#aemond targaryen x alys rivers

[misguidedasgardian]

The Dragon's mistress // COMPLETED

This is purely self-pleasing, and ANGSTOWN

I got inspired by a conversation with AI Aemond, in which I was in Dragonstone… and Aemond appeared to conquer it… I bend the knee to him and I became his “pet”, it was super exciting but degrading… ANYWAYS…. and this is how it was born… It is going to be a bittersweet story, exploring some of my darkest kinks… anyways… here we go...

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

You were the last remaining child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, hold up in Dragonstone, the Greens, more, precisely, Aemond Targaryen has come for you... to bend the knee and submit yourself to him

Warnings: involuntary servitude, death of characters, cursing, smut, dub-con, others... warnings will de added by chapters

Prologue

Kneel

Servant

Bath

Jealousy

Plaything

Whore then?

Betrothed

King's Landing

It is I, the younger brother

Mistress

King & Queen

The Dragon has three heads

Our greatest fears

My heart, beating

The End of the Beginning part 1

The End of the beggining part 2

Epilogue

[witchofhimring]

To cast you down and take all you hold dear

This series is being edited. I feel Alys came off as one dimensionally evil and the reader as a pretty flat character. So this will be heavily edited.

Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear

Pairings:

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Part 3 (previous chapter): Younger and more beautiful

Warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of stillbirth/miscarriages, death

A slap echoed through the room. The lady cried out and held her cheek. Alys stood there, wide eyed with a shaking hand. All her ladies stood around her in shock. At that moment Alys did not look even remotely regal. In fact, she had never looked worse. Alys was no longer the beautiful woman who took the throne. There may be remanence, but they were blurred. Her once fine black hair had a slight wear to it from all the nervous tugging over the past few months. Dark brown eyes bore out of a pale face, the skin stretched tightly over it like a mask. Her figure, which had once been so slender, had become blousy and difficult to control. Alys found that she could no longer simply rely on walking and eating soups to keep a slim figure. Her body ached in places she did not even know could. This might have been all worth it if she'd had a son. But only one daughter and two stillborn babes in the end. Panic had set in. They now whispered in the halls of the Queen, unable to bear the King a son. Now they whispered of the old one. Lately, Y/n's name came stalked the halls.

At least she new how to be a Queen.

Twenty years and he just casts her aside.

Queen Y/n would have done it better.

Y/n this. Y/n that. All they talked of was the old Queen. They also whispered of how Queen Alys was losing her grip of the King. No longer was she the fearless mistress who took the court by storm. As Queen she was flooded with worried and responsibilities that made her hair turn grey.

Not like Floris Baratheon. Floris Baratheon was only slightly younger than herself. She had borne her pervious husband two sons yet her figure remained just as lithe as it had been in her youth. Alys had taken great pleasure in sending Y/n's former lady to serve the true Princess, her daughter. But the sneaky little slut had been cunning. Because whenever the Queen had her back turned, Floris took to seductive arts.

"To cast you down and take all you hold dear."

Floris Baratheon, younger, more beautiful, who held a candle for the old Queen. Soon Floris became the governess and had unfiltered access to the King.

Exhausted, Alys dismissed her ladies and headed down the hall. It was late and she had only just heard the last of the petitioners. She would go to her husband tonight and try to get another child. Perhaps this time a son. Summoning her courage Alys walked to the door. In the mirror she quickly checked herself. Today she wore a sleek black gown that highlighted her best features. The black and ruby crown that once belonged to Y/n was placed on her head. She pushed open the door. The sight that greeted her caused Alys to stagger back. Floris Baratheon was sitting in the Kings lap, her dark hair cascading to one side. Her blue eyes drifted towards the Queen and she could see mirth shimmering on the surface of her eyes. The second her husband sees her he simply helps Floris to her feet and sends her away. "Your Grace." Floris gives her the smallest curtsy, and the smallest smile that only she could see dancing on her lips.

"At least the previous Queen was dignified about it." Alys wanted to tear their eyes out for such words. It was all they had been talking about the past few days. After catching her husband with Floris the conversation that followed could have destroyed the Red Keep. Shouts thundered and likely a nosy servant had overheard and spread word about. Or even that bitch Floris had opened her cunt mouth. She wanted to tear their throats out and make them beg for mercy. But that wasn't truly an option. She was the Queen. Just as how Y/n held the title. A Queen never complained.

"You brought that whore into your chambers!" She screamed as tears built up behind her eyes. Aemond pinched his nose, looking irritated. "I did not endure a day of tedious meetings to deal with your harping." This was insulting. He was acting as if his offence was minor in nature. "Harping! This is an insult to me and our daughter the Princess! She is heir to the Seven kingdoms and-" Aemond started to laugh. With a flinch she drew back. Alys could not believe this was the man she had grown to love. "You forget yourself Alys. And let us not forget that my daughter Daenerys was considered the heir at one such time." She could hear the wine on his breath. Horrified, Alys gaped at her husband. "How dare....that is not the same!" She was actually shaking right now, such was her anger. Alys was tempted to rush towards Aemond and drag her nails through his skin. And once she was done with that, her attention would turn to Floris. And Gods help that girl when she did. "In the eyes of many it is the same, My Lady. Many do not see you as the true Queen." She staggered back. No, this could not be her Aemond. This was some horrid parody of the man she had come to love. Unable to take it anymore, Alys fleed.

She knew that the crown was her destiny. Alys had spent days preparing Harenhall for the Kings arrival, as well as herself. Her onyx black hair fell to her waist, she bathed in cold water for weeks to keep her skin pale and a crimson dress that flung to her figure. She waited by the window, excepting to see a dragon descend at any moment. "Queen you shall be." Yes. She would be Queen one day. Her thoughts went to the current Queen. The one who could not even give the King a son. Perhaps this was the Queen she was meant to replace. A deep rumbling emanated from the distance and a great shadow parted the rolling clouds. It was time.

She descended the stairs, careful not to tear her delicate dress. A rumble shook the castle as Vhaegar landed. The great doors opened and Alys entered the court yard, just as the King got off Vhaegar. He was not a young man anymore, though not old either. He still kept the same physic of his youth, silver hair streaming behind him. Alys felt something warm stir within her. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. It was as if someone had plucked the ethereal descriptions of the Valyrians of old and made it into life. He walked towards her in an elegant stride before kissing her hand. His lips were warm.

Days went by as Aemond and Alys spoke. They walked in the gardens and talked about books. The longer they stayed together the more she fell for him. Alys thought that this must be it. This must be the King she was meant to marry. It was just too bad he had a wife. "I shall head back when the Queen gives birth." It had been almost twenty years and the Queen had yet to give a son. Alys hated her, the reason Aemond would have to leave. She just wished Y/n would go away already. She was tired of waiting! "Is she in good health?" From anyone else this would sound like a comment of concern. But no, Alys simply hoped Y/n would finally die. And then Alys could marry and give her King the son he so needed.

She was summoned to the council at the hour of the wolf. She walked, flanked by two of her ladies. On her way there, who should she meet, but Floris. It was late. Far to late for Floris Baratheon to simply be taking a leisurely stroll through the castle. Alys realized they were quite alone. A slow sneer curled on those red lips as Alys realized now was the time. She would take care of Floris once and for all. "It is late to be serving the King as his whore." She put on the facade on an uncaring Queen who saw mistresses as beneath her notice. Only Floris smiled, as if in on some great joke. "Oh, you're alright at it." Instead of rage Alys was confused. "Speak plainly." She demanded. "I mean that your uncaring mask is alright. Though not as good....as say... Queen Y/n." The former Queen's name rolled off Floris's tongue as she relished in the look on Alys's face. "Your loyalty to your former mistress is touching. But I suppose your final memories of her plight encourage you to rebel against be." Alys got pleasure from the momentary, painful spasm that crossed Floris's face. "I regret to inform you that the Queen was hardly pitiful in her final days. She carried herself with dignity, before and after she was in the palace." Alys fought down the hateful heat that threatened to engulf her. This mere mistress dared to insult her. Alys swore that when she bore a son she would have Floris pay for every insult. "Well, regardless, I am Queen now and it is best you remember that. I am sure your mistress told you many things to sway your heart against me." Floris only laughed. "You are most mistaken if you thought that you took up much place in the Queen's mind at all. Queens do not concern themselves with mistresses." The next moment there were was a gasp and a "crack" as Alys struck Floris. Her head turned and Floris's pale skin now wore the beginnings of a bruise. Floris simply wiped the small amount of blood from her lips. "As I said, alright. But Y/n was better."

Now word got around court of how the Queen struck the Kings mistress. All the time they stared and whispered of the jealous Queen. Worst of all were the murmurings of how Aemond might set her aside and take the young, pretty Floris as his bride. After all, she had provided her previous husband with two healthy boys. Alys had tried to conceive again but to no avail. Each month she woke up to blood on the sheets. Day after day she hoped she was pregnant.

It was not only her difficulties in producing a son that haunted Westeros. There was news coming in that Daenerys was plotting something. She had disappeared from the Sept in which she receded and taken her dragon with her. Aemond had sent out men to look her her. Alys hoped that Aemond would see sense and either kill the girl or make her take the veil. But no such thing was to occur. And then they did find the Princess, she was at the head of an army.

Alys went to see her husband that night. This time she went alone. The light flickered on the wall casting shadows. Her steps echoed off the stones. She saw her husbands bedroom door. Oddly enough, there were no guards posted. Without knocking she entered, only to see it occupied. Floris immediately straightened up, turning around hastily. A piece of crumpled parchment in her grasp. Suspicion gripped Alys at the way Floris's eyes shifted. "Hand me that." Alys striddened towards her. Floris stumbled back in her haste. A thin, cold hand closed on Floris's wrist as Alys snatched the parchment. With a shove Floris was sent to the floor. Alys could not discern the writing. But that's why spies used code. They both froze, as Alys realized what Floris had been planning for months. And Floris realized Alys had found her out. Alys could not breath. Floris had charged at her and seized Alys about the throat. Both toppled to the side. Alys dug her nails in Floris's pale skin, wracking it with her talons. Floris cried out but did not release her hold. "You traitorous bitch! I should have killed you and her bastard daughter!" Alys screamed. She called for guards but realized there were none at the door. Floris seized the necklace around Alys's neck and twisted it. Sharp pain exploded across her neck and suddenly Floris let go. She shot up and darted to the door. Alys was hot on her heals and she seized Floris's dark brown hair. She screamed and slammed her weight into Alys's foot. In one last desperate move Alys reached for the candlestick and a moment later it cracked against Floris's skull. Floris feel, bleeding. Victoriously Alys stood over her. And it seemed her prayers were answered as she head voices outside. Guards swept in and the candlestick fell from Alys's hand. At their head was Daenerys Targaryen.

"You should take care." Her elder brother Harwin Strong leaned against the door as he watched his sister put on jewelry. Alys admired her features in the mirror. She was lucky in her looks. Unlike her lumbering oaf of a brother and crippled Larys. "And why is that?" Alys rolled her eyes, she didn't have time for this. Harwin's expression darkened. "Do not take me for a fool little sister. I know what you did to Amelia." Alys sharply turned to him. So her was taking her side, was he. "She should have been more careful." "She accidently dropped tea on you. That was no reason to scar her face." Alys payed her foolish brother, who held to idea of gallantry and chivalry like a child. "Alys, one day your carelessness will harm you."

The great hall was lit. Lords and ladies had been crowded into the court, armed guards standing at every entrance. As Alys was lead in she saw her husband standing in front of a young, white haired man. The second he saw Daenerys he smiled. "I take it that everything went well?" "Yes." Daenerys stood beside the young man. "What is this?!" Alys was shaking. Even though she did not know the events that had transpired she could guess them. She looked to Aemond was had tight lipped and unable to look at her. "Aemond what has happened?" Alys grasped onto his arm, Daenerys's eyes flashed. "Alys Strong." It came out as a hiss. Daenerys's hand rested on a sword that longed to be wielded. "Lady Alys, I have not introduced myself. I am Viserys Targaryen, second of his name. This is my wife Queen Daenerys, first of her name." Her heart seemed to stop beating. She looked from Aemond back to the new couple. "You....you bedded the enemy?" Alys could barely grasp the situation. Daenerys shrugged. "Alliances change, as you well know. After all weren't you once a faithful subject?" "I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and-" Daenerys laughed. "And who will fight for your cause, My Lady?" They looked around the court and not one stepped forward. Alys looked at all the faces, at the young lady whom she slapped weeks before. The lady turned her back. Finally one did step forward. It was one of the Kingsguard. Joy leapt in Alys's heart only for it to plummeted as he knelt in front of the couple. And one by one they surrendered to the new King and Queen.

Alys was allowed the keep the Queen's rooms. But it was little comfort. A new succession had been drawn up. After Aemond died it would be Daenerys, daughter of Y/n, who would be Queen. The marriage of Y/n and Aemond was judged as good and valid. And while Alys was Queen her daughter would not be in the line of succession. She did not even feel like a Queen. Most of her ladies had gone. And she held no influence. Her place on the council was taken my Daenerys and her husband.

Aemond did not seek out his wife. Their love was less than a shadow of what it had once been. He took neither council or took to her bed. Sometimes they passed in the halls. How she wished to have words with him. But he never seemed to be interested. They never spoke again.

King Aemond Targaryen died in the early morning, alone, with none by his side. Alys wept bitterly when she found out. They had never even said goodbye. A day later they came in and told Alys that she would have a new residence. Her things were removed from the room and bustled into a carriage. "Where am I going?" The guard simply shook his head. "You will not be leaving now My Lady. The coronation takes place in a week. Alys had to make due with the few things they had left her with. Her new room was nice, but a far cry from what had been. When they day of the coronation Alys was brought to the front of the crowd. She watched as Daenerys and her husband were crowned a joint rulers of Westeros. And she looked every inch her mother, with a crown of Valyrian steel on her head.

To cast her down and take all she held dear.

Alys was bustled into a carriage shortly after. Exhausted, she leaded against the window. Where she was going she did not know. Perhaps back to Harrenhal, a place of happier days. Maybe her daughter would visit from time to time. For days they trundled on and Alys realized the destination was not Harrenhal. But no one told her anything. Perhaps she was staying at Casterly Rock. Which might not be so bad. One day they reached the place. The salty waves beat against the rocks and Alys realized where they were.

She cried out and collapsed.

On the stone steps of a sept.

Note: So this is the end I guess. I'm not entirely happy with this ending, so I might make it into a story at some point. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Taglist:

@watercolorskyy

@bellstwd

[toms-cherry-trees]

Fires of Harrenhal || AemondxReader/AlysxReader

Summary: Secrets and deceive always find their way through the stone halls

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Angst I think? Betrayal. Character death. Very mild NSFW. Canon divergene from both book and show. Mention of war crimes and murder. Idk how else to do this without spoiling. No beta reading I have no one to beta for me

Author's note: Never. EVER in my life had I written something so long. And it has me very anxious. Also I don't know what this is exactly. It is not angst, nor fluff. I don't know. Enjoy!

A gentle drizzle fell from the overcast skies. Fine droplets of water collected on the braids in her hair, beading in her eyelashes, rolling down the curve of her neck to the swell of her breasts. The fabric of the green gown slowly soaked, and the air around her chilled, but she did not feel the cold. The measly mizzle could do little to match the frost spreading through her bones, born from the very depths of her soul, turning her to ice from the inside out.

His emblazoned cloak still hung loosely from her shoulders, heavy and comforting, even though the warmth of his body had been long lost to the rain. His scent lingered, smoke and leather, a faint hint of spiced wine; and something else which is entirely his own, indescribable and unexplainable, but it evoked danger. And death.

Words befitting to the place she stood. Harrenhal had been long cursed, ever since Harren the Black mixed blood in the mortar which kept the bricks together. Ever since the Black Dread torched down the fortress with the King and his sons inside. The passing of the years only added to the jinx. Death and misfortune followed whoever dared to settle within the crumbled and slagged walls. Entire houses and lineages exterminated, most recently house Strong; from the eldest man to the babes in the cradle, put to death by Aemond’s command. All of them but one.

A Strong bastard, from all people. 

Aemond’s infatuation with the wetnurse stunned those who bore witness to the affair, and speculation soon arose that the so called witch of Harrenhal had laid an incantation on the Prince, for otherwise it could not be explained that such proper and devoted man, always guided by rules and correctitude, devoted of the Faith, could so brazenly take a lover, an unworthy one at that, while his beautiful, perfect, dutiful wife awaited for his return at King’s Landing. No, Aemond could never.

But he could and he had.

Alys hadn’t been the first one. Others had been fleeting affairs or pleasures of one night, both before and after their wedding. Ladies from the court, his mother companions, town girls, even the occasional maidservant that caught his eye. But unlike with Aegon, they all came willingly, ensnared by the mystery of the one eyed prince. All of them forgotten as soon as dawn broke through, their silence bought with gold or jewels, and a cup of herbal tea drank under the watchful gaze of a maester.

She didn’t let their existence bother her too much. Always keeping her head held high and her gaze ahead, haughty, beautiful and proud. Aemond took great care to not leave a trail of bastards in his wake, unlike brother dearest, and never flaunted them in the open. No, before the court he only had eyes -eye- for his wife. A gentle hand on the waist, glances across the table, a kiss on the hand when they parted, and one in the forehead when they reunited. A most perfect and devoted husband, whose mask fell as soon as the doors closed behind him.

Some days she wished he would openly hate her, because at least it would prove him capable of any feeling towards her. Instead, he only offered her an impenetrable barrier of indifference bordering cruelty. Aemond would walk the Godswood with her, barely rewarding her with a hum of acknowledgement when she tried to engage conversation of any sort. She tried to show interest in his heritage, but he said she would never understand the history without carrying Valyrian blood. When she suggested meeting his dragon, he retorted that Vhagar didn’t take kindly to strangers, citing false concerns for her safety. 

Even the bedding he treated like a chore to be dealt with. Methodical, efficient, and dreadfully boring. He laid with his wife as little as possible, just enough to avoid any whispers or bad talking. He would send a servant to inform her in advance that he would visit her bed so she could be “prepared”. A quick affair, his body always on top, not a sound heard other than the occasional creaking of the bed, done. He rolled over and fell asleep before she had finished cleaning herself. Hells, she didn’t hold great expectations of the act, but for a man who took so many lovers she hoped for a bit more effort. 

When he became Regent, the weight of the borrowed crown awoke something deep within him, something that had always been there, dormant and expecting for its moment of glory. An obsession with control and power. He became possessive. He had to have her in sight at all times. If he sat the throne, she stood right next to him. When he held council, she acted as cupbearer, but only to serve his cup and his cup alone. If Aemond decided to sit in the library until the hour of ghosts going over scrolls and maps, she had to be there, dutifully waiting by his side until he decided to retire for the night.

They no longer slept separately, since he simply had the maids move all her belongings to his own chambers, while also disposing of things he decided she no longer required, like her childhood dolls, books of fantasy or any gown not made in green and gold. He also kept her diary in the drawer of his desk; it had to be back there every night without fail. She did not know if he read her entries, but decided to not risk it and write only about things he would like. The hours became long, since he allowed her to speak only with people he approved of; very few had earned that trust; and those who did she would rather not speak to. Even her servants had been swapped, her maids and guards replaced with former attendants of the Queen, more loyal to the Dowager than they would ever be to her.

Aemond’s departure for Harrenhal came as a relief, his presence having slowly grown into a suffocating weight on her chest and lurking shadow on her back. As soon as Aegon could rise from bed again, he sent his brother to retake the dilapidated fortress from their uncle, although she suspected it more to be a cock show off; to remind the people that even though the Greens had less dragons, they still had the biggest one.

Aemond requested his wife to accompany him, but Aegon swiftly refused. A warzone is no place for a lady, he said. She did not trust his intentions, but given he could barely do anything other than speak and drink, she felt confidently safe in the newfound solitude, dividing her time between accompanying Helaena, prayers with her good mother in the sept and her own recreations, in which she could now indulge fully, free of her husband’s criticism.

Bliss, however, proved to be fleeting. One day Aegon summoned her while she broke her fast, to his bedchamber of all places. The alcove smelled stale, a combination of souring wine and the sickly scent of various medicines and tinctures, all mixed with the pungent stench of something unidentifiable decomposing somewhere. Perhaps the putrefaction within finally caught up to the surface, and Aegon himself had begun to rot from the inside out. Which wouldn’t surprise anyone, given his current state.

The open letter in his scarred hand and the knavish smirk on his lips gave her a bad feeling. He sat unabashedly naked in his bed, his immodesties hidden only by a sheet soiled with something indescribable. She tried and failed not to look at the ruggish and reddened skin marring his left side, the movements of his arm clumsy and stiff as if Aegon had been coated with tar. Although that probably would have been a kinder fate than his armour melting into his flesh.

When her eyes met his own, she saw a twinkle of delight sparkle on them. A sick pleasure earned from her evident discomfort at the sight of himself.

“Your dearest husband summons you to his side, now that Harrenhal is back under our command. And I, ever the benevolent brother, will allow it”

Suspicion gnawed at her insides. More so when she tried to take the letter from Aegon’s hand, and he kept waving it teasingly out of her reach, displaying surprising agility despite his wounds. Right before she could snatch it away he tucked the paper under the sheets, in a place where he knew she’d never reach out, even under threat of death by dragonfire. His smile reached his eyes for the first time in months as he dismissed her, pleased like a child who got away with a prank.

Sleep refused to come to her that night, forcing her to toss and turn as she went over the day. She didn’t trust Aegon more than she’d trust a dog guarding a roasted pig. Aemond summoning his wife at his side would not be inconceivable; the brother who fulfilled his duty to the Crown and now demanded his prize. But Aegon’s willingness to let her go told a different story. Nothing entertained him more than toying with his little brother, and what better way to do it than denying him access to his wife only because he could.

An ulterior motive had to be there for the King to grant such freedom. Something she could not yet see.

Aegon even arranged her departure himself. A messenger went ahead so everything would be arranged for a proper welcome. The retinue, albeit reduced, included fine soldiers and swordmasters, all dressed in plain cloth and without pomp. Ser Criston himself joined in on the journey, wishing to also meet up with Aemond to discuss war strategies and their next moves. 

Green and gold banners and soldiers in formation awaited them in the immense courtyard upon arrival. The whistling of the icy wind through the cracks in the masonry made sounds like the fortress wept and howled, the souls of those who died within the walls using the wind to disguise their lamentations. 

The steward and a knight led them inside, up the Kingspyre tower and towards where she assumed her husband awaited. Large double doors of blackened wood stood slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light into the hallway. The steward pushed the door open and announced Criston and herself. Both stepped into a large dining room, a table laid out with a feast to feed a dozen. Yet only two sat at the table. 

Aemond presided over the supper, at the spot of honour in what could only be described as a throne. In his lap sat a woman of milky skin and raven curls, cherry lips pulled into a seductive smirk, her elegant fingers carding through Aemond’s silky tresses. The bodice of the woman’s silk gown had been unlaced, one breast out of the garment and firmly captured in Aemond’s mouth.

She didn’t have time to see Aemond’s face before Criston pulled her away by the arm, his broad form standing between the disconcerted woman and the indecorous scene. But she made eye contact with the black haired woman, the woman who sat her husband’s lap, the woman whose fucking tit he suckled like an indefence infant. Green eyes bore into her own, resplendent and alluring like emeralds. The last thing she saw before the door slammed shut was the woman winking at her, as if they shared a secret.

Everything made sense now; the scattered pieces falling into place perfectly. Aemond had never written. Why would he, when he had a woman keeping his bed warm and his needs fulfilled, a woman whom he craved like a drunk craves a drink. Someone, no doubt a carefully placed spy, had surely written to Aegon to report the affair. And the King, in pain, scarred and woefully bored, allowed himself some entertainment. Soon enough he would be doubling over in laughter at the picture of his perfect brother caught with the Strong bastard’s tit in the mouth.

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife in the days that came. In order to preserve her own dignity, she had to act as if nothing had occurred. She broke her fast every morning with Aemond and Criston, not a single word spoken besides the usual morning greetings. Aemond could not look any of them in the eye, especially not his fatherly figure, who had never gazed upon the prince with such disappointment before. The silent treatment hurt Aemond more than the cut of a sword, that much was evident upon his face. But his wife didn’t feel an ounce of pity for him; in fact, she rejoiced in his shame. She wanted Aemond to feel at least a fraction of the silent disgrace she carried with herself. She wanted him to be the one who had to keep his head down and his mouth shut.

He hadn’t even tried to come to her chambers, aware of the reaction that would await him if the thought so much as crossed his mind. Which is why the knock on her door, late on the seventh night, came as a surprise. On the other side stood no other than Alys, the so-called witch, wearing the same gown of that first day. The wife tried to slam the door shut, but not fast enough to keep the woman out. Alys entered the chamber and sat near the fire, her skirts spread around her as she stared into the dancing flames. 

Before she could hurl insults and perhaps something more tangible at the whore, her voice echoed through the alcove. She had never heard Alys talk. Sweet and velvety, every word slipping past her plush lips in a mellow murmur. Even though they stood away from one another, the witch’s words resounded in her ear like a close whisper.

“You are unhappy”

Not a question. An affirmation.

“Unhappy because your husband doesn’t love you like he loves others. Because he refuses to show you care and adoration like you always dreamed of. He doesn't know how to cherish you, and you think you deserve better. You know you do”

Every fibre of her being urged her to scream insults at that brazen whore, to drag her by those perfect curls of hers and push her out the window. Yet she found herself unable to move or speak. Because, deep down, Alys had only said the truth. As if with just one look, she had been able to read her deepest thoughts and laid them out plainly in a way she never could. Tears pooled in her eyes, but her prideful nature kept her from letting them out. Crying in front of her husband’s mistress was a disgrace she would never recover from.

Alys stood, eyebrows knit together and features contorted in what could only be described as pity. Her soft, motherly hands cupped the younger woman’s cheeks, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her thumbs. They stood like that for a moment, the tension dissolving into a comfortable silence as they assessed one another. At last, it was the wetnurse who broke the spell.

“I have seen your life in the flames. Not even diamonds shine as bright as your future”

The witch gave her a brief kiss on the lips and walked out silently, her steps silent in the flagstone, leaving behind a flabbergasted woman. 

After that, Alys came to her chambers every night. And for some reason, she didn’t turn her away, not even once. Maybe because she knew, deep down, that the woman could not be blamed for Aemond’s weakness of mind. Because her words had struck a chord inside her. Because if not her, she had no one to turn to at the moment, alone and isolated in a place where everyone bowed to Aemond’s bidding.

Maybe because she found herself enjoying Alys’ company more than she ever did his.

She found in the witch a friend she never had in the Red Keep. They strolled through Harrenhal together, Alys narrating the story behind those walls, and the lives born and lost there. She taught her about medicinal herbs and plants, knowledge forbidden to them as women. Alys had a voice suited for melancholic songs, and she would sing to the lady as she brushed her hair at night before bed, and before returning to the Prince’s rooms. Shared between two spouses who refused to look at one another, and whose only thing in common was their infatuation with the Rivers woman.

The arrangement felt ideal for her, having found in this odd circumstance the closest thing to happiness she had experienced since the day she recited her vows in the Sept. But Alys kept pushing for reconciliation between her and Aemond, urging her to salvage the feeble bridge of their marriage before it sank into the abyss. She felt unwilling, finding great comfort in not being forced to endure his presence. But Alys brought forth a greater problem, a problem which grew by the day under her dress.

“It is only you who can help me, my girl. One day he will tire of me, and me and my babe will be put to death, just as he did my entire House. He had the infants smothered in their cribs before the eyes of their mothers, and the women bury their children with their own hands before their heads rolled. What do you think he will do to a bastard born of another bastard?”

Panic and rage bubbled in her stomach at the thought of losing Alys. She had been witness to her husband’s cruelty during his time as Regent, which only grew after being given free will at Harrenhal. Servants lashed at the faintest of errors, maids with their heads shaved and fingers broken. Executions on the daily, followed by new servants being forcibly dragged from their homes to Harrenhal to maintain the cycle. Anyone who tried to flee ended with their head on a spike and their body fed to Vhagar. It seemed like the curse of Harrenhal had slipped into Aemond’s mind, filling him with blackness and slowly pushing him to the brink of destruction like many before him. And it disgusted her to no end.

No, she could not allow herself to lose Alys. She needed her like she needed to breathe. She needed those motherly hands braiding her hair, that sweet voice entoning the saddest melodies ever written, the scent of her skin embedded in her pillows to soothe her into sleep as nimble fingers caressed her hair. 

For her, she would try.

That night Alys came to her chamber as usual, Aemond with her. Husband and wife stood face to face at last, infelicitous and tense like their first night, their unspoken words lingering heavy in the air. Alys moved to stand behind her, hands on the younger woman’s shoulders. Soft fingertips tracing the curve of the neck, up to the crown of the head and then down to the collarbones; calmness spread through her veins like a salve, warming her to the tips of her toes. Alys’ lips caressed her ear, her words seeping into her brain like smoke and clouding her thoughts.

“Trust me”

Trusting Alys came as easy as breathing. Even as she undressed the lady slowly, taking her time to undo the laces of the bodice and the clasps in her skirts. Peeling away silk, lace and linen, baring soft skin and feminine curves. Aemond’s pupil widened with lust as he stood spectator, witnessing his mistress caress his wife with the greatest love and care. Kisses brushing down the neck and collarbone, gentle hands tracing the curve of the hips and the descent of the thighs, moving over forbidden places as warm lips met into a shy and delicate kiss; tongue against tongue, small sounds of delight escaping through. 

When Alys finally passed her into Aemond’s embrace, she whined in protest. Aemond didn’t know how to touch her. His coarse hands were clumsy on her flesh, too harsh where she wanted featherlight, and not enough effort where she wanted more action. When her husband laid her on the bed, nestled between her thighs, Alys sat at the head, kissing, teasing and fondling while Aemond chased his own pleasure amidst grunts and pants. Alys’ hand snaked down her body slowly, between the breasts and past the navel. She screamed her climax into the woman’s neck, legs instinctively wrapping around Aemond’s hips as he too found his release.

The routine repeated night after night, for weeks on end.

And the more they did it, the more she found herself wishing it was just her and Alys; Aemond’s presence having gone from a necessity to a nuisance. His wife no longer wanted him to touch her, and only withstood on the promise that it would be her favourite witch the one to rip the highest throes of ecstasy from her body. This no longer was just about securing Alys’ safety; she wanted her safe and sound, by her side. Forever. And as she said, one night long after Aemond had left them, only one way they could secure such idyllic future for themselves.

The news of the fall of King’s Landing had reached them not long ago. The relief of Aegon’s disappearance alongside his children could not placate the terror Aemond felt at knowing his mother and sister remained at the Keep, now prisoners of Rhaenyra and her mad husband. Aemond wished for nothing more than to climb Vhagar and torch down the Crownlands, burning the last leaf on every tree to retrieve his family. But he stood put, on Alys’ command.

“You do not need to chase the war, my Prince. It shall come to your door through clouds of storm”

So they sat and waited, as day after day passed with sunny and clear skies, the God’s eye reflecting the blueness, waters calm and inviting. A fortnight after Alys’ vision, the night chilled and the wind picked up. She stood behind the lady, a silver comb in hand as she untangled her hair before bed. Her scent filled her nostrils and eased her fears. Picking up her uneasiness, she brewed her tea, which she fed her slowly, one spoonful at a time.

“All will be well, my child. Our troubles will vanish and our futures will be clearer than the waters in the God’s Eye”

That night Aemond didn’t come. That night belonged only to Alys’ and her little lady. To taste in the seclusion of the chamber what would be theirs for the rest of their lives.

The next morning, grey clouds hovered over Harrenhal, the breeze carrying the smell of rain mixed with sulphur. The high pitched dragon cries echoed in the mountains around the keep, alerting of the approaching danger. Aemond emerged from the tower, a vision of black and gold in his armour, his sword hanging from his belt and a cloak with the three headed golden dragon in his back.

First he bid Alys farewell. She whispered secret words in his ear; whatever she said, it made him set his jaw and tighten his fist around the hilt of the sword. Then he moved onto his wife. He had shown himself warmer and more loving since Alys’ intervention, blissfully unaware of his wife’s feelings. He cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed her like never before, humming against the softness of her sweet lips. She fitted his helmet over his head, tucking the silvery white braid away. The first drops fell from the clouds, and he unfastened his cloak to wrap around her shoulders, providing warmth and safety.

“I shall see you at the end” He murmured the words against her hairline, placing a tender kiss upon her brow.

And with that Vhagar rose to the skies with a deafening screech, the flapping of her leathery wings sending gushes of warm wind around Harrenhal’s dilapidated towers, the empty halls and vast chambers echoing with eerie wails that forewarned the battle to unfold. On the opposite side of the God’s Eye, Caraxes appeared as well, high pitched roars and puffs of smoke sent as a warning, his misshapen body cut over the greying clouds. Once more, dragon against dragon would clash in the sky, and tears would be shed in the wake of their fire. 

Any witness would assume Aemond had the upper hand, the deformed and younger Blood Wyrm being no match for the considerably larger and more experienced war dragon. But dear Alys’ visions had never failed her, and they wouldn’t betray them now. Nor would the gentle poison she had concocted for the occasion, spread across the wife’s lips just moments before she kissed Aemond farewell, not strong enough to kill, but the right dosage to ensnare the senses and befuddle the mind. 

Calm, deliberate steps took her to the top of Kingspyre tower, her path illuminated by the blazing glow of the fire coming in through the windows, the skies tinted in bright hues of red and orange. The wind blew warm and strong as she approached the ledge, ground trembling beneath her feet, reverberated by the clashing of colossal bodies. For a brief moment she feared for her own life when they flew too close to Harrenhal, but the vision had been precise and showed no threat to her life. 

Her hands rested on the stone, ancient dust sticking to the sweat of her palms; heartbeat quickened in anticipation. As predicted, in perfect synchronisation, both dragons widened their jaws. Caraxes pierced Vhagar’s throat, while she tore his wing to shreds and slashed his belly open. Both beasts spiralled downwards, locked onto one another. From afar she couldn’t tell, but it seemed as if a small, black blur fell from Caraxes’ back. Whatever it was, it was soon obscured by the spray of water that rose from the Eye as both dragons sank, the gout as tall as the tower she stood in. When the lake finally settled, all that marked the spot of such a great battle were bubbles and steam rising to the surface, and then silence. A silence like never before had existed.

She remained rooted, hands on the stone, eyes fixed on the middle of the lake until the last bubbles popped under the raindrops. She did not move from her lookout post. Not even as the rain fell stronger, droplets hitting her skin like icicles, aiding into the ruined shell of the freshly grieving widow she pretended to be. 

A knight came to her, nervous and apologetic, calling her attention with a sharp clearing of the throat. She looked up, rapidly blinking away unexisting tears, and dabbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Composed but frail. Dignified even in the face of loss. He waited for any sort of acknowledgement, and when none came, decided to speak.

“We share your sorrow, my Lady, and our thoughts are with you. This has washed ashore, and we thought you may want it” The soldier’s voice did little to sway her, and she didn't even grace him with a look. 

The heavy, loaded silence between them was broken by the soft tapping of female slippers and the rustle of stiffened skirts. A brief exchange of hushed words later, the knight left the rooftop; she remained silent and still until she could no longer hear the metallic clanking of his armour. 

Alys stood by her side, dark curls fluttering freely in the wind. In her pale hands, resting lightly atop the curve of her swollen belly, was Aemond’s helmet, still in pristine condition, not a scratch upon its surface. The older woman stared at it for a few moments before placing it in her hands. It felt final. Like closing a tedious book, or awakening from a bothersome nightmare. The last word in another chapter of history. A chapter written by their own hands.

Alys called her name, moving to stand behind her. A soft kiss pressed at the nape of the neck, slender fingers running down the length of her spine soothingly, making her shiver pleasantly. The smell of sandalwood, lemongrass and honeysuckle engulfed the girl. 

“It’s over” Her words tickled her ear “His name will not be called again, and no good thoughts will be evoked upon his memory”

Another kiss behind the ear, hands on her breasts, pulling her flush against her body “I know your thoughts are troubled, my child, but the right thing has been done. His fire burned too strong, and he would have brought the realm to ashes, including you and me”

Her words were soothing. She was right; Alys was always right. Aemond would have been their demise. They did what they had to protect themselves, and protect the realm. A kinslayer could not be trusted; it had been his nephews before, and any day would be his brother and anyone else who stood between the sapphire Prince and the Iron Throne. He had to be stopped.

“My only regret is that he died not knowing it was me. The one he would have never suspected. I would gladly give all my family’s gold for the chance to tell him, even if it meant paying him visit in the Seven Hells where he belongs”

The neckline of her gown was pushed aside, plush lips leaving a trail of kisses down her neck towards the collarbone, hands sliding down from her bosom to the hips, digging into her flesh.

“Worry not your little head, my girl. That does not matter anymore. His bones will rest forever at the bottom of the God’s Eye. And whatever you wished to tell him, you will soon be able to pass the message along”

Alys and her cryptic words. She loved to speak in riddles and rhymes, unnerving those who heard them and didn’t know better. She only smiled and nodded. 

And then the helmet rolled down.

Her hands remained mid aid, fingers curled around nothing, every muscle tense and trembling. She looked down past them towards the crimson stain growing upon the fabric of her bodice, and the sharp length of blade protruding from between her hips, coated in a red so deep it seemed black, viscous drops falling from the tip onto her husband’s last possession.

The scream died in her lips as the dagger was twisted and dragged upwards, effectively slicing her open like a squeaking boar. But she had not made sound, nothing aside a choked cry of agony as the weapon was brought down again, ensuring the cut along to be neat and thorough

“I truly didn’t want things to end like this, my sweet flower” Same gentle voice and soothing tone, words dripping venom and malice mixed with honey and sugar. Her index traced a slow line from her neck down to the point where the hilt of the dagger was pressed against her back, the carved handle still firmly grasped in her hand

“I truly enjoyed our time together, and you could have been so much more. You have the guile and the guts to match, and your mind is a most resourceful place. You could have achieved greatness, and with my nurturing, no one would have been able to stop you”

Both of her tender, motherly hands placed upon her lower belly, right under the fatal wound. The blood soaked her hands, red on white, and she gasped almost excitedly, basking on the feeling of life spilling on the stone. She did not know how her body was still standing. Perhaps it was the witch’s doing. Dragging on her demise, enjoying the wicked pleasure that came along with having power over someone else’s life. 

She made a shushing sound against her ear, tenderly rubbing her abdomen in circles as the first tears finally poured from her eyes.

“I see it all, you see. Everything and more. I have seen what lies ahead of you. Trust me, I am sparing you from a lot of pain and grief”

The edges of the world faded to black, vision narrowing until all she could see was the dagger. That and  the puddle of her own blood growing at her feet. 

“His blood cannot carry on beyond the confines of Harrenhal. Only this cursed place can halt the strength born of his offspring. But there can be only one”

Her voice sounded distant. The last thing the lady saw was the courtyard, far down but growing closer as her body felt weightless in the air.

“Only one son can be born”

[fadingdreamland]

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!wife!reader x Alys Rivers

Warnings : open relationship, SMUT, threesome (FMF/FFM), spit kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, bathtub sex, not proofread

English is not my first language. Also this is my first time writing smut. Sorry if it's kinda cringe.

2091 words

You entered Harrenhal on foot, surrounded by guards. You had been separated from your husband for months. He had written to you about his lover, Alys Rivers, and you grew curious about her. Not jealous. You and Aemond had had lovers before and even at times shared them. 

The agreement was made when he took you from Storm’s End, right before you wedding. He though that yours would be a loveless marriage. He was wrong. Love grew between you two but it did not stop you from seeking pleasure in others, too. You were almost as promiscuous as Aegon but you hid your depravities well.

The letters your husband had sent you described the encounters he had had with his new lover. Those letters got you extremely turned on. You tried to seek relief by yourself, then with lovers of your own but it was never enough. So you left for Harrenhal without even warning of your arrival.

That must be the reason there was no one to receive you. Heads turned toward you in the courtyard. As if they knew who you were but were not sure. It did not take you long to find your husband.

“Y/N,” Aemond said as you walked into the room. He was with his men around a table, likely planning their next attack against the Blacks. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you that disappointed to see me, husband?”

“Leave us.” Aemond orders to the men and the room clears. As soon as the door is closed Aemond is on you. His lips caressing yours, his tongue in your mouth as he holds you against him and your hands cup his face.

“You could not expect me to stay in King’s Landing after the letters you sent me”

His lips raise in a smirk. “So you did not come al the way from King’s Landing to see me.”

“Your letters got me so wet. Even my lovers could not satisfy me.“

His smile turns even more mischievous as if it were possible. “I have duties, wife. I cannot simply drop them to fuck you.“

“I can wait. In your chambers. With Alys.” You said, slowly caressing his hardening cock through the fabric of his breeches. As he leans in to kiss you again you step away, your hand leaving his cock. “The travel has been long, husband. I would like a bath. And food.”

He nods and less than an hour later you have a warm bath prepared for you in Aemond’s chambers. You take off you cloak and the maid helps you out of your gown. You enter the bath, warm water relaxing you muscles. You sigh in relief.

A knock on the door startles you out of your relaxing time. A woman with black hair enters with a tray overflowing with food and leaves it on the table in front of the bed, a few feet away.

She curtesies to you.“Princess, I am Alys Rivers. Prince Aemond’s maid.”

“Of course, you are.” You turn toward the maid. “Leave. Lady Rivers will help me bath”

The maid nods, curtsies and leaves.

“Please, princess, call me Alys. I am no lady.“

“Then you shall call me by name, too.”

Alys grabs a cloth and kneels beside the bathtub. She rubs your back, and your shoulders, your chest and goes down the valley of your breasts.

“The Prince talked a lot about you. You are as beautiful as he described.” Alys praises in what could be considered a whisper.

“I have heard about you, too, Alys. In Aemond’s letters.”

“Am I as you imagined, Y/N?” The whisper of your name on her lips makes you clench your thighs together.

“I do not know yet. Undress and I will know.”

Alys stares at you. You cannot tell if she is surprised but you can clearly see lust in her eyes.

“Undress, Alys.” You repeat. “I am not asking, I am ordering.”

She stands up and starts taking off her dress, unties her corset then lets the fabric drop on the ground. She is bare to you. The perfect swell of her breasts, her pale skin and her cunt.

“You, too, are as Aemond described.” You finally say after staring at her for a moment that seemed too short to you. 

“What else do you know about me ?” Alys asks.

“People say that you are a witch. They say you have bewitched my husband into fucking you.”

“What do you say?”

“You are a witch, Alys Rivers. But I don’t think you used whatever power you have on my husband.” Your eyes roam her naked body “With breasts like that, a body like yours… There’s no need to use magic to fuck whoever you want”

Alys simply smiles at you. It is not a warm smile or a nice one, it is a rather… lustful smile.

“Join me,” you gesture toward the other end of the bathtub.

Alys does not hesitate or wait and enters the bathtub, sitting opposite you. Her legs brush yours. One of your hands grips her foot and slowly travels up her leg your body following once you reach her knee until you are straddling her lap.

Her face so close to yours that you feel every one of her breaths on your face. Her breasts and yours touching, rubbing against each other. Her hands go to your waist and push you down on her even more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

You lean in, your forehead against hers, your nose rubs against her cheek. You put one hand on the side of her face and kiss her. Her lips are soft, you press your tongue against her lower lip and her tongue infiltrates your mouth. 

One of her hands grabs you hair and tugs at it, your head goes slightly backward and your mouth opens even more. Alys licks your lips and presses against your tongue, she moves to kiss your neck then your chest and finally she gets to your breasts. Her tongue dances all over them driving a sigh of pleasure out of you.

You cannot resist any longer and your hands cup her breasts massaging them, you feel her moans muffled by your breast in her mouth. Your hand moves from her tit to her throat, you wrap your head around it and tug her away from your chest. You lock eyes with her.

“Fuck, Alys. You’re even better than what Aemond told me.”

Alys tucks her lower lip between her teeth. You grab her by her cheeks with one hand, the other still playing with her tit.

“Open your mouth.” She does as you say, her mouth falls open.

You lick the insides of her mouth as she had done to you before and then tou spit in her mouth.

“Swallow.” You whisper. Again, she does as you say. “Tell me, Alys, what did Aemond say you about me?”

“He said that your title may be ‘princess’ but you really are a whore.” You smirk. “He also said that your cunt is divine.”

“I guess I am a whore. But I do not know if my cunt is truly divine. Will you tell me?” You ask her as you lead her hand between your legs.

“Yes. Tell her.” A voice from the door says.You and Alys look toward the voice. Aemond. Heis standing, his back against the closed door.“She never believes me when I do.”

“How long have tou been standing there?” Alys asks.

“Since my wife’s tit was in you mouth.”

You look down his body and notice the tightness in his breeches. You smile, biting you lip.

“Come, husband. We will relieve the pressure in your breeches” You say.

Aemond crosses the room until he is standing beside the bathtub. Alys reaches for his breeches, unties them and lets them fall to the floor. Aemond’s cock springs free. As Alys goes to wrap her mouth around it you pull her face to you and kiss her just as intensely as you had done before. Aemond groans in frustration as Alys kisses you back. 

You pull away out of breath and without breaking eye contact with Alys you bring you husband’s cock to you mouth. You lick the tip and prompt Alys to do the same. You both start kissing and liking Aemond’s cock until you pull it inside her mouth, she starts sucking as you stand up to kiss Aemond. Your husband enters your mouth with his tongue as one of his hands cups your breast and the other is on the back of Alys’ head while he fucks her mouth.

Suddenly you feel something moving over your cunt, you look down and see Alys’ hand cupping it. As you return to kiss Aemond you guide Alys’ fingers to your clit.

She starts rubbing there, you moan into your husband’s mouth. You reach for his eyepatch and pull at it to take it off. You pull away from him to look at his face. Fuck, you love to see him without his eyepatch. 

You feel Alys’ mouth on your clit and moan as you look down and see her hand around Aemond’s cock and her face buried in your cunt. You reach for your husband’s manhood as you kiss him again. You play with his balls, then wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him. This makes Alys focus solely on you as she sucks on your pearl she brings her fingers to your entrance. You put a foot on the edge on the bathtub to give her better access.

She inserts a finger, then another and she pumps in and out. In and out. Your mouth falls open and Aemond uses this opportunity to spit in your mouth, hot liquid invading your mouth. You swallow as you know he likes it.

He grabs Alys by her hair and yanks her up, forcing her to stand up. You whimper at the loss of contact. Aemond spits in Alys’ mouth, then in yours and guides you two to each other. You kiss Alys, this time it is your tongue in her mouth, you taste a mixture of Aemond and you in her mouth and by the gods you’ve never been so turned on.

“I want to taste her cunt,” I tell Aemond as I pull away from Alys.

“Then perhaps it is time to move to the bed,” he answers.

I nod and grab Alys’ hand and lead her out of the bathtub, you push her on the bed. You kneel on the bed as she crawls backwards, farther into the cushions. You feel Aemond behind you, his chest against your back. He got rid of all his clothes. Perfect. He puts his hand to the back of your neck and with one swift movement he brings your face down to Alys’ cunt.

“Fuck her with your mouth,” he orders and you comply.

You lick at her pearl drawing breathless sighs from her. Licking is soon not enough for you and you wrap your mouth around her clit and part of her mouth. You suck, lick, bring your fingers to her entrance. Her hand wraps around your hair, begging for more. Two fingers inside her and Aemond pushes inside you from behind without warning. Tou scream out in pleasure into Alys’ cunt. Aemond’s hard thrusts guide the rhythm go your fingers and tongue on Alys’ cunt. The moans ans groans and skin-slapping sound invade the chamber.

Your free hand goes up Alys’ body until it reaches her tits, you lassie them as you keep your mouth sucking and licking her clit and your fingers go in and out of her.

Aemond slaps your ass making you moan, his thrusts become faster, harder, his hand reechoes around you tu rub your pearl the way he knows drives you crazy and he comes inside you triggering your own release. Alys comes in your mouth as Aemond rides out your orgasm. You lick every drop of Alys’ release. She tastes as good as Almond told you.

Your husband lies down beside Alys as you lie down on the other side of your new lover. After recovering your breath in a few minutes, Alys’ hand reaches to your belly, where your womb is.

“She will carry your child soon, Aemond.” She says. It is not a guess or a hopeful comment, she seems certain of it. She is certain of it.

“So will you,” he answers with a smirk as his cock hardens again.

[ladystarksneedle]

My love is like a blade

cutting through the seams of the heart I wish to guard.

Alys' pov

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A little pre birthday gift for @liv-cole ❤️ Hope you like it lovely 🌹

There is a rot that festers within her, something deep and intangible, mingled with her very being. She's known of its presence since youth, grasping whatever fondness remains in its clutches and turning it to ash, akin to the walls that crumble around her prison. Harrenhal, with its might, charred and blackened, feeds the malice that threatens to engulf her along with its residents, tied to her through blood. Not many of them remain though, with all the men felled like trees in a night, their heads stacked up high in a sign of conquest of yet another dragon a century later.

He prowls the broken manor now, fury emanating from his being as the halls empty themselves at his whim. There's a sickness within him too. Madness claws at him, spilling out from the skies at daybreak only to relent and manifest in another form come night. She finds his eye roving with suspicion, eager to cast his doubts over a willing target unsuspecting of the terror that lies in its wake and there have been many. She's heard their screams of agony, when he leaves, piercing through her as she sits with the knowledge that she could have changed things. She's heard their pleas, in her ears, on their knees, in whatever form they're requested. She wishes to tell them she's blameless, that she cannot quell the drought, the anger of a man so unnaturally wronged that it consumes them all in its unjustifiable vengeance yet her lips remain sealed, dead to the day even as they come alive at night. She knows they hear them together, her ecstasy in the midst of their suffering. The thought ought to tempt her benevolence, the kind where she helped spare the life of the lone squire who strayed on their path yet the action doesn't spring forth like it did then. When she opens her eyes to gaze into one dead and the other alight all she can see is agony of her own, writhing with pleasure found in misery inflicted for so long.

It is what plagues her when she stands by and lets him blaze through all in his path, obliterating his foes in places she hardly finds them to be. His blade turns and twists in her palms drawing blood to blemish the guilt while he sets on a conquest of meaning that burns with the flames. Somewhere deep within she can hear the remnants of a word from another world, hopeful and one begetting joy. It shines through, coating her palms in crimson during the day and glistening with ardor at night, sharp as a blade that twists and cuts through whatever she wishes to hide. The rot remains still, tarnished yet transformed by the blossom of youth through cracks made by an equally broken man.

Taglist: @arcielee @witheredoffherwitch @barbieaemond @succnfuccubus @paprikaquinn @watercolorskyy

[dulcewrites]

Masterlist

Welcome! You can call me Flower. I am a relatively new writer (fanfic wise). This is my side blog so replies/follows will come from dulcelibra. I write basically anything. Fluff, angst etc. So far the fandoms I’ve written for are: Top Gun Maverick, Outer Range, and House of the Dragon. I am open writing for other fandoms so just let me know if you have any request. My inbox is always open. I try to upload or post regularly, even if it is just posting ideas for feedback. That being said, I would appreciate patience. Also I do have works that are ambiguous readers but as a black woman is important for me to represent that in my writing. Please like, reblog, and follow if you see anything you like 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Ao3

Top Gun Maverick

Good Wife: As their marriage goes through a rough patch, Nia finds her reevaluating her relationship with Bradley, and what she signed up for when she said ‘I Do’. Slight character study based on some lyrics from good wife by Kacey Musgraves (Bradley x oc)

Crush Preview

Outer Range

Despite My Better Judgement: Your eccentric but kind hearted best friend tasks you with the duty of throwing “the best bachelorette party ever” in Wyoming of all places. An unexpected night with a brooding cowboy happens.

New Traditions: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises

Moodboard*

House of the Dragon

Fool Me Once (multi part - finished): Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source (Aemond x reader)

Finding Common Cause (multi part- on going): A little white lie on Helaena’s part lands both Aemond and Myrah in situation they can’t get out of (Aemond x oc)

Blood in the Water (multi part - on going): Some will say that the deaths of Lady Laena Velaryon and Ser Laenor Velaryon, daughter and son of the Sea Snake and Queen That Never Was, were the first cracks in the long standing alliance between House Velaryon and House Targaryen. But most claim it was sudden union between Ser Vaemond Velaryon's daughter and the King's first born son. (Aegon x oc)

Intrinsically Linked: Love and Pain are two sides of the same coin. Fluid and never ending. Laena and Alicent both know that all too well.

Drowned in Love (multi part): Love in painful and all consuming, and the three of them would not have it any other way. (Aemond x alys x oc)

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back (paused): Sometimes Aegon is sure that the Gods like playing tricks on him. Your reintroduction into his life only proves that further (modern hotd au, Aegon centric).

Acquired Taste (paused): Sometimes the hungry grows too strong. Edith and Aegon know that all too well. (Modern au Aegon x oc)

Unnerved: Being at court is a game is a game, and your favorite player is a certain long haired prince (Aemond x reader)

Fire & Desire: Many sacrifices have been made to get Aegon on the throne. Including ones made by you (Aegon x reader x aemond)

Paparazzi: Loving Aemond is cherry pie (modern au Aemond centric)

Gone… But Not Forgotten (request): Aemond and you always had a great relationship. But as the Dance of the Dragons begins and tensions rise, you find yourself on the outside looking in (Aemond x reader)

Promises and Premonitions (request): Since finding out you’re with child, you’ve been having the strangest nights (Aemond x reader)

For You Always: you always knew Aemond had a soft spot for you, but you always just assumed it was him wanting to look out for his brother’s wife. Soon you find out that his devotion knows no bounds (Aemond x reader)

Oc list

[lxdyred]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴 | Prologue

TGATB Playlist / Series Masterlist / Chapter I

Summary: Since first grade, more than 15 years ago, the five girls — Strie (Reader), Helaena, Baela, Rhaena and Sara — have been inseparable, from the very moment they were put together in the back row of the class. Then, ever since they became adults, they have religiously gone on a week-long trip by themselves every summer. But this year is different, as one of them has recently been diagnosed with cancer and a group of boys — their brothers and their friends — have decided to join them.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Fem!Reader, Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers, more to confirm… (Poll at the end of the post!)

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. This story is inspired and based on the netflix series 'Las de la ultima fila', the plot of the story will be similar, but all the changes are ideas that have occurred to me / The characters do not belong to me, they are from G.R.R. Martin.

Series Tag-list: Open! (If you are interested just let me know!)

“What are you looking at, eh!?" exclaimed a young woman, no more than 23 years old, as she approached the group of men who kept staring at her and her friends. "You've never seen a group of bald women before or what!? Your parents didn't teach you any manners, hm?"

"Strie! Strong!" Baela mumbled as she went to her friend and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the group of men, as smoke continued to pour from her ears. Strie was furious, to day the least.

"Ladies, let's go over the rules of the trip one last time." Helaena spoke as she closed the circle of friends, not before looking at each and every one of them. Baela, Rhaena, Sara and Strie, she let out a small chuckle as she saw the last one scowling and giving the finger to the group of men she had precisely faced. "Strie, the rules are?" She asked her friend, trying to hide her small smile.

"Girls be for fucking for real, we have the letter 'C' tattooed on our foreheads." Strie said as she made a 'C' with her fingers and brought it to her forehead. “It’s stupid how people—“

"Hey, that's the golden rule. We've agreed that we don't talk about it." Rhaena pointed at her friend and lowered her hand. "We don't talk about cancer or anything related with it. We're going to ignore it completely for a week. As long as the trip lasts."

"Strie is right. You tell me how we're going to ignore the little thing when the five of us are so bald, they can almost see our brains, and everyone's looking at us." Sara spoke as she rested her arm on the Strong girl’s shoulder, with whom she agreed.

"We ignored the little thing and that's it. Heads high, my friend. We've come to enjoy the trip and above all, each other’s company."

"Well said Baela." Helaena nodded and gave a nod of agreement to her cousin. "Well, and the second rule. There's one piece of paper with a challenge to complete. Daily. The sooner we get it out, the more time we have to do what it says."

"Remind me why we do those?" Baela said as she pulled her water bottle out of her bag.

"It's a challenge, a to-do thing, that we have not dared to explore for fear of the consequences..." Explained Strie looking at her friend with a small smile. "...with other people or oneself." She finished saying as she ran a hand over her shaved head.

It still felt weird to feel her head like this. All of them would agree with that.

"I think it's a great game, but can you explain to me WHY THE HELL ARE THEY HERE!?" Baela asked as she pointed her head in Strie's direction, who confusedly followed her friend's gaze and turned around.

Her jaw dropped as she saw a group of five guys, very well known to them. Jace, Cregan, Criston, Aegon and... Aemond. All five came with a suitcase or backpack slung over their shoulders. Jace and Aegon wore amused, mocking smiles on their faces when they saw the group of you women by the gate.

"We had said you weren't coming to Menorca, that it was our holiday destination. Not yours. That's how we decided." Helaena said, crossing her arms as she reproached her older brother.

"It was your decision, Hel." Aegon said, plopping down in one of the seats near the group.

"Of all the places — of all the holiday destinations in the whole world? You have to come to the same one? Gods! How you love to be a pain in the ass." Mumbled the last part Cregan's little sister, frowning.

"Are we really going to keep ignoring the elephant in the room?" asked Jace, looking around at everyone present, especially the women. "Why the fuck are you all bald?" He said running a hand over his older sister’s head.

“Jace, goddammit! Stop that!”

After that, the five girls looked at each other and silently nodded, having come to an agreement without needing to say anything.

"We'll explain it once, we won't repeat it. You will not be able to ask questions for the duration of our holiday." Rhaena said as she looked at the new arrivals, who seemed to be full of questions and curiosity.

"That is the golden rule. You promise to abide by it, each and every one of you." Sara pointed her finger in warning, passing her gaze first to her brother and then to the rest of the boys.

They all nodded, reluctantly.

"Well? Why are you five bald?" Criston Cole broke the silence.

"One of us... has cancer. We're going on a trip just before the first cycle of chemo." Helaena spoke with a sad smile adorning her face, as she took Strie's hand, who in turn took Sara's too.

"Cancer? Who is the one who is sick? Why didn't you tell us anything?" Aemond spoke for the first time, glancing at his sister fleetingly, to focus all his attention then on Strie, who for the first time in six months was able to look him in the eye.

"No questions asked, as we had told you. Not until our holiday is over." Strie pointed out, as she rested her head on Helaena's shoulder, with whom he was still holding hands.

Chaos erupted. All the boys demanded answers, while the girls tried to park the subject. Aemond and Strie remained silent, looking at each other.

He was preparing a mental list of questions he would ask both her and his sister in a week's time.

She, meanwhile, with her heart pounding against her chest and echoing in her ears, could only think of the precise reason why their friendship had gone to shit.

"Remember how we said that between us, the truth always comes first?"

"Yes, of course. What is it Alys? Is there something I can help you with?"

"I find Aemond hot, i like him too. Aaaannd I think he is so into me.”

Even though it had been a bit over six months since that day, the young woman couldn't stop thinking about that New Year's Eve. The cold tone with which Alys, whom she had considered her friend since her first year of university, had said those words, along with the small, smug and arrogant smile she had accompanied them with.

She broke eye contact with him and wished with all her heart that things weren't going to get out of hand that week.

[alysmonds]

alys rivers, witch queen of harrenhal

“Who was this woman? A serving wench who dabbled in potions and spells, says Munkun. A woods witch, claims Septon Eustace. A malign enchantress who bathed in the blood of virgins to preserve her youth, Mushroom would have us believe.“

“Was she in truth a witch who lay with demons, bringing forth dead children as payment for the knowledge they gave her? Was she a simpleminded slattern, as Eustace believes? A wanton who used her poisons and potions to bind men to her, body and soul?”

“Mushroom suggests that the two men had become rivals for the affections of the wet nurse Alys Rivers, who had used love potions and philtres to inflame their passions. Septon Eustace echoes the dwarf in part, but says it was Aemond alone who had become besotted with the Rivers woman, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of leaving her.”

“The castle stood empty no more than three days before Lady Sabitha Frey swooped down to seize it. Inside she found only Alys Rivers, the wet nurse and purported witch who had warmed Prince Aemond’s bed during his days at Harrenhal, and now claimed to be carrying his child. “I have the dragon’s bastard in me,” the woman said, as she stood naked in the godswood with one hand upon her swollen belly. “I can feel his fires licking at my womb.”

“Arriving before the walls of Harrenhal, however, he found the gates closed and hundreds of armed men on the battlements. There were at least six hundred souls within the castle, a third of them men of fighting age. When Ser Regis demanded to speak to their lord, a woman emerged to treat with him, with a child beside her. The “witch queen” of Harrenhal proved to be none other than Alys Rivers, the baseborn wet nurse who had been the prisoner and then the paramour of Prince Aemond Targaryen, and now claimed to be his widow.”

“Don’t come again unless you mean to bend your knees, she says. Any man who comes near her walls will die. There’s power in them stones, and the widow’s woken it.”

Fire & Blood, George R. R. Martin

[bohemian-nights]

I was wondering how you see Alysmond as the white/ reversed Dettles. I'm not hating just curious

Well, to start Daemon and Aemond are literally mirrors of each other(right down to their names).

Both are second sons of House Targaryen who must forge their paths in life since they’ll never inherit the throne. They have both done their share of questionable things to make their mark and they get more caught up with their need for vengeance, personal glory, and the women in their lives, than their responsibilities to their first families.*

*Daemon is married, but he is in an open marriage and Aemond isn’t married, but he’s betrothed to a lady from a great house to the benefit of his family.

Alys and Nettles are both lowborn bastard (non-Valyrian) women without a dollar to their names who have accusations(real or imagined) of witchcraft thrown their way. Both have the chroniclers of the Dance questioning why these powerful princes (who could have anyone they wanted) would ever look their way.

Alys is an old wetnurse though young looking and Nettles is young though “ugly” and Black. They are not who you would typically picture princes of the realm would want and yet Aemond and Daemon are infatuated in love with them to the point where they are willing to do things for them and put their lives ahead of anyone else’s.

Aemond goes back to Harrenhal after having abandoned it to save Alys from Sabitha Frey(this is something he didn’t even do for his mother and sister who were trapped in Kings Landing*) and Daemon chooses to abandon his wife and queen to save Nettles from an untimely death.

*I know he had his reasons for not going back/it probably would’ve been suicide going by himself, but that isn’t the point. He could’ve easily left Alys to her fate, but he didn’t same thing goes for Daemon with Nettles.

Both couples also have a severe age gap (20+ years) which is where in part the problematic accusations come into play (especially for Dettles).

I’ve seen people use the excuse that even though Aemond is a prince Alys is older than him. Hence, it evens out the power imbalance issue in comparison to Dettles, but what good is being older when your man/husband you married (with next to no witnesses) could turn on you at any moment, abandon you, or order your death and no one would bat an eye?

Aemond would never do that cause he cares for her, but he could easily do so and face 0 consequences for his actions, same for Daemon. Age isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card. It doesn’t protect a peasant woman against a prince. Alys has no more power in her relationship with Aemond than Nettles does with Daemon.

And honestly, Nettles does have a dragon. It’s nothing compared to what Daemon has, but she’s not completely powerless. If she didn’t want to be with Daemon based on her character(she’s a fighter) I think she would’ve left Maidenpool way sooner and never looked back.

Now their relationships aren’t carbon copies of each other, and it’s fine to like one more than another or you don’t like either, but the premise and dynamics at play (rich boy falls in love with and saves the poor girl; think Cinderella, but worse 🤣) are pretty much the same.

[misguidedasgardian]

Storm's End

HOTD MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, mention's of children maiming, mentions of virginity loss and blood. READER MIGHT BE DEAD, OR MAYBE DEPENDS, COMPLETELY UP TO YOU, dragon's death though :(

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.5 k

Notes: I know this has been done before, but… this is my way to look at it. You are the daughter of Rhaenyra, she sends you to Storm’s End instead of Luke, and this is what ensues

You know you should have turned back the moment your dragon took flight away from Dragonstone. 

There was something in the air

Grandmother Rhaenys, and your dear brothers flying by your side soothed you, made you remember you were not alone, but they soon parted way with you, Jace went North, as did Lucerys, Rhaenys went west, and you continued south

Towards Storm’s End

Those stormy clouds in the horizon must have been your first dark omen, but you didn’t pay attention to them, or to anything else really

Your mind was set

You had begged your mother to let you helped her, so she send you to the closest place, a short fly, a message delivered, and then you could return.

But what were you going to say?

you wanted to believe your mother’s words, that Lord Borros was going to be honored to receive you there, you were a young princess, no real threat, only a messenger, he was going to respect you, you were going to say your piece, and then you were going to take his answer back to your mother, as easy as that.

You held tightly onto your dragon’s reins as you flew amidst a cloud with rain within, getting you drenched within second

Karnax, under you, roared softly, feeling your uneasiness, trying to make you feel safer, and you did.

It was not relief what you felt when you saw the tall tower of Storm’s End in the horizon, it actually felt like your stomach had turned on itself, but that is the second sign you decided to ignore

Karnax was small, bigger than Arrax and a bit than Vermax, but he was still small enough to land in the outer courtyard, and you did 

Your saddle was wet, and you slid right off of it, landing heavily with your boots in the ground. 

You jumped when the light of a thunder brightened the sky for just a second, and then moments later the thunderous sound made the floor shake.

Karnax whined when you touched him, trying to soothe him, he was nervous, and soon you learnt why

Another, even louder, more monstrous sound made you flinch, and when you looked over the huge defensive walls of the castle, there she was. Vhagar raised her head, dwarfing the constructions covering her, growling as a warning.

She was indeed the largest and most dangerous dragon in the world

And she was here

That means that Aemond was also

Probably doing the same thing as you, trying to rally Lord Borros to his cause, to his side

To the Usurpers

The prospect of seeing your uncle made you tremble in fear, you had always been afraid of him, ever since he lost his eye, even more so after the last time you saw him

You have eavesdropped a conversation in which he had asked for your hand in marriage and Rhaenyra had crudely rejected him, he did not reacted well

It did not help that it was the same day of the Driftmark trials

He had frighten you so much your mother send you back the same night, only a few weeks away 

“Sobes Karnax, Lykyri”, you whispered soothingly, patting her snout, he whined, worried, but it was too late now, you couldn’t back down, you wondered if you were trying to calm him, or expected that he would sooth you back. 

So ignoring your body, mind, heart, soul, dragons, the weather and everything in existence around you, you decided to walk towards the guards guarding the entrance to the Castle

“I have a message for Lord Borros from Queen Rhaenyra”, you said quickly, before you lose your momentum, they barely nodded and started walking, you followed suit, trying to fix your drenched clothes

The Storm had catched up with you.

You could still hear it raging behind you as you entered the main hall of the castle of the Baratheons, you had never been here before, and it amazed you the immensity of it, it was rounded and at least three stories tall, ending in a huge vault over your heads, front here you could see multiple passages leading to the rest of the construction, but you could look no more

“The Princess (Y/N) Velaryon”, presented the guard, “Daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen”

Queen

You thought bitterly, as you found Lord Borros seated on his throne.

But your gaze was immediately taken away

Aemond

He stood at the side of the throne, standing straight by one of Borros’ daughters, as he heard your name he immediately turned

He looked dangerous

Dresses head to toe in black leather, his hair combed perfectly, the eyepatch cutting his face in half

You wondered if he could notice you trembling from that far

You guessed he could since he looked terribly amused at your presence, his naturally curved lips smirked.

But you didn't came here for him, you turned your gaze towards to the Lord of the Stormlands

“Lord Borros, I brought you a message from my mother, the Queen”, you didn’t realize you had a stone inside your throat until now, almost choking in our own words, you were thankful for the acoustic of the place or else nobody could have heard you

“Yet early this day I received an envoy from the king”, he said then, “so which is it? King or Queen? the House of the dragon doesn’t seem to know who rules it”, he was already crossed with someone or something and you cursed yourself for being so weak, sounded so pathetically 

And then he laughed at his own joke and you shook, perhaps he was laughing at you

You looked fleetingly at Aemond

Perhaps to make sure he stood where he was

He frightened you

You begged the gods to make him stay there, as he stood, unmovable like the statues of Dragonstone 

“What’s your mother’s message?”, the Lord of Storm’s End did not take well to your distraction, so you tried your best to reach with your arm and this one not to shake, to prove to everyone there, to Lord Borro’s daughters, him, your uncle, and the court, how scared you were

A soldier took your message hastily and gave it to the Lord

He sighed, frustrated, and call in the maester

In a silly second you thought fleetingly of your brother’s giggles when you tell them the rumors were true and indeed Lord Borros didn’t know how to read, you remembered fleetingly that you suggested it was because he had hit himself many times on the head while jousting

But you shook those thoughts away, when you felt the small hairs in the back of your hair stand up, as Aemond’s deep gaze was on you

For a second, only the wind making the stones whistle as sing could be heard, and then the ruffling of paper the maester made while reading the letter.

Your uncle’s gaze didn’t leave you for a second, so you tried to look away from him, only stealing glances to make sure he hadn't move

That he was still several feet away from you, with people in between you

You didn't want him near you

He frightened you

He hated you

You knew this 

“Remind me of my father’s oaths?”, asked Borros, enraged, you turned to look at him, scared, “King Aegon at least came with an offer, my banners and swords for a marriage pact”

Poor girl, you thought briefly 

“If I do what your mother bids, who of my household will you marry, girl? uh?”

“My lord…”, you could turn this around, you could, you needed to try, to explain, to plead to his honor, “I’m not free to marry, I’m already betrothed to Cregan Stark”, you said, and you were not completely lying, your big brother was flying North now with the proposal in his hand

Aemond hummed mockingly at your words, so your gaze landed on him again.

He still was amused, even more so now, you shook in your place, trembling like a leaf in the autumn winds 

“So you come with empty hands”, said Borros, more angry than before, “go home pup, and tell your mother the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog she can whistle up in need to set against her enemies”, he said rapidly

You had failed

You tried to swallow your tears as the stone in your throat but you just couldn’t do it

“I shall take your answer to the Queen, My Lord”, you whimpered, and when you looked at the pity in the daughters’ faces you realized your voice did sounded broken and defeated

Weak

You turned to leave, sad because you failed, but relieved that this had come to an end

“Wait”, you trembled in your place, stopping immediately at your uncle’s call.

You turned slowly, fearfully, to look back at him

“My lady Strong”

You whimpered

“Uncle?’, you were acknowledging him, but it sounded more like a question

Weak

“Did you really think you could just fly upon the realms, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

You are the thieves

But the words never reached your lips, instead you wanted to hide your head between your shoulders, almost feeling ashamed

That much power Aemond had over you, the power to make you feel like you were in the wrong, and he was in the right

Ever since that night

When your little brother took his eye

The girl by his side took a step back, like giving him space, and that made you take a step back, less and less things could protect you from your uncle, your hand instinctively went to the pommel of the short sword your stepfather Daemon had begged you to carry, you didn’t know how to use it, but nonetheless… it couldn’t hurt

“I will not fight with you uncle, I came as a messenger”, you said, your voice, again, broken, weak, with fear and sadness

You had failed 

“A fight would be little challenge”, he said dismissively

“I’m aware”, you admitted, if it came to blows, you stood no chance against his incredible skill with the sword, even if you meant a fight with words filled with poison

“No…”, his hand went to his eyepatch, and form one single movement he took it out of his face, revealing a sapphire where his eyeball should be

You whimpered, taking a step back

It had taken you by surprise, not that you found him monstrous, or anything, it was just… incredible

“...You brother is indebted to me”

You really wished, in the bottom of your heart, that he would have let this go, if not for your brother, for himself, but he didn’t he hasn't, and that made him so incredible dark, resentful, twisted and mean

And that is what you were most afraid of 

“It was an accident…”

“I want you to pay instead”, you whined, taking a step back

“I have nothing…”

“A small payment in blood will suffice…”, you looked at Lord Borros, alarmed, he clearly was not meant for THAT, did he? Did he plan on slaying you there where you stood?, in front of all this people?

“...I will not breed you”, a single tear escaped your eye at his crude words, “I plan on gifting our bloodied sheets to your mother”, you looked back at the Lord of Storm’s End and he looked back at you, concerned

This was the man supposed to wed one of his daughters

“No!”, you cried, in defense of yourself

“So you are a craven as well as a traitor, as your brothers…”

“Not here!”, Borros finally intervened, but still you could not breathe, you were terrified

You never wanted to believe the gazes your uncle gave you were ones of desire, and dark intentions of bedding you, you never thought… 

“GIVE YOURSELF TO ME, OR I WILL TAKE YOU BASTARD!”, you shrieked as he advanced on you with certain and long steps, you stumbled backwards trying to prevent him getting near you

“NOT IN MY HALL!”, the thunderous voice of Borros made him stop in his tracks, “the girl came as an envoy, I will not have bloodshed of any kind beneath my roof”

Lord Borros’ words came of little comfort, not when your uncle had taken a dagger of his belt and was threatening you with it, the storm outside, the lightning made his sapphire gleam meanly

“Take the princess back to her dragon, now!”, commanded Lord Borros and you, giving a titanic effort, managed to walk (and not sprint at high speed) out of the hall

Aemond watched you go and smirked, making the dagger dance in his hand

You were his to take

He looked back at the girl he had begun to court to notice she was far away from him now, clearly scared of him

“I will be back shortly to resume negotiations”, he said meanly

“Don’t bother”, said Floris, standing now next to a guard, she would not like to be courted by him now, “I’m not interested in a man that is pure bark and no bite”

When you stepped outside, the storm was raging, you were drenched in second, wet from head to toes, but you couldn’t paid no mind to such things now

Karnax felt your fear, how frightening you were and he advanced towards you whining and growling desperate

“Lykiri Karnax” [calm], “gūrogon īlva hen kesīr” [take us out of here] 

Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong, you let your tears fall freely now that nobody could notice nor see you, another Lightning broke the skies from afar and when you turned…

Vhagar was gone

There was no way he could have left before you, it couldn’t, it wasn’t possible

He was in negotiations with the Baratheons, you had to go, so he wouldn’t catch you.

You thought he was going to let you be, because it had been your brother who took his eye, not you

Oh how wrong you were

“Why?”, you cried, trying to make sense of it all as you climbed onto your dragon’s saddle, “Sobes, Karnax”, you called, he growled but obeyed you, he also wanted to get out of here.

You needed to get back to your mother, to Dragonstone, to your brothers and stepfather, they needed you, but you somehow knew that wasn’t going to be possible, a crippling fear took a hold in your body, you felt like you could barely move, your body being so tense. 

The rain hit your face with strength, the highers you flied, you only secured your staps tightly and held into your reins hardly 

Karnax flapped his wings with difficulty, but he succeeded in keep flying, you wanted to relax, you were flying away from Storm’s End, the Baratheons, your uncle, everyone, but something told you it wasn’t going to be that easy

You wanted Karnax to fly faster, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach 

You whimpered in fear

something was wrong, terribly wrong

You felt a low growl coming from above and you cried, lowering your head, not wanting to face it, face him, and what he was going to do to you once he had you within his grasp

He was coming for you 

And the moment you took to the skies, you raised the bet, he was not simply going to take you now, he couldn't not flying like this...

He rode the largest dragon in the world and you one of the smallest

You grabbed into your reigns and hoped Karnax would fly faster, but you couldn’t ask more of him of what you were already asking

You gained the courage to look up and you got a glimpse of a large looming shadow over you

Why?, you whimpered, crying harder, and Karnax growled

Why you?, you loved him once, you were friends, you played, and read together as kids, you had promised you could share little Karnax, and he had agreed. 

But he got his own dragon, the largest in the world, and from that moment he pushed you aside and called you a bastard despite your Targaryen features and the fact that he had never called you that

He almost killed your brothers and then Luke took his eye.

After what transcurred in Driftmark with the Queen and your mom Aemond had come to your room in the hour of the bat, you woke up with a knife in your cheek and him over you, his hand in your throat

You never knew why he had come to your chambers and not luke’s or jace’s 

He always knew you were the weakest one

You were a woman, he was a man 

You looked ahead and shrieked once again when you saw Vhagar coming at you amongst the dark stormy clouds, at full speed

“NO!”, she changed her trajectory, going up in the last second, her feet and claws passing right by you, you could even feel them passing right by your head

Please

You were going to die

You could hear Aemond’s laugh, ricocheting amongst the clouds 

He was amused by you

He hated you 

 And now he was going to kill you.

Karnax growled, scared too out of his mind, you could feel him, deep in your gut, the pure and sheer instinct to fight or fly kicking in, and both of you opting for the latter 

just when you thought you had lost him, you heard the flap of huge wings behind you, you turned to look, and Vhagar huge open jaws appeared trough the storm, ready to swallow you whole.

But Karnax was fast, and Vhagar liked to play with her food 

“I see you!”, you heard from behind, and the sound that Vhagar’s jaws made when they close grabbing into thin air made your skin prickle, “Libōnos”, [bastard] 

Your body was tense as a bow, you could barely feel your legs that were tightened around your saddle, the water, despite your leather cape, has got under the clothes, and froze you all over, that you felt like you were made of ice, you could barely move, your fingers were not going to survive this even if you did

Vhagar was still behind you as you commanded your dragon to fly downwards, to gain speed

You made him turn and twist in the air, but to no avail, the monstrous Vhagar had her eyes set on her prey and she was not going to let go, you use your whole body and strength to pull her to make her change her trajectory from one moment to another, she might be bigger, but you were faster

Deep down you knew it was all going to be for nothing

He was coming for you

He hated you

And you could hear his sick laugh as he was laughing in your ear

You soon could make out the sea under you and as you looked to your left there was a cliff splitted in two, a risk in the middle, you had a change, you might be able to flight in between, but Vhagar wouldn’t

Your dragon read your mind and went there, seeking refuge 

It has worked, you looked back to see VHagar fighting to make her heavy body fly upwards, your uncle’s grunts cut trough the air reaching you, it was insane

He was insane

He had a grudge for 8 years, boiling and simmering in rage, anger, and sadness, and you were the one that was going to get the worst of it

You felt relieved even, that it was you and not sweet Lucerys

Better you than him 

“JĒMELÃ GÊLŸNI ENKÂ!”, he screamed [you owe me a debt], “BYKA!”, little one

Karnax flied diligently through the cliffs and rocks, you looked up and he was still there, chasing you, looming over you

“I lied!”, you heard then, “I will give you my bastard”, a pain spread through your chest, all your sorrow, pain, fear, exploding, taking a hold on your body, preventing you from breathing properly, even with the skies falling upon your head, with your life in your uncle’s hands.

You screamed when Karnax again flew in open skies as the protection of the cliff was taken away. It was a scream of agony, frustration, and fear

Oh so much fear

 But the gods, or whomever, granted you a small mercy, the clouds were thick and the sea was a few feet under you, they concealed you from your predator chasing you. 

You took a shaky, long breath, despite the lump in your throat present since you left Dragonstone

You needed to get yourself together 

Keep flying North, soon the skies will clear, you couldn’t let fear control you….

Fear

The last thing you heard was Vhagar growling, and Karnax high screeched when the biggest dragon in the world sank her teeth in him, catching his legs and tail, completely destroying him.

“AH!”, you barely got a scream yourself, she didn’t catch you, but so did half your dragon, now dead.

“VHAGAR! NO! NO VHAGAR!”, is the last thing you heard

The next?

The white noise of water, all around you, the cold grasping you, hugging you tightly, not letting you move as the water moved around you taking you prisoner 

For better or worse, Vhagar’s had completely destroyed the saddle, releasing you, and now you were there, by a gift or a curse from the gods, amongst the dark tides of Shipwreck bay, sinking slowly, finally you didn’t feel more fear, only the instinct to survive.

You were a true Velaryon at last. 

[witchofhimring]

Younger and more beautiful

This series is being edited. I feel Alys came off as one dimensionally evil and the reader as a pretty flat character. So this will be heavily edited.

Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear

Pairings:

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Part 2: Until there comes another

Part 4: To cast you down and take all you hold dear

Warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of stillbirth/miscarriages, death

Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear.

To this day the words that both enthralled and haunted the Queen hovered over her dark head like a specter. It echoed as a constant reminder. She had become Queen and Alys had never felt more victorious. But every time the elation came, the rest would come roaring back.

Younger and more beautiful

To cast you down and take all you hold dear

As she sat proudly on her throne the ladies danced bellow. Alys had made sure that every one of her handmaidens were either less attractive or older than herself. Helped if they were both. But she could not banish every woman who could capture her husbands eye. Every time her husbands eyes drifted over the crowd Alys wondered if they were searching for a woman. She tried to convince herself that she was young, beautiful, and the King loved her. One of the Tyrell girls, sporting a beautiful head of auburn curls and sparkling blue eyes, ascended the stairs. She was on the arm of her father. Alys's fingers curled into her palm. "Lady Redwine." Alicent Hightower walked towards the woman. Of course the meddling old hag invited the woman. If Alys had her way the Dowager Queen would be out by now. But Aemond loved his mother. Anxiety clawed at Alys as she knew Alicent was the only person left in her way. Y/n was locked away and Daenerys was Gods know where. "Son." Without even using titles, Alicent advanced up the steps and embraced her son. All Alys received was a cold look. Alys had thought that maybe the Dowager Queen would take her side. After all, it was well known that Alicent did not get along with Y/n. But it seemed her dislike of the thrones newest occupant outweighed the old. One day, Alys would deal with her.

Her face ached from her daily ritual. Alys scrutinized each inch of her skin. There where no spots blemishing her pale skin. No wrinkle in sight. Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. She was still as lovely as when Aemond first fell in love with her. Pale fingers traced over her slightly swollen belly. Soon Y/n would know that Alys had accomplished what she had not. Satisfaction dwelled within her as she thought of Y/n's less than flattering body. Alys had always been careful to watch what she ate. No morsel of food passed her lips without thorough inspection. She doubted Y/n had been as vigilant. Hence why Alys never felt any pity for the woman. Y/n had taken her position for granted and lost everything. That was her fault, not Alys's.

Aemond Targaryen entered, still dressed in his kingly finery. Alys felt desire in the pit of her belly. Elegantly she got to her feet, the emerald train following her. Aemond gave her a sultry smile, noticing immediately that she wanted him. "My love." She sighed and placed her arms around his neck. Kisses littered his cheeks as they made towards the bed. "Stay with me tonight?" Alys's hair flowed down her back out of its up do. She knew what his answer would be, he had never once denied her. Alys was laid out of the former Queen's bed and pulled her husband close.

The contractions started early in the morning. By midday Alys was doubling over in pain. They had given her a small draft of milk-of-the-poppy and herbs, but it did little do dull her agony. Once nightfall fell Alys could barely breath. "Just one more push Your Grace!" The midwife could see the head. With one last almighty push Alys's child made their way into the world. Alys collapsed onto the sheets, exhausted but feeling elated. She had done it. She had given the King his heir. Now they would accept her as Queen. Soon Y/n and her bastard daughter would get word of her victory. "Hand him to me." Alys had forced herself to sit up. The midwifes looked at eachother before the bravest among them spoke. "My Queen, it is a girl."

Aemond looked down at their newborn daughter, Princess Aelena. Alys could hardly look at the baby. Her daughter was small with silver hair. A true Targaryen, but not a boy. Aemond picked up the girl and cradled her against his chest. "She's beautiful." His voice was quiet. Alys could not tell what her husband thought. He showed no outward signs of displeasure, but that did not mean Aemond was happy. Sometimes he was so hard to read. "I am so sorry." Alys cast her eyes downwards, praying he would not be angry with her. Aemond placed the baby down in her crib. With a sigh he walked over to Alys and sat down next to her. "I am happy to have a daughter. And we conceived her quickly, sons will follow."

"Yes. sons will follow."

It had been a dark day, the sun remaining hidden. On that day Alys, in all her curiosity, snuck into the woods. She had heard legends of a wood witch in its depths. Alys was not frightened, had never been frightened. When she wanted something she got it. Deeper she went. As as she treated along the forest floor she noticed there was no noise. Not even the twittering of a bird. The air became denser and her head started to spin. Still, the stubborn young woman pushed on. Finally, in the midst of a great swamp was a hut. It sat right in the middle. Through the thin fog Alys realized that crossing would be no easy challenge. She paced around for a while and thought of what to do. Eventually she noticed there was a path of rocks barely visible above the murky water. Tentatively she placed a foot on one of them. It was stable enough. Steeling herself, Alys set out. Rock over rock she went. She practically flew the last few steps. There was no door. Just some cloth hung, as if that could do the witch any good. She brushed the fabric aside and looked in. There was a fire in the center. But that was all she could make out. "You have come." Alys swallowed back a gasp. From the corner emerged a cloaked figure. She was old, very old. 'Step in." Alys obeyed.

"Are you sure this is wise My Queen." Questioned a meek Lady. Alys sat on her chair, crown on head. She had brought baby Aelena with her today. So that Lady Floris might see that she had triumphed over her former mistress. Floris Baratheon had been living in a self imposed exile since Y/n had left. But the King had ordered her to return to court. Today, Alys would show her who was Queen. "Lady Floris." Floris was only a little younger than Y/n, but she looked younger than Alys had expected. Much to Alys's disgruntlement it seemed Y/n's death had not dulled her beauty. She had dark brown hair that flowed behind her like a veil. Brown eyes held a golden hue to them. Unblemished skin showed none of the wears of the past four years. What was even more insulting was the fact she wore black. As a mere lady, Y/n was entitled to no more than a few weeks of mourning from her close friends and family. But she noticed many in black. They protested that black was quite fashionable these days, but Alys knew better. "My Lady, we welcome you to court." Alys straightened herself. Floris held a look of cool disinterest. Her arrogance angered the Queen. Then an idea occured to the Queen. A smile curled her lip. "My Lady. The King and I have considered this, and believe that you are the best candidate to act as governess to Princess Aelena. As you did such a good job looking after his bastard daughter I think you should agree." Rage flashed through the lady's eyes. Of course Alys would never let Floris be alone with her precious girl. Others would keep an eye on her. It would give her great satisfaction to have the lady toil away in service to the rightful princess.

Floris watched the baby tottle towards one of the ladies. She was still so so tired from all the errands Alys had her do. It seemed Alys was determined to make her pay. Floris reckoned that Alys would try and break her down and take all she held dear. But little did the foolish Queen realize this was not a surrender. Floris had contacted supporters of the deceased Queen to put the rightful heirs on the throne. She just had to spy and get what information she could. When the King appeared all three curtsied. The baby giggled and grabbed towards her father. Floris felt a thrill of anger as he cuddled the baby. Not at Aelena, but Aemond Targaryen. Here he was pretending he only had one daughter when there was another whom he had banished. Hatred for Aemond and Alys stirred in her heart. After everything her dear friend had been forced to suffer made her want to weep with rage. She hoped that one day the two of them world be forced to suffer as much as the late Queen had.

That was when an idea occured to her.

"I shall be Queen!" Alys was overwhelmed with the possibility her future might bestow on her. Queen. Oh to be the greatest woman in the land! But the witch just shook her head. "I am not done." Alys froze. "I shall not be Queen?" "You shall." "Then what is the rest?" And the words that haunted Alys for the rest of her days were uttered. "Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear." As Alys stepped out of the hut she swore to herself she would never let that happen.

And with that, she sealed her destiny.

Six months later:

Planning a rebellion had been easier than expected. Likely they never expected the King's daughter to rebel against her. Daenery's had always been an obedient daughter. Her father was her lord and King. The made who took her on Vhagar, read her stories and night and danced with her when she was little. But she loved her mother more, who had fought for her till the end. At nineteen Daenerys was no longer a little girl. Aemond Targaryen was no longer her world. In the past four years she had gone from princess to rebel. "My Queen. A letter." Viserys Targaryen, her betrothed, handed her a letter. She saw the wax "F" stamped on the front. She smiled. "It is from Lady Floris. It's time, and I think you have a dragon to claim."

Note: Last part is up next!

Taglist:

@watercolorskyy

@bellstwd

[aemondseyepatch]

Aemond Targaryen and Alys Rivers | Desire

[thewitchqueenofharrenhal]

Aemond and Alys walked so Bloodraven and Shiera could run.

[ladystarksneedle]

Softcore

Summary: Alys relishes in the sweetness of revenge with a kindred spirit.

Word count: 400

Dividers by @djarrex

“What have you seen?” he asks her bluntly in accordance with their arrangement these few moons, transactional with a tinge of trust.

She feels the air shift around her as she descends, flexing her fingers by her side with discomfort. The Tower of Dread looms behind her as she glides through the open sky, the moon greeting her as she makes her way forwards with purpose. She spots him at the entrance, staring into the giant hearth, still like the absence of the habitual winds haunting the land. It is the hour of ghosts in the Hall of Hundred Hearths, the giant chambers that gloat of the residence of thousands yet their shadows remain the ones that cling to the walls. He doesn't turn to acknowledge her presence, simply lifting his head to stare at the mantelpiece above, a myriad of swords crossed over each other in formation much like the throne he seems to covet yet despise all the same.

“Nothing of significance” she responds playfully, surprising them both.

He turns to her then, displeased before she sees his eye widen in shock. The flicker of emotions that pass through that otherwise unfeeling gaze makes her smile, for in his stare she sees something of her own. Appall and wonder shine through the mirror that dangles between them as she stands before him, suppressing her glee to twirl, turning to the fire for comfort instead.

“I was owed a debt” she finds herself admitting after a pause, vague yet hopeful.

“So it seems” is all he remarks, still gazing at the droplets that cling to her. Rivulets of red coat her skin from the tips of her lashes to the womb she's tormented far too many times, blazing maroon in the light as she regards him again.

“You shall need this in the days to come” he says, cocking his head as he takes in the sight before him without a hint of discomfort.

“My thirst for blood?” she smirks inching closer to the warmth he emits. She feels him bring his palm to her face, clammy yet certain as he runs his fingers along her cheek tracing a droplet all the way to the muck on her chin before bringing it to his lips.

“Your penchant for winning” he says before tasting her victory. Blood, she thinks, has never tasted sweeter than on lips that desire the same.

Taglist: @arcielee @witheredoffherwitch @barbieaemond @succnfuccubus @paprikaquinn @watercolorskyy

[sunnysideaeggs]

Sudden realization: Alys Rivers was a wetnurse, and as such, she was probably required to constantly be lactating (therefore having to be pregnant or given birth recently), and couldn’t possibly keep all those babies as they wouldn’t have survived, their mother poor and having to feed a baby of higher ranking.

So mayyyybe my girl wasn’t a witch and was forced into pregnancy (with high SA implications) to constantly be producing milk for the Strong family (which is inhuman and I’m pretty sure in the Middle Ages they didn’t even treated cows that way, she had less rights than a cow) and having to be mistreated and being a servant on top of that. Imagine how happy she was when Aemond came and slaughtered all that wretched people.

[imcherrycola]

Ok, I changed my mind, just imagine Gong Li as Alys Rivers. I mean look at her, she is very gorgeous to me.