when I’m king, I’m going to annul your marriage so my sister doesn’t have to spend a single moment in your company.”

“Oh please, Jace,” you scoffed, stepping between them. “Have you two not fought enough today?” you asked them both. “Hasn’t enough blood been spilled already? Prince Aemond has already been maimed, and our brother has a broken nose.” 

“A wound he caused!”

“A wound you repaid with a dagger,” you turned on him. “Why did you have it in the first place?”

“In case I needed it,” he defended. “He tried to kill us. He tried to kill Baela and Rhaena.”

“I doubt he was really going to do it, Jace.”

“He called us ‘bastards’! Why are you defending him?”

“I am not defending him, but you cannot say you took no part in what happened last night. Everyone,” you turned back to Aemond, “In this situation is wrong. We are all family. We should be united, not divided. Aemond was wrong for taking Vhagar. Baela was wrong for hitting him; and he was wrong for hitting her in turn. You and Luke were both wrong to beat him. He was wrong to call you bastards and to threaten to kill you. Luke was certainly wrong for slashing his face. Nobody here truly meant the things they did or said. All of these wrongs were done in an explosion of violence and resentment.”

“Resentment?”

“Yes, Jace, ‘resentment’. A resentment our parents' started a long time ago.” You didn’t know how else to make them see it. You felt helpless. You are screaming into an empty void; hitting a wall that refuses to be knocked down. “We should be standing together, not apart. I’m marrying Aemond to help our families build an alliance again. We are family. We are the crown. If we’re…if we’re always fighting and hurting one another, what sort of image does that show the rest of the realm?” You saw Luke’s and Jace’s faces harden, “Now, say your apologies. All three of you.”

“I’m not apologizing. I was defending myself,” Aemond snarled. 

“We’re not apologizing either. We were defending ourselves.”

“We were.” 

Fresh tears started filling your eyes again. It might be as hopeless as you thought. “Get out of my room. All of you.” 

“Y/N…” Aemond reached out to you, but you stepped away from him. You saw him glare back at your brothers before storming out. Jace and Luke stayed where they were. 

“I said ‘leave’.”

“How could you defend him?” Jace asked, appalled by your words. “He called us names and hit us. He was going to bash my head with a rock, and he broke Luke’s nose.”

“I’m not defending him, Jace-”

“-We’re your brothers. You’re supposed to side with us.”

“I never said I was not on your side-”

“-It looks that way.”

“And then you hurt Mother’s feelings,” Luke chimed in. “She was crying when we went to see her and you were the last person there.”

“You hate us. You think we’re bastards too, and you hate us,” Jace concluded. “That’s why you’re so keen to marry Aemond.”

“I don’t hate you,” you sobbed. “You’re my brothers. I could never hate you. I only wish for my family to get along.”

“You might as well go to King’s Landing with your precious betrothed and leave our family alone!” 

“Jace, you don’t mean that.” 

“What’s going on in here?” 

Your father finally made his appearance. He looked between your brothers and you, and stepped into the room. “Y/N,” he came over to you, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears, “What is happening?”

“She keeps defending Aemond!” Jace answered. “She probably thinks we deserved what we got.”

“No, no, no, Father, that’s not true,” you wept, shaking your head. You wrapped your arms around his middle, and sobbed into his chest. “I want my family to love each other like other families. I don’t want my marriage to Aemond to be for nothing. I love my family. I love you, and Mother, and Jace, and Luke, and Joffrey, and the King and the Queen and Aemond and Haelaena, and-”

“-That’s quite enough, little dove,” he comforted you, rubbing your back and holding you tightly. “Boys,” he looked to your brothers, “Go get ready to leave.”

Your eyes met Jace’s, seeing them full of bitterness, and he turned to leave with Luke behind him. Your father looked down at you, frowning at your fresh fall of tears, “I understand you only have the best intentions, Y/N. What happened last night must have disturbed and hurt you as well as your mother. But, the things that have happened between our families cannot easily be mended.” 

“They can be if both sides are sincere.”

He wiped your cheeks again, then said, “You truly are the best of us, Y/N.” He kissed the top of your head, then said, “We’re leaving soon. Try resting for a bit before we go.” 

He pecked your forehead one more time, then left you. Then, your maids returned to finish packing your things while you rested on your bed. When the time came to leave Driftmark, you said your farewells to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and hugged your cousins Baela and Rhaena. You walked outside, the sea-salt winds blowing through your coat and hair, to see your dragon, Starshine, being saddled by Dragonkeepers. Dark blue with flecks of gold on her scales, the she-dragon turned her head when you approached her. Finally, someone who didn’t hate you. You walked up to her, petting her long neck as she purred. 

“Good morning, Star,” you said softly in High Valyrian, so only she heard you. “Ready to leave?” 

She ruffled her neck, and you took that to mean ‘yes, please’. You couldn’t agree more. You’d been about to mount when a voice called out to you. When you looked, it was your mother; your brothers stood a few feet behind her, watching you from afar. Jace must’ve told her what happened. You nearly considered jumping onto Starshine and flying away before she could say anything. 

“Y/N?” she said once she reached you, “I wanted to speak to you before we went home.”

“Yes, Mother?”

“I…” she sighed deeply, “I’m sorry for how I reacted to your opinions. I asked you for them, and became angry when you answered honestly. I do not wish for you to be scared to tell the truth or think you can never confide in me again.” She took both your hands, “Your heart is in the right place. It’s in a far better place than most people’s. But, there are some wounds that cannot be mended with apologies and good faith.”

“They can be if both sides are sincere.”

She smiled at your attempt at persuasion. She kissed your cheek and hugged you. A small relief that at least your mother didn’t hate you filled you. “Fly safe,” she said, “I will see you at home.”

“I will.”

Your mother watched you mount Starshine, then kick off into the skies. Once above the world, alone with nothing but air and clouds, you thought clearly. You could keep going. Starshine out flew all the other dragons due to her narrow body and wings. She could take you all the way across The Narrow Sea to the Free Cities of Essos. If you flew away, you won’t have to worry about family quarrels, meaningless marriage proposals, or Aemond Targaryen and the mixed feelings you had for him now. But, if you flew away, you can never make it up to your brothers. You’d never see your mother or father again. You’d never see Aemond either. So, rather than give into temptations, you flew towards Dragonstone. You saw your brothers’ dragons far ahead of you. You directed Starshine closer to them in minutes, then guided her into the empty space between them. Through the clouds, you saw Jace sitting upon Vermax and Luke riding Arrax. Jace turned his head to see you and your dragon. Not much needed to be said. With a cheeky smile, you encouraged Starshine to fly a bit faster. You didn’t know whether they’d take the challenge or not, but you tried. 

Your answer came when Vermax soared overhead, and you heard a faint, “You’re on!” in the distance. 

You let Vermax win.

****

“…I do not know what event caused you and Queen Alicent to become so distant from each other, but it spilled onto your children. ”

Oh, you sweet girl. Rhaenyra stood on the balcony watching the King’s ship sail away back towards King’s Landing. She watched the blue and gold Starshine quickly fade into the clouds alongside Vermax and Arrax. She had no desire to leave just yet. Her eyes followed Starshine into the clouds, then surveyed the ships below. Her father and Alicent will be on one of those heading back home. She absentmindedly touched her wrist, and remembered the events of last night. 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot once again.”

Alicent’s words haunted her. Duty? She’d done her duty by marrying and having children. They may not be Laenor’s children, but they are still hers. Sacrifice? She’d sacrificed so much. She’d almost listed the things she’d given up to live up to her responsibilities. She’d given up freedom, agency, and the person she’d freely given her heart to: Alicent herself. Rhaenyra knew deep down Alicent’s resentment comes from her father’s neglect of her children. She isn’t blind. She knows her father favors her over her other siblings; it’s this love that’s saved her from the executioner’s blade. Rhaenyra did not ask for that; she never asked him to dismiss his other children, her siblings. Alicent must know that. She must. 

You’d been right, of course, though she’d never admit it out loud. The bad blood that’d filled the distance between her and Alicent made a new river towards their children. Rhaenyra never intended that either. 

“...You take my son’s eye, and to even that you feel entitled…”

It had been a regrettable accident. Luke and Jace defended themselves, that was all. It was not as if they’d held Aemond down and removed the eye on purpose. He’d repeated his mother’s vile accusations, and attacked her children. They’d done nothing that no other person wouldn’t have done. Jace brought the blade in case he needed to defend himself, which he did. Luke only protected his brother from a brutal attack. Her shock flared into anger at the demand that Lucerys’s eye be removed as payment for Aemond’s. Alicent, always hiding behind her righteousness and piety, now showed her true colors to everyone. Everyone will think she’s gone mad. 

But you. You had seen the situation for what it is: the climax of a long-standing rivalry. Laenor told her what you’d said to him; how you’d tearfully told him you loved your family and that things could be mended. Rhaenyra admired your hope. You truly had the best intentions, but there are times when that is not enough. After last night, Rhaenyra doubted she’d speak to Alicent ever again. Any possibility of the two families coming together is broken now. It pained her to think about it. She’d no doubt call for your betrothal to Aemond be rescinded. Rhaenyra could not agree more. Rhaenyra refused to marry her only daughter to a boy who’d insulted and attacked her sons. She thought of writing to her father once she returned home. But, she knew what he’d say:

‘Their marriage will strengthen the bond between our houses.’

And, deep down, she knew you’d be devastated. But, how could you still want to marry the boy after what he’d done? If you truly loved your brothers, you’d ask for it yourself. 

No, that’s not fair. She knew you loved your brothers, but you’d grown to love Aemond as well. She imagined the conflict you must be suffering, and wished she could resolve it for you. This incident will undoubtedly solidify any bad feelings between the families. She did not know if this would be mended so easily. 

“…Grandfather told me you and Queen Alicent were once good friends. Best friends.”

They’d been more than that, she remembered. Their soft kisses in the sand led to a closer relationship. Once she’d tasted Alicent’s lips, she’d wanted more. The urge to fly away with her became stronger with every minute in her company. Nobody made her feel so weak and vulnerable. Not Ser Criston. Not her uncle, Daemon. Not even Harwin, whom she’d loved and birthed children for. Alicent took part of her heart and ran with it, and Rhaenyra let her keep it, for she’d given Rhaenyra a piece in return. She thought they’d be together forever. But, right as their love blossomed into a vibrant flower, the weeds of life strangled and pulled it down from the sky. 

The ambitions of Lord Otto Hightower forced the wedge that kept them apart for so long.

****

A/N: Oooh, this really brings things into a more complicated place! I hope you guys enjoyed this part, don’t be shy to let me know what you think <3