#aemond is a drama queen and i love him

[greeksorceress]

lucerys is trying his best to pretend that aemond is not participating in the tournament, refusing to look at anything but at his own shoes. it works for a while. ultimately, curiosity gets the best of him when he spies aemond trotting to their royal balcony from the corner of his eye. 

he raises his head and promptly realises he has made a mistake. 

aemond is already looking up at him. 

mounted on his dark stallion, all pale hair and black armour with the traditional three headed dragon emblem forged on the left side of his breastplate, he looks every bit of the targaryen prince he is and nothing like a treacherous hightower. 

lucerys visibly swallows, and it makes aemond smirk.

fuck, he looks regal. 

aemond beckons him with a finger.

jacaerys, who’s sitting right next to lucerys, scowls. 

lucerys ignores him and stalks towards the border of the balcony. he’s about to demand aemond to explain himself when the older raises his sword and holds it so close to lucerys’ face that he can feel the coldness of the steel against his cheek.

lucerys’ breath hitches. he’s panicking, and he knows it’s showing, because aemond dares to widen his grin as if he was proud of causing lucerys such distress. he probably is, the bastard. 

he doesn’t cut lucerys, though.

“would you kiss my blade, my lord strong?”

lucerys can’t even get mat at the dig, he’s too busy gaping like a fish. he adverts his gaze towards the sword and then dumbly looks back at aemond,“what...?”

“kiss it, lucerys. so the odds might be in my favour, but also in my fallen adversaries’ too”

“i don’t understand... if they fall before you, how does it make them lucky?”

the way aemond eye darkens at him sears his insides. 

“wouldn’t it be a thing of grace, my lord, if the last thing they feel before eternal rest is your kiss on their skin?”

lucerys’ heart is beating so loudly that it deafens him. 

aemond is exaggerating, he reasons. this is nothing but a joust tournament in honor of jacaerys’ eighteenth birthday. the purpose of all of this is not slaying, it’s just entertainment. 

still, he bends over the border and kisses aemond’s sword. he’s crouching down so much to reach the closest spot to the handle and aemond’s glove that he doesn’t have time to react before aemond’s free hand is on his chin.

aemond’s hold is firm but gentle, and it keeps lucerys’ lower lip trapped under his thumb. 

lucerys has the urge to close his lips around aemond’s finger. he feels his mother and alicent’s stares burning at the back of his head. he bites his own tongue. 

“would you kiss me, too? as a sweet goodbye, just in case i perish in the bout”

come back to me in one piece and i will give you more than a kiss, he wants to say. instead, lucerys replies, “don’t be silly, aemond!”

he leans in, anyways.

“that is enough” daemon cuts in. he’s using his voice, but he might as well have unsheathed dark sister, for lucerys and aemond pull apart immediately. 

[princessbellecerise]

You Kiss Their Scars

Summary ✩ How your lover reacts to you kissing their scars

Warnings ✩ Mentions of violence and blood

Jacaerys Velaryon

You were amused as your lips pressed against the teeth shaped scars, in the shape of tiny little bite marks that Jace explained were from Vermax

“He used to bite me plenty when we shared a crib,” Your husband told you. “He was a nasty little thing. Mother was afraid he’d take a chunk out of my arm—but he never did. He stopped doing it when I bit him back,” He revealed

You giggled as you imagined baby Jace and baby Vermax—both the same size at one point—going at it while Rhaenyra tried to separate them. “So I suppose you’ve both always been temperamental then,” You said

It was no surprise that your husband, who also had quite the temper, related so much to his dragon. The two were one of the same, and you guessed that’s why they got along so well

“Yes,” Jacaerys agreed, a fond smile on his face as he recalled the memories. “We were quite a menacing pair indeed.”

Aegon Targaryen

“She did it again,” Is the only thing Aegon had to tell you in order for you to pull him into your arms, kissing the spot where a nasty red bruise was forming

It was no secret that your husband and his mother did not get along, but never did you think that she would have the audacity to strike him after an argument

It was appalling to you every time it happened, and you wanted nothing more than to march towards her and give the same treatment, Queen be damned

It wasn’t fair that she took out her anger out on Aegon but he begged you, no pleaded with you to not do anything

“It won’t do any good,” He’d tell you sadly, and your heart would ache as you saw the brokenness, the sadness on his face. “She’ll just hate me even more if you act.”

Aemond Targaryen

“Hold still.”

You jutted your tounge out in concentration as you cleaned Aemond’s scar, making sure that it was sanitized properly for the day

Your husband trusting you with such a thing was an act of love itself. The fact that he trusted you to see his deepest insecurity meant alot to you, and all you could do to repay him and hopefully bring up his spirits was pepper light kisses on the skin surrounding it

“There, all done.”

“Thank you, my love,” Aemond smiled slightly as he touched the spots were your lips touched, still wondering how he got so lucky as to find someone like you

Cregan Stark

“Ow! Be gentle, woman,” Cregan said playfully, wincing as you brushed over his ‘scar’ with a wet cloth

Somehow, for some reason, your dear husband thought it would be funny to wrestle with his dire wolf and then he had the nerve to come crawling to you, asking you to patch up his wounds after the beast had bitten him

Of course, it wasn’t really that big of a deal and Cregan wasn’t really hurt, but you still smirked as you pressed a kiss to it like it was a real wound

“There. That should ease some of the pain, you big baby,” You teased, rolling your eyes

Cregan chuckled as he checked your work, looking at the bandage you had placed over some ointment

“What do you suppose it’ll look like when it heals?” He asked you seriously

“It’ll look like you simply have a freckle, Creagn,” You responded sarcastically, and then you giggled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap

“Don’t make fun me, wife. You should be proud,” He said, flexing the arm where the bite was. “How many men do you know have taken on such a beast and lived to tell the tale?”

“Only you, husband. Only you.” You snorted at his dramatics, wondering just what you were going to do with your silly, drama queen of a husband

Benjicot Blackwood

There was reason they called your husband ‘Bloody Ben’

You found this out when one day, he came limping home after solving a conflict in the Riverlands, covered in wounds and blood—so much blood

Thankfully, most of it wasn’t his but Benji still did have a few wounds that needed looking after

The Maester was busy, having been sent by your husband to tend to the other men, so you got the pleasure of dragging him to your chambers, making sure that he was clean before you began to stitch him up

The entire time you worked, Benji barely even flinched which amazed you

By the time that you were done with his top half, he’d barely said a word or complained which led to you kissing over a few of his stitches as a reward

“What was that for?” He asked in wonder, a small blush on his cheeks while you grinned

“That, my love, is for being such a good patient,” You told him cheekily, and you did not expect what Benji did next

Standing up, he loosened his trousers and then he grinned as he pointed at the area beneath his small clothes

“Well in that case, I’ll need plenty of kisses here, too. No promises that I won’t move if you touch me there though.”

“Benji!”

[lannister-rose]

Duty Ends Where Love Starts - Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sweethearts since childhood, you and Aegon were always meant to be together, but when duty, love, and political rivalry all clash together, you both find yourselves in loveless marriages with other people. After an argument breaks out between your husband, Aemond, and his brother you seek to help mend the issue. When you find yourself in Aegon's chambers alone with only him, suppressed emotions bubble their way to the surface.

Warnings: Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, Slight Aemond x Reader (One Sided), Infidelity, Heavy emphasis on infidelity, Targcest (Uncle and Niece), Arranged marriages, Smut, P in V sex, Creampie, Mentions of pregnancy, use of Moon Tea, Minors Do Not Interact (MDNI)

Word Count: 2.9k

You were three and ten when Aegon kissed you for the first time in the library of the Red Keep while you were both supposed to be studying. It was your first kiss, and his, too; neither of you knowing what to do as your lips met each other's. It was clumsy and awkward, lasting only a few seconds, but it felt like a bliss-filled eternity before you pulled away, your cheeks burning as a deep shade of bright red covered them, you stuttering as you failed to find the right words to tell the boy who you had fallen for.

After that day you begged your mother, Rhaenyra, to speak with your Grandsire about having you wed to Aegon when you both came of age, telling her that you'd never have another take your hand in marriage. Your mother honored your request, but it was Aegon's mother, the Queen Consort Alicent Hightower, who refused to betroth her eldest to you.

When the time came, you found yourself Aemond Targaryen's wife, a marriage that would prove itself to be far from fulfilling. Aemond loved you, as he claimed, but the feelings were far from reciprocated, even as you spent more time with him over the years. He wasn't Aegon. Still, duty always called to those who held it, and you were his wife by law.

"Where is Aegon?" Your Grandsire, Viserys, questioned one night over supper, looking around the table for his son. "Do any of you know where he is?" He asked again, looking to the fellow members of your family for any insight. You had to admit, you were curious, too. It wasn't like him to miss supper, especially not when his favorite wine was being served.

"He and I had an argument," Your husband answered from beside you, the traces of a smug smirk on his face as he glanced over at you. "He had some choice words regarding my Lady Wife and I, and I made sure to put him in his place." You raised a brow at the information, unable to feign disinterest any longer. "My elder brother is likely sulking in his room right now as any child would." You watched as Alicent shot him a look, a warning to her son not to bring further drama to the already tense table.

"You two have been at each other's throats since we were children, Aemond." You stated plainly, standing up from your seat. "I do not wish to hear of your bickering with him, not at supper." You moved, heading towards the room's entrance. "I've lost my appetite, please excuse me."

You left, moving through the halls and towards Aegon's chambers. It had been your job since you were young to be your uncles' mediator, helping mend, or at least calm them both after their arguments. This one would be no different. You didn't bother knocking on the door once you were at his room, quickly dismissing the guards before stepping in.

He sat at his desk, staring down into a cup of wine with a mix of irritation and what looked to be a hint of hurt on his face as he swirled the dark liquid around in its cup. His deep purple eyes turned upwards to look at you briefly as you entered before returning down, the prince not bothering to react much to your sudden intrusion into his chambers.

"Has anyone ever taught you it's rude to barge into someone else's chambers without knocking first, Lady Velaryon?" He asked, the statement more of a playful jab than a question, even despite his slightly annoyed tone of voice.

"You and Aemond fought, and I hear it involved me, Uncle." You said, skipping straight to the point as you grabbed a spare chair from elsewhere in the room and pulled it up to the desk, sitting next to Aegon. "My husband said you had some 'choice words' regarding him and myself, may I ask what you said?"

Aegon set his cup down, finally looking at you fully. "I was drunk and said some things I should not have said; that is all that happened between him and me." He confessed, and you knew he was only speaking half of the truth, the half you already knew.

"Really? Is that all? Then why have you isolated yourself to your room then?" You pried, determined to get to the bottom of the issue. "What did you say, Aegon?"

Your uncle looked away, refusing to meet your gaze and you two fell into silence for a long moment, the prince trying to decide what he would say. "Do you ever know what our lives would be like if we had been wed to each other? If all the pleading we had done hadn't fallen on the deaf ears of our mothers?" He turned his head back up, looking at you with eyes swirling deep with conflicted emotion.

"Of course I do, Aegon." You answered simply, taking a deep breath. "But fate had other plans for us all, and we must adapt to it. Duty is scarcely something we desire." You felt your heart ache at your admission, the cruel reality of your situation sinking in once more after you'd spent years trying to bury how it made you feel.

"What do you desire?" He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before he continued. "Are you happy with Aemond? Do you want to be with him? Has your heart begun to yearn for my brother after all these years with him?" Aegon awaited your answer, every second of your silence felt like a lifetime.

"It does not matter what I desire," You finally spoke, removing your hand from his. "I must fulfill my duty as—"

"Fuck duty." He interrupted, tone laced with bitterness. "I asked what you wanted, not what you must." He grabbed his wine, taking a long drink of it before speaking again. "I told Aemond that he didn't deserve you. That's why we argued, sweetling." The last word, filled with hate as it left his lips, felt like a sharp dagger to the chest. "My brother doesn't love you as I do, doesn't understand how much it infuriates me to hear the talk of him neglecting you while claiming to cherish you, his darling wife." Aegon's grip on his cup tightened, fingers digging into the metal.

You stood from your seat, making your way towards the door. "I think you're drunk again, Aegon. I'll see you once you've sobered up and stopped talking nonsense." Before you could leave he stood up quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back, flipping you around to face him. Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, and your mouth opened to scold him for what he just did.

Before you could take the chance to speak, he kissed you, lips moving with fervor against yours as he poured every emotion he ever felt for you into it. You hesitated before kissing back, melting into his touch as you relaxed, your hands resting on his shoulders as he pulled you closer, arms wrapping around your waist. It was wrong, you knew it, but emotion overpowered logic as you gave into him, tasting the fruity, almost sweet taste of wine on his lips as he kissed you.

"Aegon," You breathed out once you separated, your heart racing in your chest as you stared into his Indigo eyes filled with love and affection only he had ever shown you. You hadn't kissed him since before his wedding to Helaena so many years ago, and doing it once more after so long brought every feeling you had suppressed for him back to the surface.

"I need you to know that I'm not drunk when I say this." He paused, tenderly cupping your face in his hands. "I love you. With every part of my being. I swear it by the Gods." He leaned in further, your lips nearly touching again. "You may be Aemond's by law, but you are mine. We both know it, and we've gone too long denying it. What's stopping us from loving one another behind closed doors? What the rest of our family doesn't know will bring no harm."

You took a shaky breath at the proposition. It was a risky one should you follow through with it, but the risk made it all the more exciting to think about. Being able to be with the one you loved after so long would be worth the sneaking around, the guilt, and the shame.

"I'd kill for you, man or woman. I'd burn our house to the ground, burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash if it meant I'd be with you at the end of it all." His lips pressed against yours once more in another passion-filled kiss. You wanted him, needed him. No man had touched you in so long, not your husband, and not Aegon; you craved more of it, hungered for it like a starved animal staring at its first meal in ages.

You kissed him back with equal desire, moaning against his lips as you led him towards his bed, carefully pushing him down onto the mattress below. You straddled him, pressing up against the growing budget in his breeches as he held your hips, looking up at you with uncertainty, a rare state to see the prince in when with women.

"What's wrong, Aegon? You've bedded many women before. Don't tell me you've grown scared of them now." You teased, hands running over the expensive fabric of his dark forest green tunic.

"I've bedded whores, not the noble lady who I've loved since childhood." He corrected, letting you slip off his shirt and throw it to the stone ground below, leaving his chest bare and free for you to see and drink in the sight of. "Is it so wrong of me to wish to please you properly?"

You chuckled lightly at his words. "You're already doing better than Aemond by spending this time with me. My husband rarely has me in such a position." It was Aegon's turn to chuckle, slipping your gown off your shoulders as he did so. He watched your breasts spill out of your dress, cock hardening even further at the beautiful sight

"Gods, your beauty is unmatched." His hand found your soft breast, kneading it as you moaned lewdly, the sound like music to his ears. "Do you know how long I've yearned to hear those sounds come from you? How many nights I had spent wishing you were the one with me instead of some whore?" He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your chest, savoring each and every noise that escaped you.

You helped him remove your gown fully, leaving your fully nude figure on full display to your lover. He drank in the sight, the look of you being more fulfilling and delicious than any other person or thing he had ever experienced. You weren't from a brothel, nor were you Helaena or any other woman who had ever been with. You were his first and only love, and here you were in front of him, letting him do to you what he had always desired.

"You're staring, Aegon." You observed, your voice low and sultry, utterly intoxicating.

"What man wouldn't when faced with such a pretty thing?" His hands roamed your body as he smirked.

You pulled off his breeches, letting his cock spring out, the tip already leaking small translucent pearls of precum from the excitement of it all. You bit your lip as you realized how big he was. You'd struggle to take him. You stroked him slowly, bringing your hand up and down his thick length. Aegon watched through half-lidded violet eyes as you touched him, a groan of your name leaving his lips. Then you placed his cock, hard and ready, at your entrance, sinking down onto it, struggling to hold back a loud moan as you did so.

"I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you." Aegon's hands grabbed at your hips as you began to bring yourself up and down, riding his cock. You felt like no other woman he had ever been with; to him, you were perfection. For the first time in his life he was overwhelmed by sex, the emotions he held for you combined with the feeling of the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around him combined in a way that had his head blissfully empty except for the thought of you.

"Kiss me." The words sounded more desperate than he intended, but that's what he was: desperate. The prince had never been one to kiss when he did these things, but he had gone years without you, and he'd be damned if he didn't take all you had to offer, savoring it as he did.

You listened to him, leaning down, your body pressing up against his as your lips moved together sloppily. Aegon gripped your hips tighter, beginning to thrust his own upwards, driving his cock deep into you. You whimpered against his lips, trying to meet his movements with yours to get more of him.

"You're going to make me cum." Aegon announced through his groans, unable to last long with how well you were taking him. "I'm going to fill you up, little dove. You want that, don't you? I'll make you mine." You let out a mix between a moan and a whine as his thrusts up into you grew rougher, the sounds of your shared pleasure filling the otherwise quiet room. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, mouth wide open as you failed to do much else other than let him fuck you.

"Fuck! Aegon!" You managed to get out as the tip of his cock grazed your sweet spot, pushing you closer to your impending climax. All it took was one more touch of that same spot, more head-on this time, for you to cum around him, your cunt fluttering with the force of your orgasm. He followed soon after, losing his rhythm before his hips stilled, warm cum coating your insides and spilling out down your thighs.

You slumped over, breathing heavily as you lay next to him, placing your head on his chest as your post-orgasmic haze set it. His fingers combed through your hair, deep violet eyes closing as his lips curled up into a satisfied smile; the silver-haired man being pleasantly exhausted.

"I love you." You spoke softly, breaking the silence. "They say love is where duty ends, Aegon." The prince tucked a stray lock of your hair behind your ear before caressing your cheek.

"That's because love feels a lot better, sweetling. We all indulge despite what's expected of us. Tonight we chose to indulge in each other," he leaned in, a sweet kiss soon finding its way to you. "It's wrong, isn't it? What we've done here. I don't care how wrong things may be, not when you're next to me, warming my bed." He moved on top of you, being to press chaste, loving kisses to your neck. You smiled tiredly, wrapping your arms around him, enjoying the warmth he radiated.

No one would keep you from him, not after tonight. You'd both have to return to your spouses eventually when duty overpowered love, but for now, you were each other's.

When what was expected of you did make its call you separated from Aegon, bathing away the remnants of your night together before leaving his chambers, thankful that the servants who fetched the water didn't pry further. Later on, you found yourself in the library, pretending to read a book while you reminisced about that first kiss with Aegon that started it all between you and him. The sound of shoes stepping against the hard floor drew you out of your thoughts, and you looked up toward the source, finding it to be your mother.

"We need to talk," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice, making her way to you quickly, a small cup held carefully in her hands. She sat beside you, handing you the cup. You took it, a confused look on your face.

"What's this?" You asked, looking down at the currently unidentified liquid that smelled of tansy and sweet honey.

"I don't know what you've done, what risks you've already taken, but rumors have spread of your infidelity." Your mother explained. "I do not wish to interrogate you, but I have a feeling I already know who it is whom you've spent your time with, and knowing who he is, I know these words are likely more than just gossip spread by those wishing to sully your name."

Your heart sunk at her words, and it was then that you knew what she had handed you. It was moon tea, that's why it smelled of tansy. "Mother, I'm—" She stopped you, placing her hands onto yours, comforting you.

"I know what it's like to choose love over all else, and the dangers which come. You mentioned in passing a few days ago how Aemond hadn't touched you in a long while. He's no fool. He'll know if you fall pregnant that the child isn't his, and I fear what he may do once that realization comes.

You took a deep breath, bringing the cup up to your lips and taking a sip, the taste both bitter and sweet as it reached your tongue. Your mother understood like no other could.

"It is just a precaution, sweet girl. I trust you to be cautious from now on. Duty ends where love starts." She stood up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You needed your mother in this moment, and here she was. She was right. Duty ends where love starts. That phrase would become your mantra.

[kckt88]

ñuhon naejot gūrogon.

Summary:

In the aftermath of Rooks Rest, a King's life hangs in the balance and Aemond reveals his true intentions.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Langauage, Disagreements, Vulnerability, Confessions, Brother/Sister Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Loss of Virginity, P in V, Breeding Kink.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C SISTER.

A.N - ñuhon naejot gūrogon - Mine to take.

Word Count: 4645

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.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Daena sat quietly at the bedside of her older brother Aegon. The room was dimly lit by the flickering flames of several candles, casting long shadows on the stone walls.

The scent of burning incense filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the faint, pungent odour of burnt flesh.

Aegon lay on the grand canopy bed, his body broken and battered from the battle of Rook’s Rest. His once-proud form was now a fragile shell, swathed in bandages and ointments.

Most of the skin on the left side of his body was severely burned, a patchwork of raw, angry red and blistering black. His breaths came shallow and ragged, each exhalation a reminder of his tenuous grip on life.

The maesters had worked tirelessly since his return, their faces etched with exhaustion and worry.

They had done all they could, setting his broken bones and applying salves to his burns, finally dosing him heavily with milk of the poppy to numb the pain.

Now, all they could do was wait and pray.

Daena reached out and gently took her brother’s hand in hers. His skin was clammy and cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from his wounds. She squeezed his hand lightly, her heart aching with a mixture of love and sorrow.

Aegon was far from perfect; he had made many mistakes, and committed many sins, but he was still her brother, and she loved him.

Her violet eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she watched him, hoping he could sense her presence, feel her unwavering support. The once-vibrant King now lay vulnerable and fragile, and Daena’s heart ached for him.

“I’m here, Aegon. Please, hold on.”

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Daena glanced up to see her other brother, Aemond, enter the room. His tall figure was framed by the dim light from the corridor, casting a long shadow into the room.

He walked silently to the foot of Aegon’s bed and placed his hands on the wooden frame, his one eye, sharp and calculating, observing the scene before him.

Daena remained seated, her hand still holding Aegon’s, her gaze never leaving their wounded brother. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words and long-held grudges.

After a few minutes, Aemond finally broke the silence.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Daena’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Let me guess, that will be you.”

Aemond’s expression remained impassive. “That will be for the council to decide on who will take on the duties of ruling the realm.”

Daena scoffed, her eyes flashing with defiance. “There is no one else but you. Even though Helaena is Queen, we cannot have a woman rule lest we be labelled as hypocrites, as we can’t forget the reason why Aegon was crowned instead of our older sister”

Aemond’s gaze remained steady, but there was a flicker of something—irritation, perhaps—behind his eye. Daena continued; her voice sharp with accusation.

"So, whose idea was it to parade the severed head of Meleys through the streets of King's Landing?"

"It was Ser Criston Cole’s idea," Aemond replied, a note of defensiveness in his tone.

"And you allowed it," Daena said, her eyes blazing with anger. "How could you let the symbol of our house be desecrated in such an appalling manner? Not even Maegor the Cruel would have resorted to such measures."

"It was to show strength" Aemond argued, his voice rising slightly.

Daena laughed bitterly. "-I very much doubt it. The only thing you’ve done is sow the seeds of rebellion amongst the smallfolk- that the power of the dragons isn't infinite"

Aemond's face grew taut, a mixture of frustration and anger. "It was necessary”

"For whom exactly-” Daena countered. "Rooks Rest cannot be counted as a victory. Sunfyre is gravely injured, and Aegon may never recover-how do you know that our sister will not have her dragons descend upon us”

“We have dragons too” replied Aemond.

“As I said, Sunfyre is injured-so he’s out, and I don’t exactly foresee Helaena riding into battle on the back of Dreamfyre-all we have is Vhagar and Silverwing”

“Tessarion?”

“A fledgling dragon with no battle experience and a rider who’s been sheltered at Oldtown for so long that he practically doesn’t exist”

“Daera-” sighed Aemond.

“It’s all worked out rather nicely for you, hasn’t it? Now that Aegon is incapable of ruling, you’re ever closer to getting what you want.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “What exactly are you implying?”

Daena finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a cold, hard stare. “You know exactly what I’m implying,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

She pressed a kiss to Aegon’s hand, her touch gentle and full of sorrow. Then she rose from her seat, her gown rustling softly in the silence.

As she moved to leave the room, Aemond followed her, his steps echoing hers. The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, leaving the room in silence once more, the only sound the faint, laboured breathing of the broken king.

Daena strode into her chambers, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and sorrow. Aemond followed closely behind, shutting the door with a decisive click and turning the key to lock it.

The sound echoed ominously in the room, filled with the faint scent of lavender and the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window.

Daena whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing with accusation. “Did you do it?” she demanded, her voice low and fierce. “Were you the one who attacked Aegon?”

Aemond’s face contorted with a mix of hurt and anger. “How could you ask me that?”

Daena’s gaze remained unyielding. “I’m not a fool, Aemond. I know you’ve always believed Aegon was unfit to rule. That he’s a wastrel who’s never taken any interest in his birthright. Meanwhile, you, ever the good soldier, has spent hours training with the sword, studying history and philosophy. Aegon has had everything handed to him while you, the second son, have received nothing.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his eye flashing with barely contained fury. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be teased for being different? To be a Targaryen without a dragon?”

Daena’s expression softened slightly but remained firm. “I was once without a dragon too and it was only because of Aegon that I managed to claim Silverwing. Do you not remember how furious Mother had been when she found out?”

Daena’s mind going back to that day, oh how wonderful it had been. Aegon had taken her flying on Sunfyre, and they had snuck onto Dragonstone, their older sister left unaware as the two of them entered the dragon mount.

Aegon had been so proud of her when she claimed Silverwing, their mother-not so much. She had slapped Aegon to within an inch of his life, shouting and screaming about how he had been so reckless.

Their father had been indifferent to the whole situation, his wheezing breath may have whispered proud sentiments, but his heart and his mind were never present, not for them anyway. That was exclusively reserved for his precious Rhaenyra.

Aemond’s lips twisted into a mocking smile, and he began to clap slowly, the sound filled with derision. “Well done, sister. You were one of the lucky few to escape Aegon’s teasing japes and drunken slobbering.”

Daena’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer to Aemond, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think you’re so much better than him, don’t you? You think you deserve the throne more than he does. Tell me dear brother, why do you deserve it?”

Aemond’s face hardened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, the air thick with the weight of their unspoken grievances.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and measured. “I am what this realm needs, Daena. A ruler who is strong, who is capable. Aegon has shown time and again that he is not fit for the crown.”

Daena shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “And what makes you think you’re worthy? Because you can swing a sword, recite ancient texts and ride the largest dragon in the world? There’s more to ruling than that, Aemond. There’s compassion, wisdom, and the ability to see beyond one’s own ambition.”

As Aemond turned to leave the room, Daena’s voice cut through the silence, stopping him in his tracks.

“Do you ever feel guilty?”

Aemond froze, his hand still on the door handle. He turned slowly to face her, his expression guarded. “What?”

Daena took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion. “For killing Luke. For what happened to Jaehaerys. You were responsible for it. Your actions led to the death of an innocent child. How can you even dare to look Helaena in the face, knowing that it's your fault? That you’re the reason she lost her son, why Aegon lost his son?”

Aemond’s face contorted with rage as Daena’s words hit him like a blow. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eye burned with a fierce intensity.

“Do you know they came here for you that night?” Daena continued, her voice steady despite the tempest brewing in the room. “But they couldn’t find you, so they took Jaehaerys’ life instead.”

Aemond’s expression darkened further, his jaw tightening. “Where were you that night, Aemond?” Daena pressed, her eyes piercing his. “-What were you doing?”

Aemond remained silent, his face a mask of defiance.

Daena’s gaze softened, tinged with sadness. “I know exactly where you were” she admitted quietly.

Aemond’s eye widened in surprise and anger. “If you already knew, then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see if you would lie,” Daena replied, her voice tinged with regret. “After all it’s not exactly something you’d want everyone to know about, given your open disdain for Aegon’s repeated visits to the whores on the Street of Silk.”

Aemond’s face flushed with fury and humiliation. “Let me guess, Aegon told you, and the two of you had a good laugh at my expense.”

“Aegon did tell me,” Daena said softly, shaking her head. “But I didn’t find it amusing. If anything, I found it quite sad. That you have to resort to such a place to find the comfort and love you’ve been denied-”

Aemond’s anger flared even hotter. “I am not weak!” he spat, his voice trembling with rage.

Daena took a step closer, her eyes filled with empathy. “Seeking comfort doesn’t make you weak, Aemond”.

“Y-You wouldn’t understand-”

Daena took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Tell me the truth, Aemond. Did you deliberately harm Aegon at Rook’s Rest?”

Aemond’s expression hardened, his eye narrowing. “Aegon shouldn’t have been there in the first fucking place,” he replied, his voice cold and dismissive. “But he interfered and suffered the consequences.”

Daena shook her head in disbelief, her eyes filled with hurt and anger. “You’ve been plotting with Cole behind Aegon’s back and undermining his authority in the council meetings. The only reason you have a place on that council is because Aegon granted it to you, he thought he could trust you and this is how you repay him? By attacking him with Vhagar and grasping for his crown?”

Aemond’s face twisted with a mix of rage and frustration. “Aegon is weak. He’s never been fit to rule. I did what needed to be done.”

“What’s next, Aemond?” Daena demanded, her voice rising. “Are you going to take Helaena as well-”

Aemond's face twisted in rage, and he stepped forward, his voice rising. "No!” His hands clenched into fists, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "She is not the sister I desire"

Daena's eyes widened, and she took a step back, her heart pounding. "W-What?"

Aemond’s face was a mask of conflicting emotions: anger, longing, and something darker. "You think I plot and scheme only for power? You think I care only for the crown? You're wrong. I want you, Daena. I've always wanted you. And I will take you, just as I have taken everything else that was denied to me."

Daena backed away from Aemond, as she watched him remove the belt that held his weapons in place, the loud clang of metal upon stone as it slid from his hands and hit the floor made her jump.

His fingers quickly occupying themselves with removing the bandolier strap before moving onto his green leather riding jacket.

"This isn’t you. The brother I knew would never hurt our family like this. Please, Aemond, let it go”

Aemond's expression was a tumult of emotions—anger, longing, and something darker. He moved closer to her, his presence overwhelming, and reached out to gently place his hand on the back of her neck. He pressed their foreheads together, his breath warm against her skin.

"Kostilus lēkia," Daena whispered, her voice trembling. (Please, brother)

Aemond smiled, a chilling blend of affection and possession in his gaze. "Ao issi ñuhon, se nyke jāhor emagon ao," he murmured. (You are mine, and I will have you).

Daena shook her head, her heart pounding as she tried to back away from Aemond. But he wouldn’t let her, his voice dropping to a whisper, his words caressing her ear.

"I may have one eye, but I'm not blind. I see the way you look at me. I know you desire me the same way I desire you." He leaned even closer, his breath warm against her skin.

"Aemond-"

"Tepagon isse dōna mandia, se nyke jāhor gūrogon ao hae issa ābrazȳrys, se mazverdagon ao issa dāria” (Give in, sweet sister, and I will take you as my wife, and make you my Queen).

Daena's heart ached with a confusing mix of emotions. "It's wrong, Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Aemond's smirk was both confident and predatory. "How can it be wrong when it feels so right?"

Daena's mind raced, searching for something to anchor herself. "What about your promise to marry Floris Baratheon?"

Aemond's smirk widened into a grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eye. "A boar is no match for a dragon."

Before she could respond, he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss searing and insistent.

Daena pulled away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. But the intensity of his kiss, the depth of his longing, was too much to resist.

With a soft moan, she gave in, winding her arms around his neck and kissing him back passionately.

Aemond’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his kisses growing more fervent.

Aemond's kisses grew more insistent, his hands roaming over Daena's back as he slowly backed them towards the bed. Their lips never parted; each kiss more fervent than the last. Daena's breath hitched as she felt his long fingers deftly begin to untie the laces of her dress.

As the laces came undone, Aemond's hands brushed against her bare skin. Daena shivered at his touch, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

When the back of her legs touched the edge of the bed, Aemond paused for a moment, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Daena’s answer was in her eyes, in the way she pulled him closer, her fingers threading through his hair. "Yes," she breathed.

Aemond smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual intensity. He leaned down, capturing her lips once more as he guided her onto the bed. His hands moved with purpose, sliding the dress from her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin to the cool air and his burning touch.

Daena’s hands found their way to Aemond’s own clothing, eager to remove the barriers between them.

Once she had removed the out layers of his clothing, her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. Aemond groaned softly at her touch, his lips trailing down her neck as he pressed her back against the soft sheets.

Aemond positioned himself above her, his expression a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

Daena’s breath caught in her throat as she gently cupped his face with her hands. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture of his scar, a reminder of the pain and loss he had endured.

Slowly, she slipped off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire he had placed where his eye once was.

With tenderness, Daena leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. Her lips lingered there, as if trying to heal the wounds that had marred his flesh and his soul. She felt Aemond’s sharp intake of breath, a moment of pure vulnerability passing between them.

Her fingers moved to the tie that bound his long, silver hair. With a gentle tug, she undid it, and his hair cascaded down, framing his chiselled face. Daena smiled as she ran her fingers through the silken strands, marvelling at his beauty.

“So beautiful,” whispered Daera, her voice filled with affection.

Aemond’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to something more tender, more real. He lowered himself closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. His hand came up to rest against her cheek, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“Daena,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Aemond," she began softly, her voice trembling, "Will I be enough for you? I cannot love you if you seek out others."

Aemond's expression softened, and he stroked her cheek "My visits to Sylvi are over. I won't go back there anymore. I promise-"

Daena smiled and silenced him with a gentle kiss. Aemond responded with a fervour that matched her own, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

“My love-my sweetest-” whispered Aemond as he pulled away and descended down her body, kissing and nipping at her skin as he went.

“W-What are you doing?”

“I want to kiss you-here” replied Aemond as he pressed forward and ran his tongue over her warm wet folds.

She bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to slowly tease her entrance.

“None of that. I want to hear how good I make you feel” growled Aemond as he began moving his tongue against her, in rhythm with his fingers.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Daena, as she writhed against the sheets.

“That’s it-such a good girl for me” growled Aemond.

“OH-” whimpered Daena, as Aemond continued to move his tongue and fingers over her centre.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen. Come for me” whispered Aemond, his tongue moving across her pearl.

Daena arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond slowly crawled up her body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Daena blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself issa zaldrīzes” muttered Aemond, as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth, sucking off her slick. (My dragon).

Goosebumps erupted over Daena’s skin as Aemond removed his hand from his mouth and then took hold of her breast, his fingers gently teasing her rosy bud.

“W-What are you doing?” asked Daena as Aemond’s hand slid down her body and began teasing her folds.

“I-I need to prepare you a little more” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Daena.

“You are a maiden-I don’t want to hurt you” replied Aemond.

“Aemond” exclaimed Daena as he slowly slipped a finger inside her, the slick from her first peak easing the way.

Aemond buried his face in Daena’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger, moving them in and out slowly.

“So warm-so wet for me” rasped Aemond, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“I-I think I’m ready” whispered Daena.

Aemond removed his fingers and then moved between her open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against her slick entrance.

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes-” replied Daena as she felt him running his cock along her entrance.

“Y-You must tell me if it hurts” whispered Aemond.

Daena nodded and shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

“Your doing so well-” muttered Aemond trying to control himself.

“I-It h-hurts-“ whimpered Daena, the burning sensation bringing tears to her eyes.

“If it’s too much I can pull out-” offered Aemond.

“N-No just give me a moment” replied Daena softly as the tears ran down her cheeks.

Aemond leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks, his tongue catching her fallen tears.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Daena sighed in relief. 

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-I think you can move now” whispered Daena her hands running along the smooth plans of Aemond’s back.

Slowly Aemond withdrew and then moved forward, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Are you ok?” repeated Aemond as he thrust inside her.

“Y-yes-I think you can move faster”.

Aemond rested his head in the crook of her neck as he thrusts faster, his moans muffled against her skin.

“Ooh Aemond-that feels good” whined Daena.

“Your perfect-” whispered Aemond.

Feeling a spark of pleasure Daena dug her fingers into Aemonds back, holding him close.

“P-please Aemond. F-faster. H-harder” exclaimed Daena.

“Daera-” moaned Aemond as he began to pound into her, his hips slapping against hers.

“-I-I f-feel-” whimpered Daena, an odd sensation creeping across her stomach.

“-Let it happen-my sweetest, peak for me” exclaimed Aemond.

“DON’T STOP-PLEASE”

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it” muttered Aemond as he slipped his hand between their bodies and slowly began rubbing her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Daena as her peak exploded, making her entire body shake.

Aemond stopped, and rested for a moment as he allowed Daena’s peak to subside, his teeth grazing her shoulder.

“Did you enjoy that?” asked Aemond his voice quiet and raspy.

“Yes” replied Daena, fidgeting as she felt his hard length twitching inside her.

“Good-” said Aemond as he withdrew and quickly manoeuvred Daena onto all fours.

“What are you doing?”

“Now-I’m going to fuck you until you scream” said Aemond, delighting in the way Daena began nodding and whimpering as she pushed herself backwards against him.

“P-Please-Lēkia” whispered Daera (Brother).

“FUCK” groaned Aemond as he took his cock in hand and began rubbing it along Daena’s wet folds.

“Please. I want it-I want you, please don’t make me wait anymore” begged Daena.

“Fuck, that’s it” moaned Aemond his hard length filling her cunny in one smooth stroke.

“God. Yes. Aemond” sighed Daena.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

Aemond marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his sister was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

He was her first and he would be her only. There would be no others.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, plunging his cock into her cunny over and over, thrilling to hear Daena’s moans of need echoing around the room.

Bracing her arms, she pushed against him so he could shove his cock in. Harder and faster, his fingers digging into her hips.

Aemond felt his stones draw in; his peak was fast approaching. Gods he wanted to keep going, the feeling of her tight wet heat wrapped around him was just otherworldly.

But he supposed he could always take her again; he knew it wouldn’t take long after he spilled his seed for him to be ready once more.

He planned to take her many times, he needed to ensure that his seed had a chance to take root.

He couldn’t wait to see her all round and swollen with his child, for everyone to know that it was his son that she carried inside of her.

Part of him and her together-nourished by her mother’s body, her milk swollen breasts-fuck he could feel it building, he was going to spill, he was going to fill her up.

But he didn’t want to, not like this, he wanted to see her face.

Aemond quickly withdrew, ignoring Daena’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going to give you my seed-see you all round and swollen with my child- moaned Aemond.

“Yes-yes. Aemond. I want it-” babbled Daena as his thrusts became more frantic.

“Fuck-” groaned Aemond as he felt the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-Aemond” whimpered Daena.

“ñuhon, ry ñuhon” moaned Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time, his cock throbbing as he spilled rope after rope of his seed (Mine, all mine).

“Ry aōhon” whispered Daena, as Aemond rested on top of her (All yours).

“A-Are you ok?”  Aemond as he gently pulled his softened cock from Daena, he looked down and saw the mixture of his seed and her maidens blood dripping onto the sheet.

Daena nodded slowly, as she allowed him to enfold her in his arms and hold her close.

As they lay together in the dim light of Daena's chambers, their bodies entwined and their hearts beating in sync, a sense of peace settled over them. Daena's head rested on Aemond's chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his skin. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken promises of their newfound bond.

After a while, Daena broke the silence, her voice a soft whisper. "What will we do now, Aemond?"

Aemond's arm tightened around her, his gaze thoughtful as he stared at the ceiling. "First, I will wait for the council to name me regent. Once I have their backing, I will declare my intentions to marry you"

Daena lifted her head to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and concern. "And what about the war?”

Aemond's expression hardened, a determined fire lighting up his eye. "I will make plans with Cole. We will see an end to this war and to Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards”

"What about Aegon? If he recovers, he will no doubt resume his place upon the Iron Throne."

Aemond's face darkened for a moment, but then a small, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. "Yes—if," he replied, the word hanging heavily in the air.

Daena's heart clenched, and she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle a sob. The reality of what she done crashed over her like a wave.

She had given into Aemond, and by doing that, she had set herself against Aegon.

Aemond noticed her distress and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Don’t worry my love, all will be well in the end-you’ll see”

Daena smiled slightly, but deep down inside, a part of her realised that she had just made a terrible mistake.

The monster had been unleashed and she had no idea how to stop it.

[weird-addiction]

Hai! It's me again. I read one and the same and I was FLOORED!! Could you do a part two when they're both grown up and it's the dinner scene (you know the one). I love to see what you put together ❤️

~snake anon 🐍

One in the Same Part 2

Pairing: Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Twin!Targaryen!Reader

Genre: Neutral

Warnings: The dinner scene from Ep 8, calling others bastards, mentions of missing eyes, some book canon, typical violence

A/N: sorry it has been so long ಥ_ಥ I wrote this a while back but forgot to post. Here it is now. Happy Season 2!

It has been 16 years since the days that the single-eyed princes had claimed their dragons and had made it known to the people of Westeros now that they were the greatest threat to the realm, using that fear to make sure that no one else crossed them ever again. 

Now, the rightful queen had come back to defend her son’s claim to Driftmark. Aemond and Y/n were out in the training yard when they arrived. Aemond was busy sparring with Ser Criston, Y/n was the one that spotted them both. And from the looks of it, they saw him as well, however, there was almost immediate fear in their eyes. 

No one in Westeros could deny that it was uneasy to look at the two single-eyed princes, especially the younger of the two. As the younger, he would lash out more easily as he took the pleasure of seeing other cower in fear in front of him. Even their own elder brother Aegon could say the same about him. As Y/n was normally the one to slap him awake when he got blackout drunk.

Within the throne room of the Red Keep, both sides of the family stood on opposite sides of the room, the separation was obvious to anyone who had sense. Everyone but the king that was. 

Vaemond and Viserys were having a stand off at the moment as they argued over who should get the claim to Driftmark. Vaemond eventually had enough as he turned to Rhaenyra and her family, he yelled loudly as he spoke of his disgust that her sons were not his nephews.

“Her children…are BASTARDS!” He yelled, his body language telling that this was all genuine and none of it was fake. 

“And she is…a whore.” He was smiling at the end of his sentence, like he knew he had nothing left to lose. 

“I mean…we don’t really know, do we? Princess Rhaenys has black hair soo…” Y/n whispers to his twin, Aemond leaned over smiling as he responded. 

“But it is still a possibility isn’t it?” Aemond ruled out, to which his twin nodded. 

They turned back to the drama at hand, and as of the same second, Daemon had cut off the top half of Vaemond’s head; just above where his tongue was. 

Aemond had gone into a defensive stance as almost to shield his twin, Y/n was holding Helaena in his arms as she had her hands over her ears. He rubbed her back slowly, offering what comfort he could in that moment. 

The trial was soon over and nightfall came fast, and by the king’s request, both sides of the family were to have supper together. Aemond and Y/n were both quite hesitant to attend, as they were known to start conflicts even if slightly offended or pissed off. Before their father had arrived, the three sons stood off to the side as they had a random conversation. More or so it was Aegon telling them both to drink more.

“You both do not drink enough.” Aegon says. 

“You drink more than a Braavosi seahorse.” Aemond retorts. His twin let out a laugh.

“I drink just the right amount.” Aegon responds, one could even hear the eye roll on his voice.

“Right. Tell me that next time when I have to dump cold water on your head to wake you up.” Y/n says, amused by the eldest. 

“You just have a high tolerance. The most you have downed is three cups.” 

“Don’t compare me to you, brother. At least tonight, you have a reason to get drunk. It seems we all do.” Y/n looked back to the long dinner table, their mother and half-sister were not talking. Tensions were already rising and the dinner had not even started. 

“The noose is tied and they expect us to break bread.” Aemond says, to which, Y/n had to hold onto his arm to calm him down a bit.

“You can fight later. At least, when they offend you. Have a reason at least.” Y/n spoke, clearly also having thoughts of needing to let off some steam.

The dinner soon started and for the first while, everything was fine at the beginning as the music made it so the atmosphere was less tense. Everyone was at ease and talking with a smile on their face. 

Aemond sat at one end of the table, Y/n was to his right, sitting just next to Helaena. They were exchanging words every once in a while as the younger twin was speaking with his sister, Jace would also occasionally jump in the conversation. In which, Y/n was happy that he did…in his way. 

Y/n actually had food on his plate that he was eating, his twin however, was just sitting there. Plus, Aemond was sitting sideways and only looking at his younger twin only, and he sat incredibly still; like a statue he was. Y/n ignored it as he continued to eat, and talking with his sister of course. This was only a matter of moments before the dinner went wrong.  

A cooked pig was placed down right in front of Aemond, Y/n gave him a side glance that basically told him “I know what you are thinking” from his eye. Aemond tipped his head downwards for a second as to almost not acknowledge it, but then he looked to the person across the table from him. 

Lucerys had a smile on his face, and in this case, well, it was almost enough to set Aemond off; he was just hiding it quite well. Aemond knew, he turned his head just enough to see Luke from across the table, and the moment he turned his nephew let out a laugh. 

Which, Aemond took immediate offense to. 

Slamming his fist down onto the table, loud enough that the entire room quieted down and looked at him. He reached for his goblet and stood up, his figure now probably towering over his nephews at this rate. The look in his remaining eye was dilated to some degree to make it show that he was wanting to go after his nephews for a while now. 

“A final tribute. To the health of my nephews. Jace. Luke. And Joffery.” He took a breath. 

Aegon and Y/n both saw this and raised their cups as well, Aegon just looked like he wanted something interesting to happen. Y/n was just wanting to have some fun, in the “beating someone for no reason” kind of way. 

“Each of them, handsome, wise…” Y/n looked to his twin, giving him the nod of approval. Aemond smirked slightly as he said the final word. 

“Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent said in a hurry, almost wanting him to stop. 

“Let us drain our cups, to these three strong boys.” Aemond turned to Jace, still holding his cup. Y/n also stood up, following in his twin’s steps.

“I dare you say that again.” Jace challenged.

“Why. Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond challenged back.

This is when things got heated. Aemond and Jace approached each other, Jace, when he was close enough to his uncle, punched him right in the face with his closed fist. But Aemond barely had a reaction to this. Luke on the other hand was pinned to the table by Aegon, Y/n watched from behind his twin as he was just amused from all of this. 

When Aemond recovered from his hit, he pushed Jace down to the ground with ease. Y/n then walked over and stood in front of his twin, as he saw their uncle Daemon moving closer to them. Y/n knew his twin had a weird fascination with their uncle, often in their youth he would find Aemond ranting to him on how he wanted to be just like him. But now, Y/n knew he could not underestimate Daemon as he was known as “The Rogue Prince” for a reason. 

Alicent pulled Aemond aside as she began to lecture him. Though, he pulled his arm away as he walked back to where he was.

“I was merely expressing how proud I was of my family, mother. Hmm. But it seems our nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Aemond stood next to Y/n, urging him to add in on it. And indeed he did. 

“It seems our nephews have much to learn. Being proud of their heritage may be a good start.” Y/n added, he just wanted to see what would happen.

Jace was about to pounce like an animal onto his uncles, but Daemon stepped in and that was enough to get him to back off. Daemon then turned to look at his two nephews who held his gaze with competition. Aemond spared his twin a glance before the two agreed indirectly and left the dining hall.

As they walked off, the younger of the two let out a laugh. In which, Aemond, of course heard clearly. “What is so funny.”

“You are becoming worse than me. One day, your temper and actions will get us in big trouble.” Y/n remarked.

“Then we shall see what the future may bring us when that happens, won’t we.”

“Aemond. By the hells, please don’t actually do something you’ll regret. I do not want to pick up the pieces.”

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Now i hope this is not against any of your rules (i trued sorrry if i got it wrong).

But inagine. Like in those historical chinese pr turkish dramas. A harem au.

Lets go w reader for this one loooolll. Being thr queen. And aegon 2, aemond, daemond, both maegors as all the men in her harem. The fughting the dramaaa

This is so interesting 😁

Exception is hot men in your harem who are wholeheartedly loyal to you and give you the best pleasures and comfort....reality is probably catty men with big egos who fight for your full attention and favor, not to mention all the testosterone... 😅

Daemon would totally start the drama and trigger some chaos just to show you how useless the rest are. Aemond is very vocal about hating Daemon but would secretly take notes and cause even more drama...if it gets bad he will blame it on Daemon. Thing is Daemon knows how to control the chaos, Aemond doesn't "how was i supposed to know it will be such a big issue?"

Aegon is probably just happy to be there. He is needy at times but cherishes every moment with you. And he brags a lot. You spend one night with him and he won't shut up for a month. Secretly enjoys all the drama, but gets "oh shit!" when somehow he gets involved without his own knowledge

Maegor is confident and he doesn't need to scheme anything. He knows his worth and he knows he has a special place in your heart. But he does show off. Tourneys and all are his playground and others are just collateral.

Maegor ii is very cunning. He is like the annoying concubine in the harem who is secretly the real villain but is very loyal to you, his queen. He never gets caught and he uses people for his gain, maybe even killed a few.

They are Targ men, they all have killed someone at one point.

Imagine all of them at a feast or something. Giving backhand compliments to each other. Subtly pointing out flaws. There is definitely a cup of wine with poison in that room.

Also imagine all of them pleasuring you at the same time. There is one thing they all have in common...it's you. They all love you and would do anything for you

[aphroditelovesu]

I was in a doctor's office and an idea came to my mind while I was waiting to be seen:

What if Rhaenyra and Laenor had a legitimate child? And they, like the rest of the family because we love drama, were yandere for the child?

The Reader was the only legitimate child to be born from Nyra and Laenor's marriage. Their heritage could not be questioned due to its Valyrian appearance and the clear obsessive attachment that Laenor has to them, something he did not have with his other ''children.''

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra adored and spoiled her firstborn, she loved her other children deeply, but she favored the Reader, her heir, in the same way that Viserys favored her. As Cersei said, you never love anything in the world the way you love your first child.

Corlys and Rhaenys would be absolutely attached to the Reader, especially after Laenor's death, as they are the only trace of their son. Rhaenys wants Driftmark to pass to you and not Jacaerys (who in this scenario becomes Lord of Driftmark), while Corlys insists that becoming King or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms will be better for you.

Alicent and Otto would have developed their own obsession with you in their own way. Alicent would love you and perhaps even see you as a mother figure, causing friction between her and Rhaenyra. Alicent's children would follow their mother's example, Helaena would be especially close to you, Aegon and Aemond would constantly fight for your attention with their brothers.

Jacaerys is only a year younger than you and he considers himself your best friend. There is no resentment between you and there never will be, he loved you with everything in him and defends you tooth and nail. Lucerys is the youngest brother who constantly wants your attention and approval and becomes jealous when it is given to someone else.

It would be interesting, mainly due to the issue of usurpation. Things would get even more chaotic once Daemon entered the story.

Maybe I need to write something about this...

~ Lady L

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Two)—Revised

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader survived from the attack. But the new coming threat awaits her.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, size kink, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and Aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: I’m sorry; I have to redo the chapter due to my perfectionism and complications of getting my chapter point across. I hope it's better this time. By the way, I misspelled Criston’s name so I edited on the first chapter, and my mind STILL wouldn’t stop thinking about Aemond. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Two: The Green Star

Within their reach towards the destination in King’s Landing, under a stretched mile, moving from town to town, and markets and orphanage—after entering through Gate of the Gods—someone held you tight with one arm as he gripped the reins with the other hand. Your head bobbed and flopped from the tremendous speed from a horse. Your eyes opened to a band of armored men couldn’t find words to question or dare to challenge at someone’s actions from carrying you—a mysterious young woman—in his arms.

With your one eye open, for the last few hours, the moonlight casting its soft radiant light over the lands. Finally, underneath a cloaked hood, you spotted Criston Cole. You knew him, of course, based on how he acts in the show. Men who have seen Criston—his excellence in combat in training grounds and battlefield—never gave or reveal a soft spot for a woman. For a Knight in Westeros, the knights held the upkeep of never to lay a hand on a woman, let alone consummating a woman. Just like kings and queens, knights’ reputation must purify through oath and the civility of duty, not by the heart.

Within these governed laws must require a sheer will to not break a vow from a source of desperate love and intimacy or camaraderie of long-lasting companionship, one woman to the next. Being sent into the Wall and join the Night’s Watch is inescapable when choosing to lay or develop affections for a woman, whether the woman is married or lonesome whether being a bachelorette or widow. Or perhaps through dissent, other than committing a heinous crime. Once being sent at the Wall, the stories on what they have done in Westeros will be nothing but a fruitless conversation.

Meanwhile in Criston’s thoughts, although Criston thought you’re beautiful—even in your sleep—he does not love any woman; his unshared notions and expression to come into terms on how he adore the Targaryen princess, Rhaenyra, but all that’s forgotten when she gave birth to not one but three children and is betrothed and married to Prince Laenor Velaryon. Soon it erases the traced reminiscences of their shared times between the princess and the knight in armor, Rhaenyra, as a mother, placed her adoration for the children—and the claims to the Iron Throne—above all else.

But now he still loathes the dragon princess, buries hatred it in secrecy for Rhaenyra leaving him, and swear loyalty to Queen Alicent—as you read and watched the show.

Once the army infiltrated through the colossal gates, halfway to the Red Keep, you spotted Criston and his men trudged their way on the crowd—men, women and children were all staring at Criston Cole, but for one main reason: you—your hood came off due to the rush of wind. Although Criston carried you with ease and attentiveness, lifting you in his arms without so much of a trouble despite traveling, how his arm grew tired, not wanting to carry you anymore, but does it to maintain his clean image.

At first they made no effort to complain to Criston’s questionable nature regarding to his deeds. Bringing a young woman is unexpected.

“If you so much on planning to bring a whore into the Targaryens’s court, I do not wish but to think of the worst consequences for you and for the good of the realm. Your decision will cause a catastrophic downfall,” the man beside Criston spoke with urgency.

Criston spun his head and pierced his deadly and relaxed glare. “I’m in no position to take anyone as my bitch, ser. In fact, why don’t you do as you’re told by our queen.”

“You mean your queen,” the man seethed.

Criston ignored him, rolling his eyes.

“In fact, you can put this useless girl in the Street of Silk. She’ll be a great asset to men who needs tight cunt for a good breeding and it can swallow every seed and it can give birth to multiple bastards until she accepts her failure in death.”

Criston halted his tracks. “Then why don’t throw yourself to a woman’s cunt in the Street of Silk, Ser Marrow. I’m sure the fine ladies in King’s Landing will appreciate your service on fucking someone for having delicate desire of yours.”

This did not sit well with Ser Marrow. In fact, Ser Marrow could not register Criston’s reasoning on bringing the girl.

Knowing this won’t end well, but the girl has to be robust.

Hasten into the street of Rose Road, but then encountered traffic, to which he lead the horse to Street of Sisters, then turned right at Flea Bottom. Flea Bottom, filled with watchful eyes as Criston Cole and his men passed through.

All was quiet until you heard the words all at once:

“A whore!”

“The knight is carrying a whore!”

“Kill him!”

“To the death of the knights!”

“Fuck the Targaryens!”

People in Flea Bottom cheered as they fell from the windows of their townhomes and landed on the knights, who are all powerless when their swords were still in their sheaths; the swords are long to draw out for retaliation.

Criston, as brutal as he is, stabbed and slashed with his jagged sword, as people roared with rage and clawed the stallions skin. By their mistake, the horses punted and jabbed and ran, stomping over people’s bodies, and reached to the Street of Looms by the west side of the road.

Criston errored. When he glanced behind him, the people who are left alive still hunted them down, but his comrades slashed their way through for a clear promenade.

Night is throng with potential threats and sacrifice.

“For fuck's sake," he hissed. "We must reach to the Red Keep! Warn the others!” Criston shouted. “We must protect the Targaryen line!”

Suddenly the man’s speed had caught up with Criston and yanked you by the cloak and dragged you below, but Criston pierced his bloody sword on a man’s throat and retrieved you back in one swoop as his steed and his company ushered in the entrance gates of Red Keep.

By the time the gates are shut tight, you have woken up, but immobile and drowsy.

“Where…” your voice croaked. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe, my lady,” a voice said, looking up, you spotted none other than Criston Cole, a character you recognized in the House of the Dragon.

Screaming, you nearly throw yourself off the horse, but Criston held you. Though the men behind you gave an impression of unused to seeing your antics.

“At ease, my lady. You’re safe,” he said with a tight smile.

You cringed at his pretentious charm.

Did I potentially became an actress without giving an audition and be on a set of House of the Dragon?

But then recalling Ser Remon Blackwood’s words and call upon a realization. Westeros is real.

“Sorry, you just have me startled,” you said, deadpan. But you felt a tremendous wave of affliction after facing three men who tried to ambush you.

“It’s quite alright,” he said, still wearing a tight-lipped smile. Dismounted from his horse, he helped you down and ambled towards the stoned bridge. “Stay behind my men; they’ll protect you.”

Out of nowhere, Prince Daemon comes to into a scene.

“You’re late, Ser Criston,” he said with a sardonic grin.

Excited as you’re now, Prince Daemon wasn’t really your favorite member of House Targaryen.

“Apologies, my prince. I never knew you’re concerned of my punctuality, you’re merely acting as a dutiful handmaiden,” Criston remarked smoothly.

Asshat, as always.

Prince Daemon scowled. “Alicent needs you at this moment. I’m here to see my brother, not as a messenger. That damnable green star has caused ruckus to Caraxes and I.”

Criston’s jaw shifted from gritting his teeth. “I’m her guard not her hound.”

Prince Daemon rolled his eyes, and marched upon the gates leading to the Red Keep.

You’re certain that your wounds won’t fall into another failure as you watched Criston speaking to Daemon. One man leaned over against your ear. “One wrong move and you’re good as dead,” he warned.

Giving him a cold shoulder, you gazed upon the view of the dark ocean and crystal, ink sky. From gazing at far away town, it was magnificent, but upon a closer view, you knew how the underbelly of King’s Landing is.

Then looking upon the Red Keep, you were still in awe of the structure, vibrancy with crimson and ivory. But before you admire other parts of the Red Keep, two of the men blindfolded you—one wrapped the fabric on your eyes, the other on your wrists, then tackled you down while the others ignored your voice.

“One more sound and I’ll slit your throat,” he said.

Hiding behind them, even with a dark vision, you’re carefully planning out on your exit avoid of gaining infliction.

With a strike of punch, there’s not much you could do but felt trapped into a situation you can’t escape in.

The noise ensued.

The swords had drawn in.

Overhearing Prince Daemon is being ambushed by a band of thieves and killers who clambered out from under the bridge in the usage of strong rope and hooks secured and pierced the stone. Hoisting themselves in the air as they drew their blades out, attacking the rogue prince.

Grunt by grunt, Prince Daemon sliced and slashed through ragged clothe.

Though two of the men dead, except the bulky man with a great sword, twice as thick and honed. When he lifted the sword, you blocked the attack with a dagger in one hand while your eyes are blindfolded. With your rage, the green spark eroded, and snapped the sword in half, your blindfold tore in half, leading you doing a spin kick across the man’s cheek, sent him flying around seven feet away. Criston, Daemon and the army watched in awe. The dagger shattered; picking up the dead man’s sword, tying the sheath's belt around your waist, you clutched the blade and fought your way near the entrance. Although you retaliate, you earned wounds gashed on your exposed flesh.

When Jacaerys and Helaena appeared outside the palace due to curiosity, they spotted you fighting the band of killers with one slice and left them dead, blood sprayed everywhere, and tainted your peculiar clothe, fighting together with Prince Daemon.

Jacaerys—Jace—drew his blade out, but Helaena held him back, but Jace stubbornly charged in. Prince Daemon spotted them a mile away and towards the man who attempts to aim Jace’s head maimed through a roundish belly and fell down, the man’s body split into two. You managed to seize Jace and dodged the attack—blocking the blade from the killer before managed to have the upper hand; piercing through the heart, returning Jace back to Helaena’s side in one piece. “Get back inside! I’ll take it from here,” you said before charging back into the battlefield on the bridge.

The sentinels and men from the City Watch fought with their battle cry, attracting the attention from commoners at the streets behind them, flooding in, scattered at every corner.

Unbeknownst to you, Prince Daemon wondered who you were, or where you came from or why you came with Ser Criston. But you skills in battlefield, hasn’t seen anything extraordinary. He parried and lanced through the enemy’s chest. Behind Daemon, the killer held a brick and held above his head, but your split his head into two.

Prince Daemon’s peered at you as you smiled at him shortly before the men were charging towards the heirs. You skewered and slashed their legs in half; the earning of the intruders’ agony was worth it.

Until the man, thrown Helaena off the bridge, her shrilled screams filled the night’s air, but Helaena seized the rope, holding onto her dear life. When the man undo the hook, you knocked him out with a kick on his balls, resulting of him falling back with howling cry.

“Give me your hand,” you said to Helaena, your other hand outstretched to hers.

“Jace!” she bellowed, as the rope wobbled.

Behind you, Jace killed another man, who was trying to push you off the bridge.

“Help me pull the rope,” you said to Jace. Within an instant, you and Jace worked together and lifted Helaena off from the brink of death.

With the battle nearly over, you reached for Helaena’s hand and lead her back, safe and sound onto the bridge and fled with them into the gates.

Prince Daemon and Criston reached alongside.

“Close the gates!” Criston commanded. “Close the gates!”

“You’re safe,” you told them.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Jace said, putting a smile on his face.

Facing Helaena, you asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Helaena nearly sobbed. “Thank you.”

“See, everything’s alright.” You grinned widely.

Then a hot stab seared into your lower belly and collapsed; your body violently shaken, suffocating.

“Take the girl to the Maester,” Prince Daemon said, cut the traitor’s throat. “I’ll head back to the bridge with Caraxes.”

Screams echoed outside the gates, garnering everyone’s attention, but others fled into the Red Keep.

Your eyes gazed upon Jace and Helaena watched you in horror as Criston elevated in your arms, sprinting down in the castle, then through the secret passages, his mind motioning the idea of who could escort you faster to the Maester to dispose the poison; Criston rarely attends the healer’s room; Criston is an undefeated warrior with no battle scars.

With the last of your awake, you watched Criston entered the secret passage, and while crossing from a secluded hall, from there, he spotted the one-eyed prince, who returned from his training, softened at the sight of you, vulnerable in Criston’s arms, as you collapsed, eyes halfway lulled in oblivion. “She has been wounded,” you overheard Criston said.

Sheathing his sword, Aemond took an examine of you, as you examined him, listening in while dazed.

Tall and handsome, graced with fair hair and delicate yet strong features.

“What happened?” Aemond approached you.

Criston trudged passed Aemond and turned the corner into another hall. “The people from the Flea Bottom saw her, and wants me dead,” he said rather composedly.

“What you’re doing is treason,” Aemond reminded.

“Consequences be damned, my prince. But I found her alive in the forest.”

Aemond’s brow quirked. “How?”

“The men in armor are dead; all have been stabbed, and their cocks have been…cleaved,” Criston whispered at the last part.

Aemond’s eye widened.

“She saved Princess Helaena from falling of the high bridge, and protected Prince Daemon himself.”

Aemond’s hardened expression softened.

“Ask her once she’s awake,” Criston suggested.

Aemond suddenly swept you into his arms. “Go and ward off the people from Flea Bottom. Otherwise my mother will question your knighthood and send you to the Wall.”

Criston is relieved when you’re not in his arms anymore and fled back.

In these last awakened moments, your eyes saw but a glimpse of long, silver-gold hair glowing like halo, and a soft glow of his blue eye gaping into yours.

“Well done, my fair lady,” Aemond’s voice crooned. "You fought bravely."

Before you faded into your subconscious state.

~Aemond’s POV~

After positioned you onto the surgical table, he faced the Maester, who was bewildered at the dragon prince with a fallen maiden in his arms.

“You mustn’t tell no one of this,” Aemond said. “Heal her, and I’ll reward you well.”

Soon, he heard the footsteps, and sprinted outside the Maester’s room and hid among the shadows—after unlocking the secret wall and spied on Rhaenyra, and his mother, Alicent, who accompanied Rhaenyra the Maester’s room.

“Your Grace, Lady Rhaenyra,” the Maester bowed after prepping the medicine on his tiny desk beside the surgical table, where you lay.

“The men outside the Red Keep were severely injured,” Lady Rhaenyra said. “And the people from Flea Bottom arrived here without a warning, flooding through the gates; the guards were gravely injured from defense by the time we arrived.”

Queen Alicent, on the other hand, was surveying the maester with tensed posture.

“I cannot spare this room for the men,” the Maester said. “I shall send more healers for the guards. There’s another room for them to repose.”

Rhaenyra stood with neutral expression, still obtain a regal posture. “Good.”

Queen Alicent intruded with, “What of those from the Flea Bottom?”

“Syrax escorted them out,” Rhaenyra vexed. “I never would’ve expect that the plans to visit my father would come to terms of bloodshed.”

Queen Alicent chimed in with, “It is already been taken care of. However the penalties must continue; the people from Flea Bottom are beastly as they come, and should pay for its crimes from infiltrating the Red Keep.”

Rhaenyra darted her hues on Alicent. “The Commander of City Watch has been injured. That is why I came here on his behalf.”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” the Maester said. “I happen to be in a delicate procedure.”

Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed. “What might I ask what the cause of your refuse my request?”

The Maester turned around. Alicent and Rhaenyra pivoted their gaze to a lying figure on the table.

While laying still, you were mumbling incoherently, sighing.

“The poison has taken a great effect on her,” he said.

“Who brought her here?” Rhaenyra asked.

“Ser Criston, my lady,” the Maester said, but Queen Alicent knows that the tongue of a liar has shown nothing but hesitation; the grey eyes of an old maester averted. Alicent has known her subjects well for as long as she could remember; resided in King’s Landing for more than six years.

“What a strange attire she was wearing,” Rhaenyra commented, approaching your sleeping body, caressing the side of your face. “Beautiful girl, but, strange choice of appearance. Her gown is too short.” Then she took notice on your right thigh inked with a large and fiery outline of a red dragon stretched across the thigh, and on the arms until the knuckles of your delicate hands. “I’ve never seen anyone with strange markings,” she said, fascinated.

The maester gulped. “She fought valiantly outside the Red Keep, princess. She not only protected Prince Daemon, but rescued your son, Jacaerys, as well.” He then looked at Alicent with pride. “She also saved Princess Helaena from falling off to a drowning river beneath the bridge and consulted from this young girl before traitor stabbed her, contaminated with poison.”

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra are in deep bewilderment of the revelation regarding to your deeds.

“Impossible,” Rhaenyra said, paled.

“Are you certain?” Alicent chimed in.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he said. “Thank the gods your heirs has been graced by the valiant savior.”

Queen Alicent approached you, though rather carefully, studying your face.

“So young and vulnerable,” she whispered. “She shouldn’t die in vain. Not when she saved our children,” she said to Rhaenyra with watery eyes.

“She secured the successors to the Iron Throne and Driftmark,” Rhaenyra added.

Alicent could only stare at your visage. “We shall bless her with our gratitude.”

“We shall await for her recovery, and ask her questions, regarding to the green star,” Rhaenyra determined. “Until then, she must rest upon the hands between the Gods and you, Maester. Keep her alive and guarded from The Stranger.”

The Maester bowed. “As you wish, Lady Rhaenyra.”

As soon as Rhaenyra left, Alicent moved closer to the maester. “You have served as a Maester for many years of your excellent service. You may be truthful to your skills, but your eyes offered a lie. Tell me, who summoned her here?”

The Maester is unable to dart his eyes at her. “Your Grace,” is all he uttered.

“I can assure you that you won’t be punished; I shall spare you from the slice on your tongue,” she guaranteed, rather kindly. “Pray tell, who gave you the order? Who brought her here?”

After a minute of glancing at your sleeping form, he then veered at Alicent, and leaned against her ear. “Prince Aemond, Your Grace. He requested for me to treat her wounds and aid her through salvation, and handed her over to me—carried her from the entrance of the Red Keep.”

Alicent was awestruck once more with another revelation.

“I do not believe he sees her as Helaena’s rescuer to offer his gratitude,” she mumbled. “Rather more than what it lies beyond the prince’s decision.”

In the heart of a dragon prince’s mother, Aemond perceived the nature of your goodly heart. In the heart of a dragon prince still remains unknown. Rather what Queen Alicent seems to believe in.

Then the sincere smile fell onto her face.

~Your POV~

Your eyes have opened. Not in the apartment you lived in, but rather in the hands of a man who was drawing out the equipment to settle the resolute force on the poison that is bestowed on you.

In the maester’s room, there you were, your immovable body splayed at the rocked surface of the surgical table, weakened arms and hands clinging onto dear life. You wouldn’t hold still, not when the maester held the tools with honed end lancing on the poisoned area by your lower stomach.

“No, don’t touch me,” your groaned with plea, tears on the corner of your swell.

The old maester did his bidding, and gazed upon your agony with his melancholic eyes upon your fettle. For a short moment, you were sure that you’re going to die soon. With all that it’s left in your body is shattered and bleeding with venom, leak altogether against your raw and vulnerable flesh.

“It’s alright, my lady, you’re safe,” the maester said with a sad, polite smile.

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, tears prickling.

“It’s alright,” the maester repeated, his gentle voice gradually turned to a firmed tone, petrified of severing you through medicine.

The heavy oak door opened, unveiling the dark silhouette. Though your vision remains unclear, it is obvious who entered the healing room.

A young woman with elongated copper-brown curls reached on her chest, with brown eyes and elegance of her dark green dress was flowing across the floor as she ambled, encountering the maester as you listened in.

“How is the girl?” she asked, rather in a motherly voice.

“I was eliminating the disinfection of the poison, Your Grace. The girl’s stature could not survive long in this dreaded indisposition. She won’t last. Her bones have been fractured and her flesh is newly bled.”

“Have you used the Milk of the Poppy,” the queen asked, hoping. Her hands folded together with anxiousness.

“She took the last of it, Your Grace,” he said with a scowl on his face. “The lack of substance is insufficient—only a quarter of the liquid left; her mind is as resilient as a bull’s head, still awake and eccentrically movable.” He wiped the bleeding knife, sighing. “Mumbling and groaning in her unconscious state. Gods be good.”

“What of her wounds? The markings? Will she ever move again?” Queen Alicent noted your deep scars forged on your smooth, delicate skin, her hand smoothed against your tousled, stiffed locks across your softened look on your face, sleeping.

“The girl requires the milk of the poppy. Should the girl move while under the stead of my delicate care on discarding the poison within her body, her death will be as slow and merciless,” he reminded the queen. “It cannot be undone—The Stranger won’t spare a second chance for anyone. In additional process of cleansing and stitching on her fresh wounds needed delicacy, requires of greater assistance.”

Queen Alicent comprehended. “Go see if there’s anymore milk of the poppy. Bring the other healers to aid the maester,” she eyed and told the servant.

“Yes, Your Grace.” The girl bowed and quitted, skittered through the door.

Queen Alicent ambled and sat beside your restful sleep, whilst you’re unaware of her presence, watching you laboring your staggered breath in the humid air, smothered in heated sweat. Queen Alicent bestowed her concern on your poor health that’s closely endangered, to be sent to the God of Death—The Stranger, one of the many Gods in Westeros. Regardless, Queen Alicent’s main concern is your well-being.

“The effect won’t last long,” he reminded the queen. “There so little of the substance.”

Queen Alicent swept your hair longer. “Do what you must, Maester.”

For she and the others have something else in store for you once you gained consciousness and well accord.

As of now, you must battle your life between the air of life and death.

Piercing cries reached into the barricaded doors in the Red Keep. For those who walked pass by near the halls and down on the staircases leading to the lower grounds, would surely be terrorized by the sounds of your screams that is twice as loud. They were certain it was a dying sound of a dragon, but they were undeniably mistaken.

Luckily, the doors were sealed. No one was awake at the sound of your voice.

“Keep her still,” the maester instructed.

The godswives pinned you down from failing on the table each time you shifted. On a pair of limped legs, your one leg slithered downward across the table, and one of your fractured bones punctured with twinge of pain, searingly poking and a sensation of splinting.

You could no longer withstand the pain, not with the surgical instrument lancing through your bleeding skin. The wounds on your flesh stopped the blood from flowing. Albeit the process was painstakingly slow. The poison was heating up from your stomach and down on your hip.

And the conflict you upheld will unleash. One kick sent the godswife fell on the floor before she had seized your lower calf.

The door boomed, unveiling the healer delivering the milk of the poppy to the Maester. And Queen Alicent entered the room, which the Maester is unexpected with her reoccurring attendance.

The maester was undermined in the position of stress, hoping for other solution, but gained no new ideas to soothe you. Therefore, Queen Alicent went over to your side, ordering the godswife to loosen their grip.

“Listen to my voice,” Alicent murmured.

Little by little, you listened, but your breathing rasp with dejection.

“Don’t fight it, sweet girl,” she said gently, holding the cup filled with milk of the poppy. “This will do you good.”

Struggling to free from their grasp, you gazed at woman in green gown with trepidation.

“I don’t want to die,” you whispered with your ongoing struggle. “I have so much to live for.”

“You won’t be,” she reassured you, settling the cup into your parched lips, and you consumed the liquid and let your head fell down again. “Be brave,” she said. But this time, your struggle has dimmed, as did your eyes blurred harsher, unable to see the silhouettes of her, the maester and the knight. With your limbs sank, your breathing went from rush to steady flow. Your eyelids lulled into sleep.

~Aemond’s POV~

The repair of your wounds has gone successfully. Though rather took quite long, it has gone in favor. Rather, in Prince Aemond’s favor.

Aemond awaited in the dark of the great hall, eavesdropping his mother’s voice, and eyeing on you. As soon as she and Ser Criston left, Aemond met up with the Maester in silent haste.

“Have you told anyone of my whereabouts?”

“No, Your Highness.”

He knew that the Maester told Alicent; spying from one of the secret passage.

His eye flickered over the Maester’s shoulder. “How is she?”

“She’s in good health. She has defeated The Stranger.”

Aemond gave a small smirk. “You did well, Maester. At least I don’t have to kill those who harm the young woman.”

“It would be unwise to pose a threat for the Greens, my prince.”

Aemond had his hand behind his back. “I couldn’t care less of what the common people think of my duty.”

“That you do, my prince.”

Aemond gave the Maester small pouch with five coins for keeping his word, and make his way to your repose body, wearing the strange attire, which it struck an intriguing notion to him. Aside from your appearance, what caught his sight more is your visage and your long locks splayed across the table you laid on, Aemond pressed his fingers and traced the soft line of your face, the smoothness of your face.

Candle light flickered, it casted soft glow onto your features. Lifting your shirt, it revealed the greenish color of the poison faded as for the fresh wounds has been stitched.

Aemond’s hand ached to linger his touch on your flesh. Without so much doubting, his fingers traced over the lines of your waist. Hearing you moan, Aemond’s lips curled upward.

“I shall be taking my leave. Tell the servant to bring a spare attire for her,” he told the Maester, lifting you up in his arms and left the room, walking to a staircase and settled you down to one of the spare rooms. If his family rejected his idea of you staying, he’d rather annihilate King’s Landing than to put you into one of the servant quarters. He found a perfect spot for you to lay rest.

Resting you down on a bed with washed sheets, he dragged a spare chair and sat beside you. Aemond couldn’t restraint his smile at your sleeping figure. Despite it all, he was thankful.

He should have been sleeping in his own chambers, but curiosity lead him awake.

The servant entered with a nightgown and handed it over to the dragon prince. Shivering from the cold, Aemond discerned of your body devoid of blanket.

“She’s cold,” Aemond told the servant. “Fetch her warm blanket.”

As the servant dismissed herself, obliging.

Aemond, without a shred of single doubt, is intrigued with you. While the servant is gone, he resumed tracing his hands and fingertips onto your body.

Moaning, your body shifted on the side, which caused him to chuckle and reverted you back to the former position. A soft hum rumbled into his throat, studying you further, his hand hand splayed over the lines of your exposed thigh, slithered back up to your waistline, cupping your breast while the undergarment is intact. Seeing your chest heaving, it coaxed him to further his touch, smoothing again with your waistline, then up onto the back of your neck, smoothing your cheek with his thumb as he smiled adoringly.

He placed his hand afar when servant returned with a wooly sheet and placed it over onto the foot of the bed.

Aemond then stopped the servant; the girl’s eyes gleamed with fright. “Don’t let her wander out from her chambers; she needs few days of rest. It’d be unwise if she puts herself into harm’s way again. She can stroll through the gardens and the training yard as long as she watched afar.”

The servant could only nod then departed to rest in her own quarters.

Alone again, Aemond unfolded the sleeping wear and had you sat up, your long locks veiled most of your naked figure, though choked when he spotted red outlined marks on your arms. With precision, Aemond had your strange attire remove and exchange with new ones. Laying you down, he undo your tennis skirt and pulled downward, he spotted the red dragon on your whole leg and a pair of thin and pink material clad your womanhood.

Licking his lips, he smoothed the linen of your nightgown, shielding your legs and awaited for the maid to return.

When the maid has been summoned upon the demands of a prince, Aemond handed your attire over to a trembled servant, requesting for a good wash.

“I trust you tended to her needs whenever she desires and not utter a word to my family regarding to my requests or my doings,” he stated.

“No, my prince,” she said.

“Should you utter, I’ll feed your corpse to Vhagar,” he growled.

Aemond could only gaze upon her meek stance and parted away into the room anew and stayed, eyeing you. Shifting onto your bed, particularly your legs from sliding down with a soft stretch, Aemond couldn’t keep his hands apart. His mind plagued with other ideas. But held them off and left your chambers after looking at you one last time.

~your dream~

The sudden chill on your body has left with warmth and comforted with safety, not with the sheets of think blanket, but rather in the arms of a strong man. In the void of your dreams, you spotted long locks of silver-gold shining like golden halo as the blue eye behold with a sapphire stone on the other eye.

“My beloved star,” his voice echoed.

~Your POV~

Your drowsy body lurched, resulting your stomach and stitches twinged in exasperating pain, hissing.

“My lady, you should be careful with your wounds,” the servant girl said.

Hand over your head, your tousled hair tainted the pillows you slept on with black sand sticking onto your head.

“Oh, I stained the pillow,” you said. “I’m so sorry, I’ll wash it.”

Before you had a chance of disarding the pillow case, the servant girl halted you. “I shall take of it, my lady.”

Remembering where you’re at, you surrendered; the wounds you endured is another battle.

The servant carried the bowl with porridge, lifting the spoon and approached close to your mouth, you said, “I never like porridge.”

Shocked, the servant insisted with, “You must, it’s good for the wound.”

“As much I would like to, I’d rather eat something else, if you don’t mind,” you insisted.

She settled the bowl down. “What do you wish to have at this moment, my lady?”

“Ham, bread and cheese,” you requested. “A hot cup of tea. If it’s required for me to eat porridge, then I’ll do it.”

The servant rose onto her feet with a smile. “I’ll fetch your food right away, my lady.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“Anything else, my lady?” she anticipated.

“A bath,” you said, cheeks flushed as your head lowered, hidden in shame.

The servant bowed and calmly shut the door.

Your head plopped back down on the tainted pillows, not for long. The morning weather has simmered with sunlight. Abiding for your meal, you lounged, idling and contemplating.

From a modern world, jumping back to centuries past is one thing, but in a fictional world is another. In order to see another day, you must play the game.

You’re startled at the sound of a knock from the door in your contemplation. It was rather quick.

The servant returned, gladly served the meal on the round table and quitted the chambers, as you consumed every single piece of the breakfast portion. Once you’re finished, you propped the tray on the desk, and as you grabbed a cup of tea, the parchment fell down onto your lap.

Breaking the seal, the parchment wrote in few words.

Beauty is not when a soul finds when awake, rather in sleep.

Your heart raced, though slowed when it has no name—not knowing what the letter meant.

But for some reason, you feel as if you’re being watched.

In solace, your servant returned with new dress and shoes for you, and prepared a steaming bath on the room next door with smoke materializing.

“The bath is ready,” she notified.

Undo your nightgown and undergarments, you hopped into the bathtub, soaked with bubbles and rose scented bar soap with a new bottle contained in liquid substance like jelly—the Maester created hair cleanser for hair like yours—muddy and greasy. And so, while the servant assisted you, scrubbing your hair, you lathered yourself with bar soap, washing off the black sands from Blackwater Bay at the Dragonstone. By the time you’re done rinsing and drying yourself, she wore the dress over your head. While you’re combing your hair, she tied the corset around you and then gestured your feet to insert into the shoes. Last but certainly not least, she clasped the golden necklace on you at the vanity mirror.

For a moment, the self-conscious in you dwindled, for you have seen yourself in a mirror, filled with new life striving.

Another knock came in. You answered, revealing the Maester with medicinal items in hand and greeted you “Good morrow.” After a short exchange of words, you let him in, and allowed him to inspect your wounds and delivered you the milk of the poppy, then made a further inspection of your new wounds and the poison in your belly. In the end, the maester is relieved.

Another knock came in for the third time. Revealed Ser Criston Cole swung the chamber door open, following Queen Alicent. The servant already left once she gathered the soiled sheets before the arrival of the maester and the Greens.

“Your Grace,” the Maester bowed, though you didn’t have time to curtsy because the characters you’ve seen on the show are brought to life.

Overwhelmed, you curtsied though as if you’re suffocating with elation.

Queen Alicent gazed at you before the Maester.

“How is she fairing, Maester?”

“The wounds on her flesh are still new. But with her withstand to harm is astounding; and yet she’s able to move with agility and ease.”

Queen Alicent darted her eyes on you, from head to your shoes. “How are you fairing, sweet girl?”

Your mouth opened, stuttered. “I’m doing perfectly okay, Your Grace.”

Alicent grinned. “Wonderful. I hope King’s Landing doesn’t settle disagreement in your heart,” she said.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’m not offended. Not in the least.”

Queen Alicent examined you. With your cleansed appearance, she finds herself genuinely smiling again.

“What is your name, sweet girl?”

“Name’s (y/n), Your Grace,” you said in a somber smile, drowsy during the massive effect of Milk of the Poppy.

Alicent seems pleased with your introduction. “A pleasure. Rhaenyra’s right. You are beautiful.” Then her face turned grave. “As much as we idle our conversation, you must be prepared with your answers with the Blacks. You protected their heir, just as you rescued my daughter, what’s more is your capabilities, so brace yourself. I shall be heading to the council with the others. Ser Marrow will escort you to the council room once you’re done meeting with the Maester.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“I shall see you there.” Queen Alicent left without a word as Ser Criston followed.

After done conversing with the Maester, you thanked him as he left your quarters.

Dabbing your lips with lipstick, you ushered yourself to meet Ser Marrow. But instead of a greeting, he struck a blow on your belly and the side of your cheekbone with his gauntlet not once but seven times, bruising your lips and nose, and blindfolded you with a golden fabric.

“You should’ve stayed dead, you whore,” he said, then dragged you down at the council.

~Aemond's POV~

It was a clear message when Alicent told Aemond that she had an important council meeting up the high floor. Meaning, no heir is allowed to enter unless the heir becomes King or Queen. Disregarding of his mother's words, Aemond found his way through the secret passage again, peering through the carved hole, as he flicked his gaze, spotting Alicent and Criston, chatting, while the rest were still on a most gossiped subject that lasted in recent days--the green star.

"Looking for someone," a voice said.

Aemond looked over to his brother, Aegon, who was drinking red wine in a heavy goblet.

"You shouldn't be here, brother," he said.

"Neither should you," Aegon said. "Besides, you didn't answer my question."

Aemond ignored him and listened to Alicent's conversation.

“Where could she have gone? Did the guard lead her onto the wrong room?” Alicent agitated.

“She’ll be here soon,” Ser Criston assured her, watching the Blacks interacting.

Their talk has cut through the air when the double doors boomed, startling the Blacks and Green; with you in his hand, keeping you standing, bleeding as your dress tattered, and your nostrils bloodied, eyes shielded with blindfold, and your hands tied on the back.

“Here’s the whore you wanted,” Ser Marrow seethed to the Greens, casted you down with splat.

Your head raised and studied the environment—the council room. But you took noticed of the Blacks and Greens’s faces, are all unexpectedly mortified of your bruised appearance and the guard’s sudden outburst.

In the land of Westeros, a girl from a modern century has entered into the House of the Dragons.

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy - all rights reserved

Taglist: @galactict3a @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @hufflepuff1700 @colored-tr-panels @valeskafics

[avnkin]

burn for you.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

when your family is summoned to court you find yourself caught in the middle of your brother's and uncles conflicts

note: didn't think I'd ever be writing on here again then I discovered aemond and here we are lmao, also I just noticed that I reached 4k followers I don't deserve y'all tysm <;3 this fic has enemies to lovers type beat cuz I can't help myself. Also, I'm a sucker for Daemon speaking valyrian to Rhaenyra so there's plenty of that type of dialogue between the reader and Aemond not to worry though the translations are all written behind the text, enjoy

wc: 3.8k

warnings: foul language, asshole!aemond, incest, family drama, Aegon being a creep y'know the usual

You fiddled with the hems of your sleeves, the inky fabric wrapping itself firmly around your arms, the dress you wore cascading down your figure all the way down to your boots, the ridiculously tight corset beneath causing you to exhale a much-needed breath, you were nervous, that much was apparent.

You just moments earlier, along with everyone else in the throne room had been left permanently scarred after having witnessed Daemon cut your great uncle's head clean in half. You didn’t disagree with Daemon’s actions quite on the contrary you just weren’t privy to witnessing such violence firsthand, it was something you hated about attending court, everyone here seemed to be in a dick-measuring competition.

You let out a huff, you had no interest whatsoever in attending the family dinner Viserys had planned for tonight, you wanted nothing more than to mount your dragon and fly back to Dragonstone this instant. Your thoughts of escape were interrupted by a light knock on your door, you glanced over your shoulder immediately feeling your shoulders tense because you knew it was time to go.

"Are you ready my love?" your mother's voice could be heard from behind you as she peered her head into your room, pushing the door fully open once she saw you were decent. "Ready as can be, mother" you turned towards her walking into her outstretched arms as she engulfed you in her embrace. “You look wonderful” her soft fingers ran down your arms straightening the fabric as she fussed over you for a bit only stopping when you swatted her hands away, sighing she stepped aside allowing you to exit your chambers.

You’d only been walking for a short moment when you felt the need to ask, “when do we return home?” her eyes met yours as she raised an eyebrow at you “we’ve only just arrived” you rolled your eyes at her reply, she knew you hated it here.

You’d never been particularly close to the other side of your family, mostly because of the treatment your mother had to endure from them specially the queen herself.

You knew of their friendship in the past and had even suspected it might have been more than that though never daring to bring it up to your mother since the mere mention of her name seemed to put her on edge. You'd been privy to the many times Alicent had unfairly treated your mother and you cared not to pretend her cruelness was justified, never mind what had happened in the past.

"I know, I know just… play nice, okay? I don't want any trouble tonight, not in the state your grandsire is in" you looked down at your feet, frowning as you pondered the stress this might all be causing him, he was barely hanging on by a thread surely all this drama wasn’t helping.

"I'll play nice if they do" you muttered, glancing up at your mother who gave you a stern look "I jest" you finally caved coming to a halt before the large double doors that led into the dining hall. "It'll be fine" you heard your mother mutter, more to herself rather than to you. You smiled at the two guards posted outside the doors as they each grabbed a handle and pulled them open allowing you to enter.

The greens were already there, sitting patiently awaiting your arrival. You immediately felt yourself shrinking underneath their harsh glances, having to remind yourself you were no longer a mere girl of six like the last time you’d dined with them. You raised your chin as your mother reluctantly let her hand fall from yours taking her usual seat next to Daemon at the dinner table.

You looked around the room frowning once you made eye contact with Aegon, he was leering at you the same way he had been ever since you’d arrived at court, his eyes roamed your figure from top to bottom coming to a dead stop at your bust. You felt sick under his gaze, he had no shame whatsoever in looking at you however he pleased, eyes following you the entire way to your seat which much to your dismay and discomfort, was the one opposite his.

"Ah my dear niece" he slurred slamming his golden wine goblet onto the table, the liquid sloshing around the rims of it, he'd clearly not been shy on the alcohol. "You look absolutely ravishing" the compliment made you squirm in your seat your eyes darting around the room before landing on Daemon who was glaring daggers at the boy in front of you.

"Thank you, uncle" you forced out through gritted teeth trying your hardest to maintain a smile on your face, your mother’s words from earlier refraining you from calling him a creep and splashing that wine in his face.

You looked around the table then for the first time properly since you sat down, smiling at Helaena as she offered an apologetic look clearly ashamed of the man she had been forced to marry. You felt for the girl she didn't deserve someone like Aegon, although it could easily be argued that no one deserved someone like him.

It was Aemond who captured your attention next, he had certainly changed since the last time you’d met him, grown. You made eye contact with him for the first time since you’d arrived stopping yourself from cringing at the eyepatch he wore, the foul memory of the event now in the forefront of your mind and you immediately looked away feeling ashamed as soon as you did, it was him who had to suffer the horrendous aftermath of that night, not you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the doors opened revealing the king in his dire state. He was being carried by four guards, barely being able to keep his own head up let alone walk.

Everyone round the table stood including you, brushing down the skirts of your dress finding something to distract yourself with as you could barely bare to look at him in this state. Once the king had been placed at the center of the table all of you finally sat.

“How good it is, to see you all tonight, together” he was breathing heavily already out of breath from the few words he uttered.

“Prayer before we begin” you heard Alicent declare, your brows furrowing as your eyes met your mothers who seemed to be just as bewildered at these new customs as you. You couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face it was almost comedic the flummoxed expressions on both Daemon’s and Rhaenyra’s faces

“May the mother smile down on this gathering of love…” you drowned out her words as you snuck a glance over at Aemond who had his eye closed and hands pressed together diligently listening to his mother’s prayer. He'd grown quite handsome over the years that had passed, you shook your head pushing those thoughts into the back of your mind as you looked back down at your hands, before closing your eyes once more.

“And to Vaemond Velaryon may the Gods give him rest”

Your eyes shot open at that, immediately darting over towards Daemon who couldn’t seem to help his amused expression, he looked over at you and you both gave each other sly smiles before you closed your eyes again resuming your praying stance.

Once Alicent had finally finished Viserys peeped up from next to her “this is certainly an occasion of celebration. My grandsons Jace and Luke are to marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes and their betrothed's” you grinned at Jace as you raised your own goblet, Daemons ‘hear, hear’ causing both your brothers to smile at their future wives proudly.

The moment didn’t last for long with Aegon feeling the need to lean over towards your brother muttering “well done Jace you’ll finally get to lie with a woman” you rolled your eyes, your uncle’s horrid personality never ceasing to amaze you. “You do know how the act is done, I presume” he continued “at least in principle, where to put your cock and all that”.

“Let it be cousin” Baela warned shooting Aegon a menacing glance as she placed her hand over Jace’s in an attempt to quell his rising anger.

“You can play the jester if you wish but hold your tongue before my betrothed” Jace cautioned seeming satisfied as Aegon backed down leaning back into his seat, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

You painfully sat through the remainder of the dinner having completely lost your appetite when Viserys had removed his golden mask revealing the decay hidden underneath. You listened to your family make their toasts, smiling at your mother in support when she tried to make common ground with Alicent who in turn surprisingly seemed to appreciate Rhaenyra’s declarations.

You were toying with the vegetables on your plate bored out of your mind when you noticed trouble seeming to brew on Aegons face as he downed the remainder of his cup in a split second, pushing his chair back and making his way towards the wine jug that sat between Baela and Jace.

You looked over at Aemond who was already starring at Aegon knowing his brother well enough to predict the upcoming wrangle.

“I…” Aegon started as he poured a decent amount of wine into his goblet. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask” your eyes widened at your uncle's audacity, but before you could say anything Jace had slammed his hands down onto the table his chair almost falling back at the speed in which he got up.

You shook your head at Jace and he seemed to bite his tongue his knuckles turning white as he forcibly held his hands at his sides. Your head turned at the sound of another chair being pushed back, Aemond had now also stood more than ready to come to his brother's defense if need be. His violet eye held a warning as if daring Jace to try something.

The aroma in the room felt suffocating the only person who seemed to be oblivious to the boys’ conflict was the king himself.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin as you felt Aemond’s eye on you. You squeezed your eyes shut taking in a breath before returning his gaze. He seemed to be intrigued by you, you figured it was because you didn’t look like your brothers, instead bearing the Targaryen features, silky white hair to match his own, violet eyes mirroring his as they bore into yours.

You raised your eyebrow in question wondering what he could possibly be thinking about, his lip upturned slightly at your expression, eye scanning you as he took in your new form, he seemed impressed and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

“To prince Aegon and Prince Aemond” Jace’s words snapped you out of your trance as you turned back towards your brother, his goblet raised in his hand as he continued. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health dear uncles”

You smiled proudly at your brother who gave you a knowing wink before taking a sip out of his goblet, giving Aegon a ‘friendly’ punch on the shoulder as he did. Aegon put on a tight-lipped smile at your brothers’ words not even looking at him as he muttered “to you as well”.

Aemond reluctantly sat back down as the building tension finally seemed to dissipate until Helaena stood a slight wobble in her step as she steadied herself against the table clearly feeling the effects of the wine she had drunk, placing one hand atop the wooden structure she raised the other squeezing the cup she held tightly between her fingers.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk”.

Your eyes widened at her words and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, quickly covering it up with a cough when you made eye contact with your mother who held a warning look.

“Good” you heard Otto tell her and for the first time in your life, you agreed with him.

You looked over at Jace and you could immediately tell that he was considering something, silent debate written all over his face until he eventually seemed to come to a conclusion standing up and excusing himself to Baela before he made his way around the table over to Helaena who seemed genuinely shocked as Jace reached out it his hand for her to take, an offer to dance.

You smiled lovingly at the scene before you, your niece who seemed for the first time since you got here to be enjoying herself. Jace had always had a talent for making people smile, it was truly a gift it was like he radiated happiness and it infected everyone around him.

Servants soon began to fill the room, each carrying silver platters of delicious cuisines as they made room on the already stuffed table for the added refreshments.

You heard your younger brother giggle from across the table and as you followed his gaze you soon realized why. A pig had just been placed in front of Aemond and you immediately recalled the time your brothers and Aegon had gifted him a pig claiming they had finally found him a dragon. 'The pink dread' they had called it, a cruel childish prank, you shook your head at Luke and it seemed to quell his giggles, you hoped that would have been the end of it.

You jumped when Aemond was suddenly slamming his fist into the table causing the entire thing to shake at his sheer strength. “Final tribute” he declared a mischievous glint in his eye as he smirked at his uncles gods you thought, here we go.

Aemond raised his goblet into the air his eye meeting yours as he spoke “to the health of my niece” he gave you a smile before turning to your brother “and to my nephews... Jace, Luke, and Joffrey” he trailed off “each of them handsome, wise…” there was a long pause as he turned to face Luke seemingly taking in his appearance his head vaguely tilting to one side as he smirked he wouldn’t you thought “Strong” he did.

Your eyes immediately widened in alarm as did your mother's. Alicent's warning tone as she muttered Aemond's name didn't seem to face him in the slightest.

“Let us drain our cups to these three, Strong boys” he continued clearly trying to get a rise out of your brothers. He succeeded but before Jace could say anything Alicent had called for the guards to remove the king clearly not wanting him to bear witness to the upcoming conflict.

“I dare you to say that again” Jace warned as soon as the doors had closed signaling Viserys’ exit from the room, Aemond feigned surprise at his words. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment” Aemond put his cup down as he made his way over to Jace and you immediately stood up, coming to your brother’s defense.

“Do you not think yourself Strong?” Aemond kept pushing and before you could reach them Jace had punched Aemond square in the face earning a gasp from you as you stopped dead in your tracks.

Aemond let out a low laugh not having been affected in the least by your brother's assault and in retaliation easily pushed him to the ground. You finally unfroze at the thud that echoed around the room as Jace landed on the floor and hurried to stand between them stopping Aemond's stride as he attempted to get at your brother again.

“Dīnagon” move he warned, a glint of challenge in his eye.

“Kesan daor rual ao naejot ilagon iā ondos va ñuha lēkia” I will not allow you to lay a hand on my brother.

A low laugh rumbled in his throat, and though he seemed to be impressed as you stood your ground he easily pushed you aside but before you could come to your own defense Jace had sprung up from the floor immediately stepping in front of you and pushing you behind him.

“Don’t you dare touch my sister” he was seething you could feel the way his chest was heaving as you stood behind him.

“Mm… I don’t know, I think she wants me to touch her, don’t you gevie” beautiful your brother lunged at him, but Aemond easily moved out of the way shaking his head in amusement as he did.

“Jace!” your mother yelped as both she and Alicent finally intervened.

“That is enough!” Alicent could be heard from the other side of the room as she made her way around the table reaching for Aemond and instantly grabbing his arm as she scolded him, “why would you say such a thing before these people?” Aemond easily ripped his arm out of her grasp turning back towards Jace who was now being held back by one of the guards.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Jace finally managed to wriggle himself out of the guards hold just as Aemond finished his sentence but before he could lunge at him once more Daemon stepped in front of him finger raised in the air "wait" and Jace listened planting like a tree behind Daemon.

You walked to stand next to your brother, Aemond and Daemon's face-off had turned the entire room quiet. Your mother didn't seem to want you or your siblings bearing witness to this debacle any longer as she ordered all of you to return to your quarters.

You reluctantly obeyed knowing that putting up a fight would get you nowhere. You followed your siblings out of the room but before you left you snuck a quick glance over your shoulder turning your head back immediately once you saw Aemond's eye was already trained on you.

-

You got no sleep the following night, the previous events playing over and over again in your head, you raised yourself up pushing the covers off of you as you got out of bed.

Fresh air that's all I needed you thought, hastily getting up as you grabbed the cloak that lay on the chair in front of your vanity, pulling on your boots as you quietly exited your chambers.

The castle walls were only lit by a few flames littered along the walls, you let your fingertips brush along the cold stone surface as you planned to make your way down to the god's wood.

The moonlight shining through the windows was now the only thing brightening up your path as you neared your destination taking careful steps down the seemingly endless castle stairs.

"Can't sleep?" you stopped dead in your tracks at the familiar voice behind you, slowly turning around your eyes meeting Aemond's. He pushed himself off the stone pillar he was currently leaning against how did you not see him? slowly making his way toward you only coming to a halt when you were nearly chest to chest.

The blue moonlight lit up his features which were carefully hidden underneath the hood of his cloak.

"Issi ao pikagon nyke?" are you following me? he chuckled at your words, intertwining his hands behind his back as he slowly began to circle you.

He came to a halt when he stood behind you leaning close to your ear as he whispered "you think too highly of yourself dear niece" you shuttered as his breath fanned over your ear, turning your head to face him as he slowly made his way back in front of you.

"You think you're the only one troubled by sleep?" he tuts reaching his arm up to pull down his hood, he looked absolutely breathtaking. "No, I suppose not" you admitted eyes narrowing at him as he tilted his head giving you a one-over.

"That was quite the scene you made earlier" you commented crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. "Tell me uncle, does that make you feel powerful? Bringing down your cousins in front of the entire family, in front of the king" his lip twitched at your words and you could immediately tell you struck a nerve so against your better judgment you kept pushing.

"Are you so desperate for daddy's approval that you-" he cut you off, fury in his eye as he grabbed you by the throat pushing you up against the stone pillar behind you, it wasn't enough force to hurt you, but it still took you by surprise, the wind knocked out of you momentarily as you clawed at his arm in an attempt to free yourself, with no avail.

He towered over you outmatching you in both height and strength "you've no business speaking to me that way dear niece" he leaned in closer, lips hovering above your ear as he whispered "don't think I won't gut you right here in this corridor and gift your heart to your bastard brothers"

He pulled back slightly to take you in, he seemed to be content with the state of you, chest heaving as you glared up at him hatred boiling in your tummy as you pushed with all your might against his chest, he didn't move instead he dropped his hand from your throat at his own accord before taking a step back, your shove having not affected his retrieval in the least.

You let out a long breath as oxygen now circled normally in your lungs once more. It took you a second to gather yourself but when you finally did you straightened your posture closing the distance between the two of you, once more

"Iksan daor zūgagon hen ao, kepos" i'm not scared of you, uncle.

"Ao yenka sagon" you should be.

You didn't dare be the one to back down first so you held his stare, his lip upturning slightly as he raised his hand up to clasp your cheek gently running his fingers down your throat, his feather-like touch a complete 180 from the way he had manhandled you only moments prior.

He finally stepped back out of your personal space a low 'mm' vibrating in his chest as he turned to leave. "You should get some sleep gevie" there was that word again beautiful "I'll see you in the morning".

let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

[lady-ashfade]

Yandere house of the dragon x Hybrid Dragon reader:

The first declare.

Taglist: @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @second-try-stevie @prettyinblack231

Notes: Man. Not going to like this is a bad time to lose my spark when I have 100 requests but it just because of the holidays. Also wanted to make this longer but I wanted to get something out. So I hope you enjoy. 

Warnings: Yandere, yandere tendency, bad writing, obsessiveness, protectiveness, unhealthy relationships.

Years has passed from when you were takin in by the king and queen, and only few when you had shown your true powers.

You hadn’t seen daemon and his wife and children in a few years but they had written letters, or when he would come late in the night to visit but you swore to keep a secret.

You had grown into a small young woman and to the people around you, they care so very dearly for you. Obsessed to put it lightly.

Daemon treated you like his own daughter and bought you gifts from his adventures. He missed you very much and he considered kidnapping you away from the life in the castle away from all the drama. They all had place you in the center of their war not caring for just you.

Speaking of the war, the two that were the head of it was your mother and sister. Alicent and rhaenrya.

Alicent thanked the gods everyday for sending you into her life and her childrens. You grew up to love them as your own siblings and treated her like your mother.

Rhaenrya did try and take you away from Alicent and push her way to also raise you. Sometimes in the morning when Alicent would come to help get you ready rhaenrya was right there already helping you.

But as time grew their sworn protectors also took a interesting in you and become protective as well.

Sir harwin and sir cristin cole tried their best to win you over. They both would promise and help you train when it was allowed, they even got you very small gifts to make you like them more then the other. Of course the girls encourage this.

Sir hawrin was always kind to you and you liked him very much, sometimes you did wonder if he was jace and Luke’s father but you never asked because it didn’t matter. You loved the boys no matter.

Cole followed you around at your mothers command and it go annoying. But he’d find a away to flip it around and say he’d take you train later. Alicent did push cole into your life because he was always with her.

Viserys over time got sicker and you were always called to his room. You’d read to him and talk to him some nights. You walked around with him more then anyone because he was your father. He welcomed you in court as a cup barer. And sometimes if you had a opinion he’d listen to you.

But as the children grow with you, the more their feelings did. Just like their parents.

And now two of the boys have crushes.

The strands of hair between your fingers felt soft as they usually do, the white shine it had was always something you cared for. You looked down at the boy who laid his head in your lap while his face was coved by the book in his hands. “Aemond?” you ask. The boy quickly dropped then book down to looked up at up at you- He usually dropped anything he was doing for you.

He didn’t give a vocal answer but you could tell his focus was solely on you, his eyes filled with Curiosity of your next words. “Do you think one day you’ll get a dragon? I know you wish so hard for one, but one day when you do get a dragon..” you looked away and a breath was let out.

“Will you love it more then me?”

Aemond didn’t believe the words he listened to, Will he love it more then you? How could he love anything more then you, you being the most important thing in his life: His twin flame. The prince was quick to shot up from your lap and careful not to harm you. Taking your hands into his and holding them so soft and sweet but the grip was still there to get his point across.

“These words you speck are far from anything I will ever be capable of doing my dear sister. No dragon, big or small, no matter it’s color or strength.” His eyes held the truth and you could see the darkness behind his eyes from as long as you could remember. “I will never love anyone or anything more then you, my love. I might not have a dragon, but I have you.”

A smile of happiness and relief reached your lips and you pulled him into a hug which he quickly returned with a laugh. No matter how many times you hugged him you seemed to bring a light into his dark and lonely mind. “I’ll get you a dragon one day but i’m glad you settled for me.” You had dreams of one day getting a dragon for your brother so he could be happy. Maybe you had some doubts of him loving it more then you but as long as he was happy you would try.

Before he could respond the door of the Library swings open and the faces you see are your younger nephews, Jacaerys and lucerys, the brown headed boys took a second to scan over the room but soon their eyes fell on you. The spark in their eyes got wider in excitement but it fell short when they noticed the boy holding you. Aemond’s face lifted up as a small smirk planted on his lips and held you closer. “What is it now?” His annoyed voice called out but you rolled your eyes and pushed him softly away to stand up. He looked hurt but you held out a hand to help him up.

“Our mother called for her. She has gone into labor and she wants her to be there.” You gasped and rushed away from aemonds side and over to the boys. “Thank you for telling me.” Dashing passed to boys and out into the hallway disappearing, leaving the boys glaring at each other. Aemond was the first to speak up, “You do know this is our special place right? I’m surprised you even know there is a Library.” Walking closer to them the boys stand defensive.

“And what about you? You always take her away from us when we should be the ones with her, or you constantly take her out of her duties. My mother said you aren’t even her real brother and that we are closer.” Jaces words hit aemonds heart like a knife and it got him fired up. “You want to say that again?” He got closer in jaces face ready for any move about to be made.

“She is my sister.” The white haired prince yelled. Only for the shout of the other prince made him freeze.

“She will be my betrothed.”

The words lefted jaces mouth in a harsh truth and his pride and demanding tone as he recalled the words and whispers his mother told him. Aemond’s hand clinched tight as rage filled his body and over take him almost too bearable to shake. Blood of the dragon did run deep through his veins.

“Say that again.” The older prince took steps forward to close the gap between them, the youngest held tight onto his brother in slight fear. “Y/n is ours, she’s our aunt.” No one payed attention to him because he was not important at the moment.

“What’s going on here?” A stern voice bounced off the walls and broke the glares of hatred between the two princes. The boys turned to see sir harwin: a knight of the kings guard but only young Luke was blind to what he really also was, who he fathered. Jace quickly smiled and swung a arm around Aemond’s shoulders, “We are just bickering about a stupid game.” It took all of aemond to suck up his anger and force a smile back. 

The boys quickly ran behind the guard as he lead them out and told them it was time to leave the library and go to the dragons pit. The biggest man’s back was turned and it gave Aemond one last time to speck and get his point across.

“She is mine.”

You walked back and fourth with anxiety as you listened to the yells and screams from the next room. No matter how many times you listened you couldn’t get used to it. The panic you felt made your blood pump faster and the wave of emotions all collided. Golden eyes shined brighter then normal like the sun had taken their place, black nails replaced your normal ones at your fingertips looking like it could cut through anything, then wings on your back ready to come out at any second. 

It’s been a few years since your powers showed and yet you still do not know how to contain them as best as you wished. You could do more things then you could before and are better now but emotions are your down fall.

The screams come to a end and you smiled waiting to be welcomed into the room by the maids. You waited and waited for a minute or two but the doors never opened but you were joined by sir leanor and he gladly took you into his arms seeing your distress. “My dear ease your mind, no need to be worried let the thoughts drain out.” His soft voice hushed you and you hadn’t noticed everything becoming calm and quiet.

You sigh of relief and pulled back as he brushed your hair and he said asked you “Better?” You nodded along and offered his a smile. “Better.” In times of panic you often find yourself being calmed by your family. He was one of them. He pushed the doors open and you followed behind him while walking into her quarters. “A boy? Well done.” The pride in your heart that you had a new baby nephew blinded your head.

“Why are you walking.” His question pulled you out of your happiness for a moment seeing her limp in pain. “She wishes to see him.” You looked up at her confused. “Who?” You asked while she looks down at you and a light smile appears. “Your mother.” Confused you followed behind while listening to them and you stood behind rhaenrya incase you had to catch her if she falls. But she had other plans as she turned back to you and he followed, “I do believe you are needed by your teacher.” You shook your head no but she placed a caring hand on your cheek.

“I will let you hold the babe later but now you must do your duties, my sweet girl.” Even though you didn’t want to leave her side it was best, even though you did not know the situation she was going into, you knew you wouldn’t be aloud to follow. “Keep her safe leanor,” kissing the babies head and giving a final goodbye you walked off to your training hall. 

After training you had hoped to watch the boys train with your father as you had hope to give him company. He was getting worse over the years and it left a pit in your stomach knowing you’d lose him before you should but you still had time. “Father!” Yelling as you saw him sitting down over the edge of the wall next to his hand, Lyonel Strong he was Sir harwin father and you liked them both. Viserys brighten up and opened his arm out to you, kissing him on the cheek and giving him a small hug.

“How was training my sweet girl??” He asked. “As well as it can be though I am not sure my teacher sees it that way.” Humming you looked over at the training ground and saw your family. He nodded and laughed and told you that you’ll get better as time passes.

You saw Harwin bending down picking up the swords and other things while Cole walked to him but you couldn’t hear what was said. You watched as harwin froze then turned around to punch him in the face and you gasp. The scene played out and you gripped your dress as it got more violent and Harwin had to be pulled back as Coles face was blooded.

You heard him shout to ‘Say it again’ over and over while cole got up from the ground. “Take y/n to her mother.” Viserys told his hand but you shook your head, “No.” Before they could stop you, you had already taken off to the stairs and out into the grounds. The first one to see you was luke and he ran to hug you with Jace following. “Are you alright?” You asked both of them kindly.

“Princess you shouldn’t be here.” The bloody knight, cole stated. “I shall do as I wish no offensive, but I am not a weak maiden.” Rushing over to him you handed him your handkerchief and smirked. “Perhaps you remember the claw scar on your arm the last time we fought.” he just smiled and laugh. “I remember well princess.” He patted your head while looking at harwin as he glared at him back.

Showing the man that you came to his side before him to rub it in his face, there was tension again. “Let him go for a second.” You walked over to harwin and patted his hand, you waved your hand and he bent down. Everyone watched as you whispered something in his ear and as he smiled and laughed. You pulled back and they took him away.

“Secrets aren’t very nice, y/n.” Aegon yelled and walked over to you. “When have you ever cared about being nice?” He laughed at your response. “Have you come to train with me? Because these little boys know knowing.” He glanced at them and they rolled their eyes. You looked at him for a second and then your eyes got mischievous.

“Prepare to lose brother.” 

[cerisefait]

Dancing with hotd men

[headcanon] how I imagine jaecerys, daemon, aegon and aemond view dancing

Jaecerys tries his best

he tries to be the perfect son and heir for his mother, the queen.

so you best believe that he cares about all of his duties including dancing.

he sees it as a reflection of his, thus his house's manners.

with the help of his grandfather lord corlys and his grandmother rhaenys, he learned the delicacies of this art form.

he never imagined it but dancing actually became a secret passion of his; he loves how even the basic dance moves could form such an intimate connection.

how does he dance? well, he is very disciplined; his moves are smooth but his face is always stern.

It's not because he's not enjoying it, it's because he's too focused on both of your moves: he cares deeply about the way he is being perceived (being the eldest son of the rightful heir is hard work).

he loves to look deeply into your eyes and make you shine out of the both of you.

after the dance he always takes your hand and places a suave kiss on top of it like the gentleman he is.

Daemon steals you from your partner

he doesn't like to dance but he is good at it. he'd rather sit and watch you.

because he doesn't enjoy the idea of being in huge crowds, blending in. he always loves to steal the thunder with his chaotic actions.

so it's not a surprise that he steals your dance with your assigned partner and makes a scene.

he knows it'll cause gossips and drama but he doesn't care. all he cares about is his love and the fact that everyone knows you belong to him.

when it comes to dancing, he is not afraid of having a firm grip on you: it's one of the ways he shows his affection. it's -again- kind of a possesion thing.

it's more about what he feels than how he is perceived: his moves are still pleasing and smooth but it's all about being lost in the moment for him.

whenever you two dance, you fall in love with him again.

oh and he loves to touch foreheads, it makes him feel safe in your presence.

Aegon dances because its his duty

he doesn't enjoy dancing, he'd much rather sit at his king chair having alcohol served to him.

but being the king he is, he has responsibilities: to his people, his house, the realm. even though this wasn't his dream, he had to obey.

when he's sober, his moves are stiff: it's evident that he doesn't enjoy himself. it's your duty to console and guide him through it.

he usually puts on a happy face -which doesn't reach his eyes, yknow the one- and carries on, muttering curse words to himself.

but he lets you know how grateful he is for your presence here, with him.

fun fact: he does well when he's got a little bit of alcohol in him. he becomes all goofy and lovey dovey.

it only happens when you're alone in your chambers but you love to see that side of him.

Aemond watches you dance from afar

he's not a big fan. he finds combating etc more enjoyable than dancing so he never even learned the proper etiquette of dancing.

he also thinks it's a bit childish but when he sees you dance, it's over for him.

he loves the way you follow the rhythm, sway your body and enjoy yourself.

though he definitely becomes jealous of your partner and wishes to learn some of the dance moves so he could escort you.

not to show off in public ofcourse, he has this reputation of being a lone wolf: he's not a pda guy.

but he wants to be able to take you up to dance if he wanted to.

so he encourages you to teach him the basics in private; one time you layed your head on his shoulder while dancing and he was filled with joy.

he didn't show it to you but you knew his love for you. he didn't have to make grand gestures.

[lola-writes]

One-Eye & the Dreamer

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x O.C Aylana Velaryon

Word Count: 2,9k

Themes & Warnings: slow burn, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, violence, blood, targcest, sexual themes, tension, drama, angst, fix-it of sorts, eventual smut, sexual inexperience, forbidden love, high valyrian, dance of dragons, POV first person

Summary: Aylana Velaryon foresees Aemond Targaryen's fate and assigns herself to alter it.

Written from Aemond and Aylana's POV.

Chapter 1 (Prologue)

Chapter 2 (Aemond)

Chapter 3 (Aylana)

Chapter 4 (Aylana)

- AYLANA –

I want a trouble-maker for a lover; blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame, who quarrels with the sky and fights with fate, who burns like fire on the rushing sea.

The celebration was a suffocating spectacle. Meaningless chatter swirled around me like dust motes in a sunbeam, while servants drifted through the masses with food and drink, but the tension never abated. It sat there, uninterrupted. Like an echo before the words were even spoken. 

Parched, I plucked a goblet from a passerby tray and secluded myself in the shade, twisting uncomfortably in my gown.

In that same moment, I watched the Queen return to the godswood. The masses parted from her course like waves before a storm. She strolled right up to her first-born who was nigh-on asleep in his chair at this point. A curt exchange, a forceful tug on his arm, and the heir to the throne stumbled out of the gardens, escorted by two King’s Guard. 

“She looks unhappy, do you not think?” Jace had materialized beside me, plopping a grape into his mouth. 

“Who?” I stifled, feeling as if though the heat had thickened my mind to mush, because I swore there was two of him. 

“Helaena,” he said blatantly. 

My eyes found the poor girl at the edge of the garden, a flurry of nervous energy. Her hands danced in a silent, rapid rhythm, a desperate attempt to soothe the storm within.

“Well, I would be too if I were engaged to my brother. Or even worse, to Aegon,” I laughed, nudging his shoulder, to which Jace rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not funny,” he parried, “She looks positively miserable. We should do something.” 

I raised a brow and turned to my brother, smiling slyly in equal disbelief and mockery, “What are we to do, dear brother? Kidnap her? Take her with us to Dragonstone? Do be serious.” 

Jace shot me a look and shook his head in realization. 

“Besides,” I proceeded, “I don’t believe happiness would touch any of the Greens with a five-foot stick.”

Jace scoffed and fixed me with a disapproving glare. He really did have a heart of gold and I chastised myself for being so insensitive. There was no disputing that the Greens were not as we had left them. A deep sadness settled around them like a poisonous mist, though Helaena appeared to bear the brunt of its affliction.

Alicent grabbed hold of Aemond next, her fingers digging into his leather sleeves, her air vibrating with repressed worry. Aemond listened intently, a flicker of defiance warring with a deeper concern in his face, though he spoke to her softly, listening attentively to her wishes, but by the look of it, he was being castigated. He caught my gaze then, a spark of surprise before a steely resolve settled in his stare. My own breath hitched in my throat as our eyes locked for a heartbeat, a silent exchange that crackled with something unspoken. 

I looked away.

“Is everything well, sister?” Jace peered at me with eyes the color of a huntsman’s hound, rimmed with the most genteel glint. 

“Naturally,” I forced a smile, pulling on my skirts. There was no denying the heat. The thick, moist air covered the city like a woolen blanket. 

No breeze. No respite. Just the broiling sun.

“They’ve been gone a long time,” Luke appeared at his brother’s side with an ominous plea, wiping his upper lip. 

I looked at him quizzically.

“Mother and Daemon,” he clarified.

Though, they had been absent all but ten minutes, my youngest brother had grown timorous beneath the scrutiny of the Greens.

“I’m sure they’ll be along,” I reassured him, though my voice must have lacked conviction.

“We shall go find them,” said Jace with great solicitude.

With the jolted realization that I’d be left all alone, I grabbed Jacaerys by the arm. “Do not,” I blurted out, a bit too loudly than I had intended.

“We won’t be long, sister,” Jace consoled. 

“Our presence is of greater service than our absence.” My heart hammered strangely against my ribs as they turned to leave.

“Which is why you will remain here.” 

Before I could protest further, Jace and Luke melted into the throng, leaving me nonplussed and perturbed, a chill whispering across my skin in the heat.

A longing gnawed at me as I gazed across the glittering waters below the city, out of which our volcanic island sprung a mere thirty-minute flight away. I shamed myself for faltering so easily. A one-eyed eunuch with a grudge and a court full of Greens shouldn’t be enough to dismay me. 

Faint laughter followed by sounds of plunges and splashes could be heard down below. Women swam naked in the river, right beneath the castle. I grew acutely aware of the sweat leaking out of me in hot pulses, the heat clinging to me like a second skin, and the new dress that Mother had made me wear was not exactly helping my affliction. 

What I would give to be low born for a day.

A low voice, rich with an accent that hinted at sun-baked sands, startled me out of my musings, “With beauty like that you’ll leave cities in ruin.” His accent exposed what his complexion would otherwise suggest. But my train of thought was cut short when I met his heavy gaze.

Dark eyes, rimmed by thick black lashes, his skin olive and his hair gleamed like onyx in the summer sun. He donned a golden robe of samite, fitted tight around his waist by a jeweled belt, adorned by the sigil of Sunspear. A sharp rush of reservation ran down my spine. 

“A Dornishman in the capital is a rare sight,” I remarked, disregarding the honeyed words that coated his flattery. 

“Indeed.” Something amused and dangerous played in his eyes as he wafted a hand by his face. “We don’t like the smell,” he grinned, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

A wry smile tugged at my lips. I could hardly disagree with him about that. 

The stifling heat might have been unbearable, though the city’s stench was masked somewhat by the prince’s cologne – a curious mix of citrus and spice, like a desert oasis after a long journey.

“Prince Marius Martell,” he rumbled, his voice as rich and warm as Dornish sand. He pressed soft lips to my knuckles, dark eyes never leaving mine, “At your service.”

The son of Qoren Martell of Dorne - a traitor to the Crown, some say.

Their people were said to be descendants of the Rhoynar. 

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. 

And rightfully so, because they had never been conquered, and bent the knee to no king. Not even Aegon the Conqueror who united all of Westeros could bring Dorne to heel. Their independence had always sparked a thrill in me, though their reputation at court was as one might expect.

“I’ve been told that to trust a Martell is to be disappointed.”

He laughed. It was such a big, hearty, exuberant laugh, it came as a surprise. He tilted his head to the side. “Princess Aylana,” he chuckled, his timber disarming. “You Targaryens take yourselves far too seriously.”

My name on his lips caught me off guard.

“Your father joined forces with the Triarchy against Prince Daemon for control of the Stepstones some years ago, did he not?”

Prince Marius gazed out over the open water with a devilish smirk still plastered on his lips. “Dorne and the Crown has rarely seen eye to eye, it’s true”, he said. “But surely we have the right to our own waters. Do you not agree?” His mouth expressed its words in a stretching and sort of rolling manner, providing them with surprising weight, entrancing me like a siren’s call. “Besides,” he continued, and clicked his teeth together. “That was some years ago, was it not?” he smirked, echoing my words for a playful comeback. 

It was impossible not to be charmed by him, with his Dornish drawl and inquiring eyes. It felt like I knew everything about him, yet not a single thing at the same time. 

He spoke of his homeland with a passion that ignited a fire in my chest, reciting the histories, legends, and customs of his people, and I came to realize he was from another world entirely. A world painted in vibrant hues, vastly different from the courtly intrigues that choked King’s Landing. A world where bastards were not despised and daughters had as much of a claim as sons. 

It was riveting. 

A prickle of unease danced on my skin. My gaze flickered to Aemond as if I’d felt him watching me. His eye was burning me. His fingers trailing the hilt of his dagger like strings on a fiddle, playing the tune of its blade across my neck. My hand travelled instinctively to the blooming crimson. 

“You’ve been hurt.” Prince Marius’ words snapped me back to attention. I whirled away, the movement a touch too swift, a touch too desperate. 

“Dragons can be unpredictable creatures,” I offered tersely, an attempt of a smile on my lips. My mother’s words echoed in my head, a cruel reminder,

Know that you’re a terrible liar.

But it wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

“That may be,” he drawled. “Though, unlikely to wield a blade.” He watched me with an inquisitive gaze, his perceptiveness sending a tremor through me.

“My sword is yours to command if you reveal the culprit.” Prince Marius drawl dipped a notch lower, duress coating his voice, as if he had not heard my explanation, or simply ignored it as a response of a silly girl.

For the briefest second, I genuinely believed he was a mind reader and I fought so hard not to let my eyes travel back to the source of my injury. Prince Marius’ sudden resolve tickled opposite emotions out of me, and I laughed. 

But the prince of Dorne did not jest. He stood there, unmoving, waiting on his command like a sellsword.

My laugh fell short. “That will not be necessary,” I assured him. Though, I had to admit that his sudden determination to root out my enemies without the slightest hesitation brought me satisfaction and comfort. 

Perhaps a Martell could be trusted, after all. 

I watched his mien soften to my reassurance. 

“How long do you plan to remain in King’s Landing?” I asked, attempting to sway the conversation in a different direction.

“Until the tourney, princess,” he replied. He was to join the tournament list? “Though everything after depends.” 

“On what?”

His gaze locked with mine for a beat too long as a secretive smile spread across his lips. “On you.” The words dripped from his lips like honeyed wine. 

My cheeks flushed and nerves played beneath my skin.

On me?

He bowed deeply and kissed my knuckles valedictory, before disappearing through the press of bodies.

The boldness of Prince Marius, it seemed, had thrown open the gates for every lord of a noble house to present themselves to me. Lannisters, with their gilded smiles and promises of influence. Tyrells, draped in silks, whispering of wealth. Baratheons, booming with hearty laughter and boasts of strength. Tullys, with an air of cautious calculation, and even a Greyjoy, his presence a salty reminder of the unforgiving sea. Taking their turn one after the other. It was overwhelming. Each echoing their house words in the stale air like hollow promises. Each offered a variation on the same theme: a plea for favor at the upcoming tourney, and requests to spare a dance at the wedding feast in two days’ time. The sheer volume of it all threatened to drown me.

“Cregan Stark of Winterfell.” A young lord, no older than myself, bowed deeply before me in black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather, making him appear curiously feral amongst courtiers in delicate fabrics.

His forehead glistened with beads of sweat, and though his face remained stoic, a flicker of discomfort danced in his blue eyes.

“You’re far away from home, Lord Stark,” I said, offering him a gentle smile. “How are you faring in King’s Landing?”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Implausibly hot, princess,” he rumbled, his northern accent wafting me like a welcomed breeze.

“On that we agree.”

He was beautiful in a stark kind of way. In the way snow glaze mountains, and the way ice reflect the first rays of dawn.

“Please accept this gift as an apology for the namedays I’ve missed, and as a token of my fealty to you, and to your family.” Ser Cregan’s hulking bannerman lumbered forward, the leather leash creaking in his grip as he unveiled a magnificent white wolfhound. “I’ve heard how much you adore the creatures.”

A gasp escaped my lips before I could contain it, as I observed the majestic beast at my feet.

“May she offer you comfort and protection,” he continued, adding weight to the word, and if it wasn’t for the bliss I was currently basking in, I would’ve grown coy. 

I could only imagine the state of myself from his view – a scarred face and a slashed neck. 

Must’ve been a sight.

“This is a most generous gift, my Lord,” I managed, my voice thick with a sudden rush of emotion. I dropped to my haunches and allowed the hound to sniff me. Her fur, the color of a winter blizzard, was matted and dusty from travel, a stark contrast to the pristine white of her glacier eyes. Her chest heaved with exertion, a giant pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was clearly parched. How long had she been out here?

“See to it she has water and a bath,” I commanded a nearby maidservant, and watched as the girl scurried into the castle with the panting hound. 

“I shall be watching your prowess at the tourney on the morrow, my Lord,” I declared with a smile. 

Lord Cregan dipped his head. “Thank you, princess, but I am not on the list. I will join merely as a spectator.”

“Very well,” I said. “I shall save you a dance at the feast.”

“I don’t dance, princess,” he rumbled, a hint of apology battling with his natural stoicism. “But if you find yourself in need of… meaningful conversation,” he offered, “I am at your service.” A ghost of a smile lingered on his lips for a moment before he bowed once more, and took his leave with his bannermen in heel, leaving me feeling oddly dissatisfied.

As the throng thinned and the servants descended upon the revelry’s remnants, I found myself beneath the white oak tree. Its bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. A face had been carved into its trunk, and its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines wrestled beneath the soil. Birds sang their melodies from hidden nests and brought a sereness to my overwhelmed mind, but the thumps of a cane against stone made my skin crawl.

“We have missed you, princess. I dare say, none has sparked the court alight quite like you these past years. Not even your mother when she was your age,” Lord Larys Strong drawled.

A tight smile played on my lips, a flimsy shield against the disdain bubbling within me. “You flatter me, my Lord.” The image of feet flashed before my eyes, and I had to do everything in my power not to gag.

“I must offer my condolences on the passing of Ser Harwin,” he said, his voice laced with venom, “You were so very close growing up. Even as a babe you were special to him. The gods are cruel.”

My jaw tightened. “He was your brother, Lord Larys. I believe it is I who should offer my condolences,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

Larys lifted a shoulder and stacked his hands atop the head of his cane, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm. “Grief, princess, is a tapestry woven with many threads. One person’s sorrow does not diminish the anguish of another.”

I met his gaze, a challenge flickering in my eyes. “Is it such grief, after all?” my voice was barely above a whisper, “You took his place as the new Lord of Harrenhal.” 

My statement hung heavy in the air. 

Larys looked at me as if I’d hit him over the head with my goblet. But I knew he was full of shit. 

“Sharp as a winter wind, as always, princess,” he said, almost in a state of admiration, as a grin tugged at his lips. 

The nausea I felt rising in my throat had nothing to do with the wine. Rolling my eyes, I gazed up into the crown of the heart tree, its face looking like it wailed in agony.

“They say the children of the forest carved the faces in the weirwoods during the dawn, centuries before the coming of the First Men across the Narrow Sea.”

Trying to dissociate from Lord Larys’ strenuous tale, I caught Aemond’s lingering gaze over my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but notice that he had not touched a scrap of food, nor drunk a drop of wine since our earlier encounter. 

A spark of triumph ignited in my chest – I had rattled him. 

But whether this unexpected advantage would prove to be a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

More chapters

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hiiii, could you do an aemond one shot where the reader is rhaenyra's and harwins daughter and she is married to jacaerys but just like her mother all her children are her lovers aka Aemond's but she's more open about their relationship. Like Rhaeynra has ignore it because she has had bastard children too even tho she's dying in the inside. Also Jacaeyrs will be king so "their" children will be heirs. I just live for the drama lol.

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Aemond x Niece!reader

summary: reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwins daughter and she is married to jacaerys but just like her mother all her children are her lovers aka Aemond's but she's more open about their relationship. Like Rhaenyra has ignore it because she has had bastard children too even tho she's dying in the inside. Also Jacaerys will be king so "their" children will be heirs.

Word count: 1,3K

Warnings: Angst, smut, P in V, infidelity

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Do you really have to go?" Aemond whined, holding you close by the waist. His fingers kneading the flesh of your hips loving the extra weight added there from your last pregnancy wit your youngest, Aegor who was now two moons old.

"You know I do Aemond, the queen requested my presence" Your fingers threaded through his hair massaging his scalp. He whimpered at the pressure, his cock was slowly hardening again even though he had just emptied his load inside of you less than fifteen minutes ago.

"Will your husband be there?" Aemond asked. His hands slowly slithered down to your bottom groping the flesh. You gasped shocked by the harshness of his touch, you loved it so freaking much.

"Naturally as the father of Daerion he is requested for the preparations of his nameday" You pulled back to look down at his face. His head rested on the pillows with his hair around his head like a hallow of blonde-white hair. His eyepatch was nowhere to be found and his sapphire gleamed in the morning light.

"Another feast I presume" Aemond smirked as his thrusted his hips up earning a squeak from you. His cock was still stuffed inside of you growing harder by the second, your mere presence made him hard.

"Which reminds m-me of y-yesterday's feast. Did you really have to ngh flirt with that Baratheon girl?" You moaned throwing your head back with each move of his hips. You could not help but join his movement, rolling your hips before picking yourself to jump on his cock up and down, searching for your relief.

"Jealous are we?" Aemond teased rolling you over below him. He moved your legs to wrap around his waist so he could thrust deeper inside of you. You were used to him, all of him from all angles and positions and you loved every single one of them, every single inch you took inside of you.

"I just see that it was super unnecessary" You tried excusing your words. Aemond gave a particularly hard thrust, the sound of his balls meeting your ass made heat rise up to your cheeks. You cried out holding him closer. He leaned down to mouth as your neck making sure to nibble hard enough to leave marks for his sister to see.

"Just admit you are jealous" Aemond whispered in your ear, picking up his pace knowing you did not have much time together and you were needed to prepare for your son's nameday celebration.

"So what, you are mine and mine alone and I get to be jealous over you" You hissed. Aemond chuckled against your ear before a moan of his own slipped through to join your moans and cries of pleasure, he was near. You did not care who heard or who saw, you knew everyone knew of this happening. You heard the whispers and the talking so you did not give a rat's ass. Sometimes you would even spend the whole day in the gardens with Aemond and your children in front of people, you did not care. You were the wife of the heir who accepted your children and loved them as if they were his own making them legitimate, no one can say anything.

"It was only for show in front of your mother, my love" Aemond assured. Your fingers slid down his back as punishment making angry red lines down his back. He whimpered at the pain, he loved it so much. You cried throwing your head back as you spasmed around his cock, releasing your cum around his length. He followed you soon after shooting his white hot cum deep inside of your womb.

"I love you"

I love you too"

You and Jace married when you were very young, your relationship was neutral and still is. You tried doing your duty, many times but it only left you disappointed every time your moon's blood showed up and realised that one of you was barren. You wanted to see if it was you so you formed a plan in your head to seduce someone and sleep with them and Aemond was the man you chose. You did not see yourself falling for him but when he became attentive to you from the very beginning, it was inevitable. When you fell pregnant you immediately told Jace, not wanting his hopes to go up, he surprisingly understood.

Your eldest was born nine moons after with your uncle's white-blonde hair unlike yours and Jace's dark locks. You were terrified and to ease your mind Jace joked that your mother's gene finally one and shined through in your child. Your mother thought that was true, and she loved Daerion more than anything in the world. You and Jace made an agreement that whatever was happening between you and Aemond can resume if he gets to start an affair of his own with Sara Snow, you liked the bastard of the north she was a nice girl, you agreed whole heartedly wanting only the best for your brother.

A year later your daughter Saerra followed with the same white-blonde hair and her father's nose. your mother grew even more suspicious then especially when you asked for Aemond to hold the babe instead of Jace. When her brother held the girl so close she could finally see the resemblance. A gasp tore through her throat and her face hardened but then she noticed the way Jace hugged you and kissed your head, YOUR HEAD, not even bothering to kiss your lips in front of her.

She opened her eyes then and watched the way you three acted. She noticed the closeness between Jacaerys and the Snow girl. She noticed the way they usually took walks together in the garden while you were nowhere to be found. She noticed the way you and Jace never shared a room and sometimes moans could be heard from your rooms at the same time, you two were fucking other people.

Only recently came your second son, Aegor, brown hair like your and brown eyes like yours but he had Aemond's face. She had no doubt that when he grew up the only thing that will make her tell them apart would be their hair colour.

"Apologies for being late, Aegor was fussy" You lied as you slid down beside Jace on the couch. Your mother's eyes narrowed at you, she knew you were lying she was with her grandson only half an hour ago.

"Is he alright, sister?" Jace asked. He worried for his nephew, he was still family. That is what you loved about Jace, he was always attentive as well but in a brotherly way and not the Targrayen brotherly way.

"Oh yes brother, a little cold" You shrugged him off. You two were not even bothering to call each other pet names like couples do, no my love, no my husband/wife, no dear, nothing. Rhaenyra downed her wine knowing she had no right to judge or point out any of this having had bastards of her own.

"Shall we begin?" She hissed sitting down and crossing her arms. Daerion was turning five namedays soon and it was time to prepare for the celebrations.

"I wish this year for a quiet celebrations, I would be heavily pregnant during his birthday" You said. Your mother's eyes widened at your revelation. This time you and Jace did not even bother to stage a fake bedding for the servants she planted for you, she did not receive any news of you two visiting each other.

"Oh what a wonderful morning" Jace pulled you in for a hug. He was truly happy for you to have found love and had started a family. He loved having nephews and nieces, he can imagine them as his one since he could not have his own children. You eyes your mother who looked ready to burst, face red with anger and eyes wide while her hands were fisting her dress tightly, you smirked daring her to speak, daring her to reveal the truth that everyone knew.

[jacevelaryonswife]

As a good wife should

It all started with an innocent hand just above the knee.

∴pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

∴warnings and a note: male receiving, also, english is not my first language

jacaerys velaryon masterlist

It all started with an innocent hand just above the knee. It was your first time being together with your husband's family in full, you were nervous but not as nervous as he was. The Targaryen drama was very dull and unfortunately your husband was involved in the dispute between the queen and princess's retinues, after all he was the next in line of succession after his mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and for someone as dedicated and obstinate as Jace, every minute should be well spent. And for him, by his nature, the duty to prove himself a worthy heir to the crown was even more challenging. Because of these factors, it was to be expected that returning to King's Landing would have left him on edge, even though he had fond memories of the place.

However, it was not like you to leave your good husband in such conditions.

Soon, the once comforting touch that reassured him became bold as your hand gradually moved up his leg, making him tense and a little red in the cheeks.

"Why are you nervous? There's no reason for that,” you asked quietly, keeping your touch discreet. "Just stay calm." Your breathy voice coupled with the grip very close to his intimate area made him breathe harder.

You knew exactly what and with whom you were doing it. Jace was a polite and perfectly well-mannered man, overly polite at times, which always led him to behave properly. But you were you after all, and he could scold you all he wanted, in the end, he loved your average recklessness in contrast to his rigidity.

“Not here, my love,” he chided, as low as your tone.

Again, you are you, so, discreetly lowering your hand, you quietly whispered:

"It's curious the way Prince Aemond looks obsessively at you, it's as if he wants to be in my place."

“Or stick a sword in me,” he replied sourly.

“Looks like we came to an agreement.”

He rolled his eyes, refusing to laugh at the double feeling raised by you. He always loved your cheeky sense of humor.

“Or maybe he's just jealous that no lady will ever touch him the way I touch you, the way I kiss you, the way I love you.” Your hand stopped mid-thigh and squeezed sensually.

And then he noticed the look you were directing him. That look. He knew perfectly well what it meant.

“We mustn't discuss such matters at the table, my pretty wife,” he teased, a smile daring to appear as he relaxed again — although your hand was still in an unsuitable region for the moment.

“Don't worry, we have plenty of time after dinner.”

You loved your husband's sweetness and politeness, especially in private. While ever firm, Jace had no problem giving up his seat for you to take over, which was genuinely great. Then, walking down the hall with your hand on his arm, you placed a sweet kiss on his temple and played with the soft dark strands, smiling passionately. A genuinely caring act, but once you entered your chambers the dynamic changed considerably. You grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him into a demanding, sensual kiss that was returned immediately, one heavy hand holding your waist and the other encircling your back. He was tense, frustrated, as if he carried the weight of a thousand swords on his shoulders and the only way to lighten that burden was to be in your arms, and particularly, you were more than happy to help. So when Jace pulled away from your lips to kiss your soft neck, you let out a long sigh, stopping yourself from enjoying yourself too much by saying:

“Today is about you, my love, not about me.”

“What do you mean?" He asked confused, eyes confused and lips red and swollen.

A sly smile was his response as you guided him until the back of his back legs hit the bed. What you did next utterly shocked him, eyes almost wide as he saw his wife on her knees with her hands resting on both thighs.

“That's what I mean,” your hand massaged his groin and made him groan, opening his pants to expose your husband's manhood.

“My love, are you sure?” He sighed heavily.

You had never done this before, but you asked one of your maids who had a considerable background on the silk street for directions. The thought of pleasing Jacaerys like that was too delicious not to try, so you looked at him with mock innocence as you said:

“Absolute. Let me satisfy you, husband, as a good wife should.”

And so, you took the warm member in your hand and began to move it up and down, seeing and feeling it stiffen as your touch continued. It was experimental, but the positive sounds from him were encouraging for what came next. When the length of him was erect and proud, you licked your lips and leaned in to take the bulbous, swollen part in your mouth, making him moan loudly and cup the sides of your head involuntarily. All of his noises, from the loudest to the most guttural, made your flower tingle with heat. When you sucked and ran your tongue over the tiny opening he was sure he went to the seven heavens and back, letting an even louder sound escape.

A rare curse was said by him, closing his eyes to lose himself in the wonder you provided him. Your mouth grew bolder and you reached for more of him with every rise and fall, removing the hand that was masturbating him and gripping his thighs for support. It looked profane, a real sin that should horrify him, but how could it be wrong if it felt so good? So hot and wet, like your delicate womanhood. The sight alone brought him closer to the edge, with all the praise of her mouth warming and enveloping him and the look in her eyes shamelessly confronting him.

You sucked and licked him calmly, still reluctant to hurt him with your teeth, keeping a steady pace to satisfy and relax your beautiful Jacaerys.

He held and massaged your hair, making every effort to stay upright as you made him feel so good, so fucking good. But whatever composure he held was broken when your hand groped and teased with his jewelry, bringing him to the climax so unexpectedly fast that his breath hitched and he almost fell forward, letting out the hottest moan he'd ever had before. The whole situation was exciting enough, but watching you take his seed on your tongue was surreal and left him in pure bliss, all tension and previous resentment pushed aside to emerge in the hot pleasure you had provided.

Smiling at your good work, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rose to face him, "do you like it, husband?"

"Where did you learn this?" Was all he said before grabbing your waist and flipping you over on the bed, laying on top of you, still panting and sweaty through your clothes.

"With a friend."

May the seven bless her, he thought.

“I guess now it's my turn to give back to my beautiful wife.”

jacelist: @howyouloveyourdragon @damatheirin @valeskafics (kyle’s pride!)

[kckt88]

Hidden In Plain Sight.

Summary:

The dance is done and Aemond has been crowned King, after being pressured by his council he followed through on his marriage to Floris Baratheon. However Aemond holds no love for the wife that he was forced to take and instead continues to seek the company of his true love, his niece Jacaera.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Langauage, Reference to Captivity, References to Smut, Infidelity, Character Death, Manipulation, Scheming.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C NIECE

Word Count: 8419

GREENS WIN - AEMOND IS KING!!

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.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

"Another one—have you no shame, Aemond? What of your wife?" fumed Alicent, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Aemond's eye remained fixed on the dark liquid in his cup, swirling it gently. He had no love for Floris Baratheon, the wife forced upon him by his mother and the council after the war.

Floris, with her Baratheon blood and boring demeanour, could never compare to his niece, his beloved sweet Jacaera.

Aemond's thoughts drifted to Jacaera, the warmth of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed and the way she would gasp and moan his name as he feasted on her delicious cunt like a man starved, or how she looked when she peaked around his cock.

Although he would never forget the look of hurt on her face when he told her that he would have to follow through on his promise and take Floris as his wife.

He explained that he held no care or love for Floris, that she would never have his heart he had begged for her mercy, for her understanding, and she eventually granted it. His dragoness was vicious with him that night, clawing at his body and sinking her teeth into his flesh as he fucked her hard.

Not too long after his wedding, Jacaera had given him the news that she was with child, and it pleased him immensely.

He had granted her rooms in one of the towers in the Red Keep, keeping her away from the eyes of his lady wife, who he held no interest for.

He would visit his niece often, admiring her belly swollen with his seed. He would spend hours curled up with her, his hands running over her soft flesh, feeling the babe within move.

He was truly blessed the day she birthed his babe, marvelling at the wonderous gift she had granted him, not one but two babes. His sons, his little dragons.

Oh, how perfect they were, their silver hair and amethyst eyes.

He cared not for the opinions of his council, his mother or even his wife who’s face quickly soured with jealousy when word of his sons reached her.

Admittedly she did try to be a good Queen and wife, but it was all for naught, for his heart, mind and soul belonged to Jacaera.

Every moment he was not attending to his duty as King he was with his sons, determined to be the father he never had, his sons would know of him, the would know of his love and they would know above all that they were wanted.

"-Aemond, are you even listening to me?" Alicent's voice brought him back to the present. Her green eyes were fierce, a storm brewing within them.

He looked up at his mother, his expression calm despite the turmoil around him. "I hear you, Mother," he replied, his voice steady. "But what is done is done”

Alicent's face contorted with frustration and sorrow. "Your actions have consequences, Aemond. You cannot simply disregard your responsibilities. Floris is your wife, and you have a duty to her."

"Duty," Aemond repeated, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "All I’ve done is my duty and where has that got me? Where has that got us? the war has taken its toll, on us and the realm. What about my duty to myself? To my own happiness?"

Alicent shook her head, her voice softening. "Happiness, Aemond, comes with sacrifice. Your rule as King is precarious, your Queen is not with child-the council ceaselessly whisper about your lack of heir”.

“The fault is not mine, as I seem to have no trouble siring children with Jacaera-“

“Perhaps if you lay with your wife more often than that bastard girl, then you would be blessed with trueborn children."

Aemond's grip tightened on the cup. "Floris does not rouse my-interest. You knew I never wanted her. Yet you and the rest of the dogs on the council forced her upon me, knowing where my heart truly lies."

Alicent's eyes narrowed. "Matters of the heart do not compare to the matters of the realm. Your known taste for strong bastards only serves to bring shame and embarrassment to your reign."

The veiled reference to his rumoured involvement with the witch Alys Rivers did not go unnoticed. Aemond's jaw clenched, but he refused to be swayed. "I will not set aside Jacaera."

Alicent paced the length of Aemond's chambers, her fury barely contained. The girl should have been executed the moment she was brought to the Red Keep, but Aemond's obsession for her had prevented such an act. He had pleaded with Aegon to let him keep her, and to her utter horror, Aegon had agreed.

Aemond would then spend hours sequestered away in his chambers with the bastard girl.

Sometimes, Alicent would receive reports of raised voices and the sounds of things being thrown, the maids witness to the destruction of their arguments.

But then there would be reports of noises of pleasure, unmistakable and shameless. Aemond's need for Jacaera was evident, and he showed no concern for discretion, not then and certainly not now.

Alicent's face twisted with disgust “You are shameless in your need for her."

Aemond's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his features. "Jacaera is not the monster you paint her to be. She is—"

"A vicious seductress who has bewitched my favoured son!" Alicent cut him off, her voice rising. "She is nothing more than a remnant of Rhaenyra's treachery. You disgrace yourself and your reign by keeping her."

Aemond stood, his tall frame towering over his mother. "My reign, Mother. Not yours. And I will decide what brings disgrace and what does not-Jacaera is mine, and I will not set her aside."

Alicent's shoulders sagged slightly, the fight seeming to drain out of her. "You are blind, Aemond. Blind to the destruction this will bring."

Aemond turned away, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand. "I am not blind, Mother. I see clearly. And what I see is Jacaera by my side."

Alicent's heart ached with a mother's anguish, knowing her words had fallen on deaf ears. She turned and left the chambers, the sound of the door closing echoing the finality of their argument.

Aemond strode down the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep towards the tower where Jacaera and their children lived.

His anticipation of seeing his beloved and their children was already spreading through his body, his eagerness to see them saw him taking the steps two at a time.

He passed the guards lined up again the walls of the corridor, bowing their heads respectfully as he passed by.

The guards standing outside the doors quickly moved aside, as he approached.

As soon as the doors opened and he entered the room, he was greeted with a loud chorus of "Daddy!"

Rhaegar and Aerys, his two-year-old sons, reached out for him with bright, eager eyes. Aemond's stern demeanour softened, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he lifted both of his sons into his arms.

Both boys nuzzled into him, their small hands clutching at his tunic. The warmth of their affection filling him with a rare sense of peace.

He looked over at Jacaera, who was sitting on one of the sofas, gods how beautiful she was, wavy dark hair and amethyst eyes with a hand was pressed against her slightly rounded stomach, a sign of the new life growing within her.

For all the turmoil and disapproval from his mother and the court, here in this room, with Jacaera and their sons, he found a sanctuary, a place where he wasn’t bound by duty, a place where he wasn’t the King, a place where he was just Aemond.

Jacaera looked towards him and smiled, beckoning him over with a flick of her wrist.

Aemond crossed the room, settling beside Jacaera while still holding the boys. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice softened by concern.

"Better now that you're here," Jacaera replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

Aemond smiled as he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice steady but carrying a hint of reluctance.

"I need to go to Harrenhal for a couple of days," he began, his voice steady. "I'll ensure there are sufficient guards here. If you desire to take the boys into the gardens, you may do so."

Jacaera's expression shifted slightly, concern flickering in her eyes. "Will you be safe?"

"I will," he assured her, squeezing her hand gently. "But there is something else I need to tell you. My mother has been pressuring me about having children with Floris."

Jacaera visibly tensed, her discomfort clear. She glanced at their sons, then back at Aemond. "Can we have one of the nannies take the boys to their bedroom to play with their toys?"

Aemond nodded, calling for a nanny to escort Rhaegar and Aerys out. Once the boys were gone, Jacaera turned to Aemond, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

"I do not wish to hear about your wife. I don’t want to think of you laying with her."

Aemond’s heart clenched at the pain in her voice. He reached out, pulling her into his arms. "Jacaera, please," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "You know where my heart truly lies."

She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It doesn’t make it any easier, Aemond. Knowing you have to be with her, even if you don't want to. It hurts."

Aemond held her tightly, stroking her hair. "I hate it too. But you are the one I love, the one I want to be with. This is not easy for me either."

Jacaera buried her face in his chest, her body trembling with silent sobs. "I just want you here with me and the boys. I want us to be a proper family."

Aemond kissed the top of her head, wishing he could give her that simple, peaceful life. "I promise, I will always come back to you, and I promise that it won’t be for much longer, I have a plan-"

Floris stood silently on the balcony overlooking the gardens, her heart heavy with bitterness. Below, Jacaera played with Rhaegar and Aerys, their laughter and playful voices drifting up to where she stood.

The sight of her husband’s bastard children with Jacaera only served to inflame her jealousy. Aemond was her husband, yet he showed no interest in her, he would only speak to her when necessary and on the rare occasion when he did bed her, he wouldn’t grant her any lingering kisses or soft touches he would simply unlace his breeches, take her from behind and leave as soon as he spilled his seed.

One night she dared to follow him to the sprawling tower where he kept Jacaera and his bastard sons, and she watched through a crack in the door as he bid goodnight to his silver haired sons and then took Jacaera to bed.

She watched aghast as he sunk to his knees and worshipped Jacaera, his head between her legs as he devoured her, his lips pressing kisses to every inch of her skin, his hands caressing her, and finally his cock sheathed deep inside her.

The sway of his long silver hair and the taut of his muscles as he fucked his strong bastard mistress, his unrestrained moans and loud grunts of pleasure as he took her in a multitude of positions, the way his eye rolled back into his head as he spilled his seed inside her.

Never had she seen her husband in such a manner, and it made her all the more envious of that dark haired bastard, the whore thief who had stolen her husband-

Suddenly her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a cane tapping against the stone floor. Larys Strong approached, his presence as unsettling as ever.

He inclined his head slightly in greeting. "My Queen," he said, his tone smooth. "I bring news. The King has departed for Harrenhal on the back of Vhagar. He will return in a few days."

At the mention of Harrenhal, Floris’s curiosity was piqued. "Harrenhal?" she repeated, her voice tinged with suspicion. "Isn’t that where Alys Rivers resides?"

Larys' eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "Harrenhal is now indeed ruled by a woman. Aemond gifted it to her in gratitude for her-services."

Floris’s stomach churned. "And Aemond’s relationship with Alys?" she asked, dreading the answer.

Larys shrugged, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Merely rumours, Your Grace. But there is said to be a silver-haired child running around the halls of Harrenhal."

Floris' heart sank further, despair settling in her chest. Larys, ever the observer, added with a touch of sarcasm, "The King does seem to have particular tastes when it comes to women."

Floris looked away, her mind reeling. Her husband’s heart and loyalty seemed scattered, entangled with other women, other children. She felt trapped in a marriage that was little more than a political arrangement, her desires and needs cast aside.

Watching Jacaera and her sons below, she couldn’t help but envy the love and attention they received from Aemond, a love she feared she would never know.

Larys leaned closer to Floris, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You should not hold it against the King. Some men are weak to the wiles of women. My brother Harwin suffered a similar affliction when he became involved with Rhaenyra. It seems Jacaera has inherited her mother's ability to seduce men she shouldn't."

Floris' gaze remained fixed on Jacaera and the boys as they played in the garden below. Larys' words wrapped around her like a serpent's coil, feeding her resentment. "It is an insult for the King to sire children upon the undeserving," he continued, his tone methodical and cold. "To see him fawn over his bastard mistress while you, his rightful wife, are neglected."

Floris's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white with tension. "It would be easier if they weren't around," she murmured, almost to herself. "If Jacaera and her sons were gone, maybe Aemond would come to act as a husband should, and we could, in time, be happy."

Larys' smile was slow and calculating. "If that is truly your wish, Your Grace, then it shall be done."

Floris's heart pounded, a mix of fear and hope flooding her veins. She turned to look at Larys, a question in her eyes, but he simply nodded and hobbled away, the sound of his cane echoing through the air,

Aemond arrived at Harrenhal astride Vhagar, the colossal dragon's landing shaking the ground with tremendous force. Dust and debris swirled in the air as Vhagar's mighty wings beat one last time before folding. Aemond unhooked his riding chains and descended down the rope ladder with practiced ease.

A guard approached and bowed deeply. "Your Grace," he said respectfully. "How may I serve you?"

"I'm here to see the Lady Alys," Aemond replied curtly.

The guard nodded, understanding the gravity of the king's presence, and escorted him through the winding halls of Harrenhal to Alys’ covenstead.

The room was dimly lit, filled with shelves of jars containing unknown and mysterious ingredients. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and smoke.

Alys was sitting cross-legged before the fireplace, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. She looked up as Aemond entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I knew you would come," she said, her voice soft and eerie. "I saw it in the flames."

Aemond stepped closer, his expression serious. "I need more of the potion you gave me."

Alys rose gracefully and retrieved an ornate glass bottle from a high shelf, its contents shimmering in the firelight. She handed it to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Like I said—I knew you would come."

“Hmmm”

As Aemond took the bottle, Alys' tone shifted, her gaze piercing. "Is your Storm Queen aware of what you are doing?" she asked pointedly.

Aemond's jaw tightened slightly. "Floris is aware of my involvement with Jacaera. I've never hidden it from her."

Alys shook her head slowly, a wry smile playing on her lips as she motioned towards the bottle in his hand—the potion much stronger than moontea that would temporarily render Floris unable to bear children. "That's not what I'm referring to," she said softly. "Does it truly turn your stomach to lay with your lady wife and have your seed take root?"

Aemond hesitated, his gaze flickering. "She is not the woman I wish for-nor one I desire" he admitted finally, his voice low.

Alys leaned forward, her expression intense. "There are ways to rid yourself of her without degrading yourself in such a manner," she murmured, her voice laced with suggestion. "Your uncle was no stranger to the need to rid himself of his bronze bitch-perhaps his method could be of use to you”.

“As much as I have no love for my wife-I will not stand above her with a rock in hand-her inability to provide me with children will serve as reason enough to annul our marriage-leaving me free to wed Jacaera, as I should have done in the first place” said Aemond as he pocketed the bottle, his gaze lingering on Alys as she moved back to the fireplace.

She began muttering nonsensically, her hands weaving through the flames.

"What do you see?" Aemond asked, a mix of curiosity and impatience in his voice.

Alys's eyes flickered with an otherworldly light. "An opportunity to rid yourself of the undesired Queen will soon present itself," she said cryptically. "The firefly will do its work."

Aemond frowned, trying to decipher her words. "The firefly?" he repeated.

Alys nodded, her gaze distant and mystical. "Yes, the firefly. It will lead you to what you desire. But beware of those who walk in the shadows of truth and lies-false tongues and spilled blood- the sound of wood against the stone-"

Suddenly their discussion was interrupted by the creak of the door opening. A silver-haired child, small and curious, toddled in, calling out for his "mummy."

Alys' smile was warm and loving as she picked up the child, her green eyes glinting with maternal affection. The boy's gaze turned to Aemond, his innocence a stark contrast to the weight of the world around them.

Aemond greeted the boy kindly. "Aeron, I have something for you-for your recent name day" he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small wooden carving of a dragon.

Aeron's eyes lit up with delight as he took the gift, thanking Aemond with a shy smile before toddling out of the room again.

Alys watched her son leave with a fond smile before turning back to Aemond. "That was kind of you," she remarked softly.

Aemond's expression softened. "Whilst he is blood of the dragon, unfortunately it's the closest he will ever come to having a dragon of his own."

Alys nodded thoughtfully, her mind drifting to deeper thoughts. "Imagine the calamity the would ensue if the King were to grant a dragonseed a dragon's egg," she pondered aloud.

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly. "There are enough rumours about the boy as it is," he replied evenly. "There doesn't need to be any more."

Alys laughed lightly, the sound echoing softly in the room. "Ahh the absurdity of such rumours," she said with a shake of her head. "That you, are Aeron's sire-imagine if the people of the realm knew the truth-that my son belongs to Daemon.”

Aemond nodded thoughtfully at Alys' words. "The people of the realm like to make up stories," he murmured, almost to himself. "They tell each other these tales over and over until they forget that it's a lie."

Alys nodded knowingly, her expression grave. "Indeed, there are many lies in the game of thrones," she replied. "Be careful to what you pay attention, Your Grace."

Aemond absorbed her cautionary words, understanding the depth of her advice. Before he could respond, Alys continued with a sense of finality, "It's time for you to return to the Red Keep. The firefly has sown the seeds of discord, and you should return to see them bare fruit, but beware of the wood on stone-"

He offered Alys a nod of gratitude for the potion she had provided, a silent acknowledgment of their shared understanding.

As he turned to leave, his mind already drifting to the political machinations awaiting him in King's Landing, he didn't catch Alys' last quiet musing.

"You won't be needing it," she whispered, her voice lost to the crackle of the fire and the echoes of power that reverberated within the ancient walls of Harrenhal.

Aemond flew back to King's Landing atop Vhagar, the massive dragon's wings slicing through the sky with force. The journey was swift, driven by Aemond's urgency to return to Jacaera and his sons.

Upon landing, he dismounted Vhagar and made his way through the castle, his Kings guard following quietly behind him. He ascended the steps of the tower that led to Jacaera's chambers, noticing the unusual silence that enveloped the corridors. There were no guards on duty, an anomaly that sent a chill down his spine.

As he approached the door to Jacaera's room, he saw it was ajar. His instincts sharpened, and he unsheathed his sword, pushing the door open with caution. "Jacaera-Issa jorrāelagon?" he called out, his voice echoing in the unsettling quiet. "Rhaegar? Aerys? Byka zaldrīzoti " (My love, little dragons).

There was no answer, only a heavy, oppressive silence. He stepped into the room, his eye scanning the scene before him. Chaos reigned—chairs were overturned, glass lay shattered across the floor, and various belongings were strewn about.

But it was the sight of blood, dark and staining the floor, spilling in every direction, that froze Aemond in place.

"NO-" he cried out in horror, his heart breaking as he took in the carnage.

His Kings guard spread out, searching the room with grim efficiency, but there were no signs of Jacaera or the boys. The blood trail suggested a violent struggle, and Aemond's mind raced with the possibilities of what could have happened.

"Your Grace" one of the guards said, his voice grave. "There's no sign of them here. We must search the entire keep."

Aemond nodded, his face a mask of fury and despair. "FIND THEM” he commanded. "Search every room, every corner. Do not rest until they are found."

The guards moved quickly, leaving Aemond alone in the ruined room. He stared at the blood on the floor, a sickening mix of rage and helplessness churning within him.

Then as his gaze fell upon a familiar object he fell to his knees. It was Rhaegar's favourite stuffed dragon, the soft fabric now sticky with blood.

The sight of it broke something inside him. He picked up the teddy, cradling it to his chest, and let out a heart-wrenching sob.

"Rhaegar-Aerys-Jacaera" he whispered, his voice cracking with despair. The room around him seemed to blur as tears filled his eye. He clutched the bloodstained teddy tighter, the reality of the situation crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

Memories of his sons' laughter, their small hands reaching out for him, and Jacaera's smile flooded his mind. The thought of them suffering, of them being taken from him, was unbearable. His sobs turned into a guttural cry of rage and grief, echoing through the ruined chamber.

If his beloved Jacaera and his sweet sons were dead, then he would rip the world apart. He envisioned himself taking to the sky on Vhagar, raining fire and destruction upon the realm, leaving nothing but ash in his wake. No one would be spared his fury-no one.

Aemond was still on his knees, cradling the bloodstained teddy, when he heard the distinctive sound shuffling. He turned sharply, his eye narrowing as he saw Larys Strong standing in the doorway.

"They are safe, my King," Larys said, his voice calm and assured.

Aemond's reaction was immediate. He surged to his feet and seized Larys by the robes, his face a mask of fury and desperation. "Where are they?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous growl.

Larys met his gaze steadily. "They are with your mother”

Without another word, Aemond released Larys and raced from the room, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted through the corridors, his mind solely focused on reaching his mother’s chambers. He all but crashed through the door, his eye wild with panic.

There, in the corner of the room, huddled together, were Jacaera, Rhaegar, and Aerys. The sight of them brought tears of relief to his eye. "Jacaera!" he cried, his voice breaking as he rushed across the room.

Jacaera looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Aemond," she whispered.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close and breathing in her familiar scent. The warmth of her body against his brought a sense of peace he hadn't felt since he discovered the bloodied room. He clung to her, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

After a few minutes, he pulled back slightly and placed his hands on her face, tilting her head to look at her. He noticed a cut on her cheek and that she looked a little dishevelled, but otherwise, she was unharmed. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Jacaera nodded, her eyes searching his face. "I'm fine. The boys are fine too."

Aemond turned his gaze to Rhaegar and Aerys, who were clutching each other tightly. He knelt down and pulled them into his arms, holding them close. "Daddy's here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Daddy's here."

The boys clung to him, their small bodies trembling. Aemond closed his eye, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. They were safe. His family was safe.

Jacaera placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her, his eye filled with gratitude and love. "Thank the gods," he murmured, standing and pulling her into another embrace. "I thought I'd lost you."

She held him tightly, her voice steady despite the ordeal. "We're here, Aemond. We're safe."

Aemond nodded, his resolve strengthening. Whoever had orchestrated this would pay. But for now, all that mattered was that his family was safe in his arms.

His mother watched silently as she watched her son openly weep for Jacaera and their children, she had never seen this side of Aemond before and it stirred a number of unfamiliar feelings in her chest.

Aemond never displayed this kind of vulnerability to anyone, and it was a harsh reminder of his obvious feelings and closeness to Jacaera, and for the briefest of moments Alicent realised that pushing Aemond to marry Floris had been a mistake, that she should have been a mother first and supported her last surviving child in securing his heart’s desire, but instead she had allowed herself to be swayed by the whims of the council and now Aemond was trapped in a marriage he did not truly wish for just as she had been and her heart broke.

That night, Aemond did not sleep a wink. He brought Jacaera and the boys back to his personal chambers, ensuring they were safe and secure.

As they slept in his bed, Aemond sat beside them, watching over them with a vigilant gaze. The events of the day replayed in his mind, fuelling a mixture of relief and simmering rage.

A soft knock at the door had him instantly on alert. Rising to his feet, his hand curled around the hilt of his dagger, he moved quietly to the door. Opening it a crack, he saw Larys Strong standing there, his expression serious.

Casting a final look at the sleeping Jacaera and his sons, Aemond stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. "Well?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

Larys met his gaze steadily. "Your Grace, it would seem that Jacaera is no weakling woman. She defended her children with a mother's fury-”

In that moment Aemond thanked the gods that the time he had spent secretly training Jacaera with the sword had paid off, granted she wasn’t as proficient as he was but clearly it had been enough to save herself and their sons.

“-She managed to inflict grievous injuries on two of the intruders before they inevitably succumbed to the stranger in the secret passageways, and she managed to injure the third. The Kings guard have searched the streets of King's Landing and found the intruder. He's in the black cells, awaiting your judgement."

Aemond's eye narrowed, his grip tightening on the dagger. The thought of Jacaera and his sons in danger ignited a burning anger within him. He nodded; his jaw set with determination. "Thank you-" he said, his voice cold. "I will personally deal with the man who tried to take my love from me.”

Larys inclined his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Aemond turned back to his chambers, his resolve firm. He would ensure that those who threatened his family would face the full force of his wrath.

Tonight, as his beloved Jacaera and their sons slept peacefully, he would make sure their safety was secured. And come morning, justice would be served.

Returning to his post by the bed, Aemond watched over his family with renewed determination. The night was long, but he remained vigilant, his mind focused on the punishment he would mete out to those who dared to harm what was his.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Aemond's resolve only grew stronger. He would protect his family at any cost, and woe to those who stood in his way.

Aemond left Jacaera and the boys under heavy guard in his chambers, ensuring their safety before making his way down to the black cells. The air grew colder and damper as he descended, the stone walls closing in around him. Torches flickered, casting ominous shadows as he walked, his footsteps echoing through the narrow passageways.

He reached the cell where the man was held and pushed open the heavy iron door. Inside, a man was bound in chains, kneeling on the cold floor. The moment he saw Aemond, the man began to shake and beg for mercy.

"Please, Your Grace," the man whimpered, tears streaming down his face. "I have a family."

Aemond stepped closer, his eyes blazing with fury. He leaned down, getting in the man's face. "Yet you almost took mine from me," he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

The man continued to beg, his pleas growing more desperate. Aemond's patience wore thin, and he grabbed the man's collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. "Mercy will only be granted if you reveal who was behind the assassination attempt," Aemond demanded, his grip tightening.

The man gasped for air, his eyes wide with terror. "I never saw their face," he choked out. "They gave me a pouch of coins and told me how to enter the Red Keep, where to find the King's mistress and bastard children."

Aemond's rage intensified. He wrapped his hands around the man's throat, squeezing tightly. "Tell me" he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The man struggled, his face turning red as he fought to breathe. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to mutter, "Ours is the Fury."

Aemond's eye widened with recognition. He released his grip, and the man slumped to the ground, unconscious. Aemond's mind raced, the words echoing in his head.

He knew that motto well.

Aemond barged into Floris' chambers, his fury barely contained. The maids, startled by his sudden entrance, were rudely dismissed with a sharp wave of his hand. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the room.

Floris stood, her eyes wide with surprise and fear. Before she could speak, Aemond advanced on her, his expression dark with anger. "I know it was you," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You arranged the assassination attempt on Jacaera and my sons."

Floris' eyes widened further, and she shook her head, her voice trembling. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't fucking lie to me!" Aemond roared, his voice echoing off the walls."

Floris' facade crumbled, and she took a step back, her hands trembling. "I may have... expressed a desire to get rid of Jacaera and the boys," she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. "But I never intended for it to be acted upon. It was Larys Strong. He's the one who took it upon himself-"

Aemond scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "The men spoke your family's motto. Why would Larys arrange for the murder of Jacaera and my sons, only to implicate you? It makes no sense."

Floris began to cry, the tears streaming down her face. "I don't know, Aemond, I swear. I never wanted this. I just-I wanted you to love me, to be a proper husband."

Aemond was unmoved by her tears, his face a mask of cold fury. "You could have cost me everything," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Jacaera, my sons, my future. How dare you?"

Floris sobbed, her shoulders shaking, but Aemond's rage did not abate.

Aemond’s face was a mask of cold resolve as he looked at Floris. “Our marriage is over, I'm done with this farce-” he declared, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “I will petition the High Septon for an annulment based on your failure to produce an heir. You are to return to Storm’s End immediately. I never want to see or hear from you again.”

Floris’ tears dried up in an instant, replaced by a fury that matched Aemond’s own. “YOU DARE?” she raged, her voice trembling with indignation. “-You continuously brought shame and embarrassment upon me by flaunting your mistress and her bastards! I grew desperate and heartbroken-even when we did lay together no child ever came, I saw the way the men on the council would look at me, like it was my fault my womb remained empty, whilst their precious King was readily siring his bastards upon his whore”.

Aemond’s eye narrowed, his expression turning even colder. “There was never going to be a child. When we did lay together-I made sure you drank a potion to ensure my seed would never take root,” he revealed, his tone merciless. “I never wanted to have children with you. It’s Jacaera, it always has been, and it always will be”.

Floris’ eyes widened with shock and hurt. “You-you’ve been poisoning me?” she stammered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow.

Aemond didn’t flinch. “I took precautions. There is no room in my life for children I do not want, and I certainly did not want them with you.”

Floris’ rage bubbled over, and she challenged him, her voice rising. “What about Alys and the silver-haired boy at Harrenhal?”

Aemond sneered. “If you truly believe such baseless rumours, then you’re stupider than you look. The boy was sired by my uncle Daemon, not me.”

Floris tried to reason with him, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Aemond, please. Try to understand how I’ve felt, I am your wife, yet you continue to wrong me-”

“You? It’s all about you, isn’t it? what about Jacaera? She was my woman long before you and I exchanged vows-”

 “Please husband-We can find a way to make this work. You can keep seeing Jacaera, all I ask for in return is that you grant me one child-”

“Have you got cloth ears? I said I don’t want any children with you” snarled Aemond.

“Y-Your Grace-please”

“No,” Aemond cut her off, his tone final. “You are to leave the Red Keep immediately, or I will have you executed. Your presence here is no longer tolerated.”

Floris’ face twisted with a mix of despair and fury. “You will regret this, Aemond Targaryen,” she spat, her voice filled with venom.

Aemond’s expression remained unchanged, his resolve unshaken. “I doubt that very much. Guards!” he called, his voice echoing through the halls. The door opened, and two guards entered, their expressions stoic.

“Ensure that the lady gathers her things and is ready to leave for Storm’s End within the hour. If she resists, use force.” ordered Aemond, his voice icy.

The guards nodded, moving to flank Floris. She cast one last, venomous glance at Aemond before allowing herself to be led away.

Aemond descended once more into the black cells, his mind a storm of emotions. He found Larys Strong standing beside the still-unconscious intruder, observing him with an air of detached curiosity.

"Lord Strong," Aemond called, his voice echoing through the cold stone chamber.

Larys turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Aemond's demeanour. "Your Grace," he greeted with a slight bow. "I trust you have news?"

Aemond nodded curtly. "Floris admitted her guilt. She has been banished from the Red Keep and is to return to Storm's End. Our marriage will be annulled."

Larys raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "I must say, I am shocked that Lady Floris was capable of such a thing. To arrange for babes to be murdered in their beds is a terrible act, indeed. No doubt the actions of a woman who had grown desperate”.

Aemond’s expression hardened. "Mayhaps, but it was unforgivable nonetheless."

“Did the Lady happen to mention how she came into contact with the men she hired?” asked Larys, his voice soft and low.

Before he could respond Aemond’s attention was drawn to the sound of Larys tapping his cane against the floor and suddenly Alys’ words echoed around his mind ‘beware of those who walk in the shadows of truth and lies-false tongues and spilled blood- the sound of wood against the stone’

Aemond then noticed the pin on Larys’ robes, hidden slightly in the folds of fabric, the slight gold hue glinting in the torchlight.

A firefly-Aemond remembered that Helaena once had a number of them as part of her bug collection.

He remembered how their mother had reacted when Helaena had declared that the fireflies were bored of their captivity and had promptly released them in the Red Keep.

The sound of his sweet sisters laughter as they flew free around the room, and their mother’s shrieking when she found one in her hair.

Firefly, Firefly, Firefly. The word kept playing on his mind.

Floris had named Larys as her co-conspirator, and whilst he had initially dismissed the notion as ridiculous, he couldn’t shake the feeling on uncertainty that was now swirling within him.

Alys had never steered him wrong before with any of her warnings and he had learned very quickly during the war to never ignore what she told him, even if it seemed like nonsensical ramblings.

“Interesting pin-” muttered Aemond, his hand curling around the pommel of his sword.

“A firefly-” said Larys firmly.

“I know-”

Without warning, Aemond unsheathed his sword in a swift, fluid motion. Larys had only a moment to register what was happening before the blade struck.

Aemond’s sword cut cleanly through Larys' neck, and his head fell to the ground with a dull thud, eyes still wide with shock.

Aemond stood over the beheaded corpse, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion. He felt a grim satisfaction in exacting his vengeance. Larys had played a dangerous game, manipulating events and people for his own ends. Now, he had paid the ultimate price.

Aemond wiped his sword clean on Larys' robes and sheathed it. He looked at the unconscious intruder, his lip curling in disdain. He would deal with him later. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Aemond stood before his council, his eyes scanning the room with a steely determination. The members of his Small Council sat around the table, their expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Alicent sat near the head of the table, her gaze fixed on her son with a mix of disbelief and concern.

"I have gathered you all here today to make an important announcement," Aemond began, his voice steady and commanding. "My marriage to Floris Baratheon will be annulled due to her inability to provide me with an heir and for her involvement in the assassination attempt on Jacaera and my sons, she has been banished back to Storm's End-and before anyone dares to mention it, I give no shit for Borros Baratheon, and if he wishes to express his disdain then he will do so before Vhagar-"

A ripple of shock ran through the council members, but no one dared to speak. Aemond continued, his tone growing colder. "Larys Strong, who was also involved, has been executed for his treachery."

Alicent’s eyes widened, and she shook her head slightly, but she remained silent, her face a mask of conflicting emotions.

Aemond took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. "As soon as the High Septon grants the annulment, I will wed Jacaera. Our children will be legitimized as Targaryen’s, and my oldest son, Rhaegar, will be named heir to the Iron Throne".

The council members lowered their gazes, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to challenge their clearly angry yet determined King. The weight of Aemond's decisions hung heavily in the room, an unspoken tension settling over the assembly.

Aemond looked at each of them in turn, his gaze unyielding. "My decision is not up for debate, I let you fools force me into a marriage with Floris and it was a mistake from the very beginning. Jacaera and our sons are my family, and I will protect them at all costs. Anyone who dares to threaten them will face the same fate as Larys Strong."

Alicent finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Aemond-are you certain this is the right path?"

Aemond met his mother's gaze, his expression softening slightly. "Mother, I understand your concerns, but my mind is made up. Jacaera and our children are my future."

Alicent sighed, her shoulders sagging in resignation. "Very well. I will not stand against you."

Aemond nodded, grateful for her reluctant support. He turned back to the council. "Prepare the necessary documents for the annulment and send word to the High Septon. This matter must be resolved swiftly-I do not wish to be married to that Baratheon bitch for any longer than what is necessary”.

The council members murmured their assent, hastily making notes and exchanging wary glances. Aemond knew that his decisions would be met with resistance, but he was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

His love for Jacaera and his commitment to their children gave him the strength to defy tradition and forge his own path as King.

As the council meeting adjourned, Aemond took a moment to approach his mother. "Thank you for not opposing me," he said quietly.

Alicent looked at him with a mixture of sadness and pride. "I express my regret in not advocating for you to wed Jacaera in the first place-mayhaps all this could have been avoided and you would have been glad for it-now my only hope that you find the happiness you seek, my son."

Aemond nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. "I will, Mother. I promise."

Jacaera sat gracefully by Aemond's side during the celebratory feast, her eyes sparkling with contentment. The grandeur of the Red Keep's throne room was a far cry from the gloom that had been present as she was first brought here as a captive.

Initially she had been defiant and intent on fighting against her captors at every given opportunity, but then she saw how Aemond had looked at her and how fierce he had been when he demanded that she be given to him.

Soon after an idea began to form in her mind, to make Aemond fall in love with her, initially she did think it would be quite difficult given his previous stance on duty and his loyalty to his family but his obsession with her proved to be his undoing.

The man was so completely starved of affection that all Jacaera had to do was love him, care for him and give herself to him in every way possible.

Aemond was as eager as a neglected puppy and the more she gave, he was only to happy to take.

In truth there were times where she felt sorry for him, deep down it wasn’t really his fault, he had obviously never received the love and nurture of a good mother and that neglect had caused him issues, it didn’t totally absolve him of his sins but it allowed for an understanding of why he was the way he was.

Sure, there were times when they argued, but eventually they would make up and Aemond would spend as much time as he could between her thighs. Despite his initial shyness, his appetite for sex was ravenous, and Jacaera was more than happy to indulge him.

The continuous loss of her family had been a deep wound, yet it also steeled her resolve to ensure her mother's legacy endured. As the greens self-destructed in their political machinations, Jacaera skilfully positioned herself at Aemond's side.

When he returned victorious from the battle above the gods eye and was crowned King, his council were quick to try and influence him and his reign. Pressing him to follow through on his promise to marry Floris Baratheon.

The night before his wedding, Aemond spent hours fucking her, he was like a man possessed, the way he devoured her cunt, making her peak on his tongue then sheathing his cock inside her and making her scream his name.

She knew he loved to hear her, that what he was doing to her felt good. He liked to hear his name upon her lips, hear her praise him and beg him for more.

She did think that it wouldn’t bother her if he laid with Floris, that she didn’t care about him in that way but knowing that he had consummated the marriage had hurt in a way that she didn’t expect.

He came to her after he’d been with Floris and the look of hurt that flashed across his face when he reached out for her, but she slapped his hands way was something she would always remember.

In truth it was the first time she realised that withholding what he wanted would also grant her things that she wanted, he was so addicted to what she did for him that he would do anything to please her.

But it also served to make her aware that despite trying to avoid it, she had developed feelings for him, she had grown to care for his well being and she found herself descending into epic fits of rage when learning he had been with Floris, granted it was rare, barely once in as many moons but it still happened, and she hated it.

If she belonged to him, then he belonged to her.

Aemond would watch as she threw things around her chambers, it was almost as if he enjoyed her jealousy, her anger raising to momentous proportions as she let him fuck her hard against the wall, the rough stones digging into her back as he thrust into her, sometimes she would bite him until he bled, the first time had been an accident but there were times where he demanded that she do it, and she was more than happy to oblige, to inflict pain where she could.

One day she expressed her desire to be a mother, and to her surprise Aemond stopped requesting moontea after their couplings and soon she bore him two sons who quickly became the centre of his world.

As time progressed Floris was nothing more than a thorn in her side, but Jacaera moved subtly, knowing of Aemond's distaste for the marriage he had been forced into.

Obviously, Alys and her expertise came in handy as Jacaera couldn’t have Floris birthing any of Aemond’s children, granted she didn’t know Alys personally, but Aemond would often talk about his time at Harrenhal and the witch who helped him, so Jacaera had subtly suggested asking for her help.

Alys was more than happy to help in exchange for the right to call Harrenhal her own, why anyone would want to live in that ruined husk of a castle Jacaera would never know but Alys was content with what she had been given and provided her expertise.

The assassination attempt had been drastic, but effective, the intruders were lumbering fools who drank more than they trained and two of them were easily dealt with, the training sessions she endured coming in handy, and the third ended up getting captured.

Larys Strong's involvement had been pivotal, for all he was clever, he was also a greedy man and all it took was the promise of convincing Aemond to give him a seat on the council, though he had to be dealt with once his usefulness ended, but given Aemonds fury over what had happened and Floris naming him, it was all but inevitable that Larys would find himself a head shorter.

Floris had been banished from Kings Landing and her marriage to Aemond had been annulled.

Now Jacaera was married, and she was the Queen, she had briefly entertained the idea of getting rid of Aemond as well, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came.

Despite what he had done, he did have some redeeming qualities about him. But more importantly, she had come to accept that she did love him.

As she gazed at Aemond and their sons, Jacaera's heart swelled with a mix of satisfaction and ambition. She leaned over and kissed Aemond's scarred cheek, she then took his hand and placed it on the huge swell of her stomach, any day now they would be blessed with their next child, and she hoped that it would be a girl, perhaps she could even convince Aemond to let her name the babe Rhaenyra.

Her thoughts drifting to her mother, she hoped that she would be proud of all that she had endured in order too see that her mother’s blood would continue on the Iron Throne.

Hidden and patient, she would remain, to see the true line of succession resorted at least in some form the day that Rhaegar would be crowned King.

The End.

[writingsofwesteros]

Gwayne Hot Thots x Bimbo hotd Verse

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/759772976174481408/httpswwwtumblrcomwritingsofwesteros758906245

The other one I sent yesterday can be disregarded lol, I had added to much to it. But there was something I added that I really liked oopsie🙈

Their children so picture perfect as they move around their parents.

I see our little drama queens having only daughters, specifically three spoiled red-head princesses🤭

A mean girl bratty princess

The drama between both of the parents! Nothing too bad unless Rhaenyra makes their little princess feel uncomfortable. Also King!Jace and Bratty!Queen😩

A sweet bimbo princess

Aemond pulling a Daemon and waiting for his sweet niece to be of age and asking for her hand XD. Vhagar always looks after her pearly pink little dragon.

A pretty shy/nerdy princess

Similar to nyra x Cole!daughter, so he’s surprisingly the only suitor that hasn’t caused his sister or uncle a headache. Poor boy is just so in love and following his pretty smart niece everywhere like a lost puppy, wanting her approval.

Poor Gwayne would’ve much rather Daeron as a suitor for his pretty daughters.

!!!!!!

King!Jace and Bratty!Queen is delicious. She wants feasts all the time with pretty food and the most silkiest dresses. Jace gifting her jewels whilst his head moves between her thighs.

She adores Aemond; always following him around with her pretty dragon near or in her arms. She listens as he reads whilst taking none of it in.

The cutest!! oh the sweet thing just completely obsessed with her.