#aemond targaryen x snow oc

[howyouloveyourdragon]

ao3 fic rec -

i have just finished reading the current chapters of An epitome of grace by @beaconofthehightower and i am SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

pronouns: she/her pairing: aemond targaryen x snow oc warnings: 'bastard', smut, pregnancy, (mild) violence

YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS OUT ON THIS SERIES IM TELLING YOU

IM NOT EVEN AN AEMOND GIRLIE AND I AM CLINGING FROM A LEDGE TO HEAR THE NEXT PART

YA'LL DON'T UNDERSTAND

I AM NOT OKAY

I AM NOT OKAY

MISS MA'AM YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM MY LAWYERS FOR EMOTIONAL DISTRESS

OBVIOUSLY MY POST CONTAINS SPOILERS!!!! SO SPOILER WARNING BRR BRR

Chapter One:

Growing up as a bastard daughter of House Stark in the north was not easy. Something Ylva had learned very quickly as a child, her Snow name a stain on the honor of Rickon Stark. 

i genuinely love that miranda has gone through the effort to establish bastard/trueborn dynamics, expectations and consequences

Cregan was the same, doing whatever he could to make her laugh or smile after one of the maids or servants said something cruel or one of her cousins taunted her for being weak and a girl, to boot.

pls he's so ahsjsjsk

"One of the kitchen maids called me a bastard. She said that you and my mother-" he patted his leg, a silent command for her to come closer. "I admit I may not have loved your mother, aye." He said after she had settled. "But I will not say I did not care for her in some way." He said, his hand warm against her head. "You are my daughter. My blood. Your name does not matter here." For all his failings, Rickon Stark had still been her father. She had been cast adrift when he died, grief turning her world bleak, having been closer to him than her siblings were, her sadness buoyed somewhat by the efforts Sara and Cregan made. 

YOU JUST HAVE TO TRUST ME THAT HER AND CREGAN'S RELATIONSHIP IS THE BEST THING EVER OKAY?

The ache of his death had faded slightly as the years flew by, and life went on as if he'd never been there at all.

establish the beginnings of grief >>>>>

"No!" Sara Snow's high voice chirped, followed by another giggle.

i love love love that sara is still in the story like a lot of fics use reader as a replacement for her which i understand but ugh i love siblings dynamics in fic

Aemond Targaryen had to be the loveliest thing she had ever laid eyes on. 

A quicksilver flash of midnight dark hair behind Lord Stark caught his attention, his hushed words trailing off. 

skskskksks pls

"My sister." Before he could reply further, the steward of Winterfell leaned closer to speak lowly in his ear, causing his brow to furrow and a frown to appear on his mouth. "Forgive me, Prince Aemond. It seems there is a matter I must attend to." 

PLS HE'S SO DONE LMAO

"Lord Stark named me Ylva."

again with bastard dynamics ahsjsj the fact that she would call him 'lord stark'

"You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen." Aemond admitted unashamedly one time when she had, his eye on her face. Fighting against the blush that threatened to cover her cheeks in bright tones of red, Ylva placed the tome down and stepped toe to toe with him yet again. "Careful, silver Prince-" she said, eyes gleaming silver as she pressed against his front.

PLS

THEY GIVE ME FEELS ALREADY

Father would've scolded her if he'd been here, if he could've seen her now, lusting after a prince. 

oOp-

 "I want to kiss you." he said again.

THE AUDACITY OF A PRINCE I SWEAR

"You're a prince. The brother of the King. You can have anything you want. Anyone you want." his eye went half-lidded as he looked down at her. "And If I want you?"

screaming crying throwing up

it gives me the fuzzies

"Will you give yourself to me?" Ylva bit back a cry when his mouth fell to her neck. "It's rather too late for that-" another gasp came tumbling out of her throat, this one higher pitched than the last. She shuddered when goosebumps erupted on her skin as his hands pushed her skirts up. "Aemond-" She held him against her tighter, gasping. "Say it again-" 

ASHSJSJSJS

"You will not leave me like this." 

👀

his fingers combing through her dark hair. 

i love this both in fic and irl fr fr fr

"Will you teach me High Valyrian?" Ylva asked, 

AJSSJSK

Wounds littered their bodies in the form of bloody bitemarks, scratches and a cacophony of bruises that painted their pale skin in violent tones of black and blue.

👀

Prince Daeron

PLS I AM SUCH A DAERON DEFENDER

"When was the last time you bled, Ylva?" One of the sweeter maids had asked her, after Aemond had been gone for a month

NAHHH MIRANDA? MISS MA'AM???

Chapter Two:

her fingers twisting a ring that Aegon had given her in her hands

THE DETAIL >>>>>>>>>>>

“A dragon's egg nestles in the snow…" 

babe really out here with the best tea you know that if i was in westeros that i would be demanding daily tea sessions

“The princes Aemond and Daeron and the dragons Vhagar and Tessarion have been sighted just outside the city, Your Grace.” 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (my underappreciated king)

He did not mention dare Ylva to his mother, knowing she would not react well to it. That she would see nothing past the taint of Ylva's bastardry and her Snow name.

yet you've been gone for half the year."

Feeling vindictive,

ugh i love when he serves cunt

"I'll summon you again, Erea. Tell the White Worm you are mine and mine alone, pretty thing." Aegon set a heavy pouch of coins in her hand,

suddenly im changing the first 2 letters of my name (okay but fr my girl helaena doesn't deserve that)

"Brother!" Aegon's purple eyes were dark as glared at Aemond, silver brows lowered angrily. "Erea! Don't listen to him!" Aegon shouted at her back, sinking his teeth into his brother's hand when it shot out and covered his mouth.

I LET OUT A LOUD ASS CACKLE I SWEAR

"She’s a freak.

Thoughts of Ylva a chain around his ankles

ooOOoo i love that

Aegon leaned his elbows on the table, attention focused on Aemond now. “It is when it’s all mother and grandfather speak of.” he said casually, as if he was merely speaking of some trivial insignificant thing. “Shall I order you to tell me? As your king?”

this bitch-

Aegon snorted. "He’s not a dog to be kept on a leash, grandfather. He’d bite and snap at us all to bits if he were.” Alicent sighed deeply, knowing her eldest son was right.

PLS--

Alicent blinked against the tears stinging her eyes. “He’s my son. Of course I have.”

my wife <3

Before Criston Cole put the conqueror’s crown on his head.

👀

"Do not ever-" Aemond seethed, stepping closer again. "Call Ylva that. She is worth a thousand of the whores you prefer disgracing our sister so much." Aegon merely let a slight grin lift his mouth.

ASJSKSKSK

 "I find I do not give a shit what our grandsire thinks. Not in this at least."

THAT'S RIGHT BITCH

"I see her in my head. I see she thinks of you as often as you do of her." 

exposed fr

Didn’t do justice to her at all. 

The blood drained from his face, leaving him paler than soured milk. The letter said nothing about the child she carried inside her.

OH?

"If you truly loved her, you'd let her go. Forget about her. My sister is not a caged bird made to sing for others." Cregan said, refusing to bow. "The blood of the First Men runs through her veins."

IS ANYBODY GONNA ASK WHAT MY BBG THINKS? HM? HM??

my lady Snow

the fact that he still calls her 'my lady'

"As if I could ever forget your face. Seared into my bones as it is."

I AM NOT OKAY

MIRANDA

MISS MA'AM

MOMMY-IN-LAW

PLEASE

WATCH ME INJECT THIS INTO MY VEINS

"No." Aemond said hoarsely against her mouth. He pulled back, flushed and wild eyed. It only made him all the more prettier, his silver hair bright in the dimming daylight. "You're mine. This is mine."

Cregan seemed to be unable to look elsewhere, his brow furrowed as he glared at Aemond with dark eyes.

"You were smoke and shadow in my head. No matter what I did... what I thought..." His breath hitched as her hands edged it down his arms, flats of her hands exploratory almost as she reacquainted herself with every inch of him. "The mere thought of you lurking in the recesses, the deepest parts of my mind with your face, your touch..."

MIRANDA THIS IS MEAN NOW I'M OBSESSED WITH THEM

One heart. Two minds. One soul; cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.

this is so poetic 😭

"You are my heart. My husband." To his nose and his closed eye. "Beating a song in my bones and in my blood..." 

PLS

“And I did. You'll have all the books you’ll ever want. Books and tomes and maps...” He punctuated each word with a kiss. "Don't forget the horses, Aemond." 

PLEASE THIS BITCH IS ME I CAN'T

“Not mistress, mother. Wife.” he bit his lip. “What did you say?” Alicent said, startled into silence. “Wife.” he repeated slowly. “I married her in the godswood of Winterfell.” Alicent paled and shook her head. “What? Gods be good, Aemond, tis not funny-“

to the barren waste of the North?

SIR??????

Aemond spoke over her. "Come here, wife." 

okay but the fact that she is given a title by him probably means so much to her, i can't imagine the amount of trauma being called a 'bastard' all her life would do to her sense of self

It galled Alicent Hightower to admit Ylva Snow was a lovely thing, watching the girl bend and kiss Aemond on the cheek.

THAT'S RIGHT WIFEY

"Rhaenyra!" he shouted, voice echoing in the ancient halls of the ancestral Targaryen stronghold. "You won't believe what the little half Hightower mutt has done!"

oOp-

Chapter Three:

An unfriendly place full of the ghosts of those long dead that lingered like wraiths amidst the ears that listened behind every wall and the eyes that watched behind every door. 

 spilling his seed again and again and again.

was when she would slip from the keep and into the spot where the white as bone weirwood was, kneeling before it with her hands clasped together under the red as blood leaves.

poor angel she probably misses home so much

The sting is only lessened a fraction by the kindness of his sister Helaena

HELAENA MY LOVE

what goes on in his pretty head

as she pressed a kiss to the left side of his brother's face.

okay but that's their thing i love it

"To Storm's End," Otto echoed, repeating the words tempestuously, as if he was not speaking to his king, but to an unruly child. "We need allies and Lord Baratheon-" Aegon thumped his fist down, scowling.

OH WOW OH NO HERE WE GO BESTIES BUCKLE UP

Helaena savored the pain of the rough stone and hard glass digging into her back, feeling him against her thigh, already hard as he mouthed at the expanse of pale skin of her throat, his fingers fumbling behind her back as he undid the laces of her stays.

oh my sweet girl

In Naerys Targaryen's case, it falls on a balance that teeters dangerously between the two. 

👀

Remnants lingered in the way she still smelled fire and smoke and blood, still heard dragons bellowing, the clash and ringing of steel. 

my sweet girl i just want to give her a hug

"How dare you," she spit at him,

YOU TELL HIM BABE

"Do it again," he demanded, 

It was a hazy thing, an epitome full of light and grace

"How is it to ride a dragon, goodsister?"

this bitch--

“Go back to Winterfell, girl.” was all he said as he turned around and left her and Alicent in silence.

"Did you touch yourself when I was gone?"

"Who are you to dare to touch a prince?" 

OH SHE'S DONE MORE THAN TOUCHED HIM LADDY, WHERE DO YOU THINK THE BABY CAME FROM? A STORK?

The egg that nestled in Naerys's cradle began to crack, tiny claws of black pushing from the pieces,

YES YES YES

Chapter Four:

miranda told me in advance that i should be scared of this...

A raven flew lower and lower as it circled over the ancient hold of Dragonstone, 

OH WE'RE GOING FROM HERE? SLAY

MY HUSBAND AWAITS

"A triviality?" Rhaenyra repeated, eyes narrowing. "My inheritance, my throne is not a mere triviality. He is a fool and a craven and a traitor-" her mouth flattened into a thin, firm line as she spoke. 

:( we didn't see my husband but it's okay i'll just manifest him

"That I fear I will wake from this and be back in Winterfell with Cregan and Sara and Rickon. Before you were mine."

don't give otto ideas, he'll pretend you went delulu

No matter if loving a dragon left her nothing more than a burned husk. A shell of who she'd been and everything she held dear. 

THIS LINEEEEEE

"Seven hells-" he cursed, mouth twisting as his fingers yanked forcefully at the laces of her dress, grumbling when they wouldn't give. "How do you do this every day?" he growled, letting out a satisfied grunt when at last they loosened. 

PLS-

"My silver prince-"

your honour i love them

"Goodsister!" Aegon's voice was

hide

before Alicent twitched her hand in his direction.

IS WIFEY ABOUT TO COME THROUGH??

not like Rhaenyra who hides her Strong bastards

nvm

 "You'll dance, won't you, Your Grace?" 

please i love her so much she's so funny sometimes

(but this bitch like me fr this is the type of shit i pull)

"I think you have had too much wine, dear wife." He said instead.

i will cut you

 "Anger makes you beautiful,"

THEY'RE SO FUCKING CHAOTIC AND UNHINGED AJSJSKDK

emotional rollercoaster every chapter i swear

miranda you will be hearing from my lawyers

"Ylva... your chamber... there was-" 

WHAT???? ARE THEY- WAIT WHAT???

The world slowed, the feeling of the walls all but closing in on him as the night echoed with the enraged bellows of a dragon and her rider.

MIRANDA

MISS MA'AM

THAT WAS INCREDIBLE

IM STILL COMPREHENDING THIS

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH - MASTERLIST

(Bran Stark x Fem!Targaryen OC)

A/N - Not gonna lie yall, I’m more productive with this story on Wattpad 😭😭 I think I might stick with posting on there instead. The chapters I’ve posted here have been slightly changed there too. I’ll put the link of it below.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/367425499?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=lovebaela

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒊 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Rhaella is the daughter of Mad King Aerys’ younger brother. Before the rebellion of Robert Baratheon, he fled to the Summer Isles, where he fell in love with a woman. He married her and they both consummated their marriage. Rhaella doesn’t know much about her parents, and always struggled with having a true home. One fateful day, her cousin Viserys sent her away to the Starks. Little did he know, that was the start of her journey of self-discovery.

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 , 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 . 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bran is the fourth child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. All he ever wanted was to become a knight. He always thought one day he would join the kingsguard. That was until the day he found out he was betrothed to Rhaella. He didn’t think much of it, still able to be a warrior…until the day he became broken. All he wants is to find a purpose now in his life.

✮ ₊ Chapters ✧ ᵔ₊ 𓆪

1, 2, 3, 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own asoiaf, any pictures, or gifs that I use in the series🤍

Art by eleneyaart, fredrickruntu

Dividers by @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[lilap20]

House of the Dragon Fanfiction: Updated Masterlist

Fanfiction House of the Dragon

Story of Princess Nymeria Targaryen second daughter of King Viserys I and his wife Lady Aemma.

Prologue : The Princess

Chapter One : The Meeting of eyes

Chapter Two : The festivities of the Stranger

Chapter Three : Heaven is where we meet at the foot of the Heart Tree. Part 1

Chapter Four: Heaven is where we meet at the foot of the Heart Tree. Part 2

Chapter Five: The Dragon's Descent into Winterfell.

Chapter Six: The Wedding.

Chapter Seven: The letter from King's Landing Part.1

Chapter Eight: The letter from King's Landing Part.2

[faetreides]

Hi so this post kind of explains the situation but i just wanted to officially announce that i’m setting up comissions. Long story short, due to my health this would be my only way of getting money to support my family/have money for myself in general. I would very much so appreciate it if you would comission me or at least spread the word to someone who will. DMs & Asks are open for questions but all the info is down below! You in no way have to commission me or tip me if you don’t want to commission me but this is just something that i’ll continuously have going should you choose to.

+ RULES 🍰

ANY COMMISSION TYPE CAN BE NSFW OR SFW/DARK CONTENT(or YANDERE) OR NON DARK CONTENT, if it’s nsfw i’ll need info regarding what genetalia/kinks/pronouns/etc. that you’d be comfortable with. and if it’s dark content i need you to specify what you are and are not okay with so i don’t cause you any accidental harm. generally i’d need as much detail as possible for the matchup package comm type.

commissions take priority so if there’s something you really want to see from me, you’re more likely to get it quicker and more suited to your tastes this way. please understand that i’m getting my g.e.d and things like that so your commission will be done as soon as i possibly can.

writing commissions can be chracter x reader x charatcer, character x reader, my oc x reader, my oc x reader x my oc. (You can ask me to make ocs, for example “angel oc” “cowboy oc” “boxer oc” etc. but i do ask that you only give me the type of oc you want and not all the specifics bc then it wouldn’t really be my oc)

the reader can be afab, amab, or gn. i will do trans readers as well.

i currently am accepting comms for characters from: dune, tbosas, star wars, obx, jjk, dc comics, and asoiaf/hotd.

there will be 10 slots for every commission type

if you would like to commission me, send me the request and if i accept it, you’d have to send me the required payment before you receive the final product. do not say you’re going to commission me and then pull out after i’ve accepted and would be awaiting the payment, i’m forcing no to buy anything from me but if you’re kind enough to do so, please respect me and my time. make an informed decision about this and be aware of my prices. (they’re a little high because i desperately need the money, i’m sorry)

minors (it’s literally illegal) & anons are not allowed to commission anything involving nsfw. i have the right to say no to any commission and to use any ocs that i am commissioned to make outside of those said comms.

you may do what you want with your commission, let me post it or keep it to yourself or whatever. but do not under any circumstances use it for ai purposes, sell it/claim as your own, or claim any ocs you commission me to make as your own or use them.

+ CONTACT & PAYMENT 🍭

I’m available 24/7 through my DMs. I only accept payment to my cashapp $faetreides but if you don’t want to commission me, tipping is always open as well. Once again, i must receive the proper payment if your request is accepted or you will NOT receive your commission. Only send the payment AFTER i’ve accepted your request, in case it’s a situation where i would’ve denied it. Do not make this choice on a whim and be aware of how long it may take me and have a realistic understanding of your finances. If you can’t afford it or anything like that, please don’t feel pressured to. The last thing i want to do is take money from people who are also going through hard times.

+ COMMISSION TYPES 🍮

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Soon back from the grave: Snow Falls!!!

Dark Aemond x oc reader snippet sneak peak

Aemond gives his horse to the stablehand, pushing two silver pieces in his hands to ensure the animal is taken care of. He then turns to you, his wife and his precious fox. 

‘’Shall we help her ladyship from her horse, my Prince?’’ One of the guards asks. You are startled, you had forgotten all about them joining you for the meeting.

Aemond stares at you with so much love and happiness in your eyes that it almost pains you when his scowl returns, addressing the soldier. ‘’You won’t touch even the shit of her horse, let alone my wife. I shall fetch her myself.’’ He declares, moving closer to you. 

There is that darkness you’ve grew quite fond of. You hide your blush and smirk, quite enjoying it whenever your husband shows the little soldiers who is in charge. ‘’I am not a thing to be fetched.’’ You tell him, before he gently lifts you from your horse, helping you down on the stones. He ignores your comment, kissing your lips the moment you are both with your feet on the ground again.

‘’I never said you were a ‘’thing’’. I just said I would get what belongs to me.’’ He grins, leaning in for another soft kiss.

-------

A/n

This is a complicated story as it started reader insert but Willa has a name obviously, a ancestry, a story, a background, and even a face claim so I try to avoid blushing in new stories but for this one it made sense to have it as Willa kind of has a face claim and I've wrote it here before.

BUT ITS MY FAV LOOK AHAHA I LOVE SNOW FALLS SO MUCH IM HAPPY TO BE BACCCK🩷🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Willa to aemond in chapter 1

Willa now

[vhaenna]

Yall i need help, so i was on google and i searched jaehaerys targaryen i wanted to read viserys i grandfather's wiki, but them i saw a link that said Jaehaerys Targaryen son of viserys and i got confused, i only watched the show i did not read the books, to the people that read them did Viserys had a son with aemma?

I'm so confused help!

[eveenstar]

𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

❥𝙼𝚊𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 | 𝙰𝙾3 - 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚌'𝚜 |

❥𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝙴𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝙰𝙾3 - 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗/𝙾𝙲 |

↣The Red Keep is preparing to welcome House Thorke, an ancient Valyrian house of blood as pure as the Targaryens and the Velaryons. As war dawns near, the Greens find themselves an ally in the Thorke's through a marriage between Prince Aemond Targaryen and Lady Daelys Thorke, adding three more dragons to their team. But the rumours around the youngest daughter of Lord Thorke run rampant through the corridors of the Keep and down the streets of King's Landing. Whispers of dark magic and blood rituals being done within the House of the Cat.

How one step could change the entire dance.

❥𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝!𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗/𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 |

↣While finding a place to take shelter from the storm, you come across an abandoned (name) and the remainings of two stone statues. You can't help but feel drawn to the first statue, that of a man with an eyepatch and long hair.

And he also seems to be curious by you.

❥𝙼𝚊𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝙹𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠 | 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 |

❥𝙰𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚛 | 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙/𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 |

❥𝙼𝚊𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 | 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙/𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 |

❥𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜 (𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘)

(more to add)

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

[hs-is-loml]

Bound. (a.t)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Fem!Reader (minor oc descriptions)

Summary: you didn't realize when you stood beside aemond during the night when he lost his eye would solidify your stance in the war.

Warnings: death, murder, angst, fluff between aemond and reader, betrothals, incestual relationship uncle/niece, little family drama (UNEDITED)

a/n: i wanted to get this out before i watched episode ten later. which will determine whether or not i write a part two to this.

word count: 5.5k

all translations of high valyrian come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

masterlist - as i am yours (part two)

It was always a deep regret in your heart that you could do anything to save his eye during the fight. He never held any resentment towards you though as you stood by your place to his side. You could never fight against your siblings, and Aemond knew that. Though he continued to taunt them, you stood quietly next to him not meeting anyone’s eye. 

You could recall that night so vividly. The chaos of everything. The questioning of who was right and who was wrong. Trying to decide whether you made the right choice of standing next to your betrothed in his defense. Your family might hate you now, but you got a family out of it in more ways than one.

FLASHBACK

“Aemond, this is worrying to me,” you expressed your concern as you both made your way toward Vhagar to see if Aemond could claim her.

She was a free dragon as of the death of your Aunt/Stepmother Lady Laena Velaryon, and no one has yet to take claim of her more so bond with her. You knew that your half-sister would be furious at the revelation that Aemond was to be the next rider of Vhagar. In all honesty in your mind, it was her fault thinking no one would want to claim the most powerful/largest dragon in the realm. 

You knew that you were the creation of an affair between your mother Rhaenyra and your biological father Daemon. Everyone knew you were with your hair being as bright as snow and bold violet eyes with your fair complexion. Though you were legitimized by the King himself, so no one dared ever call you a bastard to your face. 

Ser Laenor was also your father who raised you and brought you up. You loved him as a father and knew how hard his sister’s death hurt him. You two would visit them on dragon back with Seasmoke and Silverwing allowing you to get to know your biological father and half-sisters. Daemon had a hard way to show that he cared for someone, but you were his jewel. 

He would teach you more complex High Valyrian and teach you about your ancestors. Always telling you that it was important for you to me in the knowledge of those before you when you were to take the throne. Which made Baela and Rhaena envious of the favoring of their father towards you. 

Though Daemon cared for you as his daughter when you visited him, he did not pay any mind to you outside of it. Always so hot and cold. Never allowing himself to get too attached to anyone. Making you more in favor of your stepfather Laenor. Who taught you how to swim on the shores of Driftmark, unbraided your hair before saying goodnight, taught you the basics of bonding with a dragon, and took you on rides with Seasmoke when you were too little to ride Silverwing. 

“There is nothing to worry about, and I would never let anything happen to you,” Aemond reassured you taking your hand as the two of you got closer to Vhagar.

“Aemond be careful, I will not lose my betrothed over a dragon claim,” you squeezed his hand before letting go allowing him to approach the large she-dragon.

“Dohaeras! Dohaeras, Vhagar! Lykiri! Lykiri!” Aemond shouted to the dragon as Vhagar growled in his presence. (Serve! Serve, Vhagar! Calm down!) “Lykiri.” 

You watched in anticipation, scared for Aemond’s life. To your relief, Vhagar seemed to be accepting Aemond as she allowed him to climb to her back. 

“Soves! Dohaeras, Vhagar! Soves!” he yelled out commands to the dragon. (Fly! Serve, Vhagar! Fly!)

As Vhagar and Aemond took flight, you waited for his return watching the beautiful dragon’s wings spread amongst the sky. It seemed like an eternity before you saw them rearing back to where you awaited. Vhagar landed with a loud grunt letting Aemond climb back down on her wing. 

“I knew you were always meant for amazing things,” you admitted to Aemond as continued to bond with Vhagar. He put his forehead to rest against the dragon’s cheek.

“Come here.”

“Aemond, you must be joking,” you nervously let out, staying in your place.

“Come here, love. She won’t hurt you, I promise,” Aemond said as he reached out his hand to you, beckoning you to come closer. 

“Rytsas, Vhagar,” you greeted the dragon, taking Aemond’s hand, and staying close to his side. (Hello, Vhagar) 

Aemond took your hand in his grasp and laid your palm against Vhagar’s cheek which radiated heat. Vhagar purred at the attention both you and Aemond were giving her. You enjoyed this moment shared between the three of you. You leaned your head against Aemond’s shoulder looking up at him as he relished in the fact he finally had his own dragon. 

“Maybe when we get back home we can take Vhagar and Silverwing on a ride together,” he suggested as you two made your way back inside the High Tide. 

“It’s him,” they gasped at the sight of Aemond and you.

“It’s me,” Aemond mocked.

“Vhagar is my mother's dragon.”

“Your mother's dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now,” Aemond stated in arrogance.  

“She was mine to claim.”

“Then you should've claimed her!” Aemond shouted in thinning patience. You stood behind him keeping your head down as your siblings continued to yell and argue with your betrothed. 

“Y/N, come here,” Jace commanded to you as he saw Aemond shield you from them.

“Jacaerys, you do not command her to do anything unless it is of her free will,” Aemond defended you as your siblings looked at you with disgust for siding with their “enemy.”

The chaos surrounding you came with the overwhelming feeling of guilt of not knowing who to stand by and defend. Causing you to be frozen in your place as they started to fight. You saw punches getting thrown around and how they all ganged up on Aemond.

“Baela, Jacaerys, stop it,” you shouted as you saw them go against Aemond. “Aemond, no!” you continued as you saw Lucerys’ nose bleed profusely from Aemond’s hit.

You were paying so much attention to them that you didn’t see Rhaena coming up to you ready to strike. You only realized when you felt the slap against your cheek.

“How dare you stand next to him instead of your family,” she yelled at you in disappointment. “Father will be so disappointed in you,” she said as if it seemed like you cared so much about your parents’ approval.

Everything seemed to slow down as you heard Aemond yell in pain, you turned in a hurry to try and attend to Aemond. That’s when you saw Lucerys holding a blade and you felt yourself sink down to your knees beside Aemond taking his head on your lap.

“What have you done?!” you shouted at them. “A disgrace upon all of you,” you cursed them cradling Aemond and trying to do your best to comfort him.

Aemond continued to groan in pain as you ripped a portion of your cloak to help stop the bleeding in his eye. The others continued to scream at you and Aemond which you paid no mind to.

“CEASE THIS AT ONCE!” Ser Harrold came rushing in separating your siblings from you and Aemond. 

“GET AWAY!” you screamed as you noticed them quieting down but unmoving. 

“My Prince, my Prince. Let me see,” Ser Harrold approached you two. “Gods be good.”

You stayed by Aemond’s side as the maesters attended to his wounded eye. You held his hand as they stitched it together, feeling him squeeze your hand when the pain got too much for him. You stayed quiet as both families argued against each other. You noticed the look your mother gave you when she saw that you had not taken the side of your siblings. 

Daemon stayed to the side watching the situation play out. Your grandfather continued to demand answers as he shouted amongst the room. 

“I will have the truth of what happened. My sweet granddaughter, tell your grandsire how did this happen?” the King turned to you asking for an explanation of the situation. 

“Due to the death of my Aunt Lady Laena, Vhagar was left unattended and unclaimed by a rider since. Aemond and I went down to see her and to see if Aemond could bond with her which he did. As we made our way back inside the castle, we were stopped by my siblings and cousins, and they argued with Aemond about Vhagar. In my honest opinion, no one truly claims a dragon they just bond with them as a rider, so making Rhaena's claim of Aemond stealing Vhagar from her false as she should not have waited so long to bond with Vhagar,” you started to retell the story to the King who listened closely to your words. “I did not want to fight against my betrothed or my siblings and cousins but I stayed alongside Aemond. The fight broke out between all of them when Baela threw the first punch against Aemond. I did not participate in the fight until Rhaena struck a slap against me while throwing insults towards my loyalty. I was too late to see the blade held by Lucerys and to save Aemond from the attack. It was an unfair fight as it was majorly the four of them against Aemond,” you told your grandfather letting a tear fall on the reddened cheek of yours as you look at Aemond and raised your hand to caress Aemond’s nonaffected cheek. 

Your mother, Rhaenrya looked at you with repulse as you finished retelling the incident. She never realized the actual bond between you and Aemond as she only ever thought of it as you acting for your duty to the throne. 

“Now how is it you are the only one to ever speak the truth? Thank you, granddaughter,” Viserys said as he laid a hand on your shoulder as he passed by you.

“Oh my sweet child,” Alicent came to you and brought you into her arms in a tight squeeze. “Thank you for being with Aemond,” she whispered into your ear as she let go to attend to Aemond more.

A couple of days had passed and you did not leave Aemond’s side for most of it. You noticed himself trying to distance himself from you and knowing it stemmed from the scar that was now embedded upon his face. He was scared of you feeling disgusted by his new appearance. You were quick to reassure him that you still kept the same feelings for him regardless of how he looked. 

You were with Queen Alicent and Aemond in his chambers when the news was broken to you by Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys that your stepfather was found dead. You were holding a vase ready to set it down beside Aemond’s bedside table. Upon hearing the news you froze and the vase slipped out of your hands shattering on the ground where you fell to your knees. You felt small shards of glass against your skin, but it couldn’t compare to the pain you felt in your heart for the loss. 

“Dear child, come here,” Rhaenys said with tears in her eyes as she approached you and signaled you to stand up from the broken glass. You felt stuck. Once again. 

“Y/n?” Aemond questioned from his bed. He got out of the covers and carefully stepped around the glass and brought you to sit on the bed. You were silent as tears gushed from your eyes. 

“How?” you managed to say through your growing sobs. Rhaenys and Corlys came to your side as Alicent and Aemond nodded to them as they walked out of the room out of respect. 

“His body was found burned in the fireplace of the hall,” Corlys told you taking the space to your left and Rhaenys took the spot on your right. You were staying down on your bloodied dress and trembling hands. 

“I never got to tell him how much I loved him,” you cried which had Rhaenys pulling you to her chest in a hug as you gripped her sides letting your anguish out. Corlys wrapped his arm around Rhaenys moving you to let yourself lean against the both of them.  

“He knew. He always loved you and was so proud of how you have grown. Always talking about your accomplishments and the adventures you both took visiting around the realms,” Rhaenys admitted to you softly relishing in the fond memories of her son.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to both of them. 

“For what, granddaughter?” Lord Corlys asked letting his hand run through your hair.

“We all know that I am not my father’s actual daughter, but do know the love and respect I held for him in my heart as he raised me as his own,” you told them in honesty but afraid to look meet their eyes you kept your head down.

“Y/n, you are his daughter through and through. He cherished you more than anything in the world and we will always accept you as our own,” Rhaenys pulled your head up to meet her gaze and more tears filled your eyes at the love and acceptance given to you at this moment. 

“You hold the memories of him. You are his legacy,” Corlys confirmed to you. 

END OF FLASHBACK

“Darling, your mother, and her family are coming back here to petition for the claim of Driftmark in days' time,” Alicent snapped you out of your thoughts which caused you to snap your attention to her setting your cup of tea down on the table. 

“Is there a reason I was not made aware sooner?” you asked her with anxiousness crawling inside you.

“I saw no reason to worry you and the raven only arrived last evening,” she replied leaning forward to place her hand on top of yours. “It will be okay.” 

“I have not spoken to them since that day all those years ago,” you admitted aloud.

After the night when you stood by Aemond’s side to explain to your grandfather about the incident, your mother and your entire family turned their back on you. Which only allowed you to keep in contact with your grandparents Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys whether it was you traveling back to High Tide with Silverwing, Aemond, and Vhagar or them coming to the Red Keep to see one another. 

You did not even attend the wedding between your mother and your biological father still upset about the ending of your step-father. You learned to figure out that it was in the hands of your mother and her newlywed husband. You grew to resent them as they took the person who raised you, loved you for who you truly were, and never wanted to change you. 

You stayed at Driftmark until you got sick of the ocean air, and left to return back to the capital. You were welcomed with open arms by everyone but your own family that took their stay in Dragonstone. Your time in Red Keep allowed you to be with Aemond and spent time with your grandfather until he got bedridden a couple moons ago. 

“May I be excused, my Queen?” you asked.

“Of course,” she smiled at you, removing her hand and allowing you to stand and exit her chambers. 

You walked in the halls of the Keep stuck in your own thoughts and worries about what is to come soon. Knowing that it could never be calm with your families. You found yourself near your shared chambers with Aemond and knocked with the hope he was in the room.  Unless he was on the training grounds with Ser Cole.

“Yes?” you heard from inside the room.

“It is only me,” you said loud enough for him to hear you as well. 

“Well do come in,” it was quiet but loud enough for you to open the door enough to let you slip in and shut it behind you. “Has something happened?”

Aemond notices the look on your face and knows that you are drowning in some sorrows. He gets up from his chair near the fireplace to go to you and takes your hands to lead you to the bed to sit. Both of you sit along the side of the bed, but you are staring at your intertwined hands while he stares at you. He removes one of his hands from your and raises it to your chin to lift your head up towards him. Meeting eye to eye he nods to encourage you to tell him your thoughts.

“My mother and her family are coming back to the Keep,” you muttered looking around the room trying to not meet his eye. 

“Is she to bring all of them?” he scoffed at the thought of them being here.

“Yes, I assume so. She still has Jace and Luke, but I think she has another two in addition with Daemon and not to forget about Baela and Rhaena,” you answered as you thought about the family they had created without you.

“Well, we must prepare ourselves for the upcoming days,” he suggested as he let his fingers play with the sapphire betrothal ring the was worn on your left hand.

“I do not want them here.”

“No one does, My love.”

“They cannot come barging into our lives again just because they got bored of theirs,” you whine in frustration. 

“They are pesky little things,” he spat which made you giggle at the tone of his voice. In which he grinned at the sound of your laughs. 

You stood beside Aemond next to Aegon as the petition of Vaemond Velaryon was to be heard for who was to be the next Lord of the Tides. You felt the glares from your siblings as you stood alongside the Greens. With your emerald green dress with black lacing and your body adorned in jewels, they could not stand the sight of you standing tall with them. 

Though they had no right to any opinions they create of you, that did not stop them from frowning at the conjoined hands of you and the prince to your left. It was a constant reminder for them of the night everything changed. As you did not take their side after Lucerys wrongly slashed Aemond’s face. 

“I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins,” Vaemond stated to Otto Hightower who sat upon the King’s throne. As you have gotten along with the rest of the family, the Hand of the King was one person you would always dislike.

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” Rhaenrya said which made you scoff loudly at the statement. “If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition,” she added on.

“You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Queen Alicent said from her place near you towards your mother.

“Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard,” you continued for the Queen. Rhaenrya snaps her attention to you with sorrow-filled eyes in hearing your voice for the first time in years. Her eyes travel down to the grasp you held onto Aemond’s hand and arm. 

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it,” Vaemond scowled at Rhaenrya. “I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor to be the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very…” your mother started.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,” as your grandfather King Viserys arrives near the doors. 

“I will sit on the throne today,” he breathes heavily. The King limps his way toward the throne before stopping to take in a heaving breath. “I said I’m fine.” 

It broke your heart to see the man you called grandfather slowly wither away to bones. The continuation of his walk does not go any further as he drops his crown as leans over his cane. You removed yourself from Aemond’s side and made your way to your beloved grandfather. 

“Grandfather, here,” you pick up the crown from the floor and offer your arm out to him to try and lead him to the throne easier. 

“Thank you, my child,” as he takes a seat on the throne. 

“My King,” you bowed your head to him as you placed the crown back on his head. 

Making your way down the steps seeing everyone’s shocked faces at the King getting out of his bed rest and his granddaughter for helping him. You made your way back over to the Greens with Alicent stopping you with her arm before you were able to reach Aemond.

“Thank you,” she smiled at you softly.

“I must... admit... my confusion,” the King starts off with coughs. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, Your Grace. It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark would be passed through Ser Laenor’s daughter, Y/n, but in the circumstance that she is the next heir of the Iron Throne after her mother it would be passed to Ser Laenor’s trueborn son… Jacaerys Velaryon,” Princess Rhaenys told to King as she glanced at you slightly giving you a tight-lipped smile. “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

“Well, the matter is settled. Again,” Viserys said. “I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides. As well as the next change of succession.”

The crowd gasps at the statement of the king. Alicent looks to her father in gleaming hope. Aemond and you look at each other afraid for the words that might be said next as if Aegon were to be crowned heir. Rhaenyra and Daemon look at each other in worry.

“I hereby state a decree whereupon my death the Iron Throne and Crown are passed onto my son Prince Aemond Targaryen and my granddaughter, his betrothed Princess Y/N Targaryen,” Viserys stated to the crowd. “For they are the next heirs to the Iron Throne,” as he looked at you and his son with a smile.

There is an uproar with the crown and attending council members in the change of succession. Cheers were heard all around the room except for your mother and family. Alicent turns to you and Aemond with a bright smile on her face. She takes your face in her hands and tilts your head down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“You will make an amazing queen, Sweetling,” she told you as she placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a tight squeeze. “You, my son will be a brilliant king,” shifting her attention to Aemond. 

“Oh thank the seven hells, it was not me,” you hear Aegon from beside you with a grin on his face which you poked at his side with a small giggle.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?!” your mother shouts from her place to the King.

“It is my wish you do not receive the crown, daughter,” the King said bluntly. 

“You break the law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir then now your second son and granddaughter,” Vaemond spat at the King. “Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“Allow it?” Viserys scoffed at the claim. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

“That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Aemond and Y/N are of my kin and as well as Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark,” your grandfather defended. 

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this,” Vaemond shouted. “Her children are…”

“Say it,” Daemon said from beside Rhaenyra as Aemond pulled you behind him as he glared at Vaemond. 

“BASTARDS! And she IS A WHORE. Not to mention the ward you had taken under your house,” Vaemond yelled loudly in the room allowing every person to hear his words.

“I will have your tongue for that,” Viserys countered.

“WHO ARE YOU TO SPEAK AGAINST MY BETROTHED?” Aemond shouted in anger leaving your side. 

“Maybe she will end up like her moth-” as Aemond took ahold of Vaemond’s neck dragging him out to the courtyard. 

Everyone followed in suit with you running out after Aemond in front of everyone. Even the king who was moved to a chair carried by guards was in attendance to see what his son will do. Alicent grabbed ahold of your hand preventing you from getting too close. Rhaenyra looked at Alicent in envy at the relationship between you and the Queen.

“VHAGAR!” Aemond yelled out to the sky awaiting his dragon. “I shall feed you to my dragon for your vile insults towards the heir.”

“You are not even the king yet,” Vaemond spat blood on Aemond’s boots. 

“Ipradagon zirȳla, Vhagar!” Aemond commanded which had the large she-dragon pop her head into the courtyard and snatch Vaemond up in one piece. (Eat him, Vhagar)

“Well done, my son,” Viserys said from his chair proud at his son’s defense of his beloved granddaughter. 

“ANYONE ELSE THAT MISSPEAKS A WORD AGAINST PRINCESS Y/N WILL BE BURNED ALIVE BY VHAGAR!” Aemond shouts to the crowd. 

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” Viserys started. “My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. As well as our new crowned heirs my sweet granddaughter Y/N and my son Aemond. A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed.”

“Thank you, father,” Aemond thanked Viserys while taking your hand from under the table. 

“It seems that we will be planning your wedding sooner than we thought, Darling,” Alicent said from her seat next to the King. You were seated next to Aemond alongside Helaena. 

“Of course!” you beamed.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world yet grown so distant from each other in the years past,” Viserys told around the table as he took off the golden mask from his face. “My own face is no longer a handsome one if indeed it ever was. But tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king but your father. Your brother. Your husband and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems to walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

“To you grandfather, King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name,” you said standing up from your seat and raising a glass.

“To King Viserys!” 

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude and my apology,” Rhaenyra toasts to Alicent.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you and to your house. For our children will make fine King and Queen,” Alicent smiled warmly to you and Aemond before turning back to Rhaenyra for the toast. 

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies as Prince Aemond marries my dear sister. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles,” Jace remarked after he had slammed his fists onto the table from what Aegon muttered to him and Baela. 

“I would like to say a few words. I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you except sometimes when he's drunk,” Helaena rose from the seat next to you. “Unless of course they are anything like how Aemond is to Y/n who worships the ground she walks on,” she finished with an airy laugh as you gaped at her wording with wide eyes.

“In speaks of her, this one goes to my daughter, who will ascend the crown and throne as well as her betrothed my nephew. For you shall have a long life and take the throne that you have taken from your mother,” Daemon mocked as he stood from his seat raising a glass to you. 

“You are no father of mine. And I did not take anything from anyone. Aemond and I will allow the kingdoms to grow and prosper instead of you and Rhaenyra taking it for your own selfish reasons and burning it to the ground,” you announced as you slammed your hands on the table.

“Brother, it was upon my wish it was given to them,” Viserys told his younger brother. 

“You are a disgrace to me,” Rhaenyra shouted at you. 

“You murdered my father. It is you who is a disgrace to the Targaryen name!” you argued back with rising anger at the thought of the two people who planned your father’s murder to be standing in the same room as you. 

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to say something but it closed with silence filling the room as tension surrounded the air. Viserys coughs loudly before groaning at the pain in his head making Alicent call the guards to take him back to his chambers. Aemond guides you to sit back down in your seat. Otto smirks at the obvious split between you and your so-called family. Aegon smirks at the entire situation. Daemon frowns at the result of this dinner. 

“I believe it is best if we end dinner now,” Alicent spoke out.

“Are you okay, My love?” you heard from behind you as you took out the pins holding up your hair. 

“Of course,” you replied. 

Aemond remove your hand from your hair and replaced them with his own as he started to carefully unbraid your hair. Though it was a normal occurrence that Aemond undid your hair, it never seemed to stop the warm feeling you would get when he did. 

“It is you who deserves to sit on the throne the most.”

“We will share it.”

“My love, it belongs to you, a true Targaryen.”

“Please do not mention my heritage as of now,” you groaned at the mention which made Aemond laugh at the thought of the dinner that just happened.

“In days' time we will be married,” Aemond said as he took your hand to motion you to stand.

“We shall be bound till our last breath,” rising from your seat to stand in front of him.

“I would never want it any other way,” pressing his lips against yours.

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 2: Winter is Coming

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Pairing: °❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･

CW: fem!oc, mostly fluff, and mentions of murder.꙳·❅°*˖

Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

(a/n) hey guys, I finally finished the masterlist so please check it out! I also recently made a ao3 account and I’ll start posting this series on there as well so stay tuned 🤍

Dividers by @sylasthegrim

Once the Stark boys came back, Bran said he wanted to show Rhaella something. He took her to the kitchens to show her. To her surprise, there were puppies! “Oh my gosh!” She gushed. “Bran, they are adorable!” He picked one up saying, “This one is mine! I haven’t decided on a name yet. They’re direwolf pups! There’s enough for all of the Stark children, even Jon!”

He handed the little pup to Rhaella. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you one. Maybe, we can share mine!”

The pup licked her cheek. “I’d like that!” She giggled. She turned to Arya. “Did you name yours?”

“Sure did!” She said. “Her name is Nymeria!”

Sansa scoffed. “The name of mine will be Lady. She’s going to be well behaved and good like me.”

Arya rolled her eyes.

Robb lifted up his pup, examining it. “I think I’ll name mine Greywind.”

“That’s so cool,” Bran said, jealous.

Rickon played with his pup. “I’m going to name mine…Shaggydog!” Everyone thought that was an odd name, but didn’t say anything, fearing that they would hurt the boy’s feelings.

The preparations continued for the King’s arrival. During Rhaella’s free time, she liked exploring Winterfell and interacting with the people. Although it took a while for the people to warm up to her, she was eventually called Winterfell’s delight. She was quite similar to Bran. A loving and outgoing child.

In the courtyard, Bran was receiving history lessons from Maester Luwin. Rhaella and Arya were waiting on him to finish, doing each other’s hair. Rhaella liked teaching Arya how to braid. She looked over at Bran, who was already glancing over at her. They both waved at each other until Maester Luwin wacked Bran on the head. “You need to focus,” the Maester said. The girls laughed.

“I think he’s really starting to like you.” Arya said.

“Really?” Rhaella asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s always staring at you. And don’t tell him I told you this, but after the first dinner you had with us, he told me you were very pretty.”

That made Rhaella blush. Does he really like me? Arya could just be teasing. We both agreed to just be friends. I wonder if Robb thinks I’m cute? If only I were older I would’ve been married to him instead.

After Bran was done, he decided to go climbing the castle walls. Rhaella didn’t feel like going with him, so she stayed by Lady Catelyn’s side. Bran’s direwolf pup also followed her around. He was growing at a rapid speed. Lady Stark was quite stressed making sure everything was perfect. Especially since the Lannisters were coming.

“Brandon!” Lady Stark yelled, as they walked outside to the courtyard.

“I see the king!” He shouted. “He’s got thousands of people!”

“Get down here right now!”

Once he gracefully made his way down his mother said, “how many times must I tell you, no more climbing! Promise me!”

Bran looked down at his feet and then answered, “I promise mother.”

“I noticed something, you always look at your feet before you lie…”

Bran chuckled, not denying it.

“Go let Ned know the king is close.”

Bran took Rhaella’s hand and they took off with their direwolf chasing behind them.

The stark family stood in a line as everyone else stood behind them. Jon was to the left of me while Theon Greyjoy was to my right. The gates opened for the King to trot in with his horse. Following him was his king’s guard and a boy on horseback. That must be his son, the prince. The blonde haired boy smiled at Sansa, and she smiled back at him. One knight hopped off of his horse, and took off his helmet. He had to have been the most beautiful man Rhaella’s ever seen. He had long golden blonde hair with emerald green eyes. “Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s twin brother,” Arya said, before Sansa hushed her.

“I heard the prince was a royal prick,” Theon whispered. He, at a young age, was sent to Winterfell by his own father, Balon Greyjoy. He made the terrible mistake of crowning himself king of the iron islands and starting a war. After their loss, Theon was sent away to Winterfell to be Lord Stark’s ward. Theon always viewed himself as a prisoner.

Then, came in the carriage with the Queen inside. She exited out of the carriage, looking slightly annoyed.

“Where’s the imp?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Please, just shut up!” Sansa asked.

We all bowed before the king and Queen as they made their way to Lord Stark. The King said hello to every member of the family. He made eye contact with Rhaella. She stiffened, not knowing what to do. “My king,” she said, curtsying. He gave a simple nod, and went about his way into the crypts with Lord Stark.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jon said, messing with her hair. She let out a relieved sigh, “no, thank goodness.”

Lady Stark had Rhaella, Arya, and Sansa get ready for the feast together.

“The prince is so handsome…” Sansa said, blushing. “I can’t believe the king wants me to marry him! Can we marry now or do we have to wait?”

Her mother stopped brushing her hair, “gods Sansa, your father hasn’t even made a decision yet!”

She turned to her, “please tell him to say yes! It’s all I could ever want!”

Lady Stark nodded, “we’ll see.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “not everything is about boys.”

Rhaella finally finished making her dress. The dress was a delicate light blue with a beautiful dragon embroidered on the neckline.

“That looks amazing!” Arya said.

“Thanks, learned from the best,” Rhaella replied smiling at Sansa.

“I suck at making my dresses…” Arya said.

“You still look very beautiful,” Lady Stark said. “You all do.”

Rhaella made her way to the Great Hall for the feast. She had to sit with Jon and the stable boys. “I like the dress,” Jon said. “Made it yourself?”

Rhaella nodded with a smile. Jon’s wolf, Ghost, laid his head on Rhaella’s lap.

“I guess Ghost likes it too,” Jon laughed.

“Do you boy?” She asked the white direwolf as it wagged its tail. Ghost was the runt of the litter and albino with red eyes. Jon named him ghost because he barely makes a sound.

Everyone watched as the Stark family entered the great hall one by one after the King and Queen. A few of them walked in with the King’s children. Robb with Princess Marcella, Sansa with Prince Joffrey, and Arya with Prince Tommen. The feast finally began.

Rhaella noticed Queen Cersei looking at her. Lady Catelyn gave a little nod, hinting her to come over. Rhaella took a deep breath and made her way over. Once she was before them, she curtsied. “My Queen, my Lady,” Rhaella said.

“Why aren’t you a precious thing?” The Queen asked. “Rhaella, isn’t it? Surely, a beautiful thing like you shouldn’t be hiding in the North, where it’s cold.”

“T-Thank you, my Queen! You look very beautiful yourself.” Rhaella smiled. The Queen had long gorgeous golden blonde hair and emerald green eyes. She truly was a sight to see.

“And your smile, like the sun entered the room and exploded,” the Queen added. “You’re free to go, and would you be a dear and tell Sansa to come over?”

Rhaella didn’t know how to feel about the last compliment, but curtsied again before walking away. Sansa was sitting with her friend Jeyne Poole, giggling and whispering. “Sansa,” Rhaella said. “The Queen wants to speak with you!” Sansa’s eyes lit up with joy, “Really, she wants me?” She quickly got up from her seat and walked over to them. Rhaella sat back down with Jon. “What did she want?” He asked, lifting his eyebrow. “Nothing really,” Rhaella replied. “Nothing bad, thank goodness.”

As everyone ate their food, Rhaella looked up at Arya. She had a mischievous look on her face. What will she do? She scooped a piece of pigeon pie, and aimed it at Sansa. She flicked the pie at her, hitting her cheek.

“Arya!” She shrieked. “She always does this!”

Robb picked Arya up and took her to her bed camber as the whole room laughed.

The musicians started to play their music, inviting everyone to the dance floor. I’d like to dance a little, but who would ask me?

୭ ₊ Bran ˚.

Bran watched as men brought their lady partners to the floor to dance. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “You should ask Rhaella to dance,” Robb said. “I think it would make her very happy.”

“She is your betrothed after all,” Theon added, teasing Bran.

Bran’s cheeks went red, “s-stop teasing me! What if she says no?”

“Believe me, she wouldn’t,” Robb said. “Besides, you should never be afraid of rejection.”

Easy for you to say, all the girls love you, even her…

Bran nodded and got up from his seat. He walked over to Rhaella, offering his hand, “Gaomagon jaelā naejot lilagon lēda nyke?”

She smiled and nodded, “Kessa!”

They both made their way to the dance floor, and began to mimic the moves of the pairs. “The dancing lessons really paid off,” she said. Bran agreed, “yeah! We’re doing good!”

The two of them continued to dance. “Bran, I think everyone is watching us!” She whispered. He glanced around the room. She was right, everybody was watching, even the king. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on me,” he told her. Everybody began to cheer for them, including the other Starks.

“That’s my brother!” Robb yelled.

That’s so embarrassing…

Rhaella laughed, making Bran blush.

୭ ₊ Rhaella ˚.

Once the song was over, Rhaella and Bran went back to their seats. Where’s Jon? She hopped off her seat and searched for him. She walked outside to find him training with his sword. “There you are,” Rhaella said. “You missed me and Bran dancing!”

“Don’t worry, I saw you two before I left outside. You both did great.” He said.

“I wish you could have danced with us.” She admitted.

They both heard another song playing from inside. Jon placed down his sword, and offered his hand, “well then, my lady, may I have this dance,” he asked, in a silly voice. Rhaella laughed and accepted. They both danced until the song was over. Rhaella and Bran went to Arya’s bed chamber to read another Targaryen story before going to bed. Arya set up a tent with her blanket so they could lay on their bellies on the floor. “We didn’t finish the dance of the dragons!” Arya said. “We left off on the part where Prince Jacerys went to Winterfell.”

Rhaella began to read from the book, “well it says here that he met Lord Cregan Stark, who also lost his younger brother. Jacerys reminded him so much of his sibling that they formed a brotherhood and they made the—”

“The pact of Ice and Fire.” They heard a voice say. All of a sudden, the blanket was yanked from above making the children scream. “It’s just me,” Lord Stark said. “All of you should be sleeping you know.”

“After this part of the story.” Bran said. “Please?”

Their father chuckled, “alright then, the pact was made between them to show the North’s support for the blacks during the dance. The Prince said once he’d have a daughter, she would marry Cregan’s son.”

“Did it happen?” Rhaella asked.

“No, the Prince died shortly after during a battle.” He answered.

Arya frowned, “so the pact was never fulfilled?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said messing with her hair. “That’s what war does, nothing but destruction and death. I despise it.”

“Imagine what it was like to have a war with that many dragons,” Bran said. “Maybe I don’t want to imagine it.”

Lord Stark agreed, “the poor dragons were the key ‘weapons’ in that war, nearly wiping all of them out.”

“And now they’re all gone.” Rhaella said.

“Perhaps they are,” he said. “Now, time for bed all of you.” Bran and Rhaella left the room and went to their own.

The next day, the girls had embroidery lessons with Princess Marcella. Nearly the whole time Sansa was giggling and whispering to her friends Jayne and Beth.

“What’s so funny?” Arya asked. “Tell me what y’all are giggling about!”

“The prince,” Sansa blushed. “He was very handsome at the feast. He even stared me.”

“I’m sure he also saw you get pigeon pied to the face,” Arya snickered. “Besides, Jon said he’s a spoiled brat.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Jon is just jealous that he is a bastard and not a prince!”

Arya and Rhaella gasped.

“Sansa, that’s so mean!” Rhaella said.

“It’s the truth,” Sansa said. “And I will be queen someday.”

Arya grabbed Rhaella’s hand, “let’s go see what Bran is up to!”

They made their way into the courtyard. They found the Stark and Baratheon boys together. Bran and Tommen were heavily padded with wooden swords.

They called for him and waved. “Good luck brother!” Arya yelled.

As the two boys were fighting, everyone could sense the tension between Robb and Prince Joffrey. They were smack talking each other the whole time. Their fight would certainly be interesting.

“I wish we could do that,” Arya sighed. “It would be fun!”

Rhaella agreed, “yeah, but alas, we are girls. Some books I’ve read said that outside of Westeros there are places where women are allowed to do anything men can.”

“I’d like to go there sometime.” She said.

“Same here.”

Tommen fell to the ground as Bran held his wooden sword at him. Wow, Bran would have made a great knight of the kingsguard, Rhaella said to herself. Then I showed up and ruined everything…

When it became dawn, the King and Lord Stark were leaving for a hunt with Robb and Theon following them. Bran and Rhaella watched as they trotted away on horseback. Lord Stark looked at them to wave goodbye. They smiled back and watched as the party left.

“My father will be hand of the king,” Bran said. “He’s leaving to King’s Landing tomorrow. He’s going to take us with him. Mother didn’t want me to go, but father thought that I could calm down the feud between Joffrey and Robb.”

“Did he mention me?” Rhaella asked. As scared as she was of the king, the Starks truly had become a family to her. She didn’t want to lose them.

“I asked father, they are still making a decision.” He said. “I’m sure the king will say yes. You are my betrothed after all.”

Bored, Bran and Rhaella explored Winterfell’s castle. They visited the stables where Hodor, a large and tall man, attended to Bran’s pony. Hodor was truly a mystery. All he ever said was ‘Hodor.’ No one knows why.

“I’ll have to leave him behind,” Bran said as he looked at the pony. Rhaella turned to Bran and noticed water in his eyes. She held his hand, whispering, “hey, it’s going to be okay.”

Bran sniffed, “sorry, I shouldn’t be crying. Boys don’t cry.”

“Everyone cries, Bran,” she reminded him. “There’s no shame in that.” She knew he wouldn’t believe her, but it wouldn’t hurt to try comforting a friend.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave,” he admitted. “This is my home. My real home.”

There was that word again, ‘home.’

Where’s my home?

The stable boys noticed the Stark boy crying and began to snicker. “What a baby!” One of them laughed. “Shut up!” Rhaella shouted. “That ‘baby’ is more important than any of you will ever be!” She grabbed Bran’s hand and they both took off.

The two children grew bored again, thinking of what to do next.

Bran gave her a mischievous smirk, “you wanna go climbing?”

“Bran, your mother said no!” She reminded him. “And I don’t feel like climbing right now…I’ll just watch.”

His direwolf pup began to chew on his shoe. “Come on you!” He told the pup. They found an abandoned tower in the distance. Bran pointed at it, “I’m going to climb that one!” Once they got there, Bran started climbing. Never once had he ever fell from climbing. Never.

Once Bran made it to the window, he looked confused. Before Rhaella could ask if something was wrong, she saw Bran get dragged in by a hand. Without thinking, she began to climb herself up the tower. She was halfway there until Bran was pushed from the window. She swiftly grabbed his hand, “hang on.” She held on as much as she could. “We’re going to fall!” He shouted. Her fingers began to slip from the wall. “We’re going to be okay—” she started to say until her fingers completely slipped off the wall. They both held onto each other as their bodies hit the ground. Everything went black.

“Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!”

Confused, Rhaella woke up in a crowd of people. They were all shouting at someone. She turned to where they were all facing and gasped. It was Sansa, the Queen, and Joffrey with his kingsguard. Except, Joffrey wore the crown of the king. Is this Kingslanding? “No!” Sansa yelled. “Please don’t do this!” Lord Stark was being executed! Rhaella wanted to shout, but she couldn’t. No! The knight drew out his sword, and lifted it up. Rhaella turned away, covering her eyes, before seeing his head get sliced off. What is going on?

“Dany, please!” A voice begged in fear.

Viserys?

She removed her hands to investigate, only to be in a completely different spot. She was inside a tent with many men and women. She knew it wasn’t Westeros due to the majority of people having darker skin with unfamiliar accents. There Viserys was, on his knees as two other men restrained him from moving. “A crown of a king,” The tall man said. He held a pot of melted gold over Viserys’ head and poured it over him. He screamed in agony until he could no longer say anything. His head slammed to the ground. He was dead!

“He was no dragon.”

Rhaella turned back to see Dany. She showed no emotion whatsoever after what just happened.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she said, staring at his lifeless body.

There was a loud screech from the sky, startling Rhaella. Once she looked up, she couldn’t believe what was there before her. It was a dragon! The scales of the creature was a beautiful deep shade of blue, with a lighter shade going down its neck and under its wings. The dragon opened its mouth, letting out blue flames at her.

Rhaella let out a small groan. Her vision, at first, was blurry. All she could hear was a gasp.

“Gods be good!” A familiar voice exclaimed.

“My…lady?” Rhaella asked.

“Yes, sweet girl. It’s me.” She said.

Rhaella tried to stand, but she was weak.

“No, you need your rest.” She said. Rhaella could tell Lady Stark was relieved, but not completely. Bran was still sleeping in a bed next to hers.

“How long has it been?” Rhaella asked.

“A couple of days.” She answered. “You were in a coma.”

Rhaella’s stomach let out a vicious growl. She didn’t realize how hungry she was.

“You poor thing, all we could give the both you was honey and water while you were sleeping,” Lady Stark explained. “I’ll have someone bring food from the kitchen.”

“I tried to not let go,” Rhaella explained. “I was holding onto his hand while gripping the wall with my other hand.”

“Do you remember anything else before that?” She asked.

“Well, all I remember was him falling from the tower. He could have been pushed, but I didn’t see…”

That made Lady Stark want to ask more questions, but Rhaella didn’t have a lot of answers. They all left. Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya, and Jon. Rhaella didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. That made her sad. She wanted to cry, but refused to let any tears fall.

“Whoever did this to you will pay,” Lady Stark said coldly. “I promise you that.”

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[vivalarevolution]

𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓣𝓲𝓮𝓼

Aemond Targaryen x Bastard-Targaryen Oc    

Summary: Aemond had never felt the emotion that she meade him feel, and he had never felt such bitterness when she left him. But when he was able to see her again years later, he couldn't let her run away again. Never again.

A/N: I hope you all gonna like it. It is quite a long fic. Also it contains smut, so please be aware of that part and don't read it if you're minor.

English is not my native language, so I am sorry for any mistakes.

Part 2

A child's life should never be easy. But how much Daenaera wanted it to be otherwise.

Being not only an half-orphan but a bastard was exhausting enough. The streets of King's Landing were not safe for girls like her, they were not safe for any girl.

Daenaera hasn't lived her whole life that way, no.

She used to have a house, small but it was still hers. She lived with her mother and three siblings and her stepfather, who, learning about her true origin, nearly killed her, throwing her onto the doorstep so that at the age of eight she could cope as an adult.

Disguised as a boy, she tried to survive, always somehow managed, until she fell under the feet of King Viserys's daughter.

Rhaenyra was going on one of her secret journeys then, just like years ago with her uncle. But she wasn't expecting a child to run into her while running away from a bunch of boys.

Due to the force of impact, the brown cap fell from the child's head, revealing waves of snow-white locks that fell freely on her shoulders.

The princess did not believe what she saw, but looking at the icy blue irises of the girl who was looking at her intensely with hidden flames so deep inside her, she was convinced of their distant relationship.

Daenaera had never been so terrified in her life. She wasn't sure why she'd agreed to go with the woman to the castle. Maybe it was because of the softness of her voice, maybe becuse it was better everywhere than on the street.

Sitting in a fair-haired bedroom, she stared at the landscape outside the window before her eyes moved to the opening door, in which the king himself stood with her eldest daughter.

At first Viserys thought he had seen Aemma. He still remembered their first encounters as children, and her reflection sat on Rhaenyra's bed, only dirtier and scared.

His pale face twisted into a gentle smile, and his eyes were filled with the first little tears. The girl was watching him as intensely, only to look at the nearby princess who came up to her, standing next to her and placing one of her hands on her shoulder.

- Aemma - the ailing king whispered.

-This is the girl I told you about -the purple-eyed woman said, avoiding the subject of her dead mother- I'm sure she has our blood in her. She is one of us.

Daenaera wanted to question many things, tell them the truth, but she kept silent, just watching.

-What do you want me to do with that information Rhaenyra? We are not sure, and bringing an unknown child from the street will not do any good - said her father, although his eyes told a completely different story.

-Even her name. Why would she have a Valyrian name? - she asked, trying to convince her father.

-Why do you want to take her, daughter? - asked the king.

-I do not want to leave her alone on the street - she confessed after a long moment - I will take care of her like my own daughter. We owe her that.

White-haired girl wanted to say that it's not true. They didn't owe her anything, they didn't know her, but the woman's soothing touch made her body finally feel relaxed, calm. So in the next moment she was pressed against Rhaenyra, her forehead resting on her stomach.

-I don't want to go back there - she confessed quietly, closing her eyes in fear of rejection.

-You won't - the woman assured in a soft voice, stroking her hair and glancing at Viserys, who only sighed, his heart being his greatest asset as well as his greatest curse.

Two years have passed since the girl was taken into the care of Princess Rhaenyra Targareyn. She grew up with her two sons Lucerys and Jacaerys, who surprisingly quickly accepted her as their sister, not leaving her even for a step.

Her new family loved and defended her, proving their true intentions at every turn. Blue-eyed girl often questioned their actions, but her mother always shooed that thoughts away, which made Daenaera unknowingly come closer and closer to the point that she did not leave her foster mother side, feeling the safest in her embrace.

Violet-eyed woman felt the same emotions, becoming very close to the child, protecting her from the eyes of Queen Alicent and her three children. She couldn't do that with her sons, they were princes, and her father wanted the boys raised together, but Daenaera's nature made her quiet, almost distrustful, and Rhaenyra used it to her advantage.

The fair-haired child did not mind this, she preferred the older company and blamed her stepfather for it, because she couldn't longer perceived the joy in her childhood activities, often wandering around the garden or reading thick , old books.

This is why she was named the White Flower in honor of her snow-white hair and delicate like flower-petals personality.

Aemond sometimes had wonder if her title fully applieded to her. As a second son, he was often overlooked, lonely. So he observed her. And the sight of the princess, watched over by Harwin Strong himself, aroused his interest, growing more and more, so much so that the boy desperately waited for the moment when Daenaera was alone to be able to speak with her ,even if it was meant to be a single word.

Her blue and ice-cold eyes did not match the warm tone of her voice and red lips, which he found even more beautiful up close. The king's son found a common language with her, amazed at how good a listener the girl next to him was, ready to hear him without hesitation. But he quickly found that he preferred to listen to her rather than speak. Aemond's ear may have faded from the amount of words that came into him, but his mind was never fed up.

Their friendship was a secret, something forbidden. Their mothers could not find a common language with each other while putting their children on opposite sides of the wall they had built over the years.

And that was one reason their relationship collapsed. Aemond could've claimed the greatest dragon, he could've been injured and lose an eye, but the moment Alicent tried to attack Daenaery's siblings, injuring their mother during the process, everything in between them was lost. The Blacks and the Greens formed their sides, and the little girl joined her mother without hesitation, silently announcing that she would live and fight by her side, ignoring the young Targaryen's wounded heart, which had not fully healed even after the middle of a decade.

At that time, Daemon Tragaryen and his two daughters Baela and Rhaena joined her family. The man, to the surprise of many, treated Daenaera the same as her mother. He was just as loving and caring but much more dangerous.

The blue-eyed girl has matured over the years, turning into a beautiful woman with the same delicate features and blue irises. In addition, the egg she had received from the king himself had recently hatched upon their arrival at Dragonstone, making it a legitimate and worthy Targaryen.

Meraxes and she were inseparable, from the day the reptile was born, she spent time on the girl's shoulder, never leaving her, even for a moment, as Daenaera used to do with Rhaenyra. 

Their siblings liked to mock her and called her the mother of dragons because of her approach to the animal, but the white-haired girl did not mind in any way.  Deep dwon she was proud of the title and the fact that, even as a bastard, the dragon's blood still ran strongly in her veins.

The wind in her hair, the warm sun, the sound of the sea, and the flapping of wings were a sweet tune that young Targaryen genuinely loved.

She called it her personal definition of freedom.

Soaring above the bright clouds, she dove down as quickly as she appeared above them. The sea landscape stretched out beneath her body.

Blue eyes followed everything around her until Dragonstone appeared in the distance, towards which the young woman was heading. Passing through small islets, she flew past the stone structure before ordering Meraxes to land. The reptile's wings swirled in the air, scattering the blades of grass to the sides, her dragon may have been small, but it had a lot of strength in it.

As she descended from the dragon, she was greeted with the sight of Jacaerys standing near them.

-What are you doing here? - asked the girl, after a moment grabbing one of the gloves in her teeth to take it off her hand.

-We're going to King's Landing soon - he confessed, and she frowned in consternation.

Daenaera turned her head towards her companion.

-Jikagon riña (Go girl) - she said, patting her neck before she spread her wings above the ground.

The fair-haired girl did not miss a small murmur of irritation, which made her want to laugh. Valyrian has never been an easy language, especially for those who have not met it since birth, but the girl's hard work with her father made her use the old language extremely fluent, much to the discomfort of her younger brother.

-Mother told us to get ready - he continued, waiting for her to reach him.

-Sounds serious - his sister said, before a slight, malicious smile appeared on her face -But it does not stop you from irritating ,my dear brother.

-What do you mean?- He asked her, staring at her sparkling irises.

-Kessi sagon jēda skori kesā ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie lēkia (They will be time when you will speak high Valyrian brother) - notified Daenaera, staring straight ahead.

-Kosten ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie, mandia (I can speak High Valyrian, sister) - the brunet replied confidently.

-Kostan- the white-haired girl corrected him, and he looked at her stealthily, causing her to laugh.

-You know, you are supposed to be my wife, and the wife should support her husband, not stand against him - the boy noticed, watching as the facial expressions of her changed.

-It's just wishful thinking Jace. Nothing more -Rhaenyra's daughter announced before she quickened her pace, running away from further conversation.

The fair-haired girl's journey to King's Landing passed in silence. Standing away from her family members, she stared at the waves hitting the ship. Her peace of mind was disturbed when her parents decided to have a chat with her, as if sensing that something was bothering her young mind, but she reassured her that everything was fine, avoiding telling the truth.

When they finally arrived, no one knew about their presence in the castle. The courtyard was only filled with guards until one of the lords appeared at the door, surprised by their arrival.

Daemon and Rhaenyra visited King Viserys while the rest of the siblings were led into their chambers.

Daenaera did not stay long in it. Her curiosity forced her to leave the room. As she strolled through the corridors, she looked at the place she once called home. She tried to remember the way to the gardens, which had once been her favorite place.

As she walked forward, she watched her surroundings, noticing how many things had changed.

At one point, in the corner of her eye, she noticed something bright, contrasting with the dark corridors of Red Keep. Turning her eyes in that direction, she saw the man. He had long hair, he was tall, slim, but something mysterious and dark was beaming from him.

The girl frowned. She wondered who the stranger was, but when her eyes saw a leather band around the man's eye, she paused, speechless.

-Aemond?- she whispered, but he heard her anyway, her silky voice too hard to forget.

Boy in front of her turned fully towards her and she had to hold back a gasp that wanted to escape from her throat. Targaryen looked nothing like himself from years ago, he didn't even looked like a boy, but a man. His posture, clothes, face. He was radiating maturity.

Her uncle's eyes rested on her.

Her body was wrapped in a black dress that emphasized the figure of the white-haired girl, pushing her bust forward, on which rested a necklace with aquamarine in the middle, accentuating the color of her eyes. The snow-white hair was pulled back in a bun from which curly strands spilled out. She looked like a living masterpiece, something that should be forbidden, inaccessible to the ordinary eye.

Aemond narrowed their distance. The difference in height was significant as she tilted her head up and he tilted her head down so they could meet each other's eyes.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, only standing, facing each other. Daenaera's heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears, wondering if the boy could hear it as well.

-Niece -he replied after a long moment, shivers passed down her spine.

-It’s good to see you - Daemon's daughter confessed softly, suddenly losing all the remnants of her confidence.

-You too - he confessed, unexpectedly tucking a strand of her white hair behind her ear to find an excuse to move even closer so that his lips almost touched her ear - You look beautiful -he whispered, kissing her earlobe before he left without a word, disappearing out of Daenaera's view.

Suddenly, her original destination was long forgotten.

Blue-eyed girl stood by her mother's side, listening to political matters. She would have been bored if it weren't for the man who spoke about Driftmark's legitimate affiliation with her younger brother. Blood was boiling inside her as she heard sieges and slander about her family. Even the sudden arrival of the king, who was barely on his feet, did not help.

Everything in her was torn in different directions, the mind and heart could not reconcile with each other, so she stood stiffly, staring stubbornly at the swords adorning the iron throne.

-Her children are bastards! - suddenly there was a loud scream from Vaemond Velaryon -One that doesn't even belong to her, looks more like a Targaryen than her own sons! - he drawled through his teeth, and the girl closed her eyes, feeling anxiety penetrate under her skin - And she ... is a whore.

As the words left the man's mouth, everyone in the room held their breath, the atmosphere heavy, almost unbearable.

-For these words ... I'll take your tongue - Viserys announced menacingly, taking out his dagger.

But before he had time to execute his threat, Daemon's blade sliced the Lord's face in half. Daenaera stared at the severed piece of head until her mother grabbed her, shielding her body from seeing lying corpse.

-He can keep his tongue - her father said, but she no longer listened.

Holding on to Rhaenyra's arm, she waited for the end that came faster than she expected. Leaving the room under the care of her mother and siblings, she became absent, even more than usual.

The dead lord's words rumbled in her ears, reminding her of the painful truth. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she studied or how expensive dresses she wore, she was still someone else's bastard, raised by a family that wasn't really hers.

-I need to refresh- she whispered after a while to the fair-haired woman.

-Daenaera- began the princess, when she noticed a shadow of tears in her eyes - Do not listen to people who wish you to fall, do you understand? Nothing that was said towards us mattered.

-I know - she said with a slight smile. - I just want to freshen up -she repeated. -Calm down -she added before disappearing from Rhaenyra's sight.

The white-haired girl was pushing forward, without any specific target. She had missed her room a long time ago, eventually ending up in the royal gardens she had once so sincerely adored. Standing under Weirwood, she stared at the scarlet leaves aimlessly until she felt a presence behind her back.

One of the hands crept up on her hip, while the other gently grabbed her chin, twisting it to the side so that the girl's eyes could see behind her. Aemond was staring at her face, his eye closely watching the emotions bubbling inside her.

After a while the princess daughter felt the boy's thumb wiping away the tears running down her cheek, the ones she did not even notice, to bring their faces closer in the next moment, so that the noses of both touched each other.

-I do not like when you cry- he said with a surprisingly warm tone of voice -I would have killed him if my uncle had not been faster -he said suddenly, and she widened her eyes in surprise.

-You really changed- the girl whispered.

-As you did - he said, and she turned her head back, staring at the tree in front of them - I would like to show you something- he confessed after a long moment- Or actually someone.

Daenaera merely nodded her consent, allowing Aemond to lead her to the secret passage, right outside the city's outskirts. They both walked for a long time, until they were only surrounded by a meadow and a beach where the great reptile, Vhagar, was resting.

The girl widened her eyes, stopping in place. The dragon in front of her aroused interest in her as well as the fear that her own animal sensed. The sound of Meraxes echoed in her ears and a white dragon appeared in the sky.

-I believe he is yours - murmured the king's son.

-Yes- she replied, looking at her companion, who landed near them- She is very protective of me - girl added after she saw how creature was landing.

-When we were children, I promised you that I would fly with you on the back of a dragon whenever you wanted - he said nostalgically -But I see you don't need to stick to that promise any longer.

-I never said I didn't want to ride with you just because my dragon egg finally hatched - she remarked quickly -You are a Vhagar rider, it is an honor to fly with someone like you.

Targaryen led her towards the sleeping beast, which had time to open it's great eyes when they faced her. Reptile greeted her with a low grunt. Her hand involuntarily ran through the hot scales of a creature that was nothing like the monster that wreaked havoc so many years ago.

Aemond helped the blue-eyed climb up on the back, sitting behind her himself. Soon after, the dragon rose heavily and soared upward. Meraxes followed them, faithfully guarding her rider.

Daenaera, despite the fact that she flew so many times, felt as if it was her first time. As the old dragon's legs touched the ground, she could've feel her heart beating against her ribs, and pounded in her ears becuse of the amount of emotion.

-Where are we?-  asked Rhaenera's daughter.

-On some island, I believe -the boy said, helping her down.

-It seems deserted - said the white-haired girl, walking with Aemond, while their dragons were resting next to each other.

-It's good- he replied - Nobody will disturb us.

-With what exactly Aemond? - she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye - I can't believe we've gone, the gods know where to talk.

-You should believe it - he said, returning to his arrogant and cool disposition -We haven't seen each other for a long time.

-Exactly. We are different people - continued the blue-eyed stubbornly - The last thing I expect from you is a conversation.

-You're right - he said after a moment, stoping -I'm a different man, I've changed. I used to be afraid to hold your hand, but now I realized that if you want something in this world, you just have to reach for it - he announced before he grabbed her waist, pulling her into a sensual kiss, the heat of which almost burned her lips.

Her own hands rested in his long hair, trying to keep up with the purple-eyed, who was attacking her mouth in the sweetest way, causing her to just want more. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to cling to the body of the young man, whose own hands began to shamelessly wander across the fair-haired figure, stopping at the bindings of her dress.

After a while, heavy material began to slide down her shoulders, no longer protecting her naked body underneath. Aemond pulled it down without hesitation, too greedy to stop. His niece shivered at the cold air that enveloped her body, then sat down on her clothes.

Without a word, she broke the kiss, helping the boy in front of her remove the clothes that were in their way. Her hands were working quickly, impatiently wanting to see the white-haired man fully, but he stopped her by grabbing her cheek. She looked into his eye, waiting for the words that didn't came. Her uncle just smirked before attacking her naked neck.

A flush covered her cheeks as Aemond covered her skin with wet kisses. Daenaera had to bite her lip to keep the moans from escaping from her mouth. She felt a little nervous, she was not used to the kind of feeling that was flooding her veins now. The white-haired girl could not stop a sigh from escaping her mouth as the boy's cold fingers traveled over her skin. -You're so soft - he whispered lovingly.

-Aemond - blue-eyed moaned softly

The young woman had to close her eyes. His touch and the feeling of his irises against her skin made her dizzy, she hadn't expected it to be so intense for the first time.

-So beautiful...and only mine to be ruined- he said in a deep voice that sent shivers down her spine.

She lay down on the prince's silent command, closing her eyes in anticipation, and as soon as he began sucking and fingering her womanhood, all her worries left her mind.

-More. Please -she whispered between moans as he, taking his time, tortured her in a sweet manner.

Daenaera could've no longer control her mouth, her instincts taking over her body, making her want Targaryen with all her might.

She felt a strange feeling that she couldn't really put into words. Unknowingly she tightened around his fingers, and as her moans grew louder urging him even more, he began to add another finger, causing her to be almost on the verge of orgasm.

Her stomach was clenched, a strange feeling began to build up in her lower parts, blood began to rush to her ears. The white-haired girl's head fell back to the ground, her muscles tightened around his fingers.

-Cum for me - he muttered hoarsely.

When she did exactly that, her body stiffened, only to be picked up by the purple-eyed man who sat her on his lap moments later. The girl rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing deeply before Aemond started to move her again, this time directing her to his manhood. Daenaera felt her middle being ripped apart and she sobbed as she pressed against the young man's neck beneath her. The silver-haired boy stroked her back, trying to chase away the pain, and the same time trying to keep himself from pressing his hips into her's. After a long moment, the blue-eyed beauty began to slowly move her loins, letting Targaryen know that he could also move. He grabbed her thighs, lifting her body up and down, and she fully let him do it, feeling  the same familiar feeling warms her lower abdomen. They became one, and they both took full advantage of this feeling, too lost in each other to worry about the consequences. -Aemond - she gasped, tugging hard on his hair, making the prince growled loudly. -Let go - he said straight into her ear -Be a good little flower, and make a mess for me- he added, biting her neck.

Daenaera came almost screaming in ecstasy, causing Aemond to end up with her, unable to stop himself as her velvet walls pressed against him so deliciously and tightly.

Their eyes met in silent conversation until the young woman's soft lips rested on the prince's rough ones. -I missed you so much - she whispered before she pressed their foreheads together, drawing as much of the moment as she could.

The youngest son of the king breathed at her words, feeling the gap in his dark heart being filled with feelings for his beloved woman, which had been hidden for years, now ready to burst into flames.

[sl-ut]

months apart

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader 

description: aemond was less than happy when y/n was married off. now that he has her back, he’s decided that he’s never going to lose her again. (reader is the daughter of an unnamed oc–the younger daughter of viserys and aemma).

warnings: nsfw (no smut), swearing, mentions of death, incest (its hotd what do you expect)

words: 2.2K

date posted: 13/11/22

valyrian translations at the bottom

The sky was painted red, like the stone beneath his feet. 

A coincidence? Most definitely, though it certainly felt symbolic when he thought of the red that had tinted the snow just outside of Winterfell eight days prior, and he found himself wondering whether or not the same sky hung above her own head thousands of miles north. He could only picture her, a young widow in all black beneath the bloody heavens; The vision of a true Targaryen. He longed to lay his eye on her once more–the months had passed slowly without her by his side, and now she would return to him as if she had never left.

He’d smiled when he received her letter, and laughed as he read it. The wedding had been painful for him, watching her take a husband in his own home, watching him take her to their marital bed and mount her gently, as one might with a maiden (though she was no maiden, which he took great pride in). He beat a man half to death that night, only stopped by Ser Criston, and he silently wept the evening after he had watched her disappear into her wheelhouse and over the horizon. Then, her letter reached him in the months following, and he laughed at the news that her husband had not only been killed, but had been butchered on his route back from the nearby brothel. He hadn’t been worthy of her, and he never would be.

She spoke fondly of him in her letters, assuring Aemond that he was kind to her and never seemed to grow angry with her. She told him that he was a good man, though not as good of a husband as she might have dreamed of, as he spent many nights in the brothels, and when he did come to her bed, he was usually so intoxicated that he could not perform his husbandly duties. She also assured him of her regular consumption of moon tea, writing in fine penmanship that, I would bear no man’s child but yours, my Aemond, to which his breeches tightened as he rushed to find some ink and parchment to write out a passionate response.

“Aemond,” His mother spoke firmly to grasp his attention, “Have you been listening?”

He turned to glance over his shoulder at her, though he did not pretend to care, “Yes, mother.”

She sighed, clearly understanding the fact that he certainly hadn’t been, but continued on anyways, “In three months time, Princess Y/n will finish her mourning period in Winterfell and will take her leave. Princess Rhaenyra has insisted that her niece spend time with her in Dragonstone before returning to the capitol, which the King has insisted upon.”

“Why must she?” He demanded, turning entirely to face her, his silver locks sliding over his shoulder majestically, “Our sister is welcome to visit if she so please, but there should be no need to extend the princess’s journey from one dreadful place to another.”

Otto Hightower scowled as he watched his grandson’s clear displeasure, “There is little need to do so. In light of the king’s current condition, it would be in the best interest of the realm to prevent any unnecessary conflict in his presence. Princess Y/n will spend four months in Dragonstone with her aunt before she returns to King’s Landing.”

Aemond scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he stood straighter and stared menacingly down at his grandfather for a moment before pushing through the doorway and rushing off to his own rooms. 

Of course Rhaenyra would steal her away. She was possessive of their niece, being the only child of her twin sister, who tragically passed of the sweat three months after giving birth. She coddled her, promising that she would always be welcome at court when she became queen–yet another thing that Aemond felt he was being robbed of. Rhaenyra made it clear to everyone that she was unhappy with the close nature of the relationship between her niece and brother, and was very pleased to see her married into a powerful ancient house to a kind man, despite the fact that she would be so far away. If Rhaenyra had it her way, Y/n would arrive on Dragonstone and never leave, perhaps even marry her off to either Jacaerys or Lucerys if it meant that she was kept out of Aemond’s reach. He would die before either of those bastards lay a finger on her precious flesh. 

He received a letter from her upon her arrival in Dragonstone, smiling as he broke the seal and read her detailed account of the journey. He grinned when he read her words, I count the days until we meet again, my love, and he found his fingers hurriedly unlacing his breeches as he read over and over again, and I count the seconds until I am returned to my rightful place in your bed. 

Four months passed even slower than those before it, and Aemond awaited anxiously each day to see any sign of his beloved over the horizon. His mother scolded him for doing such, insisting that he could spend his days doing something more useful to both himself and the realm, while Aegon teased him endlessly for being so caught up in her skirts. The days when it rained or was simply too foggy, he spent in the training yard or riding Vhagar, though there were very few moments when his mind slipped from her oncoming arrival. 

And then, as he forcefully struck down yet another stable boy, pridefully unarming and throwing him to the hard earth of the training yard, horns blared. His ears perked at the sound, his blunted blade dropping from his grasp as he made haste back to the Red Keep, where he would make himself clean for her–how could he face his love in such a state of filth?

When he was cleaned, dressed in a soft velvet doublet, and scented with a spiced cologne that he was sure she would like, he found himself anxiously pacing the length of the front gate. His family soon joined him, as well as most of the more important courtiers as the gates opened, allowing a short parade to enter before a large wheelhouse rolled in. 

Aemond wanted to shout in displeasure as handmaidens began to file out of the carriage, wishing them to simply hurry up so that he might be graced with the pleasure of her appearance for the first time in just over a year. He wanted to beat away the guards who aided them, to push through the crowd and find her himself, to damn each of the worthless souls who were unfit to be in her presence, to–there.

His chest tightened as he found her amongst the crowd. Her hair was braided away from her face in a style he’d never seen her wear before, and she continued to wear black silk in mourning for her late husband, which he frowned at. Her eyes locked on him, flesh darkening as a blush took over her. 

“Granddaughter!” the king announced, feebly stumbling forward to greet her. She caught him in her arms, though she allowed him to present himself to be the one holding her up, not the other way around, “I was so very sorry to hear of the death of your husband. You would have made a wonderful Lady of Winterfell, but alas, my heart sings with joy to have you returned home.” He lifted his gloved hand to her cheek, “You mirror your mother more than ever before.”

Alicent stepped forward, a hand grasping her husband’s arm gently, “Princess, I hope your travels were well.”

Y/n smiled tightly. She had always been courteous with her step-grandmother, though she had been influenced by her aunt’s displeasure with her, especially after the conflict at Driftmark that had resulted in the loss of Aemond’s eye. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” She spoke clearly, “Winterfell was quite beautiful, but I’m afraid I am not quite built for the cold. The journey only allowed me to get used to the warmth once more.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Viserys chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead joyously, “A dragon need not readjust, fire is in your blood.”

“Come,” Alicent extended her arm to her husband, “The king must rest, and you must be dreadfully tired from your journey. Ser Criston will take you to your chambers.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Y/n curtsied, her eyes glancing over across the bored expression of Aegon, the dazed stare of Helaena, and finally the longing stare of Aemond. She could not continue down the line to little Daeron, as the singular violet eye narrowed at her, a nonverbal signal for her to go with Ser Criston. She nodded at him slowly before turning towards the knight and allowing her ladies to tug her along into the palace. 

Aemond dined early that evening. He waited impatiently in his chambers for the sun to go down. His fingers itched to rush to her chambers, to kiss and touch her, to love her and give her the children that he knows that she has long awaited. He longed for her time of mourning to come to an end–though he would argue that her husband was hardly worth mourning–and to take her as a wife. Finally, he could not wait any longer, and found himself sliding through the hidden passage from his rooms to hers, discreetly pressing himself into the wall behind a narrow tapestry.

Her ladies were buzzing about the room, putting her things away and preparing her for bed. Aemond narrowed his eye in the darkness, allowing it time to adjust before he began to search the room for his beloved, who he easily spotted near the fire, hair damp from the bath and dressed only in a robe made of fine green silk. He admired the slope of her neck, the shape of her lips, and the curve of her nose. He missed being granted the opportunity of gazing upon her beauty, and if he had it his way, he would never lose that pleasure again. 

She glanced at her ladies, smiling gratefully at them as one offered her a goblet of wine and tentatively taking a sip, “I wish to go to bed now, you all may go.”

He watched as they filed out of the room, staying in his place in the shadows as the door closed shut and eyeing her as she downed the rest of her wine. 

“You may come out now.”

He smirked as he finally crept out of the shadows, eagerly pouncing on the chance to view her in plain sight, “Green suits you, niece. Much more than black.”

She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at him, “I am in mourning, uncle. Or have you forgotten that I have become a widow?”

“Forgotten?” He scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine and carrying the pitcher over to refill her cup, “I have celebrated every day since.”

She hummed in response, “You should not speak ill of the dead. He was kind to me, a good man. He was–”

“He was a cunt,” Aemond knelt before her, “Unworthy of you.”

“And who is worthy?”

“No one,” He murmured, “Not even myself, and yet the gods bless me with your affections.”

The prince slid his hand up her calf, fingers caressing her flesh gently as she set her cup aside, taking his hand within her own. Heat sparked beneath her touch, leading him to glance back up at her. Her gaze was warm, longing for him in a manner he had never experienced.

“Funny, isn’t it?” She glanced down to her lap, “It has been just more than a year since we’ve last sat in the same room, and yet it feels like a lifetime. How we’ve changed in these months.”

“Se yet nyke zālagon syt jeme keskydoso,” He kissed her knee, setting his own cup aside to stand before her, using his grip on her to help her do so as well, “This year has been painful for me.”

“To me, as well,” She grinned, “Eman missed ao.”

She pushed up on her toes to nudge his nose with her own, coyly pulley back as he leaned closer and growled at her. 

“Do not tease me, my love,” He whispered to her, “I wish nothing more than to take you to bed and fuck you until morning. Do be warned, I will not be so eager to allow you rest, I have waited a year for you.”

She exhaled, lips brushing his, “I would be otherwise disappointed.”

He grinned, eye closing as their foreheads rested against one another. Finally, after months of longingly waiting for her letters, restraining himself from flying north and stealing her away, and relying on the pleasure of his own hand, he could have her. And he was sure that this time, he would not let her leave. She would be his bride.

For the first time after months apart, their lips came into contact, pushing together furiously as her robe slipped off of her shoulders, and his hands eagerly led her to the bed, sure to make good of his words.

translations: 

se yet nyke zālagon syt jeme keskydoso – and yet i burn for you all the same

eman missed ao – i have missed you

[bananadrinkxxx]

𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝓵 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝓵 (5)

Give me your loyalty

[Aemond Targaryen x female original Targaryen • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: War is going on between the Blacks and the Greens and Aemma Velaryon is brought to Aemond as a prisoner.]

Masterlist for all available parts (click here)

Aemond had not visited her for two days and Aemma was not angry about it.

Neither did she long for his presence nor did she want to be confronted with the fact that she was here at his mercy.

Aemma looked at the door as a woman with black hair entered. You could see that she was a little older, but that had done nothing to her beauty. She smiled as she put the food on the table.

"I'm not hungry," was all Aemma said, turning her head away.

"Refusing to eat is not wise, nor is it punishing the prince. It is, to be honest, the stupidest thing you can do."

Aemma turned around with a raised eyebrow. The strange woman looked at her challengingly, almost arrogantly. "And you are?"

"No one whose name you know. My name is Alys Rivers."

"A bastard?"

Each region of the Empire had its surnames for bastards. Snow for the North, in Crownlands they were called Waters, Sand for Dorne, and in the Riverlands they were called Rivers. And so on.

Alys nodded. "Yes, my father was Lord Lyonel Strong."

Aemma's mouth opened in surprise. If it was true, this rumor that had always haunted her and her brothers and that Aemma herself believed to be true, then Alys was her aunt. She had not known that her father had a bastard sister. Although it was not even a rarity, she had not expected it. A strange feeling, but also an irrelevant one. Just because they were possibly related meant nothing. The best example was Aemond and her.

"You can go Alys," Aemma commanded. "I'll decide when I eat."

Alys nodded. "Prince Aemond has already said you would say that. He also said should that be the case, then I am free to make you eat."

Aemma looked at Alys in irritation. She watched as she took a step backward and knocked on the closed door. Then two men entered. Aemma jumped to her feet.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Grab her," Alys ordered and the men came up to her and grabbed her. Their hands closed around her arms and held her tight. Aemma cried out and tried to fight back, but they outnumbered her in size, strength and numbers.

"Are you insane?" spat Aemma. "I am Princess Aemma Velaryon, and I command you, release me this instant."

Alys stepped toward her, appraising her, before lunging and slapping Aemma, an unexpected slap. Aemma's face flew to the side and she felt her cheek begin to burn. Stunned, she widened her eyes and looked at Alys, who didn't make a face.

"You are no one here. You have no orders to give. You are a prisoner and that is how you will be treated. Only the kindness of your gracious uncle protects you from death by hanging."

Aemma snorted. She tasted blood in her blood. The cunt had hit her so hard she bit her tongue. "Gracious? Kindness?," Aemma asked mockingly. "Aemond's goodness is worth shit if I rip his head off and give him my dragon to-"

Before Aemma could speak further, Alys slapped her again. "You will address his Grace with respect. And don't you dare threaten him, or I will not spare you."

Aemma laughed in disbelief. Alys reared up in front of her, wanting to scare her, but didn't she know that Aemma was a dragon? She had the dragon's blood in her and also its wrath. Before Alys could react, Aemma gathered the blood in her mouth along with her saliva and spat in her face. Satisfied, she watched as Alys backed away, sullied by Aemma's blood on her face. She stroked it, stunned, and looked at Aemma. Her eyes grew abnormally large.

"You bitch," she screeched, coming at her with her hand raised, this time palm clenched into a fist and ready to have it smashed down into her face. Aemma stuck her face out at her, not afraid of the pain or of Alys but before Aemma felt any pain, Alys was pulled back.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Ser Criston Cole, watching them all with a raised eyebrow, disgust on his face.

"Ser Criston," Alys said, humbled. "The prisoner has behaved disrespectfully."

"To you?" asked Cole with derision in his voice. "You're a servant, she's a princess. I hardly think you are in a position to reprimand her."

Alys looked uncertainly at Aemma and then back again. "But she is a prisoner, an enemy."

"Of royal blood. The prince decides how to deal with her. I can hardly imagine that he has given you permission to chastise her, can he?"

"She has offended the prince!"

"Then it is up to the prince to chastise her, not you, bastard." Ser Criston's voice was cold and thundered over their heads like a thunderstorm. Aemma had not seen him since her visit to King's Landing, since the dispute over Lord Velaryon's succession. He had grown older.

Alys winced and looked at the floor. She bit her lip. Aemma pulled up one corner of her mouth and snorted.

"I ask for your forgiveness," Alys said humbly.

"Rather, ask for my forgiveness," Aemma interjected, "because when I return on my dragon, you will be one of the first to burn."

Alys and Ser Criston looked to Aemma.

Die Männer, jeweils links und rechts von ihr, hielten sie noch fest, ließen ihr keinen Platz zur gegenwähr, doch sie ließ sich davon nicht unterkriegen. 

She was Aemma Velaryon of House Targaryen. No matter how much fear she felt, she would never bend. She was not a weakling. She was a dragon.

Alys hateful, Criston without a clearly discernible expression on his face. He surveyed her. It was the same look he had given her as a child. Disdainful and dismissive.

"That's enough for today," Ser Criston ordered without responding to Aemma's words. "The prince is on his way to Harrenhal. Prepare his chambers and a meal."

Criston Cole gestured with his head toward the door. Alys and the men nodded and walked out of the room. Alys gave her one last hateful look, which Aemma gladly returned before disappearing from her sight.

"You should be more careful with your words," Ser Criston said suddenly. "They may be your last."

With that threat, the knight disappeared and Aemma watched him go, biting the door shut behind him. She looked to the food on her table, the steaming soup she was sure Alys had spat in. She would accept nothing from these traitors. She would rather die.

. . . . .

Aemma heard the click first, before she was blinded by light. The sound jolted her from her sleep, making her wince. She reached for the spoon to her unstirred soup and clasped it tightly. It was only a spoon but with a lot of force, it would be able to be used lethally in the right place. She would not let anyone touch her again. She would rather die.

"Princess Aemma, don't be afraid," she heard a feminine voice and an old woman approached her. She looked slightly frail and her face was full of wrinkles. Aemma looked at her suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled, revealing her toothless smile. "A friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes of Ser Harwin Strong," the mention of his name made Aemma's heart leap. The memory of him still hurt. "I was his nanny and always loyal to him. And he has always been loyal to you. To your honorable mother. He knew who the true ruler of this realm was."

Hope arose in Aemma.

"You must follow me, I will release you."

Aemma looked at her in irritation. "Where are the guards?" She looked toward the door.

"I mixed something into their food. They are sleeping for a while."

The woman grinned with satisfaction and winked at her. "Come, we don't have much time."

Aemma stood up. The woman tossed her dress to her and Aemma took off her nightgown. She had no problem with the woman seeing her naked. She was used to being seen naked by servants and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Can I really trust you?"

"I guess the only way you'll know is if you don't stand around here wondering, but just do it."

She was smart. Aemma smiled and the woman returned her smile. "You'll have to go that way. At the end of the hallway you will find a painting. Behind it is a door. Open it and go along the corridor. Then you'll come out at a wooded area. Keep walking straight ahead. Avoid the paths. The forest is big and dangerous animals are lurking there," she pressed a knife into her hand. "Don't hesitate. Whether human or animal. Dangerous ones lurk everywhere."

Aemma took the knife in her hand. She looked to the woman.

"I will never forget you. If my family wins this war, I will not have forgotten you. You will be rewarded."

The woman grinned and stroked her arm lovingly. Aemma saw in her eyes, her sincerity.

 "Survive, that is reward enough for me, child. And now, go."

Aemma looked into her eyes one last time before nodding gratefully. Then she ran. This was her chance. She could not fail. Her mother was counting on her. Aemma ran as fast as she could until she arrived at the painting. A door, as the woman had promised. The hallway was dark and cold, which is why she reached for the torch next to the painting, which lit her way to the exit. When she reached the end of the hallway, she felt a door and opened it.

Moonlight and the cool air of the night. Aemma took a deep breath.

She looked left and right, but there was no one to be seen. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her toward the forest. Just before she arrived, she stopped, startled, as she was suddenly confronted by  guards standing by the adjacent lake with beer and food.

The men did not see her, but they stood directly between her and the only way to the forest. There was no other way. The men were laughing and joking as if the world was not collapsing around them. Idiots.

Aemma looked at the food. Then back to the men. They had left their food and were standing by the lake, joking and enjoying themselves as they carelessly bawled out their jokes. She would not get past them. They would see her, which was why there was only one way. Aemma stepped to her things and reached for the bottle of alcohol. Wine. Perfect. She poured some over the guards' things. Her swords she added as quietly as possible. Those fools didn't even hear how she gradually put everything in a pile. These were the Green's men? How pathetic.

Then she poured the alcohol everywhere she could. She poured the alcohol so that it was like a wall between them. Like a circle that confined her and gave her the opportunity to escape.

"Question," she began and the men turned to her in surprise. They looked at her with wide eyes and Aemma felt a satisfaction at what was about to follow.

"Aren't you cold?"

They saw irritated looks among themselves, but no one said anything. They were all shocked to see her standing there.

"You are lucky," Aemma began sweetly, almost girlishly. "I am a friend of fire. Let me warm you."

Then the sweet smile on her lips disappeared.

"Dracarys."

Her fingers released the torch, the fire landed on the alcohol trail, and in just a breath everything was in flames. The fire glittered in Aemma's eyes as it grabbed the men's belongings and they ran screaming towards her, only to be sent away by the flames.

Due to the alcohol, the fire spread furiously and everything was ablaze. The men tried to get their things, but they had no chance.

She briefly watched how the men tried to fight the flames, how they took water from the lake into their hands, but it was similar to fighting a wolf against a dragon. Useless.

Then Aemma ran.

As fast as she could.

Harrenhal was burning again. Aemma Velaryon had made it burn again, though she doubted the fire was dangerous in any way. It would only occupy her enemies for a few moments before they would come after her.

Aemma ran as fast as she could. She had no idea where she was running. She just tried to put as much space as possible between her and her enemies. They called after her, but she did not even turn around. Whoever hesitated died.

Aemma stopped hearing their voices and the hope that she had hung them out rose. But she was not stupid enough to stop. She couldn't let herself get caught. This was probably her only chance.

Then she saw the corner of her eye a shadow above her. The bare treetops, which had lost leaves through the winter, gave her a good view of the dark sky above her. And then she saw it again. The clouds parted in two and a roar echoed through the forest.

"Aemmaaaaa....," shouted a male voice she would have recognized among hundreds.

"Shit," Aemma cursed.

"You owe a debt, Aemma," roared Aemond as he flew over her head with Vhagar. She looked up. He was directly above her. Only the trees prevented him from looking down at her.

She ran while Aemond flew above her.

Aemond did came for her. 

"Riñeeee....," Aemond's voice chanted above her, "you can't escape me."

Aemma kept looking up in panic. 

"You are mine."

While she took what felt like a thousand steps, Vhagar had not even made the next wing beat. The fire must have attracted Aemond. But she had no other option.

He chased her like his prey, which he was about to eat at any moment.

"Aōha kepa jāhor va moriot ao." Your uncle will always find you.

Taglist

@dc-marvel-girl96 @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy-blog @crazymusicgirl104 @malfoytargaryen

[tachibubu]

Never Good Enough (1/3) [SFW]

∆ PAIRING ; (SoonYandere)Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader/OC/Self-Insert

∆ SUMMARY ; Being good friends was never enough. Two young children, Aemond & (Y/N), have known each other since they were a child. Their friendship leads to a conflict when a big accident happened that questions their loyalty to one another. Will they be able to preserve it?

∆ WARNINGS ; Incest obvs, mentions of death an spoilers of episode 6 & 7, angsty sht, no comfort as of yet(?), wrote this after years of hiatus so my writing aint as good and rusty as sht, kinda ooc? I tried mate, tried to give aemond character but it turns out mid, idk if yall will enjoy it or not.

NEXT PART

Aemond never had the feeling of love or being loved. So when he had a grasp of it, he felt as if something was wrong with him.

You are the daughter of Laena Velaryon. Before she was bethroted to Daemon Targaryen, she had an affair with an unknown man during her many adventures with Vhagar when she was in her rebel phase. She hid you amongst the crowd in fear that you would be exiled, or worse, be punished for just being born.

So she kept you hidden until Daemon provided you with an escape, declaring you were his and her child before they got married, and no one questioned the veracity of the tale in front of the hungry Targaryen man.

You were raised among the children of Rhaenyra and Alicent.

You bore no dragon, as yours remained unhatched ever since. Having the council and its audience further whisper the legitimacy of your birth. Although Lucerys and Jacaerys might be bastards as well, they at least had a dragon to make the jeering masses stop once they saw them practicing with the wild monsters as they described.

Because of this, despite his mother's remarks and pleas for him to stay outside of your lane, you and Aemond connected over your differences.

Alicent could not have allowed her son to travel with a bastard who can't even support her blood claims with a single dragon. It's like going on a stroll with a commoner, although one with the last name of the prestigious Velaryons. It will defame the name of her own child.

Aemond was worried and somewhat acknowledged some of his mother's accusations. He kept talking to you even if he would not say it out; nevertheless, having someone to put up with the constant bullying of his brother regarding his lack of a dragon was less painful when he wasn't the only one subjected to it.

Jacaerys teases you just as much as Aemond, but unlike his naive younger sibling or his uncle Aegon, he won't torture you with jests regularly.

Jacaerys would frequently strike up a discussion with you after the boys pulled a trick on you and Aemond, which you had to tidy up after. Given that you were the oldest and the most academically inclined, and considering that you were born a year before Aegon, you graciously accepted their behavior, even though they were childish. This meant that your brain was mature at a young age, and you simply decided that their foolish pranks were merely ant jokes and should not be taken into consideration.

When you informed Aemond of this, he was perplexed. In addition to giving you a scathing response about the horror of meeting your alleged bully, Jacaerys, he also expressed confusion about your ability to never lose your cool in such situations.

This is what Aemond admired about you; the way you took in all the comments about your parents' alleged whoreness but also took in on being the laughingfool of the kingdom as having the Velaryon name with no snow white hair and a dragon.

He would not show his admiration for you; he was boyish about it and adamant about not having feelings for you when his emotions were displayed otherwise.

When he was still young, to his highness', the queen's, dismay, he would steal glances at you, bring you the loveliest flowers he could find in the gardens and set them on your seat before breakfast was called in, and ask the maids or his mother about your whereabouts. He regarded you as a close friend and harbored feelings for you, but kept them to himself.

You held onto his considerate actions and discovered yourself blushing at his newfound boldness. You responded by giving him a kind smile and glancing at him with your cheeks continuing to flush.

Since you selected the academic path and Kingslanding offered a wealth of opportunities, you had not seen your mother in years and had only exchanged letters instead. As a result, when Aemond suddenly disclosed your loss while you studied for a test you had created to review yourself, it was an episode you would never forget.

When your mother passed away, you experienced grief. You're in despair. The Blacks and Greens joined together to experience the burial of your mother. Aemond draped a bit of his cloak around your pinky in an attempt to conceal it from prying eyes as he held it.

For a bit, you talked about your grief for Aemond during the ceremony. He held your hand as the tears streamed across your face, then he tightened his hold, whispering gentle words of consolation.

You finally got to meet your sisters during the funeral. Well, step-sisters, but a sister nonetheless. They were obviously of pure blood, and you couldn't help but chuckle as you considered that, in her final moments, your mother might have realized that she was no longer a whore in the eyes of the community but rather a devoted member of her pride and family.

As he observed this, Aemond experienced some heartbreak over the fact that you were able to make more friends than he did and enjoy your own isolation, but he was also relieved that you were able to finally develop into a more social individual. He restrained himself from feeling more envy and soothed himself with the knowledge that you would always stand by him and support him. Why should he worry when you both know each other and have an awareness of what you both felt but didn't express?

But what Aemond doesn't realize is that you had a different perspective when you heard about the news of Aemond claiming Vhagar as well as hurting his eyes and his nephews in the process. You were outraged. You might as well add livid.

When Aemond demanded your comfort while being tended to publicly, you refused to look at him and instead chose to pay attention to the small pool of blood on the stone floor.

After the argument between the two families and their commotion over who was at fault, Aemond noticed that you had vanished like a newly born star beginning its first ever shine.

He started to consider all the negative possibilities and soon started to use childish logic. What does it matter if he took your mother's dragon after she was buried? You ought to be pleased that he has at last acquired a dragon. Despite lacking morality, he did earn it honestly.

The next day, when he was preparing for the departure, his mother, the queen, asked for him to call you back as they would be leaving soon. So he did, though he did pant a sweat after being clueless several times about where you'd been.

However, Aemond never loses sight of his objective once he sets his eyes on it. Finally, he saw you at the coast, still dressed in your previous nightgown despite it being sunrise.

"(Y/N), it is time to go." He began. "Mother ordered me to fetch you."

Aemond began to worry. Your eyes were still hazy. Once more clearing his throat, he added, "(Y/N) you know I did what I had to do. As a Targaryen man, we are required to bear a dra-"

"I thought I knew you well." You retorted, not letting him finish.

Aemond's reaction was a bewildered one. Out of all the replies he could get, this one hurt the most. He was very indifferent towards you, was he not? His nose flared while a sour emotion bubbled inside of him. "No, it was you who I thought I knew well!"

"Did we not yearn for each other's eggs to hatch and for the peeping eyes of people's expectations to soon be destroyed? I thought you would be delighted for me, happy that I finally have a dragon!" He added.

He received no reply but a whimper. He knew you to be strong and not weak. He anticipated that you would think about his argument rather carefully, given that you rely on logic rather than emotions, but he finally saw who you really were. You are insecure, he finalized.

"I expected you, as a friend, to be ecstatic about my gain and to greet me with open arms for my new ranking. I only wish for your warm embrace, nothing more. " He stepped forward, not minding the morning wind's coldness.

You took one last breath before confronting him. Aemond's breathing became labored. Right now, you most closely resemble rage if anger were a living entity. "And what? Why should I embrace the man who soiled my mother's grave just the day of her burial? Tell me why I should be cheerful, or why, in fact, should I parade myself as I boast for your claiming of my dead mother's dragon? "

You finally had the chance to gaze upon Aemond's expression. It is the look of someone who has been betrayed. If you knew better, you wouldn't have given in to the sudden want to hug him, to tell him that it was all fine, and you did knew better. What he did was far more heartbreaking and discorteous than whatever he felt about your actions.

"I thought you knew me well, but it seems our understanding is not mutual." Aemond replied with a pursed lip.

In return, you sneered at the younger boy, "Well, if you ask me, I thought I knew you well too. For some boy whom I used to love, my vision towards yours has changed drastically, as I have realized how drastically your actions happened this early morning."

What was love to him? He came to a halt. His mother instilled in him the idea that love is only an illusion and that he should place more emphasis on his duties. Love comes as a reward for a job well done. He passionately believes that.

But why must it come after? Why can't he take the treat now?

His lips and throat quivered, and his eyes started to moisten from the sunrise. He was forbidding himself not to cry. Once you recognized what was happening, you began to fumble with your gown's hem. You were drifting apart, you knew it. You parted your lips to muster up a continuation, but Aemond got there first.

"Apologies for the inconvenience, my lady. I would inform my mother, the queen, about your immediate departure. "

He then softly walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

After many years, people—possibly even the maids—finally heard what you, the oldest Velaryon child, permanent residency withdrawal from the Red Keep and the decision to continue your scholarship privately at High Tide. As one of the best scholars in Kingslanding, they believed that the princess Rhaenyra was plotting something with a new strategy that included you. As soon as it was revealed that your stepfather, Daemon, was wed to the princess Rhaenyra, they began to believe the tale, even if it had not yet been shown how they would carry it out.

As he grew progressively older and older, Aemond clung to the term "love," hoping you would come back as his infatuation over you grew ever more intense. He was more aggressive and smug as he continued his training. Your remarks had a profound effect on his ego (in a taunting way), and he utilized them to continually elevate himself. He grew taller than Ser Criston this year and was able to counter the fighting prowess of the Kingsguard. He studied philosophy, history and the process of ruling a kingdom as well as the arts of war. He loved to pretend that he was doing this for himself, but in reality, he was hoping that after you two met, you would soon come to regret your words regarding his placement.

He had waited long enough to receive a message from the family dinner that you were soon to be wedded with Jacaerys and that the Blacks would be coming to manage both the succession to Driftmark and your marriage to the oldest stepchild on your stepmother's behalf.

The Greens were frightened and started formulating a strategy, but Aemond remained silent with a throbbing head.

Aemond's world turned red.

I wrote this at 12 am so forgive me for my mistakes and sht. My knowledge about the universe of song of ice and dragon is scarce so if there are any mistakes pls do tell me huhu. This was supposed to be a one shot but it was too long so I stopped at that point. Ill upload the last part whenever im ready. Also this is greatly inspired by @missglaskin writing style, their way of writing is unique and the use of headcanon format but still telling a full story is very unique and less time consuming for me if I copy their format so I hope they dont mind fjfjfjdkdm.

If the read more function doesnt work ill fix it tom sorry lmao.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

🐉𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰🐉 (WORK IN PROCESS)

Including warnings, wether they were one-shots or bigger stories and other useful things like when I wrote them and how dark Aemond is in the stories. The list is a work in process so please be patient as I try my best to get it together:)) The princess of Dragonstone is fully published her and on archive.

My one shots are here as well.

The list is devided into older more dark and less polished content and warnings should be headed before clicking on anything of it.

BIGISH STORIES

🐲The princess of dragonstone🐲 Completed.

THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE IS COMPLETED AND HAS HER OWN BEAUTIFUL MASTERLIST HERE. DO MIND HER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. THANK YOU.

🐝FIRE AND BLOOD🐝An intense story about two rivial brothers, doomed to always wanting to outshine each other, a civil war, and a noble girl who loses everything caught between them. Aemond x oc, Aegon x oc. Smut, dark smut, sharing, non-con, dub-con, brat-taming, slavexmaster things dom/sub themes and sadism as well as major characters death (but not aemond nor aegon or mc)

Chapter one: Lessons and punishments

Chapter Two: Plans and plots

Chapter Three: First times

Chapter Four: Jealousy

Chapter five: Death and duty

CHAPTER SIX: Punishment

Chapter seven: Aftermath

Chapter eight: Drinking

Chapter Nine: Battubs and compensation

Chapter ten: Pain and pleasure

Chapter eleven: The death of duty

Chapter 12: The death of duty

Chapter 13: That still small voice

Chapter 14: Kinslayer

Chapter 15: Dragons and the bee

Chapter 16: Last fluttering of wings

Chapter 17: The new norma;

Chapter 18: Reunion

Chapter 19: Queen of the Hive

Chapter 20: Fire and blood

Chapter 21 :the dance of two dragons

Chapter 22: a unwilling queen

FUTURE CHAPTERS ARE PLANNED FOR THIS FIC!!

❄️Snow Falls❄️ (x Aemond only) deliciously dark!Aemond, some say the darkest out of them. Aemond Targaryen is looking for allies in the North, for his brother's cause. So, he goes to the second biggest house in the North: House WyldeWoods of WyldeCrest. He takes a interest in the daughter of Lord Wyldewoods, the coy and mysterious lady Willa. She was never mentioned in the books discussing her familiy, and he wonders as to why that is. After Lord WyldeWoods makes some rather anti-Valyrian comments, Aemond takes you prisoner and beheads your family, claiming you as his wife and spoils of war.

CHAPTER ONE: Winter is coming

CHAPTER TWO: FIRSTS

CHAPTER THREE: SNOW DRIFTS

CHAPTER 4: THE PRICE

CHAPTER 5: ESCAPE

CHAPTER 6: THE FOX AND THE DRAGON

CHAPTER 7: THE THING YOU LOVE MOST

CHAPTER 8: THE PRICE OF GOLD

CHAPTER 9: SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENCE

CHAPTER 10: THINGS WE DO IN THE DARK

CHAPTER 11: The North remembers

CHAPTER 12: NIGHTMARES AND DAYDREAMS

CHAPTER 13: THE BURDEN

CHAPTER 14: REBELLION

CHAPTER 15: Fire and Blood

CHAPTER 16: AWAIT OUR TURN

CHAPTER 17: IF THE CARRIAGE IS ROCKING-

CHAPTER 18: READING

CHAPTER 19: KINGS AND QUEENS

CHAPTER 20: LESSONS IN THE BEDROOM

CHAPTER 21: The prince and the fox

Chapter 22:The bathroom

Chapter 23: The library

Chapter 24: The dining room

Chapter 25: Running around in circles

Chapter 26: Attonment

PILLARS OF SALT AND PILLARS OF SAND

Story about Harwins and Rhaenyra's daughter who bends the knee to Aegon to save Luc life. (Aegon central fanfic) Darkish (but aegon is not dark)

Chapter one: Storm's end

Chapter two: Alternatives

Chapter Three: Prisoner

Chapter four: A demented idea

Chapter five: The wrath of a mother

Chapter six: A shadow of a conquerer

Chapter seven: Two princesses, one dreamer

Chapter eight: Of wives and kings

Chapter nine: Those last moments of what we call ''freedom''

Chapter ten: The realms villian

Chapter eleven: One soul, one heart, one flesh

Chapter 12: The house that carried the dragon

Chapter 13: Gods, guts, gifts.

ONE SHOTS

Due to space issues, the one-shots wont be on my archive. You can find them here on tumblr:)

🦌Storm's ends fury 🦌

A short story about Maris Baratheon and her kiss with Aemond Targaryen at Storm's End. (Very short, barely 400)

🦌Fury's Storm, alternative version🦌

A short story very samilair to plot above might be a rewrite i did i cant recall how this ended up on my profile. Bratty Aemond though.

🐧The things we do for love 🐧(Dark!Aemond and Aegon capture daemons lover. Smut and other things) part 2 and now recently part 3

🧀Untiteld genderbend cheese assasin x aemond fanfic🧀 x aemond mostly

🌓The first night x aegon mostly🌓 A story about a girl marrying her love and Aegon and aemond getting upset with her breaking the laws.

🔫the devil made us sin criminal au story about criminal aegon and aemond 🔫

🌖For the night is dark and full of terrors: 🌖Priesteress mc who loves Aegon and her mother wants his throne

🔫The devil made us sin other version 🔫

🔫The devil made us sin gore aemond or aegon snippet🔫

🦌Storm born baratheon x aemond one shot. part 1 and 2 🦌

The maid of the red keep oneshot

Pirate mc one shot

The final devil made us sin and the best one at that part 2 is here

Lion brat part one

Spy queen x prince regent aemond

Aemond x Daemon one shot

GOTXHOTD One shot

ashes burn

The girl in the silver dress

Daddy dearest

Sandstorm

----

Updated on October 22 2023

[misguidedasgardian]

The White Dragon (45 FINALE)

45. Kept Promises

MASTERLIST

Summary: you get to enjoy everything you worked so hard for

Pairings: Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader, many OC X Other OC characters 

Warnings: cursing, birth, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, talks about past war, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2,3 k

Notes: Can’t wait this is it, a story I’ve been writing for almost a year! a story that was so cherished and commented, and even TRANSLATED! wow, it is mindblowing, thank you all who have read it so far, this was my first HOTD story, and it won’t be the last, it certainly will be the longest though hehe, well enjoy it!

3 years later

“What am I supposed to do without you?”, you asked lazily, as Cregan smiled back at you

“Keep reigning beautifully as you had done so far”, he responded, as he sipped on his chalice of wine, he was going to go back North Tomorrow, spending three years as your hand, and in the capital, refusing every time you offered to take him up there in Dragonback, “You are going to name…?”

“Aemond”, you responded, “as my hand, he has been here by my side, I think is time”, he nodded

“Very well”

“You will be missed at court”, you said gently

“Is that the way you yourself say you’ll miss me?”, he teased, “I need to go home, with my children, RIckon is growing up without his father and, my daughters too, they need me”

“I know”, you said, “we will be fine, I had some practice over this three years”, you said with a shy smile

“Well, let’s attend this feast you organized in my honor”

Tomorrow you were going to lose your first hand and your very best friend, but it was time, and you had been very selfish to keep him this whole time, when at first he was only going to stay for one year

You walked alongside him throughout the Keep

“I’m going to miss this place”, he said, as you looked around 

You passed by Steffon, training the new Queensguards and soldiers in the courtyard, you passed by the God’s wood, were Saera, your ten year old daughter was reading with the Septas in the garden, and Vaegor was in his class with a maester 

You walked side by side with Cregan

“What about Daeron?”, he asked then

“He is in Oldtown, I gave him my blessing to marry a distant hIghtower cousin, and he sends me letters regularly, so he is settled”, you said, relieved.

You even passed by the small Sept, within the castle’s walls, and there she was, Alicent, who had taken the cloth, she was reading the seven pointed star, the religious book, she barely noticed you passed by, and you preferred it so, you didn't want to disturb her

“She asked me permission to go to Oldtown to see her son, I think she wants to stay there, I told her yes”

“That is smart”

“I know I have been taken her counsel, is wise counsel, I hope she wants to come back, I’m losing all my counselors”, you said with a shy smile

“You will be fine”, he said, “so now I understand, I acted like the devil in your shoulder, and she acted like the little angel”

“Something like that”

You even walked towards the battlements, the higher places of the walls around the castle, and there he was

“My Queen”, he purred, kissing you swiftly in your lips, you giggle like you were a little girl, Harwin was as big as ever, maybe more snow in his head, but he was as handsome as ever

“Are you getting everything ready?”, you asked

“Indeed I am”, he said, “I will leave tomorrow and you will follow a week from now”, he said, “and we will be free enough to go home even if its only for a moon”, you smiled and nodded

“Oh right, I leave and you start neglected your duties”, Cregan mocked

“Yes, sure”, you said back, “Aemma could give birth every day from now”, you said with a wide smile, “we want to go home”

“I thought she was in Dragonstone”

“She decided to have the child in the Whitehall”, you said, smiling softly

“Great”, he said

“We all will gather, my whole family, under one roof once again”, you said, Rhaegar is coming from the North, with his family”

“Sara included?”

“Indeed”, you said, “Karnax had grown massively, they will probably fly down here, and it won’t take them two months”

“What a marvel is to travel in Dragonback”

“Riding dragons is the best thing ever”, said Harwin looking back at you, so seriously you wouldn’t believe he was being a dirty man, you slapped him on his chest

“Haha”, you mocked

“Your Grace”, you looked back to see Aemond walking towards you

“How is the planning for the reconstructions of the slums of Flea Bottom going?”, you asked him

“That was what I came here to discuss with Ser Harwin”, he said with a shy smile

“I’ll leave you to it”, you said, “and after this, you are free to go to the Whitehall”, you said back

“After we say goodbye to the Lord Hand”. 

“I will see you all at the feast”, you demanded, and you left Cregan there and kept walking alone through the walls, towards the sea 

Aemond and Aemond had been here, by your side all these years, after you, not officially, had decided to name them both your heirs, that way, they will be eased into the huge burden of ruling the seven Kingdoms

But Aemma, with a child in her belly, had decided to go back to Harrenhal to live her first pregnancy at peace, accompanied by her big brother, Helaena, and her sweet nephews, and Aemond went back and forth, it was a couple of hours journey on Dragonback

And as you looked to the Narrow Sea, you thought about the long journey that took you here, that made you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

You missed your family, and the way things would have been, if only… if wasn’t for Otto HIghtower’s greed

You would be a huge family, three times as large, more powerful, the greatest dynasty, and even though you had won, you wished you didn’t need to play the game in the first place

But it was too late now

Things were as they were and you couldn’t change them.

you enjoyed a huge feast in the name of your Lord Hand of the Queen Cregan Stark

And everyone was there, representatives of all the great families, 

And the next day, you said Goodbye to Cregan at the harbor, with your two youngest children by your side

“Anything you need, I’ll be a raven away”, he said to your ear as you hugged him tightly

“Same thing here”, you whispered

And then, he was gone

As was Harwin, and you stayed in the Keep, to make sure your small council was ready to run the Kingdoms while you were gone. Rhaenys was in, so you certainly knew everything was going to be alright 

And when you were getting ready to send out the royal statement that the taxes were going to lower in preparation for the next winter, you received surprising news

“Your grace, we got news from Harrenhal, King consort Harwin is there, princess Aemma is in labor”

You and Aemond ran through the Keep and to the Dragonpit, you had to go and arrived as soon as you were able, to ask your dragons the impossible 

. . .

“It hurts papa!”, she cried, and he shushed her gently against her temple

“I now my sweet girl, I know”, he holds her tightly against his chest, wiping the sweat of her forehead with his big hand, “I know, breathe for me, my girl, breathe”, she did as he told him, breathing heavily

“Mmmmm AH!”, she screamed, threatening to crush her father’s hand under her tight grip

“Fuck!”

“HERE I AM!”, screamed Aemond, storming into the room

“Where the fuck have you been?”, Aemma and Harwin screamed at the same time, “fucker I hate you for doing this to me!”, Aemma added between contractions, “I have been at this for hours!”

“She is all yours”, said Harwin. 

With a last kiss to her sweaty forehead, Harwin left the room, leaving Aemond to accompany his daughter

“How is she?”, you whined, arriving too panting for the run you had just performed 

“In pain, but very energetic”, said Harwin, “she is going to be fine”, he said hugging you tightly 

“You are the best father ever”, you whispered, hugging him back

“Prince Rhaegar and his lady wife Sara Stark are here your grace”, said one of your Queensguard who had been here keeping your children safe, you only nodded 

“Please stay still, my love!”, you heard through the hallways, and then there he was, your son, holding his two year old daughter in his arms, who was so fuzzy, Sara held her baby daughter in her arms, as she was already pregnant again

“Welcome my loves”, it had been a while since you saw your child.

“Oh, let me see her”, you cooed, grabbing the newest addition to the family, “hello you”, she was so beautiful, and as you held your granddaughter in your arms, you were reminded of your own children and when you held them for the first time

“Look Harwin”, you whispered, looking down at the beautiful baby girl, with pitch black air and purple eyes

“Let’s go see Maekar and Helaena”, before you arrived to the great hall, you were received by the twins, who greeted you happy to see you, and led you to the family hall

A more personal space, designed only for you and your family, with comfortable spaces and long chairs for all of you to see

There they were, Maekar, holding in his arms the little boy Helaena gave him, a silver haired, green eyed boy, who they named Baelon

“Mother”, he greeted, hugging you tightly, they all greeted each other, and you, with already one grandchild in your arms, sat down as Helaena sweetly placed your other in your other arm, they were so tiny and cute

“I love them so much”, you whispered, Harwin sat by your side, to also enjoy his grandchildren

“Gods woman, we are old”, he chuckled in your ear, and you laughed

“We are not old Harwin, only seasoned”, you said 

But the evidence that age was catching up to you was right there, and as you looked around, and saw four of your five children, and their two spouses, and their own children, two of them in your arms, you smiled so widely.

Harwin took Erena, Rhaegar’s daughter into his arms

“Apa! Aba!”, cheered Gilliane, Rhaegar’s oldest, and you accommodated her between you both as well

And you spend the next few hours waiting on Aemma

And then finally your queensguard entered the room

“Princess Aemma gave birth to a healthy baby boy, your grace!”, he said, even he couldn’t hide his smile, “both are healthy and strong!”

Everyone cheered

One little baby that one day was going to sit the Iron Throne

Harwin and you entered the room first, and there they were the two new parents, with their bundle in their arms, and that look in their eyes

Your daughter looked beautiful, her loose silver hair, her sweaty face, that was the one of a woman now

“Mama, papa, meet Aerion”, she introduced. A small silver haired boy with amethyst eyes 

“Nice to meet you”, you cooed, leaning in to kiss your daughter in her forehead, “you did so great my sweet sweet girl”

“thank you mama”, you whispered

“Let me see the little guy”, said Harwin, accommodating by your side 

“Good job my sweet”, he whispered to his daughter.

“Congratulations Aemond”, you said softly, and he smiled thankfully

“Thank you” 

After so many years, and so many things that happened, people that came and went, people that were always there and were never coming back, and people that went away too soon

It took you long years but you finally managed to fulfill that promise you and Harwin made to each other.

Once many years ago promised you were going to return home, with all your children, and finally you had

Even if it was temporary, even if it was for a little while…

All your children and grandchildren, together, under one roof

You wished you could stay like this forever.

. . .

Another year passed, yo had made Aemond your hand, and Aemma and little Aerion were back in the capital, so you decided, with their line secured and then already taking responsibilities within the Kingdom, you summoned them in the entrails of the Red Keep

With Balerion the black dread as a witness, the Valyrian steel dagger of the Conqueror in the fire, you looked at both of them in the eyes, and grabbed their hand in yours, and squeezed reassuringly

“I will tell you both about the Dream of the Conqueror”, you began softly, “the song of Ice and Fire”

Reader and Harwin lived happily ever after, he the ever supporting husband, he stopped being Lord Commander of the city watch, and just stood and supported his wife until his death in 171 AC, Reader survived him, for 9 more years, passing in her sleep at 69 name days

Aemma and Aemond succeed her, reigning together, following the legacy of “the conciliator come again”.  having two children, a boy Aerion, and a girl Aerea, who would sit the Iron Throne together after them

Maekar and Helaena lived together in Harrenhal with their children, Jahaerys, Jahaera and Maelor would later return to the Keep to be a part of court, while Helaena stayed at the white Hall with Maekar and their own children, who continued the legacy of House Strong

Rhaegar and Sara had beautiful daughters together, and by the side of Cregan they kept the North safe and united, also with Cregan’s son Rickon.

Saera stayed in court by her mother’s side 

Vaegor wanted to travel the seas, so you let him, Corlys and Rhaenys took him under his wing, him and Lucerys were little pirates in training 

The funeral pyre of the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was the greatest they had ever seen

People from all over the world made the journey to Harrenhal, to witness it, as the great White Dragon lit the fire that sent her rider to the next life. 

Vhaelar, the White Dragon, the wild dragon who only had one rider, took to the skies after, to never be seen again.

Goodbye

Alright, I don’t know how else to celebrate the ending of this story that I have been writing since OCTOBER 2022, it’s bananas! almost a whole year! 

It was my first Hotd story, and the most inspiring one. There was a time I even posted one chapter a day because I couldn’t stop, and readers wrote to me at every turn, to ask me things, and suggest some more, and I LOVED what I felt with so much interaction.

Well, finishing this story means something HUGE for me, really, it’s the longest story I have written, and I can't even believe I’m finally finishing it.

And believe me when I tell you this came out so different from what I hoped and what I wanted to write in the beginning, but in the end, I'm so pleased and satisfied.

I want to thank everyone who read this story, and give you my eternal love

 Anyways, thank you all, and the sentiment of relief I’m feeling right now, to finish something so long and that I’ve worked so hard on, I’m having mixed feelings, relief, but sadness that is ending… anyways

Thank you all, love you 

taglist!

@tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx @grippleback-galaxy @mikariell95 @genesisliveson @mendes-bae @caspianobsessed @notmundane3000@kamisunshine@just-someone11@ietss @joliettes @whodis-26