#aegon i targaryen x reader

[missglaskin]

Yandere Aegon's Conquest (platonic) headcanons

AKA Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys as your yan!parents + Aenys and Maegor as your yan!Brothers

Characters: Aegon the conqueror, Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen, Maegor & Aenys Targaryen, Orys Baratheon

Note: Adopted and female!reader, toxic relationships, some interpreted romance/incest, Fire and Blood spoilers

You may have joined the Targaryen family through any of them. Brought to King's Landing as an offer, a hostage from Dorne. Whatever the reason was, you have now become the obsession of three dragon riders.

Naturally, there was some opposition at first. It's enough to keep a whole kingdom together; with lords either bending the knee willingly or by force, having the faith tolerate their marriages, and now they bring a child into the fold who didn't seem to bear much resemblance.

Yet despite widespread opposition, there was utter silence when it became evident what would happen if someone were to comment on your legitimacy. It's frightening to face Aegon's wrath, but he and his sisters combined; downright terrifying. 

They tended to differentiate when it came to ways of parenting. You would have likely been overindulged if it weren't for Visenya, who adopted a stricter role in place of Rhaenys and Aegon. On the other hand, it's Aegon who adopts the role of the meditator, keeping the peace whenever his wives come to disputes.

Orys is the only one Aegon truly trusts along with his sisters and despite Rhaenys and Visenya sharing Aegon's trust, they're not exactly thrilled about sharing you with anyone else. It’s noticed how quickly Orys steps into the role of an uncle, adding more fuel to the gossip (being Aegon’s brother). Like everyone else, he's just as protective and is more than willing to personally handle anyone who dares to cross you. But also similar to Aegon, beyond being protective, he's pretty laid-back. During your younger years, he'd times have you seated on his lap or playfully throw you up in the air.

As mentioned, Visenya is fiercely protective and sometimes may come off as a bit harsh, but her intentions are solely for your well-being. Her kingsguards are not only ordered to protect the king but are specifically trained to protect their little princess. She’s involved in your education, ensuring that you embrace your ‘Valyrian’ heritage. 

Each day she’ll have you rehearse your words, recount the history of your family house, and fulfill all your supposed duties. It’s Aegon and Rhaenys who urge Visenya to give you a break from time to time (not just because they want to spend time with you). Visenya also insists on training you despite her brother and sister’s wishes. Rhaenys thinks your gentle hands shouldn’t touch a blade with Aegon claiming you’re protected enough.

While they might disagree on many things, both Aegon and Rhaenys agree with Visenya's idea of giving you your own dragon egg. Given as a gift on your nameday. And even if the dragon hatches and you may never ride it, they are sure to let it recognize you as their owner; to let it be yours and yours only. Besides it’s further proof to the rest of the kingdom that you’re indeed one of them.

Like Visenya, Rhaenys is very much involved in your life and rarely lets you out of her sighs. She’s much smothering and the most affectionate out of her siblings, known to watch you with great fondness and expect to be praised for even the smallest accomplishments.

Rhaenys takes charge of your wardrobe, dressing you in the colors of House Targaryen and embellishing you with all sorts of jewelry. The many songs she has ensured to be dedicated, praising your elegance and beauty that they are believed to have passed down generations.

That’s not to say Aegon isn’t involved, he is but tends to be overshadowed by his sisters; finding himself stuck in the middle of their disagreements. Despite this, he makes his stance known and will use all types of excuses to steal you away. Aegon goes as far as making you his cupbearer, though while the council members are hesitant to take you away from the king's side. Only Orys dares to have you come and fill his cup.

They often find themselves in childish arguments on who you should ride with. Aegon occasionally claims victory, it helps Baelrion is the largest. In fact, whenever any of the siblings go for a flight, they are likely to bring you along. During their shared flights, they would showcase all sorts of tricks like getting close to the water or letting their dragons spit fire in the open air just to witness the excited look on your face.

Aegon spoils you (rotten) and is ready to fulfill almost all your whims and desires. While he’ll gladly gift you with jewelry and gowns like Rhaenys, Aegon is more inclined to make grand gestures like contracting statues and naming things in your honor. If you were to ask, he'd happily construct a bathhouse, a vast garden, you just need to ask.

Aegon is surprisingly someone you find it easy to turn to whenever you get in trouble, along with Uncle Orys. He's perfectly fine with you doing your own thing, playing away while he watches from a distance.

Despite their occasional arguments, at the end of the day, they are united through their care for you. You mean everything to them, and though each may express it differently, they all just want to see you happy and safe.

Adding Maegor and Aenys into the mix just makes everything more chaotic. While it's not much of a hidden secret that Rhaenys and Visenya favor you, they attempt to keep it subtle. Aegon isn't very adept at hiding it, and there have been discussions where he expresses the desire for you to be his heir instead. However, by the Westerosi tradition, Aenys is the expected heir.

Aenys and Maegor are particularly attached to you, even when their parents clearly seem to favor you. Being a bit older than Aenys, Rhaenys actively encouraged the bond between you two. She always insisted your small self to hold him and it became well-known among the castle servants that baby Aenys would cry until you came at his side. 

The death of Rhaenys threw everything into chaos. Visenya and Aegon, if possible, became even more protective, god forbid if Dorne were to make an attempt (or try to bring you back). You became the outlet for their grief, with Aegon demanding your presence more than ever. Aenys clung to you for comfort, a child who doesn’t seem to fully understand where his mother went. 

A year or two passed before Maegor was born, and he was already different from the start. Aenys, always smaller than the other kids, remained easily carried by your child self even as he grew. You'd lift him up on your back as he squealed with delight, but Visenya would scold you; your back could get hurt and Aenys is heir, he must be expected to behave like one.

Maegor, on the other hand, was bigger than most kids, with round and full cheeks that you couldn't resist poking and pulling. Similar to Aenys, he constantly demanded your attention, but unlike Aenys who cried, Maegor caused tantrums, pushing other kids you interacted with and throwing things until he got the attention he sought.

A rivalry started between the brothers, and more often than not, you found yourself in the middle of it, but it was mostly one-sided with Maegor often starting the conflicts. Moreover, Aegon directed most of his attention toward Aenys with kingdom duties and all, leaving you mostly with Maegor and Visenya.

Unlike Rhaenys, who didn't have the time to mold her son, Visenya did. She made sure that her son knows that it’s his duty to protect and care for you, deeming Aenys as weak in her eyes. Maegor learned to value you above all else. Sparring was no longer necessary, as according to Maegor he’ll be the one to protect you from now. In one incident, Maegor attacked a noble boy who had jokingly insulted you. Aegon and Visenya never punished him, with the excuse that Aegon didn't want to cause a scene.

Aenys, much like his mother, is naturally affectionate. Openly embracing you in front of the entire court or hold your hand as you walk together. Such displays of affectionate were a never-ending lecture from Visenya and Aegon and all it did was fuel Maegor’s jealousy. 

As all three of you came of age, there was a flood of suitors vying for your hand in marriage. Aegon would use any excuse to deter them, but deep down, he secretly wished to wed you to Aenys but he knows Visenya might insist on Maegor instead, further fueling the rivalry between the brothers. The reactions of your brothers toward your suitors only intensifies, with Maegor eagerly challenging anyone who seeks your hand and Aenys wearing a mask of happiness for you while secretly desiring to have you all to himself.

It becomes even messier if the brothers are wed to other women. Alyssa and Ceryse, in particular, feel the pressure to be on your good side, knowing that a gesture from you could sway their husbands in your favor. Despite being married to them, the wives can't shake the feeling of being the "other women". The awkwardness is heightened by Aenys, who insists on you being close to his children, going so far as to let you be one of the first to hold baby Rhaena. 

The family was struck with a moment of grief upon Aegon's death, leaving Visenya as the sole parent. With Aegon, and even Orys, no longer present, Visenya had the freedom to enforce her regulations and expectations without interruption. Maegor, being a wild card, proved difficult to control. Despite Aenys' perceived weakness, he stepped into Aegon's place, not directly opposing Visenya and Maegor but making it clear that you were a line not to be crossed. Your place is to be with him and his family, by his side in council. 

Aegon's death set off a chain reaction, fueling the underlying war within the family that had already been brewing.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Birth of Dragons Pt.2

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targcest, rivalry, jealousy, targaryen kid ocs

Words: 7167

Summary: Aegon the Conqueror’s family has grown to a substantial size. But with so many young and cocky dragons, someone is bound to be burned. 

Part 1

*Also it’s raining like a motherfucker in CA rn

The birth of your twins had been a joyous occasion for the Targaryen king. You’d given him two heirs who were strong and robust babes. 

The seed of the dragon would prove to be resilient. Two years later, you gave birth to another son. A beautiful boy named Rhaelor. He reminded you of your Renoxa for he possessed the pale lashes and resplendent crimson irises. When Visemarys and Baelyx first met their baby brother, they were terrified of Rhaelor’s eyes and burst into tears.

Another year passed before Rhaenys would be round with Aegon’s third child. Everyone expected her to be the next one to bear the dragon king another heir. The third son of Aegon was named Aenys. He, unfortunately, had not been blessed like his older brothers in health. Aenys was a sickly baby. Small and his limbs unbelievably stick thin. It was a wonder how he survived through infancy. You and Rhaenys would stay up so many nights watching vigil over the babe. She was beside herself and for the first time you were her pillar of strength. Fiercely supporting her, you treated Aenys as your own and did your best to care for him when you forced Rhaenys to rest. By the grace of the gods, he thrived.

Visenya however took longer to produce a child. Not until the year your twins turned seven did she finally conceive. Even then, she absolutely hated the entirety of being pregnant. Loathed the restrictions it put on her body. While Rhaenys hadn’t been too thrilled about the rounding of her body, you had absolutely adored your pregnant belly for it housed your boys who were the greatest joys of your life. At the same time she was pregnant with her first child, you were already showing symptoms of your fourth pregnancy. Visenya gave birth to a large boy she named Maegor. His screams into the world shook the glass in the windowpanes and had Aegon flinging his hands up to his ears in a vain attempt to block out the ear piercing wail.

A few months later your only daughter Aella was born. The first contractions hit you when you were flying in the air alongside Visemarys’ small dragon, teaching him how to direct Rahu to where he desired to go. Neither Renoxa or Rahu were too far off the ground in case an emergency landing was needed. A good thing considering you would have to land quickly to alert your family who had been watching from the ground. Aegon was quick to get to you with Rhaenys and Visenya (little Maegor was back at the High Hill with plenty of nannies since he was to young to be out and about) running after him. Baelyx watched with wide eyes but also kept vigil over his smaller brother Rhaelor and half-brother Aenys. You were hauled back to Aegonfort.

To your surprise, Aegon was absolutely thrilled to FINALLY have a daughter. Sons were revered above all in both Valyrian culture and Westeros. For him to be so joyous over having a daughter to call his own was heartwarming. 

“I have enough sons to hold up the Targaryen legacy.” He earnestly told you. “Five to be exact. I want to gift Westeros with another you though. A Targaryen princess will be much loved indeed.”

You and your family learned early on though that beneath her sweet and innocent countenance, there lay a headstrong and spirited personality that was as delightful as it was unpredictable. Aella was a remarkable blend of her family's qualities: tenacious like Aegon, valiant like Visenya, playful like Rhaenys and. . .

Aegon had put his hand to your chest. “She has your heart.”

A mighty heart.

As much as you were scolding the boys, you had to discipline Aella just as much. She happily got the skirts of her dress dirty when playing outside with her brothers. Little spitfire would even lick at any scrapes she got and carried on her merry way as if nothing happened. Falls did not phase, not even as a baby when she was first learning how to walk on stumbling feet. Visemarys and the younger twin Baelyx thought it was the funniest thing to teach their sister how to be an absolute gremlin. And she adored her older brothers for it. They were the ones to teach her words that were not something a lady should say (although you and your sisters said plenty of the same words). Aella got herself into many brawls with the young sons of different lords who dare say a harmful thing toward Rhaelor’s odd eyes or Aenys’ weak constitution. She would always be there to rouse them up and offer her support in any way possible. 

Then there was Aella and Maegor. . . Gods help anyone who fell upon their mischief. They were especially close having been born but months apart. If you were being honest, you did not particularly like Maegor’s influence over Aella. You loved your sister, but her son was another story. He was made of grittier material than the other children of Aegon. You knew if the throne ever fell into the hands of Maegor, well, that would be a dark day for the seven realms. Maegor would not be a kind or virtuous ruler. Thankfully, Maegor’s way to the iron throne would be a long way. Something terrible would have to happen to Visemarys first and as he grew, it was becoming unlikely that anyone besides his own father could defeat him in a sword fight. He was tall with broad shoulders and lithe limbs. You’d seen your son unarm many men who were twice his age and more seasoned a warrior. Motherly pride made you glow every time you watch him train with the others. For being the youngest son though, Maegor grew like a weed. Resilient like one too. When sparring against Rhaelor or Aenys, Maegor was the usual victor. Rhaelor despite his adventurous heart was not much of a fighter. Instead of honing his skill at the blade, Rhaelor would take off on his dragon Imorth. The dragon’s serpentine body, sinewy and elegant, stretches to an impressive length across the sky. Imorth shimmered with a myriad of greens, from deep emerald to a vibrant jade green. Many times, there would be sightings of your son and his dragon all over Westeros when he became an independent young man. He was your diplomat in spite of his odd appearance. His fair complexion and red eyes tend to spook people on the first meeting but he had quite the charming personality and managed to win over even the biggest skeptic. And Aenys, poor Aenys would never be the swordsmen the twins were or even young Maegor. Not even like Aella who had been loudly vocal on her desire to learn whatever her brothers were learning. But he was a kind boy and a scholar and had the sweetest voice when he sang. Even not being a warrior like his brothers, he still managed to receive his own female admirers.

Perhaps it was for the best she learned. Both you and your sisters were trained with a blade and fought alongside Aegon when he called upon you for assistance. Aella would be able to protect herself if the occasion called for it. She wouldn’t have to rely on any man and could fight atop of her mount, Yldri. Yldri boasted a mesmerizing appearance, scales shimmered with the softest lilac hue, like the petals of the most exquisite flowers in the kingdom. If anything, at least Aella would have a traditional Valyrian dragon rider death like her aunt Rhaenys. Rhaenys died in the war with Dorne when Aenys was just three years old. Both her and her silver dragon Meraxes. You kept yourself together for her son. You were the closest thing he’d have to his mother even though you ached for the loss of your beloved sister. 

There were moments in your grieving when you would momentarily forget her death and turn to say something to her, only to be painfully reminded that she was no longer there. Neither Visenya nor Aegon knew how to console you when you’d grow quiet in realization at your own blunder. The tears that would prick at your eyes fell without Rhaenys there to wipe them away as she always did. It was considered an honor though for one to die atop of their dragon. A fate that you and the remainder of your siblings desired. 

Your grief for Rhaenys lasts for years as you’re slow to come to terms to her no longer being by your side. Late at night you longed for her arms and her kisses. The way she completely molded to your body. She was the one you always turned to as both your sister and lover. Constantly your bedmate whether it be in a sexual way or just to sleep and protect one another. Aegon’s presence was a comfort but by no means a substitute or replacement. No one could take Rhaenys’ spot in your heart. 

**

After the Dornish War, there was a long time of peace where the children grew and prospered under its influence. The skies were filled with dragons as was the High Hill. 

**

Two dragons fly side by side with ease. The beautiful, sleek body of Imorth is larger than that of the younger Yldri. Even so, both dragons boast the most magnificent scales among the Targaryen’s seven dragons. 

Atop of the lilac mount Yldri rode the only Targaryen princess, Aella. Her silver hair grew tangled among the beating of the wind but her smile was ever prominent and cheeks bright pink. Yldri felt her joy and released a happy crowing noise as her wings beat against the open air. In response, Imorth shrieks out his own noise of enjoyment. He dives underneath the she-dragon, giving Aella a perfect glance of the top of Rhaelor’s snow white head. His emerald robes billow behind him, almost fusing with Imorth’s color. The two dragons spiraled around one another, a beautiful dance of dragonkind, their wings brushing against each other in a show of camaraderie. All the while, their riders laugh in a carefree spirit. Their responsibilities were not like those of their elder twin brothers: Visemarys and Baelyx. They were freer to goof off and spend their days in the skies with their dragons. They were not bound by the constraints of the world below. Roars reverberated across the open horizon, not in aggression but in exuberance.

An ear piercing dragon’s cry has their laughter dying down and turning in their saddles to see the larger form of Zypheros, Baelyx’s smoke gray dragon, advancing on them. Stilling their dragons into a steady gliding in place, Zypheros easily catches up with them.

Baelyx’s bangs whip around his face, his long ponytail like a ribbon behind him. When he smiles at his younger siblings, the indentation of dimples grace his face. “Both of you are requested by mother.” He calls over to them. Speaking so high up in the air tend to be difficult, especially on blustery days. “Aunt Visenya and Maegor will be arriving soon.”

Really, all Baelyx had to do was mention Maegor to get Aella’s attention. She can’t help but perk up at the prospect of seeing her other half-brother. Maegor lived on Dragonstone with his mother Visenya. Unlike herself and her other brothers, Maegor had no dragon. For as long as she could remember, Maegor always said the only dragon worthy of him was Balerion. Maybe it was true, maybe not for Balerion was a fine mount; the largest in the continent. 

Rhaelor knew his sister better than he knew anyone else. He rolls his scarlet eyes at her obvious excitement to see him though he was not as keen to see his aunt and half-brother. 

Her face plastered with a wide grin, Aella urges Yldri to land just outside of the newly constructed capital of Westeros: King’s Landing. The populace still jumped at the cry of dragons above but were slowly getting used to being around them. Aella tries to squint her eye in an attempt to see across Blackwater Bay to Dragonstone in hopes of catching sight Maegor atop of Vhagar with his mother. 

Getting closer to the Red Keep, the other dragons of her family rouse their heads as Yldri screeches her greetings. She glides by the training yard where she spots Visemarys, Aenys and Aegon the Conqueror. Their father was the picture of masculinity and authority. Already Visemarys stood at the same height as his father and only required a few more years before his muscles matched Aegon’s. Compared to them, Aenys could be a waif. Not as skinny as he used to be, he still lacks the bulk of his brothers and father. That was okay. Aenys made it up with his kind nature, smarts, and singing voice. Aella appreciated each brother for who he was. She didn’t think any less of Aenys for the fact that he was never going to be a great fighter. 

Aegon lifts his head up first to catch his daughter’s lilac dragon pierce through the sky like an arrow. He smiles to himself. She shined brightly, just like Rhaenys and (y/n). Catching even Visemarys gazing up with an expression of pure softness and affection. He’d been seeing it for some time now since Aella came of age. Visemarys AND Baelyx. 

(y/n) had noticed it as well and concern flashed on her face when she took note of her twins squaring the other up when Aella was between them. She didn’t want there to be strife among her children. Especially fighting over another sibling. Something like this would certainly prove to be a problem when Aella decides when she is ready to marry for even her mother was loathe to have her marry. After all, the mother and daughter duo was always close. As a babe (y/n) would strap Aella to her chest and take her on flights with Renoxa. Aella would be full of giggles the entire time, loving the open air and wind brushing against her fat cheeks. Her family’s pride and joy despite how often she’d be naughty. 

Taking into consideration both of his son’s interest in Aella, Aegon had thought about the perfect match for her. A union between her and Visemarys would be beneficial. She’d be queen once Visemarys was crowned king. She wouldn’t have to face any major life changes. The Red Keep would still be her home and she’d still be near (y/n) and Aegon. But he took into consideration Baelyx’s feelings as well. He was second son, youngest of the twins and the closest in line to the iron throne. An excellent marksmen with a bow and a well phrased in politics. The perfect weapon in the Targaryen belt. Baelyx even wield an assassin’s marked blade. Visemarys was brawny in strength but Baelyx was sleek like a predatory cat. Each movement he made was calculated.

Neither parent had an idea if Aella was aware of the twins’ affections for her. They’d try to support their daughter any way they could though. Whoever she chooses. Similar to his wife, one thing Aegon would never be able to get behind was Aella with Maegor. Thinking of it didn’t sit well with him. Maegor would never hurt Aella, that was not what concerned the conqueror. She’d sooner have his head on a spear if he tried to force himself onto her. His youngest son’s ambitions worried him. He saw the hunger in those eyes, the hunger of another conqueror. Westeros didn’t need one anymore. They needed a king who could continue to keep the peace and balance of the land. He’d be an amazing general were he able to be satisfied with just that. No, Maegor longed for the pinnacle of authority. Aegon didn’t want to scare Visemarys with the potential of an assassination by his own blood. That was the reality. He hoped he would be wrong in the end and perhaps Visemarys and Maegor could work things out civilly. 

A few miles away, Yldri finally lands her feet firmly upon the earth. Easily sliding off her back, Aella dusts off her skirts and pats her she-dragon on the neck. They walk the rest of the way to the mouth of what would become the Dragon Pit, a place where her family’s dragons could call home after long hours of being with their rider. Workers were still buzzing around, building the walls higher and higher to especially accommodate Belarion’s great size. 

She inhales deeply, happily. Her home was a beautiful one. Her kingdom even grander all thanks to the efforts of her father and his sisters. Aella felt immense pride in being a Targaryen, even more for being the daughter of the conqueror himself. 

Yldri playfully shakes her neck, bumping the girl in the back with her large snout. Her giggles are light as she watches her she-dragon make her leisurely way to the entrance of the Dragon Pit, already knowing that as her home. Workers scramble immediately at the sight of her and make way.

Aella scampers down the hill where the pits were situated to the outer walls of the Red Keep itself. The iron portcullis groans and lifts up from it’s stationary position in the ground. She waits patiently, waving to the guards on duty who greet her cheerfully. Above she hears the screech of Imorth and Zephyros gradually catching up to the trail she’d blazed with Yldri. 

“Welcome back, princess.” A knight smiles at her. His own eyes glance up to the smoke gray and jade green dragons twirling in the sky.

“Did you hear Maegor’s coming?” She excitedly replies. The reminder makes the knight grimace in response. There was little love for Maegor in the Keep. 

She doesn’t pay attention to the disgruntled grunt he gives her. Aella moves right past him but not to the front door of the castle. Walking around the outer bailey leads her to the training grounds where knights and soldiers alike practiced the dance of swords. The shrieking sound of steel against steel rings in her eardrums like the beginning of a song. That’s how she felt whenever she held a sword and trained with her brothers. It was all so much like dancing except more fun. There was a thrilling element to it. The dance of swords was also the fine line between life and death. One balanced on the razor’s edge when performing the intricate steps that were required to assure your life was safe. 

Men from either side of her stop what they do to give her the briefest of bows or acknowledgment. Not many men in Westeros approved of a woman taking up a weapon. But she wasn’t any woman. She would be like her mother and aunts, who didn’t need a man to protect them from danger. They could very well take danger by the horns and force them into submission. Although Aella had only seen her mother use a sword once in front of her it made a lasting impression. She became a different person when there was a sword in her hand. In that moment, (y/n) had resembled her eldest sister Visenya. 

Aenys’ hair, with pieces of hay sticking out of it, looked like a porcupine when he noticed Aella happily wandering on the training grounds. His watery hyacinth gaze crinkles as he smiles. “What has you all smiles, jorrāelagon mandia (dear sister)?”

Chipper as a bird, Aella grabs his hands and twirls him around now drawing the attention of her father and Visemarys. “Maegor and Aunt Visenya are coming!  Mother sent word out to me and Rhaelor. Isn’t it exciting!”

He shared the sentiment of everyone else as his own smile dimmed. Forcing his mouth to keep the shape of a smile, Aenys attempts to sound as lighthearted as his sister. “Is that so?”

At that moment, (y/n) Targaryen appears. Normally when she went to watch her husband and sons train, she’d shed her lovely gowns and dawn her leather trousers and tunic. Not that day. She was dressed in a gown of the softest green, perhaps thinking to match her son Baelyx. This was something endearing (y/n) did. Often she wore colors that matched those of her children’s dragons. Yesterday had been burgundy, taking after Rahu’s dark red hue.

Immediately Aegon catches the emergence of his youngest sister-wife. If possible, there were hearts in his eyes when he gazed upon her like it was the first time. Every edge of his face softens and he pats Visemarys’ back before sprinting to the stone steps that led up to the door. (y/n)’s grin is wide as she lets him sweep her up in his arms. The affection they showed to one another publicly tend to make the boys uncomfortable but Aella loves seeing her parents still enamored with one another after so many years. That was the kind of love she wanted. One to last a lifetime. Visemarys turned his face away when Aegon captures (y/n)’s lips in a passionate kiss. When he spots Aella giggling, he pretends to gag. Aenys chuckled at his family. While his mother was no longer alive, (y/n) became his surrogate mother. She cared for him the same as with her four other children. In Aenys was the last piece of her beloved sister Rhaenys left to the world. 

(y/n) whispers something to her husband that has him drawing away partially. “So Visenya is finally returning.”

His sister nods enthusiastically but her smile was stiff and Aella, from the shapes her lips moved in, knew her mother was talking about Maegor being with her as well. Aegon’s long silver-blonde hair had been tied into a braid for sword training, courtesy of (y/n)’s skilled fingers. It trailed down his back, almost to his rear. Swaying as he steps back and holds (y/n)’s hand as they both descend the stairs. 

Periwinkle eyes take in her daughter who bounds up to her. She chuckles and smooths the hair on Aella’s head even though the girl was almost the same height as her. “I see the news has reached everyone.”

“Baelyx is an efficient messenger.” Aella happily nods and holds her mom’s hands in her warm grasp. “I’m happy that Aunt Visenya and Maegor are coming after being away for so long, but is there a specific reason?”

The males of her family pay even more attention. This was something they had all been wondering. Four years ago, Aegon cut off contact with Visenya and subsequently Maegor. A big fight tore the elder Targaryen siblings apart. To begin with, Aegon held almost no romantic feelings towards Visenya. That was well known. Evidence being that (y/n) gave birth to four of Aegon’s children while Visenya only conceived one son. (y/n) however still kept in contact with her last sister. 

“It has been too long since I’ve seen my dear sister.” (y/n) confesses. By then Baelyx and Rhaelor were now entering the grounds and caught the last words of what their mother had said.  

“How long until they get here?” Rhaelor asks after giving his mother a kiss on the cheek which always delighted her. 

In return she pats Rhaelor on the cheek. “I can’t imagine it will take them long. Possibly within the hour. All of you are to wash and dress in your best. And boys, please, try your best to get along with Maegor.”

All of the Targaryen boys, even Aegon, look down at their feet. All having been guilty (except for Aenys) of antagonistic tendencies toward Visenya’s only child. 

Their maids were already waiting for them each to assist in anything they needed as all five of them were already young adults. Aella would require actual help for putting on her dress as it was many layered with ties that needed to be secured. 

They obey their mother’s instructions, but for Visemarys and Baelyx, they in particular were unhappy with Maegor’s arrival. 

**

Aegon was always handsome, whether streaked with dirt and blood or cleaned up like he was now he was exquisite. 

Reclined on the chaise lounge in his dressing room, you watch the strong muscles of his shoulders as he puts his arms through the sleeves of his clean tunic. Your eyes helplessly rove to the tapering of his waist and down to the perfect lift of his rear. 

Later. You tell yourself as you’re already imagining wrapping your legs around that delicious waist as he pounds into you, perhaps pump another child into.

For now, you had to remind your husband. “Do try to be gentler with Maegor. He already knows that he is not the favorite son. You don’t have to rub it in.”

He pauses before shoving his other arm into the corresponding sleeve. “He’s different than our boys (y/n).”

Pursing your lips, you acknowledge what he says as the truth. Maegor was definitely not like your four boys. Something unhinged about Maegor that made even you wary of him. “Regardless, you are his father.”

Turning around, his mauve eyes turn soft in regard to you. You’d voiced this before, the anticipation of discourse between the sons of the dragon dangled above your head the more Maegor was isolated. Aegon kneels in front of you, pressing your knuckles against his silky lips. “I’ll be as gentle as a lamb.”

A laugh bursts out of your chest. “Yes, gentle as a lamb coming from the dragon king himself.”

His grin curls to show off his sharp canine. “I can be gentle.” 

Yes, he was capable of being sweet and gentle to you and the rest of the kids but that was the extent. Visenya and Maegor were not granted the same kindness. He still wouldn’t tell you what exactly he and Visenya had argued about before she relocated to Dragonstone, but it must have been big. The two of them never got along, not as much as he got along with you and Rhaenys. Childhood had been no different. The eldest of the Targaryen children bickered nonstop and would even be reduced to brawling out in the courtyard. 

Lightly, you drag your lips down the bridge of his straight nose that seemed to have been sculpted by the most talented artist before placing a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. He’s practically purring at all the affection you lavish on him. Sometimes it goes to your head how he immediately becomes pudding in your hands. No one else would ever see Aegon like this. Only you. An incredible power that you alone possessed. 

The shrieking of dragons that pierce from outside alert your family that Vhagar was here.

Before allowing any of your children out into the yard to greet her, you double check their attire and move a few stray strands of silver hair that was hanging in Baelyx’s face and to tamper down Rhaelor’s naturally wild hair. A brooch on Aenys’ cloak was askew and you promptly fixed that too. He smiles down at you and you can’t help but lovingly pinch his cheek. He’d been born the weakest, but nearly towered over Aegon now. 

Prim and proper, you nod to yourself. Your wildlings, Aella and Rhaelor, could clean up nicely when they actually put their minds to it and weren’t on their dragons. Aella especially was radiant in her cream gown. Maybe too radiant. The twins were gazing adoringly at her, you could practically read the lovesick thoughts going through their head in that moment. If everyone got through today without any bloodshed, you would count it as a success. You just had to get through it then hopefully it would be smooth sailing from there once Visenya and Maegor settled in.

In the distance you could make out Vhagar’s mighty size descending to the entrance of the Dragon Pit. They’d be here shortly.

Aegon laces his fingers with your’s. “Breathe my love. You’re making the children nervous.”

So many things could go wrong. Tragedies of all sorts pierce you so that you listlessly pace in the courtyard. You miss Visenya, but you were ultimately scared of what her arrival would bring.

You give Aegon’s hand a vice-like squeeze. “Good. Maybe they’ll be on their best behavior then.” Particularly Baelyx. He had the shortest temper of all your children. His surliness could match Maegor’s which led the two to constantly butting heads when they were smaller. It didn’t take much to set off either boy. 

Shouts from guards atop of the guard tower shout the arrival of your sister and nephew. You press yourself closer to Aegon in both excitement and nerves. 

The gate rises and there stood the firm figure of your sister Visenya and the young man beside her. His hair and eyes scream Targaryen. Maegor. Unlike his brothers and father, Maegor wore his silver-blonde locks short. Suits the harsh features of his face much better in all honesty. 

They stride past the threshold, movements in perfect synchronicity that you wonder if they intended for that or if mother and son were just that much alike. 

Regardless of the bruised feelings among your elder siblings, you smile and open your arms wide to embrace Visenya. Usually she detested physical contact. She didn’t even like holding or carrying Maegor around when he was an infant. For you though. . . 

A rare and beautiful smile makes her regular stoney face crumble as she enters your arms, her own arms encircling around you. She presses you close to her body and you could practically hear her sigh in relief. “Ñuha prūmia (my heart).” She nuzzles her face against your hair. “Skorkydoso eman bōsa naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion (How I have longed to see your face).”

Tears burn behind your eyes but you’re still smiling, even more now after her words. “Ao kesīr leghagon nyke (You here completes me).”

Before she could completely break in front of everyone, Visenya tears herself away first and rapidly blinks her eyes clear. Her stoic expression returns when she glances at the rest of the family behind you. Specifically at the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself. 

“Aegon.” Her voice is frosty.

Your husband returns the sentiment in kind. “Visenya. You and Maegor appear to be doing well.” For Aegon, that was as friendly as he could be with her right now. Looks like he hadn’t forgotten nor forgiven whatever transpired between them. 

To break the iciness, you beckon your children forward. Happily, Aella is the first to greet Visenya and Maegor. Her aunt pleasantly hums and pats her on the head. “How grown you are.”

“Welcome home.” Aella tells her earnestly. Then she turns to Maegor who already has a cocky smirk plastered on his mouth. You chew on the inside of your cheek at the look he gives her. “Hello, Maegor.” She tilts her chin up to dazzle him with a smile. 

His voice is a deep rumble. “Aella.”

The other boys politely greet them in turn. You bid everyone to retire inside so that your sister and nephew could relax from their dragon ride although Visenya didn’t know the first thing about relaxing, always alert and ready for battle. War time was over but the way Visenya was, you’d think  conflict was still array in the land. Rhaelor worked well as a diplomat and was constantly going to visit all of Westeros’ wardens. Not even a whisper of friction. A few bandits here and there but nothing dire. 

In the private sitting room of the Red Keep is where your get together was reconvened. Refreshments and sweets were offered as mainly you and Aella kept up conversation. Aenys helps as much as he could as does Rhaelor so that tensions may be eased but it’s difficult when the twins and Maegor are having a staring contest. Visenya and Aegon were no better. You felt the chill coming off of them. 

“Your children are of proper marrying age.” Visenya brings up randomly as the conversation lulls to just you and your older sister. “When will you be arranging prospective partners?”

You’re caught off guard back her sudden question. You glance at the five of them. Visemarys and Baelyx will be four and twenty come the next season while Aella had just turned seven and ten two months ago. 

“We’re in no rush.” You tell her tentatively. Visenya had certain ideals that you didn’t share with her. She always thought you and Aegon coddled your children and that they grew up spoiled. 

Her eyes narrow. “What about Visemarys? He should get a start on producing future heirs.”

He stiffens next to you in his seat, uncomfortable with his aunt’s scrutiny landing fully on him. Vis was not one to be easily intimidated though, especially not by an aunt he hadn’t seen in years. She held no sway or authority here. Not like you did as the official Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

“I have already decided on my bride.” 

That stuns everyone and Visenya’s eyes visibly round at him. He keeps his face cool and collected with a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. You and Aegon wordlessly gape at each other before addressing Visemarys. 

“You have?”

“Who is it?”

“Have we met her?”

Dozens of questions flew from you and your husband. You should have known though. There was only one girl he’d ever wanted to take for himself as a wife. 

“Aella.”

Baelyx jumps to his feet and growls at his twin. “You can’t just claim her as your’s.” He gestures to their sister who sat completely perplexed that Visemarys had named her his bride. Without even discussing it in her. Her face grew red with both embarrassment and discontent. 

You put a soothing hand on Baelyx’s arm but it’s too late. He’s furious and you fear that Maegor will feed off of this negative energy as well. But he’s still sitting, perfectly restrained and smirking at his half-brothers in an arrogant way that had you wondering what he was thinking. Or plotting. 

Aegon leans to breathe something into Visemarys’ ear. Father and son stand. “Excuse us.” Without another word, they leave with Baelyx right behind them still fuming and yelling at his brother who seemingly became deaf to his irate brother. 

Heaviness still hung in the air though as the rest of you flounder for something to say. Aella angrily trembled as Aenys consoles her. He knows when a battle has been lost though as Aella, just as quickly as her father and brothers, storms out of the room.

**

The vile audacity to claim her in front of everyone. He’d never even mentioned any sort of feelings that would hint that Visemarys felt something more for her other than brotherly love. Aella would be a fool not to notice how Baelyx and Visemarys looked her way. She knew but she wanted to hear them say it to her directly, not be sneaky but abruptly bringing it up with the rest of the family. Baelyx wasn’t really mad on her behalf. He was mad because he hadn’t been the one to publicly claim her first. 

Rage boiled her from the inside and heats up her checks with the fires of all the Seven Hells. When she got ahold of them, Aella would throttle both brothers into the ground. Didn’t matter that they were stronger and older than her. She would find a way to bring them down to their knees and BEG for her mercy. If only they weren’t so consumed with their alpha male bullshit to even asked her who she favored more. Were she to be faster to leave the sitting room, maybe Aella could have followed them to wherever they went off to. This involved her after all. Who she chose as her husband was her decision. Her parents promised her that she could choose whoever she wants to take as a partner. They said they would support her. This was a discussion that required her presence as well. She’d smother the flames of her fury in order to put up her petition to remind Aegon that she was in charge of choosing.

First she went to the chambers of the king and queen. Empty.

Stalking through the halls of the Keep, Aella realized that they weren’t in the main dwellings of the family. Aegon must have took them where he carries out all important duties. The throne room that housed the infamous iron throne, built by her father the conqueror. He was always wary when the young ones were too close to it. The swords were still sharp like they were freshly pulled from their owner’s hands. Swords of his fallen enemies. It wasn’t uncommon to receive small cuts from it. Aegon was never maimed when he sat on the throne since it was made for him. Not even his own chair would harm him. 

This forces her to leave the Keep and cross through the outer yard to get to the throne room which also housed a granary and a kitchen. Each step she took, Aella let out another curse toward her brothers. She’d give them the tongue lashing of the century. It will be ringing in their ears even as they lay on their deathbed. The never ending presence of soldiers milling about didn’t garner a second glance at them though even they noticed her wrath filled strut. Their princess rarely grew as impassioned as she was in that moment. Whatever argument was had in the Keep was enough to stoke her fire. 

The soldiers standing at the front bow at her presence and let her easily pass through. Aegon had been in the middle of saying something until the clacking of her heels hit against the ground. Visemarys smiles as if nothing of interest was going on while Baelyx’s seething lightened up. She walks straight up to Visemarys and shoves him with a house. 

“What kind of power trip are you on?” Teeth grit down hard as she goes to push him again despite her father calling her name.

Her anger toward Vis and not Baelyx as his glare turning into a self-righteous sneer. “See! I was only speaking up in Aella’s interest.”

Wrong thing to say.

She whips around and smacks Baelyx across the face. “You’re no better! You caused a scene.”

“Aella.” That stern command has Aella balling her hands into fists but obeys to face her father. She knew when to pick her fights and she would not win a fight with her father no matter how much Aegon loved his daughter. When he used that tone with her there was little choice but for her to simmer down. But her rage was still heavy in her mouth. She couldn’t even look at either brother who are positioned on either side of her. Baelyx, though his cheek was turning red, he sadly glances at his sister before pressing his lips firmly together. 

Aegon sighed, lines running across his face in the light of the throne room. A blessing he thought his children were. They behaved with the common childish mischief that arose with many kids in proximity. Never really caused him any real problems. But this was very much a problem that Aegon dreaded addressing. 

“Is it true you didn’t even speak this over with Aella, Visemarys?” He knows the answer. 

Visemarys being the eldest tend to let that go to his head. Crown Prince of Westeros and Heir to the Iron Throne, he thought whatever he said would be law. At least he has the common sense to shift his eyes away from Aegon with shame. “Yes, your grace. I figure it was inevitable though. Who better for me to take as wife and queen?”

His sister scoffs in disgust but keeps quiet under Aegon’s intimidating glare. 

“You do not have immediate claim of Aella just because you are first born.” Aegon sternly informs his son. In response his heir flinches. He’d been hoping his father would be on his side. Really, who would Aegon rather Aella marry? Visemarys would make her a queen. “She was promised she could choose her own husband. You’d be wise to respect that.” 

Newfound admiration blossoms for her father. She hadn’t expected him to take her side in all of this. But she realized she would not be exempt from being scolded as well. 

“Baelyx may have deserved your words but he didn’t deserve your abuse.” Aegon gazes from one pair of lilac eyes to another. Their father cast quite the shadow. “All of you are to go to your rooms for the rest of the night. Your dinner will be brought to you. You’re to reflect on how your actions may have harmed the other. Put yourself into their body and empathize. We’re family first and foremost. The house of the dragon cannot survive if we’re squabbling amongst one another.” He appeared to catch his own words. Momentarily he hangs back to gather his thoughts. “Tomorrow morning report straight to the throne room. No breakfast.” 

They bow to their illustrious father. His final words were law and even his offspring must bend the knee to their sovereign. 

Guards were sent along with them to make sure the trio went to their respective rooms.

In her room, Aella seeks out a distraction in the form of embroidery, to darts, hells she even tried to practice the lute but even boredom couldn’t help her enjoy that monstrous instrument that her teachers insist her learn to play. By the second hour, Aella was near ready to smash her lute into a thousand pieces against her bedpost. Were it not for the playful knock at her door, she may have gone through with her destructive impulse. A quizzically arched brow, Aella stares at the door. 

“Who is it?” She called out.

“Jaesa (Goddess).” That fine serpent’s voice has her heart fluttering.

“Maegor. Unfortunately I have been banished to my room for the night.” She chuckled and tents her fingers on the door. “I don’t think father intended for me to have any visitors.”

His laugh is a low baritone that has Aella smiling fondly at the door. “Open the door, Jaesa.” 

She doesn’t bother to think about the consequences and pulls on the handle of her door. Maegor is by himself, and easily manages to squeeze his way through the slim opening she offered him. Four years didn’t change Maegor’s personality, but it certainly transformed his body into swelled muscles and a proud stance. 

Still furious with her brothers, Aella eyes him up and down with a coy grin that mirrored her half-brother’s. He read her mind easily, always had. He’s already lifting her up by her rear as she grabs for his face to kiss him. 

Only she could say who were husband would be. 

[gulnarsultan]

King Aegon (the conqueror) embraced you possessively.  You knew that even if you were not at all pleased with his attitude, you should not be silent.  You responded by kissing your husband.  You smiled as Aegon's hand rubbed your swollen stomach.  You and Aegon were on your way to the garden when you heard the laughter of your other children.  Aenys was on the sidelines reading, and Maegor and Gaemon were practicing swordsmanship.  Your daughters Aelora, Shaena, Daella were watching their brother's sword practice.  Your daughters were running towards you when they saw you.  You kissed their foreheads and stroked their hair.  Towards evening, your labor pains began.  Queen Visenya was standing next to you helping you conceive your new baby.  You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally heard your baby's voice.  When your husband entered the room, his older sister had placed the newborn baby in her arms. Queen Visenya was with you to assist with the birth of your new baby. You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally heard your baby's voice. When your husband entered the room, his older sister was holding the newborn baby in her arms. Queen Visenya said the baby was a healthy girl. A minute later, your other children have arrived to meet their new siblings. Your husband named your newborn daughter Gael. It was exhausting dealing with two possessive dragons surrounding you, but it was well worth it for your kids.

[3d-wifey]

They've officially casted Aegon The Conqueror...beware of me...

[darkestspring]

Hello. Can you write for Dark Platonic Father!Aegon ( conqueror ) Targaryen x Daughter Reader With Daella

two words. double oof.

aegon is already incredibly possessive, obsessive and paranoid when it comes to Daella but towards their daughter, its almost worse.

he refuses to let you out of his sight, his paranoia will increase, he's convinced someone will hurt you, these delusions only increase as you grow.

aegon has always been incredibly possessive of daella, his sister-wife but it worsens when it comes to you, their beloved daughter. naturally, he wishes to give you the entire world and will reign hell when denied as such.

he'll convince that it's not isolation, you may go anywhere you wish as long as he is by your side. the thought of you getting hurt sends him into a rage and you're not allowed to go out on your own.

aegon would give his daughter the nickname of "hatchling" or "lovely princess" and there's nothing he would not do for you.

as a baby, you were mostly held by either him or daella, aegon insisted on keeping you, their beloved daughter, close so that he may be certain that no harm is to come of you.

even if you reached marriagable age, he'd never let you go. only he can protect you, as your father.

[fragileheartbeats]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

♡ ⭒ㅤ𓈒 dohaeriros daor ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ㅤ྄

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛 𝑀𝑒𝑛 𝑥 𝑆𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

♡ㅤ𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶ㅤ۫ㅤ𝅄ೀ

— 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐, 𝘔𝘢𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳, 𝘑𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘐, 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘉𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯, 𝘈𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘐𝘐, 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘐𝘐𝘐, 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐 <3

˚꒰🌼꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑹 ─ ♕ . ♡𝆬

She was his queen, his one true love, A goddess in his eyes, sent from above. Her smile, her voice, her every move, He adored her deeply, his heart did prove. With every breath, he praised her name, For she was more than just a mere dame. Her beauty, her radiance, her soul so pure, Made his heart skip a beat, that was for sure. He treated her like a precious gem, For she was the one who completed him. Her love was a divine blessing, A gift that his heart would always be confessing. His love for her was like a burning flame, That never seemed to flicker or be tamed. He would go to any lengths to see her smile, For her happiness was what made his life worthwhile. He built monuments in her honor, For she was his queen, his forever love and lover. He wrote her love letters, filled with poetic words, Expressing his love for her, like beautiful birds. The people of the kingdoms marveled in awe, As they witnessed the king's love for his queen, raw. They envied the love they shared, so pure and true, For it was a love that only a chosen few could pursue. He showered her with gifts, sparkling and rare, For her, he would conquer any fear or dare. For she was his everything, his heart did sing, He would give anything to see her happy and gleaming. In her presence, he felt like a mere mortal, For she was a goddess, in his eyes, immortal. He promised to love and cherish her till eternity, For she was his true love, his one and only divinity. As the years passed and their love grew, The king and his queen, together they drew. A love story so beautiful, so pure and divine, Their love was worshiped, like a heavenly shrine.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑼𝑬𝑳 ─ ⸸ . ♡𝆬

Her beauty was a sight to behold, Her grace and charm, worth more than gold, He would lavish her with jewels and gold, But little did she know, he was cruel and cold. He would sing to her under the moonlit sky, Her smile was his only source of joy, But beneath the façade of love and bliss, Lurked his twisted ways, something amiss. He would shower her with sweet words and praise, But behind closed doors, her happiness would erase, For he was jealous and possessive, His love for her was obsessive. He'd lock her up in a tower so high, The only view, the darkened sky, For he feared she'd leave him, his love undone, But in truth, he was the one who had her on the run. He'd force her to dance in a fiery ring, Her feet scorched, her body aching, But he couldn't see her pain and tears, For his love for her had blinded him for years. He'd send her away to faraway lands, In hopes that she'd forget his cruel demands, But no matter where she'd go, His love for her would never let her go. His love for her was a twisted fate, For her, he'd do anything, even if it meant hate, For she was his goddess, his everything, But in his love, there was no healing. As she lay dying in his arms, He realized the extent of his harm, For his love had become a dark obsession, A beautiful tragedy, without a confession. The king loved his sister, but at what cost? For his love, she paid the ultimate cost, A beautiful soul, destroyed by his hand, Leaving behind a broken king, in a cruel and lonely land.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑺𝑬 ─ ✦ . ♡𝆬

He worshiped her, with every breath he took, For she was his light, in a world that was so shook. Her every move, her every smile, Was like a blessing, that made his heart worthwhile. He showered her with love, like petals from a rose, And in her presence, his heart would carefully compose. Words of adoration, that flowed from his soul, For no other could fulfill, his lover's role. He adorned her with jewels, fit for a queen, And treasured her, like a prized possession unseen. Her happiness, was all he ever desired, And in return, his heart felt so inspired. He would lay at her feet, like a humble servant, And gaze at her beauty, with eyes so fervent. For in his eyes, she was more than a lover, She was a goddess, that he would forever discover. He proclaimed her, as the queen of his wisdom, Her radiance, would illuminate the skies. And in her presence, he would feel so alive. With every passing day, his love grew stronger, For in her arms, he knew he belonged there longer. He would sing her praises, like a sweet melody, For she was his world, his everything, his destiny. He would kneel before her, with palms open wide, And pledge his heart, to her for all of time. For she was his goddess, his queen, his love, Pure and true, like an angel from above. The kingdom knew, of their love so pure, For in their eyes, it was hard to ignore. They were like two flames, that burned as one, With a love so strong, it could never come undone. And in the end, when their time had passed, His love for her, would forever last. For she was his goddess, his queen, his heart, And nothing in this world could ever tear them apart.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 ─ 𖤐 . ♡𝆬

He stands tall, a prince of the wild, With heart ablaze and passion filed. Her beauty like a dazzling light, Enchants his soul, a love so right. He worships her with every breath, His love, a never-ending quest. Her grace and elegance, a sight to behold, In her arms, his heart gently unfolds. She is his goddess, his heart's desire, Every thought, every dream she does inspire. He bows before her, in devotion and awe, His love for her, an unbreakable law. Her smile, like sunshine, lights up his world, Her touch, like magic, makes his heart twirl. He'll climb mountains and swim the seas, Just to show her his love, his eternal loyalty. He seeks her approval, her every nod, For her love, he'll go above and beyond. He'll slay dragons and fight with might, Just to make her happy, to see her light. She is his queen, his everything, In her arms, he feels like a king. Her love, a precious gift he'll never take for granted, For she is his world, his everything, his enchanted. In her eyes, he sees the reflection of his soul, In her heart, he finds his truest role. He'll love her till the end of time, For she is his goddess, his love sublime. As the winds whisper his name in her ear, He'll hold her close and wipe away her every fear. With every breath, he'll worship her divine, His beautiful sister, forever his, till the end of time.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐁𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 ─ ✿ . ♡𝆬

He walks with grace and noble charm, A prince so fair, without a qualm, But in his heart, there's no denying, His love for her, forever flying. With every step, his heart beats faster, As he approaches his beautiful sister, For she is his shining star, The one he loves, both near and far. Her beauty pure and unmatched, Her kindness, something to be matched, To him, she's more than just a sister, She's a love, like no other. With gentle hands, he cups her face, And gazes upon her with such grace, Whispers sweet words, for her to hear, For she's the one he holds so dear. Through the good times and through the bad, His love for her will never be sad, For she's his light, his guiding force, The one who's always his main course. He showers her with gifts and praise, For he's grateful for her loving ways, He'll do whatever it takes, To make her smile, for her heart's sake. In her eyes, he sees his future, A love so pure, there's no need to nurture, For it blooms like a flower in spring, And forever it will continue to bring. She's his queen, his one true cure, Her touch, her kiss, fills him with bliss, And he knows he'll never miss. Together they dance in the moonlight, Their love shining so bright, And in his arms, she feels so safe, For she knows he'll never waif. He'll continue to worship her, For she's his goddess, his everything and more, And in her eyes, he sees his true self, For she's the one that completes his wealth.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑫 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 ─ ✞ . ♡𝆬

His mind was filled with twisted love, For his sister who came from above. She was his everything, his world, Her beauty, his heart had unfurled. But in her eyes, he saw only fear, As he whispered words in her ear. He built a temple in her name, Where he would worship, proclaim. His love for her, his queen divine, But little did she know, it was her prison to confine. The king would offer sacrifices, In hopes of pleasing her, his vices. For her, he would do anything, Even if it meant causing suffering. The people feared the mad king's reign, As they witnessed his love turn to pain. For he would torture and destroy, In the name of his beloved, oh how he would deploy. But she did not love him in return, For her, he would have to yearn. Still, he clung to his delusion, Of her being his ultimate fusion. The madness consumed him, bit by bit, As he worshipped her, his love not legit. But to him, she was his everything, And he would do anything, even the most gruesome offering. The kingdoms plagued by his twisted obsession, As he ruled with no sense or discretion. The people cried out, for mercy they plead, But the king's love for her was all he would heed. In the end, it was not love that destroyed, But the king's obsession, his heart void. For his lover was nothing but a fantasy, And in his madness, he had lost all sanity. And so, the mad king's reign came to an end, But his love for her would never bend. For even in death, he worshipped her still, His obsession, a twisted love that would never fulfill.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑮𝑮𝑨𝑹 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 ─ ＊ . ♡𝆬

He stood in awe, before her grace, His eyes adored her angelic face. Every night, he'd kneel at her feet, His heart filled with love, so deep and sweet. She was his light, in a world of darkness, Her touch, his only source of solace. Her voice, like music to his ears, In her presence, he had no fears. He worshipped her, like a deity, Lost in her beauty, he found his sanity. Her every move, a work of art, She held his heart, never to depart. But beneath her gentle facade, Lies a darkness, that he cannot dodge. She's a storm, brewing in disguise, And he's just a fragile, helpless prize. He tried to please her, in every way,But her love was fleeting, like a summer day. It burned bright, then faded away, Leaving him in darkness, to decay. He denied the truth, refusing to see, That she was not the goddess, he thought her to be. But a mortal, with flaws and scars, That he couldn't heal, no matter how hard. Yet still he worshipped, with all his might, For she was his drug, his source of light. Unable to break free, from her spell, He remained, in this hell. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to years, But his love for her, never disappeared. Even as she tore him apart, He couldn't help but worship her heart. In the end, he sacrificed it all, For a love that was destined to fall. But he couldn't bear to live, without her by his side, Even if it meant, he had to die. And so his story, came to an end, A tragic tale, of a love that couldn't mend. A man who worshipped, his lover till the end, But sadly, she was never meant to be his.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 ─ ♫ . ♡𝆬

Every morning, he'd wake up, With her face in his mind, He'd serenade her with love songs, And make her heart skip a beat, so divine. With every sunrise, his love grew stronger, He was her loyal knight, He'd shower her with flowers, And hold her hand, ever so tight. Her voice was like music to his ears, Her laughter, a symphony, He'd do anything to bring a smile to her face, For her happiness was his source of glee. He'd write her love letters, With every word, he'd pour his heart, She was his fairy tale come true, His one true love, they'd never part. He'd make her feel like a queen, In his kingdom of love, With her by his side, He had the strength to conquer the world above. Their love was a storybook romance, With each chapter better than the last, He was grateful for her presence in his life, For her, he'd go through the toughest task. So here's to the lovely prince, His love so pure and true, For his lover, he'd move mountains, Forever and always, they'll say 'I do.' And so, ends the tale of this prince, Whose love was like a never-ending dance, In their hearts, they'll hold each other tight, For their love was a beautiful, sweet and romantic delight.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑵𝑬-𝑬𝒀𝑬 ─ 𓆸 . ♡𝆬

His love knew no boundaries, no limits, no fear, His devotion to her, forever sincere. He was her protector, her shield, her knight, Obsessed with her safety, day and night. For she was his world, his very reason to live, His love for her, he would never forgive. In his eyes, she was the brightest star, Whose light outshone the sun from afar. Her every move, her every smile, Sent his heart racing, mile by mile. He was her shadow, her ever-present guard, A brother and his sister, forever entwined and scarred. But behind the beauty, lurked a darkness within, For his love for her, was an obsession, a sin. He would do anything to keep her by his side, Even if it meant controlling her, with every stride. She was his possession, his prized and cherished treasure, His love, a beautiful facade, with a sinister measure. His obsession consumed him, bit by bit, His love turned darker, with each passing minute. He would lock her away, in a gilded cage, For no one else to see, no one else to engage. She was his and his alone, no one else could dare, To take her away, from his possessive stare. But she, the princess, did not see, The darkness that consumed her Protector, with glee. Blinded by his love, she saw only his light, Not realizing, it would consume her, with all its might. She lived in a fantasy, a beautiful lie, Never once questioning, the darkness that lurked by. But as time passed by, he began to see, The error of his ways, his love's true identity. The sister he worshiped, had withered away, A mere reflection, of who she once was, in her heyday. His obsession had destroyed, the very love he craved, His beautiful love, now a hollow grave. His heart shattered, into a million pieces, As he saw the wreckage, of his love's diseases. His obsession had blinded him, from seeing the truth, His love had turned dark, no longer in youth. Regret and guilt flooded his troubled mind, His love's destruction, an eternal bind. His sister, now free from her gilded cage, Had lost her beauty, her light, her rage. For his obsession, had left her scarred, A mere shadow of herself, a love forever marred. She mourned the loss of what could have been, If only, the his obsession, had not consumed him within.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑼𝑺𝑼𝑹𝑷𝑬𝑹 ─ ☁︎ . ♡𝆬

She danced within his twisted mind, A goddess in his eyes and heart. Her touch, her presence, so divine, He worshipped her with every part. Her beauty was unmatched, they say, But her heart was cold and ruthless. He loved her in every way, But she remained cruel and heartless. His kingdom flourished at her feet, As she basked in all his glory. But her love was a cruel deceit, A never-ending tragic story. He built her temples, golden shrines, Where he laid his offerings bare. For her, he committed crimes, As his love became his despair. She reveled in his adoration, A puppet master pulling strings. But his love was her damnation, As she fed on his suffering. The people whispered, feared and cried, For their king had turned blind and weak. But he saw her, a goddess in disguise, Even as she made him suffer and weep. His heart shattered with every sigh, But he remained devoted to her. For she was his all, his reason to die, A sacrifice he gladly offered. And as his kingdom crumbled down, In her soft embrace, he lay. For her cruel love, he'd forsake his crown, And in her arms, he'd waste away. The king worshipped his lover, As a goddess, cruel and dark. His heart forever enslaved, forever, In her mercy, he'd left his mark.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned. 

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons. 

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence. 

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them. 

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight. 

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached. 

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat. 

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’ 

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far. 

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you. 

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief. 

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos. 

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. 

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you. 

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’ 

—

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[theghooligan]

aemond: my uncle is a challenge i welcome, if he dares face me—

daemon:

[aphroditelovesu]

Winter Solstice | Yan!HOTD

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Merry Christmas, my dear readers! I wish you a great day and a prosperous New Year! I hope you enjoy this Christmas special with our yandere family from HOTD! Good reading, forgive me for any mistakes and once again, have a great holiday to you ❤️🎄.

❝warnings: yandere themes, mention of death and obsessive and possessive behavior.

❝🐉word count: 1,941.

A long, long time ago, when the Earth was young and the days were short, people looked up to the sky with wonder and awe. They watched the Sun rise and fall over the horizon, its heat bringing life to the earth and its dark nights bringing a deep sleep to the world.

In the ancient realm of the seasons, each cycle marked the eternal dance between light and dark. As winter approached, a whisper spread through nature. Leaves fell from the trees, animals sought shelter and the nights extended, enveloping the world in a blanket of darkness and cold.

It was the time of the Winter Solstice, a magical moment when the Earth seemed suspended between extremes. People gathered around campfires, telling stories of times gone by, sharing warmth and hope amid the impending darkness.

On the eve of the longest night of the year, eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the miracle. Slowly, the Sun began its journey towards the horizon, fighting the darkness with its golden light. The stars twinkled above, bearing witness to the celestial spectacle.

And then, in the most sublime moment, the Sun began to rise, rising majestically into the sky. The colors of dawn painted the landscape, and people celebrated the rebirth of the Sun, knowing that light and warmth would return to the world. It was a symbol of renewal, hope and the continuous cycle of life.

On the Winter Solstice, people came together to celebrate the courage of the light that faces the darkness, remembering that even in the darkest moments, there is always the promise of rebirth and the light that returns to warm the hearts and illuminate the souls ways.

It had always been your favorite time of year, you loved how the snow fell from the sky and painted everything white, the food, the exchange of gifts and most importantly, it was when your whole family was together. You appreciated more than anything the few moments of peace that your family spent during that date, all happy and together. Like a big, loving family.

Having them all together was what you loved most as you grew up. All the disputes, the fights seemed to disappear during this time of year. Your heart and mind were at peace.

The green of the forest and the fiery red of love and passion. Its fabric was as soft as a spring breeze, a harmonious blend of silk and cotton that moved like leaves dancing in the wind. The predominant green was reminiscent of treetops, its hue varying from a lush emerald green to softer nuances, like newborn buds. The waist was accentuated by a deep red belt, as if it were the blush of the petals of a passionate rose. The intense tone stood out, creating a magnificent contrast with the lush greenery, and a decorative bow added a touch of elegance.

Something beautiful and elegant, with both of your family colors. Of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. There was some small, discreet blue embroidery that symbolized the Velaryon, subtle but standing out in its own way.

You turned to your maid who was looking at you with affection, you smiled at her, ''What do you think, Diane?''

She smiled widely, ''You looked incredible, my princess/prince. A suitable choice for a dinner with your family.'' There was a hint of worry in her tone, but you just held her hands and squeezed them gently.

''Don't worry, Diane. Everything will be fine.''

She nodded, ''Yes... Do you want me to accompany you to where the banquet will be held?''

You politely denied, ''No, but thank you.''

A hint of disappointment flashed in her brown eyes, but she just smiled and after a simple bow, she left the room. You took a deep breath and looked at the ring that adorned your finger, a gift from your grandfather, Viserys. He was sick and you swore to yourself that you would do everything to make this dinner enjoyable for him. He deserved it.

Just as you expected, everything was impeccable and your family was already waiting for you. A majestic dining room, adorned with golden chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft light on long solid wood tables.

The walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, depicting scenes from Targaryen history and grand festivities. The polished stone floor gleamed in the light of the torches that adorned the walls, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

In the center of the room, a long table stretched out, covered in an immaculate linen tablecloth and decorated with wildflower arrangements and heraldry of noble families. Silver candelabras exuded a soft glow, while golden goblets glittered in the dancing light of the flames.

Music filled the atmosphere as skilled musicians played lutes, flutes and harps, entertaining guests with happy melodies and lively dances.

''(Y/N)!'' Your mother's excited voice called out to you and you smiled at Rhaenyra, who quickly hugged you, placing her head against the crook of your neck, ''You look great, sweetheart.''

''Thanks, mom. You look great too.'' And indeed, she did. Rhaenyra wore a dark red dress decorated with gold that fit her perfectly. She pulled back a little and smiled at you.

''(Y/N)! We're here.'' On one side of the table, your younger brothers sat. You looked at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey, who were smiling at you. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and went to sit next to your brothers. Or you tried, for that matter.

For you were quickly pulled to the side as Aegon grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, Aemond, and Helaena. You smiled at your aunt and uncles and greeted them.

''Sit with us.'' Aegon asked and pointed to an empty chair next to Helaena who was smiling sweetly at you. You looked nervously at your brothers, who were staring at Aegon with disdain.

Aemond frowned and placed a hand over your shoulder, ''Come, stay with us.'' His tone said there was no room for argument.

Luckily for you, the doors opened and revealed Viserys along with Alicent, both smiling when they saw you. You apologized to your aunt and uncles and quickly walked over to your grandparents, helping Viserys sit down.

''Ah, (Y/N)... You look great!'' Viserys praised you, as soon as he sat down. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek in thanks.

Alicent pulled you into a tight hug, ''My husband is right, you look great. This shade of green suits you very well.'' She murmured and walked away hesitantly, adjusting your clothes. You kissed your face.

''Thanks. You look amazing too.'' She smiled in response and held your hands, squeezing them gently.

After a few minutes of talking to your grandparents, you walked over to your father and uncle, who were sitting next to each other. Laenor smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. He only let go when Daemon cleared his throat, irritated.

Laenor rolled his eyes and let go of you, staring at Daemon with an iron gaze. Daemon returned the same look and you acted quickly before they fought.

''Happy Solstice to you both.'' You said, twiddling your fingers nervously. Daemon smiled and patted you on the shoulder twice, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back.

''Happy Solstice, my child.'' Laenor said after you and Daemon parted ways.

''Happy Solstice, (Y/N).'' Daemon said, looking at you softly. You thanked them and apologized as you left them, wanting to greet your other family members. You spotted Baela and Rhaena sitting near your brothers and quickly walked over to them.

''Finally. I thought you would never come and talk to us.'' Baela complained and got up from the chair and hugged you tightly, ''I missed you, cousin.''

You returned the hug tightly, smiling at her words, ''I missed you too, cousin.''

Rhaena cleared her throat and stood up, hugging you as you and Baela separated.

You smiled at the squeeze and said, ''I missed you too, Rhaena.''

Joffrey got out of his chair and jumped into your arms, laughing loudly when you caught him in a tight hug.

''You're getting too big for me to keep doing this.'' You laughed and rolled him over, placing him on the floor. Russing his dark hair, you smiled when he laughed. You hugged Luke, who seemed especially clingy today. Jace also hugged you tightly and wished you a Happy Solstice.

After talking for a while with your brothers and cousins, you went to greet your paternal grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were sitting next to Otto, oddly enough, and the three of them looked at you with affection.

''Grandmother.'' You kissed Rhaenys's cheek who kissed yours back.

''Grandpa.'' You hugged Corlys and he hugged you back and complimented the blue details on your outfit.

''Otto.'' You greeted your great-grandfather, who smiled warmly at you. He seemed relaxed and calm, more so than he normally was.

''Shall we have dinner in honor of this happy day?'' Viserys's loud voice sounded in the room and everyone focused on the King. There was a bit of tension about where you should sit, but you chose next to Viserys and Rhaenyra, who shook your hand under the table.

Servants brought silver trays loaded with delicious delicacies. Large roasts of meat browned on skewers, exuding a tantalizing aroma of exotic spices. Tables were adorned with fresh fruit, from crimson apples to juicy grapes, and freshly baked bread that looked like it had come straight from the oven.

Plenty of wine circulated among everyone and soon everyone was laughing and talking. Your heart felt lighter when you saw your entire family happy, getting along for the first time in a long time.

After the banquet, you all went to one of the rooms of the castle, where the gifts were. The exchange went well, you received gifts from everyone individually and you presented them with what you carefully chose. Ser Criston was present and you gave him a gift too, under the watchful eye of your family, a pure Valyrian steel sword. He smiled in thanks and said he would give you a gift later.

When it seemed like the exchange of gifts was over, Otto said, ''We have a special gift for you, (Y/N). From all of us.'' He gestured to your entire family, who looked on expectantly. You took the gift from his hand, a wooden box with gold details, which was well packaged.

As soon as you opened it, all the color in your face disappeared. It was a head, a human head. You felt like you were going to throw up when you recognized the head. Diane, your servant.

''W-What is this?!'' You groaned, the words stuck in your throat as you held the box, your legs shaking as terror invaded your body. Everyone seemed calm, even Viserys.

''This is our gift to you, my child.'' Rhaenyra said and approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, ''To remind you not to approach anyone.''

''They can't be trusted,'' Alicent began to say, ''Diane couldn't be trusted. Criston was the one who cut off her head and Rhaenyra, Helaena and I cradled her. The choice of the box was Daemon's.''

They looked at you expectantly, as if they hoped you really liked the gift. Your hands were shaking so much that the box fell to the floor, Diane's severed head falling to the floor.

A perfect ending to a loving Winter Solstice with your family, from their perspective.

[dragonbarbie]

𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.”  he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

 “see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

[amaea-jewels]

THE CONQUERORS | LEVERAGE

—— summary: In a world where soulmates exist. Your fate has been sealed to the dragons who burned down your home.

—— genre: Dark!au, soulmate au, yandere

—— warnings: Obsessive and possessive behaviour, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, some very light angst, smut

—— pairing: Aegon Targaryen I x female!reader, Visenya Targaryen x female!reader, Rhaenys Targaryen x female!reader

—— word count: 5k

*no beta we die like bruce wayne's parents * first-time writing, english is not my first language

Never before had you experienced such overwhelming terror. You were a collected person by nature, content with allowing chaos to unfold for others, more so even when you had a hand in creating the chaos. Yet, tonight, it appeared that the karma of all of those nights of "fun" had finally caught up to you.

You found yourself being dragged by two strangers, being forcibly led toward the direction of one of the larger tents positioned at the farthest edge of the camp. You had known you were fucked from the moment your eyes had first locked with violet ones. You had felt the bond snap in place. Those violet eyes, the ones that had burned ypur home to ashes, now held you captive. Your life was now entwined with those haunting eyes that had taken your family from you.

You briefly entertained the idea of ending your life. The tent that they were leading you to was situated relatively close to a cliff. Though you were unsure whether the height would prove itself to be fatal, you felt more than ready to take the risk.

Choosing to end your life would be much more honourable than warming the bed of those who had caused your family's demise.

Newly formed soulbonds were meant to be consummated, and you were well aware that the longer time you spent with them, the more inevitable it would become. You knew that it was only a matter of time.

Ending your own life would save you from that fate.

The thought quickly leaves your mind, as you finally arrive at your destination. A sense of relief washes over you upon seeing that the tent is empty. However, that relief swiftly fades away as you are pulled toward the large bed situated in the room's centre. Your arms are tightly bound by sturdy metal chains, anchoring you to the master bed. You sigh, leaning your head against one of the pillows, attempting to find some rest.

The next several hours pass like a blur.

New guards take the place of the former standing right outside the tent. One usually remains on guard while the other leaves — you're not sure why. The idea of you actually being able to escape or cause any kind of damage is laughable at the very least. How would you be able to run whilst tied to a bed with metal chains?

You know it's late when one of them finally shows up — the darkness that fills the room is more than enough of an indication — it's the older one you realise after a few moments of watching her. Her hair was beautifully braided into intricate patterns. She was beautiful but there was an air of darkness that seemed to cling to her. She swiftly took off her ringmail, not even sparing you a glance, as she started undressing.

You did your best to avert your gaze, as she undressed herself fully. She turned toward you, recognising your presence for the first time since entering the tent.

She sauntered toward you. Her cold harsh unforgivable violet eyes digging into you. You're keenly aware of the fact that she's still not wearing anything, as you keep your gaze toward the side. Attempting to hide yourself from her.

She seizes hold of your jaw, redirecting your gaze toward her, eliminating any possibility of evading her. With a firm touch, she runs a finger across your face. The bond hummed at her actions.

"So you're the one."

Eyes still cold as she studies you carefully. Her hand which was previously caressing your cheek, start travelling down south. Stopping briefly at your throat, giving it a light squeeze before moving on, her hand stops when it reaches down to your waist.

She presses her naked body closer to you, keeping the eye contact as she dares you to do something. An amused smirk crept onto her face, at your obvious discomfort. The both of you stay there for a few minutes. Neither speaking, as she continues to study you with those violet eyes of hers.

Simultaneously, she seizes both of your hands, releasing her grip on your jaw and waist. She brings both your hands up to cup her breasts, as she brings herself closer to you. Both of your bodies pressed tightly up against one another. She slowly starts grinding herself against you. Disregarding you completely.

You start thrashing against her desperately attempting to move your hands away from her body. Suddenly, her grip on your hand loosens, and one of her hands swiftly flies up to encircle your throat, exerting firm pressure to keep you in place. You look up to study her facial expression, to see every ounce of amusement had disappeared, instead replaced by a serious demeanour. She leans in intimately, bringing her face close to your ear.

"You fight so viciously, just like your family. What a shame that couldn't save them from their fate," she speaks venomously, "but there's still some of them left, aren't there?"

She looks down at your horrified expression. A smile starting to bloom across her face.

"Your nephew, what was his name now? Was it Flammin? Fliden? No, it is Florian, is it not? Such a sweet young boy. Just passed his fifth naming day hasn't he?" she taunted a wicked smile still present on her lips, "it would be such a shame if his life was to be cut short now, wouldn't it?"

Tears welled up silently in your eyes as the weight of her words began to settle in. Florian, a young boy, was the sole family you had. His mother had succumbed to childbirth, and his father had fallen victim to those ruthless monsters. Florian had always been a frail and sickly boy. Without proper attention, he wouldn't survive even a fortnight. You had dedicated countless nights to his care since his birth, nurturing him in the absence of your older brother. Who always had matters of the court to attend to.

You felt guilt prickle away at your chest. You had completely forgotten about him. In your defense, you hadn't even been sure he survived. Most had suffered the cruel fate of being burned alive by dragon fire. But surely if Queen Visenya knew of his existence, that must've meant he was still alive?

You didn't answer. There was nothing to be said. She had won. And you could tell she knew that too from the smirk that was covering her face. Slowly her hand started slipping down your body again. Coming to a halt when she neared your breast. Keeping the eye contact, she started palming them. Realishing in seeing you melt. As the bond started to hum even stronger.

"Visenya" a female voice called from behind, halting Visenya’s movement, "playing your games again, aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you refer to," she snapped, keeping her back turned toward the woman, "I was simply familiarizing myself with our bonded."

The woman standing behind Visenya was beautiful. With silver hair that swayed openly down her back. It took you a moment, to recall her name; Rhaenys. The youngest of the three conquerors.

You continued to stare at her shamelessly. She was beautiful, both of them were. You absently noted, that her violet eyes were lighter than that of Visenya, there was also a sense of playfulness in them. You presumed that made sense, from the rumours you had heard, Rhaenys was supposed to be the more kindhearted and playful of the three.

Rhaenys' eyes flicked down briefly to meet yours. You were met with a comforting smile, as her eyes flickered up to meet her the older again.

Her lips parted, and unfamiliar words flew from her mouth, a language entirely unknown to your ears. Amidst the unfamiliar words, you faintly understood the mention of the name "Aegon."

Aegon. You're body subconsciously shivered at the mention of his name. It had been him who had discovered you. After the burning of your home, the survivors had been brought before their new king. They were to bow and hail him for his mercy. It was at that moment when your eyes had locked with his, you both knew.

Words had not been exchanged. He had simply walked through the crowd and grabbed a hold of your wrist where your mark was located. With one simple glance at the three-headed dragon symbol marked into your skin, there had been no point in denying it. King Aegon had motioned for his men to take you, as you stood frozen to your spot. He started barking orders for his men to follow, but you could barely make out any word he was saying. Head still reeling from the revelation.

You could feel the irritation radiating off of Visenya as she completely let go of you. The two continued to speak in a foreign language, as Visenya dressed herself once more. The two seemed to be on the verge of arguing before they both left, leaving you alone once again.

You lay sprawled across the bed, sleeping peacefully until the gentle touch of an unfamiliar hand caressing you, caused you to startle awake. Your eyes were still drowsy with sleep, and it took you a minute to fully recognise the person sitting in front of you.

"Aegon," you whispered in shock.

You had only just spoken the words when you jerked away harshly, your body moving on its own accord. You were unaware of when you had fallen asleep last night. You must've drifted off the sleep while lost in your own thoughts.

"Hello," he greeted warmly, edging closer up the bed toward you. You didn't answer. To dazed by sleep to fully comprehend what was going on.

"You must be cold," he tried again. You could feel he was attempting to start up a conversation and unlike Visenya, you had an irking feeling he would want you to respond.

"I'm fine," you responded meekly.

He hummed, seemingly not convinced. He inched himself nearer toward you, aligning his thigh with your reclined figure, the pressure causing the bond to hum. Encouraging you to move closer toward your bonded. You relented. Despite whatever desire that remained inside of you to give in to the bond, and allow for them to do whatever he wished to you. You could not forget the screams of your people as the dragon fire consumed them. How could you ever forget? When their screams would haunt you to the night you die.

“I apologize for Visenya’s behaviour. She can be very . . . . forward to say the least.”

You nodded, accepting his terrible apology and excuse, so you could move on to what was important.

You sat yourself straight up. “My nephew, is he well?”

“He is well,” Aegon confirmed. His finger returned to your face once more, as he started trailing your features. “I can assure you no harm shall come to your nephew, as long you as you remain with us.”

While his words were meant to be comforting. The underlying threat was not lost on you. The message was clear: attempt to run and your nephew would suffer the price for your foolishness. Instead of arguing with the man who held your nephew’s life in his hands, you opted to change the conversation.

“What time is it?”

His reply came instantly. “Late at night. By now most, if not all, have retired to their tents.” His finger continued trailing over your features, now reaching your lips. He applied firm pressure, eyes keen on your every expression, as he moved on to fiddling with your hair.

“Where are your wives then?” You had not meant for the words to escape as bitterly as they did. But at the very thought of Visenya and her complete disregard for your discomfort and family. You couldn’t help the root of anger that was settling over your heart at the mention of her.

“In their tents, resting for the night.” If he had heard the bitterness in your tone then he was certainly ignoring it. He kept a comforting smile on his lips. You furrowed your brows at his answer. Should the Queens not be on the side of the King? While it wasn’t fully uncommon for spouses to have separate rooms, you would’ve assumed bonded like them would remain together.

He seemed to be able to tell your confusion for a moment had not passed before he started explaining himself. “My sisters enjoy having their own separate beds. I fear they would argue far too much about the other stealing all their space. Though I suppose that may perhaps change with your arrival.”

Sisters. They were siblings. Right, you had completely forgotten. The Valyrian custom you had heard so much about. It had completely escaped your mind that all three conquerors were of the same blood and of the same father. Disgust crept its way through you at that revelation.

“Should you not be sleeping?” You quickly said after realising that you had spent far too much time pondering about the strange Valyrian custom. “I much rather spend my time with you,” he replied smoothly. Eyes flickering up to meet yours again.

“And how fun that must be, staring at me sleeping.” You bit back, before realising you had spoken back to the King. “It is indeed,” he replied back rather amused, “especially with my name rolling off your mouth whilst you slept.”

Heat begin to prickle at your skin at his words. Surely you did not?

“What were you dreaming of?” He asks.

You're aware that he’s only asking because he already knows the answer. And despite you not remembering the dream, you're also keenly aware of the sheet of sweat that covers you and the way your undergarments seem to cling to you. You internally curse yourself. You recognise it to be a symptom of not having the bond consummated immediately after your initial meeting. The heightened sense of arousal, the sexual dreams and the need to be in one another’s presence. Direct symptoms of the bond. You remember your mother’s stories of bonded ones meeting for the first time. They usually consummate the bond at the exact moment they meet, the frenzy of the bond simply too strong to resist.

“I don’t remember.” Only a partial lie, you truly did not remember, however, you had an irking suspicion toward what that dream contained, as did he.

He laughs a quiet yet dangerous sound that strokes a fire inside of you. “Perhaps then, I could help you remember. It was after all me you were dreaming of.”

The meaning of his words caused your body to grow fully warm. “You’re flattering yourself far too much,” you lamely attempt.

He moves closer toward you at those words. As you started slowly crawling back from him. A large smirk grew on his face. “I’m sure you like to think that, wouldn’t you.” He drew himself nearer, standing so close to you, you’re faces were merely an inch apart, “but I heard the way you called my name, so sweetly.”

“I did no such thing.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice drops down to a sensual tone, “I myself have to admit that I have found myself dreaming of you plenty of times throughout the day,” he closed his eyes momentarily. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He begins, keeping his eyes closed as if he was imagining it right now. “Or I see you laying on this bed, my sisters between your legs, worshipping you with their mouths, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart starts pounding fast. In fact, you’re not sure if your heart has ever gone this fast before. You feel warm. Too warm, despite the coldness of the night seeping into the room. You can feel your pulse in your throat and the dryness that has settled over your lips.

“So tell me once more, what was it that you were dreaming of?” He asks in a hushed voice.

“Nothing.” You reply quickly, averting your gaze toward the exit. The idea of running away from this entire situation seems suddenly very appealing.

“So you don’t wish for my help?”

This time you don’t reply too afraid of giving the answer that you truly wish to say. After a moment of pure silence. With you ignoring his longing eyes, he decides to change his approach.

“You must be feeling so desperate.”

You don’t respond too afraid to say anything anymore. He leans toward you. You can feel his breath in your ear. You can feel the ache between your legs growing stronger.

“We’re not meant to go this long without each other,” he whispers delicately against you, “you know that. It’s only been a couple of hours. Yet, your body is aching for me, just as I am for you.” He glides his tongue against your cheek. Fire spreads everywhere he touches you. “Poor Visenya could barely contain herself from want. I had to order her and Rhaenys to leave you alone or else I fear they both would’ve ravished you the moment you entered our camp. But I convinced them it would be best if I warmed you up to us first. That all of us at once, forcing your attention upon us. Whilst your mind was still reeling from loss would be far too much.”

Your breath comes out shaky as you struggle to contain your own wants. It would be so wrong to give in. They had murdered your family. They had even threatened the only one that remained. Briefly, you wondered how things could’ve been different if you had met under normal circumstances. Telling your mother how happy you were at finding your bonded, asking permission to court you properly once the frenzy of the bond had passed. How different it all could’ve been. Instead, it was them who had robbed you of all of that. Your mother was dead, and so was your father. There was no need for a courting period for there was no one alive for them to ask permission for your hand from.

“Give yourself to me.” Aegon’s voice is rough with wanting like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, let me ease that ache you feel. Give yourself to us, and in return, we shall give you whatever your heart desires.”

“My heart desires for my family to be alive, tell me can you make that happen.” You snap back tears brimming into your eyes at the mention of your deceased family. A full night had yet not even passed and here you were dishonouring them all by giving yourself to the man who had killed them.

Something shifted in Aegon’s eyes at those words. Violet eyes growing stern much like Visenya’s had. His hand grabbed at your jaw bringing your eyes up to meet his. The familiarity of the situation was not lost upon you. As you stared up into his beautiful violet eyes.

“What happened to your family was their own fault had they simply bent the knee as I had asked of them. There would be no need for the pointless slaughter of your people,” his grip at your jaw tightened, “but I have been merciful have I not? I could’ve burned the survivors in dragon fire as well, but I did not. I could’ve killed your pathetic nephew who continuously begs my guards to be brought into your presence. But I do not. You know why?” He rubs the tears falling from you eyes away, “for I am a merciful King, but that does not mean, I shall remain one.”

“What is merciful of you burning my family alive? It was our King who made the decision to not bend his knee, not us!” You shouted back, jerking yourself free from his hold. "You say it’s mercy letting us live. Very well, then go ahead kill me. Give me the solace of being united with my family once more.”

He laughs, coldly at your little display of anger. “Very well, but remember that you asked for this.”

He backs away from the bed, grabbing his sword on his way out. “Wait! What’re you doing.” You desperately yell after him, “I told you to kill me, to punish me! Wait!”

You struggle against the metal chains keeping you tied to the bed. Your screams for Aegon to stop echoing through the night. Soon those screams are replaced by those of others. Dread fills your being as you realise what was happening.

Tears stream down your face your throat becomes sore from your sobbing. Eventually, you fell asleep, tears still streaming down your face.

Upon awakening, a throbbing headache greeted you—a consequence of having cried yourself to sleep. The light streaming into the tent suggested that it was now daytime. You glanced down at the blanket enveloping your shivering form. Vaguely, you remembered someone entering the tent late at night after you had drifted off. Whether it was Aegon or another you weren't sure. Exhaustion had overwhelmed you to the point where the mere thought of opening your eyes and checking was too much.

After throwing the blanket on you, the person joined you in bed. But remained at a comfortable distance so as not to disturb you. As you stirred around, you became aware that the person had left.

You sighed, running a hand through your face. The metal chains still digging painfully into your wrists.

The events of the previous night played back in your mind on repeat. A sense of dread fills you. What would the consequences be if you continued to reject their advances? How far would they go to keep you in line? How many would die as a consequence of their anger? Would they kill you if you continued to deny them?

You remained sprawled on the bed for several hours, unable to free yourself from the metal chains that bound you. Eventually, tiredness overcame you, and you slipped back into slumber. When you stirred again, it was to the sensation of someone shaking you awake.

"You must be starving," the voice observed. You recognised the voice; Rhaenys.

Before you, she stood, as breathtakingly beautiful as you remembered her to be. It took a moment for her words to fully register, and then you nodded in agreement. The audible growl of your stomach served as a reminder of the prolonged time you had gone with the absence of food—it had been two full days. Rhaenys smiled, offering you a plate of food. Without a word, you accepted the plate and began to eat. Rhaenys remained silent, unabashedly observing you as you ate.

After finishing your meal, you silently set the plate on the side table. The room fell into a hush as the two of you sat in silence, you with your gaze fixed on the floor, and Rhaenys studying you intently. Suddenly, she rose and positioned herself directly behind you on the bed, your back pressed against her chest. A surge of fear gripped you—what was she planning? Would she force herself on you as Visenya had done, or would she threaten you much like Aegon had done?

Surprisingly, she did neither. Instead, she pulled a brush and began running it through your hair. You started relaxing under her gentle ministrations. Eventually, she transitioned into braiding your hair skillfully. Two large braids took shape, and she proceeded to pin them up into an elegant updo, her actions gentle and kind.

"You shouldn't have said those things to Aegon, you upset him."

Her words sent a sudden jolt through your body, erasing any trace of comfort that had briefly settled into you. Instantly, tension gripped your frame.

"Your continued denial of the bond shall only bring pain to us. Embrace it. Acknowledge your destined path. You belong to us now," the calmness Rhaenys exhibited while speaking, caused shivers to run down your spine, "should you attempt to escape with your little nephew, our forces will inevitably hunt you down and bring you back. Half of Westeros has fallen to our whim, the rest shall soon follow. Tell me, who shall risk their lives and those of their kin to shield you from us? Last night, you incurred only a speck of Aegon's wrath, forcing him to unveil but a fraction of our might. Imagine the repercussions should you provoke us once more."

With that final word, she left. Leaving you once more in a state of fear.

Days pass before someone attempts to visit you again. Each day, a new guard came to attend to you, delivering food and bringing you to a nearby lake to clean yourself.

As days pass you begin to fight your own instinct. Begging for you to be near your homicidal bonded. Each night you were haunted by dreams of them, each dream leaving you more frustrated than the last. The fact that you know that they have been visiting every night while you pretend to sleep doesn't help.

It is on the fifth day of this behaviour continuing that you finally snapped.

A gentle hand traced along your back as your consciousness began to return. Most of your nights since entering the camp had been spent sleeping, daydreaming or reading. The familiarity of the rough hand hinted at Aegon's presence, a revelation that didn't surprise you. Although all three had taken turns visiting you every night. Aegon was the one that usually ended up curled next to you sleeping at night.

Upon feeling you stir, he retracted his hand from your back. Instantly your own shot up to stop.

“Wait,” you all but begged, “don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?”

His voice was rough, just like you remembered it to be. He hadn’t spoken to you directly, not since that night. You had heard him bark orders at his men and seen him conversing with Orys Baratheon. But he had refused to speak to you ever since you had snapped at him.

“Touch me, please.”

The pure desperation in your voice wasn’t lost on you. And though you felt heat creeping up your skin at your confession, you couldn’t deny how badly you needed him. After all, Rhaenys had been right. You were only causing yourself misery by refusing yourself what you wanted. At your request, his hand rubbed down the side of your waist. Your breath becomes shaky as you turn to lie on your back to face him. Aegon was staring at you intensely.

You didn't know what to say to him. How to voice out the desire building in your chest. So you settle for calling out his name. Your voice is dripping with desire and desperation. Gazing into those violet eyes, you catch a glimpse of the fire so characteristic of the Targaryens just before his lips meet yours.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss shared between you two. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of their true desires for far too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. His hand grabs a hold of your hair and keeps you in place. The bond hums loudly in approval of your actions.

Aegons draws himself back slightly to look at your expression, his free hand moving to palm your breast over your nightgown. You moan at the feeling. His other hand lets go of your hair to slither down your body and press against your core.

“You’re drenched,” he mutters breathlessly, slowing down his movements as he starts to tease you, “I could make you cum from this alone.”

“Please” you beg, your hips bucking up to meet him.

“I should make you beg me for it after everything you put us through.” His eyes are dark as he speaks, his thumb pressing hard against your clit, making you moan. “Luckily, I am a generous King. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod wildly, as he inserts a finger into you, pleasure pulsating through you.

“You’ve been craving this, waiting for this very moment,” Aegon murmurs against your ear with a wicked smile. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper pathetically, your hips rocking wildly aganist him. “Say it,” he demands, pushing another finger into your dripping core.

“I need you to make me come, Aegon. Please, my King, I need you so badly.” You purposefully empathize with his title, knowing what button to press to make him give in.

His violet eyes darken even further as he pulls you towards the edge of the bed, getting down on his knees in front of you. He makes swift work of removing your clothes. Before his lips descend down on you. You moan loudly your hand moving to entangle yourself into his hair.

Aegon mumbles something against your clit that you can’t hear, before teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing it in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers moved to find that soft, aching spot inside of you and he purposefully pressed against it in slow, firm thrusts that made you tremble.

“Aegon, please” you moan, partly as encouragement for him to continue and partly because you want him so badly. You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release. You’re so close.

“Aegon, please,” you plea again, truly desperate now. “Please my king. Please.”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or if it’s just pure coincidence, but in that moment. Aegon shifts his rhythm, bringing you closer toward your peak and over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you hard. You have never felt anything like this before. You feel satisfied but also feel the ache growing stronger than ever before. He looks up at you a smile displayed on his beautiful, handsome face. He crawls up to you, pressing a deep kiss into your lips. He continues kissing you as he slides a hand down to your core again. Firm fingers pressing against you. “There you go, feels good doesn’t it?” He murmurs into your temple pressing a kiss against it, “I wanna see your expression this time. You can come for me again. Can’t you my sweet girl?”

He speaks as if it’s a question but from the way he’s pressing his finger into you. You know, you have no choice in the matter.

“Oh, dear, Lords,” you gasp loudly.

You’re doing so well for me,” he kisses you again. He lowers his voice to a sensual whisper, leaning in closer to your ear. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over me like the sweet girl you are.” It’s the combination of his words, his voice and his perfect hands that bring you over the edge.

“Yes, that’s it,” Aegon mutters encouraging, as he watches you. “You are so beautiful when you come undone like that.” He kisses you slowly. It’s only then you realise that he's still fully clothed while you lay naked underneath him.

You don't have time to complain. All of a sudden, he grabs hold of your body, manhandling you around so you now lay on your stomach. He pushes your head into the bed harder as he scoops a hand underneath your hips, lifting your bare ass into the air, exposing your drenched pussy to the cold air.

He lands a hard smack on your ass.

"If you hadn't been so stubborn, this could have happened much earlier" Aegon spoke in a hushed voice, hands trailing down your waist. You said nothing. Entirely too breathless to defend yourself. Aegon placed himself at your entrance and allowed you no time to adjust to the massive length of his before he slammed into you. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. You gasped as he picked up his pace, fucking you with wild and reckless abandon.

"Come on, my sweet," he taunted, "tell me how much you hate me now."

Aegon slammed into you so deep it really felt like he might kill you after all. You felt yourself pulse around his cock, your pussy trying to somehow pull him in deeper.

"So. Fucking. Tight," he said through gritted teeth. His hands gripping your hips with such force you knew they would bruise. Part of you beamed internally at the idea of being marked up by your bonded. Heat exploded inside of you. Your eyes were momentarily blinded as you felt yourself reach your climax.

"Please, fill me, Aegon," you begged, head still shoved into the bed. Aegon groaned at your words, holding your hips tightly as he pulled you back up against him to fuck him. He picked up his speed, thrusts becoming messy and sloppy as he chased his own peak.

He thrusted in roughly a few more times before he finally stilled, pushing inside of you as far as he could. He stayed inside of you for a few moments more before slowly pulling out, watching his cum spill out of your abused cunt. The loss of him being inside of you, causes you to whimper, feeling empty.

"That was truly a spectacular show," Visenya's voice sounded. Turning to your right, you beheld the sight of both the sisters standing there, a hint of amusement evident in their expressions. "I certainly hope you're not too tired for another round," Rhaenys quipped. The two women sauntered closer toward the bed where the two of you were situated. Crawling over the duvet toward you.

"Not that it truly matters if you are," Visenya smirked. Planting her mouth at your shoulder blade, she started sucking. Rhaenys copying her movement on your other one. You hummed in delight, completely unaware of the massacre that was befalling your people outside the tent, as your bonded made sure to keep your undivided attention on them.

They couldn't afford the possibility of your focus being split between them and the well-being of your people, especially when you were destined to belong to them. And with the bond now finally complete, you would never be able to leave. The strategy of isolating you without their presence played out flawlessly, leveraging the bond into compelling you to yield.

[missglaskin]

Yan!Targaryen Men (Jacaerys, Maegor, Aemond, Aegon I, Baelon, Daemon, Viserys III, Aegon II, Rhaegar) with sister!Darling 

Note-I hope this doesn’t get a rating like my other posts. Also, I don’t specify if the reader is adopted or not to be exclusive  

There’s no greater love than one found at home 

Tags: Pure filthy smut, unhealthy/toxic relationship, obsession/possessiveness, a kinda bloodplay, breeding kink/fantasy, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), pussy slapping/spanking, marks and cuts (sexual), co-dependency, skincare (don’t ask) 

Jacaerys 

Any lady would wish to have a brother like yours. So sweet and gentle. A brother who listens to every word of his sister. Always dancing with her at feasts. Giving her flowers just to make her smile. They find his protectiveness over you to be adorable. Not knowing it’s from a fear of losing you to another man. 

Naturally, like everyone else, you were an admirer of many handsome bachelors. Whether it was a lord, a knight, or some blacksmith. Yet each turned you down. They made sure to be careful with their words, as you were a princess. And each time you ran into your brother’s arms in tears. Utterly unaware, he whispered threats into their ears.  

The two of you shared a bed. Something your mother disapproved of. But no matter her attempts, the servants report finding you wrapped in each other’s arms. There was a reassurance it was merely innocent and harmless. The act under the sheets begs to differ from the way your brother is humping you from behind. 

There was a sense of shame in Jace’s actions. But who else deserves to take your maidenhood other than him. Though he waited and waited. Still, the two of you found a way. Light shared and moans shared between-his hardened cock covered by loose fabric as you grind your pussy against it. 

There’s also you two tangled in the sheets, messaging your tongue with his own. You clench tightly around his fingers that’s buried deep inside your core, pumping you relentlessly. All while his hips thrust into the grip you have on his cock. Groaning louder each time you squeeze at the head. 

When it finally happens. Jace has become addicted to the warmth of your pussy. He was already addicted to the feeling of his fingers playing with your dripping folds. Already addicted to his tongue lapping up your pussy, drinking in your juice. This was nothing like he ever experienced, and if Jace could, he’ll die with his cock buried deep inside of you. 

Learning Valryian was necessary. It is your mother’s tongue. The lesson, however, becomes difficult when Jace presses the head of his length against your entrance, slowly filling you up as you sit down on him. You and Jace try to recite what you know. Resisting the urge to roll his hips and your squirming doesn’t help, either. It all ends the same each time with Jace having enough, gripping your waist and moving your hips. 

Jace sometimes dreams of seeing your belly swollen with his child. He can't imagine being with anyone else but you. He wants the perfect life, to be an adoring husband to a devoted wife surrounded by children who resemble you more. It will all come due in time.

Maegor 

To you and everyone else, your brother let it be known of his desire. It is within his right to want you, to have you. What man would have a better claim for his sweet sister than her own brother. Even more who dares to refuse him, to refuse the dragon. 

Your brother wanted to be the first of your everything. Your first love. Your first kiss. Your first fuck. From your mind, to your body, to your heart, to your soul. They were all his. Every inch of you belongs to him. He will give a fate worse than death to a man who dared to steal his ‘right’. 

Maegor breeds you at every chance he gets. Filling your little cunt with his massive cock. Tears coat your eyes at how he pounds into you so mercilessly. Broken moans slip from your bruised lips, feeling his hot cum flood your insides. Numbness taking over your senses. 

There’s no rest even in your sleep. Waking up to Maegor buried deep inside you. It happens so often that you merely lay there and have him do all the work. His cock squelching into your heat, moaning his name as the two of you inch closer and closer to an orgasm. Maegor loves the sight of your pussy as cum oozes out of it, pushing the tip right in front of your  entrance to keep it all in-not wanting to waste a drop of his seed. 

As much as he hates wasting his seed, he also loves the view of you on his knees, eagerly taking him. A hand on your head guiding you up and down on his cock. His sheer size makes you choke and gag every time. When it’s done as a form of punishment, you’re pulled until your nose nudges against his balls. 

Obedience is expected from you. Not only is he older than you, he’s your king. Disobeying him will result in your ass feeling sore, a burning sensation from his assault. You’re to count each one, otherwise, he’ll start all over again. Your pussy is also swollen and drenched from his hand, slapping it when you move too much. 

After making such a mess of you, he has you join him in the bath. The water so warm, it almost stings your skin. Sitting in Maegor's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as his hand traces your back. It’s an intimate moment filled with silence. Peace. 

His wives mean nothing compared to you, and they were reminded of this every day. Any night he spends with one of them would be returned tenfold. A whisper in his ear is all it takes to get rid of each of them. A sweet sister is all he needs to love him, to satisfy him, to bear him heirs.

Aemond

You and Aemond standing side to side may have looked nowhere alike, but the two of you were attached to the hip as though you were twins. Even when each had different duties. Your brother being taught to wield a sword while you were taught to courtesy and dance. 

Your brother believed the two of you were meant to wed one day. It was tradition with Aegon wed to Helaena, so it’s only fair for him to wed you as well. The two of you shared a bond like no other and who else understands, loves, and cares for his sweet sister as he does. 

Aemond wants the best for you. It’s his duty as your brother. Demanding that you read, that you study philosophy and history. That you learn the language of your ancestors. Though you’re not to blame when finding those lessons to be boring, your brother is furious when you refuse to pay attention. Your stomach on his lap, ass sore from the strikes of his hand. It’s for your own good, he tells you. 

When it comes to reciting what you know, your brother makes you lay over his lap. His hand on your cunt. Fingers caressing your folds when you get the answers right. Halting his movements when you forget or get the answers wrong. But in the end, he’ll give in to your begging, helping you reach your release.��

Aemond likes to believe he’s giving. Cheeks messy with slick as his tongue laps up against your sensitive pussy from the many times you reached your release. Reaching it once more when his fingers thrust in and out of you all while his mouth sucks on your clit. But it’s never enough for Aemond, continuing to sloppily feast on your cunt until you can no longer take it. 

Your brother wasn’t only obsessed with the taste of your tongue, but the feeling of it wrapped around his cock. There should be shame; Taking your maidenhood, but it’ll be bound to happen so why not indulge himself now. Besides, you tempted him like a seductress, latching onto him, yearning for the heat of his cock, and who is he to deny you. 

There’s no greater feeling than this. The feeling of his cock sinking into you, filling you up so well, and stretching you with every thrust. Pushing his hips as deep as he can, wanting to drown himself in your cunt. Groaning when the blunt head of his cock grazes your cervix. Your nails dig into his back, and Aemond hisses when feeling lines of blood-forming. It arouses him even further. 

Aemond was a man whose actions were said better than his words. But there are times where confessions are made. Bodies drenched in sweat, calming itself from the violet highs. And in the dawn of night, you hear the whispers, so faint. And you realize just how deep the love Aemond has for you. The madness in his eye showing its blazing intensity.

Aegon I

Your brother Aegon, as he did with Visenya, married you out of duty. His true love was Rhaenys. A sad truth you must accept. As the youngest sister, you looked up to your big brother, always following him around, eager to please him, to make him happy. 

Aegon finds himself indulging in your eagerness. Allowing you to scrub his body in the bath or undress him late at night. His most preferred is when you’re helping him shave his beard. Seated on his lap with his hands on your waist, and Aegon can’t help but watch you be so focused and take great care to be careful. 

Unlike your sisters, Aegon didn’t want you to fight. Even preferred it if you didn’t claim a dragon. Insisting your purpose was to wait for him when it was time to visit your chambers. And when he did, Aegon smelled like dragon and his eyes widened in lust at the sheer nightgown wore. In mere seconds, it was ripped to shreds. 

His reason for visiting you late at night is before you was Visenya, and before Visenya was Rhaenys. The night is spent with you bent over, his hips ramming into yours. Hands gripping the sheets as his cock pumped in and out of your tight hole. And when it was all set and done, the two of you reaching your high. He always left, and you knew deep inside, it was right back to Rhaenys. 

But soon Visenya notices Aegon’s presence lessens and more shocking when Rhaenys does. The chambers of your room are filled with everything your heart desires, from the rarest of books to every instrument and painted color imagined. The dresses becoming more and more lavished, all in the house of colors. What catches most attention is the valyrian steel necklace placed around your neck. 

His jealousy was one of fire. Easily ignited and hard to put out. Pushed to the wall with Aegon lifting your dress up. A dark look on his face as he lines his cock to your entrance. Making you adjust to his size and brutal pace. He demands to not hold in your moans, to let every single person in the castle know who you belong to. The poor bastard that caused it is currently residing in Balerion's stomach. 

In the throne room, where the halls are empty. Safe for the King and his sister-wife who’s on top of him, bouncing on his cock. Your hips gripped by Aegon, moving you up and down as he drives himself deeper into your aching cunt. Moans, groans, and skin slapping echo through the great halls. Some cuts occur, a few stings, but the pleasure helps in numbing them. 

A true testament to your brother’s love was when the two of you were standing in a mirror. Both bare as you gazed at your reflection. Stunned when Aegon places the crown, the king’s crown on your head. It’s all yours, the kingdom, the throne, him; they all belong to you. His hand reaches down to your belly. It also belongs to them. What if it’s a girl, you ask him. It’s still theirs, he claims.

Baelon

Such a sweet and kind princess you were. Loved by the court and the common people alike. Your parent’s pride and joy, a sentiment your brother shared. Baelon’s fondness for his sister was well-known around the realm. If one needs to find Baelon, they must first find you, as your brother rarely left your side. 

It doesn’t arouse any suspicions when your brother shoos any of your suitors away. Nor when his hands are on your lower back as you dance. Not when he kisses your cheeks at your name day. Neither when he rubs his thumb on your lower lip to wipe the frosting or cream. They all believe it’s just Baelon looking after his innocent and sweet sister. 

Then again, there are no eyes under the table where your brother’s hand is buried between your legs. Your thighs squeeze the hand to restrict its movements, but all it does is make him dig his fingers even deeper into your core. Baelon has the nerve to have those same fingers in his mouth afterward, tasting your release all while his eyes are on yours. 

With Baelon, most of your mornings are awakened by a sensation between your legs and a knot in your stomach. Opening your eyes to see your brother sucking the clit into his mouth. Pulling away with your arousal coating his lips as he teasingly greets you with a ‘good morning’. 

Any time you are soaking yourself in warm water. It’s almost as if your brother has a sixth sense. Coincidently being there, and he doesn’t even bother asking. Sinking in the warm water and immediately pulling you onto his lap. And somehow it always ends with most of the water spilling out on the floor. You eagerly moving up and down on your brother’s length. 

The dragon’s blood courses through Baelon’s veins and you’re reminded by his fire when he’s green with envy. Making such a mess out of you as he slams his cock into your hole, hand making contact with your ass cheek. Overstimulating you as he pumps a load after another. In your broken moans and whines, your brother makes you repeat that you belong to him over and over. 

Sometimes you wonder if Baelon wants others to find you in these compromising positions. With how often he drags you out of feasts and tourneys. When the two of you return, you’re forced to lean on him as your knees are wobbly and your whole body feels sore. Not to mention the mixture of our arousal sliding down your thighs. 

Baelon worships the ground you walk on. He might even worship you. You certainly taste like nectar on his tongue, a nectar created by the gods. You’re a perfect creature in his eyes. If Baelon could, he’ll gift you the whole  world in his hands. But if you were ever to leave, Baelon will want to burn it all down and himself so he can see a glimpse of your face again. 

Daemon

Viserys and Daemon loved their little sister. They took you wherever they went, their protectiveness and love clearly seen. But Viserys knew the bond between you and Daemon was nowhere near the one he had with either of you. It was evident even to the court.

You were his. A constant reminder that loomed over you. Everything belonged to him, everything. Your eyes, only for him to gaze at. Your lips, only for him to kiss. Your body, only for him to touch. Your heart, only for him to keep. Your cunt, only for him to breed. 

No other man deserves this. Deserves you. You were made for him. Carved and sculpted by the gods as a gift. Any man or woman who takes what is rightfully his. He’ll behead them and fuck you right next to their corpses, or better yet, he’ll make them watch. Letting it be the last thing they see before meeting their timely demise. 

Daemon takes joy in bullying you. Railing you from behind as your hands grip the window rails. Taunting you on how much of a slut you’re, taking his cock like your pussy was made for it. When he notices you biting your lips to hold your moans as those under will hear, he will spank your pussy every time you do so. He wants them to hear, to watch his sister being so drunk on his cock. 

At tourneys, you’re in the front, thighs clenched together at the sight of your brother’s prowess. It doesn’t matter whether he comes victorious. Daemon makes it a ritual to fuck you after each tourney. When victorious, every time he crowns you as the queen of love and beauty, later in his chambers, having you ride him to your liking. But when he loses, your ass is left sore and bruised as Daemon ruthlessly pounds into your dripping hole, fucking you full of his cum. 

In front of others, it is almost as if your brother’s arousal heightens. Teasing you under the table, his eyes never leaving your face just to watch how it twitches and how your lips are pressed in a thin line, doing everything to not break, not to fall apart from his fingers playing with your cunt. 

No matter how many tongues are silenced or people sent away, it doesn’t stop the rumors that circulate around the castle. The servants claim to catch the two of you in intimate positions. Found in some hall with you between your brother’s legs. A messenger once walked on him thrusting hard and deep into you, still counting his pace the rogue prince simply asks who sent for it. 

You can never deny your brother. For his violence, ruthlessness, and arrogance. There was the intense love and loyalty he had for you. One you will never find in another man. Daemon didn’t need to utter the three words. When he claims that he’ll burn cities to the ground, it’s not an empty promise. It was also his gentleness that was granted only to you. 

Viserys III

There were only three-you, Viserys, and Daenerys. They were all you had-your father, mother, and big brother all gone. Your memories were still there, the good and the bad. And most of all you remembered your brother before he became the man he was. The sweet and devoted Viserys, now cruel and mad. 

To Viserys you are his greatest strength as much as you are his greatest weakness. You are his to have, his to claim, his to fuck, his to hurt, his to love. A wine for him to drink and drink until he’s drunk under your sweet words and touches. Away from him in a day is a day to you, but to Viserys, it’s as if months have passed without your presence.

Your body belonged solely to him. The mere idea of anyone touching or gazing at it will send him into a frenzy of rage. It wasn’t the servants dressing you instead; it was your brother Viserys, styling you in the way he sees fit. Even bathing you, scrubbing your body as he joins you, expecting you to return the favor. 

You weren’t ignorant of your brother’s lust. Noticing where his hands trailed when he’d undress you. How he pulls you to sit on his lap. And your brother’s meanness was seen in how he shoves his fingers in your mouth, watching with great entertainment as you gag and drool all over his fingers. Scolding you for the noises you make and how you’re moving your hips against him. 

Viserys will marry you against Illyrio's advice. It was his destiny and duty. There’s no better suitor than his own sister and no better suitor for you than your own brother. Almost every day Viserys breeded you. It’s up to you and him to continue your bloodline, to bear him heirs when he claims the iron throne. 

Viserys’ jealousy was a dangerous one. Receiving his known saying, do not wake the dragon. Even your sister Daenerys wasn’t safe from his jealousy. Viserys already resented her for killing your mother. He tells her it’s only he who deserves to touch you, to hold you. It’s one of the reasons he was so eager to marry her off to Khal Drogo. As it means having you all to himself. 

Viserys is hardly slow and gentle in his thrusts, and how can he when feeling your insides wrap around his cock, clenching him so tightly. Feeling as if he’s losing his sanity at how drunk he’s on your pussy. With any other, he’d be embarrassed at how loud he is. But with you, his dear sweet sister, Viserys isn’t ashamed to cry out your name. Moaning how good you feel around him, demanding you call him your king. 

Tell me you love me. Was something you often heard from your brother. When he heard them call him ‘the beggar king’. After he caused a tantrum because you were too ‘nice’ to another person. When he lays his head on your chest every night. It almost is a recital, where you tell him you do love him, cradling his face and kissing him to ease any of his doubt.

Aegon II

As children, Aegon teased you as any brother would. But he was far more attached to you than Aemond, and certainly Helaena. Your mother thought the relationship was a harmless one. It’s until your brother became a man and you a lady, did your mother start to separate the both of you. 

It never worked. Aegon made you come to him at any time of need. Your finger is cut, no worries, he'll help you. Placing the said finger in his mouth, sucking on the blood as you watch him. At the time of your month, he’ll press kisses on your tummy to make you feel better, only for his lips to go lower and lower. 

Aegon’s intentions are never good. Such as when your brother sweetly offers you to taste your favorite pastry, only for him to dip his fingers in the said pastry. Having you lick and suck his fingers clean to which you start gagging when he shoves it further inside your mouth. 

His greatest weakness was the sight of your breasts. No matter how big or small they were, it’s a sight to behold. Only for his eyes to see. Capturing your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly leaving you with the feeling of soreness afterward. 

He’ll also fuck your tits. Fisting his cock as his tip nudges the stiff buds, smearing them with pre-cum. Or better yet rubbing them against the skin between your breasts. Spurting his release all over your chest and some splattering into your face, making him hard all over again as soon as your tongue makes contact with his cum.

With Aegon, there’s never a dull day. Always wanting to try something new. Forced to eat fruits such as strawberries and pineapples all day by your brother until your stomach aches. All because Aegon overheard they will make your pussy taste sweeter. 

During tourneys, you and Aegon are nowhere to be found. Using this opportunity to fuck you in the chambers of those who angered him. Some lord judgmentally looked at him. He will have your back laid on their table with him pounding into you, having all their works scattered on the floor. His brother made a comment on his drinking. He’ll plunge his cock into your dripping pussy on his bed. Leaving behind such a mess for Aemond to find. He’ll even sneak you into some of the lord’s carriages, so when they are to leave, they’ll feel something sticky and wet on their seats. 

When he became king, Aegon would have you ride him on the iron throne. Your stomach is still in knots and your legs are on fire when he and you reach your high. Your brother then makes you sit on the throne all while he’s on his knees, face surrounded by your thighs. Aegon may wear the crown of the conqueror, but it’s you who pulls the strings.

Rhaegar 

In the stories where you hear of tall handsome princes, Rhaegar was one to come to mind. All ladies seem to think so. Eagerly surrounding and pursuing him. With the customs of your house, the ladies saw you as a competition for their prince. They were not far off, as the handsome Rhaegar’s heart was yours to have. 

The gods have blessed your brother with such beauty. That is a work of art. Compared to his, yours seemed inadequate. A thought that you believed almost broke his heart. Morning to night, your brother’s delicate hands trailed your body, soft lips brushing against the skin. All done to prove you were worthy of such a title, a title of beauty, and one deserving of his affection. 

Though the violet eyes that watched you always held a fondness. A fondness reserved only for you. Watching you do the most mundane things, even eating. Chuckling when the food’s remains would adhere to your lips or trail down, to which your brother wipes it for you. A certain gleam in his eye. 

Every morning, it was your brother who took care of your hair. Whether it’s brushing, braiding, or dipping his fingers in the coconut oil to apply it to your hair. Rhaegar loved taking care of your skin as well. Having you completely bare while he spreads the lotion at every inch of the skin, trailing dangerously close to your lower region. 

There was some resistance against his temptations. Rhaegar will be a patient man for a time, yet his father refused to announce the union. It was seen in how he’d check for you at night, tucking you in and giving you a gentle kiss on the head. Each time, it took all his strength to deny your request for him to join you. But when his patience ran thin and his strength weakened, he slipped behind the covers. A habit came to be with the prince leaving your chambers every early morning. 

With the night sky being your only witness, Rhaegar lays between your legs. Drinking you in like a starved man. The chambers’ walls echo the sound of your moans, hand down pushing his face even further. Your brother groans when you gush against his tongue, arousal coating his cheek and chin. 

Clutching him to your body, your eyes find his. Rhaegar presses his forehead to yours as his cock sank into your pussy. He could worship the sight of your face contorting to pleasure, worship the sounds of your moans in his ear. Your back arches and legs weakly wrap around his waist as he pounds your cunt. Your brother whispers nothing but sweet praises.

Outside the covers of your sheets, your brother also worshiped you. His heart was in your hands. You can break it over and over, and it still beats for you. You are his and he’s yours till the end of days, how he dreams of reciting your wedding vows to one another. How he dreams of you giving him a prince. The three-headed-dragon, words your brother muttered more than once.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

What Could Have Been and What Will Be

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

A very long drabble based on the works of @maidragoste and her series The Queen and Her Husbands.

I love this series and I asked the account who gave me permission to write a one-shot for the reader and her husbands Aemond and Aegon. If you like this story, or if you don't, but still want to read the series, I encourage you all to go do so and to support the writer's content.

Summary: Aemond and Aegon spend the morning in bed with you, their wife who is six moons pregnant with Aegon's child; Aegon wakes to see Aemond relishing in your condition and a conversation ensues as a result.

Mostly fluff, though brief elusions to the Blood and Cheese event (spoilers from Fire and Blood and possibly HotD season 2), and maybe some implications of suggestive content along the way.

The sun was just starting to rise by the time Aemond was roused from deep sleep. The prince made a deep sigh and nuzzled his wife's neck, relishing in your warmth as you slept.

Aemond wrapped an arm around you, going stiff for a brief moment when he felt another hand wrapped you. He opened his eye to see his brother snuggled next to you on the other side, his face nuzzled against your breasts, a content smile on his face.

Admittedly this used to bother Aemond at first, when you insisted your share a bed with the men you love, being your husbands that is. Now the prince didn't mind as much; if anything, Aemond found the bed was actually colder without Aegon to cuddle with the both of you at nights. This was certainly something Aemond never imagined he would've ever enjoyed doing with his brother of all things.

Such feelings have only intensified when the maesters had made the official announcement to confirm that you were with child...Aegon's child.

Even though the maesters and Alicent had done their best to assure the nobles at court that Aegon was indeed the father, there was still speculation that you had been spending nights with Aemond; therefore, no one could know for certain if Aegon even was the father of your next child. In truth, you had been visiting Aemond at nights, via the secret tunnels in the Holdfast, when you were supposedly sharing a bed with Aegon, though the two of you were careful in making sure there was no intercourse when you and Aemond pleasured one another in bed.

Now that the pregnancy was confirmed- now that it was made certain you were carrying the king's child- there was no longer any need to sneak around, and you could share a bed with both of your husbands, paying no heed to how this would look to anyone else at court (Alicent had certainly thrown a fit at first, saying it was not decent, but she has made her peace and learned to accept that this is the way things are to be with her surviving children).

Neither brother was overly ecstatic about sleeping in the same bed at first, but if it made you happy, they were more than willing to at least tolerate each other and compromise for the sake of your happiness.

So here you were now, secure in your husbands warmth as you continued to sleep.

Aemond moved his own hand away from Aegon's finding he was pressing it against your bump that was six moons along with your pregnancy. Your second pregnancy ever...but your very first one with Aegon. In the early stages, Aemond had imagined he wasn't going to be this invested in your condition; in fact, the prince had expected on some level he was going to resent it all, the fact that his wife was with child again but he was not father.

However, as you had grown further along, as your baby bump became more visible, Aemond began to realize he relished in seeing you begin to glow with motherhood, enjoy it even. It was moments such as these were Aemond was most at peace, giving him hope for their future together, for the realm, and for their family and its continuing legacy. This was a symbol of hope for the remaining Targaryens and the realm that they could heal from the past war and move forward to a brighter future.

Being lost in thought, mindlessly rubbing your bump, Aemond didn't notice his brother begin to stir from sleep as well; he didn't see it coming when he felt Aegon's hand lightly brush over his. The prince looked to see his brother had his own hand placed against your bump as well. He looked up to see Aegon's eyes were open, albeit sleepily, indicating he was still waking up.

The king had a indecipherable smile on his face the moment he made eye contact with his brother.

"Oh, look at you, brother," Aegon spoke, voice still rugged from sleep, "I never would've expected this from you of all people." "Expect what?" Aemond frowned a bit. "This," Aegon gestures with his head in a lazy manner, "you being...soft. I never would have expected something like that from you."

Aemond felt his face heat up a little from this observation. Sure, the prince may come off as standoff-ish, especially where the court was concerned, but the prince did have his soft moments in private, especially where the women in his life were concerned, his mother, his late sister, his young niece, and now his wife.

Rather than get defensive about it, Aemond grumbled a little and hid his face against your neck, something Aegon lightly chuckled at.

Aegon continued to rub your bump in a loving manner, and it didn't go unnoticed in the way Aemond was repeated those actions, as both brothers kept an eye on their sleeping wife in case you were to wake; they hoped you would continue to get as much rest as you could with your present condition.

"...Does it bother you?" Aegon decides to ask, seemingly to no one, but Aemond knew he was the one that question was directed at. "Does what bother me?" "This?" Aegon gestures to your bump, "her being with child. That child...being mine? Does it bother you. You don't have to answer, I was just curious."

Aemond had to think about it for a moment. It wasn't as simple as answering yes or no. But Aemond remembered the agreement he and Aegon had made with you earlier in this relationship, that there wouldn't be any secrets from one another, that you and them would be transparent in your feelings to one another, to this relationship, and to speak up if one was feeling left out in this marriage.

"...it did bother me at first," Aemond admits, "but now, I find myself actually liking it." "Oh?" "I...I didn't get to do this before," Aemond continues, surprised he could have confess something so vulnerable to his brother, "when (y/n) was pregnant with Aemon and Baelon. I wasn't there for her during the war, during....my time in Harrenhal. I didn't get to see her grow with our sons, I didn't get to feel the babes kick in her belly I...I missed out all these little moments with the twins. Now that she is with child again, I feel as if I have been given a second chance, to be with her this time around."

Aemond waited for Aegon to say something, though he wasn't sure what to expect. In the past, he would have expected his brother to say something crude or mock him in some way. Now, he wasn't so sure how Aegon was going to respond to something so emotionally raw.

"If it makes you feel better, I saw (y/n) being pregnant with your sons as my second chance," Aegon admitted, which took Aemond by surprise. "What do you mean?" "...I wasn't there for Helaena when she was pregnant with our children," Aegon admits, "I...I was not the best husband to her. I may not have loved her in that way, the way I love (y/n), but I still could have been there for her in this fragile state. I wasn't there for Helaena when I should have. But I was there for (y/n), it gave me the chance to be there for someone in our family who needed that kind of support."

This confession definitely perplexed Aemond to a certain degree. He knew damn well how Aegon handled Helaena's pregnancies, he was there to see how it went. Hells, Aemond was the one who was there for his sister when Aegon wasn't, and it did anger him that Aegon couldn't have been bothered. He didn't, however, realize up until now this was something Aegon had come to regret.

"A son will be expected you know," Aemond informs his brother, rubbing your baby bump, "at least that is what mother says." "I'm not sure I want a son," Aegon admits, mimicking his brother's actions, "I want it to be another daughter, like Jaehaera." Aemond frowned a bit at that confession, which didn't go unnoticed by Aegon, "Part of me worries that what happened to Jaehaerys...and also to Maelor, I worry that a similar fate will befall this little one should it be a boy."

Aemond felt he understood. It made him realize how much the Blood and Cheese tragedy effected his brother. He knew how it affected Helaena on an intrinsic level, but it didn't occur to him how much Aegon would have been grieving over the loss of his son...both of his sons. It was, after all, why Aegon had Rhaenyra executed in the first place, to avenge his oldest son. It was part of why Aemond confronted Daemon over the God's Eye to avenge the death of his nephew.

Aemond then placed his own hand over Aegon's, right over the spot he was rubbing on your swollen baby, "We'll make sure that will never happen," he assures, "never again. We'll all make certain this child will be safe and grow into the future king or queen they are meant to be. We'll make certain this child is loved and cared for. We won't make the mistakes we made in the past, nor will we repeat the mistakes our own parents made."

Aegon nods, a silent acceptance of this vow. They will be there for this child, and for the rest of their surviving children as well.

Right then, both brothers felt the babes' kick against your belly, taking them both by surprise. Aegon couldn't help but smile at that, "it appears this little one has been listening in on our conversation." "Must appear to agree," Aemond smiles back as Aegon presses a kiss where the babe kicked.

The babe kicked once again at that.

Right at that moment, you began to stir from sleep. You rub your swollen belly, right where the babe had kicked. You open your eyes to see both your husbands were already awake.

"Good morning, dear husbands," you say as you stretch and stifle a yawn. "Good morning," Aegon says, "Did we wake you?" "Not at all," you assure moving to lay on your back, attempting to sit up, but having some trouble. Aemond gave a helping hand there. "If anything, this little one was the one to decide when my rest was over."

Both your husbands chuckled at that statement. You have been noticing lately since they both started sharing a bed with you, they've been agreeing on lot more things, which included your attempts at humor.

"Have the two of you been up for long?" "Not too long," Aemond assures. "Just enough to have a conversation," Aegon adds. "What kind of conversation?" you asks.

Aegon and Aemond just exchange a knowing look before Aemond made the answer, "we have decided we are both excited for this little one to come into this world soon." "They will be loved and well cared for...and protected by those who would wish them harm," Aegon adds, placing a hand on your bump. You place a hand over his, which was then covered by Aemond's hand.

"Yes..." you speak, "they will be loved and protected...they are the future of this family."

The three of you laid there for a little while longer enjoying the silence, you unaware of what was spoken between your husbands earlier when you were asleep.

That it had reached an unspoken conclusion that for better or for worse, they were all in this together...they would be together to raise whatever children you will have with them, no matter who the father was.

[gulnarsultan]

Some funny stuff for Yandere Targaryens.

Yandere husband Maegor watches his wife socialize with others.

This is how each yandere Targaryen husband (or wife) watches over his precious wife.

Aegon (Conqueror) and Visenya fight to spend more time with their precious wives.

This is how Maegor is when his precious wife is not with him.

Yandere husband Aegon (conqueror) and his precious wife, Lady Targaryen.

Yandere Conquerors. Aegon, Maegor, Visenya. When one of their precious wives approaches.

Yandere husband Maegor, Lady Targaryen and their children.

Yandere Conquerors: Aegon, Maegor, Visenya. Lady Targaryen.

Yandere husband Aegon, Lady Targaryen, yandere husband Maegor.

Yandere Conquerors Aegon, Visenya and Lady Targaryen.

Yandere husbands Aegon (conqueror) and Maegor and Lady Targaryen.

Lady Targaryen and her children.

[lauraneedstochill]

My first choice (part 1/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 5500

warnings: friends to lovers, slow burn (with very obvious mutual pining), angst, Aegon is a sad boy (but ends up being a pretty good wingman!)

author's note: this is inspired by “Little women” and Amy March in particular. I took the liberty to rewrite some plot lines because to me Aemond is nothing like Laurie (Aegon is ;) and I hate love triangles so we are not having any of that sorry. it's a bit of a roller coaster so I divided it into 2 parts in hopes that it will be easier to read: the first part explains Aemond's feelings, the second one is about hers. ✨ part 2

part 1. How could you be so blind

Aegon knows he's supposed to be relieved — he never wanted the crown and now that Rhaenyra is the Queen and a feast is arranged in her honor, he should be celebrating. And he may have been hitting the wine way too hard for the past couple of hours, but he can’t pretend to be happy, and he gave up trying to force a smile. It’s ridiculous that he is upset over this, and yet he can’t help but feel horribly useless. The prince drinks one cup after another until the room starts spinning and he can’t even sit straight — and then he suddenly finds himself propped against the wall, sliding under the table instead of sitting at it. Aegon catches a few judgemental glances but at this point, he couldn’t care less. There is only one person whose judgment he is afraid of — and it’s not long before he’s greeted with a displeased remark:

“When I asked you not to swoop too low, I couldn’t imagine you would literally lay on the floor.”

He looks up — and here you are, staring down at him, not even trying to cover up your disappointment. At any other time, Aegon would’ve at least tried to sober up, but today he’s disappointed in himself, too, so he doesn’t make an effort. Instead, he reaches out an arm to you with a lax smile:

“Would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t get the invitation to this pity party so I will pass,” your tone suggests you are not in the mood for jesting. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making a fool out of yourself, would you mind getting upright?”

“I think I like it here,” he retorts, shamelessly staring at the legs of the maids passing by. 

“You like wallowing in misery for all to see?” you huff. “Aegon, get up.”

He fakes a whine:

“My legs gave out, I’m afraid!” 

“You would need to drink all the wine in the castle for that to happen, and I doubt you managed to do that,” you roll your eyes, taking a step toward him — but pause upon hearing a voice behind your back:

“You underestimate my brother.”

Aemond has a habit of sneaking up on people which often startles you yet right now you are too angry at Aegon to be bothered. You throw Aemond a glare over your shoulder but your eyes soften when you see the apologetic look on his face. It’s not the first time that the two of you find yourself in this situation — throughout the years you learned to work as a team: you bring Aegon back to his senses while Aemond helps to physically bring him to the nearest flat surface. You have never asked him for help — and yet he’s always there.

Aemond is about to lean down to help his brother up — you stop the one-eye prince with your hand, your palm inches away from his chest. Anyone else would’ve thought twice before standing in his way but you don’t hesitate.

“He is perfectly capable to get up on his own,” you reject Aemond’s attempt, your eyes fixed on Aegon. “He can hold onto the wall shall he feel unable to stay on his two feet.”

There is something in your gaze that makes Aegon uncomfortable, piercing him to the bone. You are never downright mean or rude but with just a few words you can easily unmask his feigned recklessness. The prince stands up, tottering and feeling a little light-headed.

“Are you happy, now when I'm in the standing position?”

“If you cared about anyone else's feelings but your own, you wouldn't be in this position,” you scold him while Aemond takes his brother under the arm to guide him out. Aegon tries to grab another cup of wine but you slap his hand.

“Do you ever get ashamed of yourself?” you hiss at him.

“Let me think... No, why would I?” he sounds sarcastic.

“You should be,” you whisper scream at him. “You can find nothing to do but dawdle and make a mockery of yourself!”

Aemond feels his brother shuddering at your words, and he tightens his hold on Aegon.

“Well, what else am I to do,” his voice is bitter. “Since I am not an heir and serve no purpose to the realm nor do I have any taste for duty.”

You slow your pace, and a sigh leaves your mouth.

“I feel sorry for you, Aegon, I do. I only wish you'd bear it better,” you reach out to stroke his arm but the prince bristles.

“You don't have to feel sorry for me. Your duty is to marry, and we will see how that goes,” he mutters before he can stop himself — and regrets it the very next second when you swiftly turn to him.

“At least I would be respected if I couldn't be loved,” your tone hushed but sharp.

Aegon stops dead in his tracks, his wide eyes meeting yours. You moved away from the crowd into the hall, and it becomes silent. And then his lower lip quivers.

“But I thought that you loved me,” Aegon whimpers, his assumed nonchalance instantly gone.

“Oh, Aegon, how much did you have to drink?” you come to his side, lending him a shoulder to cry on. While he’s aggressively sniffling, you look at Aemond and quietly mouth “How many cups?”

“Way more than usual,” he gives you a wan smile, and you groan at his answer, taking Aegon by the arm.

“Alright, you can lean on me. But don’t get handsy or I will push you down the stairs,” your remark earns a weak laugh from the older prince, and the three of you head toward his chambers.

Aegon doesn’t talk much but his mood softens and you exchange a few jokes before finally reaching his room.

“I can take it from here,” Aemond suggests but his brother eagerly protests.

“No, I want to be tucked into bed! And definitely not by you,” he sticks out his tongue, and you chuckle at his whim.

“Aemond, I can handle him.” 

The one-eyed prince shoots you a knowing glance and holds the door open for you and Aegon to walk in. You slowly move to his bed, making sure he doesn’t stumble on his way — and then, with a sudden boost of energy, the prince flops down on the fluffy blankets, letting out a satisfied moan. You hold back a giggle and wait for him to crawl under the covers.

“Should I call for the maid to help you undress?”

“No, I am way too comfortable like this,” he pulls the blanket up to his chin, and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved,” he reveals, frowning. “I did not mean to, truly.”

“Aegon, you know I’m not the one you should apologize to,” you take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it with childish eagerness. “You left Helaena all alone. And you promised me you would make an effort.”

“I know, I know,” he yawns. “I was doing better until today, I swear, you should ask her,” his speech becomes incoherent as he is already too drowsy to talk, his cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat of the blankets. As you stand up to leave, Aegon mumbles:

“I fetched you a book... the one you were looking for,” he sloppily points to his table by the window before dozing off.

There is only one book so it’s easy to find — and when you do, you can barely contain a sound of surprise: it's the complete history of Westeros, heavy and hardcover, decorated with gilding. You glance at Aegon but he looks fast asleep so you cautiously get out of his chambers.

If you were to turn around, you would’ve noticed that he kept an eye on you with a grin on his face.

When you walk out, you see Aemond still standing there, his gaze landing on the book and then immediately on you. It takes you a minute to figure it out and then you smile at him:

“Even though I appreciate the gesture, it is hard to imagine Aegon in the library.”

“He asked me to help him find the book you wanted. I did,” the prince explains as if it isn’t that big of a deal. But to you, it is — although you think he only did it out of politeness.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you enthusiastically turn your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in awe. He watches you, feeling the warmth in his chest at the sight of your joy.

“You know that you bring out the best in him?” Aemond says in a low voice, and your heart skips a beat at his comment. You are thankful for the dim lighting that makes your heated cheeks less obvious.

“You overestimate my influence,” you say, then dither before admitting, “I’m afraid I was too hard on him today.”

“Someone has to do it,” Aemond objects, and there’s something in his tone — sincere and soft, that makes you look at him again. At this moment, away from the prying eyes and the pressure of everyone’s expectations, you can see the side of him that people rarely get acquainted with.

“I think you are doing a pretty good job, too,” you tell the prince, finding his presence ever so calming. You could never understand why would anyone call Aemond intimidating when he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you two met. Whenever you have a chance to be alone with him, his company always brings you comfort, and that feeling is so rare, you want to chase it.

But then you remind yourself of the harsh reality, and your smile falters.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” you look down at the book. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.” 

“You need to elaborate on that,” Aemond says uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve heard that you were courting lady Baratheon,” you explain casually, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitates before answering.

“Well, I only plan to,” the prince clarifies. “If she accepts my advances.”

“It would be silly of her not to,” you blurt out and, while you can’t see it, Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“She may have her reasons —” 

“I can’t come up with a single one,” you tell him with so much confidence, Aemond’s heart flutters at your words but you continue without a second thought. “You are intelligent, good-hearted, handsome — and a really skilled swordsman. Not to mention you have the biggest dragon in the realm, which does sound like a reasonable perk.”

The prince is glad that you’re too preoccupied with the book to see his stunned expression. It’s not just the fact that you compliment him so easily — but also the way you do it. When other people try to, they usually start with Vhagar as if the old grumpy creature is the main good thing about Aemond. But you only bring up the dragon at the very end and in passing, instead keeping the focus on the prince. He is silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his memory.

And then Aemond persuades himself that you only said it out of politeness.

You notice his lack of response — and you are about to question it when a maid comes to you in haste:

“Lady Y/N, your presence is needed. Your father is looking for you.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” the prince encourages you with a grin. “If he finds Aegon, he might hug him to death.”

You playfully elbow him and turn to follow the maid but then stop to say:

“Please make sure your brother stays in bed.”

“Will do,” Aemond looks at you walking away, clutching the book to your chest as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

To this day, it is truly a mystery to him how Aegon managed to befriend someone like you. You met the Targaryen brothers when your family was invited to one of the royal feasts. You were ten and three, the middle one of three sisters. Your oldest — Elaesa — has been the center of attention, beautiful and graceful, but while everyone’s eyes were on her, you looked a little bit disoriented. It was the first feast that you’ve attended, and maybe you got too agitated or overwhelmed — or both — but soon you ended up lost in the castle, and somehow ripped the hem of your dress in the process.

Aemond was the one to find you. The prince has never been keen on taking part in celebrations, often sneaking away from all the noise. That’s when he saw you — fussing with the dress, your sobs echoing through the hall.

“Are you hurt?” he rushed to your side, and you looked up at him with blubbered eyes.

“Why do you have so many halls? You should hand out maps so people can find their way back,” despite being clearly upset, you sounded unusually serious, and Aemond fought back a smile.

“I can help you find your parents without a map,” he suggested, and for a second it seemed to lighten your mood but then your pout worsened.

“I cannot go back,” you gestured at the dress. “I am in such trouble!” you whined, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

Truth be told, Aemond didn’t have much experience with ladies back then nor did he know a thing about dresses but your distress seemed so genuine he couldn’t leave you be.

“It is not that bad,” he pointed at the ripped material. “I can ask our seamstress to take a look.”

You studied his face for a second, then glanced back at the dress — surprisingly, that was all it took for you to stop crying, and no other coaxing was needed. You wiped your nose and fixed your hairdo, smoothing the damaged hem the best you could.

“I'd appreciate it if you help me find my way back,” you said, your face seemingly more relaxed.

Getting you to talk was pretty easy, and Aemond shortly discovered how open-minded and outspoken you were, using your quick thinking to compensate for your timid personality. When you returned to the hall of the Iron Throne, he was reluctant to let you go but promised to come back with the seamstress. The task only took him about ten minutes, but when he did reappear, you were not alone — Aegon was standing next to you, making you laugh so hard, it looked like you forgot about the dress already. Aemond didn’t mean to interrupt as he suddenly felt very out of place, uninvited in his own home, so he abandoned the idea of helping you and just left.

At first, he thought you fell for Aegon’s flirtatious charms but soon learned that, as much as you did like his brother’s humor, his charms had no effect on you. On the contrary, you often chided him for hitting on young girls and openly condemned his affection for wine. Your honesty set you apart from all the ladies Aegon was surrounded with — and that was the reason he came to enjoy your company as much as he did. Despite the three years age gap, you were the one who told him the truth, no matter how ugly it might’ve been, but you did so without prejudice or any ill intentions. You would usually follow your critique with advice or a solution of some sort to keep the prince away from unnecessary trouble. That is why you were on friendly terms with Helaena, too, and your influence was also welcomed by Alicent, the then Queen. She liked that you were straightforward with your remarks and often said that you were wise beyond your years. Although, as much as Aemond agreed with it, he suspected there was a reason you had to grow up early.

It happened the same year you met — your older sister, with all her grace and beauty, ran away from home to elope with some unworthy beggar. Your mother was inconsolable for at least a week, saying that Elaesa brought shame upon her family. Your father, the kind man that he is, forgave his daughter fairly quickly and tried his best to restore peace. And yet, you came to realize that Elaesa's vagary did cast a shadow over your House. Your youngest sister, Alyna, was a fragile little thing, frequently sick and tacit — which left you to be the one representing your family in the eyes of society.

Within a few years, there wasn't a thing you weren't good at: lords lined up to have a dance with you, ladies admired how well-spoken you were and shared a laugh at your florid sarcasm, and you learned to embroider, to ride a horse, to walk exquisitely dressed and with impeccable posture. But while for everyone else it was a reason to compliment you, Aemond saw the underlying cause of your diligence — the corrosive desire to prove one's worth which was something he learned to live with as well. And which led him to think he understood you better than anyone.

More often than not he found himself watching you as if he had the need to make sure you weren't in harm's way. Helping you with Aegon was a part of that routine but it also gave him a chance to be alone with you. You talked about everything and nothing in particular, and he would catch glimpses of you — the real you, shy and emotional at times, but still understanding and perceptive. He cherished every opportunity to steal you away from the never-ending chattering, from lords ogling at you, from Jason Lannister whose interest in your company should've been concerning. Aemond has gotten so used to observing you, so enthralled with your covert conversations, he didn't realize that a particular feeling was creeping up on him. But there was one person who turned out to be more observant than Aemond has been. Aegon was the mere reason why his brother ended up at your door a few days later. Aemond’s been to your place a couple of times and he promptly memorized the way to the farthest room of the house — the one you used to paint in. It was the only thing you truly allowed yourself to enjoy, an unexpected talent of yours which you soon perfected, too, except it wasn't meant for the others to marvel at but plainly for you to keep your head occupied, to have some quiet time.

He walks in when you are already painting the finishing touches. When you turn to greet him, you stop mid-sentence, seeing that it’s Aemond instead of his brother who you were waiting for.

“He overslept,” the younger prince shrugs. “It isn't a bothersome task to come pick up the portrait of my nephews.”

You point in the direction of the painting with the brush in your hand. Aemond admires your work — as he always does — while you try to shake off your confusion. There is another reason you did not expect to see Aemond today. You tarry with voicing your concern but eventually glance at him with empathy:

“I was sorry to hear about lady Baratheon’s decision.”

“I was not,” he’s quick to retort.

“I cannot imagine agreeing to marry a Stark,” you say, dipping a brush in a jar of water.

“Is it the cold weather?” Aemond grins knowingly.

“Yes! Gods, just thinking about it makes me feel uneasy. All the layers you have to wear to keep yourself warm, barely being able to move, getting no sunlight...,” you ramble, making sure to wet all the brushes before lining them up on the table.

“Some say they've got quite a beautiful scenery,” Aemond tries to object although he knows his argument doesn't stand a chance.

“I wouldn't be able to enjoy that,” you huff. “How am I to capture the beauty if my paint freezes?”

He only hums in agreement, watching you busy yourself with your supplies. You go through the brushes, delicately cleaning the bristles with a cloth. Your fingers carefully take one brush after the other, and Aemond silently admires your love for neatness and order.

“You are staring,” you say without turning to him.

“Where do you want me to look at?”

“Aemond, you are in a room full of art!” you chuckle lightly. “Surely, enough options to land your eye on.”

The prince lets his gaze go around the place, and it takes him about a minute to quickly examine all the paintings. And then he inevitably looks at you again. Aemond thinks he likes this view the most.

“When do you begin your next great work of art?” he asks, hoping to distract you. 

You halt movement, then force out glumly:

“Never.”

“What do you mean?” he’s taken by surprise.

“I’ve come to realize that I’d never be a genius,” you reluctantly explain. “So I’m giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.”

“Y/N, you cannot be serious. You have so much talent and — ”

“Talent isn’t genius!” you throw up your hands in defeat, and he can sense your frustration from a distance. “I may be talented in other things, but when it comes to painting, I want to be great or nothing. And I am only of middling talent,” you scoop up the brushes, give them a quick look and place in another jar to dry.

Aemond wants to argue, he really does — but he also knows better than to try and persuade you when you are like this: firmly standing your ground, exuding nothing but stubbornness. In any other situation, he would’ve found it endearing but it’s upsetting to see you downplaying your brilliance.

“Hm, may I at least ask your last portrait to be of me?”

You instantly turn to him, taken aback. Throughout the years you’ve known him, he clearly expressed that he did not like being painted, and you only could make a quick sketch or two, at best, when he wasn't paying attention.

“Alright,” the long-awaited opportunity makes you smile. “Next time I come for breakfast, I will drag you into the garden to pose for me,” you give him a pointed look, and Aemond humbly nods.

Your smile grows wider but you try to tone it down, afraid to spook him, and focus on wiping the nearest table.

“What are you going to do with your life in the meantime?” he changes the subject.

“Polish up my other skills and become an ornament to society,” you sigh, putting the cloth away.

There’s a brief pause before he says, his voice a bit strained:

“Here is where Jason Lannister comes in, I suppose?”

You say yes but the answer comes a little bit too fast, and Aemond notices that the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“But you are yet to be betrothed to him,” he clarifies, gaze fixed on you.

“I will be if he proposes,” your eyes meet his, and you are sure that there’s a shadow of disapproval on his face that only spurs your stubbornness. You fully turn to the prince to say: “I always knew I had to marry well, I do not feel ashamed of that.”

But Aemond isn’t looking for a fight — he swiftly corrects himself:

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. As long as...” — he can barely bring himself to say it — “As long as you love him.”

For the reason unknown to Aemond, his statement brings a bleak smile to your face.

“I believe we can have some power over who we love,” you object, lowering your gaze for a second as you start absentmindedly twisting the ring on your finger.

“I think the poets would disagree,” he chuckles, trying to defuse the unexpected tension. 

But when you look up at him, your glare is as obdurate as ever.

“Well, I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” you rebut crisply. “And as a woman, I have no illusions about my prospects which do not include me earning a living to support my family. And my parent’s fortune has its limits as I've come to learn. Hence why, if I want to have children — I do — and be able to provide them with everything they wish for, I must rely on my husband,” that last word is pronounced with disappointment. “So don't stand here and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me.”

Had he not known you, Aemond would’ve been very impressed — with how blunt and witty you are, you are very good at delivering speeches. But as he’s standing in front of you, watching your face, he senses that your determination is akin to despair. Aemond thinks he might take a chance at arguing with you, after all — but you’re both startled by a knock on the door:

“Lady Y/N, Ser Lannister just arrived.”

You look baffled for a second, your confidence crumbling.

“Why would he — I, I didn’t expect him today,” you mumble, almost ashamed of his arrival.

Yet you pull yourself together faster than Aemond can come up with a reason for you to stay. You remove your apron and quickly examine your dress, then move to put on a cape.

“Did I miss any paint stains?” you ask Aemond in a haste.

“No,” he looks over the flowing material of your neat dress, your hair knotted up high — and then: “...Wait!”

You stop abruptly while he grabs a clean cloth.

“There is something on your cheek,” he says as you both step toward each other — and in the next second you’re suddenly standing too close. 

You turn to him and shyly shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Aemond is frozen for a moment but then carefully wipes away a slight smudge of green from under your cheekbone. His hand unwillingly lingers as he examines the delicate features of your face. You open your eyes, looking at the prince questingly. His facial expression is unreadable but it makes you wish you didn’t have to go.

You brush away that silly thought and stand back, fixing your cape.

“How do I look? Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Aemond says with no hesitation, taking you in — with your cheeks a bit flushed, lip parted and eyes shining. “You are beautiful.”

You seem bewildered at his words but then a smile grows on your face — and in a blink of an eye, you’re gone. The prince is left standing there, staring at the spot where you were just now. The room suddenly feels so empty without you — and so does his heart.

The realization strikes Aemond like lightning: he wants to be the one you come to, at all times. The one holding your hand, watching you paint, or read, or dance — watching you do whatever your heart desires. Because his only desire is to be with you. That thought puts down roots deep into his chest, and he doesn’t know how to pluck it out.

Nor does he want to. It’s all he can think about for the duration of the week, until you come to the castle — with canvas and supplies, not hiding your excitement. He almost forgot about his promise but follows you into the garden without objection. You sense a slight change in Aemond’s behavior, him being more quiet than usual, but decide not to push the prince so he won’t reconsider.

“I will start with a sketch and then we will go from there. Alright?” 

He just hums in response while looking at you but you are unaware of the meaning behind his gaze.

“Take any pose you like, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,” you suggest with a half-smile, knowing full well he will probably remain standing.

And he does, arms clasped behind his back, his eye never leaving your face. You immerse in the process too quickly to be bothered, the piece of charcoal in your hand sliding over the paper, leaving lines and shadows. Drawing Aemond is an effortless task, and you can only enjoy how easy it is to sketch the sharp contours of his face and his lean body. The simplicity can also be explained by the fact that you've already memorized all the details by heart: the curves of his cheekbones and his lips, the flow of his silver hair, the shape and cut of his eye.

When you are finally satisfied, you can’t tell if it’s been an hour or three, and the prince, as it seems, hasn’t moved a muscle. At this point, Aemond’s demeanor does worry you yet you blame it on his nervousness.

“Want to take a look?” you hand him a few sketches. “Mind you, I’m not finished so please don’t judge too harshly —”

“I could never,” his hand brushes yours when he takes the drawings.

Aemond has seen your works before but it's a whole new experience when he's the one being portrayed. He almost doesn't recognize himself — you didn't miss a single feature of his yet somehow this version of him looks too beautiful to be real. He's at a loss for words until he spots that there's another drawing hidden underneath. It's a sketch of him sitting, both arms on the table, his face looks like he's deep in his thoughts.

“When did you do this one?”

“After the coronation,” the memory makes you smile. “Made my poor father lug around with charcoal in his pockets while he was trying to keep up the conversation with Ser Lannister.”

It was the day you got introduced to Jason. You were supposed to be by his side, with your charming smile and polite talks, yet you spend your time drawing Aemond. He can imagine your gaze focused on the piece of paper, the way you must've been looking at him to capture every detail and movement — all of that without him asking to, without him even noticing. There's so much care in that act, he is unexpectedly moved by it.

The words leave his mouth before he can think them over:

“Don't marry him.”

His request makes your hands tremble, and you drop the piece of charcoal, slowly looking up at Aemond, the smile disappearing from your face. He did not mean that, you must've misunderstood.

“...What?”

Aemond turns to you, looking you straight in the eyes:

“Don't marry him,” he repeats, helplessly and desperately.

“Why?” you ask in disbelief, suddenly having trouble breathing. The only reason you can think of sounds delusional, close to impossible. You wait for him to come up with some clever explanation — instead, he comes closer to you, his gaze so warm it makes your cheeks burn.

“You know why,” Aemond says and his hand gently lands on yours. You look down at it, perplexed, your mouth opening and closing, heart rate speeding up.

He keeps his eye on your face as he waits for your reply. You are not repulsed nor angry — which is supposed to be a good sign — but the reaction he gets is actually worse than that. Because when you finally glance at him, you look hurt.

“No,” you yank away your hand as if his touch stung. “No, Aemond, you are being mean, stop it,” you take a step back, your eyes glossy and lips tight. The look you give causes him physical pain — while you are trying your best to fight back the tears.

His intelligence clearly fails him because Aemond has no clue what’s going on. He feels like there is a deeper meaning to your words but he does not get it.

“Why am I being mean?” he asks incredulously as you slowly continue putting more distance between you two.

You don’t even realize you are doing it — it’s almost an urge to not be in his presence, for the first time ever. The weight of his words feels suffocating and merciless. How easy it is for him to toy with your emotions, you think, and that cruelty of his — as you see it — wounds you so deeply, he might as well put a torch to your heart.

“I have felt like everyone’s second choice my entire life,” you bemoan, not being able to keep your agony bottled up any longer. “In everything, no matter how hard I’ve worked to be better. I thought you out of all people would understand that,” you sound raspy, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“So I will not be the person you settle for just because your first marriage proposal was turned down,” only when your voice shudders, Aemond finally understands how wrongfully you interpreted his intentions.

But you are out of his reach already — at least ten feet away from him, and the distance separates you like a giant chasm.

“No, I won’t. I can’t,” you are hurting so much, your feelings spill out like blood from a wound. “I can’t do it. Not when I have spent years loving you.”

His breathing hitches as your confession pierces through his chest — and he is left speechless, deafened by it. The moment slips through his fingers with unforgiving pace: you were standing so close only a minute ago — and now you are turning your back to him, rushing away. The last thing he sees is how broken you look, your shoulders slumped and eyes brimming with tears. 

Aemond stands, shocked and paralyzed until it’s too late — the garden is silent with your absence and the only evidence of you being there is your supplies scattered on the ground. Your words are ringing in his head, his heart heavy with a dreadful feeling.

He was afraid he would never have you — but he actually could have.

If only he wasn't so blind.

➡ Part 2

yes, this is me blabbing again: I’ve watched this movie an embarrassing amount of times, and I’ve wanted to write a fic based on it for a few months. I did rephrase a couple of quotes but still tried my best to do the story justice. my apologies for the angst — just so you know, it was painful to write. also, will I ever stop using friends to lovers trope? only time will tell! (I probably won't, though) I know there is a very heartwarming fic by aemonds-war-crime that was also based on “Little women” and it's only fair that I link it as well!

tagging @greenowlfactif because you asked 💙 comments and opinions are VERY welcomed! 🥺 🎨 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[arcielee]

And you told me I should concentrate.

Summary: Aemond makes a mistake. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2050 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, definite voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: Here is part 2 of Only if for a night. You wanted sad boi Aemond and here he is, wholly confused and just fucking things up 😂 Thank you to my beta reader @f4ll-for-you, you always help me to give the best version of our baby girl Aegon. 💜 lēkia is brother Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @bucknastysbabe

His sister had once said that it was fate to crave what is given to another, but for Aemond, it was a dull ache that reverberated within his ribs as he dragged Aegon to the Iron Throne. 

Aemond was first and foremost dutiful, his steadfast devotion extended to his brother and his crown, and it led his steps towards the confrontation on the Sept steps. But it was now a distant memory, along with the initial hesitation he had felt, as he was pleased that Aegon not just carried their ancestral crown as a decoration, but showed pride, thriving with his kingship. 

He had no qualms to follow through with the expected betrothal that had been made, as your dowry had allowed them their victory. But Aemond could not help the relief that washed over when you had been formally introduced; you were poised, you were beautiful, and you had no compulsion to fill the air with incessant chatter, as he often found the other ladies of the court always were compelled to droll on. 

It truly seemed to be a favorable match; you were not blatantly besotted with your intended–as Aemond knew this to be expected, Targaryen or not, he was always aware of the scar that burned across his features–but you were courteous, and he admired the touch of pink to your cheeks whenever his attention was solely on you.

The ceremony had been modest and you seemed grateful with how he threw the crowd that crowed for proof of your maidenhead from the chambers. It left you alone with your new husband and the unease that filled the air between.

Aemond was aware of your slight tremor, and he was mindful of every noise that spilled from your rosy lips, his hands were gentle to touch, guided by your soft sounds. With the proof of your purity spilled on the linen, and before he had left, he called for your handmaidens to have a warm bath drawn to help the ache between your thighs. 

His dutiful nature followed into his role as lord husband, though perhaps not in a romantic sense, but he would escort you to break fast with his siblings and mother, or he would suggest a stroll in the gardens of the Red Keep if the weather allowed it. Aemond was also certain to allow your time apart, allowing you to keep the company of your handmaidens, but also he would come in the evenings to do what was expected of a man and wife. 

But despite the time spent together outside of the marital chambers, there still tarried a trepidation in his bones. You were still reserved, the very embodiment of the perfect lady wife, but he was almost uneasy with how you responded to his touch, to his kiss. Aemond had hoped against hope that you would eventually bloom in response, but you seemed content to remain encased within your petals. 

So Aemond sought advice from his sister Helaena, as he knew she allowed him a candid honesty and he could trust whatever insight she had to offer. She had always been a resounding comfort for him, something that began with his dismemberment when she faithfully visited him as he healed.

Their bond was something that knitted tightly in the marrow of their bones, something that naturally gave into an intimacy they shared when she first married Aegon. At first, resentment boiled beneath as Aemond watched how his brother disrespected his lady wife, how he was lost in his whores of Fleabottom and neglected fulfilling his marital duties. 

This was when Helaena noticed how his gaze lingered and she called in her singsong voice, “it is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another.” 

It was a thrill, her touch both familiar and unfamiliar, something that stirred a warmth in his lower abdomen, curling at the base of his spine. “The blood of the dragon must thrive,” she had whispered against his lips. 

There was a sense of pride with how his legacy showed in the features of Jaehaerys’ that sharpened as he grew, and in the silk, silver texture of Jaehaera’s tresses, as well as the shade of lavender in the wide eyes of Maelor. 

But this had not been his intention when he came to her that night, though he found it was too easy to fall back into her warm curves and embrace; her lyrical hymn that was coy to coax him–may the gods forgive him, but Aemond relished in being desired again. 

He knew it was a lustful moment of weakness, and as the post-coital haze lifted, a sense of shame settled over in its place; Aemond had no intention to whore around on his wife, that he wished for her to carry his legitimate child, his legacy, as what was expected, as what was their duty to the realm.

“You just found your confidence again, lēkia,” Helaena remained bare, curled beneath the duvet, and watched as Aemond dressed. “You already know what you must do.”

Aemond knew he had to see you. 

In the days that followed, the routine was broken by the bliss that now engulfed you, your tiptoes tumbling on air as you flit throughout the Red Keep. Aemond saw how you glowed, as did anyone who dared to compliment his wife, but he also noticed how the sugared words drew a knowing smirk across the king’s face.

Aegon knew the real reason behind your changed disposition, but played coy to relish in your reactions. It was a childish tease with a sharp pull to your shirts if you passed him by and the tug of fabric jolted through you, a warmth rekindled in your core, or how he would place his palm on your lower back, leaning until his lips almost touched your ear with the soft words, “How lovely you look today,” and that warmth would spill into your features, crimson with his praise. 

You were flushed, your eyes bright, and this sweet demeanor was not missed by your husband, but Aemond hoped this meant you would be more receptive to coupling. The thought fluttered through his mind, propelling his steps forward that night as he made his way through one of the many ingresses that weaved the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. He was quiet to enter your room, greeted by the golden flow of the tapers lit, by the sounds that spilled from your bed.  

He could not press further, cemented to the cobblestone at the sight. 

You were lovely and you were bare, sinking into the mattress with the top of your head towards the end of the bed, towards where your husband was rooted but you were unaware of his presence. Rose hues intimately stained your skin and the peaks of your thighs, your back arching with a mewled cry. Aemond watched your delicate hands reach to comb through the traited silver head of hair that was dipped between your flushed thighs, trembling with your building pleasure, with a hold to anchor him between. 

“Aegon, my gods…”

And then Aegon broke for a moment of air, pulling from your grasp and your hands trailed the planes of his chest to his abdomen; his mouth and chin glistened with your pleasure, and his hooded eyes fell to Aemond for a moment. 

You did not follow his gaze. “Aegon?” 

Aemond felt the blood rush to his cheeks, to his cock, and he took a soft step backwards while Aegon held his steady stare, bringing his fingers to wipe his face and suck lewdly on his digits. “Sweet girl,” he cooed, his gaze dropping to admire your flushed features, “I wish you to come on my cock.”  

Before you could protest, his large palms wrapped around your wrists, pulling you towards him. “Do not take your eyes off of me,” his lips pressed to yours, bringing you towards his chest to straddle him, your plush thighs caging his lap. His hot mouth captured your nipple, his tongue tracing your areola with a familiarity that caused you to cry out. 

“Aegon, please,” you panted, trying to squirm and feeling his girth against the slick of your cunt. His large palms grasped the softness of your hips, pulling you closer until his arms could wrap around your waist, his lips following the curve of your chest and licking the column of your neck, placing a noisy kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Aegon, you cannot mark me, what if it is seen–?” 

“Let them see,” his voice was dark, his hand dipping between and lining the flushed head of his cock to press into your entrance, wet and wanting from your prior peaks of the night. “Let them hear you,” his command was husky.  

Pitiful sounds poured from your lips as you lowered onto him, an indescribable fullness as he stretched your velvet walls. Your eyes fluttered into the back of your head, your hands coming to bite into his broad shoulders and hold yourself upright, still flushed against his chest. 

Aegon kept his hold on your waist, his palms pressed onto your skin, his lips ghosted the junction of your neck to your shoulder and you giggled from the sensation. “Your king commands you to stop clenching,” he hissed and you felt the hot exhale of his low voice

You giggled again, finding his lips for a kiss, your tongue curling in his mouth to taste him, to taste yourself. “Forgive me, my king,” you whispered, meeting with his eyes, the violet almost completely swallowed by his blown out pupils; your lips curled upwards with the slow roll of your hips against him. 

It was his turn for his eyes to disappear into his skull, with a low, guttural groan in response to the pace you set, and the lewds sounds that accompanied the sensual movement.  Your arms wrapped around his neck and he dipped his head forward to press his lips against your breast, leaving welts that flushed dark against your skin, his teeth dragging to the other with the same assault of his mouth.

You gasped at the sensation, with how it spilled into your bloodstream, coursing to the ends and fluttering back to the coil that tightened in your lower abdomen. You were slick between, your legs burned with the motion and, as if he could read your mind, did his grip tightened and Aegon met with a relentless pace, his hips rutting upwards into you.  

“I will only forgive you,” he was breathless with his unrelenting tempo, “if you come undone.” 

“Aegon,” you gasped, the flashes of color that sparked in front of your eyes and the tears that pearled in the corners, “I am so close.” 

“Touch yourself,” his voice was thick with the command and your hand pulled away, your fingers trailing his shoulder blade and coming around to follow his collarbone; Aegon dipped his head again, capturing your fingers in his mouth, his tongue wettening the pads before it fell between and pressed against the bloom of bundled nerves above. 

Your cries echoed the room, already so close to the precipice and your own touch is what pushed you over with a rush of blood towards your heart and your cunt, the coil bursting within and the pleasure unfurling, pressing against your seams. It was if you were drowning in this sense of bliss, something all-consuming as his thick member pulsed inside your cunt and you clenched in response, a vice, and still so very unaware. 

Aegon, however, held you close, his cheeks ruddy and eyes still dark as they looked past and towards Aemond, watching how his neck bobbed when he swallowed before falling another step backwards and disappearing where he came from, the entrance closing quietly behind. 

He moved towards his chambers, his palm adjusting the crotch of his slacks, his long gait to remove him. They had not married for love, and he always knew this; it was hopeful–it was foolish to think it could grow beyond the duty that was expected of them. 

And as he had done for Aegon, it was returned; in the end, all that mattered was that the blood of the dragon would thrive still. 

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