#and if alice is a character who ends up returning she could be the one to teach will how to use his powers

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Lost and found

Self-Aware BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x GN! Reader

Description: You dissapeared a month ago. You finally returned home.

Warning: OOC. Religious fanaticism. Non-descriptive torture. Reader almost get killed. English is my second language.

Normally, the atmosphere in the house was happy. Kids were playing on the playground, Akutagawa siblings often watch movies in the living room, Oda and Kunikida discussed books in the library. Sigma can start a spontaneous poker game. And much, much more.

But, most importantly, there were you.

In one moment, you were reading books with Poe, and Karl was sitting on your lap.

Next moment you were fooling around with Nikolai.

Then you were having a competition, where Tachihara with Teruko on his shoulders were racing against Tetchou with you on his back.

It was fun.

It didn't last.

The day you disappeared became the worst day of their lives.

No more laughing.

No more having fun.

They were searching for you.

Looking under every branch in the forest.

Breaking in every house, where people, that have even smallest disagreement with you.

Sleepless nights.

And constant search.

For their Dear Guiding Light.

______

Different religions have different things, that can be considered blasphemy. Yes, some acts can be called "universal" blasphemy. That everyone, no matter, where they are from and what their beliefs are, would call such acts blasphemy.

But, some religions, have something, that only for them will be viewed as blasphemy.

In Teyvat any resemblance to the All-Creator was the act of blasphemy. The worst sin. The High treason.

And sinners must be punished for the heinous act.

Creator would sit on their ivory throne and command their holy knights to destroy the Corruption.

Because The Embodiment of Divinity can't be wrong. Because The One, who brought life, are doing it for the good of the Teyvat.

So, when the news about another Sinner being spotted in Mondstadt reach Creator, they ordered their Divine Knights to Purge the Sin from Teyvat.

Creator love Teyvat. Creator love humans. Creator destroyed Celestia, an embodiment of Sin, that tried to destroy Creator, the moment they sat on the ivory throne.

Creator were freedom. That's why Barbatos didn't feel bad, commanding wings of Teyvat to feed the fire, that Knights of Favonius set, to burn the small cottage with you inside.

Creator were following their contact, the promise to protect Teyvat. That's why Morax didn't bat an eye, throwing a stone spear at a boat, where you were hiding.

Creator were internal. So Baal didn't regret unleashing the power of lightning on you.

Creator were a fake. It was real knowledge. But Real Sinner have power. Nahida were sorry, that she and Aranara's could give you only a small break.

Creator were Justice. Fontaine people were ready to hung you up. Real Sinner have power. Furina and Melusines were hiding you as long as they can. When you saw the enraged Neuvillette, who was ready to destroy the village, you left by your own accord.

For Creator, they would start a war. In Natlan you were almost caught. By pure luck, Columbina's attack didn't end your life.

Fatui's dream became reality, because of the Creator. Snezhnaya's people were ready to tear you apart.

Instead, they tie you up and drag you to the Ivory Throne.

_______

You didn't like being transported to Teyvat.

Yes, it was beautiful. But, you missed your friends and family. You missed BSD Gang.

Worst of all, you didn't have your phone with you. You can't even try to reach out to your world.

You decide to find Traveler, or Abyss Sibling, or Alice. Maybe, they can send you home?

You wished you stay in the wilderness.

People of Teyvat hated you. Traveler hated you. Abyss Sibling hated you.

Everyone called you a disgrace. Sinner. Corruption, that must be purged.

They try to burn you alive.

They chased you like a wild animal.

They wanted to kill you.

And every person who tried to help you were punished.

You had no idea, what happened to Nahida and Aranaras. And you hopped that Yoimiya, her father, Furina and Melusines were fine.

You were captured a week ago.

Week, full of torture.

Of boiling water, that was poured down your throat.

"Dirty heretic! Accept the cleansing of your soul from impurities!"

Of hot iron on your skin. Of terrible scars on your chest.

"Heretic"

And you were forced on your knees before an Ivory Throne.

Your exact double raise their hand.

And Five archons and one Hydro Sovereign attacked.

Arrows of Anemo. Spear of Geo. Sword of Electro. Wave of Hydro. Claymore of Pyro. Wave of Cryo.

You can't even scream. Boiling water burned your tongue and throat.

You were tried and wished for one thing.

To finally be safe.

The moment, before you were hit, the portal appeared under your legs.

___________________________

It was nighttime.

All of them gather in the living room.

Another day of fruitless search.

And no trace of you.

Suddenly, they heard a noise from the outside. The empty barn was shaking. The wight light was visible through the cracks in the old wood.

Everyone hurried here.

Tetchou got here first and opened the door.

Light faded.

You were there

You were laying on the floor.

Tortured. Branded.

And alive.

Chaos started. No one can stay silent even for a second.

Yosano got near you in a second. Not only because she ran towards you. Tachihara and Akutagawa literally carried her to you. Yosano used her ability without second thought.

Now, healed, you were still laying on the floor. From time to time, you let out a quiet sobs and 'please, I just want to go home'.

Everyone was panicking. Asking if you were alright. If you will be okay.

Fukuchi carried you home.

______

You were unconscious.

They bathed you, change your clothes and try to make you as safe as possible.

You were laying on your bed, covered in every blanket they can find. They brought even their own blankets. Somewhere in there were laying Rimbaud's coat, that he cover you with.

Your room was full of people.

BSD Cast were sitting on the floor, on the windowsill, on the edge of your bed.

Everyone was there. Even kids were allowed to stay up.

They were sitting close to each other. No one could phantom a thought of leaving you even for a second.

The night was sleepless.

_____

You thought, that you were dead in went to the afterlife.

Because, you can feel, that you were warm and laying on something soft.

You don't want to open your eyes. You wanted to stay in a warm, safe place.

More senses were back.

You heard birds singing.

And quiet sobs. Sound of steps.

And whispers.

"Myshonok, you can't leave us. Please, come back..."

"[Y/N], it's okay, take your time. You will soon be better, right? We will have fun pranking Vagabond..."

"The world without you will never be ideal... [Y/N]... Darling... Come back..."

Some voices sound closer.

"[Y/N]... Please, Birdy, woke up... My Dear, I missed you so much, please, come back!"

Someone was holding your hand, squeezing it. You feel, how, that someone's tears fall on your knuckles.

Another voice. This one touch your shoulder. The voice sounded broken.

"[Y/N], my precious Iris Flower... Wake up... I beg you..."

They also were crying...

Birdy... Iris Flower... Could it be?

You opened your eyes.

______

Two pair of eyes, one - dark brown, second - green and grayish came into your line of sigh.

Dazai Osamu and Nikolai Gogol.

Were you seeing things? Or you really were back.

You manage to whisper. You feel, that your tongue and throat weren't burned anymore.

"K-Kolya? Osamu?"

You looked around. Your friends were here.

"G-guys... E-Everyone..."

Before you can finish, you were swarmed by your friends.

Everyone tried to see you, to touch you. Kyuusaku, who manage to get to the front, climbed on your bed and hugged you.

"I knew it! I knew that you will be back! That you will return. B-because I told them all... that you will come back... you will certainly come back" Kyuusaku sobbed. Suddenly, they looked angry. "Where were you?! We were waiting for you... Searching for you... but you... completely, completely disappeared!"

You bit your lip and drew blood. For one moment, angry shouts of "SINNER" filled your ears.

Q cried again and hid their smeared face in your chest.

No. They are your friend. They won't hurt you.

You carefully hugged Q. You didn't feel any pain. You remind yourself to thank Yosano later.

"Good question, where were you, [Y/N]? Who... Hurt you?" spoke Mori. And you flinched.

One of the worst thing during The Imposter Hunt was Zhongli. More specifically, his voice, that sounds so similar to Mori's. During Nightmare-filled nights, that voice was cursing you, threaten you, promising to tear you apart.

In reality, you saw Zhongli saying that words. In your Nightmares, you saw Mori.

Zhongli made you scared of your friend!

Everyone noticed your reaction. Yosano spoke.

"[Y/N]... What happened? You were on a brick of death, when we found you..."

You still couldn't say a word. You were scared. You were terrified of returning to Teyvat.

Fukuzawa spoke next. He carefully picked up Kyuusaku and put them down on the floor. Then Fukuzawa with the same carefulness, propped you up against your pillow.

"We will discuss it later. Right now, [Y/N] need some food. Kitten, are you hungry?"

You slowly nodded. Oda, who was standing near the door, immediately left to get food from the kitchen.

The others stay in your room, looking at you.

This exact moment they made a promise to themselves.

They will destroy everything and everyone, who have hurt you.

And they will make sure, that this people will suffer.

[autismprotocol]

TMAGP Theory Board ( EP 10)

Hi guys sorry for the late post I ended up drawing a lot for this update especially because it's the last one before the hiatus so wanted to give it a little more pizazz :D

What Happened in Episode 10: Saturday Night

Interview with Nigel Dickerson. The inccident report this week was all about Mr Bonzo. If you remember from last episode Nigel is the famous tv personality who created the character of Mr Bonzo. During this interview he recounts the rise and fall of Bonzo while being ominous and on edge the whole time. what I gathered from the interveiw is that Bonzo is either trapping Nigel or Bonzo and Nigel are linked somehow. (when he say "he won't let me leave" and refers to himself as "us") we also learn about the murders that are connected to the Bonzo suit, first by the serial killer Terrance Menki and very recently 3 unsolved murders. Nigel also mentioned that the actors who wore the Bonzo suit would be prone to injuries on set which is also really stange. Could be they were used as Bonzo's victims near his begining

Gwen meets Mr Bonzo. The other section of the episode dealing with Bonzo is when Gwen goes to Nigel's house on her first assignment as the Externals Liason. So turns out Bonzo is maybe a hitman for the OIAR! Also, big thing Mr Bonzo is atually alive and is introduced with some kind of practice almost resembling a ritual. I heard somone mention they think Bonzo is an avatar of the Stranger and I can definitely see this. I'd love to hear if anyone else has a theory for what entity Bonzo may be connected to.

The Return of Colin. Colin isn't dead!! Shocking absolutley everyone Colin is still kicking. a few episodes ago he was sent on mental health leave by Lena after his parnoia caused him to mentally snap. Celia sees him while on break and they have a short convorsation. Colin tells Celia that he need to figure out the computers. also big thing Colin is back without the permission of Lena. It will be interesting to see what hes looking for and if he'll continue to sneak behind Lena's back.

Sam and Alice's Adventures into the Institute. Probaly the biggest development lore-wise was Sams and Alice investigating the ruins of the Magnus Institute. They don't find much (but I'm still am gonna talk about it for awhile) Alice mentions that there were weird carvings in the floor which she later equates to the worms on the ground. If you are a Archives listener hearing about worms in the archives starts seting off all kinds of alarms. This means in this universe the Jane Prentiss attack still happens, which is especcially iteresting because If I'm not mistaken in TMA the worm attack happened spesiffically to mark Jon with the corruption. Was Jon ever part of the institute? or if not Jon there must have been an archivist role in this Magnus Institute that would require Jane to attack it.

ERROR and the Tape Recorders so far in protocol we have been listening to the characters through either the computers or though their phones. But during the last few minutes we here the click of a tape recorder. and TMA fans around the world rejoiced. The magnus archives is entirley told through tape recordings and are a tool used by the web (spesifically the avatar Annabelle Cane) does this mean Annabelle made it to this universe? or it could also signal the presense of Jon (since the tape recorders are linked to him) Alice and Sam investigate the archivist office looking for a place for the key when the floor collapes and Sam drops the key. After some Sam and Alice banter, they leave but the recorder stays running we then hear the scraping sound and some shutterd breathing. This is when I highly suggest going through the transcript after listening to an episode becuase they specifically what were hearing and who is breathing.

I included the snippet from the transcript that pinpoints every not verbal sound we hear

water from the pit under the archives is disturbed

thud on wood then a rattle of a padlock

Key being dragged across the wood then fumbled into a lock that clicks open

trapdoor opens and ERROR imerges

ERROR takes 3 breaths

ERROR has been used before for redacting the roles played by Johnny, Alex and Tim (aka the voices of FR3-d1) during the cast anouncements for protocol. This makes me think that ERROR must be someone from the Archives universe my running theory is that it is a entity that houses Jon, Martin and Jonah's souls or consiounous. but It could literally be anyone. I'm also thinking ERROR has been locked in the tunnels under the archives (Mentioned in TMA)

And thats about Everything! plese let me know your thoughts or if you wanna correct me on any mistakes :)

Also I would love to know if you guys would prefer this style of post where I illustrate moments and scenes from each episode? it would probably delay when I'm able to post the breakdowns but I'd love to know if you guys perfer that format over the less illustrated one.

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon I - Ensnared.

Summary:

The Greens have repudiated the sucession and ursurped the Iron Throne. After encounting her uncle Aemond at Storms End, he kindaps Vaelys and takes her too Kings Landing - to be used as leverage against her mother.

Whilst the Greens delight in their good fortune, they fail to realise the depths of Aemond's growing feelings for Vaelys and how her presence will ultimately change the outcome of the Dance of Dragons.

Warning(s): Kidnapping, Language, Threats, Angst, Uncle/Niece Incest, Witnessed Consummation, Smut – Fingering, P in V.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 4280

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill her-how could you be so foolish” snapped Alicent.

"You only lost one eye-how could you be so blind?"

“Her dragon attacked Vhagar-“ reasoned Aemond.

“What does it matter? We have Rhaenyra’s eldest bastard in our clutches, she could prove useful,” said Aegon shrugging.

“Once Rhaenyra discovers that we have her daughter, neither she nor Daemon will rest until Vaelys is returned to them-for all we know they could descend from the skies on their dragons at any moment” urged Alicent picking nervously at her nails.

“I doubt it-None of their dragons are a match for Vhagar“ scoffed Aemond.

“Vhagar may indeed be the largest dragon in the world but even she cannot withstand a combined attack from the dragons they have-you would do well to remember that boy” said Otto sternly.

“What do you suggest?” asked Aemond through gritted teeth.

“We have the girl-we should use her to our advantage. Rhaenyra would not dare attack Kings Landing for fear of her daughters safety” explained Otto.

“Where is my niece currently?” asked Aegon.

“She was taken to the Black Cells Your Grace-“ replied Ser Criston.

“I want her brought here at once-” ordered Aegon, the crown of the conqueror slipping down his forehead.

A small group of guards shuffled out of the throne room and returned a little while later with a thoroughly drenched and bleeding Vaelys Targaryen, her wrists bound together in chains.

"Seven above-have mercy on us" muttered Alicent.

“Welcome back to Kings Landing-“ said Aegon smirking.

“I wish I could it’s nice to be back” replied Vaelys wiping her nose on her tattered sleeve.

The sound of the chains clinking echoed around the throne room.

“My deepest sympathies on the loss of your dragon” said Aegon smugly.

“You can shove your sympathy right up your arse” sneered Vaelys.

“I don’t think your language is very ladylike”.

“Like I care what you think-“ quipped Vaelys.

“I would see you bow before your King” demanded Aegon.

"King? I see no King" snarked Vaelys as she lifted her hand to her forehead and began to look around the throne room.

"I said BOW TO YOUR KING" balled Aegon.

“I bow before no King. All I see is a drunken, usurper CUNT” snarled Vaelys spitting on the floor.

“The bastard dares speak to me in such a manner” roared Aegon.

“I will speak however I please, you will not silence me you drunken wastrel-” quipped Vaelys.

“Mayhaps I should teach the bastard some respect-”.

“-I’m more Targaryen than you will ever be” snapped Vaelys.

“The bastard thinks herself more than a King” said Aegon.

“You look down your nose at me yet you’re nothing more than a half breed. Your dragons blood diluted with that of the Hightower, your nothing but a slithering green snake masquerading as a dragon”.

“Says the strong bastard” raged Aegon.

“I’m not some strong bastard who was lucky enough to favour my mother’s colouring, I am the daughter of the rogue prince himself, Daemon Targaryen” confessed Vaelys.

“WHAT?” exclaimed Alicent.

“Oh please-like you didn’t suspect such a thing” snarked Vaelys.

“How?” asked Alicent.

“On my mother’s wedding night to Ser Laenor-she lay with Daemon” replied Vaelys.

“So, you openly admit that your mother betrayed her marriage to Ser Laenor?” asked Otto.

“Can it be considered betrayal if he gave his permission?” retorted Vaelys.

“He-what?”

“Oh, come on-you know that Laenor only sought the attention of his squires, he couldn’t consummate the marriage, especially when he’d just witnessed the brutal and unnecessary murder of his beloved Joffrey at the hands of your own sworn protector-so of course Daemon was only too happy to volunteer his services” said Vaelys glaring at Ser Criston who narrowed his eyes at her.

“-And your mother was only too happy to accept” snapped Alicent.

“Surely your aware of first night rights-“

“-And what excuse can be conjured for existence of your brothers?” asked Alicent.

“-What do you intend to do with the girl Your Grace?” asked Otto, his patience wearing thin.

“We could always offer her to any of the noble lords who bend the knee and pledge their loyalty to me” mused Aegon, ignoring the look of horror plastered across the faces of his mother and grandsire.

Aemond took a deep breath and folded his arms behind his back, his gaze never leaving his brother.

“We could even leave her chained up in the throne room and they could take turns with her. How many cocks do you think she could she take before she breaks?” said Aegon.

“Your Grace-she is still a Princess of the realm” warned Otto.

“Wed her to me” offered Aemond.

“-And why would I allow such a thing to take place?” asked Aegon.

“I brought her here. She belongs to me-” replied Aemond.

“-And that’s enough of a reason?”

“If not, then mayhaps the prevention of her marriage to Cregan Stark is” said Aemond firmly.

“Stark?” asked Otto.

“Borros Baratheon inquired about her hand in marriage-he seemed interested in taking her to wife, boldly declaring that she would give him many sons, but she refused. It seems her bastard brother has flown to Winterfell and delivered terms in exchange for his support” said Aemond.

“We cannot allow such a match-if Stark honours his father’s oath and bends the knee the rest of the North will follow, we must intervene if we are too secure-“ urged Otto.

“-There isn’t a Stark alive that’s ever broken an oath-you’ve already lost the North and my grandmother was an Arryn, the Eyrie won’t turn against their kin-” said Vaelys smirking.

“-But we still have you” declared Aegon boldly.

“Your Grace-“ questioned Otto.

“-As you were saying brother-you believe that she belongs to you?” mused Aegon.

“There is a debt to be paid and I will take her as payment for the eye her bastard brother carved from my skull”.

“Her maiden head in exchange for your eye? Assuming of course that she is still a maid, after all she is the daughter of a whore” quipped Aegon smirking.

"The only whore I see is YOU" yelled Vaelys.

"Hold your tongue-or I will have it removed" snarled Aegon.

Vaelys was about to answer back, but then she caught Aemond's eye, and he discreetly shook his head.

Deciding it was better to keep quiet, Vaelys lowered her gaze to the floor.

“I will have her as my wife and I will take what is mine” said Aemond, his voice firm and unwavering.

“And when her maidens blood stains your cock. What then?” asked Aegon.

“She will still have her uses” replied Aemond firmly.

“Very well brother. You may take her to wife” said Aegon smirking at the look on Vaelys’ face.

“Your Grace, Aemond has already agreed to marry one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters, he pledged his support to you based on that promise” urged Alicent.

“Offer Daeron’s hand instead. I don’t really think it matters which Prince marries his daughter” replied Aegon shrugging.

“But Your Grace-“ said Alicent.

“-My brother’s debt will be paid” said Aegon firmly.

Just as Alicent was about to respond, her father shook his head and she sighed despondently, Aegon had clearly made his mind up and now her favoured son would be stuck with a bastard for a bride instead of someone more worthy of his station.

“If some of the lords who have declared for Rhaenyra see that her daughter is wed to Aemond, we may be able to sway them to our side” said Otto thoughtfully.

“Exactly-now take your bastard Aemond and see that she is made presentable-you will wed on the morrow, mother will make the arrangements” ordered Aegon.

“Your Grace” muttered Alicent through gritted teeth.

“YOU-“ snapped Vaelys taking a step forward only to be stopped by Aemond.

“Ser Arryk-Escort my betrothed to her temporary chambers, ensure that she is bathed, and that cut is taken care of” said Aemond sternly.

“Yes, my Prince” replied Ser Arryk.

“You may also want to have the chains removed as well?” suggested Otto.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond.

“Cunt” snapped Vaelys.

“Careful niece-come tomorrow, my brother will have other uses for that mouth of yours” said Aegon smirking.

“Then he will find himself without his cock” replied Vaelys as Ser Arryk lead her out of the throne room.

After she had been thoroughly bathed, Vaelys was sat on a chair under the watchful eye of Ser Arryk waiting for Maester Orwyle to arrive.

“Do you not wish to enquire about the wellbeing of your brother?” asked Vaelys as she watched the maids busying themselves with tidying up.

“I’m sure my brother is fine” muttered Arryk solemnly, his eyes fixed upon the door.

“You know it amazes me how different twins can be. I mean there’s Erryk who is loyal, and then there’s you-“ said Vaelys.

“-My brother is a traitor” said Arryk.

“Your brother swore towards the rightful Queen-he is a man of honour, unlike some I could mention” said Vaelys, a soft knock at the door diverting her attention away from her guard.

“Prince Aemond” said Arryk bowing slightly.

“You can wait outside-“

Ser Arryk nodded his head slightly and then shuffled out of the room, only to come to a standstill just beyond the threshold of the door.

“He is to be your personal guard-he will remain stationed outside, so before you get any ideas, remember he’s there” said Aemond as he waved his hand, and a nervous looking maid placed a stool in front of Vaelys.

“What are you doing?”

“The cut needs stitching, I’ve stitched plenty of my own wounds before, or would you rather have the Maester do it, after all he did such a wonderful job on my eye” said Aemond.

“I thought it was Maester Selkin who stitched your eye?“ asked Vaelys.

“On Driftmark-but I’ve had other procedures since then” replied Aemond.

“Other procedures?”

“Removal of my eyelids” said Aemond as he threaded the needle and raised his hand to Vaelys who flinched away nervously.

“I-I-“ stuttered Vaelys.

“If I was going to hurt you, then I would have done it before I brought you to Kings Landing”.

“But you did hurt me-you killed my dragon” whispered Vaelys softly as she leaned forward an allowed Aemond to begin stitching the cut above her eye.

“I’m sorry about Archonei-” whispered Aemond.

“-Don’t say her name” snapped Vaelys.

“It was not my intent to kill her”.

“You chased after us on that old bitch dragon of yours, what did you think was going to happen?” quipped Vaelys, grimacing as Aemond pulled the thread through her skin.

“Vhagar was defending me after your dragon attacked her”.

“Archonei was frightened, she was much smaller than Vhagar, how would you feel having that thing chasing after you” said Vaelys.

“If you didn’t insult me in the first place then I wouldn’t have chased after you”.

“I heard you-shouting your commands, but she wouldn’t listen. Does your King know that you can’t control your dragon?” asked Vaelys flinching again as the needle pierced her skin.

“It was a momentary lapse in-“

“-Your mouldy rock is obviously getting senile in her old age” retorted Vaelys.

Aemond paused for a moment, debating with himself on whether or not he would engage Vaelys in the argument she was intent on starting, but after a few moments he decided against it.

“We are to marry on the morrow-I suggest you rest well” muttered Aemond as he tied the thread and snipped it.

“If you think that I’d willingly marry you dragon slayer, then your even stupider than you look”.

“The alternative is much worse-“ muttered Aemond raising from the stool.

Vaelys looked at Aemond and took a deep breath, she knew Aegon’s threat of offering her to any Lords who bent the knee was not an empty one and despite her anger towards Aemond for what he had done, he was clearly the lesser of two evils.

She would rather be his wife, than suffer the alternative. Her fathers words echoed in her mind ‘Seize your opportunity and do what you must in order to survive’.

“Fine. I will marry you” snapped Vaelys.

“Get some rest Princess. Tomorrow you will be my wife” replied Aemond as he turned on his heel and left the room.

Aemond was stood beside the high septon. He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Vaelys took Aegon’s arm.

“You look beautiful. Green suits you” said Aegon smugly.

“Eat shit-” muttered Vaelys.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Your Grace. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Vaelys undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Aegon who nodded respectfully to the Septon and took his seat next to Alicent and Helaena.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Vaelys’ shoulders.

Aemond then took Vaelys’ hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Vaelys, her lip wobbling slightly.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaelys’ lips.

“ñuhon” whispered Aemond as he pulled away (Mine).

The celebration after their wedding was in full swing, how Alicent had managed to pull this off in the limited time she had, Vaelys didn’t want to know.

King Aegon was sat at the head of the table, with a smiling Alicent and Otto by his side.

Vaelys sat next to Aemond near the head of the table, plastering on a smile as Lords and ladies loyal to Aegon came up to wish them well. Tyland Lannister, and one that seemed to linger, Jasper Wylde.

"Many good wishes too you Prince Aemond and Princess Vaelys. A match many shall pray for a fruitful outcome. I must admit Princess, the tales of your great beauty have not been exaggerated".

Vaelys shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Aemond scowled.

"Thank you," nodded Vaelys politely. 

All through the feast and dancing, Vaelys couldn’t help but think about her mother.

Did her mother know that she was in Kings Landing? Or had the broken pieces of Archonei been discovered and it was assumed that she had died alongside her dragon?

Her mother was still recovering from the pain and loss of her last pregnancy when she had agreed to let Vaelys fly to Storms End, how cruel would it be to let a mother already grieving for the loss of one daughter, believe her other was also dead.

“Valzȳrys” muttered Vaelys (Husband).

“Is everything ok?” asked Aemond.

“Issa muñā, does she know that I’m here?” (My mother).

“I don’t know-I’ll asked my grandsire” replied Aemond as he rose from his seat and made his way towards his grandsire who was in conversation with Larys Strong.

“Does Rhaenyra know that her daughter is here?” asked Aemond.

“The Princess has not yet been informed of-“ said Otto.

“-She’ll know when she receives the sheets stained with her daughter’s maiden’s blood” interrupted Aegon.

“Perhaps a letter would be sufficient-” mused Aemond.

“No-our whore sister will be sent proof that her daughter has been wedded and bedded. Speaking of which I must inform you brother that the consummation will need to be witnessed, given our older sisters past behaviours”.

“Your Grace-“ exclaimed Aemond.

“We cannot have Rhaenyra contesting the marriage-“ urged Larys.

“Lord Strong is right-“ said Otto.

As much as he could try an argue against it, Aemond knew couldn’t. Rhaenyra would indeed challenge the validity of her daughters marriage, and the witnesses were a preventative measure.

“I request the minimum number of witnesses and sheer curtains-“

“Arrangements will be made,” said Otto.

“Your no fun” muttered Aegon tipping a large gulp of wine.

“I do not wish for my wife to be displayed in such a manner” snapped Aemond.

“Careful brother-anyone would think that you care for the bastard” snarked Aegon.

“She is my wife-“ said Aemond.

“-And that little crush of yours has nothing to do with it?”

“I don’t know what your talking about” snarled Aemond.

“I saw that cuntstruck look on your face when our sister brought her brood of bastards to the Red Keep defending Jace’s claim to Driftmark-Couldn’t keep your eye off our niece, although I must say I don’t blame you. She has grown rather beautiful. Perhaps I’ll take a leaf out of our uncles book and insist on first night rights” said Aegon.

“You have no right” replied Aemond, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I am the King-I have every right, but what sort of brother would I be if I deprived you of the chance to deflower a maid-it’s not as if the last woman you bedded was one” laughed Aegon.

“Don’t ever mention that again” ordered Aemond as he turned on his heel and returned to Vaelys who was now huddled with Helaena.

“I couldn’t talk him out of it-” said Aemond.

“At least you tried” muttered Vaelys, her shoulders slumping.

“Come good sister-I shall escort you to your new chambers” whispered Helaena.

“I’ll distract Aegon and the others” muttered Aemond.

“I know it might not make sense, but it was necessary for Aemond to bring you here”.

“I’m sure it was-“ muttered Vaelys as she watched Aemond bump into his brother, causing the cup of wine he was holding to spill all over the floor.

“You will see in time, and don’t worry you will fly again,” said Helaena.

“I will?” asked Vaelys as she followed Helaena out of the throne room.

“A dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free,” said Helaena.

“What?” exclaimed Vaelys.

“A dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free,” repeated Helaena as she came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

“These are not my chambers” mused Vaelys.

“No-there Aemonds. You are to share, it’s important” muttered Helaena as she pushed open the door, took Vaelys by the hand and pulled her inside.

“I’m scared” whimpered Vaelys.

“Aemond will take care of you-he’s not the monster you think he is,” said Helaena.

“He brought me here”.

“I was necessary-a dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free. The dragons begin to dance, blood will be shed, begins when two are wed,” said Helaena.

“You keep saying that but-“ uttered Vaelys as the door swung open and Aemond walked in, closely followed by Aegon, Otto, Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister and Maester Orwyle.

“It’s time-“ declared Aegon brightly.

“Will you stay?” asked Vaelys.

“Yes” replied Helaena softly as she stood next to Aegon who huffed impatiently at Aemond who was stood silently observing Vaelys.

“Would you help me with the gown, husband?” asked Vaelys as she turned from him and swept her hair away from her back to reveal a great number of fiddly buttons and laces.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he reached forward and began undoing his wife’s wedding gown.

Soon she was stood in nothing but a thin shift and Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest at the sight of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

He was no maid, Aegon had seen to that when he’d dragged him to the street of silk on his thirteenth name day. But Vaelys was no paid whore, that would whisper sweet lies into his ear and make him feel dirty.

She was his wife, and he would treat her as such.

Aemond began pulling off his own clothes as Vaelys climbed into the bed. Her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced nervously at the witnesses who were silent.

“Focus on me. Not them” said Aemond as he finished undressing himself and climbed into the bed.

Vaelys nodded nervously as Otto moved forward and closed the sheer curtains, they didn’t provide much privacy, but it was better than nothing.

“I-I’m ready husband” whispered Vaelys as she pulled off her shift and discarded it on the floor.

Vaelys laid down and smiled shyly as Aemond gazed at her naked body.

“Gevie” whispered Aemond as he slowly reached out and ran his fingers over Vaelys’ breasts (Beautiful).

Goosebumps erupted over Vaelys’ skin as Aemonds hand began to move lower.

“I-I need to prepare you” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Vaelys.

“I don’t want to hurt you” replied Aemond.

Vaelys gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“Aemond” exclaimed Vaelys as her husband slipped a finger inside her.

Aemond buried his face in his wife’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger to prepare her as best, he could.

But in the back of his mind, he was still aware of the witnesses standing at the foot of the bed.

“Come on. Get on with it” groused Aegon.

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

Vaelys shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

“Listen to her whimpering, who would have thought a whore’s daughter would be so cock shy” laughed Aegon.

“Don’t listen to them-I won’t let them see you” muttered Aemond softly.

Vaelys couldn’t stifle the whimper of pain as she felt Aemond’s cock press further into her.

“That’s it Aemond fuck her harder” exclaimed Aegon gleefully.

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

Vaelys’ cunny choked his cock so tight that he needed a few seconds to adjust, making him terribly aware that he was not going to last for too long.

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

“The pain will ease,” rasped Aemond, waiting for his wife to adjust.

After a few moments, Vaelys nodded slowly her hands grasping the white sheets tightly as Aemond pulled back and thrust forward again.

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

“Your perfect-“ whispered Aemond.

Feeling a spark of pleasure Vaelys let go of the sheets and slowly placed her hands on Aemond’s back, holding him close as his movements become more erratic.

Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time and groaned loudly as his cock throbbed and he spilled his seed.

“A-Are you ok?”  Aemond as he gently pulled his softened cock from his wife.

Vaelys nodded, her fingers digging into the fabric of the bed.

Aemond pulled the bedcovers over Vaelys and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his eye drawn to the red ring of Vaera’s maidens blood that now stained his cock.

“Are you well Princess. Do you need me to examine you?” asked Maester Orwyle.

“No, I’m-“ muttered Vaelys.

“-The marriage has been consummated. Get out” snapped Aemond.

“The sheets brother” said Aegon.

Aemond slowly ran a hand over his face before he jumped off the bed, his eye moving to Vaelys who clutched the bedcovers too her chest and slowly lifted her body from the bed allowing him to pull the sheet from under her.

“There-“ snarled Aemond as he threw the sheet towards Aegon.

“I see she was a maid after all” quipped Aegon as he examined the blood stained sheet.

“This will do nicely, I’ll make sure to send it to our sister on the morrow, confirming that her precious heir has been wedded and bedded” Aegon as he quickly rolled up the bloodstained sheet.

“You’ve got what you wanted now get out” retorted Aemond.

There was a brief shuffling off feet, before the door to their chambers opened and closed, leaving the two of them alone.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond as he climbed back into the bed.

“I’m fine” whispered Vaelys.

“We should get some sleep-it’s been a long day” said Aemond as he laid down,

“W-Will you hold me. Please?” asked Vaelys her voice small and barely audible, the tears running down her face.

Aemond slowly nodded and reached towards Vaelys pulling her trembling body against his.

It took far longer than Aemond would have liked for his wife’s trembling to cease, but eventually she fell asleep with her face pressed against his chest.

After discarding his eyepatch on the nightstand, Aemond gazed at Vaelys for seemed like hours.

He could still see the faint tracks of dried tears on her face, and with a shaking hand he reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

“I’m sorry” whispered Aemond as he pulled her closer and closed his eye.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Flashbacks of assault, thoughts of helplessness, blood, depression and suicidal thoughts.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Thank you all for the love, the last chapter was a heavy one, and just wanted to reiterate that you should be kind to yourself. I think there is a union of therapists ready to barge down my door and beat me to a pulp at this point. A longer chapter because I really didn't want to split it up. <3

Chapter 75: Blood Spilt

The sun rose and fell twice, the moon chasing after them. A never ending cycle of the lover who longed for its other half, never truly being able to reach them.

Destined to seek out the unattainable forever more. Until that time when all things stop, and the stars collide.

And all things that were, were now gone. 

Then, and only then, could the moon go to the sun and become one.

You did not move from your position on your side on the bed, nor did you sleep, nor eat, nor bathe. 

You simply were not there. 

Your body perhaps, but your mind? It had gone with the wind, gentle ashes floating away, and a quiet hopefulness that it would return.

It was an interesting thing, to not feel. 

The only constant was your head on the pillow, and your body on its side.

The cold numbness continued to curl its tight hands around you, holding you down beneath the depths that continued to drag you deeper, and deeper, down under its smothering darkness, until you came to rest along its oceans bed. 

And so you laid there, not feeling, not moving, not being.

Just there.

The maids had been frantic when they discovered you that morning, desperately trying to pull you from the bed, yet each time their hands had touched you, you would shake amongst the sheets and whimper. 

They were at a loss of what to do, and so in their desperation, sought out assistance where they could. 

Alicent Hightower had entered the chambers with an annoyed air around her, expecting to see the room in a disarray, wine and food thrown to the ground in a heated tantrum. The maids only words to her was that the Princess was unwell. 

She had expected to see you screaming, eyes ablaze looking every inch your mothers fury, cursing and threatening each and every one of them as she or the Rogue Prince would have done, their fire coursing through your veins. But when the older woman entered through the large doors, Aemond’s two maids were nervously wringing their hands as they looked to the bed, where a mound sat atop the sheets.

Alicent had not expected to see you, curled in a ball, unmoving, unblinking, and covered in blood. She had moved swiftly across the chambers, fear rising in her throat at the thought of you being dead. 

What had happened?

Who had done this?

What would happen when Rhaenyra got word?

But Alicent knew what would happen. The treaty would end, and the Seven Hells would rain upon them all. Daemon would leave not one person or being alive in King’s Landing, or any lands that sided with the Hightower's.

With swift steps, Alicent came to your side dread racing through her body, images of dragons and fire fleeting through her mind. She saw the blood, she saw the bruises, and then she saw your face. The Dowager Queen sighed a breath of relief, seeing your chest rise and fall and eyes twitch. 

You were alive. 

She thanked the Seven.

Alicent's gaze swept over your body, taking in the bruises upon your throat and arms, large imprints of fingers purpling across the flesh, and then back down to the blood upon your chemise and the bed below you. 

Bile rose in the Dowager Queen’s throat. 

What had he done?

What had he done?

She knew it had been her son. She knew the way a mother knows her children intimately, instinctually, almost like a second sight. Anger rose to replace her fear.

Did he wish to have them all killed?

“What has happened?” She hissed at the maids, who shifted on their feet as they looked at you.

Alicent reared back away from you and stormed out of the chambers, fingers finding each other in her hands as she moved through the corridors to fetch the Maester. Her nails picked and pulled at the skin on her fingertips, ripping it away from the nail, blood rising to the surface.

When the Dowager Queen found the old man, he had been bent over a tome in his chambers, reading and writing upon parchment with his quill. He turned to look at the Queen, and she had commanded him to bring Moon Tea to the Princesses chambers immediately.

Without another word she left.

You were where she had last seen you, still on your side, staring at the wall in front of you. The maids had laid a thick blanket over you, tucking it up to your shoulders, and watched from beside the bed anxiously. They whispered to each other lowly on what they should do.

When the Dowager Queen had entered, the girls had snapped their heads, quietened, and not relaxed upon seeing her. 

The Maester brought the tea, and Alicent commanded the two maids to sit you up so that you may drink it. Amala and Joanna had moved to your side slowly, whispering to you that it was them, that they were going to touch you. That they needed to sit you up, but all that you did was blink, and let them move you.

As the girls pulled you up, dull pain rocked through your body, and a lone tear fell down your cheek. 

Why Gods, Why?

You continued to stare into nothing as they held you upright by your shoulders, and the world came back around you. You crashed down to earth, plummeting into the circumstances you so desperately wished to escape.

A tide of grief washed over you with the pain that returned to your body. Tears fell down your cheeks and neck in fat drops as you blinked, breathing becoming jagged.

The grunts of Aegon echoed in your mind.

A blur of green caught your eye and you flinched, shoulders rising as you turned your head. Alicent had moved to come closer, her auburn brows drawn tightly on her face. 

She looked horrified. 

She looked sad.

She looked remorseful.

Rhaenyra's childhood companion came closer, arm stretched out as she moved to comfort you, hand hovering just out of reach of your shoulder. 

You looked so much like your mother.

She wished to try and soothe you. 

Because despite her reservations about you, despite the hatred of your family, despite her loyalty to her son, despite the war, and your hand in her youngest sons death, she still felt the pull of her heart, that this was not right. That no one deserved such a thing to happen to them. That even you had not deserved such a thing. That women and girls should never experience such a horror. 

For all of her faults, Alicent could see that this was wrong. That it was a crime. An act of depravity.

A sin.

She prayed in her head to the Mother and Crone for guidance. She prayed for strength, for healing, for wellbeing. She prayed that the force of the Blacks would not come to call.

But as her hand came to touch your shoulder, fear and nausea rippled through you, you had jerked away from her, and screamed. 

“Get away from me!”

“Please Princess, you must drink the tea.” She had said quietly, the Maester beside you looking with clinical eyes, the colour from them seemingly gone, and nothing but a blank mask upon his face. 

You sobbed and wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers pressing into the bruised flesh to ground yourself as he stepped forward, tea in hand.

The maids came to stand on the other side of you for support, and your shoulders relaxed, their presence soothing you, even if only slightly. 

The tea had been pressed to your lips, and you drank roughly as you continued to cry. Your throat felt raw as you swallowed, as though it was cut apart from the inside.

The familiar tart, minty tea coated your mouth as it moved down into your empty stomach. You could not stop the tide that overflowed as you finished the brew, your sobs filling the air as the pressure on your core caused pain to ebb up your abdomen. 

Please Gods, bring him back to me.

Please, do not let me suffer this pain any longer.

The maids had stayed at your side as the Maester left, empty cup in his hands. Alicent had stopped him on his way out and commanded him, “Not a word to anyone of this.” The old man had bowed his head, and uttered a quiet, “Your Grace” in acquiescence. 

The Lady Hightower stood at the doors of the chambers, unsure of what to do, watching as you cried and let the two maids put their small hands on your shoulders as you sobbed forward on the edge of the bed. 

She was at a loss.

Alicent’s own daughter had shied away from her touch, and now you, a young woman with nothing, had too. Alicent left the chambers with a bitter taste on her tongue, and an anger that burned towards her eldest son.

As the door had shut closed behind her, you gasped, your chest feeling tight and raw, body aching and throat throbbing. The maids had stood on the side of the bed, cooing you, stroking your shoulders which brought you tiny comfort.

Have I not given enough?

What did I do, Gods?

You let the maids see you as you were.

Broken. 

As the night slowly crept upon you, and you had barely moved from your place on the bed. Amala and Joanna had laid you down in the sheets after your refusal to bathe, and promised to stay in the chambers with you, one sitting on the chaise, the other on Aemond’s arm chair as they tried to get you to sleep. 

They stayed awake the entire evening.

But sleep evaded you, no matter how exhausted you were, you would fall beneath a shallow surface of sleep and rise back to the top as if drowning, the feeling of Aegon upon you and his voice in your head preventing you from rest.

Helaena and Lucerys stood beside the fire, in the foreground with the two maids as you looked at them, the chambers darkening.

And in the space where you could scarcely sleep and only think, you came to a horrifying realisation that you did not feel safe in your chambers without him.

You did not feel safe without Aemond. 

“Aemond.”

-

What little sleep you managed to get was disturbed by the whispers of the maids in the early morning. Amala left the chambers first, leaving you with Joanna, who promised not to leave you alone, your heart beating painfully in your chest.

When Amala returned, she told you that she had called for a bath to be brought to the chambers, and that they would need to bathe you. Anxiety at the thought of being touched again moved through you, and tears welled in your eyes.

“Fuck, your little cunt is so tight for me. Are you sure you’re not a maiden? You’re bleeding on my cock like one.” He huffed, continuing to slowly push himself back inside of you, each and every inch of his cock sending agony racing up and down your spine as your legs were forced open beneath him.

You blinked rapidly, and a broken sob past through your dry and crackled lips. Joanna came to your side and helped you sit up, she wrapped the large blanket around your shoulders, covering every inch of your body except of your head and told you to take deep breaths as she held you. 

You breathed with her, hiccuping as other maids entered the chambers, head down, carrying the large bath and buckets of steaming hot water. You felt yourself slipping back into that comfortable numbness as you stared at the buckets be poured into the tub.

How much more were you expected to take?

You knew that you could not.

You would not.

You could not do it.

Not for yourself.

Not for your mother.

Not for your father.

Not for your brothers, or sisters.

The ask was too much, the stakes were too high. 

The pain was too much to bear.

When the last of the maids had left the room, and you were left with your own, Joanna helped you to stand, brittleness from exhaustion whittling in your bones as you took shaky steps across the cold stone floors towards the bath. 

You shivered as you stood in front of it, knuckles white as you gripped the blanket, before you took a steeling breath and dropped it to the floor. You lifted your arms, ignoring the pain that sparked through them and your core as you pulled your soiled chemise off of your body. 

The maids had stood, ready to catch you, ready for anything, by the side of the tub as you stepped one foot in, and then the other. The water steamed thickly into the air, and its heat stung your skin. But you relished in the pain within your control and concentrated on it. 

Sinking into its heat, you sat, knees against your chest as you kept your eyes on the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance atop the logs that they consumed. Lucerys and Helaena stood beside it, watching you quietly. Their presence mere shadows in your periphery.

“Don’t cry,” The King cooed, thrusting harder into you, “It is an honour to have my seed inside of you.”

A warm trail of tears dripped from your cheeks and down into the milky water of your bath.

Endure.

Endure.

Endure.

The rattling of the doors caused your heart to leap into your throat as your head snapped behind you, arms flying out to grasp the edge of the tub.

Leather riding gear, a mess of long silver hair, and a singular violet eye that widened at your appearance stood by the doors. His chest rose as fell, and sweat dotted his brow as he stood rooted to the ground beside the door.

He had been running.

Aemond was back. 

“Kepus.” The sob fell from your lips, and he sped to your side, dropping to his knees as he looked over you, hands coming out to hold your cheeks.

You flinched at his hands as they came to touch you, and another sob broke free, yet you let him hold you. You let him touch your cheeks as he looked you over, eyes pausing on the dark bruises around your neck. 

His gaze darkened and the grip on your cheeks tightened.

Tears continued to fall into the water.

“You left me with him.” You cried, watching as Aemond’s face morphed into knowing, horror, disgust and then rage. All flickering through his eye.

“You knew what he would do. You know what he does.” You continued, hands wrapping around yourself as the maids left the chambers, closing the door behind you.

Aemond’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he held your cheeks, nose flaring, and lips twitching as you cried brokenly in his hold.

Broken.

“You let him. He was inside me.” You hissed, anger bubbling up through you.

“Where were you? Where were you? Where were you?” You voice crackled and broke, pain overtaking your senses. 

You had no-one else to confide in. 

No-one else in the Gods forsaken Keep, but your Kinslaying uncle.

Aemond's thumbs brushed against your cheeks, wiping the tears that fell away. But the movement was stiff, and his presses too rough, as though he was barely keeping his composure. As though he was ready to launch himself from beside the tub. As if he was fighting flames that licked at him hotly.

“You left me, Aem.” You hiccuped, one hand coming to hold onto his wrist, using every ounce of strength that you had, “Why did you leave me?”

“Zaldristos.”

Nausea curled inside of you as he whispered, hands still rubbing unsoothing swipes into your cheeks. Stiff swipes of a repetitive nature, an autopilot as his brow continued to furrow as he looked at you.

“He was inside me, and you were gone with your whore.” You spat, fire crackling higher within you, “You left me with him whilst you went back to your Alys.”

Aemond swallowed thickly as he looked at you, hands stilling on your cheeks. Your chest heaved as you cried, angry and horrified tears that fell from your cheeks.

"Dracarys.”

“Pretty petals.”

“A crown for-“

“Shut. Up.” You growled at the fireplace, your shoulders shaking.

“Y/n…I came back for you.” Aemond uttered.

“You’re too late. What's done is done. Aegon has had me.”

Silence curled around the both of you, and you turned your head, shaking Aemond’s hands from your face as you looked into the flames. 

He did this.

He left you.

He left you with him, for her.

He let Aegon have you.

He d-

“Ābrazȳrys, ivestragī nyke dohaeragon ao.” Wife, let me help you, Aemond cooed.

Another tear slid down your cheek as you dug your fingers into the bruises of your arms. In your periphery you saw Aemond pick up the wash cloth from the edge of the tub and dip it into the water. 

With gentle fingers, he grasped your chin and turned your head back to him, your eyes glossy with tears and his eye hooded in an emotion you couldn’t pin point. He squeezed the cloth of its steaming water and brought it up to your face, pausing before he touched you, watching as your eyes flinched.

“Iksan jāre naejot rāenābagon ao.” I'm going to wash you.

You let out a shuddering breath. 

The One-Eyed Prince moved with a gentleness you did not know he possessed. He wiped the tracks of tears away with the damp cloth first, before washing the rest of your face with a patience he had not shown. As he moved downwards to your neck, you had whimpered, hands flying to grasp his wrists, your nails digging into him as pain bloomed where he had irritated the skin.

Your uncle had hushed you, and dipped the cloth back into the water before coming back up, not squeezing the water from it, and instead resting the cloth against your chin and squeezing there, letting the water run down your neck in a way of contactless cleansing.

It was thoughtful.

It was caring.

It was-

You continued to cry as he hushed and cooed you, cleaning every inch of your body slowly and gently, taking his time, his singular eye looking to yours for consent before he moved to the next part of your body. 

It had broken you further. 

It had crumbled your heart.

The kindness.

The gentleness.

It was all too much, and so you sobbed loudly in the chambers as he continued, focused on getting you clean and washing his brother from your body.

You had noticed, that with every dip of the cloth back into the bath, and back up to your arms, that his hands shook, and the skin of his knuckles were white as he gripped the cloth with all his might.

He was grounding himself too.

Collecting a small bowl from beside the tub, he dipped it into the water and began to wet your hair, washing it gently, and scrubbing cautious hands through the strands, untangling them with his fingers as he went.

It was so quiet in the chambers.

Aemond was silent as he washed you, and did not comment about how you flinched at times, or sobbed louder. He only stayed patient and slow as you allowed him to bathe you. As you allowed him to care for you.

As you allowed him to offer this small piece of comfort to you.

When Aemond had reached to clean between your thighs, he had stopped himself, and his palm had opened, turning upwards, revealing the soaked cloth to your eyes.

He was offering you the cloth to do it yourself.

And yet in that moment, you couldn’t bare to bring yourself to touch yourself with your own hands. You had sucked in a sharp breath, and Aemond had waited for you to take the cloth, hand still open. 

When moments had passed, and you had not reached out for it, you listened to Aemond blow a shaky breath through his lips as he moved the cloth to your inner thighs. You had flinched when he came into contact with the tender flesh, and you had whimpered, eyes shutting tightly. Aemond paused and gave you time to adjust or tell him to stop before he began to clean the blood and seed from your thighs that had dried there. 

It stung.

It ached.

It hurt to be touched, it struck fear to be touched.

And yet when Aemond had finished, you cried in relief that it was over.

It was over.

It was over.

“It’s over.” He had murmured, placing the cloth back on the edge of the tub.

The water had begun to grow cold, and the goosebumps that spread across your skin was not just due to the cold, but from the unfurling conditions your brain was yet to wrap itself around.

Aemond stood, the leather of his riding gear creasing as he moved to collect your robe and brought it over to you. He laid it over his arm and reached to help you to stand on shaky legs, your tears having subsided and your body softly shaking.

He would see what Aegon had done.

He would see what he did to you.

He would see.

One leg after the other, you stepped out of the tub, holding your breath as Aemond slowly helped to thread your arms through the robe, careful to not touch you.

Unbeknownst to you, the maids had returned and stripped the bed of the bloodied sheets, and replaced them with fresh ones.

Aemond stood beside you, watching your face as you stared into the flames, clutching yourself for dear life. Trying to make yourself smaller, trying to hide yourself. Trying to protect yourself.

“Y/n.” Aemond whispered, and you turned to look at him.

The Prince towered over you and a shadow settled across his face, but you held no fear as you looked at him. The anger that he held, the pain that he too experienced, was not aimed at you. As you looked at the man who had become foreign to you, you did not feel fear.

Only anguish. 

His hand reached forward and touched your shoulder, and the dam inside of you broke. You stepped forward and collapsed into his chest, sobbing as his arms wrapped around you softly, pulling you against his chest as he let you cry. 

The sandalwood, leather, and the faint smell of dragon curled around you, and you breathed deeply, burying your head further into his chest. He hummed softly, and rubbed a gentle unsure hand through your hair, stilling when you stiffened. 

Leaning his head down, Aemond pressed his lips to the top of your head and breathed, inhaling your essence before he pulled backwards.

“Come.” He offered quietly, and turned to lead you towards the bed.

But fear shot through you as you looked at the bed, memories of Aegon, the sounds of his grunts, the feel of his-

You pulled away from him, eyes widened in fright and breath caught in your throat, “No. No. Please.” You cried, and Aemond stepped forward again, hushing you. 

“Shh, shh, shh. Okay. Okay. No bed. Let’s sit you down, hm?”

The One-Eyed Prince led you to the chaise, sitting you down with care and pulled a blanket to drape over you, wrapping it tightly against you.

The tide within did not settle, nor did it rise again, instead the waves crashed against you in the same familiar way they had not too long ago. When you had first returned to the Keep, with lip cut and palm bleeding. When he had made you bleed just the same.

When he-

“Why did you leave me?” You muttered.

Your question went unanswered as Aemond moved to go towards the chamber doors. Fear rose inside of you at the thought of beign left alone in the chambers again. he would come again. he could always come again. He would-

You hand struck out and you snatched his, gripping him and pulling him back.

“Stay.” You whispered.

Aemond looked to the door and back to you, jaw tightening and his lips twitching in thought. But the Prince had made up his mind, and nodded, sitting down beside you.

There was no one else you could turn to.

No one else you could confide in.

No one.

You curled your legs beneath you and shifted, resting your head in his lap. He smelt familiar. He smelt safe. He smelt like him. He didn't smell like wine, or sweat or-

Immediately, Aemond began to swipe a gentle hand through your hair as you tried to blink away your tears, and steady your breathing.

Stay.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t leave me to him.

Please.

The hands combed through your hair, the movement tugging the strands at the root in a steady rhythm that you could count out. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The longer your uncle did it, the more you sunk into the rhythym of counting and not thinking.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

The day passed, and the chambers had darkened, and all the while you kept your eyes on Aemond's face above you, who sat stiffly with your head in his lap, one hand in your hair, and the other clenched on the arm of the chaise.

His lone eye, his singular violet eye that clouded with storms, a soft lavender in spring, eyes you had loved as a child, and grew to fear as an adult, stared straight at the chamber doors.

Waiting.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[portablegoose]

Woooo so the Magnus Protocol premiered and I have things to say and things to overanalyse!

As we know, 'Chester', 'Neil' and 'Augustus' are, maybe?, Jon, Martin, and Jonah, respectively. Hence this:

And, of course, there's 'J1', 'M1' and 'J2' in the trailer.

However, I've seen confusion over the fact that the third 'Error' is voiced by Tim Fearon, who as far as I'm aware has not previously voiced any characters in the Magnus universe. Even though the name is distorted, I can make out what looks to be an H at the end of the name, so this very well may be Jonah.

My theory is this: 'Augustus' is Jonah (or just his voice). However, since the body of Elias was killed in the Panopticon, Jonah does not use Elias' voice anymore. Jon, Martin, and Jonah are all disembodied, if we are to believe they are somehow inside the computer/other technology (ie Alice/Sam's phone in the pub scene) or in some way somewhere adjacent to the world of Protocol. So it could, in a dream-logicy eldritch sense, follow that Jonah is able to survive in his own creepy old ass man way, and use his original voice. Obviously, I cannot corroborate this claim in any meaningful way. We have not heard Augustus speak yet, but I think it is a possibility nonetheless.

The fact that Augustus supposedly shows up to read cases aloud significantly less than Chester and Neil could also be a clue. Maybe Jonah is weaker than Jon and Martin due to his injuries, and is therefore unable to materialise as often as Jon and Martin. Maybe the voice that speaks the true cases (because, similarly to how true statements were identified using the tape recorder in TMA, I imagine true cases will be singled out using the text to speech system) is relevant to the case itself - ie, Jonah only speaks when a case is heavily linked to the Eye, etc.

Furthermore, there's the question of who is spying on who and when/why. By this I mean that we hear our perspective switch between devices (the phone, the computer, the security camera during Colin and Sam's interaction, etc), and I believe that this happens because one or more of the 'Errors' (as I am going to refer to them henceforth) is travelling between devices to spy on the characters' conversations. What we hear is dictated by what the Errors, characters who have prior knowledge of the Fears, deem important. This is backed up by the episode's closing scene: Colin's paranoid closing lines. It is clear that Colin believes someone is listening to them, and it is implied that he has made a connection between this and the Errors. What intrigues me is the Errors' motivation for doing this at all. If what they deem important is what we hear, and this is the first that we are hearing, then it seems to me that it is Sam's arrival that has given them cause for concern, or (in Jonah's case) hope (if he is plotting to return, or something, I don't put it past the scheming weasel). So, why are they listening? And how can we really tell if what we are hearing is the spying of Jonah, or of Jon and Martin?

Another thing. Jonny makes a point of letting us know that Alice does not think the work they do is of any significance, or is checked by anyone. She constantly mentions it in passing and is very casual in her attitude towards work. We obviously have the foresight to know this isn't true. The reason I point this out is because of what Sam does when filling out his paperwork: he ticks the 'Response' box, to which Alice responds that it doesn't matter. This could be nothing, it probably is nothing, but I feel like the fact that Sam has ticked the onboarding box of a mysterious department of an already mysertious organisation might come up later...

Yes I know I am jumping to a lot of conclusions, especially where the Errors are concerned. Please take every theory you hear, from me or anyone else, with a grain of salt, this is all speculative. From a writer's perspective, I honestly think it's pretty likely that Chester and Neil aren't actually Jon and Martin, and just their voices taken by the Web or something, but shh I can dream.

Edit: oh my god they changed his name to Norris that is even worse. Jonny and Alex were fr like 'neil is too kind, we need the name to be Chester levels of horrific'

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. Enjoy reading. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

AO3 LINK TWO

ONE

The same nightmare every night, recurring in your mind as if it were an impossible memory to forget. A large part of the Quileute tribe killed by the hands of the one you will someday love. Not that your love story with Edward Cullen was worth anything. After all, he is a vampire. You are a descendant of a lineage of shapeshifters who transform into wolves. What could go right in this story? You've been driving for about two hours to reach Forks. It's been a month since you started having nightmares involving the tribe to which you belong and your ex-boyfriend. So, you decided to return to Forks to see your friends and those who are like family to you and, if possible, stay as far away as possible from Edward Cullen.

"If you had picked up your phone, Sam, you'd know I'm almost there. But since you didn't, just know I'm entering Forks now. I'll head to La Push as soon as possible." You say, leaving a message on Sam's voicemail. He knew you'd be arriving soon but didn't know exactly when. In fact, it was his idea for you to return to Forks. As your nightmares have become more frequent, you're so sleepy that you can barely tell how you're still managing to drive.

And then, like flashbacks in your mind, your moments with Edward and the pack you were part of come to the surface. You remember how you met Edward amidst a fight between the Quileutes and the Cullen vampires. One of them had accidentally crossed the border that separated the vampires from the wolves. It was chaos. Your father, who was alive at the time, was very angry and considered killing a Cullen to show that invading Quileute territory was a bad idea. Luckily, Jacob's father was more sensible. Edward read your mind for the first time that day. He knew you were curious about what the Cullens were doing crossing the border that separated the two enemies. So later, at the border, he found you and explained. Jasper had been hunting an unknown vampire who had hurt Alice and ended up crossing over. That was the first time you wondered if a vampire was okay, and when Edward noticed your slight concern for Jasper, he believed you were different. Amidst your moment of recollection, you lose concentration. But you only realize this when your car hits someone hard. You're dazed by the impact, but as soon as you look ahead, you feel a certain relief. Edward is right in front of you, staring at you with a curious look as if he doesn't quite understand that it's really you.

"What are you doing, Cullen?" you ask in an enraged tone. Of course you're angry. He's a vampire, unscathed after the collision with your car, while your car and you have suffered some impact. I mean, you can feel blood trickling near your right eye, but the damage to your car is definitely more significant.

"It's going to sound strange. Alice had a vision that saw me doing this as soon as you arrived here. I'm not saying I did it on purpose. In fact, I am hunting. But you really are here." Edward speaks as if he still doesn't quite understand that you're actually in front of him. You take a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to kill him for what happened to your car. In reality, you're unsure whether you should get out of the car or not. You're bleeding, and that could be a challenge for Edward.

"I'm not going to attack you, don't worry. I thought you knew I would never do something like that to you. I mean…" Edward says, and you automatically get out of the car, walking toward him. Something about the proximity between you leaves both of you speechless. You always hated when Cullen listened to your thoughts, and he knows that. The courtesy of having your private thoughts respected seemed to be valid only during your relationship.

"You mean you wouldn't attack anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. I know, I know you, Edward. What surprises me is the fact that you don't seem to know me. You know I hate when you… never mind. Maybe you only respected me while we were together. Now we're strangers to each other." You say, realizing how different he seems, even though he hasn't aged a day since the last time you saw him.

"I'm still the same, Y/N. The same guy you walked away from years ago." Edward speaks softly but with a certain sadness in his words. You look at him, unsure of how to respond. Yes, you ended your brief relationship out of fear of what your father would do to him if he found out.

"Look, I didn't intend to bring the past back. I think it's better if you go your way and I go mine." You say, turning to leave and drive your somewhat damaged car. But Edward appears in front of you before you can open the door.

"Carlisle can take care of that for you. I know he'd be glad to see you again." Edward says, stepping a little closer to you. You stare at him, this time not understanding what he wants. It's obvious he's talking about the injury on your head, but you don't understand why he seems so reluctant to distance himself.

"And I should go to your father figure and ask him to help me based on what? The fact that you and I were together years ago? The fact that my tribe has no idea what happened between us? Maybe I should go ask him how he feels about seeing you about to marry a human. What do you think, Edward?" Your tone is absurdly ironic but realistic. Just the fact that you're here now with Edward could jeopardize everything. If Sam or Jacob see you here with him talking about your past relationship, it could cause a mess. Not to mention that Cullen is now committed.

"I caused this in you. Maybe you should go to Carlisle for the same reason anyone in this town would. You've had an accident, Y/N, you need to take care of this." Edward says, gently touching the area where you got hurt. You let out a soft groan of pain and then pull away.

"How do you suggest I deal with the complications that going to Carlisle would bring me?" You ask, almost grumbling. Edward smiles slightly, as if he even misses these conversations you used to have when you were together.

"Do you remember the farthest spot from here where we used to meet when we were dating? Meet Carlisle there when you can. Unfortunately, Jacob is already on his way here, and I think it's better if I'm not here when he arrives." Edward speaks, and before you can say anything in response, he's already gone.

"Your cowardice is remarkable!" You shout, hoping he hears you. As you turn around, Black is behind you. He's clearly sweaty, must have come running in his human form.

"What happened to you, Y/N?" Jacob Black asks, quickly approaching you. He must be worried because you're injured and apparently talking to yourself in the middle of the road.

"I had an accident. I hit an animal, actually. It was quite a mess. How did you know I was here?" You ask curiously as Jacob gets closer to you, analyzing and sniffing you. You wonder if you smell bad, but then remember that Edward was here just a little while ago.

"Since when did you learn to lie to me? I thought we were honest with each other." Jacob says, looking into your eyes, and you feel guilty for lying to him.

"You want to have a relationship argument here? Then it was better not to have come at all. If you could excuse me." You say, walking past Jacob and heading towards your car, but he gently grabs your hand before you can open the car door.

"I missed you," Jacob says as he gently strokes your hand. You look at him and then walk towards him, embracing him.

"I missed you too, more than you can imagine. How about you drive what's left of my car to La Push, so we can have a better conversation?" You say, hugging him tighter, as if you didn't want to let go. It's strange, but seeing him safe made you feel better. After dreaming so many times about Jacob's death, it's good to see him like this.

"I'll drive your old tin can here. You can sit comfortably in the passenger seat. And don't worry, I'm sure there will be some bandages for you there." He says, kissing your cheek and opening the passenger door for you. You get into the car and watch him enter the car and take the wheel. He starts driving, and you slowly begin to close your eyes, hoping that now that you're in Forks, your nightmares won't come true.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti' Prumia - Chapter 9: The Ticking of Time

Chapter 9: The Ticking of Time

The primal urge to survive oft drives decisions made in haste.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Slight angst, Otto Hightower, flashbacksssss

Word Count: 8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: Happy Christmas Eve to all who celebrate! Finally, the long awaited chapter 9. I hope you enjoy! (and psst, a small Christmas surprise coming soon! Unfortunately, it's not chapter 10, but hopefully you'll be as happy ;)

lovely dividers by @firefly-graphics !

The smell of rose oil permeated the air of Queen Alicent’s chambers, and the sounds of Aegon smashing his wooden dragon toy against his wooden tower toy could be heard, as the boy made roaring noises. Alicent watched the scene with slight amusement, as Helaena sat on her lap, docile, a rare moment of serenity. It was much needed, especially after the recent scandal that rocked the Red Keep and her contentious conversation with Rhaenyra a week prior.

Speaking of serenity…

Alicent trailed her gaze to a forlorn looking figure, sitting next to Aegon on the lushly woven Myrish carpet, her skirts splayed as she absentmindedly fiddled with a wooden dragon toy. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Alicent noted, trying to breach your diminished figure. She hesitated on whether to verbalise what she knew your mind was occupied with, “Are…are you still angry at Prince Daemon’s latest transgressions?” 

Once again, the tranquillity of nightfall had descended upon the Red Keep. The King’s solar was empty after the boisterous dinner that Viserys was lording over, elated to have his brother by his side again. Viserys and Rhaenyra had long since retired to bed, and now, there was only you and Daemon. 

Daemon lay sprawled on the large settee, looking bored as he twirled a newly forged dagger in his hands, gifted by his ever generous brother to celebrate his return. The firelight glinted off the large ruby set in the pommel, and he weighed it between his hands. Not Valyrian steel, like Dark Sister was, but he tended to cherish any gifts his brother gave that were not disappointment or frustration. Which was a rarity. 

Daemon’s bored gaze trailed to your figure, looking far too relaxed as you sat on the other end of the settee, face burrowed in a heavy tome. Daemon groaned, trying to get your attention and stop reading that godsforsaken book, but you only hummed, nonchalant, flipping to the next page. Daemon narrowed his eyes. 

Your attention was fully invested in a chapter about the medicinal properties of hemlock in the newest tome you had successfully bribed the maesters for, when a sudden poke at your cheek caused an indignant noise to be elicited from your throat. “What in the Seven Hells,” you snapped your tome shut to glare at Daemon’s smug face, resting so close to your lap it made your heart thud in your chest. “Are you doing?” 

“Trying to get your attention,” he said simply, putting his dagger down onto the tea table. 

You levelled an unimpressed look at him. “And that required you to poke me in the cheek? What are you, five?” 

“Perhaps.” 

You huffed, vexed, picking up your tome again. “Byka zaldrizes, I gave up precious time that could be spent doing something else just to spend it with you. Surely, you can spare this forlorn prince of yours some of your attention.” 

“Well, no one asked you to,” you said drily, your eyes flickering as they darted between the lines. “And we all know that your time will be spent mucking about in the Street of Silk, in some unlucky whore’s bed or getting drunk in your cups like some undignified ruffian.” 

“Anyone who has the good fortune of bedding me is touched by the gods themselves,” Daemon’s snarky tone made you roll your eyes. Him and his overinflated ego. “And your assumptions wound me, byka zaldrizes. Do you not trust that my time in the Stepstones have made me more mature?” 

Daemon was delighted by you putting your book down again, only to be greeted by your deadpan stare. “...are you still in possess of a cock?” 

Daemon cocked a brow, eyes shifting down as if pretending to check. “I do believe so, yes. It would be a tragedy if I wasn’t.” You flashed him a sweetly sardonic smile, “Then I do believe no more needs to be said.” 

Daemon groaned when you returned to reading your book, debating on the merits of just slapping it out of your hand. It would result in some very colourful language bursting from your lips, but it would be fun. 

“Truly, your faith in me is awe-inspiring,” Daemon remarked sarcastically. “And what if I said that this time I promise to stay for the foreseeable future?” 

You tilted your head to the side, detracted from your book once more. “Somehow I do not believe that. Trouble always seems to find you one way or another.” 

Daemon rolled his eyes, flashing you a devastatingly handsome grin that you had to fight a strange squirming sensation in your stomach. “Then I swear to the Seven Gods that I will stay out of trouble. I won’t curb my excursions to Flea Bottom of course,” Daemon added, seeing your incredulous look. “A man does have his urges. And you know of my nature.” Daemon smirked. “But I think I’m capable enough not to commit another act that would warrant exile. Don’t you think?” 

Your answering laugh echoed throughout the solar. But for a brief moment, you had believed him. After all, what more trouble could Daemon possibly incur? 

You finally broke out of your empty daze, letting out a low, slightly hoarse laugh. “I am. But he is not the only object of my ire,” you admitted, sighing as you lowered your eyes to where Aegon was banging his wooden dragon against the carpet. Thank the Seven it was soft or he would’ve dented the dragon by now. 

Confusion wrinkled Alicent’s features, but then her eyes shone with comprehension. “...are you perhaps feeling some anger towards Rhaenyra?” 

Your head snapped up, a slightly horrified look painted on your face. “No, of course not. Daemon is fully to blame for this situation.” 

You took a deep breath, feeling shame course through you like boiling water through your veins. You had known, that in some awful way, your conversation with Rhaenyra had indirectly led to the explosion of this scandal. Now, Daemon was exiled again - though you couldn't care less about that - Rhaenyra’s virtue had been called into question, and she was forced to hastily wed Ser Laenor. And the guilt had been eating you alive ever since. But you had not known your harmless words would lead to such a catastrophic end. ‘I am not cut out for this,’ you thought glumly to yourself. ‘That wise paragon of advice I was trying to emulate. I never was any of that.’ 

‘How foolish of me to play at a role I lack the foresight for.’ 

Nonetheless, your thoughts returned to the person who is mainly to blame for this situation.  

‘Stupid, stupid Daemon,’ you cursed in your head, fingers tightening around the wooden dragon toy. ‘How stupid of me to believe that he could’ve changed, that he couldn’t sink any lower. Stupid, stupid, stupid.’ 

At least one somewhat good thing had arisen out of this mess. The ‘resignation’ of Otto Hightower. 

Though many knew it was just a term meant to preserve the dignity of the former Lord Hand. 

You were not sorry to see the man go - you had disliked him ever since his orchestration of the debacle with Alicent and Viserys years ago. However, you were sorry to see Alicent’s distraught state for the past few days. You understood her - she was all alone now, this was almost as great of a loss to her as Aemma’s loss to you was. Being bereft of a figure of comfort and support. 

You studied Alicent, noting the slight eye bags under her eyes. You made a mental note to brew her a stronger chamomile tea - both to alleviate her stresses after pregnancy and to improve her quality of sleep. 

A sudden knock sounded at the door, and Alicent’s older cousin and one of her ladies-in-waiting, Malena Hightower, entered the room, curtsying. “Your Grace,” you were surprised when Malena turned to you instead. 

“Lady Y/N…a messenger came by earlier. He wished for me to convey the Hand…I mean, Ser Otto’s,” Malena recovered from her bluster with a slight flush, but you noticed Alicent’s face briefly crumple when she heard her father’s title reversion back to Ser. You felt a twinge of sympathy. “He wished for me to convey that Ser Otto wishes to have a discussion with you.” 

The clattering of a teacup on the floor startled the both of us. Alicent looked embarrassed at her clumsiness, as a servant rushed in upon hearing the noise. “Pardon me. Malena, did my father disclose the reason why he wishes for an audience with my chief lady-in-waiting?” You were unnerved by Alicent’s uncharacteristic sharp tone. It was like…she was angry at her father. 

Malena looked similarly unnerved. “Your Grace, I apologise. I do not know. The messenger just said that Ser Otto requested for Lady Y/N’s presence in his study whenever she was available.” 

Alicent kept a calm facade, but inside, her heart was thumping like a surge of wild animals. ‘Is what I have been fearing about to come true? Y/N-’ Alicent swung her gaze to yours, where you were conversing discreetly with Malena. 

“Thank you, Malena. If the messenger is still there, tell him I will be with him momentarily.” Alarm surged through Alicent’s body. She quickly handed Helaena over to the startled servant who had just finished picking up the shattered cup and disposed of it, stepping towards you. 

“Y/N, I do not think you should go.” The words were out of her mouth before she could suppress them. Perplexed, you stared at the younger girl, noticing her panic. It unsettled you. 

You tried to shoot her a reassuring smile. “Alicent, Your Grace-” Alicent immediately motioned for Malena and the servant holding Helaena to retreat out of the room when she noticed you addressing her by her title. They evacuated the room with haste. 

Alicent seized both of your hands in hers, a gesture that startled you with its intensity and urgency. “No, do not go. Please,” she begged, her eyes flickering with a violent storm of conflicting emotions. She knew she should be obedient to her father, and that the meeting could be harmless, but a wrenching gut feeling told her it was not so. 

You looked worried: what exactly had gotten into Alicent? It was unlike her to break her composure, and by such a simple request. Alarm bells began tolling in your head, and just as you were about to tell her that you wouldn’t go, a knock sounded at the door, and you and Alicent promptly broke apart from your intimate stance. 

Malena re-entered the room, along with a man you recognised as one of Otto’s household knights, Ser Garrick Pommingham. This was bad. Alicent made a strangled noise in her throat as she beheld Ser Garrick. It was serious enough that her father had sent a household knight to deliver the message, but Ser Garrick? He was one of her father’s oldest household knights, and fiercely loyal and trusted by Otto. It was clear that the invitation was not one that both you nor Alicent had any say in. 

“My Queen.” Ser Garrick bowed reverently to Alicent, before turning to you and giving you a smaller bow. “Lady Y/N. Shall I escort you to my liege?” 

Any of Alicent’s protests were immediately silenced, as she wrung her hands helplessly. There was no fighting against Ser Garrick, who was an extension of her father, and a bull-headed man at that - always priding himself on completing all his tasks to perfection. 

You knew as well, so you could only give Alicent a small, reassuring smile, trying to comfort her. Steeling yourself, you turned to Ser Garrick with a composed smile.

“Lead the way, Ser.” 

The Tower of the Hand had been the site of a flurry of activity over the past few days, as various servants and household knights bustled in and out of the rooms, carrying and loading up boxes of belongings into carriages to be transported back to Oldtown. 

Otto watched his servants move his things out of his nearly vacant study with an oddly impassive look, as he stewed in his own thoughts at his dismissal. He never thought that he would take up residence in Oldtown ever again, but how quickly the tide could be changed here in King’s Landing. 

The sound of a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts, and soon enough, his loyal household knight, Ser Garrick, showed in the guest he had been expecting. 

“Ah, Lady Y/N. I thank you for coming on such short notice.” 

You entered the room, the skirts of your rose pink gown swishing as you moved into the study. Wariness was woven in every bone of your body, your muscles taut with tension. “Ser Otto,” you nodded at him, not missing how the former Hand’s frame turned stiff at the reversion of his title back to Ser. 

“What matter has caused you to ask me to your study at such a busy time?” 

Otto took a seat at the lavishly appointed chair at his desk. The same desk where he had spent so many nights toiling for King Viserys. Though the chair could no longer be called rightfully his, he leaned into it, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you did so, though not without reluctance.

"I do not wish to take up too much of your time, as my own time is precious too," Otto stated, his voice blunt as he leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the oak of the desk.

"I have a proposal for you." 

A frown furrowed your eyebrows, but you tried not to show it, smoothing out your skirts instead. “And what is that proposal? I am most interested to hear it.” 

Otto smirked slightly at the small note of sarcasm he detected in your voice. Normally, he would be irked at such disrespect, but it was evident from this that you wished not to play any games. ‘A woman who cuts straight to the chase,’ he thought to himself. ‘No wonder Prince Daemon was drawn to her.’ 

It made things much simpler anyway. 

“I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage,” Otto stated bluntly as he waited for your reaction. 

Meanwhile, you were frozen, as if roots had suddenly sprung from the ground and trapped you in the chair. ‘My hand in marriage?’ The words echoed through your brain. You suddenly recalled Alicent’s guilt stricken expression as she watched you leave her apartments. 

“Ser Otto,” you said quietly. “Surely you are jesting.” 

Otto looked unruffled at that. “I do not jest about such matters, Lady Y/N.” You let some of the incredulity you were feeling slip into your expression. “Allow me to explain the merits of our match,” Otto said calmly, leaning back into his chair. 

“Though I am ashamed of having done so, I had overheard your shouting match with your father at the Kingswood many moons ago.” This made you wince. You did not blame the man, the both of you probably shouted loud enough that those at the Wall could hear you. 

“I understand you are seeking a match, by the end of this year in fact. Which is less than two moons away,” Otto observed you as you tried not to squirm under his intense gaze. “Quite a pressing predicament.” 

Otto sighed. “I know, my dismissal has not made me the most…appealing of matches. What with my status as a second son, standing to inherit nothing short of some wealth and meagre land holdings. However, as you well know, you are not the most appealing of matches as well.” 

When you looked offended, Otto only went on blandly, “Please, do not take offence, Lady Y/N. My words do not come from a place of malice. It is true though, is it not? While you are lovely, your age is not one to be overlooked. You are turning- twenty six? Twenty seven this year? Many lords in Westeros consider this to be well past your prime.” Otto’s eyes glinted. “And the reputation of your…ah, headstrongness, is well known across the Seven Kingdom. As well as your long string of marriage rejections.” 

Otto shrugged, “That aside, think pragmatically. I am moving back to take up residence in Oldtown once more. Should you go with me, you would be much closer to home than here in King’s Landing.” Otto could still see the dubiousness in your eyes, and he knew he had to sweeten the deal up a little more. “And besides, I would not require any children of you.” He knew he had you again when your gaze shot up from looking down fixedly at the wood of his desk. “I am already a widower, with a daughter as Queen and four other strong sons. You would be under no pressure to produce heirs for me. And as a second son, my children stand to inherit next to nothing anyway. Moreover, if you are worried of any mistreatment, fret not. You are my daughter’s dearest companion, and a mother figure to her too. I will treat you with utmost respect” 

You eyed him warily, finally speaking up. “You’ve stated many demerits of this match as well, Ser Otto. Do you truly think it worth it for the both of us to pursue such a match?” 

Otto’s eyes glinted. She was more crafty than he thought. He would have to hammer down the point a little. “Though my inheritance is not rich in titles, I can assure you, it is not something to be overlooked. You would live comfortably, and be free to pursue any of your interests. I heard from the Maesters that you have an interest in healing and scholarly affairs. What better place to expand your knowledge than in Oldtown, home of the Citadel and some of the finest minds in Westeros?” 

Your gaze sharpened at that, he clearly had been keeping tabs on you for a while now. Though his offer was not without temptation of its own. “But why me?” you pressed. “As you have said, I am past my prime and have a wild temper at that. The only merits I possess are my lineage and heirship to Highgarden, and my father has already taken a new wife, so that hangs in the balance as well.” 

Otto smiled, “And that alone is enough.” Otto stood up, slowly walking over to your chair. He took your hand gently, and kissed the back of your hand softly. A frown was etched on your lips, and Otto knew it was best to let the matter go. For now. 

“I shall give you some time to consider it,” Otto rumbled softly, helping you out of your chair. “But the clock is ticking, Lady Y/N. Both for you and I. Once I depart for Oldtown in a few days, the offer shall be rescinded.” His expression was one of faux concern. “And do you truly believe that you would be able to find any other man of suitable standing to court you before your father’s deadline?” 

‘Even now he was not telling the truth, and trying to use wily means to stoke your deepest insecurities to his own gain,’ you thought, regarding the man before you in disdain. The both of you knew the truth of why he sought your hand, not out of compassion or sympathy, but to climb his way back up the political ranks. All of court knew how close you were with the members of House Targaryen, and that you were an ear of the King. otto was clearly trying to use you for his own designs, the same way he had used Alicent, and foist Aegon up onto the Iron Throne, whilst gaining more influence over Viserys - as if he hadn’t have enough already. Disgust pulsed through you. 

You shot Otto a haughty look, brushing off his hand. “This is still a personal matter, Ser Otto, and I mislike the tone of your voice. As a stranger, you would do well to refrain from making comments on my personal life.” 

Otto nodded stiffly. “Of course. I apologise. I overstepped. Shall I escort you back to my daughter’s chambers then?” 

“No need, thank you.” You were eager to put as much distance between you and Otto as soon as possible. And you couldn’t possibly see Alicent with your mind in such a jumbled state. You bowed your head stiffly, “I bid you farewell, Ser. I will…consider your proposal.” He nodded, but you could see his gaze was filled with calculation as you turned your back on him and walked away. 

“Lady Y/N.” Otto’s voice halted you just as your hand was on the door handle. “Just a question.” 

“Do you really think that staking your bets on Prince Daemon would result in a good end?” You stilled, turning around to face him yet again. Your eyes met his cool green ones. “I do not understand what you mean, Ser Otto.” 

“What I meant was,” Otto’s voice was blunt. “I do not think marrying Prince Daemon would bode well for you, if you wish to be closer to the centre of power.” 

You stared incredulously at him, swivelling around to face him fully once again. “I’m afraid you have it all wrong, Ser. I never had that sort of intention.” 

“Ask yourself, do you really believe that?” Otto’s voice was challenging. “Because I do not think you know your heart well enough..”

Astonished and angered by his boldness, you took a step back closer to the door. “Forgive me, Ser Otto, but I do not think you would know my heart better than I do.” You turned to leave, pulling open the door. 

“Search your heart deeply, Lady Y/N,” Otto called out. “You will find my words will ring true.” You didn’t respond, instead choosing to shut the door firmly behind you, leaving Otto Hightower and his delusions of grandeur behind. 

The Red Keep was blessed with a particularly pleasant chill this day, in the midst of a harsh autumn and an impending harsher winter. But you couldn’t bring yourself to admire the red and russet leaves as you normally did, instead wandering aimlessly around the Red Keep like a wraith. 

It was completely absurd for Otto Hightower to think that you got close to Daemon for ulterior motives. Marriage? With that insufferable punk? You snorted. You could barely stand his presence most of the time, let alone marriage. 

It was strange, however. Daemon had always been handsome, dangerously so, and charming, and that had never had an effect on you in the least. But ever since Aemma’s death…ever since his return from the Stepstones. You couldn’t lie, there was something there. The first stirrings of a fire. 

Well, that fire would never burn on damp logs anyway, and that was all thanks to Daemon’s stupidity. You grumbled to yourself, shuddering that you might have carried a torch for Daemon fucking Targaryen. 

You decided to venture into one of the courtyards found in the Red Keep. Perhaps some greenery would restore your senses, and provide a balm for your dilemma. Whatever were you supposed to do? There was no escaping the fact that it was nigh impossible to find a good match within two moons, one that would satisfy both you and your father’s expectations. But was marrying Otto Hightower really your only option? In all your worst nightmares, you never imagined that it could get so bad. While you did not share Daemon’s intense hatred for the man, the man made your skin crawl, with his pleasantries disguising a shrewd mind of warped traditional beliefs. 

‘Could I really be happy with a man like that?’ 

Lost in thought, you didn’t realise you had company until you caught sight of a tall figure with blonde hair, sitting under the shade of a huge willow tree, an intent expression on his face as he sketched away on a piece of parchment. Curious, you approached the lone figure to get a closer look. As you stepped closer however, your heel crunched on a branch, causing the mysterious stranger’s head to snap up. Your eyes snagged onto the sigil pinned to his tunic. 

A Beesbury. 

You inclined your head apologetically, “Beg your pardon, I did not mean to disturb you.” The young man from House Beesbury laughed, scooping up his parchment before walking towards you and bowing. “Lady Y/N. Do not apologise, my day has been made infinitely better by your presence.” 

You let out a small chuckle at his flattering, giving him a discrete once over. Exactly who was this man? Clearly you were not subtle enough, given the fact that he bowed once more, placing a hand to his chest as he did. “You must forgive my rudeness, my lady. My name is Alan Beesbury. My father, Lord Lyman Beesbury, serves on the Small Council as Master of Coin.” You let out a surprise “Oh!” before dipping your head politely. “Ser Alan. You must forgive me, I did not recognise you.” 

Ser Alan smiled brightly, unbothered. “Tis alright, my lady. Granted, I have never been introduced to you in a formal setting, so it is understandable you do not know me.” “How did you recognise me then, ser?” you inquired. “I visited Highgarden with my father a few years ago, and caught sight of you with your lord father. I deeply regret that I was not able to make your acquaintance then. Although it seems,” Alan grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief, “That I am lucky enough to behold your beautiful visage once more, my lady. You have only grown lovelier throughout the years.” You couldn’t refrain from snorting lightly, “You have quite the honeyed tongue, ser.” “Well, it is a useful skill at court. And to charm the ladies I have taken a fancy to.” he winked. “Would you grant me the honour of your company, my lady? It has been naught but two days since my arrival, and I find that I am in need of a guide to this vast keep.” An amused smile graced your lips, as you thought about his offer. He might be a flirt, and awfully forward, but he seemed a jolly enough fellow, and it would be rude to reject his company. And…it would be a good distraction. 

“I am at your disposal, ser.” He gallantly offered you his arm, and you took it. As you strolled through the hallways of the Red Keep, passing servants shot you strange looks, but you ignored them. “So, what brings you to the Red Keep, ser?” “Ah, my lord father summoned me to court to attend the upcoming nuptials for Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon.” Alan made a face that was so offended you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “He also thought it a good window of opportunity for me to find a lady wife.” 

“Oh,” was all you could say, your mind going back to your unpleasant conversation with Otto Hightower. Not wanting to seem impolite, you quickly added, “I wish you luck in your search, ser.” He smiled, although the joy did not reach his eyes. “Thank you, my lady. You are too kind.” 

 Ser Alan halted abruptly, startling you when you noticed you had stopped next to a flowering bush. Carefully, he plucked a gorgeous, striking yellow rose, moving to tuck it behind your ear. “A magnificent rose, befitting a charming lady as yourself, my lady.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his spontaneous show of chivalry. “I have to admit, ser, that you are the first man who has shown me this courtesy. I thank you most humbly.” 

“My father has always educated me about the importance of courtesy, especially to a lady.” Ser Alan shrugged, a sheepish grin painted on his features. “So long as it makes you happy, milady.” You strolled through the garden, chatting as he inquired about your life at court, which you happily indulged. Gradually, you forgot about Otto Hightower and Rhaenyra and Alicent as you conversed with him, too lost in trading anecdotes and playful jabs with each other about some rather insufferable personalities at court. You realised you found his company rather pleasing: he was attentive, and clearly a gentleman, but not to the extent where it was ridiculously cheesy. He wasn’t dreadful company either, he seemed sincere to get to know his talking companion, instead of endlessly bragging about himself or his long list of achievements. And behind his sweet words, he also hid a sharp sense of wit and humour. He was an ideal husband, the thought struck you like lightning. You could feel the cogs in your head begin to turn. You might have just found a way to escape Otto Hightower’s offer after all. 

“May I confess something, my lady?” Ser Alan’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “You may speak freely with me, ser.” you hesitated, before asking him, “Is it alright if I call you Alan, instead?” 

Ser Alan’s eyes widened, and you were a little afraid you had pushed your boundaries a little too far, but he soon broke out in a genuine smile. “If only I can call you Y/N in return, my lady.” You found yourself returning his smile with one of your own. “Then it is settled then. What were you going to say, Alan?” “To be honest, Y/N, I was extremely elated to run into you today.” Catching sight of your puzzled face, he hurriedly rushed to explain, “You see, I had sent a few marriage proposals to you before. Well at least my father has. I thought you quite brilliant despite my brief encounter with you at Highgarden. You radiate warmth, even at first glance, and I was rather drawn to you. Which was why I was so happy to have been able to have the fortune to bump into you here today. The Seven have truly blessed me.” 

“I see…” you murmured. “You are rather forward, aren’t you, Alan?” Alan looked unashamed of that. “I am a firm believer that being coy often robs us of opportunities in life, Y/N.” An amused smile twitched at your lips, “A bold philosophy, though certainly a wise one.” You took some deep breaths, debating on the gamble you were about to take. It was risky as hell. You barely knew anything about the man. It could end in disaster. But then again, your recent track record of decisions had led to bigger disasters than this. 

‘And do you truly believe that you would be able to find any other man of suitable standing to court you before your father’s deadline?‘

How life could change with just one decision. 

“Alan.” you began slowly, swallowing as you braced myself. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...does your marriage proposal still stand, by any chance?” 

Throughout your time at court, you had not been well acquainted with Lord Lyman Beesbury. A jolly enough man, and sharp of wit and tongue despite his old age was all that you knew of him. 

What you did not expect was how excited the man could be. 

“Oh, this is fantastic, wonderful news,” Lord Lyman exclaimed, grabbing your hands and shaking them vigorously. You looked over to Alan with a bewildered expression, and he simply smiled and mouthed, ‘He’s always like this. Don’t mind it.’ 

“To think my son would finally settle down, and to Lady Tyrell at that,” Lyman continued to ramble on, and you were a little worried that the old man might collapse from the joy. “A fine, fine choice you’ve made, son. A fine choice. I couldn’t be prouder…” 

You were mortified at how eager Lord Lyman seemed to be at the prospect of your marriage, but inside, you were secretly relieved. Otto Hightower had not sent word after news of your engagement with Ser Alan had disseminated through the castle, in no part thanks to the gossips who sniped at how the two of you barely had a courtship before your engagement. You had heard many whispers and murmurings of how desperate you must be to be driven to this point, but you didn’t care. You would take marrying Ser Alan any day over Otto Hightower.

No one was, of course, happier than Lord Matthos Tyrell at the word of his daughter’s engagement. From the way the reply to your letter had a few suspicious stains here and there, it seems a few tears had been shed. You could only muster a small smile at that, however. 

Alan had been the perfect gentleman over the past two weeks, showering you with gifts such as flowers or jewels - as fitting a suitor does to a lady - spending time with you, taking strolls with you, oftentimes visiting you while you were carrying out your duties as lady-in-waiting to Alicent and the like. Time after time, you would find Alicent’s gaze trailing across Alan doubtfully, like she was trying to scrutinise him for any signs of ill will, but you had reassured her in private that he was wonderful. But all she had to say was: 

“It is in human nature not to show who they truly are until later on, Y/N. I am just concerned.” 

Alicent’s words made you a little ill at ease, as you knew as much. You’ve heard so many horror stories over the years from ladies whose husband’s affections for them evaporated like morning dew upon their marriage after all, and seen enough examples. 

But you had made your gamble, and you must live with the consequences. No matter how dire they may be. 

The candles in the King’s private bed chambers and living space flickered as the doors opened with a loud creak, and you stepped in quietly. The room looked empty, and so you decided to walk around for a bit. 

And that’s when your heart nearly stopped. 

There she was. 

Rendered in vivid oils, the likeness of Aemma stared out at you with that gentle, comforting smile. Her visage encased within an intricately carved gold frame with dragons, and a makeshift shrine with candles decorated her portrait. Your heart was suddenly gripped with unbearable pain. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Viserys’ voice rang out from behind you, as he walked slowly to stand next to you, staring almost reverently up at her portrait. You couldn’t speak, your throat was closing up at the threat of tears that threatened to overwhelm and spill out from your eyes. You tilted your head down, unable to look anymore at that familiar, haunting smile. 

The press of a small white candle into your hand startled you. Viserys regarded you with a knowing sadness. “I thought you might like to honour her. We haven’t…done so in a while. Together as a family.” 

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now. Gingerly, you reached over and lit the candle, placing it on the shrine. You bowed your head, thinking of how much things have changed ever since her passing. How much you have had to change. 

“She would be so pleased to know that you were getting married,” Viserys lamented, gently touching oil-painting-Aemma’s hand. “From what I can recall, it had always been one of her greatest wishes to see you happily married.” 

You offered him a hollow smile at that. The joys of marriage had not yet made itself known to you, if you were even capable of it. And now, your head was too occupied with memories. 

“You’re in a terribly grumpy mood,” Aemma commented, as she reached for a roll of warm buttered bread to go with her third cup of tea. Her light blue eyes were filled with amusement as she watched you prop your head up from where you had lain it on the table, a disgruntled expression on your features. “Dare I inquire for the reason?” 

“Father has sent me another list of eligible bachelors,” you grumbled, helping Aemma refill her teacup, which she sighed exasperatedly at that. When it was just the two of you alone, she preferred for you not to serve her as lady-in-waiting, instead being more at ease and natural with her as her friend. But despite your attempts at overturning this habit, you found yourself unable to. Touch and small gestures were how you expressed your feelings after all. 

“From which kingdom is it for this time?” Aemma asked in a joking tone, putting a strawberry tart in her mouth as she stroked her small baby bump that had begun to show after four moons. 

“The Stormlands this time,” you sighed, dispiritedly popping a tart with an unknown yellow fruit in your mouth. The tangy sweetness, yet slight sourness of the fruit made you cheer up a little. 

“That’s a mango tart. Some merchants from the Summer Isles exported it to us,” Aemma explained, carefully noting your expression. 

“I wish I could live in the Summer Isles,” you sighed, popping another one of those tarts into your mouth. “And be done with all this bother. For Seven’s sake, I’m only twenty one. There’s still plenty of time.” 

“Yes, for you to develop wrinkles,” Aemma jested, letting out a laugh at your mortally offended face. “My queen, is it customary for you to insult your subjects in their time of distress?” You asked with faux hurt in your voice. 

“Perhaps I am a secret tyrant,” Aemma smirked slightly, lifting her teacup to her lips. “I am serious though, Y/N. You've been by my side as my lady-in-waiting for nearly two years, and we have known each other since we were children. You watched me get married to Viserys, be crowned as Queen, and giving birth to Rhaenyra. When will I get to witness some of your happy moments?” 

You gave her a deadpan look. “Aemma. I truly see no joy in getting married now. I’m still too young.” Aemma tried to hold in a sigh. “”And when will that be? Moons later? Years? A decade? When you’re old and grey?” 

“When I am ready, Aemma.” You stated, voice tinged with determination. “But when?” Aemma pressed. “Not to fear, I will definitely get married sometime during your lifetime,” you reassured her in a joking tone. “Perhaps when you’ve lived to seventy years…” 

Aemma threw the throw cushion she was holding in her lap at you, and you caught it, laughing, as Aemma shook her head in fond exasperation. “You’re insufferable.” 

Aemma looked at you, laughter dancing in your eyes as you changed the topic back to how you were going to answer your father’s newest letter. A wistful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

Do whatever you want, Y/N. I just hope that you will never sacrifice your happiness for the sake of something else. 

A small tear plopped to the weathered ground of the King’s chambers as you managed to choke out, “She would be. I just wish…she could be here to see it.” 

Viserys had a slightly guilty look on his face as you turned your gaze back to the portrait, confronting all the painful, bittersweet memories in all their blazing intensity. 

It was time to stop running. 

“When did you get this portrait commissioned?” The small semblance of a smile appeared on Viserys’ face again. “It is a story in itself, actually. Back when Aemma was…” Viserys’ voice hitched. “Pregnant…with Baelon, I had commissioned an artist from Volantis to paint it, as a gift to Aemma. Honouring her for giving us our-” Viserys choked up, his voice cracking. “For giving us our son.” 

Your fists clenched slightly. “And then when Aemma…I was so lost. I couldn’t bring myself to look at any portraits of her, so I stopped work on the painting.” Viserys looked like he wanted to pull portrait Aemma out of the frame she was trapped in, by sheer will of anguish. 

“But I had a change of heart. Three months after I named Rhaenyra as heir, I had moved on. I finally felt…peace. Like I have taken a step to atonement. So I gave word for the artist to continue, wanting to place it in the Gallery of Dragons after it was done.” The Gallery of Dragons was an art gallery in the Red Keep which honoured previous Targaryen rulers and royals who had passed. “But then he died when Alicent and I married.” 

“Oh dear,” you murmured softly under your breath, and Viserys let out a ragged laugh, before bursting into a fit of coughing. You moved to help him to a chair, but he held out a hand, his focus on Aemma. 

“I thought it a sign from the ancestors, from the Gods, that I should let go,” Viserys voiced out tiredly. “And so the painting remained untouched, and I thought I’d never see it to its finish. That the chapter would remain closed forever.” 

“Then when Helaena was born, the head royal artist decided to take on the job.” “Why?” You asked. You knew that the head royal artist, an old kindly man, had deeply revered Queen Aemma, for he was of the Vale and Aemma had brought him to court as part of her entourage, where he quickly rose up in the ranks. His previous occupation as a woodworker apparently served his artistic abilities well. 

“He was in his final days, and he wished for that to be the last painting he ever did.” Viserys smiled, his head drooping. “And I am glad he did.” 

Silence fell over the room as you two continued admiring the painting of your beloved Aemma. “Her eyes seem imbued with life, don’t you think?” You mentioned in a soft voice. “It’s like she is about to start talking any second now.” Viserys let out a hoarse sounding laugh, coughing again. This time it sounded more serious, but he waved away your concern all the same. “They are. The artists did a good job.” 

You were surprised when Viserys shuffled away to a chest on a table, rummaging through it before taking something out. It turned out to be some strange looking thin red sticks. 

“In Old Valyria, while there were many gods that people worshipped, the way they honoured their dead were the same,” Viserys explained quietly, handing you a stick, which you took, bewildered. “They would light it, then bow three times before the deceased’s portrait. It was said that a soul connection would then be forged between you and the person you were mourning, and you could convey a message to them.” 

“It sounds…” you tried to find the words to describe it. “...poetic.” 

“I thought so too. Shall we?” 

The two of you lit up the sticks, and a sweetly smoky smell emitted from them as they were lit. you followed Viserys’ lead, bowing your head three times, before closing your eyes. 

You hesitated on what to say, but eventually settled on, ‘I’m getting married, Aemma. I wish you were alive to witness it…but I know you would be delighted in the afterlife. I hope you are doing well.’ 

‘I hope you’ve seen how much I’ve grown. I hope you’re proud of me.’ 

“Are you happy, Y/N?” Viserys’ voice broke you out of your thoughts. For a moment, you look lost at what to respond. Were you happy? Though you didn’t feel the typical, dizzy excitement that the poets talked about when getting married, you felt something steady, something reassuring. Contentment. 

“I am.” 

“Truly?” Viserys’ pressing made you hesitate a little, but you pulled a smile on your face and answered. “I am. Really. Alan is a good man, and I am ready to begin a new chapter in my life.” 

Viserys finally began to relax, the tension visibly seeping out of his muscles. “Then I am most pleased for you. Though I never envisioned you to marry, and a selfish part of me wishes you would not have to leave this court, I am happy for you.” 

You bowed, a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you, Viserys. It means a lot to me.” 

His next words made you temporarily stunned into silence however. “Of course, I have also prepared your dowry. I have made sure that while it is lacking compared to Rhaenyra’s, that it is not to be underestimated. A ransom of jewels and gold as well as some antiques - Lord Beesbury does love his antiques. Some of those diamonds and sapphires are the finest I have ever seen.” 

Your mouth was agape. “Viserys, there is no need for you to-” Viserys talked over you, taking your hand. “But there is.” He looked at you with heartfelt gratitude and affection. “You are family to me, Y/N. It is the least I can do for you, for such a momentous occasion.” 

Your gaze softened as you began tearing up. “I cannot accept this. My father is already-” “I know, Y/N,” Viserys silenced you again. “But it’s not just for your dowry. Majority of the jewels and gold are for you.” 

You were now even more horrified and confused than before. “For me?” Viserys regarded you with a fond exasperation that almost made you weep at his similarity to Aemma’s. “For you, you silly goose. In the event…you are unhappy with your match, those jewels and gold should be sufficient for you to start a sizeable fund of your own. And of course, I will welcome you back to court with open arms at any time.” 

You couldn’t see past the blurry haze of tears and the painful throbbing of your heart, but the next thing you knew, Viserys was hugging you tightly back as you embraced him, choking with quiet sobs. He was crying himself a little too. “I only hope that you will be happy for the rest of your days, Y/N,” Viserys murmured, gently patting your back. Your body shook with violent sobs. “I…will. I promise. I thank you most gratefully for your generosity.” 

The two of you stayed like this for a while, before you awkwardly broke apart when the tears had stopped flowing. “The hour is quite late,” Viserys noted, feeling a little fatigued. You smiled weakly, still reeling from the shock. “That it is. I should be returning to my chambers then.” 

Viserys nodded, looking at you with fondness in his gaze. “Of course. You must still help me plan for Rhaenyra’s upcoming nuptials. And for your own. I would not want to impose on you any further.” 

You curtsied slightly, “Then I shall retire for the night then.” You hesitated, looking at Aemma’s portrait one last time, many thoughts running through your head. A final goodbye. “Good night, Viserys.” 

Viserys watched her leave, and the world suddenly seemed darker, much heavier. Like it had been since Aemma died. Coughs shook Viserys’ body, and he wearily took out a handkerchief to cover his mouth, careful not to let his spittle fly. A crimson stain slowly pooling at the white cloth was all he saw when he removed the handkerchief from his mouth. 

‘And now, I am alone once more.’ Viserys thought grimly, looking back at Aemma. ‘My last reminder of you is gone, and only Rhaenyra remains now. My strength, and my consolation. And my regret.’ 

Somewhere far away in Pentos, the squawks of a raven could be heard as first light broke across the city. Daemon Targaryen awoke, hair tousled and a disgruntled expression on his face, despite last night’s pleasures. He had dreamed of her. Again. It seemed she was a wraith plaguing his mind ever since that fateful day in Flea Bottom. 

His annoyance rose tenfold when he stalked up from his bed to receive the messenger raven. Unfolding the parchment, he took note of the familiar, rather wonky scrawl of someone who had only learnt to write recently. His eyes trailed over the words ‘the Hand has fallen from his high horse’, and he scoffed, smugness lining his features. The next two lines gave him pause, however.

‘The Princess has been betrothed to Ser Laenor.’ 

‘Lady Y/N Tyrell has been betrothed to Ser Alan Beesbury.’ 

‘From your loyal companion, Mysaria.’ 

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Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301 @hc-geralt-23 @babypink224221​ @mckenziewhite2005 

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: One more chapter until the end of Act I!!! AAAHHHHHH. I deeply apologise for my repeated promises to publish only to chicken out at the end, so I shall now refrain from making promises that I cannot make 😭 I hope to get Chapter 10 out before 2024 officially hits (new year new me lol), but no promises there. I'll do my best, however!

As always, thank you for reading this far! Let me know what you thought about this chapter in the comments 💕

[pockeymcmockey]

𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 | 𝓐𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

Summary: With [Name] trapped in the Red Keep, Rhaenyra comes to her rescue—or is it the other way around?

Warnings: Major character death, violence, blood, manslaughter, kidnapping? HEAVY angst, marriage, wounded by sword, ooc Aemond? That's it, just a lot of angst.

Author's Note: I have NOT read any of George's books so I have no idea how the story of Fire & Blood ends, so forgive me because I know none of this happens AT ALL in the book. 💀 Also, I have an alternative ending in the making!

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 | 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ𝔙 | 𝔄𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤

What anyone fails to realize is that during war, sacrifices must be made. In this instance, Aemond had sacrificed his woman for revenge against the one boy who ruined him. Now, as she climbs the jagged rocks that led to the entrance of Storm's End, ignoring his attempts at talking it through, he realized that sacrifices cannot be taken lightly—or taken back. The half-sighted princess pulled herself to the top of the cliff, not wasting time to sit upright and brush sand off of her clothes.

Aemond the Kinslayer trailed behind the woman that held his heart as she stomped her boots against the stone road until they came upon Vhagar, nesting in the tall grass. The green goliath recognized the prince, her rider, and the princess whom she almost devoured. The Targaryens of royal descent hopped onto the back of Vhagar, Aemond pulling her reigns and flying them to the Red Keep. As much as the princess wanted to go home to her mother, she knew the death of Lucerys would ruin her.

The kinslaying prince landed his colossal dragon outside of the Dragonpit, climbing off first then offering his hand to his wife-to-be. The woman ignored his act of decency and climbed down on her own, walking passed the one-eyed man into the usurper's home. Guards placed their lances in an 'X' in front of the princess until Aemond turned the corner, then they let her pass. Her expression remained blank throughout this trek, passing by servants, handmaidens, members of the kingsguard and even the Queen herself.

Aemond continued to follow her even up to her own chambers until she slammed the great wooden doors on his face, pushing a lounging sofa in front of it to keep him out. The prince leaned his head against the door and sighed, gripping at the hilt of his dagger before turning sharply and retracing his steps. When Alicent spotted her son returning from the hall that held [Name]'s chambers, she grabbed his forearm, her brow arched and her lips pursed. Aemond stared aloofly at his mother before she pulled him into an unoccupied room.

"Why is she here? Did she come alone? Where's Rhaenyra, did she come too?" Alicent bombarded her son with questions, spitting them out faster than a Targaryen could train a dragon. Aemond hadn't taken his eyes off the room's floor, his mind lost in thought about the last few hours. How is he supposed to tell his mother he lost control of Vhagar and murdered his nephew? She would be disappointed—if not furious—at him and would never let him leave the castle unattended like he was six again.

"Mother," Alicent spoke over her son, asking question after question and ranting with anxiety. "Mother!" The Queen stopped mid-question and stared at her son with eyes like saucers. "Enough. Lucerys is dead, as is his dragon. I lost control of Vhagar and she ate Llanerion. That's why she's here and she-" Aemond paused, caressing the holster for his sword. "She's angry with me. For killing her brother." Alicent nodded, one arm crossed over her chest and a hand covering her mouth as her eyes flicker across the floor. The Queen sighs and takes her son's head in her hands.

"Keep this to yourself, if anyone were to find out you lost control of a dragon then they'd think Targaryens were not meant to have them. And you are." Alicent kissed her son's forehead. "Don't let her leave this place," Alicent referred to the princess. "If Rhaenyra finds out, it will be on her own." The Queen parted with those final words, looking back at her son solemnly before leaving the room. Aemond stood unmoving, staring at the door where his mother formerly stood.

•⚔•

𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙...

As the crowned Queen, Rhaenyra, planned their attack for the future, Daemon was pulled aside by a messenger. The man with the news whispered into the Rogue Prince's ear, informing him of Lucerys' death and the missing princess. Daemon waved off the man and let his head fall limply against the stone wall, winding his arm back and fisting the wall with a scream of fury and agony. Daemon did not dislike Lucerys, he was truly like a son to him, but [Name] was his legitimate daughter, his blood. His outburst attracted the attention of those in the other room surrounding the painted table.

Daemon—bloody fist and all—walked around the table that shed a glow of orange, mapping out the realm. He pulled his Queen over to the fireplace and leaned in, his chest still rising vigorously. When Daemon told Rhaenyra the news, she could feel her heart pounding in her own ears, she saw through her eyes with a red lens and she breathed through her nose maddeningly. The Queen turned to the guests at the table, knocking the pieces on the floor with a pained scream. Jacaerys stared at his mother, using his intelligence to decipher what made his mother so angry.

"Mother? Where's Lucerys? What about [Name], where is she? Mother, where's my sister!" Jace slammed his fist against the wooden table, tears threatening to fall as he struggled to keep them in. Rhaenyra ignored her son's outburst and stormed out of the room and outside, where Syrax nested. To see his wife ride on dragon-back with murderous intent would normally make Daemon grin with glee, but his daughter has vanished and he does not know if she's lying around in a corpses body.

The guests ran out of Dragonstone, following their Queen's order to ride on dragon and intrude the barrier of the Red Keep. Rhaenyra was clouded by bloodlust, her mind spinning at a dangerous pace. Her ears clogged with the blaring sound of the wind and the voices in her head saying to burn everything down; to kill them all. Daemon rides beside his Queen, his wife, and the mother of his children, his mind in the same headspace except the madness was slowly slipping out of control.

In the Red Keep, [Name] sat beside her windowsill like the morning of her mother's miscarriage. She's kept herself in her chamber since she was brought back to King's Landing. When the handmaids brought food and water, she ignored them. When the Queen asked for her presence and sent a guard, she ignored them. When Aemond knocked on her door and asked to talk, she ignored him. But when she saw a flock of dragons headed towards King's Landing she didn't ignore it. She pushed the lounger out of the way and ran through the halls, making it to the courtyard before she was grabbed and pulled back.

Ser Criston caged her in his arms with a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the Dragonpit. The Queen awaited her, along with three of her children; Halaena, Aegon, and Aemond. Alicent signaled to Ser Criston to release the princess, whom when was free turned sharply and punched the knight in his nose. She shook her hand, trying to alleviate the pain then turned back to the four that stood in front of her.

"I apologize, Princess, but I must have you stay here. Your presence on the battlefield would only cause more tension between the families, and possibly more bloodshed." Alicent held her by her shoulders, looking at her scarred eye and running a thumb across it. "When this battle has been won, no matter who ends up on top, we will allow you freedom, but until then you must stay hidden. Not as a hostage but as someone who must be protected." Alicent looked to her youngest son and nodded, Aemond placing iron cuffs on his betrothed whom didn't even put up a fight.

Aemond walked his wife-to-be to Balerion's skull and sat her down, allowing her what little rest she could get. The princess leaned against the shrine, her head resting against the pale bricks as she closed her eyes. Aemond paced back and forth in front of her, contemplating if he should say something. Anything to get her to talk to him. The prince ceased his pacing and glided over to the princess in chains. He kneeled before her and grabbed hold of the chain link that bound her wrists.

"Hear me, my dear, for I'm choosing to commit treason for you." Aemond whispered to her, keying the locks on the cuffs. When the heavy metal fell from her wrists, Aemond rubbed his thumbs over them, kissing the reddening skin. "When you leave, don't come back for me. Stay away from King's Landing until your last days. Do not yearn for me." Aemond kissed her lips, softly but sensually, and caressed her cheek before pushing her back toward the door, telling her to run from him, to run to her family.

The princess cried for her lover, their interlocked hands lingering at the fingertips when she pulls away. Tears streaming down her cheeks before she runs to the surface of the Dragonpit and to the castle where her mother awaits her. When the princess arrives, the battle has already begun. A brigade is stood in front of the castle gate to keep anyone without a dragon from escaping or intruding from the outside.

"Rhaenyra! Enough with this- this madness! You're being ridiculous!" Alicent hid behind Ser Criston whom shielded her from Rhaenyra's threatening hands and her husband's murderous stare. "Don't you realize how unreasonable you're being? Aemond meant no harm! It was supposed to be all in good fun! Please, Rhaenyra, call off your dragons!" The Queen Regent, Alicent begged the Queen Rhaenyra, pleading with her.

"You killed my son! You took my daughter and imprisoned her! I should take one of yours, to make it fair." Syrax spread her wings, giving the allusion that they were binded to the back of Rhaenyra. Alicent ordered her guards to protect Aegon, still hiding behind Ser Criston, while trying to negotiate with the Mad Queen. Syrax hobbled closer to Rhaenyra, hovering just above her, waiting for her to to give the order.

"Fair? Was it fair when your son took Aemond's eye and didn't lose one in return? You talk about fairness yet you slither your way out of the consequences!" Alicent fumed. Rhaenyra was about to give the order when her eyes took notice of the blind one staring back at her, fear laced in the woman's expression. Distracted by her daughter's presence, Rhaenyra did not see Aegon unsheathe his sword, charging toward her. Out of instinct and last minute decisions, [Name] ran to her mother, shielding her from the whetted blade pointed at her.

Aemond ran through door and hall to get to the courtyard, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, readying himself to pierce any man in his way. When the one-eyed prince made his entrance, his face fell at the vision of his brother's sword pierced into the back of his lover, whom was gripping at her mother's shoulders trying to keep herself upright. Aemond froze in his stance, his eye of violet narrowing in on the body of his betrothed. Mahogany seeped through the cloth she wore, soaking it from the waist, up.

Aegon the Second dropped his sword to the dust, backing up little by little until Aemond pushed through the bodies that crowded in front of the princess. Rhaenyra dropped to her knees with the body of her child, trembling hands pushing strands of platinum hair from her face. Droplets of tears splattered against her face, looking up to see her mother's sore eyes. The princess smiled weakly at her mother, wrapping both arms around her mother's neck to pull her close, wanting to feel the maternal warmth only Rhaenyra could give her.

"Forgive me, Mother. I should've protected Lucerys, but protecting you was the least I could do..." Her hushed voice whispered to her mother whom held her daughter tightly, lips involuntarily quivering. Daemon watched from the back of Caraxes as his daughter lay, dying, in her mother's arms. His stare blank, but his heart breaking. Resting limply once more, the princess turned to look at Aemond, as did the rest of the company standing in the courtyard. She held her hand out to him, disregarding the sharp glare of swords her mother gave him.

"Aemond, my darling, I want to get married. Right here, right now." Aemond closed his seeing eye, shaking his head and bringing his trembling hands to wrap around her body, stealing her from the arms of Rhaenyra. The one-eyed prince carried her back into the castle to stand before the Iron Throne, calling for a maester to wed them. As the two said their vows, their family spectating behind them, they sealed their marriage with a kiss. It was full of longing, tasting of death and life, a perfect balance.

When the prince pulled away, he expected to see her smiling lips, her eyes open with glee, but instead they were dull. Lifeless. Aemond held her against his chest and carried her once more to the Silent Sisters, asking them to wrap her with golden ribbons, only fit for a woman of her heroics. The Silent Sisters brought out the mummified princess, the Targaryen and Hightower family gathering upon the hill that sat behind King's Landing, looking over the raging sea. Rhaenys, Corlys and their granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena gave their respects, Rhaenys bowing to the only person she truly had faith in.

Alicent and Halaena next, Aegon standing behind them, too ashamed to pay his respects directly but doing so internally. Daemon, Rhaenyra and Jacaerys clustered close, all three placing a hand on the wrappings of their daughter and sister. And lastly, Aemond, who had yet to shed his tears, waiting until he's alone to let his resolve break and his vulnerability to show. The prince did the honors of sending the Targaryen princess to the gods. Uttering "Dracarys" to Vhagar who bellowed sorrowfully before sending her flame to the princess' corpse.

It was during this moment, when the Targaryens and Hightowers were occupied with the ceremony of [Name]'s passing, did she ever feel truly at peace. Her marriage to Aemond still validated by her heart—and his—and how it took her death to finally bring the families together, even if just for a night. Where the Queens really looked at each other, saw each other. Where brothers and sister were truly siblings, where uncles and nephews and nieces got along. Where two families were at the beginning of their reconciliation, their path to becoming one.

Taglist

@daddysfavoritesexkitten @dudfahsn @hey-airam @motherofdragons1998 @kittykylax @icarusignite @lilithskywalker @mintyard @omgsuperstarg @pinkybee926 @helloitsshitzulover @bobamai1 @applepyesworld @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @caspianobsessed @sonnensplitter @sqrlgrl22 @solorubyjane @amethystwonders11 @marytvirgin @aphroditeisamilf @ephemeralninon @fairyunhappy @mikasakuchiki @shine101 @let-love-bleeds-red @zgzgzh @lilostif16 @landlockedmermaid77 @m1ndbrand @grippleback-galaxy @jeyramarie @gaemon-palehair @padfooteyes @bietchz @moiraiofheroes @stargaryenx @cypherpt5fttaehyung @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[giorno-plays-piano]

House of Chains

Part I

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x mage!reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, obsession, canon-typical violence, chase scenes, death of minor characters.

Words: 1.4k

Summary: In return for help to come back to your home world, you have been faithfully supporting the Greens to put Aegon on the throne. But when your promise is fulfilled, neither Otto nor Aemond are keen on letting you go.

P.S. You can read this little fic first to better understand the story if you'd like, but it's not necessary.

______________

When Aegon, now with a crown on his head but dead drunk as usual, finally disappears behind the closed doors along with Helaena and the Queen, you feel like you can breathe again. It's done. The new King is crowned. Your contract is fulfilled.

Turning your head to Aemond sitting by your right, you smile awkwardly, like you can't quite believe it happened. God, Aegon is crowned. It is far from the true victory of the Greens, but it is a good start - and a good finish for you. You've only promised to help putting the oldest son of Alicent on the trone, no more, no less. You are free to leave this godforsaken world and reunite with your family.

Aemond flinches when you touch his hand softly as if you just hit him, but you're not alarmed: he is still like that when he's alone with you. If anything, he seems even more jumpy when it's only you two, sharing comforting silence together.

It feels like ages since the night you comforted him while he was wailing from phantom eye pain on a deserted balcony. You grew closer, you think, although it's hard to say, judging by Aemond's perplexed expression. He probably never had anyone he could have a friendly relationship with, so he is still figuring out how it works, thankful to you for coming to treat him from time to time.

On that note, he actually became so audacious he slips in your chambers in the middle of the night if his eye bothers him again to seek your help, and, were you not planning to leave soon, you'd grow worried about your reputation in the court. Surely, the servants must already think Aemond spends all his nights in your company. One time Alicent even had to ask you why he was coming to see you so often, and looking at her being on the verge of a nervous breakdown as usual, you had to finally tell her what sorts of pain her son has been having. She cried. Then, she sent a dozen maesters to her son's chambers.

Aemond said nothing at all, though you apologized for revealing his secret. It wouldn't be good for him to tarnish his reputation, you muttered, since he would have to marry, eventually.

Regardless, his visits to your room only increased with Alicent no longer finding it scandalous, and you spend more time together with him than even with Otto, who's been notoriously controlling since the moment you arrived. But Aemond... he is almost nice. Pretty awkward, you think a little shy - god knows he has no idea how to converse with women who aren't planning on murdering him - but still nice.

He brings you a plate with fruits or a jar of nuts with honey, knowing you have a sweet tooth and don't always eat regularly, engrossed in carrying out Otto's plans. If, by chance, you are already in bed, undressed, he immediately turns away, nearly hiding behind a curtain to allow you to put something on as if you are completely naked in front of him, and his ears are fiery red. Besides, if you have time to come watch him train, he seems to sort of go out of his way to make the fight more entertaining for the public, which never really happens under normal circumstances because Aemond despises useless showing off.

Actually, when you came to the inner courtyard to see him practice for the first time, he stared at you, wide-eyed, wet glistening on his forehead, and missed Ser Criston's attack, nearly ending up with a deep gash in his shoulder. You felt so bad about it you came to apologize to his teacher later since you knew it happened because you distracted Aemond, but the knight only courtly asked you to visit the training grounds more often. It is for Prince's benefit, he said. You guess he wanted Aemond to get used to distractions, but the prince took it a little further, proud of you taking an interest in his fencing.

Well, he should be proud. Aemond is talented beyound measure, and his internal drive is something you love about him.

You love a lot of things about him, to be frank.

Nevertheless, despite how much you will miss him, Alicent and Helaena, you don't want to stay here a minute longer. This world is a black hole. Whatever gets inside comes out twisted and corrupted, and you dirtied your hands far too many times for it not to leave a mark on you. You don't like to kill, but you have to trade your power for dragon's breath. Today, you did even more for the royal family: you threw a shield over Targaryens when Rhaenys emerged from below, thinking she was planning to burn everyone alive. You didn't have to. Formally speaking, Aegon was already crowned, and if Meleys would spare some more flames, perhaps her deadly breath would be enough for an incantation to get you home. You wouldn't have to deal with Otto and plead for Vhagar's fire. But you still stretched a shield wide enough to cover them all, watching as Alicent trembled, standing in front of her older son and awaiting death. How could you not protect her and her kin?

But Meleys didn't burn you, and you wasted a lot of your power for nothing, barking at her angrily as she fleed. Least to say, Otto was amused at your theatrics even when you confessed to casting a protection spell for their sakes.

You purse your lips when you think of it. How foolish. You should have known Rhaenys wouldn't do it; this isn't in her character. You just panicked and played a hero for the sake of your own dignity. As if any of the Targaryens needed it.

Regardless, your debt is paid, and it's your time to leave, you tell to yourself in attempt to cool down as Otto finally enters the room. You hold your breath. You still can't believe all of you pulled it off, crowning Aegon so quickly.

"Long live the King," you proclaim proudly, tired but victorious, and Otto sends you one of his trademark sly smiles. "I hope you will win the upcoming war."

Aemond sends you a strange look, but you don't see him, your eyes on the Hand of the King as he strolls closer to the table.

"My promise has been fulfilled. I assume I can gather my things and come down to the shore right away?"

Otto's smile grows unnaturally wide as he stills. You grow anxious, staring at him and wishing you won't hear what you think you will. Please, no. You're done here. You murdered Misariya and half, if not more, of her little worms in the Red Keep. You stole, you spied, you murdered more. You chained Aegon to his room so he wouldn't run before the succession ceremony and cast a shield to protect him against a living dragon. Is it not enough?

But nothing is ever enough for men like Otto Hightower. It does not come as a big surprise, but you feel hollowed out anyway.

"You have been most helpful in aiding us so far," he starts carefully as if you don't know what he will say next. "I must admit your contribution has been so considerable that you've become our most trusted ally, more capable than any of our supporters. I ask you to reconsider leaving us so early while Rhaenyra still poses a threat to my grandson's rule."

The silence is so loud you can hear it pulsing in your ears.

"No," you smile through clenched teeth. "Keep your word. Take me to Vhagar."

Otto's smile is still plastered on his face, but he doesn't move. Doesn't say anything else as if he expects you to understand his position when it is you who is the victim.

"Aemond," enraged, you turn to him, to your last resort, searching for any sort of support from a man you chose to trust. "Please! I've done everything I could. Keep your word. Let me go!"

He must help. He's the closest to you, closer than Alicent or Aegon or Helaena. For the past month, you have been treating him almost nightly, easing his pain, giving him peace. Perhaps you haven't been each other's confidantes, but you think of him as a friend. He can't... he can't do this to you. He knows how much you miss your family, your home. How foreign his world is to you.

You look him in the face, searching for compassion, for understanding or at least some kindness, but Aemond's eye is hollow, and his lips are clenched tight.

"You are needed here," he says, and your heart sinks within you. "You have to stay."

Part III

Part II

Part IV

________

Taglist: @heavenly1927 @lost-and-founds

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 5 - "Oh Brother, I've Returned"

an: While it does not fit this chapter entirely, I listened to "Brother" by Madds Buckley a lot during this chapter. As an older sister who moved out when my younger sibling was under 10, I feel the guilt of being gone while your siblings grow up without you. I highly recommend that song.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: "It is not a ridiculous notion to fear what we do not know. Yet you cannot let your fears keep you from them."

TW: Anxiety, profanity, angst, dead daddy issues, literal bone crushing hugs, substance use, fear of addiction, detailed descriptions of Viserys I death, descriptions of severe pain, Vizzy is not a good parent, Aemond and Jace making a scene at dinner AGAIN, very large and physically intimidating men, Jaehaerys being very much a brother, Joffrey and Luke being little shithead brothers,

Romantic Pairings: Very brief focus on Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, Very brief focus on Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader.

Other characters shining in this chapter: Ser Erryk, Jaehaera Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Joffrey Velaryon, Aegon iii, Viserys Targaryen ii, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower

Word count: 6.6k (oops)

The fuzzy feelings disappeared by late afternoon. A bright side was that I was absolutely starving when dinner time came. When I stood from my bed, I found I still had no pain. It was great to be able to walk across the room in less than five minutes.

I met Ser Erryk just outside my room. He greeted me as he always did, cheerful and just seemingly grateful. He spoke to me of the apparent menu for the night. We were to have braised goose with roasted chestnuts and cabbage.

“You like goose?” I asked him as we walked.

“I do, princess. It is greasy, so unappealing to some. I believe your mother is among them,” he said, smiling at me.

“It was a joke of sorts, between her and my father. A discussion they had before they were married. She likes to have it every so often as a way to remember him,” I told him.

It was true enough. The reason why Ser Laenor was who claimed us was apparent to me when I thought of him. He was never without the company of a male companion. When we first went to Dragonstone, he brought a young knight. Joffrey is named after a knight he knew in his youth, whose death devastated him in unimaginable ways. He loved them both deeply and in a way he could never love Mother.

It was known to her before they married, so when she spoke to him of the marriage, she assured him it would not impose on his life. She equated it to taste, saying like her, he preferred roast duck to goose. There was nothing wrong with that. Some people just like things and that was that.

After his death, I found Mother would request goose for our dinner. When I pointed out that he had never picked it out himself, she told me that was the point. The goose was meant to represent their effort in marriage, and for her it was a way to honor him. She had so much love for him, and he for her, even if it was not the type of love she shared with my blood father or even Daemon.

I truly believe they were soulmates. Most believed that soulmates were romantic, that it always ended with love and sex and all those things that made people gooey inside. There was not a person alive, though, that could convince me Mother and Laenor did not belong together in life even though they were not in love. You cannot have a best friend like that and tell me that the gods did not design you for that person.

Often I think how there was nobody better than Laenor to have been with her. Yes, my father and her loved one another in a way most wouldn’t understand. Yes, Daemon seems an equal match for her now. And yes, Laenor had loved his male companions the way he perhaps should’ve loved the one he married. But they understood each other on a fundamental level. They never begrudged one another, never showed anything to us that wasn’t pure love and respect for not only us but one another. Even if it were not romantic love, they were made to love each other.

“Ser Laenor was a good man. I think he would be proud of who you are,” he told me. “I truly believe that.”

Sometimes I didn’t know how to feel about Ser Laenor. He was not my blood. His opinions on me truly held no bearing in the grand scheme of things, as he was never who I had to impress. My inheritance would’ve never come from him.

But anytime I heard he would be proud of me, I wanted to beg for more. Blood or not he was my father. He was the man who claimed me. He loved me. How could I not want him to be proud of me?

“Thank you, Ser Erryk. I appreciate it,” I whispered, trying to not let my voice crack under the emotion.

We continued walking along without speaking any further. I could hear music and laughter as we approached the Small Hall. Don’t let the name fool you, though. Located in the Tower of the Hand, it had to be smaller than the Great Hall where the Throne sat, but this hall still held over two hundred people if so desired. With a family so large, it made sense to have our dinners here.

Erryk went to open the door but I reached out my hand to grab his before he could. The sounds of the ones I love being happy on the other side of this door terrified me. We were all mostly happy that night, the night I disappeared. At least we were for a moment in time.

My finger tips went numb and my bottom lip was trembling. It had been hard enough just being alone with those I’ve had time with already. But to see all of them, all at once, felt like it was an impossible task.

I had yet to speak to any of my brothers other than Jace. Trying to face the very distinct possibility of Little Aegon and Viserys disliking me felt like my stomach was being tied in knots. Joffrey was fourteen now, what if he didn’t like me either? Or if Luke was angry with me, somehow blaming me for being gone, I don’t think I could take it.

So much time had been lost. I was newly eighteen when I disappeared, now Jace and I were fast approaching twenty four. Aemond had been nineteen, Helaena twenty, Aegon twenty two, and Luke just fifteen. We all had so much time together. But Joffrey had only been nine, Little Aegon four, and Viserys only two. I had missed such a grand portion of their lives, even more when thinking of the year I was in King’s Landing beforehand, I didn’t think I could fit.

“We can go back if you wish,” Erryk said quietly to me. “I will make some excuse as to why you remain in your rooms. They needn’t know.”

“What kind of person is scared of their family for no reason?” I whispered to him, looking at him as a tear slowly rolled down my cheek.

It would maybe make sense if they had been terrible to me. But even the worst among them treated me as though I was golden. Alicent, who had undoubtedly been abhorrent to Mother and my brothers to the point she demanded all of us be brought to her when Mother was fresh from her labors, had loved me. I could distinctly remember sitting on her lap as a small child while my grandsire told Jace and I about the Kingdoms the would one day be ours.

“The first time Arryk and I went home after we were appointed to the Kingsguard, I was certain our parents would shut the door in our face,” he told me. “How could they not? I mean we were the only two heirs to our house and we both took an oath that forbade us from having lands, having a wife, having children. We effectively ended our house with us. But all our parents cared about was that we were happy and safe. It is not a ridiculous notion to fear what we do not know. Yet you cannot let your fears keep you from them.”

I could not look him in the eye. Part of me was so ashamed to feel as scared that I did. To me, it was a ridiculous notion. I’m the blood of the dragon, how could I fear anything?

He put his other hand over top mine, that still held onto him like my life depended on it. That was what let me meet his gaze. He truly looked at me with nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“When you were a girl, it is not that you were fearless. It is that you have always loved so fiercely your own fears did not stop you. When you sabotaged the soil stores so that the garden bugs would not die, you faced your mother, Queen Alicent, and your grandsire with tears in your eyes. You were scared of being in trouble, of having done something wrong. Even so, you held Helaena’s hand and explained why you did it. The night of Aemond’s injury, you were scared to anger everyone in explaining what happened. Yet, what mattered to you was the truth and so you told the truth,” he explained to me. “I offer again that I can take you back to your room and I will tell them you were not feeling well.”

The faith he had in the person I am felt comforting. At least there was one person who knew truly who I am. He had no reason to make me fit a certain mold. It was not like with Aemond or Jace in which he needed me to be this perfect representation of a person. He did not need me to understand the darkest parts of him like Aegon did. It was truly like he was a friend.

“Do not stray far from me,” I said quietly to him.

Releasing his hand, I stood straight and readied myself. He opened the door and stood to the side.

When I stepped into the room, for a moment nobody really noticed me and I just got to watch. Viserys, Little Aegon, and Maelor were all running around the room in a game. Mother and Alicent were speaking to one another, smiling. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were animatedly discussing something with Aemond and Helaena. Luke, Jace, and Aegon were all hunched over the table as they laughed about something. Joffrey was in the corner of the room sneaking a little cake.

They were all so happy. Was this truly what it was like all the time now? Had the wounds of the past been so forgotten we could live like this?

Surprisingly, the first to notice me was Jaehaera. She very obviously lit up upon seeing me and got up from her chair near immediately. Wasting no time, she went to the empty chair in between Mother and Alicent and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that had sat in it. It was then others took notice of her movements and all their eyes shifted from her to me.

When I began feeling the fear bubbling up inside me again and my fingertips once again felt numb, I just focused on Jaehaera. This little girl who was so happy when she noticed me, a little girl I adored so much, was now running to me with these flowers in her hand. They were a pretty assortment, consisting peonies, tulips, and lilies.

“Mumma says you like flowers so I picked the prettiest ones,” she said happily when she stopped in front of me. She very proudly held out her bouquet so that I could admire her work.

I smiled softly at Jaehaera as tears welled up in my eyes. “They are lovely, thank you little one,” I said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Carefully I took the bouquet from her and held it in my hands.

They were not flawless flowers. One of the peonies had not fully bloomed while another had already begun to lose its petals. The lilies had been slightly crushed against the weight of the other flowers. I noticed the tulips had little teeny insects crawling around on them, which Helaena and her children no doubt saw as an added benefit, and as such there were teeny holes in some of the petals. But there was not enough gold in the world that could convince me to rid myself of this bouquet. Despite the flaws, I could not think of it as anything less than perfect. Erryk took them in his own hand before he arranged for a serving girl to take them to my room and put them in water.

She took my hand in hers and began pulling me along to the table. Even in her excitement, she also seemed to be careful with me like everyone else had been.

“Do you want to sit next to me??” Jaehaerys said loudly when I was in arms reach of the table. It caused Jaehaera to stop her path, therefore stopping me.

“Inside voice, bubba,” Jaehaera said softly to him before looking at me. “Excuse him. He forgets we all have ears.”

“That’s okay, Luke was like that too when he was little,” I said to her. It caused them both to grin from ear to ear.

“Did you hear that Jae Jae? I’m like Luke,” he said, noticeably quieter this time, but just as excitedly.

“I am just glad someone else knows about brothers,” Jaehaera said with a giggle.

“I would like to point out that I had no choice but to be loud to make sure I was heard over Jace’s big mouth,” Luke said as he stood from his seat.

When Luke stood I realized he was taller than me. Not near as tall as Aegon, but a noticeable few inches. It caused a great stirring of emotions in my chest. I had anticipated my brothers growing taller than me, in fact it surprised me that Jace was only my height and not taller. Yet, not being here to notice it happening caused an ache.

Especially with Luke. He was only three years younger than me, so I did not remember his birth or his little years quite like I remembered Joffrey’s, Little Aegon’s, or Viserys’. That didn’t keep me from remembering bits and pieces, though. Like, I used to help Mother pick out the clothes he wore as a baby as though he was a doll. I snuck out of bed one night when he was a newborn so that I could sleep next to his cradle. I could remember the first time he got sick and, instead of going to Mother and Laenor, he crawled into bed between Jace and I and leaked snot all over my chest.

The bad parts, the good parts, all of it was not something I would trade for the world. Despite having more conscious thoughts when the younger three were babies, Luke was my baby. To me there was nobody better. He was as good and pure as a person could get. If Mother thought I was the best parts of both my fathers, Luke was the best parts of me. He was every good thing in this world rolled into the sweetest package.

“Now you can’t hold sweets over my head and keep me from getting them,” he said playfully.

“No, but I can still sit on your head until you cry,” I responded. My own ear to ear grin spread across my face. I did not care that it hurt my lip as the skin stretched. Luke was worth it.

“I cried one time! You were crushing my ear!” he defended adamantly.

“I maintain to this day that you should not have taken my book,” I told him with a shrug.

“Hadn’t he already handed it back to you when you sat on him?” Jace asked me.

“I don’t recall asking for your input, Jace,” I said quickly causing Luke to laugh.

Luke was truly a man now. His laugh was deeper, as was his voice. He was twenty now and by no means could he be confused as a child.

He wrapped his arms around me in a near bone crushing hug. Even with the pain shooting through my ribs, I could not ask him to ease up. The world felt right the moment he hugged me. Like the years had not passed without me.

I noticed he smelled like the sea. Salt water and open sky, with just a trace of the smell of the wood the ships were made of. If I had to guess, he spent a lot of time in Driftmark now, preparing himself for when Grandsire Corlys was no longer able to hold the Driftwood Throne. When he was little and we suffered the loss of both Ser Harwin and our Aunt Laena, he feared becoming Lord of Driftmark as he knew the death that would precede that moment. If he had been able to move past that fear, I was grateful.

“Are you a sailor now?” I asked as I pulled back from him.

“Only sometimes. Grandsire has spent two years teaching me how to,” he answered. He had a shy, goofy little smile on his face.

“And I would imagine he regales you with stories of the Velaryon blood ruling the seas every moment of it,” I joked.

“Would he be him if he weren’t the proudest man alive?” he asked.

My three Velaryon brothers and Mother all chuckled at that. Genuinely speaking I could not think of a prouder man alive. Our grandfather had held House Velaryon miles above any house, including Targaryens. I think it was because the Targaryens were dragonlords making him think we were handed power, whereas Velaryons seemed to build everything themselves. There was a pride to be held in that, of course. But Westeros was not conquered by shipmasters, now was it?

With this laughter, I took a moment to look around, turning around the room, and settling to look at Joffrey. Fourteen certainly was not the age of a man but compared to the nine year old I left behind he might as well have been. My little Joffrey, whose birth was the first I truly remember, making the three of us older ones so excited. We were downright annoying when it came to him.

Jace had decided we needed to pick the egg for him ourselves. Without uttering a word to anyone, we snuck away from the dragonkeeper charged in teaching us our lesson that day and delved far into the Dragonpit. Luke excitedly picked the egg from one of Syrax’s clutches. As the three of us had been given one, with only mine not hatching, we had to give the baby an egg that came from Mother’s dragon. Our father found us as we were trying to carry the red hot cauldron to the Keep. With his help, and the enlisted help of a few keepers, we awaited the arrival of the baby eagerly.

We took turns stoking the flames underneath it to keep it warm while we waited for Mother. And when she returned, followed closely by Laenor with the baby boy in hand, Luke and Jace both desperately wanted to get close to him. Laenor and father had to practically bat them away so that our baby brother could meet our father.

For myself, I can only remember looking at my perfect family. While in that moment I had not been told the truth of my birth, I knew. It was not so much a moment of realization that none of my brothers or I looked like Laenor, instead favoring Mother’s sworn shield. It was not even hearing the rumors and embodying them as a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. No, all it took was me seeing how Laenor yielded in that moment to Harwin and seeing the way this mountain of a man became so soft when gazing upon Joffrey for me to know. He was a man who was granted love in undeniable ways and he was a part of our family.

Joffrey looked the most like our father. The four of us all had his hair color and his complexion, of course. Jace and I got his eyes, according to Mother, and I could agree. The colors were the same on all four of us, yet we got the shape. I could see on Jace the little crinkles in the corners that our father had. Luke had his smile to the point that when our father died, I desperately worked to make Luke smile for days so that I could feel the embrace of the man who created me. Yet Joffrey had it all. His eyes, his nose, his smile, even the height and bulk of him. There were traces of Mother, like in the angles of his jawline or the placement of his cheekbones. But one could be forgiven if they thought Harwin Strong walked the halls of the Red Keep again when seeing Joffrey.

How cruelly ironic. The one who only got a few meetings with our father was the one who looked to be a trueborn Strong and not the dirty little secret I always felt like. The one who would never know our father or Laenor and the way they both loved us, who was robbed of the perfect family I loved so much, was everything I begged to be. A perfect embodiment of the father I prayed returned to me sat before me in the form of the last of his children.

“Joffrey, I believe Y/N would appreciate if you could come closer,” Aemond’s voice said from somewhere out of my view. I believed he may be behind me, with Jaehaera on my left and Luke still to my right. I could not be bothered to check.

Joffrey nodded and placed the sweet down on a nearby table before walking closer to me. He wiped his hands against his pants, highlighting to me that he was wearing Targaryen colors of black and not Velaryon ones. I could see the crumbs fall to the floor as he walked. It was almost enough to make me laugh.

“Have you been so short your entire life?” he asked when he stood in front of me. He was taller than Aemond even, wider around the middle, broader along the shoulders than Jace. It was terrifying when one realized most of that was probably muscle, and most likely he had more growing to do.

“I would like to point out I am perfectly normal height,” I said, huffing a bit. “You are just tall.”

“To you. To me, you are short. Perspective, sissy,” he said.

My heart caught in my throat. It wasn’t that I had anticipated him to forget me or all the time I had spent teaching him of the world. But hearing him call me sissy and confirming that I still had a place in his heart made my own ache in unexpected ways.

Wrapping my arms around his middle, I pulled him into a tight hug. It was a hug he returned eagerly, holding me as tight as I held him. Just as with Luke, I couldn’t be bothered to care about any of the pain coursing through my body.

Luke and Joffrey had so much of me in them. Luke was my baby and Joffrey was my sidekick. Where one clung to me the other did just the same. For the longest time you could not find me without them. I did everything for them to ensure their lives. Luke and I spent hours just standing on the deck of our ship so that I could help him overcome his fear of the sea. I was the one who taught Joffrey to read, and then taught him as much as I could of politics and history. Both of them spent so much time with me in the gardens of Dragonstone as I tended to the flowers.

When I finally convinced myself that I could let go without him disappearing, I pulled away from his hold. Concern drew itself onto his face. If the empty yet extraordinarily heavy feeling in my head and the fire spreading through my chest had caused me to look as I felt in this moment, I would imagine I’d look much the same as he did. In truth I could not care to look at everyone else. Leaning forward to lean against Joffrey, I tried to steady my breathing.

“Let’s sit you down,” Luke whispered from behind me. I can only assume I nodded as he and Joffrey both supported me to sit me in the chair between Alicent and Mother. The last note of music that filled the room just moments ago echoed from every wall before the room fell into silence.

“Y/N, you mustn’t overdo it, sweet girl,” Mother said quietly, pressing a cooled rag to my head.

“I couldn’t tell them to stop, mama. My babies still love me,” I whispered to her, gripping her wrist to still her hand. The suddenness of my movement caused me a blinding flash of burning pain.

“Perhaps we should order some milk of the poppy,” Alicent suggested, looking between Mother and me.

“No, no,” I begged her, tears springing to my eyes.

Let me be clear and say I understand the benefits of the medicine. It is extremely effective in easing pain and in large enough quantities, could incapacitate an entire Dothraki horde. Though I dare anyone to watch their grandfather wither to be but a living, skin covered skeleton and he can’t even acknowledge his breathing because he is so addled by the shit.

I am not stupid enough to think back on his life and legacy and think him a good King nor even a good father. But I do know, factually know, that he was a man who loved his family dearly. A man who was taken advantage of in his deepest grief and never fixed the mistakes made in those times. A man who deserved more than to die so slowly while his brain, his very capable and beautiful brain, wasted away because of the only treatment for his pain.

When you watch a man go from being able to tell you about the Kingdom he loves, that one day you will rule, to not even being able to remember your existence, it changes things. When you watch him become so frail and thin that being turned the wrong way breaks his bones, yet remain so puffy under the eye and in his fingertips because of the poison, you may refuse it too. His younger children may not have cared, of that I will not speak on. But I cared, and it terrified me.

Would he have been in so much pain constantly if he hadn’t taken it so regularly? What if he was being treated for an ailment that was caused by milk of the poppy? And if that was true, how much would it take before I could not exist without it?

“Y/N, you cannot live in this pain,” Mother said to me.

“I cannot live like that,” I corrected her.

“Your grandsire was very sick for a long time, you will heal in mere weeks. But you cannot heal if you live in this pain,” Alicent said. Her voice was just as quiet and soothing as Mother’s as she petted my hair.

Very slowly, I adjusted my body in my chair to look to Aegon. He was watching me with silent tears in his eyes. But when our wet gazes locked together he understood what I needed. He did not need anything else from me. He understood my pain as I did his.

After pushing himself to a stand from his seat, he wasted no time in getting to my side. All the while he was reaching in his sleeve to pull out the pouch with the biscuits. Within a moment he was by my side, kneeling to be able to look up at my face.

“Stars?” he asked me. It took me less than half a breath to know he was asking how severe my pain, if it was enough to make me see stars. He knew it went beyond feeling knives in my body but he could not tell further.

“Lightning,” I muttered to him.

He had once theorized the lightning that extended from the sky during the worst of storms would be the most painful thing to be hit by. It was on a late night adventure, one that quickly turned into a two day adventure, that he had dragged me on not long before I had Vhaela. We mounted Sunfyre together and flew to Harrenhal. Quick enough flying on Sunfyre, though it took nearly all night. When we had arrived, a storm had come overhead, and we watched as lightning struck the large castle no less than three times. The stone was surprisingly mostly unscathed, save for the burn marks permanently etched on its side. When we spoke of a human withstanding just one strike, he said you’d nearly die from the pain alone.

It was how I knew he would understand. This was not the pain I experienced falling from my bed when I was six. This was a burning, pulsating pain that caused me to lose parts of my sight. A pain so severe I could not breathe properly.

He helped me eat a significant bit more than what I had earlier. Mainly because every time I moved myself I was hit with another flash of pain. It was just easier to allow his help.

“The larger portion may not quicken the effects but it will help manage your pain better,” he said quietly to me. “Tell me what I can do in the meanwhile.”

“Stay right here and have everyone return to their joy,” I whispered to him as I took his hand. “At the least I wish to see everyone smile.”

He nodded softly and looked to Alicent. Within a few minutes, the music started back up and not long after that the chatter started up again. I would have to be oblivious to not notice the worried looks Mother and Alicent still gave me. Though those looks were nothing compared to the way Aemond and Jace were glaring at Aegon.

Genuinely speaking, it was a lot like watching children. It was as though Aemond and Jace had never once considered that anyone else would want to play their game. They only considered each other and knew what to expect from them. But now they viewed Aegon as a competitor.

Was Aegon a competitor? Sure he had said earlier how he loved me, that I was the only woman he loved. But he did not put his hand forward. He did not express a desire to be with me despite the love he held for me. I could no more count him as a contender for my heart as I could Ser Erryk.

Where Aemond and Jace looked on at him in anger, Aegon paid no mind. His eyes were focused solely on me. And every time I met his gaze, I gave him a small squeeze in the hand.

Six songs passed before I felt any relief. At first it wasn’t noticed until I could take a full breath. It was when I turned my head to watch as the food was brought in that it became clear that I could now manage. It seemed it became clear to Aegon, too, as he left my side and took his place back across from Luke.

Luke, Jace, and Aegon took the seats on the end of the table nearest the windows. Luke and Aegon on the very end, Jace beside Aegon. Joffrey took a spot next to Luke. Then beside Joffrey sat Aemond, and beside Jace there was Helaena. Next to Aemond was Alicent, with Jaehaera across from her. Then you had me and I was sat across from Jaehaerys. To my right was Mother, and across from her sat Maelor. There was two empty seats on Mother’s other side, and across from them was Little Aegon and Viserys. Then a singular chair that looked down the whole of the table sat on the very end, also empty, and that was closest to the kitchen.

Alicent lead us all in prayer. Truthfully, I probably should’ve paid more mind to the words she was saying. It mattered a lot to her, Helaena, and even Aemond. Yet, when I looked down the table and saw Aegon watching my every move, every thought from my head left. So instead, I looked directly at my plate.

The juices that flowed from the goose glistened in the candlelight that danced against every surface in stunning opposition to how the dark gravy absorbed light. The cabbage and roasted chestnuts sat to the side of it, looking decently appealing on their own. There was a basket of bread placed down for every four people. All of the adults, save Aegon and I, had a large cup of wine sitting in front of them. If Aegon and the children had the same as me, we all had water. Once Alicent was done saying her prayers, the only sound to be heard was all of us eating our food.

It was delicious. Though it was not a surprise to me, as the cooks here in King’s Landing had always been phenomenal. Maybe it was the fuzziness in my head that made it more apparent. Yet, it seemed more complex than normal. The meat was almost sweeter, the gravy with a level of saltiness that counteracted it perfectly. The chestnuts were almost like velvet in my mouth, creating a feeling akin to butter. Even cabbage, that I normally did not like, was something I would pick again and again.

“Did you try to come back?” A small voice asked. I looked up, only to see Viserys staring at me.

“Viserys,” Mother said firmly. It was her warning tone. Perhaps she did not think it proper for him to question me.

“I can’t remember,” I said quietly. “But I cannot imagine a reality in which I did not fight to return back to you all.”

“Is that why you are all beat up?” Little Aegon asked me.

“Aegon,” Mother said with the same firmness. I reached to take her hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze. She needed to understand that they were allowed to ask me, I could not fault them for being confused.

“Possibly. But I do not remember,” I told him.

“Do you remember anything?” they both asked at the same time.

“Not from when I was gone, no,” I whispered. “But I remember before I was gone. I remember loving the two of you so much. I am sorry I disappeared, and I am sorry that you both grew up without me.”

All of that was mostly true. I hated my disappearance, as it did take me away from everyone I loved. Yet to say I do not remember anything from the time I was gone may not be true.

In my thoughts, I could wade through the fog that the biscuit causes. Only in this feeling did I get any information from my brain. When I tried desperately to remember the last five years, there were only two things that my mind could conjure up. A glowing vial of shimmering red fire that I am near certain was a potion swirled in and out of my mind’s eye. And there was a distinct feeling loneliness, of knowing that where I existed was not where I belonged.

The shade of red of the potion was eerily familiar. While equating it to fire would be the right way to imagine the way that the liquid flowed, it was poor in grasping the color. One could tell me that someone was able to melt rubies into this vial and I would believe them. That was the only physical thing that was colored correctly.

Until I could explain more or had more answers, I would not say anything. With how desperate Mother and Aemond were for vengeance, giving them half answers could cause more damage that it would repair. It was not worth it.

“Do you want to come to our dragon lessons tomorrow?” Little Aegon asked.

Unable to verbalize my answer, I nodded. Spending time with my two littlest brothers felt like exactly what I needed. They may not be quite sure about me at all, but they were willing to give me a chance. I suppose that is all I could ask for.

The sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor brought my attention to the left side of the table. Aemond stood with his cup raised. My jaw tightened. The last time he gave a toast, he managed to call my brothers bastards while ignoring that it meant I too was a bastard. It caused a fight to break out, with Jace punching Aemond and Aegon slamming Luke into the table. I was not wanting a repeat and I doubt anyone else did.

“A toast,” Aemond said. “To the return of Ali. The Keep had truly existed in a darkness without you.”

A heat rose to my cheeks with his words. It was tame, I suppose, with what he could say. Although, I do wish he would just have not brought any further attention to me. I don’t think I would be able to say anything to him though.

“I wish to take this moment to make it clear,” he said. As always there was a confidence he held that I couldn’t shake. “Byka zaldrīzes, no longer do I wish to hide my affections. It is here and now that I am declaring my intention to marry you.”

My heart started skipping beats. While he had said it aloud to me, he had not voiced it to anyone else. And it wasn’t entirely like it was a secret, as he had always been rather obvious. With this declaration there was no longer a doubt about where I stood with him.

Jace stood up quickly, slamming his hands on the table as he did so. “She is my twin, Aemond, my betrothed. You do not get to decide such a thing,” he said angrily.

Aegon grabbed Jace’s shoulder and pulled him back into a sitting position. I was aware of Aemond smirking as he watched Jace. Leave it to him to make this a little game, a game which he is certain he will win.

“It is not your decision, either,” Aegon told him as though he were spitting poison at him. My jaw dropped slightly. It was not usual that I saw him actually angry.

“And you think you get any say?” Aemond asked his older brother.

“I think the two of you are so focused on this pissing contest that’s been going on since we were children you fail to realize that she is hurt,” Aegon shouted, standing up. Despite being shorter than Aemond and not as broad as Jace, he somehow made himself look larger. He made himself an unmoving force.

“I better than anyone know that she is hurt,” Aemond said darkly, to which Jace voiced the same sentiment.

“Are you both so truly lost in your desires that you are ignoring the anguish she is in? She caused herself so much pain she was barely conscious just so she could feel as though she still has a place! Do not pretend this is about anyone other than the two of you,” Aegon shouted.

“And what of you? What is your plan, dear brother?” Aemond asked, moving himself to appear larger.

The difference between them in this moment was fascinating. Aemond wanted to prove his dominance. He felt he had some claim to me just because of the love he and I share. With Aegon, though, it was because he wanted to prove nothing more than he was capable of protecting me.

Aegon turned to look at me. I could see him ease up almost immediately. It was like just the sight of me was enough to calm him.

“I am here however you choose to have me,” he said softly, addressing me directly.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 6)

Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), Aegon ii x reader, Rhaenyra x Alicent if you squint

Summary: You unlock new information as you descend for Dragonstone

A/N: sooo we are getting into the fun part (imo).. the character study and canon divergence! Just fair warning that this story is not going to go exactly like f&b or like the show. There will be elements taken from both. Can go ahead and let y’all know this will not be about who sits in the end, but more the chaos to get there. This also means different povs which is exciting. This chapter is sort of prepping everything for the next phase 😎

Fmo masterlist

“This seems like a convoluted plan, just for end goal for Aegon to be King,” Helaena sits in the middle of you chambers watching you pack.

“It is not about Aegon being king,” you reply, inspecting one your dresses. You scrunch you nose up and put it back in the closet. Perhaps it is best to stay away from green during your stay.

It may not be the story you told the Hand when he gave you the go ahead to leave. He thinks this whole plot is to lure Rhaenyra into a false sense of hope. Have her taste the thing she has wanted for so long before she fails miserably. This goes far beyond Aegon at this point. Him being king would just be a unexpected change. The rightful choice in the eyes of some. The crumbling of the realm in others.

“Upsetting the succession now could lead to upheaval,” Helaena does not seem to believe you.

“Do you really think I care about Rhaenyra’s reign when my kids are involved?”

It comes out more snappy than you intended. Helaena’s shoulders drop a bit. You know Helaena is just as protective over her kids as you are of yours. If there was a chance to strike the people who hurt them, she’d take the same shot. But, you know she is worried about what Aegon being king means for her family. You sigh and run your hand over your face. Putting down the clothes, you walk and sit next to her.

“We have given ourselves enough for this family and for the realm,” you whisper. “I am done with that.”

It sounds bratty, and selfish. You have given up so much, so has Helaena and Alicent, and yet you all are still expected to take things with a smile. Pretty, accommodating, and benevolent that you have the Targaryen name. Or in your case, that you can marry someone with that last name and everything that comes with it.

If you take the swing and miss, so be it. Sitting idle while those walk all over you has done nothing but put you and your children’s safety in danger. Your natural softness taken for weakness.

“And… Queen Helaena does not have bad ring to it,” you nudge her playfully, and she snorts in reply.

“Maybe Aemond will be king, and you’ll be queen,” it’s said in a teasing tone but then she grows a bit serious. “Aegon would probably give it up… if he got something in return.”

An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. Neither of them are ready to rule, but then again who is. Aegon would make a charismatic, even forbearing king; he has a disarming way about him that would work in his favor. Though, his inability to check his emotions would get in the way. He goes by the sound of his heart, and whims of his desires. Aemond, your painfully pragmatic husband, would rule dogmatically. But his inability to emote or to be empathetic would make him volatile… maybe even cruel.

Then you have Rhaenyra, the Realm’s Delight. Even from when you were young, all you ever heard was how lovely she is. Never how smart or capable she is to rule; it always went back to her beauty and her fiery nature. You still do not know if that was her unfortunate lot in life because of her gender or rather no one can praise her readiness, because she simply is not. And her case is not helped in your eyes with someone like Daemon in her corner.

One thing they do share is an incompetent father, so any hopes for learning how it is done was quickly diminished. Sitting on the Iron Throne may not be something that can be taught. Viserys came after Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s long reign. A reign considered to be a successful one, and Viserys seemingly picked up nothing about being proactive.

You take a good look at Helaena. If it someone you will whole heartedly miss while away, it is your good sister. Helaena, who is everything good about the Targaryen name: warm, loyal, and untamed. But also kind, and way more analytical than people give her credit for. Helaena the Dreamer… Helaena the Great.

“We could make it so you could rule.”

She gives your proposition a scrunched up face, and laugher. Sharp and bright. You know she has no desire to rule, but you can not help but think she would be good at it.

“If that is the case, you have to rule with me,” she takes your hand with a soft smile.

You imagine a world where all the men have rode off to fight their war. The women left to rule over a piles of ash, tired small folk, and elusive nobility. Two queens - just you, Helaena, and the children.

What a life to live.

A knock on the door interrupts Aemond’s reading.

“Do not come in,” he does not even look up from the book. Despite his wishes, a head of short silvery hair pops in. “I said do not come in.”

Aegon pays his brother no mind, breezily waltzing into Aemond’s study. He sits in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk with a sigh, as if he was begrudgingly summoned. Aemond tries to go back to reading, but it is hard to when his brother is staring at him expectedly.

Large, expecting eyes boring into him. He hates how much he looks like their mother in certain lights.

“What,” he finally snaps, and Aegon just smiles softly. In that warm way that makes people feel like they can let their guard down. Aegon always had way of making people feel like they are in on the joke he about to tell. Aemond has learned not to fall for the smile; he’s been on the other side of the joke too much to trust it.

“Are you going to see your wife off,” Aegon keeps his tone even, not giving anything away. His voice lifting a bit when he says wife.

Aemond tries equally hard not to let his mask slip. “No, she said it would better to do that behind closed doors.”

Something about him sending you off would defeat the purpose of it looking like you are upset enough to leave. Aemond had felt his eye glaze over a bit when you were explaining everything. When he first lost his eye, he would get head-splitting headaches. He hated taking milk of the poppy for them. Criston would tell him to turn his brain off, try not to think of the pain.

He finds himself still doing it to this day. Whenever he feels that tingle in the back of head, he clears his mind. For someone who constantly has things racing through his mind, he has gotten surprisingly good at it.

He had felt a cool hand on his forehead. You have that look in your eye you had said, hand traveling towards his cheek. You do that to Daella and Alaric too. He does not know if it a mother thing, or just a you thing.

It broke him out of his self-inflicted daze, just like how Aegon’s humming interrupts his thoughts of you now.

“I suppose that is best,” Aegon leans back in the seat casually. Aemond just sighs, waiting for the next stone to turn. He knows his brother did not come just to ask that especially when he could have just asked you himself.

Aegon seems to be lit from within. As each day passes, his brother shifts into a different person. The difference makes it hard for anyone to be upset at the cause of Aegon’s new attitude. A happy Aegon is not something anyone should take for granted.

“Is that all,” Aemond would like to get out of this conversation with his headspace in tact. The disarming charm of Aegon is often followed by deep disappointment.

Even with Aegon’s new disposition, the two of them still cannot see things the same. The deeply hidden flickers of hope Aemond has for reconcilement between him and his brother leave his body slowly but surely. It is better that way. Hold no hope, and the let down never comes.

The mirth that radiates off Aegon switches quickly.

“I just hope it was all worth it in the end,” his tone is sharp, and cold. Aemond instinctively flitches as Aegon’s large eyes bore into him. He hates how much Aegon looks like their mother in certain lights. It feels like he’s being scolded by her.

“But then again, how could it be? You have been living a great love affair that turns out to be a farce,” Aemond’s eye twitches a bit. “It is something I have always loved about you, brother. You always do things with all your might. No half battles for you; even in your fuck ups.”

And he hates how deeply his brother makes him feel. Skin crawling childhood memories rush over him. If it is one thing Aemond hates, it is the feeling of being backed into a corner.

“No whore, and wife and children to descend away with our sister and her bastards.”

For a moment, Aemond thinks about lunging over the desk at Aegon. But he knows exerting strength over Aegon does nothing now, not the way it did many moons ago when Aemond had his growth spurt. Just another notch in the post of things that made the brothers resent each other.

That reason seems silly compared to the others.

He knows Aegon is not just doing this for you, he enjoys the taunting in the way only a brother would. The same way only siblings would worry and focus on what one has over the other. A childish mindset that neither of them grown out of unfortunately.

They will always measure themselves against each other. Aegon with Aemond’s relationship with their mother. Aemond watching Aegon squander and relinquish any want for power or duty that could be attached to his name. And now you.

The words crawl up Aemond’s throat, and itch his tongue. He wants to say it so badly, what he has been thinking about ever since a couple of nights ago.

“You never even wanted her till she was upset with me,” Aemond blurts. He sounds like child. How he did when he would go to Alicent, near tears, when he was younger.

When he was young, he dreamed for the day to be older, more reassured, not to feel so small. Now he is older, and free feeling he wanted still had not come. Sometimes Aemond has to pinch himself. On the arm, on his thigh, or even on the stomach; he must remind himself that he was not one and ten anymore. He is a man grown.

Some days the pinching works. Or he hears Alaric’s babbling in the room, and he brought back to reality. He is painfully grounded to the situation when he looks at his children. Other days, like today, he thinks of you and prays for the days when he was younger and his biggest worry was gaining a dragon.

A thought he never expected to have.

Occasionally, he wishes he were Helaena. His sister has expressed the grief that comes with her visions, but Aemond would gladly switch places. If it is one thing their foolish father was right about, it is that the power of dragons is nothing compared to the power of prophecy. A dragon cannot makeup for the pure magic that has been left behind. Alys taught him that as well.

He pinches himself extra hard at thought of her.

If he could master the magic of his ancestors, he could go back and change so many things. He wonders how much good he could do… or how much damage.

Aegon does not bother to give Aemond a rebuttal to that comment. Just lets the easy smile he had on before reappear on his face. He can tell by the look on Aemond’s face that he is unraveling. Aegon might gotten their mother’s face, but Aemond got her ability to be a prisoner to their own thoughts.

“We just better hope not a single hair on her head is harmed while she is there.”

Aegon gets up and leaves after that. They important part is left unsaid and implied. I’ll come after you if she gets hurt. This is your fault.

Aemond knows his brother will just be one person in a line of people who would want his head if this all blows up in your face. That is alright.

Perhaps the brothers do have one thing in common. If something does happen, he just might beat everyone to the punch on that one.

You had expected Otto to tell Alicent about you going to Dragonstone. But, the worried look she gave you when you mentioned it told you otherwise.

It affirmed to you that he was going to leave his daughter in the dark for as long as possible. You could not decipher if it was for her feelings and safety or because he knew Alicent would shut down any activity that could be seen as treasonous to Rhaenyra’s claim.

It took Rhaenyra, who Alicent had convinced to stay a few more days, telling her that it was Baela and Rhaena’s idea to calm Alicent’s anxious attitude. Reiterating that it would be nice to have you and Daella around to balance out the male energy at Dragonstone. The lie slid out of Rhaenyra’s mouth with ease. She had given you a knowing look.

You knew better than to think Rhaenyra would tell Alicent it was because of Aemond, the reason she believes, but the easy nature in which she deceives Alicent does make you sad.

The easy nature in which everyone deceives Alicent makes you sad. And now even you are not above that.

To get rid of that sick feeling in your stomach, you convince yourself Alicent knows better than to believe everything that comes out of Rhaenyra’s mouth. The same way you believe Rhaenyra knows better than to tell Alicent the whole truth. This is how their relationship is. Half truths and arguments. Pining and pushing. You can tell by the way they smile at one another that in the end it will always be them for each other; lies and all.

Sadism and Masochism in a different kind of way.

“The King and I will miss seeing the kids,” Alicent remarked.

You had to hold back a grimace. Daella and Jaehaera would often go and see their grandsire, at his behest. Hear him ramble on and on about whatever he could remember that day; often old histories. Daella has told you she hated it because he ‘smelled foul’. The statement had made Aegon cry with laughter.

Viserys had only seen Alaric twice since his birth. The first time you had to drag Aemond with you. Juggling two big babies that day.

You had watched Aemond bite back a sneer the entire time. Even Alicent made a face when Viserys mumbled something about Alaric already having a warrior spirit like his father. You supposed you cannot blame them for their apprehension. The jovial tone of his voice nothing like what Aemond heard growing up. It only leaves a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth.

You wanted to say Viserys’ delusions were illness driven, only getting worse with age. But he has always underestimated the damage he did with his kids. Viserys underestimates a lot of things.

The second time he saw Alaric, your sweet boy had decided to spit up all over the King. Then it was Aemond’s turn to laugh.

Viserys is so out of the loop. He seems to think your trip to Dragonstone was a testament to his grand showing for Rhaenyra. That his dinner speech moved you to the point of wanting to connect to the other of your husband’s family.

It is assumed that using Baela and Rhaena as a cover was not fully convincing to Alicent.

“Space can be a treasure at times,” Alicent whispered to you, squeezing your hand. “A new beginning once you get back.”

All you could do was hum in acknowledgment and try to smile. You cannot help but wonder how Alicent will respond if you get tangible proof that Rhaenyra had something to do with Alys. Would it ruin the move to reconciliation? Would it even matter by the time Rhaenyra is to take the throne?

If you cannot dwell too much; one foot in front of the other. The preparations to set sail with Rhaenyra were all prepped.

Your night was interrupted by a knock at the door. The knuckles on the door tapping to the tune of a Braavosi song you like. Aegon.

You have to bite back a smile. The two of you have not talked since the night of the dinner. It is a strange ordeal. Going from purposely ignoring each other’s existences to now a few days of not speaking feeling foreign. He sticks his head in with a sheepish look.

Men will always come back with their tails tucked between their legs when they think it is worth it

Your mother’s words playing your head. Instead of focusing Aegon, your mind drifts to Aemond. You know it is a point of contention for them, but it is hard not to compare them. Especially when they act so differently at times. To see Aemond grovel would be a sight. Perhaps he has before… just not for you.

He says nothing when he comes in, eyes fluttering over your pale blue night gown. You sigh, tying your robe around you. For all Aegon can be when he tries - sweet, observant, loyal to a fault. He’s still same boy in his bones; easily swayed by pretty things.

“Yes, Aegon?”

He still does not say anything, instead, he pulls a small box out of his pocket and hands it to you. Shy like a child trying to evade a scolding. You narrow your eyes at him, but still open the box.

Inside was dainty chain silver. Hanging from it was a bright yellow stone surrounded by pale pink ones. You shoulders slump. It’s beautiful, and entirely too much. Much like the man who is trying to give it to you.

“Is this your attempt at an apology,” you give a weak laugh.

“No,” he waves that notion off. “I am not going to apologize for vocalizing how bad of an idea I think this is. Though I know there is no stopping you once you set your mind to something.”

You know it would be hypocritical to judge Aegon and Aemond’s paranoia towards their older sister. She has not given them a reason to have faith in her. Neither has their uncle, who only seems to show up in moments of chaos. Those feelings are reciprocated by Rhaenyra and her family towards them.

“Think of it as more of a promise,” he walks towards to you, and the box suddenly feels like it weighs as much as a horse.

Chewing on the side of you cheek, you shake your head. “I cannot accept this Aegon. You are very kind but… I cannot.”

You never want to think the worst of people; even Aegon, who you have an admittedly rocky past with. It has never been your nature, till recently. Gifts leading to promises; promises leading to expectations you don’t know if you can handle. The affection of people in the Red Keep, especially the men, constantly wane.

It is hard not to blame your mother for how you feel right now. For every drop of wisdom she instilled in you, she left touches of fragility and fear. She made sure to reiterate the importance of having powerful people, specifically powerful men, in your corner but never explained what do to when the debt comes due.

It may not be what Aegon meant but these thoughts plague you often as loyalties shift. Even the most attentive, and helpful people want something in return. What happens when those expectations can not be met? Does the goodwill dry up?

Sensing your nerves, gently takes your wrist pulling you closer. “You are not alone in this. We are all here if you need to get out of there,” he pauses for a moment before cracking a smile. “Even Aemond would hop on Vhagar if something happened.”

You raise a brow, not knowing if this is him trying to cheer you up or if he genuinely believes it. You actually think the old beast probably likes you more than your husband most days. You hold back a shudder thinking about your first meeting with Vhagar. Beady eyes following you before huffing in approval. You remember the smell of sheep on her breath.

“She likes you!” Aemond seemed so happy she did.

Things were simpler back then. Mindless courting and no pain. You had fooled yourself into thinking everything would work itself out.

As if he heard you two speaking about him, the sounds of heavy boots echo through the halls.

As if a spell had been broken, Aegon lets go of your wrist giving you.

“Remember aim for the jugular or heart, and drive through.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. Criston had preached no mercy during their lessons, and it seems to be the only thing that stuck with Aegon.

Aemond interrupts you two by coming in, stopping in his tracks when he sees you both. He blinks blankly before sighing and going over to sit.

“Have fun with that,” Aegon whispers, before leaving.

You realize he never takes back the necklace. Think of it as a promise. He never told you what that promise was.

———

When Aemond was young, he over heard his grandsire speaking to his mother about him.

“You coddle him too much Alicent,” his voice gravely. “He is never going to grow up hiding beneath your skirts. It’s probably why he had not gained a dragon yet.”

She just stood and took it because that is what his mother always does when it comes to her father, or with Viserys. She had learned the art of taking everything and internalizing it. And then she wonders why he children do the same.

Aemond is master of it. He adds to the list of things he has grown quite good at. Along with his training with the sword, and his ability to retain things he learned through reading. Showing any emotion has only failed him over the years.

The only time he finds reprieve is at night.

The dreams tend to be the same each night. You standing over him, Dark Sister in hand, and unbridled hatred in your eyes. Aemond cannot call them nightmares in good faith; he finds them too entertaining for that. He does not know how you got the sword, but that is just another exciting part about the dreams. His mother did always say he had a morbid sense of humor.

The image of you having blade to him breaks up the monotony of life. In fact, he is sure he likes dream you more than the one he sees everyday. Dream you lacks the shiny luster that the real you carries. There is something so unapologetic about the look of disgust on your face. Some nights you slit his throat, quick and to the point. A merciful kill. Other times you take his other eye. The chambers ablaze; he sees and feels the heat before everything goes dark.

“Aemond, are you listening to me,” you sigh, breaking him out of his thoughts.

All he can do is look at you. You look ethereal, back lit by the fires throughout the room. Unwavering stares is all he can give you these days. In the early days of your marriage, you used to look away when the looks were to much. Now, you just stare back; eyes tired yet soft. Perhaps it is the inability for you harden yourself that makes the dreams so welcomed. He selfishly wants you to debase yourself the way he has. Aemond knows it is in there, but you are too smart to let it show in that way.

Maybe you will come back from Dragonstone, with untamed loathing in your heart, and Dark Sister attached to you. The spirits of the mad Targaryens that roam Dragonstone compelling you to snap. The dream you and the real one will merge into something terrifyingly beautiful.

What a way that would be to go.… in fire and blood.

The departure from King’s Landing went as smoothly as you could hope. Alicent and Helaena saw you off with sad smiles. The ship pulled off, and it felt like a momentary breath of relief. Sometimes you felt locked away in the King’s Landing

“Quite watchful, is she not,” Rhaenyra laughed. At first you thought she was speaking about Alicent. You turned towards the Red Keep to see Vhagar flying a comfortable distance behind. “She will turn back, right?”

You nod perplexed, watching as Daella waves at Vhagar.

You think back to laughing when Aemond asked if Daella would miss him, and she replied with a shrug and reminded him to feed Vhagar extra sheep while she is away. His sour disposition melts when she gives him a kiss on the cheek before she sprinted to say goodbye to her cousins. You try not to shift awkwardly when he kisses you on the cheek and tells you to be safe.

Eventually Vhagar does turn back, after circling the ship a couple of times.

You go to put Alaric down for a nap in one of the bottom room. When you first had him, his silence used to worry you. Often you found yourself leaning over his cot to see if he was still breathing. He sleeps like the dead, and stares as if he knows something you do not. The stare would be slightly menacing if it was not attached to such a cute face.

Ser Quinton comes in, and quietly closes the door. He looks as uneasy as you feel. He seems to share the same skepticism everyone has about this little getaway.

“You were right about Jayne,” his voice is low as he sits on the bed next to you. “She about the tunnels. Said she was a disciple of someone named Mysaria.”

The name is so familiar but you can’t put your finger on it.

“How did you find that out?”

“Do you really want to know that,” he grimaces. The last time you saw Jayne, Quinton had lied to her and said the Queen wanted to see her. You are sure she went to the dungeons, where all the people who are accused of treason go. Your heart feels heavy at the thought of her being tortured.

It was a hard pill swallow. Jayne had been with you since Daella was born. How long had she been watching you for?

“I need you to promise me something,” you whisper to him. “If anything were to happen, I need make sure the kids are you first priority. Their safety is of the upmost importance… even if it means leaving me behind.”

Quinton frown deeply. “I am your protector, I would n-“

“And as my protector, I am asking you do this for me. Think of everything you feel for me, and do this please.”

You squeeze his arm. After a moment of silence, he nods solemnly.

You know when you have reached Dragonstone because smell is like nothing you have encountered before. Putrid almost. You thought the Red Keep was as somber as a place could get; you were terribly wrong.

The bright look that crosses Rhaenyra’s face makes you jealous. You often envious of the way the Targaryens around you moved. Viserys, despite being the king, had little care for things that did not benefit him. Aemond saunters into rooms like he owns it, Aegon followed his own rules to a fault. Rhaenyra seems to revel in the privilege that came with her name. Even Helaena had came into her own, embracing the things people see as odd.

You felt like your good was not good enough, but you think of what your father would tell you when you were young.

The best people are often underestimated, use that to your advantage.

And use it you will.

Taglist: @afro-hispwriter @blazzlynch @thenovelcarnival @lyra689 @savinasavers @cruelmissdior @lunablade @minttea07 @shintax-error @queenofshinigamis @httyd-marauders

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Idk how this even works properly so correct me if I did something wrong

14! Gn reader with Kenji, and Kyoka in Teyvat

If you were not alone

Part II

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Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Character: Self-Aware! Platonic! Kenji Miyazawa, Self-Aware! Platonic! Kyouka Izumi

Reader: 14! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

____

🐄🐰 One moment you, Kyouka and Kenji were going back home from school.

The second moment you three were in a middle of Chinju Forest.

Kenji took the sudden trip better, than Kyouka and you. The sun was shining, wind was blowing, and, according to your knowledge about the game, Teyvat's people are more or less friendly, and there are travelers from another world.

So, after getting some rest, you three will go to the nearest city and search for dimensional travelers. Everything will be alright.

Besides, local tanukis are so cute, and Ioroi was fun to talk to.

Kenji's optimism was contagious. He does have a point. You aren't looking for troubles. Besides, Traveler and Alice are friendly. They won't hurt you three.

With your spirit up, you started your journey to Grand Narukami Shrine. In Guide, Alice mentioned, that she knew Yae Miko. And Yae did publish said Guide. Maybe, kitsune knew, how to reach Alice.

During your walk, you looked up. And a chill run down your spine. Celestia was gone. A clod, sticky horror squeeze your heart. You knew from somewhere, that it was wrong.

Something terrible has happened.

You decide to think about it when you reached Shrine. You will have time.

🐄🐰 You were lucky. Yae Miko was here, in the shrine. Everything looked normal. Kenji, with big smile on his face, walked towards her, asking for help. But then Yae Miko looked at you. Disbelief, horror, worry. Before someone could react, Yae dragged you three inside the shrine's building.

When the door closed behind you, Yae grabbed your cheeks, looking at your face at every angle. You notice, how Demon Snow appeared behind Kyuoka, drawing its sword.

Yae's voice was trembling.

"Don't waste your power on me, child. Soon you will need it to protect yourselves."

🐄🐰 During Yae's explanation, you felt, how Kyuoka and Kenji sat closer to you. Like they were afraid, that you will be attacked any moment now. Because of orders of 'Creator'.

Yae explained, that just few hours ago, that Creator preformed some sort of ritual. A ritual of finding sinners… People, who looked similar to Creator. Who looked similar to you. And if someone sees you, they would attack. Would try to capture you.

Yae secretly get you away from Narukami Shrine. You weren't safe in Inazuma. Still, Yae asked you to stay here. Until she gets answer from Alice and her whereabouts.

"Run, children. Alice the adventurer might help you. If you managed to get to her, she might find a way to return you home."

When you left, she sent a letter to Alice. The only thing that was left is wait.

🐄🐰At the end of the week, you three were still in Inazuma. And you have a bunch of people on your tail.

And you were worried. Mostly, about Kenji and Kyuoka. They were your friends/adopted siblings. And they were protecting you. Kenji was starving himself, afraid of not being able to help during attack. Kyuoka was constantly using Demon Snow to search for dangers. And it looked like, using their abilities, tried them.

You tried to help as much as you can. You took cooking and keeping camp warm and clean on yourself. You insisted on guarding the camp at night, letting Kyuoka and Kenji sleep.

Despite two of you having abilities, you were just three teens. And you three missed home and the rest of BSD's Cast.

🐄🐰 Second week were better. Thanks to Kenji's kindness, you now were hiding in Yoimiya's house. Who could think, that playing with local kids will let you find help?

Now you were more or less protected.

Kyuoka, Kenji and you even met Itto and Arataki's Gang. They were a loud, but friendly bunch.

🐄🐰 One day, Kuki brought a letter from Yae. Alice will wait for you in Fontaine. She even found a way for you to get here.

After tearful goodbye from Yoimiya and her father, you three, under protection of Itto and his gang, reached Ritou's Island.

Where Chiori was waiting for you.

"So, Creator want to capture three teens? How low Teyvat will sink, I wonder? Okay, kids, let's do some dress up."

🐄🐰 For the next few days, you, Kenji and Kyuoka, dressed in Fontaine clothes, were pissing as Chiori's workers, who were helping to get silk from Inazuma to Fontaine.

Trip were doing fine.

You were so close to getting home.

You just need to find Alice.

🐄🐰In her letter Alice mentioned, that she attends all performances in Opera House. Chiori managed to get tickets for three of you on one of it.

You three celebrated by going to the wilderness and having a picnic.

Unfortunately, Lyney and Lynette saw you three. And Demon Snow, who helped you to cut food. They knew what they must do. Father will be proud.

🐄🐰It happened one week ago. One week ago, when during the preference, Lyney and Lynette blew your cover. One week of captivity. One week of being separated from Kenji and Kyuoka. One week of Alice trying to get you out of captivity. One week of Chiori being under arrest.

You, tortured and bloodied, were standing before Ivory Throne. Lyney and Lynette were standing near Creator's throne. Gold medals were shining on their chests. Creator, your exact double, were grinning. They finally got you.

You heard the sounds of chains. You barely managed to make out Kyuoka's and Kenji's silhouettes.

Creator wanted to break them. Show your broken body.

Big mistake.

You heard screams. Sounds of stones crumbling.

Kenji's growling.

"I must help [Y/N]!"

Kyuoka's hissing.

"Demon Snow, destroy everyone, who hurt [Y/N]!"

You wanted home so bad. It was so wrong, to see Kyouka killing again. To see Kenji angry.

You wished, you three would be home.

Portal opened under your feet.

______

👘🗡️🌂 Fukuzawa Yukichi and Koyouou Ozaki weren't sleeping. They were discussing, what they should do next, trying to find your three.

👘🗡️🌂 Their train of thoughts was interrupted by a loud rumbling, coming from the barn. It was loud enough to woke everyone's up.

👘🗡️🌂 In the barn were you three, and two strange people. Kyouka was holding her knife above Lynette, while Kenji was trying to throw a bolder at Lyney.

And you were laying on the floor. Wounded, but alive.

👘🗡️🌂 It took Dazai's nullification, Fukuzawa 'turning off' Kyouka's and Kenji's abilities, Fukuchi's and Tetchou's strength to drag Kyouka and Kenji from Lyney and Lynette.

They will be dealt later. Now, you three are main priority.

______

👘🗡️🌂🐄🐰You three still were dealing with aftermath of Teyvat's events. You were guarding Kenji's and Kyouka's rooms at night. Kenji refused to eat. Kyouka was using Demon Snow to patrol the house. You three were now under Kunikida's watch. He was making sure, that you three were eating and sleeping. Fukuzawa and Koyouou were staying near. To console you, to protect you. They will make sure, that you will never need to be afraid of loosing your lives.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[tickletastic]

Okay, But Who Do You Main in Mario Kart?

Fandom: DC

Ship: JayRoy, Birdflash

Summary: Dick just wants to play Coin Runners, and Jason knows not to fight when Dick has that look on his face. Based on my belief that I could guess who someone mains in Mario Kart based on their personality, and this incredibly clever and big-brain anon. (ps, Dick would totally main Cat Peach)

“I fucking hate Coin Runners,” Jason sighs, watching his older brother choose the next game for them to play, “can we just do another race, dickhead?”

“No,” Dick whines, “I love Coin Runners and we haven’t even played once.”

“Yeah,” Jason groans, “because it sucks.” He looks towards Roy in hopes that he’ll choose a side, but is just met with an apathetic expression. 

“I’m staying out of this,” Roy shrugs, “but your team kind of sucks at mini games, Dick. Why don’t we go back to the races?”

“Hey!” Wally gasps, sending a scandalized look in Roy’s direction, “half of our team sucks, that’s an important distinction.” 

Dick’s jaw drops, pausing his character selection to gape at his boyfriend. “It’s not my fault you decided to take the opportunity to try out new characters!”

“Well it was either choose a new character and have an excuse for losing, or have to admit that my boyfriend absolutely sucks at Mario Kart!” Wally exclaims, gesturing vaguely towards the screen. 

Just as they fall into a rhythm of back-and-forth bickering, the front door opens down the hall, the chattering of Steph, Mia, Cass, and Donna floating through the foyer. Quick, quiet footsteps dash towards the living room, and Steph pokes her head in, looking warily towards the couch. “We brought Dunkin.”

“Fuck yes,” Jason exclaims, rising from the couch to grab a coffee, Roy trailing behind. 

Wally and Dick stay on the couch, customizing their cars as they wait for Roy and Jason, that is, until Donna’s head is suddenly popping into the room, “doughnuts too!” They’re in the kitchen, quite literally, in the blink of an eye, raiding the box of doughnuts while Mia, Cass, and Jason talk about what they’ve been reading. Mia is only interested in talking about Tennessee Williams, ‘going through a phase’ as Roy describes it, and Cass divulges that she’s been in a reading slump. Jason could only suggest Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the only book he’s read in the last two weeks, courtesy of a special request from Lian. 

Dick and Wally get wrapped up talking to Donna about some off-world issue that Diana, Clark, and Hal had been tending to, and whether Dick should bring back the discowing costume. The opinion is a hard, resounding no, but Dick still argues for giving it a new life, now that they’re in a 70s resurgence. By the time Wally and Dick return to the living room, Jason and Roy have already resettled, Cass and Mia also now in the room, sitting on one of the far couches while contemplating joining the game. 

When Dick finally sits on the couch, he notices that the game has been changed; Coin Runners was ended prematurely, and Jason and Roy are in the character selection for a 200cc race. They have already chosen their characters, Wario and Dry Bones, and are waiting for Dick and Wally to select their own. Dick glares Jason’s way, ignoring the impatience on his younger brother’s face.

“Just choose Cat Peach so we can play already,” Jason chides, jokingly grabbing for Dick’s controller on the coffee table. Dick intercepts him, attempting to shoo him away by poking him in the ribs. Jason shies away with a grunt, quickly recoiling out of reach. When he’s upright and no longer as vulnerable, he locks eyes with Dick, eyes squinted. 

Dick grins back, mischievous and lightly malicious, quite Chesire cat. Jason knows exactly what the look means, and before Dick can even move a finger he’s catapulting himself over the back of the couch, making a mad dash down the hall. “Oh fuck no.”

Dick makes chase, giggling maniacally and frantically as he follows Jason’s loud footsteps out of the living room. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Jason yells as he’s backed into a corner, seriously considering whether it’s worth it to scale the wall next to the stairs to get to the second floor. He decides that it is, throwing himself as high as he can get, hoping to grab onto the railing. He falls back down with a thud when Dick grabs him around the ankle, tackling him to the ground. “Fucking ow, dickhead.”

“This is all on you, Jaybird. We could’ve just played Coin Runners,” Dick teases, trying to grab Jason’s wrists as Jason bucks wildly. “Hey, Wally?” Dick calls down the hall, back towards the living room. 

“Yeah, babe?” Wally responds.

“I need your help!”

Wally is next to him before he even finishes the sentence, grinning down at Jason and Dick grappling. Jason grunts when Dick manages to gain the upperhand for a moment, stradling Jason, and Dick is quick to tell Wally to grab Jason’s hands. 

“Fuck, no, West, I will kill you,” Jason threatens with a glare. He considers, for a fraction of a second, calling Roy, but that would be admitting defeat. He continues to fight until Wally shoots a slowly vibrating finger towards Jason’s ribs, Jason squealing and tensing enough for Wally to scoop both wrists into his hands. “You’re so dead, you’re not living to see tomorrow, West.”

Wally pales, but plays it cool, “you know, I’m not too worried. You don’t look all too threatening right now.”

“I promise, it will be slow and-” Jason clamps his mouth shut, biting hard on his bottom lip. Dick had brought his hands up to dig into Jason’s sides, going from slow, teasing circles to spidering in with his fingertips, switching at random intervals. 

“C’mon, Jaybird, I know you wanna giggle. I see the smile peeking out,” Dick teases with that disgustingly endeared voice he does when he’s pulling the Big Brother card. 

Just as Jason gets used to Dick’s maddening pattern, Dick reaches a hand back and squeezes Jason’s hip, and Jason snorts loud enough to be heard all the way down the hall, the dam finally breaking. 

“You forget,” Dick grins, “I am your older brother, I know exactly how to get you to break.”

“Fuc- fuhuhucking- no,” Jason cackles, throwing his head back with another snort when Dick continues to squeeze. He makes a show of pulling at his arms, but Wally can tell its nowhere close to Jason’s full strength, something Dick knows all too well. 

When he’s satisfied with how many snorts he’s produced from Jason, and satisfied with Jason’s embarrassment about his uncontrollable snorting, Dick’s fingers move to Jason’s stomach, pinching the skin on both sides of his belly button. Jason squeals, bucking up and down as he starts to giggle, uncontrollably. Jason would have taken this to his grave if it weren’t for Dick, if it weren’t for his older brother analytically conjuring the most embarrassing reactions he can from him. 

“You know, if I didn’t value my life, I would say that this is almost cute,” Wally chirps, and Jason squeals out a string of curses and threats. Wally thinks he can make out something about time travel, and something about Barry and space, but it’s not as scary when Jason is red in the face, giggling uncontrollably as his older brother tickles his tummy. 

When Jason feels his shirt move up, seeing the evil glint in Dick’s eyes, he absolutely screams, bucking as hard as he can, desperately squirming to get away from his brother’s rapidly descending face. “Dihihick, no! Yohou’re so dead! I sw-” Jason cuts himself off with a screech, trying to melt into the floor to get his stomach away from Dick’s lips. Dick just laughs along, giving him a few more before relenting. 

“I’m not done just yet,” Dick teases, “one more spot, Jaybird.” Dick looks up from his brother for a minute and notices Roy leaning against the wall, trying to hide his endeared grin at the state his boyfriend is in on the ground. Dick starts to rub soft, ticklish circles under Jason’s belly button, grinning when his brother starts to giggle again. “Oh look, we even have an audience.”

Jason hadn’t realized his eyes had been screwed shut, but he opens them quickly, looking up at Roy, mortified. “Dihihick, you’re going to die.”

“Well, yeah, we all are,” Dick says in a sing-song tone, “but you first.” With that, his fingers dart up to Jason’s armpits, and his younger brother shrieks, trying to jacknife away from too all-too-knowing fingers. “Good to know this is still your worst spot!” 

Jason tries to dispute it, tries to continue to threaten his brother, but it all tickles so much, and his body feels like a live wire. Something about Dick tickling him always made it so much worse, it made everything tickle so much more, and he always felt completely helpless up against Dick’s Big Brother Skills™ and Big Brother Tactics™. 

Wally suddenly lets go of Jason’s hands, and Jason manages to wrestle Dick away from him, rolling onto his stomach and giggling into his arms. 

“You broke my boyfriend, Dickie,” Roy says, jokingly upset. 

“Nah, he’s just fine,” Dick waves off with a grin, “he’ll sit there and giggle for a few minutes, and blush for the rest of the day, but he’ll survive.” 

Jason groans, something so incredibly embarrassing about how Dick cannot only precisely predict Jason’s reactions, but also the aftermath of his attacks. He tries to sit up, but just continues to giggle, proving Dick’s point as he brings his hands up to cover his face. 

Dick ruffles Jason’s hair, standing next to Wally, “hurry up, we’re playing Coin Runners.”

Jason just groans, flipping him off as Dick and Wally walk back towards the living room. Roy moves closer to Jason, kneeling down so he can see his face. He puts a single finger under his chin and leans in, placing a kiss just on the corner of Jason’s mouth. “That was really cute.”

Jason’s blush grows hotter, glaring at Roy. “Don’t think you’re safe, West is the top of my hit-list, but you’re not too far down.”

[reginarubie]

When HotD got out everyone was like Oh, Daemyra is the new, improved Jonerys with good storyline

And I didn’t give it too much attention, you know I stay mostly in my line and don’t mess around with shit that doesn’t interest me (like Jonerys) but now that I think of it…

I’ll do you all one better (and maybe I am late at the party as always, because I can’t be the only one noticing this)

Jonsa is the reversed, evolved, less entitled (both Jon and Sansa start as spoiled characters but have their entitlement beaten out of them pretty soon, and we love them for it), more duty-oriented (thank you Ned) Daemyra.

I mean all signs point in that direction and I see you 👀 GRRM pushing the Jonsa agenda further on!

And now I’ll tell you what sources I have to base my logic on (and maybe I am wrong ey, but I think it fits Jonsa more, as of now, though Martin could totally disprove me going the other way confronted to the way the show concluded knowing his ending).

So, at the beginning of the story, Robb becomes king in the North by popular demand.

In the first episode Viserys becomes heir (and later king) by popular demand.

Both Robb and Viserys inherit their position by their much beloved predecessor (Jaehaerys and Ned) and both are ‘named/appointed’ by a conclave of lords/ladies in the Riverlands ffs.

Both Viserys and Robb end up planting, with their own politics, the seeds of the shit storm that almost threatens to destroy their family after their death.

Robb marries Jeyne (Talisa in the show) instead of the Frey betrothed thus snubbing the Freys and going back on his word. He dies without an heir leaving the North in shambles when he had been a step from winning the war.

Viserys names Rhaenyra heir and then — instead of marrying the Velaryon girl — marries Alicent and has more children knowing that if they were male it could cause disrupt with the line of succession.

Both are idolised after their death — Viserys taking the name of The Peaceful thanks to the ruling and politics of his Queen and council and Robb by being sanctified by his siblings and lords even tho he was the one causing most of the problems who caused his death and almost destroyed the North — both Viserys and Robb loose their heirs.

Viserys loses his sons by Aemma

Robb dies childless and his heirs (Bran, Rickon, Sansa and Arya) are to his knowledge lost (Bran and Rickon presumed killed, Arya presumed dead and Sansa married to a Lannister).

The heir that remains them, their younger brother/sister (Daemon and Sansa) is not considered worthy of inheriting after them — Daemon for his character and Sansa because she has been married to a Lannister — so both do the same thing, they disinherit their lawful and rightful heir (yes Bran and Rickon and Arya are alive but Robb doesn’t know it; Viserys will have Aegon, Aemond, Daeron and Helaena but he doesn’t know nor care) to name another as heir someone who, by law, should pass after the rightful heir.

It seems to me like some pretty big parallels here.

Daemon = Sansa

Daemon and Sansa are the second born children of a couple who love each other and apparently their mother’ fav.

And you know what’s sick? Daemon and Sansa both supported their brother’ right to any extent.

Daemon readied men-at-arms and sworn swords to defend Viserys’ claim when people rumoured Corlys wanted to assemble a fleet to defend Laenor’ right after Rhaenys.

Sansa bled for the northern independence when in KL and then later — and this is only show for now — Sansa gathered the northern army and put KL under siege to defend her brother. Sansa is the one who decided to rally the lords of the North behind House Stark once again (Jon was done fighting) and she was the one to offer Bran the role of Lord of WF when he returned from Beyond the Wall.

Despite being loyal to their family in their own way, both Daemon and Sansa are disinherited by their king in favor of someone they love but that by law should have come after them.

By succession tradition and law the brother of a king becomes before the daughter of a king — unless women can inherit the throne which was not the case in Westeros at the time — so Daemon came before Rhaenyra in the line of succession, yet Viserys disinherited him to name Rhaenyra heir.

By law and tradition of succession Sansa as the trueborn eldest surviving daughter of Ned and Cat in the evenience of Robb dying without heirs (Bran and Rickon are both presumed dead) comes before Jon, the base born son of Ned Stark. (Jon himself says so “by law Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa”/“Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa”, even though Sansa is a Lannister, a murderess and apparently dissolved in thin air) yet Robb with his will disinherit Sansa to name Jon heir.

Everyone expected Daemon/Sansa to be angry at Jon/Rhaenyra because of it — Rhaenyra herself and the viewer when Jon was named KitN — instead what happened?

Daemon became Rhaenyra’ stauncher supporter and Sansa became Jon’s. Daemon supported Rhaenyra and Sansa supported Jon. When people expected Daemon to lash out when the terms of surrender were issued, he obeyed Rhaenyra order without issue; when the northern lords unsatisfied with Jon’ stay in Dragonstone offered the crown to Sansa, Sansa refused and defended Jon’s claim. All she did in s8 was to defend Jon’s claim to the North and the Realm.

And you know what else is incredible?

Daemon is suspected to have “caused” his first wife’ death and his second wife died in childbirth. Rhea Royce died after a fall from horseback — in the show Daemon kills her, but in the book she dies of the wounds later on, as the hit to the head might have caused her delayed death. Still Daemon is suspected to have caused it — the horse to unseat Rhea — and tried to inherit his wife’ keep.

Sansa “caused” her first betrothed, Joffrey’ death, by telling the truth to Olenna and Margaery which spurned them to have him killed at his own wedding feast. Sansa escapes and her first husband is almost killed for the crime — almost making her a widow.

Both Daemon and Sansa are more skilled than their counterpart in their competence. Daemon is the most skilled warrior of his time, Sansa has learned politics from the best and worst in it.

Daemon finds himself at odds with his brother with the war of the stepstones and Sansa finds herself at odds with her brother whilst in KL as she has to navigate and survive the southern court and Joffrey.

Yet both return to their brother in the end, Sansa by remaining true to her Stark identity (“I am not your daughter, I am the Lord Eddard and lady Catelyn’s daughter. The blood of Winterfell”/ “what if it is truth he wants and justice for his lady?”) and Daemon by winning and giving the crown to his brother.

Sansa wins the battle of bastards through her alliance with the Knights of the Vale and lets her brother take the crown.

Sansa and Daemon are both described as beautiful, charming and dashing. But Daemon is mercurial and Sansa is called a witch for her apparent part in Joffrey’ death.

Both Daemon and Sansa are advisors in their capacity to their brother/king though they have to clamor to be recognised any degree of validity. Sansa has to fight to gain the right to be Jon’s advisor even if he chooses Davos as chief advisor as Viserys chose Otto.

Daemon’s children are the one who inherit the Iron throne after the DotD. Sansa’s children will inherit WF and the North after asoiaf is done.

Jon = Rhaenyra

Jon and Rhaenyra are the odd ones out of this.

Rhaenyra knew her place, she prayed for a brother to inherit the Iron throne just like Jon would have died to defend Robb or any of his siblings (and in the book he does die for fakeArya). But both are ambitious.

Rhaenyra accepts she will be queen and makes of it her identity; Jon dreamed of become Lord of Winterfell before he knew what that entailed.

Both Rhaenyra and Jon expect that their orders — despite their intentions — will be followed, even when they go against hundreds of years of tradition. Rhaenyra as Queen and Jon believes the NW will follow to war against the Boltons when the NW has been neutral for thousand of years. And both pay the ultimate price for it. Death.

Jon is killed by his sworn brothers, Rhaenyra is killed by her brother’s dragon.

Both Rhaenyra and Jon have the temper of their family but they control it for the most part. It takes really big things for it to be spiked. Luke’s death for example.

Both Rhaenyra and Jon are intertwined with fake relationships. Both cause the death of their first lover/spouse.

Rhaenyra marries Laenor to keep the Velaryon in her corner, Laenor who is a gay man — in the book she is much less understanding of it btw — and their relationship is fake and her children aren’t his. In the show she loves him platonically, though I don’t remember that being the case in the book. In the end, whether his death is faked or not, Rhaenyra causes that. Either by having him killed — as they say in the book — or by having him fake his death to marry Daemon to strengthen her claim.

Jon has a “fake” relationship with Ygritte (you know what I think of her in the book) to make sure his undercover mission is accomplished. In the end Jon’ mission is accomplished and even though he “fell in love with her” he still left her and the war between them ended up claiming her life.

After the death of the heir — Balon and Bran and Rickon — Rhaenyra and Jon are both raised to the role of heir by their king with a decree that disinherited/snubbed the previous law-ful heir (Sansa/Daemon).

At the same time, Viserys/Robb have other heirs. Viserys marries and has sons (who have sons), Rickon and Bran are both alive though presumed dead who could end up threatening Jon’s claim once the will becomes active after Jon’ return from the dead.

They have sexual tension with the snubbed heir and value them as advisors though they don’t always agree with their politics.

Jon feels that Sansa’ opinion demeans him before the Lords — tho he names her regent — and Rhaenyra distrust Daemon not to declare war without her say-so.

And yet both Jon and Rhaenyra gain the ripe of Sansa and Daemon’ loyalty.

Even if Jon and Sansa don’t always see eye to eye, Sansa loyalty to Jon is what gets him out of KL alive, without Daemon’ skills as warrior Rhaenyra’ war would have ended long before it started.

Sansa and Daemon both are against Jon and Rhaenyra to surrender their crown, and work to keep the other half in their role.

And you know what? There’s more.

Gifts giving — belonging to a House

Daemon and Sansa both have something that defines their belonging to House Stark.

Sansa’s wolf-bit and Daemon’ sword — which, do I have to go down the sexual metaphor about Sansa’ bosom and Daemon’ sword? — and both whilst speaking of heirs/reading to war to defend the claim to the crown gift the other half something that signifies their belonging to the House as well.

Rhaenyra’ necklace and Jon’s cloak. Both items which Rhaenyra and Jon puts on and basically keeps on for ever — like it was a fucking joke how long Jon kept the cloak on even on Dragonstone —also Rhaenyra necklace resembles a chain (chain of command) and same with Jon’s cloak stripes (which resemble a chain of command).

Rhaenyra confronts Daemon about her being named heir — and perhaps we’ll have something similar in the books for Jon and Sansa. Tho we have something akin to that when Arya confronts Sansa about Jon having the crown and Sansa liking the attention.

Yet both Sansa and Daemon stand strong in their loyalty to Jon above anyone else.

Protecting — destroying some of the earliest and greatest threats the other claim

Vaemond is one of the earliest threats to Rhaenyra rule, just as we know LF has been playing against Jon all along, yet both Sansa and Daemon defend the other half by killing the offender.

Arya and Bran serve as the Viserys in the comparison, because it’s Sansa who passes the sentence (as Arya herself points out) the same way as Daemon is the one who decided to kill Vaemond instead of letting Viserys order of having his tongue removed to be carried out.

Thus removing the earliest threat to the other one’.

Also, both Daemon and Sansa destroyed indirectly or directly another threat to Jon and Rhaenyra by killing Aemond and Daenerys who had the attitude (both of them) of destroying the Realm to take the Iron throne if needed. Aemond would not have taken Aegon’ claim from him but if Aegon had died of his wounds before Rhaenyra was executed, with Maelor and Jaehaerys dead Aemond stood the greatest threat to Rhaenyra. Daemon killed Aemond and Sansa plotted to have the truth about Daenerys uncovered and indirectly causing her death through Jon.

Supporting the other as ruler

Daemon becomes Rhaenyra supporter just as Sansa becomes Jon’s. Even as snubbed heirs they love the new heir and when the time comes they are there, by their side, defending them.

Also, never forget that Sansa/Daemon are always on the side of the consort when it comes to Jon/Rhaenyra whilst that is not true for other characters, who are always afforded place of importance, but not that of the consort.

When Corlys comments on Viserys lack of action in the Stepstones Daemon replies that he can speak of his brother how he well wishes but that is not the truth for others. Similarly Sansa defends Jon (“he’s our king, he’s doing what he thinks best”) even tho she shares the lords preoccupations.

Despite not always seeing eye to eye with Daemon, he is a trusted advisor to Rhaenyra who listens to him. In the same way, despite feeling the need of Sansa’ validation, Sansa is his trusted advisor to the point Jon entrusts the whole of the North to her.

So, yeah, I raise you the Daemyra is the Targaryen version of Jonsa, with Daemon and Rhaenyra being worse people than Jon and Sansa are combined. By ey, there’s a dark streak to the Starks not to be underestimated.

[wesavegotham]

I could make an even longer post including panels to explain all the reasons why I don't agree with the people I've seen online who act like the recent stories of Tim saving Bruce at the end of Batman #135 and Damian saving Bruce at the end of Batman vs Robin are very similar and treating Tim and Damian equally good, but that would probably end up being too long. So here is the slightly less long version to explain what fundamentally sets them apart:

Tim is simply allowed to be good and heroic with no drawbacks. And Damian is not.

There was no argument before Bruce vanished that Tim saving him is an apology for. Bruce didn't get lost because of a mistake Tim made. Tim's way of travelling through the multiverse didn't require him to do anything bad to get it and his travels don't have any negative consequences for him or the places he goes to. Tim didn't only manage to save Bruce after asking for help from a bunch of other characters he met during his journey through the multiverse.

He is simply allowed to be Batman's shining saviour.

Now that alone isn't a problem. The problem is that the other character currently wearing the Robin mantle gets treated very differently.

If Damian was the one trying to save Bruce in the same arc I'm pretty sure some of the things I've listed above, if not all of them, would have been done. Because making Damian at fault for the problem he is trying to solve, punishing him repeatedly for messing up and not letting him solve the problem simply through the power of his own abilities is a pretty persistent pattern in Damian's stories.

Like in Batman vs Robin, a recent story some people try to argue gave Damian a "Robin saves Batman" story equally as nice as the one Tim just got.

Let me break down what Damian's role in that story actually is:

He opens the tomb of Nezha because of his recklessness, Mother Soul only had to arrange for the key to fall into his hands (thus causing all the following terrible events)

He gets possessed by Nezha

He tries and fails to kill his father multiple times, not because Damian is successful in fighting back against Nezha's possession, but because Bruce is simply shown to be superior to him in every way

Bruce dons the helmet of fate and frees everyone possessed by Nezha from his influence, including Damian

Damian begs Bruce for forgiveness

Damian and Talia try to defeat Mother Soul but she simply jumps into an abyss

Damian tries to stop Nezha from killing Bruce, but Nezha then just tries to shoot Damian instead and Bruce jumps in front of the blast, causing him to die

Black Alice and Pigsy manage to revive Bruce, but he's still in a very bad condition

Damian flies them all out of there and crashlands the plane into the Hall of Justice

Damian tries to explain to the heroes what is going on, but everyone turns to (a barely conscious) Batman and they only start listening to Damian once Bruce tells them to do so

Damian comes up with a very vague plan that...I guess one of the two teams had success? The other part of the plan failed and had some unintended consequences though, like Nezha taking full control of Bruce's body, which turned Bruce into nothing more than a husk for Nezha.

Damian remains at the Hall of Justice while the other heroes leave to execute his plan

He gets attacked by King Fire Bull and is completely useless the entire fight even after gaining temporary powers (seriously, it's stated in the book that his heat vision does nothing against a magic being like King Fire Bull)

He yells at King Fire Bull that if he learned anything these past few days it's that you will never be better than your father

The freed magic users defeat King Fire Bull

Nezha in Batman's body returns to the Hall of Justice without the rest of Batman's team, but Damian doesn't become suspicious of him

Damian wakes up captured by Nezha

He manages to escape but Nezha chases him

Monkey Prince explains to Damian the longer Nezha stays in Batman's body the stronger he will get, so they have to get him out of Batman and into his old body fast to banish him, but Nezha is the only thing keeping Bruce's body from dying. If they want to save the world Damian has to kill his father

Damian calls the rest of the batfamily for help to capture Nezha/Batman

After the batfamily wears him down first Monkey Prince uses his cloning ability on Damian to make 20+ (?) clones of Damian that wear Nezha down even further

Zatanna, Enchantress and Pigsy arrive to shackle Nezha and transfer his soul back into his original body on Damian's orders, leaving Bruce dead

Damian then asks Enchantress to transfer his life to Bruce to revive him, arguing that the world needs Batman far more than it needs him. She replies that his sacrifice wouldn't be enough to bring Bruce back, shocking Damian. Zatanna says countless people would need to give parts of themselves to revive Bruce.

Damian asks the entirety of Gotham to give a part of themselves to revive Batman, reminding them of all the times Batman has saved them and to shout "we are Batman" to transfer a part of their lifeforce into Bruce

Bruce comes back to life and they hug

The concluding sentence tells us that this story serves as a lesson to the world that there is no more formidable team than Batman and Robin

Even though we never saw them truly working  together as Batman and Robin at any point of the story and the only lesson I took from this is that Mark Waid really wants you to know that Bruce is the greatest and that Damian will never be as good as his dad. How uplifting.

But hey, they hugged in the end, surely that makes up for all of it, right?😑

Who needs Damian to not be at fault for yet another disaster? For Bruce to say something nice about him that goes beyond "well, he's my son, so I guess I have some love for him even though I can only describe him with bad attributes"? To simply see Damian filling the role Robin is supposed to serve in a story?

Or why let Damian enjoy the privilege that all other male Robins enjoyed? Which was to be Robin without sharing the mantle and getting to be Batman's main crime fighting partner?

Why do that when you can just use Tim for these things instead, right?🙂

And I want to make it clear that it's not just because "the characters are just like that". The characters are fictional, they have no free will.

A writer could simply let Damian have a story where he's not at fault for the problems he faces, where his own abilities allow him to solve the problem and he doesn't have to make shitty decisions because he's been forced into dilemmas other character simply don't get subjected to.

They just constantly choose not to.

[uncannybob]

One-Time Characters I Wish Would Return

Characters who only appeared in one episode that I think should return to the show.

Samantha (S1E11. Weekend At Mort's)

Note: She had a fun personality & a good repore with Mort. I do think her character design could benefit from an upgrade thou where she ever to return which at this point is unlikley.

Colton (S9E11. Bobby Drive)

Note: For what little screentime he had, he seemed like a cool guy. He was ready to sabotage his own party just to spare the other kids the boredom. I think he could make a good companion for any of the Belcher kids.

Roger & Judy (S7E14. Aquatisism)

Note: So here's an idea; if you ever write a Zekina fic where Zeke takes Tina to the aquarium, include Roger & Judy as a side ship. I promise it will be super cute.

Shelby (S3E5. An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal)

Austin (S7E22. Into the Mild)

Note: I love this guy. He was like an even more excentric Tedy and his chemistry with Bob was perfect! Bob did say by episodes end that he kept in touch so I was hoping for his return and was a bit dissapointed when it didn't happen.

Grandma Alice (S13E20. Radio No You Didn't)

Note: I know she already had an entire episode dedicate to her. I just want more lore, okay!

Benj (S13E22. Amelia)

Officer Large (S11E15: Sheshank Redemption)

Note: This character dosen't have a page on the Bob's Burgers wiki yet. I might take it on myself to write one cause this girl cracked me up everytime she spoke.

Warren Fitzgerald (S6E15. Pro Tiki/Con Tiki)

Captain Flarty (S3E4. Mutiny on the Windbreaker)

Note: I know he was arrested but if the show can bring back evicted bank robbers and would-be-murderers like Mickey and Fanny I think they could bring Captain Flarty back if they wanted to.

Duval (S3E4. Mutiny on the Windbreaker)

Note: It would be fun if Duval settled down in Seymore Bay after the mutiny on The Windbreaker. Maybe he became chef at some small shak or deli.

Derek Demotopolis (S4E6. Purple Rain-Union)

Note: I think one way to re-introduce Derek Demotopolis the dermatologist would be if one of the Belchers got some sort of skin condition and he just happens to be the doctor they go too. Either that or they could bring him back as Gayle's love interest.

Dillon (S7E13. The Grand Mama-Pest Hotel)