#aegon; wine-addled

[greenblooded]

Quick masterlist of tags so I don’t forget!

Aethan

dreams: && dew in the morning

nightmares: && a loveless mother

moodboard: aethan; silent satinloves

Jacaerys

dreams: && honour and steel

nightmares: && blood in the skies

moodboard: jacaerys; seabreeze

Daemon

dreams: && healthy havoc

nightmares: && gnashing teeth

moodboard: daemon; bloodbreath

Rhaenyra

dreams: && legacies unbound

nightmares: && ashes

moodboard: rhaenyra; flamewalker

Aegon II

dreams: && lucid dreaming

nightmares: && aimless

moodboard: aegon; wine-addled

Alicent

dreams: && among friends

nightmares: && broken home

moodboard: alicent; silktouched

[kckt88]

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes III.

Summary:

Events of Dynasty through Aemond's POV.

Warning(s): Grief, Worry, Anger, Threats of Violence, Mention of Child Loss, Mentions of Sex, Child Birth, Blood.

Word Count: 3100.

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings/Ravenous/Don't Leave Me/Another Plane of Existence/Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I & Gēlenka Zaldrīzes II.

But can be read as a one-shot.

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond was staring at Vaera like she had three heads.

His sweet wife, who was heavy with their child, had just decided to inform him that she had beseeched the King for clemency on behalf of her bastard brother Jacaerys.

“He doesn’t deserve one single ounce of your kindness”.

“Nothing will ever change my love, not unless we are the ones who are willing to make those changes” whispered Vaera as she pressed her face against his chest.

“But he-“

“-Please Valzȳrys. My term is almost upon us, and I want to rejoice in the birth of our child, not spend it inciting another war” replied Vaera (Husband).

“Like the bastard could muster up anyone to support his cause” muttered Aemond rolling his eye.

“Cregan Stark would and with him the rest of the North would follow” whispered Vaera.

“Pfft, the Lord of Winterfell is of little concern to me”.

“He swore an oath to my mother, the Stark’s are honourable men” said Vaera quietly as she fiddled with a buckle on his tunic.

“I’ll introduce him to Vhagar, let’s see how honourable the northern dog is then”.

“Cregan Stark is of no concern, now that Jace has bent the knee” muttered Vaera.

“He what?” exclaimed Aemond.

“Aegon the younger and Viserys were offered in exchange”.

“Has my brother lost his wits” gasped Aemond.

“What other fate could have befallen the boys? They are but children, innocent of their parents crimes”.

“Children who will grown into men” whispered Aemond.

“Aegon also granted Jace possession of Dragonstone”.

“The ancestral seat of house Targaryen has the wine finally addled his brain?” asked Aemond.

“Jace needs somewhere to live, or would you rather have him here in the Red Keep?”

“I’d rather chew glass” quipped Aemond.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but we must accept it” breathed Vaera.

“Why do I feel like there’s something else you need to tell me?”

“Jace has asked that the King legitimize Cregan Stark’s younger sister Sara-” said Vaera.

“-And the point of that is?” asked Aemond.

“Surely, you’ve heard the rumours my love. Sara Snow is currently with child”.

“Bastards producing more bastards. Not exactly the sort of palace gossip I keep up to date with. I couldn’t give one single shit about where your brother sticks his cock” said Aemond.

“Aegon wanted Jace to bend the knee and he has. He’s been made aware of the consequences if he dares to entertain even the briefest of notions about reclaiming the Iron Throne. Aegon and Viserys will be executed in front of him” replied Vaera.

“I still don’t like it. My brother should just execute the lot of them and be done with it”.

“I’m tired of all the death Aemond, I just want to be at peace with our children” said Vaera.

Aemond knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Deep down he wanted exactly what his wife wanted. The war had taken so much from them, and he just wanted to look to the future.

But before that could happen there was still much to be done.

Reconstituting the council had been an arduous task, but somehow Aegon had managed it. Of course, having two of the largest dragons in the world in his corner helped to move things along.

But Aegon ruffled a few feathers, when he named Aemond as Hand of the King, Vaera his Mistress of Laws and offered Jeyne Arryn a place on the council.

Of course his generosity with Jacaerys didn't go down to well either, there were those that believed Rhaenyra's last strong bastard should be cast to the winds and exiled across the narrow sea with his bastard wife and offspring. But Aegon was unmoved and many on the council chastised the King being too soft hearted.

Clearly Aegon wasn’t finished with his little revelations as he had refused point blank to take another wife and sire anymore children and he also casually announced to his entire council that he was naming Rhaegar as heir to the Iron Throne and betrothing him to his daughter Jaehaera.

He had planned on having an official ceremony, but that would have to wait as Vaera had begun her labours.

Aemond hated seeing his wife in pain.

It made his heartbreak to know there wasn’t anything he could do.

“I-I can’t do this,” cried Vaera.

“Yes, you can” exclaimed Aemond as he climbed onto the bed at sat behind Vaera.

“W-What are you doing?” muttered Vaera.

“Lean against me and take my hands” urged Aemond as he pulled Vaera between his open legs.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaera.

“Now, you squeeze my hands as hard as you like” said Aemond.

Vaera was sweaty and exhausted, but she took a deep breath and as the next contraction ripped across her stomach, she pushed.

“FUCK!”

"Keep going my sweet you’re doing great" said Aemond.

"I'M GOING TO CUT YOUR COCK OFF!" screamed Vaera.

"Oh, my love, surely you don't mean that".

"I do. This is ALL your fault,” cried Vaera.

"Another push Princess" 

“I swear if you say push one more time. I'll feed you too my Cannibal” snarled Vaera.

“The head is out Princess, but I need you to stop pushing. The cord is wrapped around the babe’s neck” exclaimed Maester Munkun.

“W-What” cried Vaera in alarm.

“It’s ok. Issa dōna ābrazȳrys. Just breathe” said Aemond (My sweet wife).

After a few moments, the Maester had managed to cut the cord from the babe’s neck and with a wet squelch the babe arrived.

But the room was silent.

“M-My babe?” asked Vaera her hands raised in expectation of receiving her babe.

“Just a moment” replied Maester Munkun as the babe was lifted off the bed.

“What’s happening?” yelled Vaera, her hands still grasping endlessly for her babe.

“Why is the babe not crying? What’s happening?” exclaimed Aemond.

“Aemond” sobbed Vaera, her entire body shaking.

But Aemond could only sit in silence as he watched the Maester try to save his newly born babe.

Vaera began wailing loudly in anguish, as the seconds passed.

Aemond’s heart was in his throat as the Maester did everything he could to stimulate the silent babe.

“No. Please. Don’t take my babe. Not again. I can’t lose another babe” sobbed Vaera.

Aemond buried his face in Vaera’s shoulder as he tried to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

The wait was agony. His babe unmoving and lifeless in the arms of the Maester.

But then the sweetest sound in the world echoed around the room.

A loud shrieking cry.

“A daughter” declared the Maester.

Vaera all but snatched the crying babe away from Maester Munkun and sobbed.

“T-Thank you Maester” breathed Vaera, the tears streaming down her face.

“Your welcome Princess” replied Maester Munkun.

“S-She’s ok. Aemond, look” gasped Vaera.

Aemond let out a sob of relief as he gazed at his squalling daughter.

“My daughter. She’s ok. She’s alive. Thank the gods” gasped Aemond.

“She’s beautiful” cried Vaera as she stroked her daughter’s head.

“What shall we call her?” asked Aemond.

“Vharla” whispered Vaera.

“A-After my dragon?”

“I know how much Vhagar means too you and I wish to honour your old girl” replied Vaera.

Aemond’s heart burst with pride.

“So perfect” whispered Vaera.

“I’m so proud of you Issa prūmia” (my heart).

“I love you” muttered Vaera.

“-And I love you. My sweet perfect wife.” praised Aemond as he nuzzled Vaera’s neck.

“Would you like you hold your daughter?”

“Please” whispered Aemond as he manoeuvred himself away from Vaera and climbed off the bed.

Their daughter. They’d almost lost her. But she’s here. She’s safe.

Nestled in her father’s arms, Vharla had opened her eyes and Aemond’s heart stopped.

Those eyes. The colour of dark amethyst.

Exactly like her big brother’s.

She had Aemon’s eyes.

Their next babe, a boy named Caelan in honour of the Cannibal arrived in the world with relative ease, according to Aemond anyway.

As soon as he was delivered, the boy cried so loud that Aemond was sure the entire population of Kings Landing could hear him.

Caelan was such an easy babe, he slept and remained content as long as he was fed, warm and kept entertained.

He seemed to have developed a fascination with Rhaegar and would only sleep if his older brother was close by.

Which of course made Rhaegar feel special.

Vharla of course was indifferent and didn’t care for the drooling stinker she had to call brother.

Given they were so close in age, you’d think that they would get along, but sadly they didn’t as Vharla preferred to spend time with her grandmother most days.

Aegar’s birth however now that was eventful.

Vaera had gone beyond her term and there were some concerns expressed by the Maester’s over the health of both mother and babe, but Vaera remained steadfast in her view that the boy would simply come when he was ready.

Of course, doing things to help him along wasn’t an issue either as Aemond regularly found himself pressed against the bed as his wife rode him like a dragon.

Not that he minded at all, any excuse to stick his cock inside his wife was good enough for him.

On the day of Aegar’s birth, Vaera had been attending a council meeting with Aegon over some new tax laws that he wanted to implement. The other council members were not required to attend which in hindsight was probably a good thing.

Vaera had been experiencing pain on and off for most of the morning, but nothing seemed to progress, until of course she heard the splash of her water’s breaking and not even an hour later, Vaera was perched on the council table as she gave birth.

With no time to summon the Maester’s or midwives, Aegon had to be the one to support Vaera through the pain and ultimately help deliver the babe.

Upon his return from flying with Vhagar, Aemond was racing to the council chambers, to be greeted by the sounds of a crying babe.

Aemond would never forget the look on his older brother’s face as he leant against the wall, his hands shaking and his face much paler than usual.

Aegon admittedly saw more of Vaera that day than he ever wanted too.

But in the spirit of names, Vaera decided to honour her good brother, and named the babe Aegar.

Aegon was so unbelievably happy that he threw a celebration so grand that he was still recovering from the effects of the wine that he’d consumed almost a week later.

Maella was the next babe to be born, she didn’t cry at all. Not even when she was born, she was such a quite little thing, that Aemond often had to put his hand on her to make sure she was breathing.

Even though she was almost six name days older, Vharla had more of a positive opinion of her little sister, she didn't refer to her as drooling stinker which was quite positive.

Now she wasn’t the only girl, and it pleased her immensely.

Rhaegar as the oldest took it in his stride, another member of the family to love and cherish.

As much as he would join his father in his training sessions, he would also spend time with his mother and help take care of the newest babe.

He would spend hours sitting by Maella’s cradle, reading to her, and telling her about Aemon.

When Aemon had died, Rhaegar had only been two name days old, but he remembered his brother so vividly, that it was almost like he was still here.

Caelan of course followed Rhaegar everywhere, idolising his older brother and Aegar just liked to dig around in the gardens looking for bugs.

Which kept both Aemond and Vaera on their toes as more than once he tried to eat them.

Jaerys was the next babe too arrive, born in the middle of one of the worst storms that Kings Landing had ever seen.

Which of course Vaera attributed to his fearsome nature. Even on the day he was born, it always seemed like he had this perpetual scowl on his face that never seemed to go way unless he was with his grandmother.

He definitely had a soft spot for her, and he would often be found sitting beside her as she told him stories and taught him how to braid hair.

Alicent loved all her grandchildren, but she definitely had a soft spot for Jaerys.

Aemond and Vaera had believed Jaerys was their last babe, but after a nightly dragon flight, a ravenous husband and a lapse in memory over taking moontea, Vaera was with child again.

Aegon of course made sure his brother knew that the people of Kings Landing were raising their cups, in celebration of his virility and his wife’s fertility.

Aemond of course had to resist the urge to punch his brother in the face, after he told him.

As with the other births, Aemond naturally assumed this one would go just as well.

How wrong he was.

After Vaera had surprised him and birth another set of twins, she began to bleed heavily.

It began flowing out of her like a river, spilling in every direction.

The Maester’s worked frantically, trying to save her and whilst they were successful, Vaera had slipped into a coma.

For almost thirteen name days, Vaera had been a constant presence in his life, and to suddenly not have her there anymore, he felt lost.

As each day passed and Vaera still didn’t wake up, Aemond could feel himself slowly dying inside.

He was nothing without her. He needed her like he needed the air to breathe.

Aemond knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. He shut himself off and spent hours at Vaera’s bedside praying to any god that was listening.

“Please come back to me my love”.

Yet she remained unmoved, her chest rising up and down slowly. Her eyes firmly shut.

He was afraid that they would never open.

What would he tell their children?

How could he go on living if she didn’t make it?

A world without her didn’t make sense.

For three weeks, Vaera remained unresponsive.

The Maester’s had said that the longer she remained in such a state, she wasn’t likely to wake up.

Aemond despaired at the news.

He was going to lose her. His sweet wife. The love of his life. His twin flame.

At some point in the night, he’d laid on the bed next to her and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

He begged her to come back. But still she slept, at some point he’d fallen asleep, his hand clasping hers.

Every night it was the same dream, and every morning it was the same nightmare.

But this night, something moved against his hand, and he jerked awake.

Aemond stared in shock as Vaera’s fingers were moving.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then Vaera’s eyes began to flutter.

“V-Vaera” exclaimed Aemond.

Is she waking up? That’s it my sweet. Come back to me. You can do it.

“Vaera. Issa dōna ābrazȳrys” gasped Aemond (My sweet wife).

“A-A-Ae-m-mond” stuttered Vaera as she finally opened her eyes.

“I’m here my love. I’m here” whispered Aemond.

After being in a coma for three weeks, it took Vaera some time to fully recover.

She told Aemond about her experience whilst she was in the coma, and it fascinated him to no end.

Especially when she told him that Rhaegar would become King just after his eighteenth name day.

The gods had certainly given Vaera a gift, and she had thanked them for it every day since.

It was a phenomenon that Aemond couldn’t even begin to understand or explain, but they had both decided to keep it between the two of them.

Especially when she told him of Aemon and Helaena.

Despite the circumstances, she had briefly held their precious first born in her arms once more and Aemond knew in his heart that it was his son and sweet sister that had sent Vaera back to him.

Even though Aemond protested wholeheartedly, Vaera resumed her place on the council as Mistress of Laws three moons after she’d woke from her coma.

Saeryna and Daenys were growing fast, and soon they would be reaching their first name day.

It took a little while for Vaera to fully bond with her twin daughters, but they eventually got the hang of it, and now they would crawl after their mother as fast as they could, giggling sweetly.

Aemond watched with a smile as his wife was surrounded by their children, this was everything she’d ever wanted.

During her childhood, she’d been so lonely and Vaera never wanted that for any of their children.

This was a family they’d created and none of their children would suffer as they did.

“Marry me” whispered Aemond.

“We’re already married” replied Vaera.

“In the tradition of our house. Let us bind our blood as our ancestors once did” said Aemond.

“Who’s going to marry us?” asked Vaera.

“I’ve asked Aegon, as anyone who can speak high Valyrian can wed us” said Aemond.

“Ser Criston and my mother will serve as witnesses” said Aemond.

“Where will the ceremony take place?”

“In front of Balerion’s skull. The children will also be in attendance” said Aemond.

“You seem to have given this some thought”.

“I’ve been thinking of it for a while” replied Aemond.

“In that case. I will marry you. Again” said Vaera softly.

“Hen lanoti ānogar, Va sȳndroti vaedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdroma āirza sīr, Izulī amapā perzi, Prumī lanti sēteksi, Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozundesi, Syndroro ono jēdo, Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi”

(Blood of two, Joined as one, Ghostly flame and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers, Forged in fourteen fires, A future promised in glass, The stars stand witness, The vow spoken through time, Of darkness and light)

Aemond and Vaera each took turns in cutting the other’s lip with a dragon glass blade and marking each other’s forehead with the symbols of fire and blood.

Aemond cuts his hand and then offers the blade to Vaera who did the same.

As they face each other once more, both husband and wife join hands allowing their blood to flow into one another.

Once the vows are complete, they allowed their blood to mix with a kiss.

A loud booming roar echoed across the sky as Vhagar and Cannibal flew over the Red Keep, the other dragons soon join in and Kings Landing is alight with sounds of a dragons song, unlike anybody has ever heard before.

As they part, Vaera and Aemond gaze upon one another. All their children surrounding them.

“Will you love me Aemond, until the day I die?” asked Vaera.

“No. Much longer than that Vaera. Much longer” replied Aemond as he took his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her once more.

[who-told-you-this-was-butter]

Where Do We Rest Among Kings and Cups?

WORDS: 1,964

RATING: Mature

TAGS: Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen, WG, chubby kink, belly kink, stuffing, masturbation, degradation, alcoholism, absolutely PATHETIC man, character study, whump(?), mommy issues, stretch marks, belly rubs, a touch of feminization for the real ones in the audience, angst

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Lord, where to begin with this one. It began as a very simple idea for a little stuffing fic featuring everyone's favorite pathetic whore, Aegon ii. Yet somehow, despite my best wishes to keep things light, it was still I who wrote this fic. Therefore, it contains a lot of introspection, projection, and just general depressing tomfoolery. Try to enjoy whatever the hell this is.

Perhaps the path had always led to this port of call for Aegon. It had certainly seemed that way for quite some time, what with his mother's cautioning tone and his brother's judgmental sneer - both exhibited more often at mealtimes than any other hour of the day. A young boy's metabolism is a thing to behold, and the many long hours spent toiling away in the training yard or hoisted upon the back of Sunfyre were certain to keep the Prince lean for his early years.

But as his penchant for Dornish Strongwine grew more ardent, and his brother became a sponge for attention in combat practice, Aegon found himself spending more and more afternoons lying alone in his chambers. One could stumble inside and most commonly find the prince tangled in his linens, an empty goblet within arm's reach, and a look of satisfaction donning his face.

His mother's protests were the strongest and loudest. He knew she did not favor the Targaryen features passed down by his father, try as she might to gainsay the accusation. Her complaints about how frighteningly pale he had become from all the hours spent inside the Red Keep did not elude him, and even through his addled mind, he wondered whether or not she would have loved him more if he were blessed with auburn hair and a stronger lust for green. After some time of this, he allowed himself to take another sip of his wine, flooding those thoughts with a bitter taste and a comforting and familiar burn on his ears. His mother did not love him, he had known that since the first time he had asked her. No locks of flaming red or loss of eye or attachment to crawling things would keep her from seeing him as a ball and chain, and not even a charming one at that.

Aemond was no less cruel, but he was, as Aemond tended to be, cruel in an entirely unique way. He took a liking to tease Aegon, pinching his sides and making sharp-ended jests about how stout his brother was becoming. Despite popular belief, Aegon did have a brain, he knew how he must look to the people. The lazy, layabout prince who preferred to bed women well below his standing out of sheer convenience - the drunkard son of an incompetent king who lived to drink and drank to live.

Drowning in his cups brought a kind of calm resting in the very deep pit of his ribcage, a brand of repose that learned to soothe and slacken until he was nothing more than a puddle of irritating remarks and high-pitched giggles. A boy of one and ten learned to empty bottles faster than grown men well before he knew how to alleviate himself of pain come morning.

All of that had led him here. A young man of barely twenty, seeing his body round out into shapes he had never seen on himself before. It began small, just a little belly he could conceal with a loose shirt. It wasn't as if he were donning ceremonial clothing at the time, Gods forbid his mother to invite him to small council. It spread slowly to his thighs, then his hips. His brother continued to ridicule him in that shrill voice of his, mocking Aegon's "birthing hips" and that he "ought to usurp Rhaenyra's throne as the first Queen of House Targaryen" while gesturing to his softening chest. Aegon tried to bite back, wishing so dreadfully to remark on his brother's string-like figure of ligament and pure spite, but his teeth were dulled through the years of insobriety and lethargy, and he found himself unable to break skin.

Aegon's appetite had also seemingly shifted as of late. He found himself doubling his portions at meals, much to the horror of his mother and the amusement of Aemond. His mother rarely took action, though sometimes he spotted her discreetly swapping his plate for Aemond's. All of this was most likely in the hopes that his corpulent figure would shrink some, and his brother's lanky physique would become something slightly more substantial - what for all the hours he spent in the training yard. Despite her interest, these plights were often fruitless. Aemond found himself unable to finish the second half of his meal that Aegon could easily put away, and Aegon was left ravenous instead of sated.

He found he rather liked being sated. It quelled the shouting in his head even better than the wine had. On nights like those, when his most precious indulgence was taken from his hands, he was reminded of his power. He was the prince, after all, and the eldest at that. He ordered away his guards and made his way to the kitchens, taking whatever food from the pantry he pleased in the wee hours of the morning. His mother would awaken none the wiser, and Aegon found himself able to sleep without the aid of his bedside goblet.

Of course, it created further side effects on his physique. Aegon continued to grow, becoming plumper with each passing day. His belly was low, his hips wide. He carried most of the added weight in his bottom half, excluding his chest, which more resembled tits than anything remotely masculine. Not that Aegon had been particularly masculine, to begin with, but now he appeared more like a fattened bitch than a Targaryen prince. And that was to say nothing of the marks that had begun to appear on his stomach and thighs - little lines of growth that frustrated Aegon to no end. He was fair-skinned as they come, and the marks were deep and red, taking form in long stripes over his belly and down his legs.

His mother had stripes like that on her belly, from long ago when he lay inside it. But now she was lithe and wasp-waisted, and the marks lay as a sign of remembrance for what he had put her through. He wondered if he disliked hers the way he had come to accept his own - if she blamed him for them. A very deep, spiteful part of him wishes that she did. If she were to ever run or forget what she had created, let a part of her remain marked by the body she had hosted, the man she had molded but hadn't truly raised.

Oftentimes he lay awake at night, thumbing the marks on his tummy. It was sore skin, but he found it to be soothing. And if he were to cry, it would not be unusual. Aegon had always shed enough tears for the whole family, Gods knew Aemond could only afford half if he ever wept at all.

And, on other nights, he found himself lying stark awake in his chambers. It was a well-known secret that Helaena and Aegon no longer shared quarters - she slept in a room with the creations that resembled him in such a way that it made him sick, and he shut himself away in his gilded cage with all he could ever ask for and nothing he ever needed. On these nights, he would stockpile food of all kinds on the table next to his bed. Cheeses, meats, fruit, cakes, lest he goes hungry on the dinner he had eaten mere hours before that could easily serve a peasant family of four. Then, slowly - possibly the only thing Aegon ever did methodically - he would work his way through the meal.

By the end of it, Aegon would arrive at one of two conclusions. On the lucky nights, he was left full and satisfied. Overfed comfortably, he would doze off to sleep with his fingers still sticky and his mouth still tasting sweet. Come morning, he would be pinching the added softness to his trunk he could have sworn wasn't there when he entered sleep, wondering if the buttons on his doublet would be able to close around his bloated belly if his presence should be required by his mother. His presence never truly was required, but he liked to entertain the thought. It had yet to fail to send a shock of something to his cock, something he had half a mind to call humiliation but he preferred to call arousal.

The idea of sitting before the council - doughy belly rounded out before him, sitting heavily on his thighs, overfull with wine and decadent food, wondering if, at any second, the buttons were to pop off and just how fat he had become was to be exposed before all of his subordinates - was more than enough to prompt a drunken wank in the early morning. Pathetic, absolutely, but Aegon didn't hold himself to a particularly lofty standard these days. He didn't choose to call for women as often as he used to, let alone leave the Red Keep, so much of his pleasures he had to carry out for himself.

The pleasant nights were gratifying in their own way. But then there were the even luckier nights, when he pushed himself too far, wanting to see just how much he could indulge himself before the pain began to clutch at him. A different kind of pain - not one like the swift crack of his mother's hand on his cheek, or that of a blade grazing his skin. Rather, this pain brought him even more satisfaction than pleasure. A deep, aching pressure in his stomach, only soothed by his frantic hands skittering across the tightest spots in the hopes of soothing the discomfort. 

He would often spend hours like that. Writhing in his sheets, rubbing at his stomach, and letting out obscene moans that likely carried out the open window to the ears of some unfortunate guard on the grounds below. He gripped at all parts of himself, berating himself the way the so fervently desired.

"Swollen pig."

"Overfed princeling, too broad in the beam to fit into his trousers."

"Drunken lard-arse."

Sometimes in whispers, sometimes in euphoric shouts, he would chant to himself the many ways in which he wanted to be unraveled, to be snapped and beaten down. On some occasions, he would hit himself, leaving hand-prints on his rotund stomach and ample thighs while stroking his cock. It was nearly pavlovian - an overfull stomach led to a hard cock, led to the wonderful kind of pain that the ladies of the castle could never quite execute with enough vigor.

His face became fuller, his arms doughier. He was padded all over - soft enough that, should any hapless individual wish to lay with him, they would find it akin to bedding a very large pillow.

He supposed it was to be expected by now. His life had long been defined by indulgence and intoxication. Wine, food, women, all of them in excess. If he were reduced to nothing more than Alicent's disappointment, let him be more than a disappointment. Let him be his mother's agony and torment. Let him live in decadence and immoderation until his dying breath, if only to remind her of all that she had given him and all that she had taken away.

She could confine herself to trim waists and poise as much as she should like. Let Aemond be her golden child, her pride and joy the way a younger Aegon so desperately wanted to be, before realizing he was her first child. He had ruined her, and he would continue to ruin her so long as they both shall live.

The burn of Strongwine traveled down his throat the same way it had thousands of times. It never stung any less, and he never wished it to.

[homielander]

If you don't mind, can I ask why you thought Alicent's writing went downhill after episode 5?

yeah, of course! i talked about it in another post but that was mainly about rhaenyra so i'll elaborate

i think alicent's progression from eps 1-5 was very logical. episode 6 is where the first issues started for me. pre-time jump alicent was very politically astute and generally diplomatic, even to her husband and especially in the presence of other nobles. one of the coolest things about the green dress scene is that she didn't have to say anything outwardly antagonistic (she still greeted viserys and congratulated rhaenyra), but in interrupting the king's speech donning the colour of her house's beacon for war, she was able to signal to everyone where her allegiances lied. but in episode 6 she's openly scoffing and rolling her eyes at the heir to the throne during council meetings, or mouthing off to the king in earshot of his advisors. i would imagine book alicent delivering a line like "soon or late, you met get one who looks like you" to laenor the way we saw natalie dormer's margaery make passive-aggressive comments to cersei ("i wish we had wine, but it's still a bit early in the day for us"). it's easy enough to pass off as genuine to a spectator but the receiving party and the audience pick up on the undertones. to see alicent so openly aggressive after being very cognizant of all the courtesies expected of her for 5 episodes was..... jarring, to say the least.

episode 7 was the best of a bad bunch, i think. for the most part i really liked what we got in terms of alicent. the biggest complaint i have is the "now they see you as you are" line. like i said, alicent has been pretty open about her dislike of rhaenyra for over a decade now, so the moment doesn't actually feel like the epic unmasking that it should be. imagine how cool that scene and line would have been if alicent had actually maintained the facade of a perfect wife and stepmother for about a decade.

episode 8 was... eh :/. i like it if i abide by the interpretation that vaemond's execution really rattled alicent (which it should have done... fear for her children's lives is supposed to be her main motivation) and she did her best to play nice with rhaenyra for the remainder of the episode. but i don't believe that's what the writers intended, which is further reinforced by alicent misunderstanding viserys at the end of the episode.

episode 9 was ssjhksjkshs. i can't even talk about it without fuming. apparently alicent has never imagined herself on the iron throne even though vaemond literally said the words "it's a queen who sits the throne these days" (or something close to that, i'm paraphrasing) referring to her an episode prior (and in the show's timeline, that moment was just a day ago). apparently alicent's primary flaw in this story is not ambition, but serving men... even though she agreed to crown aegon based on the wishes of viserys, and everyone was fine and dandy with her following those wishes when she thought rhaenyra was his desired heir. it's just nonsensical because in this case, the man she is serving is viserys! which is the man whose wishes the opposing side is also fighting to fulfill! because he's the king!!! so how is alicent less "feminist" than the other side??? even in the show's canon, this theme of alicent being an enforcer of the patriarchy falls apart (especially considering she was supposedly totally cool with crowning rhaenyra an episode ago, and because the validity of rhaenyra's claim also rests on words from the mouth of the king). this one dumbass decision took away alicent's agency, alicent's primary motivator which was to fight for her children, the debate of legalism vs absolutism, and any possible thematic coherence lmao i hate that for her

(btw book alicent would be rolling in her grave over these changes lol. apart from letting viserys's dead body rot for days, she also never spoke his name during her addled last days, even though she mentioned king jaehaerys, whom she read to when she was a girl lmaooo. i appreciate they tried to add some nuance to their dynamic in the show but it's infuriating how show alicent's drive now rests on upholding this man's last words considering just how much book alicent seemed to despise him.)

(also, was book alicent an enforcer of the patriarchy if we consider that she defied the wishes of her husband? i mean yes she opposed rhaenyra but allowing rhaenyra's reign actually wouldn't have meant additional freedom for any woman but rhaenyra. much to think about...)

there's also just a difference in mannerisms that's a bit difficult to process. emily played alicent as a nervous wreck who directs all of her anxiety inwards, while olivia plays alicent as pretty openly neurotic. i think i prefer emily's portrayal purely because it actually aligns with the perfectly poised, shrewd, widely-beloved queen from the book (which we reallyyy needed in the second half of the season imo). don't get me wrong, i don't fault olivia, she's one of the most talented actors on this show -- she just needed better direction. it probably would have helped if she and emily could have spoken a bit about the way they were planning to play alicent.

one thing i will say is that the show is doing well with is alicent's relationship with her children (i hate the way they wrote aegon it's not even real to me anymore but i mean apart from that). it makes the greens so fun and fascinating. i don't think they actually meant to do them a favour there, considering the show shies away from any dysfunctionality in rhaenyra's children to paint her in a better light... but the result is that the green family is far more fleshed out and interesting, so you know. a win is a win.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

Ooh ooh more of plumping up king egg!

🌊

I really do have to finish that idea I have, I don't know why it's so hard for me to finish stuff lol.

Anyway, here's something I think about a bunch, it kind of gets away from me at the end but I hope you like it, 🌊anon

CW: canon typical Targaryen sexual practices. Degradation kink. Canon alcohol use.

I still really like the idea of Alicent forcing Aegon to wear a corset to hide how he's been gaining weight. Commissions a court tailor to make them in secret.

Aegon absolutely useless and petulant about getting it on because he complains about how uncomfortable it is, how he feels like a forgotten vessel of dough left to rise until it's burst.

Usually little meek servants get him up, washed and dressed, but one day Alicent tells her second born to get his elder brother out of bed and decent for court and Aemond is more than happy to oblige.

He bursts into the room to see Aegon still passed out despite it nearly being noon, sleeping soundly twisted in the sheets, completely naked, ass bare and rounded in the open air like twin mounds of pudding.

The weight settled upon his brother making him shapely, bottom heavy, curvy and soft in a way that, faced away from him, Aemond could be forgiven for wanting eagerly to bed the plump, womanly figure in front of him. Indeed, the sight was enough to have the Dragonrider stirring in his small clothes.

Taking swift, long strides to Aegon's bed, he grabs and tears the white top linen away to revealing his brother's plush, pink shame. He gives a swift cracking smack to his fat, wobbling arse, earning him a pitiful, almost aroused yelp in return. With a grin, he grabs a fistful of the man's mussed, wavy platinum hair, pulling him up onto his hands and knees, presenting much like a bitch to be mounted.

"Maiden's cunt! How do you end up visibly fatter every time I see you, brother?" Aemond asks cruelly, appraising his sleep and wine addled brother like a feeding hog. With one of his large splayed hands, he hefts and wobbles the blubbery pot of Aegon's gut, testing its weight, feeling the man reflexively trying to suck in. His younger brother scoffs incredulously, giving him a none-too-soft pat to the diaphragm, forcing him to relax those buried muscles and letting the fat round out below him.

"You beast! Unhand me!" Aegon weakly protests, face screwed up as he flaps a dough-soft arm to a side table to scrabble for his goblet.

Almond's patience starts to wear thin.

"For fuck's sake. Allow me," he says as he fills his brother's goblet and pulls him up by the hair to his knees. "It would be a shame if you appeared sober at court for once. Can't have that," he said forcing the overfull cup of Dornish strongwine down his gullet.

Aegon splutters at first before overtaking his brother's pace on his own, throat bobbing as he gulped it down greedily, red rivulets dripping from the corners of his mouth, onto his perky tits and between his cleavage. He pants, grinning dopily, as the chalice was pulled away from his lips, clearly satisfied. His pink tongue poked out licking away the final drops from his ruddy stained lips.

Aemond takes his brother in again. He looks absolutely debauched, eyes glassy, hair a mess, chest heaving, and there, nestled between plush thighs in a soft mound of fat, below his quivering belly, Aegon's unimpressive, fat little cock stood to attention. It twitches when Aemond, roughly handles one of his breasts, tweaking and teasing the nipple. "If these teats grow any larger, I suspect I should be able to sheath my sword between them. Do you suppose that if I suckled hard enough, you might produce milk?"

Aemond can see the effect he's having on his brother, the prince. A miserable, pitiful, ungrateful excuse for a future Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, aroused, panting, gagging to be used, hungry for more abuse. Suddenly annoyed, the younger brother roughly lets go of Aegon's hair, allowing him to crumple back onto the mattress with a whine. He rifles through his brother's wardrobe, certain there was no way half of the items would fit the man they were meant to, before coming upon the piece he was searching for.

"Come now. Enough of your indolence, Mother demands I cinch you into this ridiculous garment and make you presentable for court." This earns him a groan in response.

It takes some manhandling but eventually Aegon ends up in the loosened corset and sitting heavily in Aemond's lap. The latter is of two minds, embarrassed of and for his brother, and yet his own impressive manhood strains against his trousers wanting desperately to be buried between those full, jiggly cheeks.

With a deft movement, Aemond flips their positions, pinning Aegon over the edge of the bed, in such a position that, if he just took a moment to tug down his trousers, he could bury his aching hardness to the hilt in his brother's greedy cunt.

He takes hold of the corset laces and tugs hard, hearing Aegon gasp in pain. The sound eggs Aemond to continue, cinching row after row of laces, tighter and tighter, until Aegon was a whimpering groaning mess below him. He leaned down to whisper in the man's ear, pinning him underneath him, and teasingly rolling his hips to grind his clothed cock against his brother.

"If you want me to fuck you like the fat little whore you are. You're going to do everything in your power to burst these stays and put an end to this farce once and for all. The court and small folk deserve to see what pig their princeling has eaten himself into. And I'll make sure you never forget it, and love every second of it."

[empressofmankind]

Old Gods Wedding & Bedding

I could have probably done something productive with one of my last mornings of this decade, but instead I made myself a fancy coffee and wrote excessively self-indulgent Stupid(TM). Why? Because I wanted to, because I found out Gerion Lannister wasn’t damn missing yet, and for the first time in the past half damn year, I had time to waste.

So, sit back, zip your mind to the year of Aegon’s Conquest 289: the Greyjoy Rebellion has been quelled less than half a year ago. We’re in Lannisport for Lord Tywin & Lady Loren’s second wedding this month. The first had been a formal, excessively proper and ostentatious affair at King’s Landing, as befits a Great House. The second, in the sight of older gods, is a whole other affair.

Rates NSFW on thematics and the fact that there’s a bunch of drunk lions and one very brave stag, giving their brother(-in-law) quality bedding advice.

WESTERLANDS, LANNISPORT, ca 289 AC

"Your mare's in heat, brother! Mount her like a stallion!" Gerion's raucous call came ahead of him as he carried Loren through into the bedroom. The women had already abandoned Tywin there, no doubt shooed with a glare. Though not before they'd managed to undress him, too.

"Ger, stop, put me down!" Loren called, her tone pitching and falling with amusement and the touch of wine. She struggled and kicked her legs, trying to get free, and Gerion struggled in turn not to drop the squirming woman. It was made harder by having to force his drink addled mind to coordinate his hold in such a way that hands didn't accidentally go places that would give his older brother offence. He wasn't near drunk enough to not care about finding out whether he'd be allowed to keep them.

Her brothers Damon and Lord Brokken, his own brothers Ser Tygett and Ser Kevan, and even their brother-in-law King Robert, followed in his wake with equally sound advice as to what Tywin ought to be doing. Granted, the red of embarrassment was steadily creeping further and further up Kevan's face at the increasingly bawdy suggestions. Ser Emmon appeared to have made himself scarce, which was just as well, as nobody wanted him here.

"It's been nice knowing you, my Liege." Brokken put a companionable arm around Tywin's shoulders, squeezing the older man against him. Tywin underwent the breach in formality by the tall Lord of Lannisport with stoic resignation. "She's going to destroy you. T'is the bear blood, nothing to do about it but survive."

"You know that rather well, of your sister." It was never clear when Tygett made a jest, as it happened so very rarely. However, everyone else, Brokken included, had too much to drink to think too hard on whether it was a slight or not.

Robert snorted with barely contained laughter and shook a finger at Brokken. "We'll know when the little lions come out dark of mane, Ser."

"That's rich, coming from the man with half a dozen blightingly obvious bastards," Brokken responded, not without humour.

"If he had a sister, he'd have 'em with her too," Damon jested. Kevan was starting to look more and more uncomfortable.

"If I had a pretty sister." Robert chortled as he elbowed Kevan, who managed to turn a shade darker red yet. “Where did Genna dance off to?”

Tygett’s tone was sceptic. “She’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“I am all for it!” Robert laughed.

"One bride, undressed as promised," Gerion said as he put Loren down and nudged her towards his older brother. She needn't be told twice, but it'd seem his brother needed some motivation as he just stood there with the woman around his neck. Gerion wondered if he'd try and glare them all out the door before he would so much as touch her fair cheek.

"What are you waiting for? Those fields won't sow themselves!" Robert guffawed as he and Brokken proceeded to manhandle the two towards their bed. Loren was already on it, dragging Tywin on top of her by his neck. She spread her legs as he settled, briefly giving everyone present an eyeful before it was obscured by the much less welcomed sight of their brother's ass.

Loren moaned Tywin's name as his cock slid all the way inside her. They had consummated their marriage months ago already but that didn't make the bedding any less anticipated.There'd been the long damn vigil and bawdy conversation and feast and drink, and her need had peaked when all the men that were brothers to her had seen her to her newly minted husband. She whined as she clenched her thighs against his hips, pleading for his cock. Much to the other men their bawdy cheers.

"We should leave." Kevan’s cheeks had become well and truly red now, his gaze dodging away from straying anywhere near his brother and his wife. To his relief, Brokken and Tygett nodded in agreement.

"Give that slick gold vein a good mining from me, eh?" Robert snorted as Brokken put a muscled arm around his neck and dragged the King with.

"C'mon stag, we should find your darling wife before she lines us all up for your headsman's kiss."

"Gerion?" Kevan said, seeing their youngest brother linger.

"Yes, ser, I am gone already!" The laughing lion replied as he bounded towards the door. The other men bustled out after him, Brokken unceremoniously dragging their drunk King along. Right before Gerion closed the door, he leaned back in, a grin plastered on his face. "Don't forget to worship the fields you depend on, big brother! A little kiss in time does wonders to make em flower!"

The only answer was the heavy thud of an embroidered pillow where his head had been as he swiftly closed the door.

Damon suppressed a chortle. "That was pretty fun, we should have another wedding."

Brokken smirked at his baby brother. "Yes, yours, I do think?"

The look of sudden fright on their younger cousin's face drew laughter from the other men.

Robert gave the young man a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Marriage isn't so bad, really."

Damon snorted. "Do you even see your wife?"

Robert's expression spoke volumes. He didn't say it, though. Evidently not quite drunk enough to forget the men surrounding him were all direct relatives of Queen Cersei.

"I wonder how long it'll take him to get her with child?" Robert chuckled, breaking the silence before it became truly awkward. "Though by the sound of it, he has a plan."

"My brother already put a whelp in her belly." There was no mistaking the disapproval in Tygett's tone this time.

"Ha! I knew it, the old lion got himself that sweet cunny right after the siege," Robert guffawed. "Ned all but handed her to him on a silver platter. Damn, I can’t wait to tell him. Oh, his long face will get longer yet!"

"That's why Ty's been so chuffed, she told him the other day." Amusement squinted Gerion's green eyes. "He already knows his seed takes to those pretty fields."

"Brothers, please." Kevan sighed.

Gerion gave his brother a friendly shove. "He can't hear us, Kevan. Not with his sweet lady wife moaning in his ear."

Kevan gave him a quelling look that Gerion was more accustomed to from their older brother and it spelled out in no uncertain terms: 'but I can'.