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Scrolling through the “anti Viserys I” tag is something that can be so personal and beautiful
#the dance is 90% his fault and I will die on that hill#every time I start to like him I just remember#“You do not mention our talks to Rhaenyra#and my heart just breaks a little more for alicent#also HE IS THE KING#if he was “pressured” into remarrying a child then he is WEAK#and that’s all without mentioning aemma#that’s another child he married#seriously he’s worse than daemon#that woman went through pregnancy after pregnancy until she physically couldn’t#AND THEN HE KILLED HER#I loathe this man so much#anti viserys i targaryen#house of the dragon#alicent hightower#aemma arryn
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too sweet
pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!targ bastard!reader
description: y/n heritage was plain as day–she was a targaryen bastard forced to work in the brothels just to scrape by, so when the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms calls for her illegitimate kin to join her in dragonstone, it is nearly impossible to ignore.
warnings: hotd typical warnings, reader’s appearance slightly described (hair colour and its mentioned that she had lost weight due to malnutrition but that's it), slight smut like literally just the beginning, slight reference to rhaenyra as mommy but not really she’s just a mother with maternal instincts and im horny mbmb
words: 4.2K
date posted: 05/09/24
The lower streets of King’s Landing had quickly dwindled into a dangerous cesspool of violence, hatred, and poverty in the months following the death of King Viserys II. The line of succession had been a heavily debated topic across the nation ever since Queen Aemma lost her first boy, even among the common folk, and especially after the Hightowers usurped the throne in favour of Prince Aegon before Rhaenyra could even attempt to lay her claim.
In truth, Y/n felt no loyalty to either side of this war. She was, afterall, one of the many Targaryen offspring left to rot in the streets of Flea Bottom, and though she felt morally tied to Rhaenyra solely through her sex, she also knew that the world was designed for men and men alone, so there was no possible way that Rhaenyra Targaryen could ascend the throne without some sort of political pushback. Her loyalty, at this point, was something to be earned from either side, but now with Prince Aemond acting as Regent, it was almost impossible to feel any sort of loyalty towards the Greens with how poorly the common folk were being treated, and though Rhaenyra’s attempts to share food among the masses in King’s Landing was most certainly nothing more than a ploy to earn their fealty, it was working.
Y/n had lost a considerable amount of weight in the few weeks since rations had been cut back even further, and many of her regular customers had complained that her curves and plush thighs had thinned out, and anyone who gripped her tight enough could easily feel the grooves of her bones beneath the once pillow-soft flesh. Her silver-white hair appeared to be dull in colour, and her skin was more tender than ever before–not only was she more susceptible to bruising due to her malnutrition, but her clients were also rougher when they came to her; men were could hardly afford her services anymore, so they were taking her as they pleased whenever they could. Despite the neglect to her physical form, she still needed to perform her duties at the brothel each night, and had to hold her tongue in disgust each time any member or affiliate of the royal family requested her services. Y/n knew that, if she were to remain in King’s Landing for much longer, she would end up starving to death, so long as she was not brutally murdered first.
So, when she overheard two of her clients whispering about Rhaenyra’s call for all Targaryen bastards to flee to Dragonstone, she only hesitated for a brief moment before packing the few belongings she had into a moth-eaten sack and fleeing to the shore along with many of her brothers and sisters. On the journey, they shared their stories–who they were, who they may have descended from, why they had answered the Queen’s call… Each and every one of them were there out of sheer desperation, and many of them could not even be certain that they had any Targaryen blood, they were there based on rumours and hope of escaping starvation, even if it meant that they were going to be eaten alive by one of the largest dragons in the world.
Y/n had always been complimented for her Valyrian features, silver hair and purplish eyes, but nothing had prepared her for the unearthly beauty of Queen Rhaenyra. She was the pinnacle of how a Targaryen should appear in physicality and in presence. The moment she set foot in the regal library of Dragonstone, she commanded the attention of everyone inside, and as she argued with the dragon keepers in High Valyrian, Y/n could feel her heart beating against her ribcage. Her mere existence made Y/n nervous, similarly to how one might feel in the presence of a god, the woman watching in awe as the Queen commanded a dragon to serve her, reaching out to lay her hand upon his snout and close her eyes, feeling the energy transfer between them.
Her awe was quickly broken, though, as Vermax rejected the first man who stepped forward to claim him, then turning to spray fire at the remaining group rather than offer any acceptance. In truth, Y/n could not be surprised; she had willingly walked into the dragon pit in hopes of claiming a wild dragon, something that was rarely done by those with the purest of Valyrian bloodlines, let alone by someone who would never be recognized as a true Targaryen. She was only glad that she was able to flee and hide herself behind a large broken piece of stone before the dragon could swallow her whole. She could not remember how long she had been cowering behind the stone before she could feel the dragon’s presence behind her, feeling the force of his exhale around the stone. She finally pushed herself up on shaky legs, turning to find herself staring into the open jaws of Vermithor as he stared down at her. She trembled at his sheer size, her entire body scarcely comparable to the size of one of his long, sharp claws. Closing her eyes, she accepted her fate–this could not be any worse than the slow death of starvation she would have faced had she not left King’s Landing to begin with. This way, the pain would be worse, but her death would be instant, and her bones would not be left to rot in the streets. She let out a shaky breath, waiting for the heat of his fire, but it never came.
Instead, she felt her body fall back, landing against the jagged stone of the dragon pit from the force of his snout meeting her chest. Her eyes cracked open, peering up at him fearfully, only to be met by his curious stare. His jaws had closed, no long seeming to be interested in harming her as he laid his head down onto the ground, grumbling impatiently as he waited for her attention.
She turned her gaze upwards, finding the queen staring down at her amidst the chaos and smoke. She wore a small smirk on her face, appearing proud that someone was finally able to claim the wild dragon. Y/n felt a warmth in her belly at her attention, chest heaving as Rhaenyra nodded at her, as if giving her permission to finally lay claim to the dragon that had chosen her to ride him. His nose was scaly beneath her touch, but his flesh provided her with a comforting warmth that was so different to the uncomfortable heat of the still-burning flames all around her. She carefully pressed against him, resting her head against his nose, feeling the connection form between them–she could feel his emotions, how he was quickly calming from her touch, and she wondered if he could feel her heartbeat slowly decreasing from its rapid pace. He nudged her to climb up his wing, slowly raising her to step back up onto the platform and meet the queen face-to-face.
“What is your name?” Rhaenyra spoke, her tone firm but welcoming.
Y/n lowered her head, dropping into a poorly attempted curtsy, “Y/n, Your Grace.”
The queen nodded, “I must admit, I am surprised that you have been able to claim a dragon at all, let alone one such as Vermithor, but I cannot describe the relief you have given me today. You should be proud, having claimed the second largest, and arguably the fiercest dragon in the world.”
“I-I cannot tell you how this feels, Your Grace. I am but a common girl from Flea Bottom–this is my first time even leaving King’s Landing.”
“And now you are a dragon rider. How you have risen.” Rhaenyra smirked, dragging her violet gaze down the length of her body, “Come, you must be tired and hungry from your journey. I will have my ladies prepare you a bath and bring you new clothes. I need you strong, if you are to ride a dragon.”
Her night in Dragonstone had not felt real. For the first time since she was a small child, she had others taking care of her. The ladies were gentle as they massaged soap into her silver hair and dull skin, pressing rose-scented oil into her skin and braiding her hair into a style she had never had the pleasure of wearing–she typically could not afford proper hair care, as her clients tended to tug and rip at her silver curls while seeking pleasure, making it pointless to wear anything more than one simple braid. Her dress was simple, but still the finest quality she’d ever worn. It was black, with red stitching along the hem, almost as if Rhaenyra was claiming her as a member of the Blacks, which she supposed she likely was. Her mouth watered at the sight of the food, forgoing the utensils on the table and instead ripping pieces of meat apart with her bare hands, moaning at the taste and savouring every last lick of flavour, washing it all down with the sweetest red wine she had ever tasted.
She was on her second plate when Rhaenyra came to her chambers, silently slipping through the secret passage and motioning for the handmaidens to leave the room.
“I hope it is up to your standard,” She spoke, smirking as the girl flinched in surprise at the queen’s voice, “I’m afraid we have had to give up some luxuries in order to prepare for the coming war, but I figured that you would be wanting for a proper meal.”
“My queen,” Y/n spoke, wine dribbling down the corner of her mouth, “I cannot even remember the last time I have been able to taste meat at all, and I’m sure I’ve never been afforded something such as this.”
“I’m glad,” Rhaenyra took the seat across from her at the small round table, “I understand that you are tired and wish to retire soon, but I could not deny my curiosity. Tell me, do you know of your heritage?”
Y/n shrunk in her seat, unsure of whether her lineage may cause the queen any upset, “I cannot be certain, Your Grace, but I am told I come from either of two Targaryen men.”
Rhaenyra tilted her head, “Your mother could not be certain?”
Y/n pursed her lips, “I did not know my mother. She died in her labours, I’m afraid, but her employer took in and put me to work as soon as I was old enough.”
Rhaenyra nodded, the solemn look in her eyes making her understanding clear, “I am sorry to hear that. I can understand the pain of losing a mother, though I was fortunate enough to know her for a while before she was taken from us.”
Y/n bowed her head, “I was only a young child when Queen Aemma died, but I remember my household mourning her greatly. I’m told she was the finest of ladies.”
“Thank you, she was.” Rhaenyra gulped down the lump in her throat, “Enough about me, tell me of your lineage.”
Y/n nodded, “Some tell me that my mother was the bastard daughter of Prince Baelon, your grandsire. I’m told her hair was light in colour, not so much as mine, but her own mother was dark of hair. Others tell me that my father may have been…Prince Daemon.” She watched as the queen raised her brow, “I’m told he was a regular customer of my mother’s before she fell pregnant, though I cannot be certain where my Valyrian blood comes from.”
Rhaenyra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I am aware of my husband’s indiscretions, but do not fear. We cannot be to blame for the misdoings of our parents.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Y/n smiled at her softly, “Forgive me for asking, but I was under the impression that Prince Daemon was here with you, I had assumed that he would be more present in the claiming of the dragons.”
Rhaenyra frowned, “Daemon has claimed Harrenhal in my name, or so I’m told. In truth, I was so determined to find riders for my remaining dragons because I am not certain whether he fights for my claim or his own. I fear he still resents me for my father replacing him as his successor, and the last time we spoke he did not seem to be very pleased with me or the way that I wish to conduct this war.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Your Grace.” Y/n frowned, “My apologies, I never should have asked.”
“Nonsense,” Rhaenyra swiped a singular tear from her cheek, “You are one of my dragonriders now, blood of the dragon. You are privy to the internal quarrels of my council if you are to risk your life for my cause.”
Y/n nodded, unsure of what else to say. She opened her mouth, uncertain of what was about to come out when Rhaenyra stood, staring down at her with sharp violet eyes.
“My apologies for keeping you, my lady. I shall let you rest now, I need you at your best to begin your lessons in the morn.” She hesitated for a moment before finally rounding the table and pressing a firm kiss to the crown of her head, then finally fleeing through the secret passage that she had arrived through, leaving the girl stunned at the affection she had just received from the Queen.
In the following weeks, Y/n’s bond with Vermithor had grown more than she could have possibly imagined. She was far from fluent in High Valyrian and still had much to learn in the art of dragon riding, but she was now able to use basic commands with her mount and was growing more confident while flying.
She had also found herself acting as a confidant for the queen, at first mostly for political matters–Mysaria had been very helpful in the beginning when it came to pulling the commoners to her side, but Y/n had lived through the cruelty forced upon the masses by the Greens, she was able to give Rhaenyra a first-hand perspective. Then, she began coming to her for other matters, even just to talk, though Y/n understood how lonely she must feel among her counsel of men, especially now that she was forced to deal with the icy attitude of her own son, who had been entirely against the recruitment of the Targaryen bastards and now seemed to be punishing his mother for giving not one, but three fully grown dragons to those who had no rightful claim to them.
Y/n found comfort in the three other bastards that had joined Rhaenyra’s team. Hugh was a gentle soul in a tough vessel, always prepared to fight and protect those he cared about. He had quickly become quite close with the younger woman, viewing her almost as a younger sister (which they very well could be, for all they know). Ulf was, well, Ulf. He was rough around the edges, exactly the type you would expect to find in the lowest and poorest areas of Flea Bottom, the type to hang around brothels and bars for the majority of his life, spending the only coin to his name on booze and only the cheapest of whores. Addam was quieter than the other two when dealing with the queen and their newfound duties, but seemed to be the most endlessly confident man that Y/n had ever met. He was loyal to his core at the very least, but like the rest of them, he was nothing more than a commoner whose fate lay in the hands of those born into power, though he certainly had much more faith in Rhaenyra than the other two, mainly because of her greater amount of trust in him considering that he was able to claim a dragon without any help or even any effort–while the others had all come to Dragonstone to bond with a dragon, Seasmoke had chosen Addam on his own without prompt. Though, as much as he seemed to be the queen’s favourite amongst her new “army of bastards,” none were aware of the fact that Rhaenyra made nightly visits to Y/n’s chambers and would now consider her to be one of her closest confidants.
Rhaenyra had found herself being quite clingy when it came to Y/n. Every night after she crept through the secret passageway, she would sit and talk for hours with Y/n regardless of what state the young woman may have been in. She sat with her while she studied High Valyrian, while she bathed, even while she slept sometimes, silently stroking her silver-white locks as her breathing slowed and deepened, perhaps overstaying her welcome for an hour or two before leaving through the same passage in which she had come.
Y/n was among the few who could understand her frustrations. Everyone around her were men, none of whom considered her intelligent enough to lead their forces to victory; Daemon refused to correspond with her, despite the fact that he had travelled to Harrenhal in her name; her son resented her for bringing in these bastards and allowing them to claim dragons; her council rejected her ideas and undermined her rule as much as they possibly could. Y/n, however, was able to understand the sheer anger that she was feeling–to be ignored and criticised simply due to her gender. Rhaenyra knew fully well that everyone there would gladly turn their shields to Daemon should he press for his own claim to the throne, all except for her sweet Y/n.
The silver-haired queen could not be certain exactly when her affection for the young woman had grown past the point of decency. During their usual evenings together, Rhaenyra found herself reaching for her, laying a hand over her own or to scratch gently at her scalp or to stroke her cheek affectionately. It was something that Y/n had grown accustomed to, feeling Rhaenyra’s weight next to her in her feather-plush bed, her nimble fingertips soothing over her skin until she fell asleep. So much so, that the one evening that Rhaenyra did not come to her chambers, she found herself lying awake late into the night, waiting to feel the comforting, almost maternal presence of the silver queen.
This longing for the woman’s wandering of the halls of Dragonstone, thanking the gods for the many lit torches lining the walls–otherwise, she would be left to wander a labyrinth of blackness with no hope of finding the queen. Rhaenyra had been spending a large majority of her time in the castle’s vast library, which is exactly where the new dragonrider found her, slouched over dozens of large, dusty books that had likely gone untouched for the last century.
The silver haired woman paid no mind to the new presence in the room, instead continuing to rake her eyes across the page mindlessly.
“Your Grace,” Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered up at the sound of the young woman’s voice, “You did not join us for supper.”
The queen sat back in her chair, rolling her neck to remove some of the kinks out, “My appetite did not find me this evening, I’m afraid.”
“And you did not come to my chambers,” This caused her eyebrows to perk up, her violet eyes drawing down her robe-clad body. Y/n shifted her weight from leg-to-leg, heat rising to her cheeks as her next admittance fell from her lips, “I admit, I found it difficult to find sleep without your presence.”
A small chuckle fell from Rhaenyra’s lips as a tired smile crossed her features, “My apologies, my sweet. How thoughtless of me to neglect you so.”
“Neglect,” Y/n muses, rounding the edge of the desk to lean against the lip just next to Rhaenyra’s seat. “I fear the only one of us that is facing neglect at your hand, Your Grace, is you.” Her fingers reached for the queen’s pale cheek, ghosting over the soft skin and admiring the pink that grew beneath her touch, “You look tired, and you have not eaten since breakfast–and do not even try to argue, I asked your handmaiden.”
“My sweet keeper,” Rhaenyra smirked, “I fear comfort is something I cannot afford at the moment, not until this war is won and I take back my rightful inheritance.”
“A war will not be won tired and hungry,” She retorted, “You must take care of yourself–or at least, allow others to care for you.”
This caused Rhaenyra to scoff, “I’m certain that my council would not care for me, even if they had to. In fact, I may be doing them a favour by allowing myself to waste away as such.”
“Then allow me to care for you.”
Rhaenyra’s purple eyes widened in surprise, then settled into the familiar affectionate stare that she so often wore when dealing with the young woman, “Sweet girl, I fear you may be far too kind for this world. Or, for me, at the very least.”
“For the world, mayhaps, but I do not feel there is enough kindness in the world to treat you as you deserve, Your Grace.”
Rhaenyra stood from her chair abruptly, her own hands coming to settle over the young woman’s cheeks. A glaze of tears appeared in her eyes as she stuttered for a moment, mulling over her words to ensure that her point was as clear as possible.
#reader insert#x reader#imagines#lesbian#rhaenyra is a gay icon#hotd rhaenyra#rhaenyra x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra targaryen
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A Dragon's Wrath
Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.
pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader
word count: 3k
warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey
a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair
In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.
Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.
This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.
At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.
You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.
You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.
Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.
That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.
When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.
"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."
Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."
You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."
"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"
The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.
"I would like nothing more, Ser."
After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.
Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.
Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.
Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.
Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.
She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.
The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.
"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."
Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?
Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.
Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.
You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.
Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.
"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"
But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."
You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.
He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.
"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.
Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"
"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"
Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.
Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."
"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"
"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."
Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"
"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"
You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.
"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."
Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.
Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.
Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.
It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.
"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."
He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.
Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."
"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."
He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."
As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.
You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.
"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.
"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."
Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."
Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.
You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."
A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.
Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.
After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.
As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.
Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.
Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.
Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."
"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.
"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."
Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.
"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."
Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."
Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"
Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.
"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."
He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."
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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.
His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.
"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."
You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.
"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."
Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.
"What have you planned, my love?"
You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."
The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.
You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.
"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.
Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."
You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.
"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."
Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."
You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."
Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."
"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."
And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.
You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"
He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.
"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."
So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.
Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.
Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.
Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.
"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"
You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."
Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"
"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."
You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.
Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.
"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."
You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.
You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.
The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.
"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."
He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."
#harwin strong x reader#harwin strong#ser harwin strong#harwin x reader#harwin breakbones#ser harwin x reader#harwin x you#harwin strong fanfic#harwin strong x you#harwin strong fluff#hotd x you#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon x you#harwin fluff#harwin angst#ser harwin angst#ser harwin x reader fluff#harwin lives au#hotd au#reader insert#reader#reader imagine#reader fic#house of the dragon fanfic#harwin breakbones x reader#harwin breakbones x y/n#hawrin breakbones x you#wife!reader#mom!reader
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Please do a alicent hightower x rhaenrya targayren twin brother who she marries and become princess consort. Alicent want him to herself ,so she tries break relationship with the male oc and rhanearya.
Manipulation
Yandere!Alicent Hightower x Male!Reader
I made this last night very late, the sun rising. But I just now reread it and idk if you meant rhaenrya marrying the reader or Alicent. But I made this think Alicent married the reader because that’s what I did all the way through until I went back to edit it. I apologize but I still hope you like it!
Warnings: Yandere tactics, manipulation, obsession, stalking, one mention of something gory.
Readers very existence changed everything about what happened, there would be no war. Do to the reader being the first born son, raised along side rhaenrya he would be it’s rightful hair.
Aemma was proud to have birthed a son for Viserys and a beautiful daughter. She loved her children and always kept a close eye on them, them both being strong headed.
Viserys loved both of them equally. But most of his time was filled with teaching y/n how to be a man and one day a king. From the age of three he took y/n with him on hunts, a memory he cherishes deeply. Rhaenrya was with her mother and was the talk of all the ladies as they gushed over her Beauty.
This being said rhaenrya was raised to believe in her brother who she loved to death. He was her twin and the gods created them together to be in this world. So as time went on she did not resent her brother because she did not feel like she was being replaced for a male heir.
Alicent knew y/n for a short time while she was by the young princess side. Y/n loved to play with rhaenrya and in his free time spent most of it with her. Alicent, being her best friend, was there a lot. He was charming and even though he was younger she never failed to blush when he would comment her. He was a gentleman, his mother and father made sure of it. But y/n never really payed that much attention because he was talking with his sister.
A feeling started to fill her mind of wanting his attention to on her so she started to speak up more. She’d dropped somethings and the reader would help, or get close to him and say something. Her crush got deeper and within a year after realizing, she had fallen deeply in love with the prince. Her attitude started to change when he was around and become all about him. Butting in on conversations, grabbing his arms slightly.
Things took a change when the prince was sent to study in Pentos and around the world to become a better king. Alicent was heartbroken over this news and she cried for days. She never was the same again. After two years her obsession slowly faded but she always seemed to think of him when she got lost in thought. His laugh, the way he made her smile and feel.
Rhaenrya looked passed her obsession for a small crush and did not blame Alicent back then since they were children. Her brother was a handsome boy and she couldn’t blame alicent. Tho, she did like to tease her friend sometimes.
Alicent and Rhaenrya sat together while Alicent read to her. They laughed and tried to get by with rhaenryas consent bickering and pokes of fun. But the city rang of a dragons roar and a deep one at that, their eyes looked up and saw a black dragon with spikes fly above them and casted a shadow down.
Rhaenrya hops up with a huge smile and a laugh, “He’s back.” She shot up and ran off without another word. Alicent was panicking to grab all the stuff she had brought and follow the princess. As she ran her chest filled with butterflies and her mind flashing of images of the boy she remembers. He was still young but could he have grown a beard? How tall was he now? Would he remember her, or better yet, would he be kind to her? She felt sick but her feet ran faster to see her prince.
When they got outside to the dragon pits she placed the books on the ground and grabbed ahold of rhaenrya in excitement. They watch his dragon land and the ground shake below their feet. The beasts mouth opened and screamed at the top of its lungs, a faint male voice shouting. Y/n petted his dragon and spoke to it and laughed. Everyone saw their prince stepping off his dragon and he looked different. His pale skin and freshly cut silky white hair, his frame grown and more muscly toned.
“Quite the entrance brother. Always loved attention.” Rhaenrya pulled away from Alicent and walked towards her brother with a fake face. The boy turned with a smiled while taking off his gloves, “And you dear sister, being betrothed to Lord Strong? Quite a lovely tale.” He smirked as they stood a few steps away from each other.
Rhaenrya broke and leaped towards her brother and hugged him close, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her up. The two laughed in joy to be reunited together again after years. The hug lasted a few seconds before he placed her back on the ground but still holding onto each other. “We must see mother and father at once.” Rhaenrya smiled and tugged him backward with her.
“I’m sure they eagerly await your return.” A new voice pulled the twins apart and around. Y/n took a moment and his breath hitch’s as a bigger smile popped onto his face. Alicent Hightower, the girl who always was kindhearted and soft. It seems her beauty grew with age. She was once’s one of the most beautiful girl he has ever seen but now he is not sure she could be topped in rank.
“Alice Hightower?” He let go of rhaenrya and walked closer and the brunette bowed her head down in respected. “It seems you both grew into beautiful woman, how jealous the other ladies must be.” Her cheeks flushed and the pressure in her chest she felt all those years ago returned. But harder then before. Rhaenrya rolled her eyes at his comment and pulled his arm. “Mother will not like you taking long to see her. Neither father really.” Alicent watched his attention go back to rhaenrya and she felt anger.
Alicent from there got his attention anyway she could. Learning his schedule and always “Bumping” into him at times. Or how she’d dress in prettier dresses to show herself off. Y/n found his alone night walks to never be alone with the hands daughter following him everywhere.
Otto did the same thing he did to Viserys and pushed his daughter into y/n. But Alicent was already doing it by herself and had no problem. Slowly otto got into the kings mind of marrying the two.
“Any girl peak your interest my boy?” Viserys asked while they chatted in the kings chamber. “Have you already picked a woman for me?” His father only smiled and patted his back and took the figure from his sons hands and placed it back down. “You are the future king but my son, I want you to find a match like I did with your mother.” Y/n smiled and looked back down. “There is this one girl…” Viserys cheered and shook his sons shoulders more.
“Is it the Lady Alicent?” The boys head shot up and looked surprised to hear her name. “I see the way you look at her, or the way she looks at you.”
“She’s kind, will make a loving queen.”
Alicent was surprised when one day the reader asks her to take a walk with him in the garden without rhaenrya. But she didn’t hesitated to take his arms and walk with him. The reader was sweet when he asked her to marry him and had a fresh flowers picked just for her. He said she did not have to marry him if did not want but the thought didn’t even cross her mind.
After the betrothal she started to pull the reader away from everyone to keep him to herself. Especially rhaenrya. The thought of having to share her darling made her fingers dug into her skin at the thought. The reader was hers, only hers.
Alicent didn’t even want the reader be around his family at the wedding. Rhaenrya couldn’t even ask for a dance without Alicent pulling him on the dance floor by herself.
The castle saw less and less of him because if he wasn’t studying or with the king, then he was with Alicent. Aemma got to see her son if he had time but rhaenrya was out of the question. The dinner table was awkward with tension between the girls. If rhaenrya was around then Alicent would be right at the readers side.
Reader is so blind to see what’s happening. Alicent is good at playing the innocent girl so he suspects nothing of her manipulating tactics. She is his wife and he needs to care and love her, plus he is very busy with heir things so it is no one’s fault he doesn’t get to see his family anymore.
But does shit get worse she Alicent announces she is pregnant. You think her possessiveness is bad before then this is like hell. You study with in your chamber at the table while Alicent relaxes and reads. She wished for this child since you came back so she loved it dearly, even happy about it as she rubs her belly and whispers. “You are a gift of our love, he has given you to me.”
You love your wife dearly so you do anything you can to make this easy for her. Until the death of your mother happens. She was pregnant again, surprising everyone after years of no children being born. But sadly died in childhood birth along with your baby brother. Everything gets hard on you.
You sneak around to comfort your sister when Alicent thinks your out at the library, or your father when you can since you still see him a bit. Everything is hell and they all look for you but Alicent has you in her clutch.
I haven’t mentioned Daemon yet so here it is. Hates Alicent since he watched her flirt with you in the halls or at feast when you came back. Hates her so freaking much for stealing you away from your twin and even him, platonically. His anger gets more like rhaenrya when she kept you away from your family and took over your mind. Thinks she was a witch and put a spell on you, drugged you, or even threatened you if you did not love her. He constantly tries to get you away.
After months of mourning and your mental state being drained your body was restored by one second of seeing your son. He was so tiny and beautiful. He looked like you so much and you took him in your arms and cradled him. You cheered around the room that you had a son and praised your wife for her hard work. Making sure she had the best of medication and care after. Alicent loved that you focused on the babe while knowing it was a new way to keep you with her.
Aegon was his name, and he was raised by a loving father. Next, a daughter who you were very protective over with her strange like ways but loves her no less. Then your son aemond who couldn’t hatch a dragon egg but you held no grudge. You would tell him stories of how one day he will have a dragon and you will help him hunt it. Daeron your youngest who took mostly after you, his kindness and level head.
Your children grew to be just as protective of you as their mother and hated to let you go. Always kicking and screaming when you tried to leave and cry, they were slightly spoiled. But they followed you around like ducklings and the boys tried to act like you. Even watching you practice and copying your moves, walking even and everything about you. Rhaenrya had children and you wanted to be in their lives so you forced Alicent to have the children spend time with them. You missed your family and it was time to be together.
Oh, but did your kids hate rhaenryas kids- Well, Helaena and Daeron didn’t mind because she was sweet, and Daeron was off in old town. But Aemond and Aegon didn’t like their cousins every much. They hated when you gave them attention or trained them as well, so they’d trip the boys or do something to get your attention.
Rhaenrya tried to talk to Alicent about how she wished no harm to steal you away in hopes to calm her down. Maybe even hang out with you once and a while. But Alicent didn’t give up.
Not only did you have a yandere for a wife, but Yandere children as well who can manipulate you. You belonged to them and no one else.
Extra because why not:
The only way I see Rhaenrya trying to take back the throne is with Daemon in her ear. They see how Alicent has you in control and knows she could do anything. It wasn’t about you because if Alicent was never in the picture you would be a good king. But now Daemon thinks that Rhaenrya needs to have a claim to the throne as well.
Rhaenrya named her fourth child after the reader and Alicent gets pissed about it. Even asks/screams for her to change it because she had no right.
Aegon is different from the show and is more..Better? A loving parent can make all the difference so he turns out, kinda okay. Don’t get me wrong he’s still a dick but he’s better about it. But with the reader by his side actually trying to do good, Aegon wants to impress him and becomes a good man.
Aemond clings to y/n the most because he feels lesser then his siblings for the lack of a dragon which the reader never puts him down for. If the boys are teasing him all it takes is one word to dad and everything will be okay.
Helaena really loves her dad so much. He listens to her, reads to her or gets her bugs from around the world. Even asks her questions of what she is saying. Helaena feels a comfort in him unlike anyone else. She is a daddy’s girl for sure.
#yandere house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#yandere house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon#yandere aemond targaryen#yandere aegon ii targaryen#yandere alicent hightower#yandere Alicent hightower x reader#rhaenrya targaryen x reader#house of the dragon x male reader#yandere house of the dragon x male!reader#yandere house of the dragon x male reader#house of the dragon x male!reader#daemon targaryen x reader#rhaenrya targaryen#yandere rhaenyra targaryen x reader
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The Dragon's Right (12)
- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.
- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen
- Rating: Mature 16+
- Word count: 6 700+
- Previous part: 11
- Next part: 13
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround
The skies over Dragonstone were overcast, a heavy blanket of gray clouds that seemed to press down on the ancient fortress. The sea winds swept through the courtyard, carrying the salty tang of the ocean as you stood, watching the crimson form of Caraxes descend from the heavens. The Blood Wyrm was unmistakable, his long, serpentine body slicing through the air with a grace that belied his fearsome reputation. As Caraxes landed with a thud that sent vibrations through the stone beneath your feet, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of nostalgia and wariness.
It had been ten years since you’d left King’s Landing, ten years since you’d made your choice to live in exile with Rhaenyra, far from the politics and treachery of the court. Yet, even here, on the windswept isle of Dragonstone, the shadows of your past seemed ever-present. And now, with Daemon’s arrival, those shadows had come calling once more.
Daemon slid off Caraxes with a practiced ease, his movements as fluid and confident as ever. His silver hair, longer now, whipped around his face in the brisk wind. He wore a dark riding cloak that billowed behind him as he approached, his expression a curious blend of amusement and something else, something that made you tense.
“Nephew,” Daemon greeted, his lips curling into a wry smile as he stopped before you. “It’s been too long. I’d say Dragonstone suits you, though I must admit, the quiet life doesn’t seem quite your style.”
You clasped his arm in greeting, your grip firm as you met his gaze. “Daemon,” you replied, your tone cordial but guarded. “I’d say the same for you. But then, I don’t imagine you’ve come all this way just to admire the scenery.”
Daemon laughed, a low, almost conspiratorial sound. “No, no. Though I must say, the view from the skies is magnificent, as always.” His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous glint. “I couldn’t resist dropping in. I still remember the show we put on all those years ago—Lannister’s face was something to behold, wasn’t it?”
You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Yes, you did enjoy yourself, didn’t you? Stirring up the hornet’s nest and then watching it burn.” There was a pause, then you added, more seriously, “But we’ve paid the price for it, haven’t we? Exiled from our father, from the crown. All for defying a marriage that should never have been considered.”
Daemon shrugged, as if such consequences were of little concern to him. “What’s life without a bit of rebellion, hmm? You and Rhaenyra made your choice, and I supported you then as I do now. Besides, it was amusing to see the Lannisters quiver for once. You took what was rightfully yours—no more, no less.”
You nodded, though the weight of the years spent in exile bore heavily on your shoulders. “But why are you here now, Uncle?” you asked, your voice turning serious. “You didn’t come all this way just to reminisce.”
Daemon’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more contemplative look. He took a moment, glancing around the courtyard, his eyes lingering on the old walls and the distant sea beyond. “Viserys sent me,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “He wishes to see you both. He’s… missed you, despite everything. The years have not been kind to him without his children. And he wants to meet his grandchildren.”
The mention of your father’s name brought a mix of emotions surging to the surface. You’d tried to bury your anger, your resentment, but hearing that Viserys wanted to see you now, after so many years of estrangement, felt like reopening an old wound.
“He wants to meet my children now?” you said, your voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil inside. “I suppose it’s been difficult for him, hasn’t it? So difficult that he married Alicent Hightower after Otto couldn’t push her onto me as well.” Bitterness seeped into your words. “And then he tried to do the same with Rhaenyra.”
Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely. “I won’t deny that Otto Hightower’s machinations played a part in all this. And yes, Viserys made his choices. Poor ones, perhaps. But he’s still your father, and the weight of his crown has only grown heavier over the years.”
You turned away, looking out toward the horizon where the sky met the churning sea. The memories of those last days in King’s Landing, the betrayal, the forced choices—it all felt too close, too raw, even now. “He was willing to sacrifice both of us for the sake of alliances, for the sake of his damned peace.”
“And now he’s paying the price for it,” Daemon said softly, his voice lacking its usual bite. “You and Rhaenyra—your absence has left a wound in him. He’s not the man you remember, nephew. The years, the burdens of the crown… they’ve taken their toll. He’s not well.”
You took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions inside you. Part of you wanted to scoff, to dismiss the idea that Viserys could feel regret, that he could truly want to reconcile. But another part of you, the part that remembered your father not as a king but as the man who had once held you and Rhaenyra close, who had smiled and laughed and told stories of old Valyria—that part of you ached to believe it.
“And what of Rhaenyra?” you asked, turning back to Daemon. “He’s banished her in all but name. What does he want from her now?”
Daemon sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “He wants his daughter back. He wants his son back. He wants to meet the children he’s only heard about in letters. Whatever anger or pride kept him away before, it’s fading. He’s sick, Y/N. And he’s afraid.”
You clenched your jaw, the conflicting emotions tearing at you. This was the last thing you had expected—a summons, an invitation to return after all these years. And yet, the thought of facing your father, of returning to that world of intrigue and betrayal, made your blood boil.
“It’s not that simple,” you said quietly. “We’ve built a life here. Our family is here. And after everything that’s happened…”
“No,” Daemon agreed. “It’s never simple. But he’s reaching out, in his own way. He’s trying to mend what’s broken. If you’re willing to listen.”
You looked down at the stones beneath your feet, the wind carrying the distant cries of the dragons above. This was a decision that couldn’t be made lightly. Too much was at stake—your family, your children, and Rhaenyra’s heart, which had been battered by years of rejection and exile.
“And if we say no?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Daemon shrugged, though there was a seriousness in his eyes that belied his casual posture. “Then you stay here, and the world keeps turning. But know this: Viserys is dying. If you don’t see him now, you may never have the chance to see him again.”
The words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned away, your heart pounding as you tried to process what Daemon had said. It felt like a trap, like the last desperate plea of a man who had already lost too much. But there was also truth in it, a truth that made your chest ache.
“I’ll speak to Rhaenyra,” you said finally, your voice strained. “But I make no promises.”
Daemon nodded, his gaze understanding. “That’s all I ask, nephew.”
He turned then, walking back toward Caraxes, who waited patiently in the courtyard. As Daemon climbed back into the saddle, he looked back at you one last time, his expression solemn. “Take your time, Y/N. But don’t take too long.”
With a final nod, he urged Caraxes into the air, the great dragon’s wings beating powerfully as they lifted off the ground, the sound echoing across Dragonstone.
You watched as they disappeared into the sky, the wind whipping around you, carrying with it the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The decision lay heavy on your shoulders, a choice that could change everything once again.
The horns of the city rang out twice, their deep, resonant call echoing across the Red Keep and through the streets of King’s Landing. The sound brought King Viserys back from his restless thoughts, his frail form stiffening as he looked out the open window. His children had returned, just as Daemon had promised. The realization brought a mix of relief and trepidation to his heart.
Viserys turned to Ser Harrold Westerling, who stood dutifully at his side. The years had not been kind to the king; his skin was pallid, his frame thin and weakened, and his once proud stance was hunched, as if the weight of his crown had finally crushed him. His breathing was labored, each intake a struggle, but his eyes, though dimmed, were still sharp with anticipation.
“Ser Harrold,” Viserys said, his voice strained but determined. “Prepare an escort. The Prince and Princess are to be brought from the Dragonpit to the Red Keep with all the honor they are due. Ensure their children are treated with the respect of their station.”
Ser Harrold bowed, his face a mask of concern. “As you command, Your Grace.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the king’s weary form. “Shall I summon the Maester? You seem... unwell.”
Viserys waved him off, his hand trembling. “I’ll see my children first. There will be time for rest later.”
With a nod, Ser Harrold left to make the arrangements, leaving Viserys alone in the chamber. The king took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning heavily on his cane as he made his way toward the door. Each step was a struggle, but the thought of seeing you and Rhaenyra again after so many years gave him strength he had thought long gone.
The courtyard of the Red Keep was filled with anticipation as the welcoming party assembled. Lords and ladies, retainers and servants all gathered, whispering among themselves as they awaited the arrival of the Prince and Princess. Viserys stood at the head of the party, flanked by his Kingsguard and councilors. His gaze was fixed on the grand entrance, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.
And then, you rode in, leading the procession on horseback, Rhaenyra at your side. The sight of you both, after so long, took his breath away. You had changed in the ten years you’d been away—no longer the young man who had left King’s Landing in a storm of rebellion and defiance. Your hair, still the pale blond of your Targaryen lineage, was longer now, pulled back into a neat braid. Your features were more defined, a hardness in your jaw and eyes that spoke of battles fought and won. You wore dark armor, polished but unadorned, the emblem of House Targaryen etched into the breastplate. There was an air of command about you, a strength and resolve that had grown in your years of exile. But there was also something colder, a guardedness in your expression that made Viserys’s heart ache.
Rhaenyra rode beside you, her presence as commanding as ever. Her silver hair, loose and windswept, framed her face, and her violet eyes were fixed ahead, the only hint of her anxiety the slight tension in her jaw. Behind you both, riding on smaller horses, were your children—Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. They sat tall in their saddles, their expressions a mixture of awe and trepidation as they took in the grandeur of the Red Keep.
You dismounted first, your movements fluid and controlled, as you stepped forward to greet your father. Rhaenyra followed suit, helping the children down from their mounts. Viserys felt a lump in his throat as he watched, his eyes lingering on his grandchildren, whom he was seeing for the first time in the flesh.
“Father,” you greeted, your voice formal and cold. The title was spoken without warmth, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of disappointment and disdain. “It’s been a long time.”
Viserys’s heart clenched at the harshness in your tone, the bitterness that lay just beneath the surface. He took a faltering step forward, leaning heavily on his cane. “Y/N...” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You’ve... you’ve grown into a fine man. I—”
“Save the pleasantries, Father,” you interrupted, your voice low but cutting. “We both know why we’re here. You sent Daemon to bring us back after ten years of silence. What is it you truly want?”
The courtyard seemed to still at your words, the gathered nobles exchanging uneasy glances. Rhaenyra stood slightly behind you, her face unreadable as she placed a reassuring hand on Jacerys’s shoulder. The boy looked up at his mother, his eyes wide with uncertainty, but he remained silent.
Viserys swallowed, the pain in his chest worsening. “I wanted... I needed to see you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve missed you both, more than I can say. And I... I want to meet my grandchildren.” His eyes moved to the three boys, his gaze softening. “They... they’re beautiful, Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra inclined her head, her expression guarded. “They are my pride, Father.” Her tone was polite but distant, and Viserys felt the chasm between them, one that had only widened with time.
You turned to Alicent then, who stood beside Otto, her face pale and tense. “Alicent,” you greeted, your tone almost polite but edged with disdain. “Or should I say, Your Grace?” You gave her a curt nod. “I must confess, I’m unsure of how to address you now.”
Alicent flinched at the coldness in your voice, her eyes lowering for a moment as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Prince Y/N,” she began, her voice strained but steady. “It is... good to see you after so long. The king has been unwell, and it is a comfort to him to have his family near once more.”
“Family,” you echoed, the word heavy with irony. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we are. Though I doubt Rhaenyra and I were much of a comfort to him when he chose to marry you.”
Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she forced herself to meet your gaze. “I never wished to cause you or Rhaenyra pain,” she said quietly, her voice sincere despite the tension between you. “I—”
“Stop,” you said, your tone softening just slightly. You could see the pain in her eyes, and though part of you wanted to lash out, you restrained yourself. “This isn’t about you, Alicent.”
Before the silence could stretch any further, Maester Mellos stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Prince Y/N, Princess Rhaenyra,” he greeted, his tone deferential. “Welcome back to King’s Landing. We have much to discuss, but for now, let us focus on your safe return.”
You nodded curtly, though your gaze remained on your father. “Yes, there is much to discuss.”
The tension in the courtyard was palpable as you turned to Tyland Lannister, who had remained silent through the exchange. His face was a mask of civility, though there was a tightness around his eyes as he forced a smile.
“Prince Y/N,” Tyland greeted, his voice strained. “It’s good to see you again. The realm has missed your presence. We hope you’ll find King’s Landing... accommodating.”
You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable. “Lord Tyland,” you said finally. “I hope your brother has recovered from the shock of our departure all those years ago.”
Tyland’s smile faltered, but he kept his composure. “Lord Jason has moved on, as have we all,” he replied, his voice tight.
Before the exchange could escalate further, Otto Hightower stepped forward, his voice smooth and diplomatic. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside, Your Grace, Your Highness. We’ve had food and wine prepared, and there is much to discuss.”
Viserys nodded, though his gaze remained on you and Rhaenyra, his eyes lingering on the boys beside her. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, let us go inside.”
You exchanged a glance with Rhaenyra, who gave a small nod. The five of you—husband, wife, and children—followed the king into the Keep, the tension hanging over the family like a storm waiting to break.
The grand hall of the Red Keep was filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation as the family gathered for the first meal they had shared in over a decade. The long table was set with an abundance of food and drink, from roasted game and fresh fruits to flagons of fine Dornish wine. Yet, despite the luxurious spread, the atmosphere was strained, the tension palpable in every glance, every word exchanged.
Viserys sat at the head of the table, his frail frame dwarfed by the opulent chair. He watched his family with a mixture of relief and trepidation, his gaze flickering between you, Rhaenyra, and your children, and then to Alicent, who sat to his right, her expression carefully composed. On the other side of Alicent were her children—Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena—all of whom sat quietly, their eyes darting curiously to you and Rhaenyra.
You and Rhaenyra were seated directly across from Alicent, your children beside you. Jacerys and Lucerys were trying to appear composed and dignified, their youthful faces betraying their unease in such an imposing setting. Joffrey, the youngest, shifted restlessly in his seat, glancing up at the grand, unfamiliar surroundings. You reached out and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a small smile on your lips.
Viserys cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “It is... heartening to have my family together once more,” he began, his voice weak but sincere. “We have much to discuss, but let us first enjoy this meal.”
The conversation started tentatively, with polite inquiries about the children and your life on Dragonstone. But as the meal progressed, Viserys turned the topic to the elephant in the room, his eyes resting on you and Rhaenyra.
“I understand,” Viserys said slowly, his gaze shifting from you to Rhaenyra, “that you were married in the old Valyrian chapel on Dragonstone. An ancient and sacred place.”
You inclined your head slightly, your expression neutral. “Yes, Father. Rhaenyra and I were wed there, according to the customs of our ancestors.” Your tone was measured, but there was a subtle edge to it. “It is as valid a marriage as any other in the eyes of our house and tradition.”
Tyland Lannister, seated a few places down, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His lips pressed into a thin line as he recalled the enormous sum House Lannister had spent on the grand wedding that never took place, not to mention the damage to the Sept near Casterly Rock. “Of course, Prince Y/N,” he said, his voice strained. “One can hardly dispute the... sanctity of such a union. Though the Sept where... your departure occurred still bears the scars of that day.” He forced a polite smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
You gave him a cool look, your expression unyielding. “I’m sure House Lannister can afford a few repairs, Lord Tyland.”
Tyland’s jaw tightened, but he did not press the matter further, his hand clenching around his goblet.
Alicent, who had been observing the exchange quietly, set down her knife and fork, her eyes lingering on you and Rhaenyra, then shifting to the children seated beside you. There was an underlying tension in her gaze, a restrained irritation that simmered beneath her polite facade. It was a feeling she had harbored for years, one that had only grown as she watched you and Rhaenyra defy everything the realm expected of you.
She couldn’t help but wonder, as she often had, if Rhaenyra had deliberately lured you into her bed before you left for the Dornish border. Had she seduced you, entangled you in her web to secure your loyalty and affection so completely that you would defy the king and steal her away from her own wedding? The thought gnawed at her, though she pushed it down, focusing instead on the repulsion she felt at your union. To her, who had been raised in the Faith of the Seven, your marriage was an affront, a sinful act of selfishness that mocked the very traditions she held dear.
As Alicent’s gaze lingered on your children—on Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey—Rhaenyra felt the weight of her scrutiny. She looked up sharply, her eyes locking with Alicent’s. There was no warmth in Rhaenyra’s gaze, only a cold, defiant challenge. For a moment, the two women stared at each other, the years of bitterness and betrayal hanging between them like a shadow.
“Rhaenyra,” Viserys said suddenly, breaking the tension, his tone filled with a forced cheerfulness. “I must say, the boys have grown strong and handsome. I would very much like to get to know my grandsons better.”
Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from Alicent, her expression softening as she looked at her father. “They are as spirited as their namesakes,” she replied, her voice steady. “Jacerys and Lucerys have been practicing their swordplay, and Joffrey, well... he is still finding his way, but he has the heart of a dragon.”
Viserys smiled, though the effort seemed to cost him. “I look forward to seeing them in the training yard. Perhaps they could even teach their uncles a thing or two.” He gestured toward Alicent’s children, who had been watching the exchange in silence.
Aegon, now a young man, glanced at you and Rhaenyra with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something darker that he hid behind a lazy smirk. Aemond, his face serious, studied you with the intensity of someone trying to understand an enemy. Helaena, on the other hand, seemed lost in her own world, her fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth as she muttered softly to herself.
You looked at your half-siblings, your expression unreadable. “We will see, Father,” you said evenly. “It’s been a long time since we’ve shared such... family activities.”
Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, she almost spoke, her lips parting as if to say something, but then she stopped, her fingers tightening around the stem of her goblet. She looked at Viserys instead, forcing a smile. “The children have missed having their father present. I’m sure it would do them good to spend time with their family,” she said, though her words felt hollow.
Viserys nodded, his eyes distant. “Yes, yes... family. It is what binds us, even when we are apart.” He looked at you then, his gaze lingering on the hardness in your eyes, the guarded expression on your face. “Y/N, Rhaenyra... these years have been difficult for us all. But now that you are here, perhaps we can begin to heal these wounds.”
“We’ll see,” you said quietly, your tone flat. “It’s not so easily done, Father.”
The conversation drifted on, the tension ebbing and flowing with each exchange. The food was eaten, though few seemed to have much appetite. The wine was poured, though most drank sparingly. The atmosphere remained strained, the past casting long shadows over the present.
Aegon, his gaze flicking between you and Rhaenyra, leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “So, what’s life like on Dragonstone, brother? It must be... exciting, living among the dragons and the ghosts.”
You looked at him, your expression cool. “It has its challenges,” you replied, your voice calm. “But it’s home.”
“And the people there?” Aemond asked, his tone more direct. “Do they welcome you as their Prince, or do they fear the dragon that stole the princess away?”
There was a sharp intake of breath around the table, but you merely raised an eyebrow. “The people of Dragonstone know where their loyalties lie,” you said smoothly. “And they respect those who defend them, not those who sit idle in luxury.”
The barb hit its mark, and Aemond’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Alicent spoke up, her voice strained but firm. “That’s enough, Aemond.” She turned to you, her gaze steady. “Y/N, Rhaenyra... despite everything, I am glad you are here. For the king’s sake, if nothing else.”
Rhaenyra’s lips tightened, but she inclined her head slightly. “For the king’s sake,” she echoed, her voice tinged with bitterness.
The uneasy quiet was punctuated by the occasional clink of cutlery against porcelain, the scrape of a chair, or the hushed murmur of a courtier whispering nervously. Though there were many gathered at the table, it felt as if there were only two camps—those who stood with you and Rhaenyra, and those who supported Alicent and her children. And, of course, King Viserys, caught between them all, like a man trying to hold back a tide with his bare hands.
Alicent set down her goblet, her fingers lingering around the base, and cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the table. Her eyes moved from Rhaenyra to you, then back to Rhaenyra, a calculated look in them. “Rhaenyra,” she began, her voice polite but edged with something sharper. “It’s been so many years since you left. We all... wondered what compelled you to take such drastic actions.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose, after everything, you must have had your reasons for eloping and leaving your family behind.”
Rhaenyra stiffened, her fingers curling around the stem of her goblet. “My reasons, as you put it, were very clear, Alicent.” Her tone was steady, but you could hear the barely restrained anger beneath the surface. “I chose to marry the man I love, the man I wanted to spend my life with. That is a choice that, as I recall, was not available to you.”
A sharp intake of breath rippled around the table, courtiers exchanging glances. Alicent’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. “You’re right, of course. Duty has often dictated my choices. But not everyone has the luxury to simply follow their heart, especially when the stability of the realm is at stake.” Her voice was soft, but there was steel in it.
Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “The stability of the realm? Is that what you call forcing me into a marriage with Jason Lannister? All for some political gain?” She leaned forward, her voice rising slightly. “You speak of duty, Alicent, but don’t pretend for a moment that you or your father haven’t benefited greatly from those same decisions.”
Alicent’s face flushed, but she kept her composure. “We all have a role to play, Rhaenyra. You were supposed to be the princess, to stand by your father’s side, not flee to Dragonstone with your brother and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”
Rhaenyra opened her mouth to retort, but you reached out, placing a hand on her arm, your touch gentle but firm. “Enough,” you said quietly, though your voice carried authority. You turned to Alicent, your gaze steady and unreadable. “We did what we felt was right, given the circumstances. And it’s clear those decisions were not made lightly.”
Alicent met your gaze, her eyes searching, as if trying to understand you, trying to find the man she remembered. “And what circumstances were those, Y/N?” she asked, her voice softer now. “What was so dire that it justified breaking your father’s heart and turning your back on the realm?”
You exhaled slowly, your eyes flicking to Viserys, who watched the exchange with a pained expression. “Our father was forcing Rhaenyra into a marriage she did not want, to a man she did not love. And he was willing to do the same to me.” Your voice was calm but firm. “I made a promise to protect my sister, and I will not apologize for keeping that promise.”
The hall was silent, every eye on you and Alicent. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the resentment she tried to hide behind her composed mask. You turned away from her then, focusing on Otto Hightower, who had been watching the exchange with a calculating expression.
“Lord Hightower,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of your title. “Perhaps you could enlighten us on the current state of the realm. I would hope that as heir to the throne, I would be made aware of any... pressing matters.”
Otto leaned forward slightly, a faint smile on his lips as he addressed you. “Of course, Prince Y/N. The realm is... stable, for the most part. The Stepstones remain a volatile area, despite Prince Daemon’s recent efforts. There are still struggles with Dorne, though nothing that threatens immediate conflict.” He paused, his gaze shrewd. “There have been whispers of unrest in the Riverlands, but they have been managed thus far.”
You nodded, though your expression remained serious. “And what of the alliances formed in my absence? Surely, there have been changes in the political landscape.”
Otto’s smile widened, though it did not reach his eyes. “Indeed. Since your departure, several key marriages have strengthened ties with the Reach and the Stormlands. The marriage of your sister, Princess Helaena, to Prince Aegon has also ensured a more unified front within House Targaryen.”
You glanced at Aegon, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and disdain, his mouth twisted into a faint smirk. “And what of your marriage, Y/N?” Aegon drawled, his voice carrying across the table. “I’ve heard many tales of the... unique customs on Dragonstone.”
You shot him a cold look, your patience wearing thin. “My marriage is as strong as any in this room,” you said sharply. “And it is recognized by those who matter.”
Before Aegon could respond, Viserys raised a hand, his voice trembling but determined. “Enough of this bickering. We are here as a family, not as political adversaries.” He looked at you and Rhaenyra, his eyes pleading. “I have missed you both terribly. And I wish to see my grandchildren grow up knowing their family. Whatever has happened, we must find a way to move forward. Together.”
There was a moment of silence, the king’s words hanging heavy in the air. You glanced at Rhaenyra, whose face softened slightly, her anger ebbing away in the face of her father’s frailty.
But Alicent wasn’t done. She turned back to Rhaenyra, her eyes hardening. “And what of your sons, Rhaenyra?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. “You’ve been away so long. Do you ever wonder what kind of life they could have had here, at court? Among their family?”
Rhaenyra’s gaze snapped to Alicent, her eyes narrowing. “My sons are dragons, Alicent. They belong on Dragonstone, among their people, not in this nest of vipers.” Her voice was cold, each word a dagger.
A murmur rippled through the courtiers, tension rising. You could see Otto’s calculating gaze flick between you and Rhaenyra, as if weighing the implications of every word spoken.
Alicent’s face tightened, but she didn’t back down. “I suppose that’s one way to see it,” she said quietly. “But a child should know their family. Even if that family isn’t perfect.”
Rhaenyra leaned forward, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare presume to lecture me on family, Alicent. You, who wormed your way into my father’s bed, who bore children of your own while trying to strip me of everything that was mine.”
The tension at the table was suffocating now, every courtier’s gaze fixed on the two women, their faces pale with the anticipation of what might come next.
Before the situation could escalate further, you interjected, your voice calm but firm. “We will discuss this another day,” you said, your eyes moving between Alicent and Rhaenyra. “This is not the time or place for such discussions.”
Alicent’s gaze flicked to you, her eyes filled with a mixture of resentment and sadness. “You’ve changed, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “You used to care more about... so many things.”
You felt a pang in your chest, but you forced it down, your expression unyielding. “I still care, Alicent. But my priorities have changed.” You glanced at your children, who were watching the exchange with wide eyes, their confusion and fear evident. “My family is what matters now. And I will protect them, no matter the cost.”
A silence fell over the table, the weight of your words settling like a stone. Viserys looked between you and Alicent, his eyes filled with a deep sorrow, as if he were watching his family splinter before his eyes.
Otto, ever the diplomat, leaned forward slightly, his tone soothing. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time. For now, let us focus on what unites us, rather than what divides us.”
Viserys nodded slowly, though his gaze remained troubled. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, let us try to be... a family again.”
The meal continued in strained silence.
The bedchamber in the Red Keep felt both familiar and foreign after so many years. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting dragons in flight and the Targaryen sigil emblazoned proudly on the walls, a constant reminder of your heritage and the legacy you bore. The soft flicker of candles illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the plush rugs and the intricately carved bed that dominated the center of the room.
You stood near the window, gazing out over the sprawling city of King’s Landing, the lights of the city twinkling like distant stars in the darkened sky. The sounds of the bustling capital, though muffled, reached your ears—the hum of voices, the distant clatter of hooves against cobblestone, the occasional call of a merchant trying to sell his wares even at this late hour. It was a strong contrast to the quiet, windswept solitude of Dragonstone.
Rhaenyra was across the room, slipping out of her gown and into a simpler, more comfortable robe. Her silver hair, loose now, cascaded down her back in waves. She watched you from the corner of her eye, sensing the tension in your posture, the heaviness in your shoulders.
“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence that had settled between you. “Are you all right?”
You sighed deeply, turning away from the window to look at her. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration and sorrow. “Seeing him today... I barely recognized the man who was once our father. He’s a shadow of what he used to be.”
Rhaenyra moved closer, her bare feet silent on the thick rug. She reached out, placing a hand gently on your arm. “He’s aged more than the years should allow,” she agreed, her tone laced with sadness. “But it’s not just time, is it?”
You shook your head, your jaw clenched. “No, it’s not.” You turned back to the window, the city sprawling out beneath you, feeling impossibly far away. “It’s them. The Hightowers. Otto, Alicent... they’ve twisted him, manipulated him. I remember a time when he was strong, decisive. Now he seems... broken, as if they’ve drained the life out of him.”
Rhaenyra’s hand tightened on your arm, a gesture of solidarity. “They’ve poisoned his mind with their ambitions. Alicent has always been her father’s pawn, and Otto... he’s wanted to control the throne for as long as I can remember.”
You nodded, your eyes narrowing as you thought back to the day’s events, the way Otto’s gaze seemed to assess every word, every action, always calculating, always scheming. “I saw the way he looked at us today, weighing the situation, trying to find a way to turn it to his advantage. And Alicent...” You trailed off, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “She’s no different. They want to use Father as a puppet, to control the realm through him.”
Rhaenyra sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And he lets them. He let them slither their way into every corner of his life, every decision. He’s not the father who once stood before the council and proclaimed us his heirs, who would have fought for what was right, no matter the cost.”
You turned back to her, your eyes softening as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I know, Rhaenyra. I know. But what can we do? If we push too hard, if we try to wrest control from them, it could tear the realm apart.”
Rhaenyra���s eyes flashed with defiance. “Then let it tear. We have dragons, Y/N. We have strength they can only dream of. We can remind them what true power looks like.”
You shook your head, your expression pained. “I don’t want to fight them, Rhaenyra. I don’t want to start a war. But I won’t let them continue to destroy what little remains of the father we once knew.”
She looked at you, her gaze intense, searching your face for answers, for a way forward. “Then what do we do?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
You took a deep breath, your hand still lingering on her cheek. “We play their game, for now. We show them we’re not weak, but we don’t strike unless we have to. Father needs to see that we’re here, that we’re not abandoning him to their schemes. Maybe... maybe we can remind him of who he used to be.”
Rhaenyra leaned into your touch, her eyes closing briefly as she took comfort in your presence. “I want to believe that’s possible,” she murmured. “But I fear he’s too far gone. Every time I look at him, I see the pain in his eyes, the weight of all these years of being pulled in different directions. I see...” Her voice caught, and she paused, taking a shaky breath. “I see how they’ve taken him from us.”
You pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her, holding her tightly as if you could shield her from the world, from the pain that seemed to seep into every corner of your lives. “We’ll find a way, Rhaenyra. We have to.”
For a moment, the two of you stood there in the low lit chamber, the world outside forgotten as you held each other, drawing strength from the connection that had carried you through so much. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the distant sounds of the Red Keep—the footsteps of guards, the murmur of servants—faded into the background.
“Do you think he’ll see it?” Rhaenyra asked softly, her head resting against your chest. “Will he see that they’ve twisted everything, that they’ve made him into a tool for their own gain?”
You sighed, your fingers gently tracing circles on her back. “I don’t know. I hope so. But even if he does, I’m not sure he has the strength left to fight them.”
Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, fierce and determined. “Then we’ll be his strength. We’ll remind him that he’s not alone, that he still has us.”
You nodded, your gaze steady as you looked down at her. “We’ll fight for him, for the father we remember, for the man who once fought for us. But we have to be careful. We can’t let Otto and Alicent see us as a threat, not yet.”
Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “For now, we’ll play the dutiful children. But if they push us too far...” Her voice trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging in the air.
You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “If they push us too far, we’ll remind them what it means to cross House Targaryen.”
A faint smile curved her lips, and she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I’m glad I have you by my side,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.
“Always,” you murmured, your voice firm. “Now and forever.”
The two of you stood there for a long moment, the weight of your responsibilities, your fears, and your love all intertwined in the quiet darkness of the chamber.
#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd#hotd x y/n#hotd x you#rhaenyra x y/n#rhaenyra x reader#rhaenyra x you#rhaenyra x male reader#rhaenyra targaryen
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The Gone Prince
Daemon Targaryen x brother!Targaryen Reader
I know it has been a long, long, looooong time. I am so sorry for keeping you waiting on that. I am going to return to writing, more or less. can't promise to return to posting every single day, as I did before, but I am going to return to writing and posting. It has been a long time of depressed time, disorganised time and simple no strength time. This part I wrote and rewrote two or three times and I hope you will like what I come up with in the end. Love you all)
Part 1 here
Princess' chambers were big and full of light. It reminded you of quarters of your grandmother, always warm and welcoming to her family. You were sitting there on the sofa, speaking with your niece for the last ten minutes or so. You didn't want anyone to eavesdrop on your conversation, so you approached her later, not during the feast. After that same feast Viserys insisted that Rhaenyra and her family stay in the Red Keep for at least a week or maybe even longer, not wishing for his pregnant daughter to endure two big travels in a row. Also... You had to wait for Daemon to leave her alone. He wouldn't let you talk calmly to each other, not after all these years, you just knew it.
"If the King asked for you, I am glad to have you here." Rhaenyra said, as you noticed hint of coldness in her eyes, probably brought by Daemon's opinion, which he, no doubt, generously shared with his wife. You only smiled in response. You could understand why she didn't trust you fully. And it definitely didn't hurt that much. At least not like it did with your brother.
"You sound just like her, it is crazy." You said quietly. She looked at you confusedly, not understanding your words fully. "Like Aemma." Her expression softened at your words, as her hand came to rest on her rounded belly. "I am sure she is proud of you, watching you from the other side."
"I can only hope so... She never mentioned you, now that I think of it." Princess said. You shrugged, trying to stay calm and nonchalant about it.
"Not many people here did." You tried to hide your feelings behind a smile, something you learned to do long time ago. "I remember her mostly from our childhood. How Viserys was madly in love with her. He often made a fool out of himself and was so scared she would reject him. And Aemma only laughed and smiled at him with so much kindness in her eyes... One time he tried to graciously ride in front of her on the horse to show her that he is a good rider. Poor animal got scared of something and sent him flying face flat on the ground. He was so red in the face, but didn't say a word, I thought he would burst with embarrassment." Rhaenyra laughed, imagining her father at the scene, as you watched her attentively with a little smile on your face.
"I can imagine how amusing that was." She agreed. You nodded, looking away from her, knowing that she was still watching you closely. "Did the King say why he called you back after all those years?"
"To help him. Viserys is... Full of many feelings and guilt is one of them. Guilt for a lot of things, which I am finding out only now. That is one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you." You looked back at her, meeting her gaze. "He wants me to mend the rift in his family." Her smile faded a bit, as she lowered her eyes on her belly. Rhaenyra understood perfectly well what were you talking about without you having to pronounce it. "I was told you were friends with the Queen Consort once, weren't you?"
"It was years ago. I feel like it was the other life." She answered with a sad smile. Rhaenyra looked at you again, her expression once again calm and stoic, almost rid of all emotions. "I once knew a girl, my friend, who was kind, honest, supportive and who looked at bright side of things, who was romantic and hopeful. Now Alicent is different, full of..."
"Spite?" You suggested. The woman nodded slowly, almost unsurely. You sighed, having a strong feeling your emotions about losing someone that close to oneself could be similar in some way. "Tell me, do you think there can be a slight possibility of you getting back to being friends? Or at least... Not at each other's throats?"
"I don't think so. There were many things between us, to lead me to Dragonstone and out of any possibility of mending this. You probably heard about what had happened in Driftmark. She... The Queen showed everyone her true colours. Her true thoughts and intentions behind this righteous facade."
"Lucerys severely wounded her son, I can understand her rage and wish for justice to some extent. Not 'eye for the eye', but still." You argued with her.
"Her son is spewing lies. Both of them. She placed traitorous lies in their minds, spreading rumours about me, about my sons! All of them are just..." She hissed suddenly, grasping her belly and closing her eyes, almost wincing in pain. You shot up from your place immediately, ready to go for help, but Rhaenyra stopped you with a motion of a hand. "I'm fine... Just... Daemon's child is really active." She smiled tiredly, as you clutched your goblet with wine in your hand, distracting yourself from your thoughts with a drink. "Nonetheless... I am not sure there is a way to get through to her." Princess said calmer now.
"If there was a way... A possibility of bringing back this peace, if not friendship. Would you be willing to put the bitter past to rest?" You asked, sitting back on the sofa. Rhaenyra didn't say anything for some time, your words hanging in the air. She diverted her attention from you, watching her maids serving breakfast on the table, long silence surrounding both of you.
"In ideal world... I guess I would want that." She admitted quietly. You smiled to her a bit, nursing wine in the goblet. "She was my friend once, the closest person in this Keep. But what she and her father did..."
"Yes, men like Otto, can influence even the dust to hate the wind." You scoffed, agreeing with her. After seeing what was going on in the Keep, you understood that one of the main roots of problems was the King's Hand. Yes, he helped the King to rule the realms, almost ruling them himself from time to time instead of sick Viserys, but he pursued his own goals first and foremost. You could understand ambitions, it was explainable, but your priorities in this matter were different.
"Alicent isn't innocent. She willingly ate those lies and now she is a spitting image of Otto..." Rhaenyra made a pause, sighing, as she looked at you. "Alicent has that thought that my children aren't... Trueborn. She spreads this rumours everywhere, you know it." You nodded, hearing these rumours already. You had your doubts about it too, but didn't care much, they were children of your niece, that was all you needed to know about their parentage. "Every time I gave birth, she demanded I present my child to her immediately after. She isn't such an innocent girl she claims to be." Your gaze hardened at the realisation. You put away your goblet and looked at Rhaenyra seriously.
"If she orders that you should present your child like this again, don't even move from the bed. I will be near and I will deal with it myself." You promised her. "She can come to you herself if she wishes to see the child so much. And if she doesn't understand why her request is wrong, I will explain it to her personally." You answered her with determination. Princess smiled at you slightly and moved to stand. You helped her up and stepped away from her. "I better give you some space. If I can do anything for you, tell me. And just... Think about possibility of it. Just try..."
"I probably will... Thank you. I appreciate the talk." She nodded, looking at her. While you could see that she still didn't trust you completely, at least you two talked calmly and discussed matters at hand. Just as you were about to leave, the door opened. Daemon walked in, and the air left your lungs at the sight of his figure lightened in the sunlight coming from the windows. His eyes met yours and what little softness he had, instantly turned to coldness and distaste in a second.
"You?" He only said in disgust.
"Me.” You nodded with a sigh. “I am leaving already. Have a good day." You smiled softly at your niece before heading out, not wishing for your brother to get angry at your presence near his wife. He could hate you from the distance, you thought. You could handle it… Even though you were too sober for his hate not to hurt.
***
"It was great!" Jacaerys was almost jumping in his steps excitedly, as he walked a little bit ahead of you. You smiled, taking off your gloves still hearing three loud growls of your dragonbehind you both.
"I am glad you like the ride. They liked you too, little prince." How could you say no to those eyes, when he asked if he could fly with you on your dragon. You understood him, as they were rarity, the first three-headed dragon known to Targaryen House, at least according to the known records.
"Is controlling him different? Different from ours, I mean." He turned to you with a curious look. You shrugged, contemplating your answer.
"You tell me, I only flew on them." His excitement about the new dragon was big. So of course he was curious as to whether or not it was similar to the flight on the one-headed dragon. Vermax wasn't big enough yet, but he flew with his mother already. And you flew on Vhagar with your father or on Caraxes with Daemon too long ago to remember it correctly, so you couldn't really draw the comparison.
"You sure they wouldn't drop me?" Daemon was hesitant, standing several steps behind you, as you petted one of the long necks of your dragon. You turned to him, raising your brow.
"Don't tell me you are afraid." You smirked at your brother teasingly, watching his expression hardening.
"I am never afraid. Not of the dragons, I am a dragon myself!" He exclaimed, earning growl from one of the heads in response. "I just don't know how it would be." Daemon said quieter, glancing between them and you. You smiled, offering him your hand.
"Nuhys zaldrīzes(my dragon), do not fret. You said it yourself, you are a dragon, as they are." He smirked more relaxed, giving you his hand. You pulled him closer, placing his palm near yours. "See?"
"I know what dragons are to the touch, dummy." He scoffed, petting your dragon. You glanced around, making sure noone was there to witness it and kissed him on the cheek. "Hey!"
"Let's go, I want to kiss you in the sky." You smiled at him, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the side of your dragon, to the saddle, hearing his chuckle, as he didn't struggle against your grip one bit.
"I will be next!" Baela’s voice distracted you from your memories. You looked at the excited girl with a little smile. She was eager to fly with you too, but let Jace go first. You nodded to her, knowing that your dragon didn't mind flying several times in a row.
"You sure?" She eagerly nodded at your question. You glanced at her sister, standing beside her, her expression more serious though. "And you, Rhaena?"
"No." She snapped back, almost aggressively. You were a bit taken aback, and even if you didn't want to press her into saying anything else, you still looked at her, contemplating your next words. She glanced at you, noticing your stare and seemingly understanding that she was rude. Under your attentive, but soft eyes she shifted on her spot unsurely and pursed her lips in a thin line. "You cursed us." Rhaena finally said quietly.
"Sorry, what? I cursed you?" You chuckled, not expecting this answer at all. You crouched on the ground to be even with her height and look in her eyes. "What makes you say that, ñuhys bykus embōñys dārilaros(my little sea princess)?" You asked her. She wasn't confident anymore, glancing at her sister, who remained silent, as you talked. You patiently waited.
"Father said you cursed us. Your dragon has three heads which you stole from other dragons. That's why I don't have a dragon." She answered finally, as your heart tingled with pain once again. Strange... And you thought this pain was constant and couldn’t be that prominent anymore. You scoffed in disbelief. Daemon said you cursed their family? His silver tongue and sarcastic side definitely grew over the years. He was more like your father than you thought. You sighed, lowering your head, gathering thoughts of what to say to her.
"Maybe I did. But only because I want to strengthen you. They hatched in my cradle. I never tried to tame anyone and work for success." You carefully said, looking at wary Rhaena again. "I never tried hard to find a dragon and bond with him, make him respect me and listen to me. But you are going to be stronger than me. Like your mother and father one day you are going to tame the strong, mighty dragon. You are going to be more powerful than me, the one who cursed you."
"You are only telling me this, so I won't be mad." She mumbled, but you could tell that she was more at ease with you now.
"Maybe yes. Maybe no. Who knows." You shrugged with a smile, standing up. You gave her your hand. "Come on. They can fit us three. Maybe one of them is the one I stole from you, and he would like you more than me." Rhaena hesitated, looking at you with her eyes, so familiar to you. You could almost see shy Daemon in his childhood… She took your hand nonetheless, still wary, but more trusting you now, as Baela took your other hand with a smile, herself, brave like Daemon. For some reason you felt in peace with yourself at this moment.
***
"You got your mother worried, you know?" You sighed, noticing the boy with an eyepatch sitting under the tree in the Godswood with barely any light around, night dark sky looming over the city already. Aemond looked up at you and turned away from you instantly. You sighed, walking closer to him. While you didn't trust his grandsire and mother fully, the children weren't at fault. They were your nephews and niece, no matter the other blood. "What are you doing here? It is dark already."
"And? I am not a little kid, I can defend myself." He snapped at you, glaring angrily with his one eye at something in the dark. You sat near him, not really caring for his discomfort in the matter. From what you had seen, he was just not used to physical affection, but you didn't reach out for him, you just... Were there.
"I know that. But running away from the castle just because your nephews are there, isn't very brave." You answered almost in a thoughtful voice. He grumbled something in return that you couldn't quite understand. You glanced at him with soft smile. "You can't hide forever."
"They weren't punished! That dick... Sorry." He mumbled, losing his fight after one swear word, apparently being scolded for it beforehand. You only shrugged at this.
"Lucerys did a bad thing. I guess you can say he was kind of a dick that day." Aemond scoffed at this, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "But he's just a child. Like you are. And he tried to protect his family."
"I was maimed!" Aemond exclaimed, tones of Alicent's intonation and voice coming through his childish one. "He cut out my eye, and they were entitled enough to not carry any punishment!"
"Let me tell you something, and I want you to listen to me and hear me out, alright?" You asked him, as Aemond nodded gloomily and almost hesitantly, still being very angry. "If you held a stone over my brother's head, threatening to hit him in the head with it, threatening to kill him, calling him names and telling him that he was going to die screaming, I wouldn't cut your eye out. I would cut your throat."
"That..."
"Would you not protect... Helaena? Or your mother?” You continued with your point. “If someone would have tried to hit them with a stone, insulting and threatening them. If you had a weapon, what would you have done?" You looked at him, as the boy lowered his head, seemingly contemplating your words. He wasn't presented with the other point of view, it seemed.
"I... I would kill those who dared to hurt my family." He sighed defeatedly. You smiled sympathetically
"Aemond, I am not glad that Lucerys went unpunished. He should have gotten at least some kind of retaliation for what he did. Like serving some other House for some time as a ward, or I don't know, limitation of his dragon’s lessons, this is a bad punishment enough for his age. But not carving his eye or killing him. That wouldn't return yours." You pretended you didn't notice Aemond moving closer to you. You just let him be comfortable and at peace with himself.
"But that would bring me satisfaction. That would be fair." He still mumbled. You sighed and smiled slightly, looking at your nephew.
"You would become a great warrior one day, Aemond. Yes, even with one eye, believe me. You have one of the greatest dragons, you have dragon blood and very fiery heart. But one thing that a warrior should know – is when and where to stop. Not becoming unhinged monster to scare little children. But to be a good fighter, a hero they will write songs about."
"Like your father? Prince Baelon The Brave?" You shivered and stopped at this question. Looking at a child beside you, you didn't see him. You almost fell into your memory, where violet eyes were enraged. Brave was the prince who exiled his own son, not accepting anything about him. Brave was the prince who threatened to kill innocent people who just helped his son in his attempts to reach out to his own family. Brave was the prince who called his own son a leech and a taint on their reputation.
"Yes. Like him." You forced a smile and a calm tone. Looking away, you tried to calm yourself. Your father was long gone, but your heart and fear of him showing up behind any corner, was very much present. Irrational and illogical, almost childish. But it still lived inside your soul. "What do you say, should we go inside?" You offered.
"They are still there." He scowled at the thought of going back to his nephews.
"Why don't you try and... Befriend them again? I know you were close with Lucerys before." You noticed, as Aemond scoffed and looked to the side, seemingly angry again in mere second.
"He maimed me. I don't want to be his friend!" He said sternly, but you heard more behind child’s anger.
"Do you miss him?" He looked at you angrily, but sighed, his eye more pained than enraged.
"No!" Boy exclaimed, looking away and almost pouting. He sighed heavily, lowering his head and mumbling under his nose. "He was closer to being my friend though. Even if he teased me for being dragonless, he wasn’t like Aegon or Jace. But he cut out my eye! I hate him!" He added louder. You sighed, taking his hand into yours, choosing your words carefully.
"I miss one person too, you know... A lot. I would give anything to return to that person. And I know they are missing me as well to some extent. But they hate me. It is a strange balance." You started. "I hated them too once. I did horrible things because of them. I lied in their name. I even killed some people in their name. I framed people, I broke laws and all just because of their wish. I made everything they wanted of me." You told the boy quietly, holding his hand, but looking into the darkness of the garden thoughtfully. "My life was destroyed because of them. I was gone because of them. I lost everything because of them." You chose your words carefully, remembering everything that was happening so long ago, it felt as another life altogether.
The commotion from the Throne Room was heard well even in the hallways. You carefully stepped to the door, watching at the events inside quietly and silently. The Lord before the Iron Throne pleaded his innocence, but your father, Prince Baelon appointed to lead this trial, wasn’t going to listen. You stepped aside, when guards were dragging the lord out of the Throne Room through the door you were standing at. When they walked out of the Throne Room, you looked at them.
“What is going on here?” You asked them, feigning innocence. Guards bowed their head slightly to you.
“This Lord was accused of stealing a dragon egg. Prince Baelon sentenced the thief to thelife on the Wall.” One of the guards said. You nodded looking at the panicking and horrified lord, who looked down, seemingly not noticing you.
“That is a fair sentence. That would teach him to keep his mouth shut and not jump over his head, trying to take what is not his.” You said coldly. Lord suddenly shivered and looked up at you, as if suddenly realizing something.
“You… It was you… Let me go!” Lord screamed, trying to get out of guards hands and get to you. You just stepped to the side, letting knights drag the screaming lord away. Familiar footsteps coming from behind, you met with a slight smile.
“Was it the Lord, who saw us and tried to…” Daemon started.
“To threaten you, yes.” You nodded and glanced at your brother. “He is going to the Wall. And don’t ask what I did. Because the answer is nothing.” You walked beside him, slightly touching his shoulder. It was hard to convince servants to place a dragon egg in his rooms, but in the end it was all worth it.
"Do you hate them, uncle?" Aemond asked curiously, looking at you. You glanced at him, almost flinching, as if remembering he was still there. You smiled slightly and put a hand on his hair, caressing his white hair.
"I do to some extent. But I would die for them in an instant. I would kill and do everything I had done for them all over again." You answered him with a sad smile. "I hate them, as they hate me. But I love them at the same time. And I would get destroyed and crushed again for that person. It is... A weird balance."
"Can you... Teach me how to find this... Hate and love?" Prince asked quietly. You nodded.
"Yes, but not here. And definitely not in one day. It's getting cold and you can get sick. You wouldn't want to fall sick and miss our flight tomorrow?" You winked at him, as Aemond nodded with a smile.
"Let's go! I want to hear about that person!" He stood up, waited for you to stand as well and only after that he went to the castle with fast pace. Even being close and quiet child, he was still a kid. You looked at his back, missing the fact that a dark shadow from behind the bushes watched and heard your talk.
***
The flames of candles danced around the dark room. Skull of Balerion brought back memories to you, both of pleasant times and not much. Your life had changed, everything changed. And the family you were supposed to change with, wasn't the one you remembered anymore. Yet you still sought out comfort in this place.
You sighed, turning away from the skull as you heard steps behind you. As you assumed, that was Daemon. Over the years his footsteps became quieter, but still he was too familiar for you not to recognize him. His look was wary, he was tensed up as his hand rested on the hilt of the dagger on his belt.
"You chose a good place for a murder, almost poetic." You noted. Daemon scoffed.
"Don't tempt me." You could argue with him that temptation was more of his job in many ways, but you chose to stay silent on the matter.
"If you don't wish to kill me, I am at a loss of why are you here." You said to him, being pretty honest.
"I wanted to talk to you." He said, stepping to you. You smiled, shaking your head and refusing to admit even to yourself how much this single step made your heart shiver.
"Talk to me? It isn't your usual way. I think you better prefer not to speak with me at all or kill me. Or at least avoid me." You admitted, turning to the skull and igniting the candles, just to get yourself busy with something. "What do you want?"
"Where does the lie end and the truth starts?" He asked in response. You hummed in surprise, definitely not expecting such a question first.
"Such deep thoughts. Why so suddenly?" You heard another step, but you only raised your eyes to look at the skull of mighty beast. You wouldn't dare to fight your own death after all this time if it came to this. You wouldn't dare to fight him ever.
"We are surrounded by half-truths, lies and intrigues. You can fully trust noone and nothing. Tell me, nuha lēkia(my elder brother), how much did you lie?" You glanced across the shoulder at your brother. He was serious, his eyes were fixated on you, but there was something deeper inside him. You shrugged, looking at the fire on the end of a splinter with which you lighted the candles.
"Like many people, nuhor valonqar(my younger brother). A lot." You answered, not understanding why he was talking with you like that. He couldn't possibly know the truth, could he? You didn't tell anyone and made sure to be careful about it. And your father was too… Careful to not leave any trace of what had happened that day.
"I know that. You lied that you love me." He accused you, making you glance at him. "You lied that you will never leave me. You lied that you will protect me." His jaw tensed, and you were sure that this would be the end. Him accusing you of everything and you just accepting it. He probably just wanted to accuse you and be done with it. Suddenly, Daemon raised his head, narrowing his eyes, but not taking them away from your figure. "But I'm not here to tell you about those lies. I want to hear another one."
"You want me... To lie to you?" You laughed quietly, looking at Daemon in surprise. He was silent for a moment, before nodding, strangely serious about it.
"Let's play a game. Lie to me.” He repeated firmer, his hard eyes not changing, as he glared at you. “What did you say to my daughters?" Daemon asked. You raised your brows, not understanding what he was doing.
"What?"
"Lie to me about the things you said to Rhaena." He repeated, stepping closer. You sighed, mirroring this step to the side, keeping the same distance between you two, pretending you were just igniting the candles. Daemon was playing some game of which you knew nothing and wanted you to participate in it as well. And yet you let him have this moment.
"Let's see... I told her about how I cursed our family and how I'm going to make sure that she would stay dragonless." You spoke slowly, unsure smile creeping on your face. At the very least you could have some kind of fun.
"What did you say to Rhaenyra, when I interrupted you that morning?" He insisted, his step echoing through the high arches of the ceiling again.
"That she needs to end Alicent and her children once and for all, no matter the consequences." You simply breathed out, not even turning to him.
"What did you do when Rhaenys was promised to Corlys?" You giggled, remembering what happened such a long time ago. Honestly you were surprised that he remembered that.
"Nothing, I stayed at the Red Keep, not going anywhere." You answered, once again lying, remembering how you sneaked upon their ship, to say goodbye to your favourite cousin of all. Baelon scolded you, when you were returned back to the Red Keep, and Daemon didn't let you go for a week, afraid you would disappear from him again.
"What were you talking about with Aemond?" Another step along with the words. You scoffed, igniting another candle, looking at the flames.
"How he should hate Lucerys and wish him nothing but death." The game was weirdly funny, it almost made you forgot about everything that was brewing between you. Lies flew from your tongue before you could even process it.
"Why did you leave for Braavos?"
"Because I wanted to." You blurted out a lie before realising it. For a moment you froze, slowly turning around. There you saw Daemon barely a step away from you. His eyes became tense, dark violet, as he watched your face after you repeated a lie known to everyone in this game, where you should have lied. "I hate you."
"I didn't ask you to lie about your feelings." He retorted coldly, stepping to you, as you stepped away, your throat dry all of a sudden. "Enough lies. What happened?"
"Nothing." You shook your head and sighed. You wanted him know the truth, yet you also knew that it didn't matter anymore. Not with his family, not after all those years. It would only complicate things. "Daemon, you better go. Just continue hating me, this would be… Right."
"I said, enough lies." He crossed what little distance you had between you, backing you to the candles. Daemon grabbed you by the clothes, watching closely your face. Your heart beat like mad at the mere presence of your brother near you. "What happened?"
"Daemon..."
"What had happened that morning you left? Tell me the truth!" He demanded, his eyes boring into your soul. "I won't let you go before you say. I deserve the truth after your betrayal, after your lies and all the harm and pain you caused me..."
"He saw us!" You exclaimed, having had enough. Your feelings were overwhelming you to the point of just not caring about the consequences. "Our father saw us. He saw you on your knees, saw me in your bed, he saw everything."
"What?" His grip on you lessened, his face frozen with shock and still that angry expression. Yet you made no move to free yourself from his grip.
"He saw us. He learned the truth. And he was so mad at me for... How did he say? Right... "Corrupting you". So enraged hat he just threw me out of the Keep." You blurted out in one breath.
"You lie. If he... He would have punished me as well. Why didn't he punish me, why didn't you write anything to explain anything?" His voice was raising as well, mirroring yours.
"You still don't understand? You were his favourite. Not Viserys even if he was the eldest. Not me even if I listened to him always. You. Mother loved you the most, father adored you. He couldn't comprehend that you could lay with a man willingly. If I was some common whore or even a sister of yours, he wouldn't have batted an eye, but I am a man. And I can't want you, as it's a sin. As I am corrupting and tainting you with mere thought of it, let alone a touch. Putting a disgrace on your name. It was easier for him to believe I made you do this. Easier to hate one son and threaten to kill every person that brought my letters to the Keep. Easier to send dead ravens and tell his own son that he would be burned alive if he even dared to show his face again at his home." You couldn't stop words pouring from your mouth, you were silent for far too long and that pain had never left.
"No..." Daemon shook his head, seemingly not wanting to listen to you anymore, but at this point you had little to no care about his wish.
"And I knew he would be furious if I admit that you were the one to come to me. It would have killed him. And if not... He would have destroyed your life as well. And I lied, yes, I lied, I took it upon myself. I destroyed my life for you. I destroyed my life because of you, Daemon!" You raised your voice at him. He looked enraged and shocked, almost feral in the light of candles.
"Shut up!" He pushed you harshly back. You stumbled to the skull, the impact making you fall onto some candles and hitting your head against an old bone in your fall. You cursed quietly, feeling something sticky on your face. For several moments you layed on the floor, not moving, fighting with the headache and shock. Slowly you sat, grunting, warm wax sliding from under your hands. Your lip was split, as you could feel, and according to some stickiness on your temple, there was at least a gash on your forehead.
You looked up at him, his face not cold anymore, but full of many different emotions. Anger, sadness, fear. You groaned, trying to move. Leaning onto the skull, you carefully stood up, giving yourself a second of rest.
"Y/N, listen, I..."
"You are the Rogue Prince, future King or Prince Consort, King of the Narrow Sea, previous commander of the Gold Cloaks, husband to the heir of the throne and father of her future children." You stated in resignated tone, glancing at his frozen form. "I am the Gone Prince, who spent most of his life in Braavos. I am noone and nothing, with no lands or wealth. I am a leech, who taints the house reputation just by thinking of you. I am father's disgrace." You tried to straighten your back, but sudden nausea hit you, and you bent over, leaning onto the skull once again. "And I am here to help Viserys. Don't dwell on the past, as it can't be returned." You forced yourself to smile and look at him. "Go back to hating me. It would be easier... For both of us." You breathed out, slowly walking away from the basement, Daemon not making a move to follow you.
***
The evening was busy. It seemed that every person in the Red Keep decided to visit you. Firstly, there were Rhaenyra, who was alerted that you asked for maesters. Next was Alicent, who decided to visit you, the atmosphere becoming tense between two women for a hot minute, but they kept their temporary peace. Next was the King. Viserys got really nervous about hearing the news of your wound. He demanded to know what happened and who did this. The answer was simple.
"I fell." You lied again, as the maester cleaned your wound and gave you advices on treatment. After all those people visited you, you were exhausted and confined to your chambers. Following maesters' orders, Viserys forbade you to go out at least for two days. You tried to tell him that it was just a scratch, and you just need a good sleep, but he was too worried. Too afraid to lose another family member, as it seemed. So you relented and just read through some of King's journals he gave you to better understand the situation in the court, occasionally writing something in your notes.
You heard the door opening and closing and some quiet steps. Sighing, you turned the page, not wanting to face the person who entered your room.
"I don't need anything, Jenny, you may go for the night." You said, not wishing to see anyone right now after all of the commotion and noise. Not after the conversation down at the skull...
"I must consider adding that name to the list of my titles." That wasn't your servant. You turned to look at the man, who entered your room. Daemon. Of course. Without his weapon, without his dark attire, in white simple shirt, almost looking like he was fresh out of bath. Boy, did it bring back memories.
"What are you doing here?" You asked, obviously confused. Daemon shrugged.
"Can't I visit my brother, who clumsily fell and hit his head?" He said, making you shake your head with a quiet sigh. "Y/N, we need to talk."
"We already talked. I don't have anything else to say to you, so you are wasting your time here." You turned back to the journal again. There was silence and for a second you thought Daemon would leave you alone. You should have known better. Suddenly there were haste steps, after which the journal was ripped from your hands. You looked up at him, his determined look pointed right back at you. "Dae..." He put a hand on your mouth, shutting you up and making you freeze at the sudden physical contact.
"No! You said you don't have anything to say, so I will be the one who does the talking." He stated sternly, looking in your eyes. You slapped away his hand, but said nothing in response. Daemon sighed, still standing in front of you. "If what you have told me is truth, I didn't know it. Let me finish!" He interrupted you, as you tried to say something. "All these years I blamed you for leaving me without a word. Without a letter or explanation. I... I thought you did something for me again, that was noticed and made you guilty. I thought father found out of what you did to protect me. Then I thought you found someone else, some young pretty boy who adored you more than I did. It was easier for me to hate you." He admitted, and your heart broke a bit at his words ad his expression. You wanted to forget about what had happened and just take him into your embrace and not let go of him. But you both were too far gone for that. And revelation of the truth did provoke this conversation, but it couldn't change everything else.
"It is still easier for both of us to stay away from each other." Daemon scoffed in response to those words, leaning on the table, looking down at you.
"You can't be serious, Y/N. I know the truth now, that it wasn't your wish to leave me. And you expect the hate from me?"
"What do you expect? Us going back to where we left things? You aren't ten and six anymore, Daemon. I am not ten and nine. You are a different person, that I know nothing about. Hell, you have a family and duties." You breathed out, trying to stay calm.
"But I don't have you. And I haven't had you all those years. I have changed, yes. You have changed as well, hell, maybe even more than I have. But the fact that I need my elder brother never changed, no matter how much I hated and despised this thought." Prince looked at you stubbornly. You shook your head, looking at the notes on your table, just not to look at him.
"We can't go back to what we had, Daemon. It is impossible. I can't be your lover. And I doubt I can be your friend after all these years. You are a different person, completely unknown to me."
"Then I don't see a problem with anything. We just start anew." He reached out to you, grabbing your chin, making you look at him, his eyes burning with fire and passion. You pursed your lips, trying to calm your heart that was beating out of your chest just from a single touch of his. You had to learn to control yourself near him all over again.
"What we had was a sin. We are brothers. Even if our blood doesn't stop us as our House has queer customs, we are men. It is viewed as a sin. I won't put your reputation under a hit. The ending will be the same, Daemon. Us parting ways. It was hurtful the first time, there is no need to return to that." You tried to sound convincing enough for both him and you, but his grip on your chin only tightened, as your words sparked him with anger.
"There is no sin in this. This is us. We are both dragons, our blood belong together. There is nothing more true in this world than us. And if it is a part of us, if it is the most real part of us, it can't be sin." Daemon said stubbornly, as you put your hand on his, gripping his wrist in attempt either to bring him back to his feelings or pull it away from you.
"It is. We are brothers and we can't do that. If I was a princess or you were one, everything could be different. But we are what we are and this is wrong.” You lowered your head, leaning back into the armchair. “Father might have been right. If the gods punished me and not helped me all this time, then I am a sinner and a leech."
"Where the fuck did you take all of this, you have never been religious!" Daemon spitted out, looking at you, as his brows furrowed. You just tried to push him away, with your words, with your actions, but he never budged, on the contrary becoming more and more persistent. "Or someone is telling you this? Who is this cunt that spread this nonsense to your head?" He demanded of you.
"Noone, Daemon. This is my thoughts." You breathed out, as the prince sat on your lap suddenly. He had become heavier with years for certain, trainings and battles made him stronger, and you couldn't help but feel the stomach-curling feeling of familiarity of his body against yours.
"You were never like this. You loved me. You loved my body. You didn't think of me as of something wrong." He stubbornly said, as you pressed yourself into the chair, trying to distance yourself from him, even if it wasn't physically possible. "And I know you still feel the same, I can see this in your eyes."
"You are not wrong. I am. I made you like this." You breathed out, putting hands on his shoulders, looking at his hard face. Your repeated your father's words just to get him to see the reason and step back. "Daemon, this is wrong. Please, I beg you, go back to your wife, to your family."
"You are my family. You are my blood. I want to be here with you now, not with them." Daemon stood his ground stubbornly. He didn't want to leave you apparently, but you couldn't have him risk it all again because of you, no matter how much you longed to hold him again in your embrace.
"I can't be the reason to hold you back. You loved them this morning more than anything. You hated me this morning. One conversation can't change that. You love Rhaenyra, you bled for her, you suffered for her, you long for her, you love her, not me and I can't..."
"All this time I was suffering for you. I wanted to forget you, believe me. I tried it all… Whores, wine, blood, killing, everything!" He cupped your face with his hands, looking intensely in your eyes. "I tried. Rhaenyra... She is good, she deserves love. And I love her. But she isn't you. It is different with you, and you know it. And if I had to choose, I would choose you every time."
Your heart clenched at the thought that he tried to forget you. His eyes were honest, and even after all those years away from him, you could always tell when he was telling the truth. He was sincere in his words at this moment. But you couldn't let him do that again. You didn't want pain for you, nor for him.
"Daemon, you are talking on emotions. You miss what we had once, but... Fuck, don't make this harder than it is." You pleaded with him, every reason to leave everything as it was fading in the face of his confidence and determination. You were losing this fight and couldn’t come up with any more reasons or words to convince him. To convince yourself.
"You are the one making it harder. Lēkia, you told me yourself once, we were born from one flame and blood. We were supposed to be together. I cried only for you, not one person saw my tears, because you are the only reason for them. I didn't mourn father, grandsire, Aemma, Laena, noone. I cried for noone but you. I need you in a way no word in Westerosi or Valyrian can describe. Now more than ever." He whispered, inching closer to your face, as something inside you was slowly breaking.
"Daemon..."
"Start with me anew. There is no reason for worry, I promise. All the time you stayed away, you protected me. You lied, you..." He scoffed, remembering your words he heard in the garden. "You destroyed your life for me. Let me now rebuild it."
"Daemon..." You touched his cheek, shuddering at the long forgotten feeling of his skin under your touch.
"Let me think for the both of us this time, Y/N." He squeezed your cheeks in his palms, looking in your eyes. "Let us sing dragon's song together again. Like we never stopped."
You breathed out, looking in his eyes. You saw anger, flames of indomitable passion dancing in his eyes, violet irises determined and fiery. He wouldn't step back. Even if he still felt some hate for you, even if he loved his family he had, you were something different for him. You were his centre, around which his world was turning. As he was your centre in return.
And you gravitated to your dragon, like always, leaning into him.
The Gone Prince Taglist: @wai-who @midnightprincess18 @fan-goddess @weird-addiction @rawinia @cannibalcoyote @cherry1a @darlinqvi @caelumwingstar @louventcavaliersx @parca0charos @azrealbanerstark @britany1997
#house of the dragon#hotd#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#reader insert#x reader#male reader
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The Hour of the Wolf (10)
X. Lurking Shadows
MASTERLIST
Summary: Keep your friends and your husband close… and your enemies? Well…
Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader
Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, pregnancy!, fear of childbirth, discussing death in childbirth and all that comes with it, unrealistic birthing scenes, (I mean, what would I know really?)
+18, MINORS DNI
Wordcount: 3,4 k
Notes: Sorry for the delay, I think I lost my connection to this story. I know some of you didn’t like where this was going, the reader being so “defenseless” without Cregan, I had to re-read the whole thing to truly return to it.
Summary: Keep your friends and your husband close… and your enemies? Well…
Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader
Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, pregnancy!, fear of childbirth, discussing death in childbirth and all that comes with it, unrealistic birthing scenes, (I mean, what would I know really?)
+18, MINORS DNI
Wordcount: X k
Notes: Sorry for the delay, I think I lost my connection to this story. I know some of you didn’t like where this was going, the reader being so “defenseless” without Cregan, I had to re-read the whole thing to truly return to it.
After that horrid and terribly realistic nightmare, you never saw your uncle again, neither in the realms of dreams nor the realms of men, so that was a relief
But how could you see him? He was dead, he couldn’t hurt you anymore…
It took you a while to fully comprehend that, the next nights were tormentous, but then, something happened that brought you back to reality…
Your baby started kicking
You smiled as you felt the little kicks inside of you and touched your belly, that certainly grounded you, it made you come back to reality as of sorts, and it made you more focused, you attended every meeting, you held audiences, and you even appeared more in front of the people of King’s Landing, that gathered every afternoon chanting for you.
You were blooming, and even though you had relayed in Cregan a lot, you were beginning to settle in your post, without a hand.
But you missed him, terribly, specially at night
days turned quickly into weeks, and then into months, and soon you could barely move, you grew tired quickly, you devoured everything you could during meals, and your babe moved tirelessly inside of you, specially at night
It had moved so much last night, that today at the small council meeting, you were fighting to not fell asleep
You couldn’t help it, you closed your eyes for barely a second, and you managed to open your eyes again, your lords were looking at you with kind eyes and soft smiles
“I’m so very sorry”, you muttered, rubbing your belly, trying to accommodate in the uncomfortable wooden chair
“You have nothing to be sorry for, our gracious lady”, muttered Lord Lannister, “perhaps we should move the meeting”
“No! no”, you insisted, “please continue”
“A new prince or princess to the seven Kingdoms, heir to the Iron Throne will be born soon, is a matter of great celebrations, a ray of hope, an unmistakable sign that the war is over and new times are coming, a new era of dragons, we should celebrate”, Lord Redwyne was a great narrator
“I agree”, said lord Celtigar, “the people need new things to look forwards to, I can see it from reports all over the Kingdoms, everyone should know”
Celebrate an heir you still didn’t have in our arms, gods, it was almost too similar of the story of Queen Aemma, your grandmother, as was told by your mother
“He or she isn’t born yet”, you said softly, and you had come to terms with the fact that there is a big chance you would perish in childbirth, but you were hopeful
“We are aware your grace”, muttered Lord Lannister, “but… as Lord Celtigar said… the people need a reason to celebrate”
“That might be true but, what if we do it after? after the birth, we should send word all over the Kingdoms, and then… when we have her or him in our arms, then we celebrate”, your lords seemed to realize what you were implying, and they of course nodded understandably
“Have we received word from our Lord Cregan?”, asked the maester
“Only his weekly reports of advances in the restoration of the North”, said quickly Lord Celtigar, who was indeed seating in your right as he was the hand
“The one who keeps demanding an audience is still… Lord Corlys”, you looked away, not wanting to face the man, perhaps you were being childish, but… you could not face the man that was supposed to be your grandfather by name
“I don’t want to see him”, you said shortly
“Very well”, muttered Lord Redwyne, “He has send his bastard son Adam, to the capital, to seek an audience”
“I’m sure he doesn’t actually need anything”, muttered Lord Celtigar, “he is looking for a way in”
“Perhaps a meeting with our own master of coin would ease him enough to stop bothering us?”, you tried
“That will do your grace”, muttered Lord Redwyne
“Any other news of importance?”, you asked after a long sigh, rubbing your belly, your back had started to hurt
“We have completely lost contact with the Citadel, and oldtown”, confessed the Maester, everyone looked at him, concerned
“Explain”, you demanded
“The situation was delicate after the end of the war, I have trusted brothers with which I exchange letters and they have all stopped”, that did truly concerned you
“What about the Hightowers?”, you asked then
“The last report is that they received tons of grains from the Tyrells and then they… stopped sending reports as well”. You took a long breath
“Should we… send someone to Oldtown?”, you suggested
“That would be best”
“Escorted by an army and a dragon?”, you continued, the lords were nervous and they exchanged looks between them
“Your Grace has a point, to send only lords would be a mistake”
“We cannot jump to arms against Oldtown for no apparent reason”
“Keep trying to contact your people, anyone, inside Old Town, if in a moon we don’t get any more news, we will gather a small force, and choose an envoy”, you commanded, and they all nodded
Finally they released you as the sun was setting, and you thought about taking a nap, but if you did, then you were not going to be able to sleep at night, so you decided to go to the gardens to enjoy the sunset
You liked to think you didn’t need a master of whispers, that you knew fairly well what was happening in your Kingdoms, but apparently… not…
He came unannounced, one second you were watching a beautiful winter rose bush, and the other, a presence came rushing to you unannounced, you raised your eyes and you thought you were dreaming
Cregan, you gasped with a wide smile, but it wiped quickly when you saw his scowl
“I thought you were happy with me, with our marriage”, you frowned as you looked at him, this is the first words to you for months?, “I thought this is what you wanted”
“It is! I am happy!”, you said quickly
“You must despise it, despise me, if you kept this from me so…”, you took a step towards him and around the bush, he got quiet when he saw you, the roses were hiding your round form but now he looked at you with wide eyes and open mouth
You looked so, so beautiful, in his mind, he had never seen anyone so breathtaking as you
He quieted himself and jumped to grab you in his arms and kissed you hungrily, all his anger slipped away from his mind and from yours and he wrapped his strong arms around you and held you lovingly and tightly
“I fucking missed you, you resentful little creature”, he growled, against our lips, right before he nibbles on your lower lip making you whimper
“I missed you”, you whispered, kissing him back, “So much”, you promised, gasping desperately against his lips, against the short beard he was growing.
There was no more time for anything else…
. . .
Soon he had you naked in your rooms, resting on his chest after he actually proved to you how much he had missed you, and grabbing you so tightly as a way of a small punishment
“how did you manage to come without being announced?”, you asked, hugging him tightly
“I have my ways”, he muttered back, “but I really need to know”, he said, his voice choking with worry, “why?”, he asked, still caressing you, “I’ve been going over it over and over and many answers come to mind, none of them pleasant”, he needed an explanation of why you kept this from him, and you understood that
“I wrote you a letter”, you defended yourself, he signed, “You didn’t receive it?”
“I did not”, he muttered
“It was moons ago, explaining why I didn’t tell you, told you I missed you and asking you to return, then I received a letter from you asking me to go up there, and I couldn’t, I didn’t want to chance it”, you whispered, he caressed your belly tenderly, and it felt as good as you imagined it, his big warm hand, your babe kick inside your womb, making Cregan chuckle
“Have you been able to sleep?”
“Not when I eat strawberry tarts after the tea hour, then… it moves a lot”, you answered, Cregan laughed softly
“Well, you are carrying a wolf pup in there”, he teased
“Or a dragonling”, you answered back.
“oh gods, how could you let me leave you like this”, he said, he truly, truly felt bad
“When you got sick, and were about to die”, you confessed, “you whispered your son’s name in your fever induced dream, and I realized that if you were truly going to die, you were never going to see your son again, if you knew I was pregnant, you wouldn’t have gone North for another year or so, and your people needed you”.
He thought about it for long minutes, thinking about everything you had told him. And he sighed
You were right
“But what if something… had happened to you?”, he asked then
“I devised a plan, and I made everyone swear on it”, you confessed
“Which was?”, he asked
“If I perished in the birthing bed… My brother was to be crowned King, with the same council, and four regents to rule in his name until he became of age… Jeyne Arryn of the east, you, from the North, Lannister from the West, and a Tyrell from the South”, he nodded, “if our child had survived me, regardless, I asked them to give him to you, with a dragon egg…”, you told him, he was resigning her own children’s crown only for him to go back home where he wanted to be
“Well, it was a good plan”, he whispered. But he felt chills at the very thought of raising a little dragon without her beautiful dragon Queen by his side. Without even realizing he held you more tightly against him.
“But we will not come to that”, he said severely, “but I will go with it, if anything happens”
“Alright”, you whispered, “good to know”
But he was back now, no harm was going to come to you as he remembered the tumultuous this last weeks had been for him…
It took him weeks, a whole moon, maybe two, to get back to King’s Landing, more than he ever thought possible, he had to move a big group of people and as such, it required time… You could have given birth by now.
He thought about it again and again, to where it might have gone wrong.
Well, he now knew the reason why you couldn’t travel up North to meet him, because you were pregnant, he really appreciated you were being careful, and if the reports from the small council had any truth to them, you were doing great in the command of the Kingdoms, without a hand to help you.
You were truly magnificent
You had managed to send compensations and start reparations for everything that needed repairs after the war, even though some town were ages away from truly recovering, you had even started talks with Dorne
It was a new age, and you were shining like the fire your family incarnated
He was truly proud
And as Cregan was in the White Harbor, trying to sail south despite the weather, he had to prepare his son and leave him to travel behind with a stronghold of his house to come with im, including maesters and cooks, anyhow, he rode his steed from Winterfell to the White Harbour, he was so desperate he made the trip in half the time it took him last time, and then he sailed on a small, faster ship, back to the capital, he wasn’t even announced, he traveled almost in hiding, hoping nothing bad was going to happen, and it didn’t
That is why he could travel so fast, like no man has ever done before.
In a moon, his son and a small army was going to reach King’s landing, but the important part is that he made it… you were still pregnant, and he could accompany you through the birth, and… he was going to be here, to be with you
“Please don’t ever keep something like this again, I thought we were trough that”, he reprimanded, and you nodded
“Yes husband”
You promised, inside this room or when it was just the two of you, you were his wife, not his Queen, and… it was hard to balance both, but he was patient, and you were smart.
In the next day Cregan would spend his days trying to get ahold of the current situation in the Kingdoms, and he felt somewhat unneeded, you were doing great without him, but he was happy to be back to take over so you could rest, as he had been told that you were falling asleep sometimes.
He was very concerned about the situation in Old Town, truly concerned, that was dangerous, but at the same time, he didn’t want to risk anyone from the small council, good thing though they had the Lannisters on their side this time
“We should call in the Tyrells”, you muttered as you ate a strawberry miniature pie, “make sure their alliances are still with us”
“Good plan”, he said over breakfast, “that way they will know they are alienated”
You had a bad feeling over the Hightower situation, it made you truly nervous. Summing up to the fact that Cregan wouldn’t leave your side.
It's like he didn’t trust you anymore, he was looming over you, watching you closely. Whenever you had an audience or a meeting he was right beside you
You had grown impossible bigger, you could barely move, you had to call in your maids and ladies in waiting again, for you couldn’t even put on shoes without assistance.
Your only consolation is that your baby was kicking wildly every morning, and according to the maesters, she or he was healthy and ready to come out at any moment.
You had also seen them very nervous, consulting with the stars and other methods to calm the small council about your own wellbeing, nobody said it outloud, but you could see the worry in their faces
Also according to the maesters, it was a 50/50 chance that you’ll perish, taking into account your family’s history, but they were hopeful, because you, as Queen, as access to the best maesters, and as it was more at stake, they were going to take great care of you.
Besides, your mother had given birth to 5 healthy boys, and you, and survived seven pregnancies.
But her mother didn’t
You tried not to think about it
The small council, despise it all, were hopeful and had huge celebrations planned for the arrival of the future Prince or Princess
You were concerned about the future, of you, and of your child, but that was reduced to nothing as suddenly, when you were getting dressed, you felt like a fountain inside of you collapsed, and you released a large amount of water
“The babe!”, cried your lady in waiting, “fetch the maester and the midwives!”, she commanded quickly
Cregan had left early to go on a mission deep in the city, and he wasn’t in the castle when the midwives came to you, changed your clothes to a simple nightdress, and laid you there in your own bed.
You started crying out in pain as the contractions began, and according to the midwife, it could take all day, the process was long
“Mmmmm”, you moaned in pain, “I need to be on my feet”
“My Queen!”, you wouldn’t take no for an answer, they help you up and you walked around the room, rubbing your back with one hand and your belly with the other
You needed to obey what your body needed, and you felt relieved as you walked around, taking deep breaths
“You are doing great, your Grace”, they encouraged, the sweet ladies.
Another construction swept over you
“Notify the small council, and please try to find my husband”, you begged them, and they nodded and one of them ran to fulfill your command
But your sweet and calm disposition didn’t last long
“THAT FUCKING CUNT!”, you screamed, hours later, laying on your bed, legs spread wide open, “I fucking hate him for doing this to me”, the oldest of the midwives just smiled, having flashbacks of Rhaenyra when she gave birth herself
“Not long now, sweet Queen”
The small council was gathered, nervously waiting for news of you, they had servants all placed from the small council chambers to your rooms, so they could know what was happening.
“I had commanded the high Septon to keep our Queen in his prayers for the last week”, muttered lord Redwyne, who was very devout, but, it was not of great comfort to the remaining men in the room
“She will survive this”, asserted Lord Celtigar
“The maesters and midwives agree that it was a easy pregnancy”, affirmed the Grand Maester
They didn’t know what else to talk about
“Where is Lord Cregan?”
“He reached the Queen’s chambers”, said the Lord Commander, entering the room
“Good”
You felt so relieved when you saw Cregan entering your chambers, kneeling by your side
“Your Grace, is not customary for the King to be present during the Birth”, muttered the lead Midwife
“i don’t care”, he leaned in, kissing your sweaty forehead
“Are you alright my love?”, you barely nodded, grabbing onto him and the bedsheet, preparing for the next contraction that made your whole body tremble
“They are more close to each other, I think it's time”
“It hurts so much”, you cried, the grand maester showed up then, and made you drink the last of milk of the poppy that was allowed for pregnant women
Cregan looked at the scene concerned, there was no blood yet, and it had been barely a couple of hours so, he was optimistic, you were in good health, and he was there by your side, it had to be alright, it had to.
“Alright, when the next contraction comes, your grace will start pushing, alright?”, you barely nodded, grabbing onto Cregan so tightly he was afraid you’d snap his hand, turning his bones into dust
And it washed over you, more intense and painful than the ones before, with a scream, you did exactly that.
You had never done it before, but it felt like your body knew exactly what to do
But you have never been in so much pain in your entire life
Never
“Again”, demanded the Midwife, and you were really losing it in the pain
“There's blood”, muttered Cregan, truly concern
“That is normal your grace”, the pain never left you now, it took ahold of you and wouldn’t let go
You started crying, you were in so much pain you feared that there was never going to be relief again.
“Don’t cry my love, you are doing great”, he whispered against your temple
“I’m scared!”, you cried
“Again your grace please, I can see the head”, encouraged the youngest and sweeter of the midwives
“Arrrggghhhhhh!”, you screamed at the top of your lungs
. . .
Fast steps could be heard against the stone walls of the Keep, resounding in the empty corridors
The sun was hiding in the horizon when a young boy interrupted in the small council chamber, where the men inside jumped at the intrusion
“What has happened?”, demanded Lord Lannister
“The Queen!”, he said hastily, there were the longest seconds as he regained his breath
“Well? SPEAK BOY!”, demanded Lord Redwyne, he took a long breath and then he finally managed to spoke
“She is well, and we have a Prince! my lords! a boy!”
They all jumped from their seats and hugged one another
“A prince! send the ravens to every corner of the Kingdoms!”
“Long live our Queen!”
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My Lady Strong (VII)
Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?
word count: 3,051
CW: MDI 18+, toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, bullying, co-dependancy issues, not beta read.
Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen
Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part
disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my Original characters
Her mother sat across form her, staring awkwardly. She seemed as nervous as Aemma did. It was strange thing, her mother had once been her favourite person, other than Aemond that is. They had been so close, and now she stared at her, she couldn’t help but wonder what she had done wrong, how she had screwed up and ruined their relationship.
But sweet Aemma could only think of what Aemond had said, for her it was the most reasonable explanation, seeing as her mother had just left her, she had not argued much about her retuning to the red keep instead of Dragonstone. Perhaps she had felt betrayed, hurt that she perhaps defended Aemond before Luke. But why would she? Until today she had very little happy memories of her brothers. Whereas with Aemond, she had all of her happiest memories with him, and he had so swiftly pushed the negative ones from her mind, so swiftly she had started to think she had made it all up.
And now as her mother stared at her, with them both having no words to say to the other and using her brothers as shields so much so that she found she could enjoy her brother’s company.
“You know we used to be so jealous of you, you know” Luke had said absentmindedly, as they ate their lunch. Her mother had said nothing, only nervously pulling at her fingers, as if trying to figure something out.
“Really?” she asked, “I had always thought you hated me.”
“No!” Jace said abruptly, “no we didn’t, we envied you, you were always mother’s favourite. Its why we did all of those things, we wanted her to hate you and love us” he looked down ashamed, “we are sorry Aemma,” they had apologised repeatedly, begging for her forgiveness, and for the first time, she actually considered forgiving them entirely , perhaps forgiving them would give her mother a reason to talk to her, to acknowledge her.
“I know, and it is in the past now.” she said before she turned and looked to her mother, she took a deep breath before slowly trying to start a conversation with her, “I hear you are pregnant again.”
`Her mother nodded, a shy smile on her face “yes, dōna riña, I had mentioned it in one of the letters I sent you.”
Letters? That had confused her, and from the way her head shot up at the words, showing her mother just how much the word confused her “Letters? I never received any letters.” She shook her head, “the only one I received was the one sent last week, from Jace and Luke.”
“What are you talking about, dōna riña? I- “
Aemond entered then, cutting her mother off, she had thought it was almost as if he had sensed her distress, though in truth he had been listening on the other side of the door.
The room filled with silence, and Luke shrunk in his seat. Aemma however shot up in hers. “Aemond? Have you come to join us?” She asked eagerly.
He smiled; happy she was eager for his company. “As much as I would…. enjoy it, I am not, dearest, I have come to escort you, to your last dress fitting” he nodded, smiling as she quickly stood.
“of course,” she spoke, before turning to look at her brothers and mother, “I- sorry to cut this short but I must go” she then turned to look at her mother directly, “perhaps you could come with me?” she asked nervously.
Her mother seemed shocked at the invitation but not unpleased, “oh course…I’d love too” to though she could sense some unease at the response, as if her mother wanted to carry on with their previous conversation, a conversation Aemma had quickly lost interest in.
She cared not about the letters, she had sent hers and received nothing in return, why should she trust that her mother did in facts send any when she hadn’t gotten a single one but had gotten Jace and Lukes.
Aemond scowled behind her at the invitation, before quickly correcting it to a smile “how delightful” he mused, offering his arm to Aemma, as her mother stood to join them.
The walk had been an awkward one, not that Aemma had seemed to notice, as she rambled on about nothing in particular, seemingly eager to find this time to win her mother over once more.
“I had mentioned in the last le- “
Aemond cut her off, “my sweet, I why don’t you tell your mother of your gown?” He had calmly suggested, though Rhaenyra had been quick to notice his interruption both times the topics of letters where mentioned, but she couldn’t say anything, as Aemma quickly explained in great detail how her dress looked and changes they had made to it.
But Rhaenyra was starting to see the hold the greens had on you. Her sweet Aemma had always been so easy to convince and persuade. Gods Rhaenyra thought, she should have stopped whatever had gone on between Aemma and Aemond in their youth the second it started. And yet Aemond was the one thing that had always brought her joy, and it seemed the same now. She hated it. Hated how she should have forced her to Dragonstone. Forced her away from Aemond, away from the green’s clutches.
As it was transparent why her daughter did not see her hundreds of letters, letters of longing or love, comfort. And she in return received non either.
She had sat and thought on this during the whole fitting, eager for them to be alone so that she could once more talk to her Aemma. To convince her she had sent letters, had not forgotten about her, stopped loving her.
But she also had realised something, the bond she had with her ladies, with Heleana and…Alicent.
Her ladies seemed so close to her, a comfort even. Something Aemma had never had before, friendship, sisterhood. And now she had it, especially with the lady Cassandra. Her bond with her reminded her of the old bond she had had with Alicent, and it did seem it did for Alicent also.
So much so that Alicent seemed to have taken Rhaenyra’s place as her mother. She was so soft with you, and kind. She had been always in truth. Especially once your friendship with Aemond became apparent.
Rhaenyra couldn’t help but think she had truly missed so much, she had thought her daughter a prisoner, trapped, alone. And perhaps she had been, until Alicent wrote to her of her daughters need for ladies. But know, especially once her day gown was back on and Aemond entered once more, it seemed her sweet Aemma was happy. A happiness the greens had deprived her from having known or experienced with her daughter.
“Rhaenyra” she heard a voice say, a voice she realised was half-brother Aemond’s.
“Yes?” She saw Aemma being led to a corner with her ladies.
“Is there something on your mind” it seemed he was teasing her, and he was.
He had never liked his half-sister; in fact, he despised her. And now he knew she realised, realised the letters were never sent, and burnt upon arrival, he had her in the palm of his hand.
Aemma believed him, she trusted him, where she doubted her mother.
Rhaenyra scowled “you know exactly what’s on my mind, tell me the truth of it’.
He smirked, “hmmm, I do not know what you mean”.
“Yes, you do” she insisted, “my own daughter thinks I abandoned her, I know those are not her own thoughts”.
‘Oh, please, I only told her what she was already thinking” he smirked.
“That cannot be true” she seethed.
“you’re not going to fix your relationship by arguing with me now are you?” he smiled, and Aemma called him over, “whether you like it or not she is to be my wife and to my Aemma, I will be here for her, and you…you will be swiftly heading back to Dragonstone, leaving her yet again” he quickly left before she could reply, not that she had much to think on as she knew everything Aemond had said was true.
After the dress fitting, Aemond had walked stayed in her rooms as her everyone else left, he seemed to smile at how she had nearly begged him to stay.
“Do you believe my mothers words?” she had asked once they had all left.
“no” he answered swiftly, moving to sit beside her, “she is simply covering herself”.
“But she seemed so nervous and egar to- “
“She has simply realised her error in ever letting you leave her side” he mused, grabbing her chin softly, “she only cares for your brothers my sweet- “
“but my brothers said that the only reason they ever… that they were only mean to me in envy because mother cared for me so much” she cut him off, moving her head, only for Aemond’s grip on her chin to tighten, “that now they wish to be closer to me, that hey regret trying to make mother hate me-“
“that’s because they one, sweet.” Aemond interrupted, moving his other hand to caress her cheek, “don’t you see? There only goal was torment you and make your mother see you as a burden so they would become her favourite instead! And after Driftmark… think Aemma you had desired to be with me no matter what, to the pint your mother left you with me to go with your brothers, there plan worked sweet.” He hummed, moving his hand and tucking her hair behind her ear, “and now they have come back here, realised they you had noticed their swift disregard of you, realised how you favour me still and have tried every effort to win you back over.”
She looked down, nodding her head, “I suppose you are right, but still… all I have wanted was to marry you, and be close with my mother and brothers, I have never wished for a divide, perhaps if I forgive them they will stay and we will grow as close as they talk about.
He gripped her again, roughly, “don’t be stupid, that’s there plan they wish to woo you and have you side with them!”
“What do you mean?” she asked, close to tears, not at Aemodsn grip but at confusion, she didn’t know what to think, only knew that she had always believed Aemond, and hated how she had seemingly angered him.
“Do you wish to be my strong lady once again, hmmm” he mused, and she flinched.
She had hated those three words, the words that still haunted her and the words she had learnt were true.
“I- no I don’t” she shook her head.
“If you side with them, you betray me and you betray the farce your mother has raised you under.” He declared, standing up, “I shall see you at dinner” he walked out swiftly after, leaving her to think, and her dreams to stew.
Viserys and demanded the whole family attended dinner before the wedding, there wedding was to be held to unite the family, and yet even at this dinner the family showed clear divisions, greens on one side, blacks on the other.
Her grandparents and stepsisters had arrived a few hours before said dinner, though Daemon was still noticeably at yet to arrive. Not that Aemma minded, she minded, she didn’t know him and her only impressions of him were negative ones.
Aemma was sat with Aemond to her left and Jace to her right. Though she mostly kept to herself, with Aemond glaring at her mother, not that she noticed, and Jace talking to Baela, who sat beside him.
She seemed to be in her own head, her thoughts circling non-stop, her dreams playing on repeat, changing at every second, at every glare or snide remark.
But when the speeches started to come, they changed even more, the blood shed fading and dragons stopped dancing.
“I would like to toast to my sister” she heard Jace say, as he smiled down at her “we may not have been close in our youth but I non the less wish you all the best in your marriage”.
She smiled, moving to stand for herself before starting her own speech. She was never one for talking so publicly, even before her family. “I too would like to toast in kind, I hope that this marriage will open up the chance too untie us once more and allow for our family to no longer be divided by the black water” she spoke nervously, but made eye contact with her grandsire, Corlys who gave her an encouraging smile.
The table clapped, happy at her words, and her grandsire, Viserys, even more pleased.
The speeches stopped for a moment, the table content, and her mind even happier.
Then the pig was brought out, and Lukes laugh sounded from the other end of the table.
She felt Aemond flinch beside her, he went to stand, shaking of the hands she gripped him with. And ignoring her pleas.
“I would like to share a toast also, a toast to my future wife” she looked at him, dread filling her, memories swiftly changed by Aemond’s words flooding back to her, and her dreams returning in kind.
The flash of her body falling.
Her sons head rolling.
“I have long awaited to marry her, and now on the morrow she shall be my strong lady wife” She flinched, her brothers scowled. “I pray our union with be as strong and fruitful, as my bride wishes”.
He gave her a look; a warning and she knew that no matter what side she went with her dreams of blood and dancing dragons would become true.
The dinner had ended swiftly after that, her mother claiming the babe had tired her, and swiftly pushed her brothers out the door, in an attempt to prevent whatever Jace’s bawling fists were planning.
Aemond had escorted her back to her chambers, there walk quiet, but the second they stepped over her room’s threshold, he slammed the door behind him.
“You made a decision now hmm? You claimed your want for peace and yet it brought you the opposite, so tell me Aemma” he sneered “is that what you still desire hmm, or do you wish to finally see that the only peace you get shall be with me?
Flashes of silver and dancing. Not dragons but them, she smiled and danced, a hand holding her stomach.
“your right” she looked down, “I- I don’t know why it thought that perhaps we could all be united and happy, I was wrong , you were right.” she grabbed his hand, “please Aemond, don’t make me lady strong again, I swear I will only trust you from now on”
Aemond smiled, his words had one her mind once again, she was so tightly held in his grip that she would never escape him, not that she seemed to want to. For Aemond knew she knew the consequences of that. He didn’t know of her dreams but her knew she knew bloodshed would be inevitable.
“good” he smiled, caressing her cheek, “now gets some rest, on the morrow we shall be wed” he smiled, a true smile of happiness, and she seemed to return it in kind.
She had a dreamless sleep that night, and yet it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. She was awoken swiftly a dawn, much to her relief filling the room with chatter. Questions being asked left and right, joy on their faces for her wedding day. She was nervous, nervous of the wedding of what was to come.
She was swiftly washed and dressed, and as the wedding gown was put on her, nerves seemed to leave her body, and for the first time that morning she joined her ladies in there smiles and laughter.
Alicent and her mother soon came to get her, her grandmother accompanies them. They gave her good wishes, and her mother seemed to send her a look of Farwell, as she stepped into, her carriage, were she met her grandsire Corlys.
She smiled as she saw him, with him having visited her several times over the years, sometimes with Rhaneys or one of her new sisters also.
It was a weird feeling, begin close to man she now knew had no relation too, then her own mother.
“Dear Aemma” he greeted her with a smile.
“grandsire” she greeted him back, “are you to walk me down the aisle?”
He nodded, as sad look on his face, it should have been Laenor walking her, and d he had come to fill in his place “I am, dear”.
The rest of the short ride was sent in comfortable silence, the next words were ones of luck as they stepped out into the dragon pit.
The crowd was filled with lords and ladies throughout the realm. She knew few of the faces that greeted her and Corlys as they walked down the aisle, though she was happy to catch Cassandra’s eye as she walked down, she had sent her a reassuring smile, and the nerves of the presence of countless strangers started to leave her.
The ceremony was the same as most, the same vows spoken as always, expect unlike most ceremonies she had witnessed over the years, the words held some truth.
He brought her under his protection, something Aemond had repeatedly said was the reason he had spent so long ignoring her, to build the man that could protect them. And as he swapped her Veleryon cloak for the Targaryen one, she felt his protection and the loss of another. As if by, marrying him she had no say in what side she was on and no matter what she did, tragedy would follow. The security of whatever it was she felt in the few moments were her dreams turned to her dancing, to her smiles and laughter were gone.
But the smile Aemond had sent her, and how true his words were when he pledged his love to her made her forget it all, and hope for some happiness in the years to follow.
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the meadow in which you lay | 0
ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | prologue: the queen of love and beauty
Ser Erryk Cargyll and his twin brother, Arryk, were both renowned and prideful- in their own right- knights, members of the Kingsguard at just eight and ten, their reputation precedes them.
word count: 1.2k | warnings: mentions of sexual encounters, brief description of violence, viserys is in fact canon in this universe
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As King Viserys held a tourney to honor Queen Aemma being with child to which strengthened his ascension to the throne as King Jaehaerys I named him heir rather than his cousin, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen who never was. Your father and mother, along with your brothers and the company of you attended the great council. As one of Rhaenrya's ladies in waiting, you were delighted to attend such an honor. To uphold centuries of traditions and of course, sneak a glance at the newly knighted Cargyll twins. Many can not depict the twins from each other, but you could. As Erryk always made your bones burn and heart leap from your chest, Arryk would smile at your presence platonically, a simple nod.
"You are aware of the oaths they both swore to my father are you not?" Rhaenrya smiled as she elbowed your forearm that was resting on the chair arm, Alicent to her left, as you sat on her right. Your mother always told you to never be too close to a Hightower, specifically that of Otto's line. Alicent was kind, akin to her mother.
"I know of it" you slyly commented, catching yourself fantasizing of the man who's held your heart since he was inducted into the Kingsguard, House Cargyll wasn't a great house as your was, the Arryn's always being interwind with the Targaryen's as Aemma was your father's sister. Though, House Cargyll was still noble, your father would have married you off to Erryk without question had he not swore oaths bounded to the King. "It is just a simple crush" you continued, biting your lip as the knight gathered his armor to dress into.
"An infatuation is what it is," Alicent chuckled, "Though I must say, out of all the knights, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk must be the easiest on the eyes- no offense to that of Daemon 'Nyra".
An infatuation that will lead you to an unwanted vow of celibacy, you might as well become a Septa, perhaps the Wall needs a woman to help. As you twiddled your rings and anxiously picked the skin off of your fingers, you took a swig of wine as the tourney was to start at any moment. Wondering if the heavier the emotions you feel, the better chance of the knight of your dreams feeling them as well, wondering as well if your feelings were a curse. Honor is the death of love; love is the death of honor.
Truth be told, Ser Erryk, before his knighthood, was to be your husband. As the several stolen kisses when just six and ten, led to the restraint of lust and bedding. You could not explain your feelings in words, knowing you'd falter to perfectly describe them. The knight knew how to make you heated, heated in the terms of being overwhelmed with lust to the point of pain. The knight knew what made you laugh, gregariously, what made you cry to the point of wailing. The knight knew your curves even with the layers of dressing. An honor only the two of you know of, knowing if you told Alicent, she'd tell her father. If you told Rhaenyra, you'd fear not being able to contain the feelings you hold so deeply between you and him.
"Queen Aemma has begun her labors!" King Viserys proudly shouted, "Let the tourney begin!". You heard Princess Rhaenys and her Lord-husband, Corlys, spite the games, asking if this is how we should celebrate something as beautiful as a birth, with mindless violence. Behind you sat her children, Laenor and Laena, two beautiful and driven children around the age of Rhaenyra, you, and Alicent.
Staring off into the distance, you gripped your own hand, breath quickening to the point of your breasts being awkwardly exposed to the knight in front of you; Alicent took note to the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, had she be in the same position as you, she'd be sweltering.
"Lady Y/N Arryn, may I kindly ask for your favor?" Ser Erryk smiled at you brightly, his eyes, kissed by the ocean, they shined brightly in the sun.
You kindly sat up, grabbing your favor, before kissing it and latching it on his lance. "Shall your stead and you win gloriously, I beg you to not forget the Lady whom granted your favor". Erryk smirked slightly at your comment, taking in your now more matured body, it's been several moons since he's last seen you, granted the last, the lights were rather dim and your complete upper torso was bare. Nipples perked with lust, his mouth leaving bits on your chest as his hands fondled your bottom half, being careful as to not penetrating you and potentially taking your maidenhead. Your cunt was desirably soaked, your moans sinfully bouncing off the halls of stone, praying the moment were to last forever. If only Viserys swore him off to the City Watch, you'd be swollen with his child.
"Is there something we do not know about?" Rhaenyra noted with lightheartedness as you sat down.
"A woman- a Lady- does not share her bedroom details 'Nyra" you answered only leading her curiosity to run wild, she simply leaned in closer to your shoulder to whisper.
"Did he take your maidenhead?" Rhaenyra questioned, curious as to what her cousin was sinfully capable of since the last time she saw her for her name day of six and ten.
"Gods no," You laughed in reply, hearing the joust continue as Ser Erryk reigned victoriously, winking at you as you locked eyes. "Though I must admit, the knight does has hands of a god" you teased to your cousin.
Rhaenyra sat silent the rest of the tourney, as Ser Criston Cole eventually reigned victor, you quietly made your way to the knight's tents, as the brutality that took place, you'd rather find solace in talking to the one knight whom could bring joy under any circumstance.
"Thank you for asking for my favor Ser Erryk," you spoke up, nearly stunning the knight who was accustomed to the former silence, "Though you were unhorsed, your efforts and vigor will be remembered".
"You speak as if I am dying soon Lady Arryn" Erryk chuckled at the comment, "Any word of the Queen's condition?".
"Surprisingly no, granted I cannot find my dear uncle or that of Rhaenyra" you answered, lightly twiddling your thumbs.
"You're nervous" Erryk pointed out, only leading you to correct your posture, "Not that m'Lady, your thumbs- you only rip skin and play with them when you're nervous".
You were shocked the dear knight remember your quirks, had it been so long and his training leading to a foggy eclipse on his memory, the scars that litter his body like a ballad lead you to wonder how much he has changed, better yet how much has he stood the same.
"It's a bad habit Ser" you lightly speak up, humbled by his acknowledgement of your habits, "I was worried".
There was a pregnant pause before Erryk stood up from his makeshift sitting arrangement, a tree stump, his armor long discard, he reached for your hands before speaking up.
"Why did you seek the pleasure of my company love? Your ladies must be wondering where you must be" the knight questioned, staring intently in the eyes of the woman whom holds his soul.
"Let them wonder" you whispered to him, cupping his cheek, feeling the harsh stubble grow, the stubble that once scraped the inner portion of your thighs as you climaxed on the owner's chin.
The calm before the storm, held in your hands as the knight stared into your eyes, the love that mended your soul yet broke your bones.
#hotd#house of the dragon#game of thrones#ser erryk#ser arryk#ser erryk cargyll#ser arryk cargyll#rhaenyra#rhaenrya targaryen#alicent hightower#house of the dragon fanfiction#ser erryk cargyll x reader#erryk cargyll#erryk cargyll x reader#angst#smut
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The Fall from the Heavens (13)
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, trauma, regret, depression, mention of a suicide attempt ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
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Daemon understood better than anyone what it meant to be the second son, the one who would inherit nothing. It seemed to him that, in contrast to Viserys, he was a blazing fire like a true dragon, giving warmth, light and shelter to those close to his heart, burning those whom he saw as his enemies.
Viserys was always blind, soft-spoken, lacking strong character and clear opposition when things got too far out of hand.
This trait of his had been carefully exploited by Otto Hightower over the years, putting himself in the role of his friend and adviser, playing his part with an extraordinary devotion from which he felt like throwing up.
He knew it was pure courtesy, perfectly calculated, taking advantage of the mourning of the entire Red Keep and his inattention after Aemma's tragic death he slipped his brother his daughter under his nose.
Looking at her on their wedding day, standing in a long, ornate gown he thought she looked like a child on whom someone had put layers of cloth and precious stones; overwhelmed by it all she looked down at her feet, around her nails the red wounds he had seen on her hands ever since.
On that one day, knowing what was awaiting her, he truly felt compassion for her.
After that, however, he stopped.
She could have built her independence, committed herself to the needs of the kingdom, she, however, in the company of that cunt, Criston Cole, gave herself over to prayer and mortification, obediently following her father's orders.
As a woman, she was in his eyes pitiful, weepy, whiny, merely pretending to be saintly and virtuous, having in fact nothing to do with these qualities.
His feelings about her and her father moved involuntarily to her children.
He recognised the dragon's blood in them and treated them differently from the Hightowers, yet he was unable or unwilling to bond with them, seeing how they were suckled to their mother's breasts, which did not allow them to think or breathe on their own.
He watched from the sidelines, observing from afar as Rhaenyra and Alicent's children trained together, how a divide formed between them. He knew that once they grew up and understood what was really at stake, they would throw themselves at each other's throats.
He knew perfectly well whose right to the throne he would support.
Aegon was a drunkard and a cunt, Helaena was quiet and withdrawn, Aemond was sullen and vindictive − he thought with amusement that each of them had inherited the worst from his brother and their mother.
However, he couldn't help but show at least a little compassion and understanding for his brother's second son, who had been punished by the gods, left without a dragon of his own.
Some part of him wanted to speak to him, to get to know him, to see through him as a kind of reflection of himself, but on those rare occasions when he was with Leana and his daughters in the Red Keep he never made such a gesture, which he later, though he did not want to admit it to himself, regretted.
Perhaps things would have turned out differently then.
He could see with what admiration he looked at him, how much he longed to hear at least one word of appreciation from him, any gesture of interest.
He knew that if he could decide who his father-figure would be he would choose not Viserys or Cole but him, and he pretended not to notice that.
Once though, he noticed something that surprised him; strolling through the cloisters of the Red Keep he spotted his nephew and Rhaenyra's only daughter standing side by side in the square, leaning over the table filled with the various weapons. He smirked under his breath as he walked closer, wanting to listen to their conversation.
They were betrothed.
A clumsy attempt by his brother to avoid what he felt in his bones had to happen.
He saw his niece point her finger at one of the weapons lying on the wooden tabletop, a steel black spiked ball hooked on a chain to a special handle.
"What is it? It looks scary." She said with amusement, her voice light and pleasant; he thought with surprise that his nephew's grim and stormy nature did not deter her.
Alicent's son grunted loudly, lifting his chin slightly in a gesture of superiority and intelligence that he hated so much about the Hightowers, clearly proud to be able to speak on a subject in which his knowledge was extensive.
"It's a flail. A very heavy weapon requiring great strength and agility in its use. It literally crushes the opponent." He said, forcing himself into a low, mature, masculine voice, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his hair in a slight disarray from the few duels he had already had.
"That weapon looks like the kind you die from in agony." Mumbled his niece, tentatively touching her fingertip to one of the spikes – her uncle pushed her away immediately, surprised by her gesture, grabbing her hand by the wrist.
"Are you insane? What are you doing? It's sharp after all, you could have hurt yourself." He said angrily, but she only blinked, surprised by his outburst, and smiled indulgently, showing him her finger.
"I know, silly. I wouldn't want something like that to hit me in the face." She sneered, raising her eyebrows in amusement, joy in her gaze and embarrassment at the fact that he still hadn't let her go.
She took a step closer to him, but he stepped back quickly and lowered his gaze, he noticed in disbelief that his pale cheeks had turned scarlet.
"Not here. Later." He muttered letting go of her wrist immediately. He heard her quiet sigh of disappointment as she nodded and walked away without another word.
He watched as, a moment later, his nephew cursed under his breath, pulling off his leather gloves and moved after her, grabbing her at one of the side entrances by her arm. She turned to him with a smile as if she was sure he would follow her, her lips placing a quick, brief kiss on his cheek.
He let her go, embarrassed and blushing, looking sideways, muttered something, and she nodded and disappeared behind the walls. His nephew returned to the square as if nothing had happened, a lazy, barely visible smile on his face; Aegon looked at him from afar with a look full of pity, as soon as his younger brother came closer he said loud and clear:
"What a twat you are."
He snarled under his breath as he heard Criston Cole immediately respond to his remark by saying that it was inappropriate for a prince to use such vocabulary, his younger brother only gave him a grim look indicating that he himself was torn internally, ashamed of his weakness.
He thought then, moving ahead, amused, that his brother had inadvertently contributed to something that was certainly not his original plan.
These kids really wanted it.
He felt shame because, looking at them, he wondered how he really felt about his wife. He recognised that she was his companion and lover, whom he respected and cherished, but she was not his friend, he could not allow her into the depths of his heart.
Only when he saw Rheanyra did he feel something more; he had the feeling that the air around them quivered when they spoke, he sensed that she understood perfectly the source and reason of his impulsive nature.
Despite this, he found his life peaceful and prosperous, and the death of his wife in childbirth was something shocking and painful to him. He covered his grief with laughter, the thought that he had wasted years of her life, a wonderful, beautiful woman who deserved someone to love her with all her being, giving her something more than a substitute of affection.
Then, however, his nephew lost an eye and everything fell apart like a house of cards, showing how weak their family actually was.
The events that followed wove together in his mind, the closeness of Rhaenyra and their later nuptials brought him a sense of relief, as if two parts that belonged together had been joined.
He watched her daughter from afar, the sadness and grief painted on her after all still so young and innocent face made her seem to him pale and lifeless, at once beautiful, cool and inaccessible, walking around Dragonstone like a ghost, not speaking to anyone despite how much his daughters tried to get close to her.
She was warm, helpful and welcoming when anyone approached her, but did not raise any discussions herself, eating and drinking little at suppers, immersed in her thoughts.
He knew that she was with them only in body.
He decided not to make the same mistake as with his nephew and offer her his interest, his support in the ironic and mischievous form peculiar to him, the only way in which he could show his affection to anyone.
What surprised him was how much she clung to him, how often she cried during their walks together; despite her innate vulnerability she had a strength of character that he appreciated – she was inclined to rash actions or anger, but she was also not docile or naive, she tried to find order in the chaos that surrounded her.
Only he and his niece had been invited to Aegon's nuptials to Helaena; Alicent had expressed in her letter her concern that the meeting of their children might affect them badly and reawaken old wounds, which his wife took as a reasonable argument, and indeed, albeit reluctantly, it was only the two of them who travelled to the Red Keep.
The whole ceremony in the Great Sept dragged on endlessly for him; he looked around, bored, unwilling to stare at the horrified, sad faces of his nephew and niece, testament to the fact that neither of them wanted this marriage.
The wedding supper held in the fortress was lavish with dancing and music, lords from all over the kingdom descended and gathered in the throne room at large, long oak tables filled to the brim with food. Sitting down in his seat next to his wife, he glanced sideways and noticed a figure looking at him intensely, the One-Eyed Prince staring at him coolly, his lips pressed into a thin line.
He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and admiration, finding that he looked like a man, well-built and muscular, tall, his hair much longer, a black eye patch covering the left side of his face.
He grinned with amusement and mockery, wondering to what he owed his attention, and his nephew only hummed under his breath, looking away, apparently discouraged by his reaction.
He wondered, looking at him, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, if he had shown him fatherly concern then, taken him under his wing, separated him from Alicent and Otto, he would be a different man now.
Several toasts were made to the bride and groom, during each of which Aegon drank his cup to the bottom, clearly intent on fulfilling his marital duty completely drunk.
"Stop it. You've had enough." Growled his younger brother, taking his goblet from him with an aggressive flick of his hand, setting it impatiently far from his older brother's reach.
Aegon slapped him angrily on the shoulder, mumbling something under his breath; his younger brother stood up, towering over him, showing him wordlessly that if he touched him again he would regret it.
"Aemond." Said their mother, this green whore, who was looking at them in pain, her hands folded in front of her as if to pray.
His nephew rolled his eyes and left the hall by a side entrance, furious, unwilling and unable to look at it apparently; Aegon with a wide grin reached for his cup again and to his despair took the empty seat next to him that had been occupied earlier by his wife, now conversing with the King.
"Uncle! So many years." He mumbled, tapping him on the back in a friendly, masculine greeting. He rolled his eyes, amused, smelling the stench of alcohol and sweat from him.
"As you can see, everything stays in the family. I don't know how I'm going to survive this. After all, she'll surely cry. Fuck." He muttered, taking a deep, catchy sip from his cup, tilting it so that he drank it all at once.
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, feeling discomfort at the thought that he felt compassion for Helaena for what was about to happen to her.
He glanced at her sad, petite figure; she sat gazing off into the distance somewhere, dreamy.
He wondered as he watched her if she realised what awaited her.
"She doesn't seem to fully understand what I will have to do to her. After all, she's my sister. I don't want to hurt her. She's odd and I don't understand her, but I don't want her to fucking cry." He mumbled out covering his face with his hand, his voice breaking with his every word – he drew in air loudly as if he was out of breath, and he looked at him not knowing what to do.
What was he supposed to answer him?
"Be gentle and kind. Make her feel as little pain as possible. You know very well that how it will look lies in your hands. If you want her to suffer as little as possible, stop drinking because it will take you a fucking hour." He growled, taking the cup from his hand just as his younger brother had earlier, and wondered if that was what he meant then, if he knew his condition would only worsen whatever was to await them next.
"You pity yourself and you smell of alcohol and sweat. Go take a bath or do you want to lay on her like that? Give her some dignity for goodness sake." He said coolly, looking ahead indifferently; his nephew swallowed loudly, sitting beside him like a little rebuked child, playing with his fingers.
He wondered, looking at him out of the corner of his eye if his brother had ever spoken to him about it, if he had prepared him and explained to him how he should behave.
"All my life I've envied him. My brother. He had someone of his own who cared about him. I think he really loved her, uncle. Now I barely recognise anyone myself. I'm not sure any of us are the same person anymore. Only Helaena has remained the same − innocent and ignorant. That's because she doesn't step outside her mind. If she did, she would have gone mad like we did."
It turned out that he was partly right.
What he didn't expect was that when they arrived all together as a family after several years in King's Landing to defend Luke's rights to inherit the Driftmark these two would be lying in bed with each other on their very first night.
"If you tell me you still want to marry him, I will help you. I'd rather you be his wife than lead you and him into a scandal that could destroy your mother. Your betrothal has never been called off, the king will easily prove that no other plans for you can be in force against his decision. But if you decide not to, I will personally see to it that you never see him again and that no letter of yours leaves Dragonstone. Make a manly, mature decision with all its consequences, and stop wallowing over yourself."
He told her then, wanting her to understand that they could not stand in the middle, that they had to choose, or their decisions would drag them all down.
Watching them in the throne room audience, however, the greedy, desperate gaze of his nephew fixed on her as if he wanted to devour her gave him no illusions.
What this boy was telling himself was one thing, but what he was feeling was another.
It was this thought that made him decide to question Alicent's decision in front of everyone, wanting to hear his brother's opinion on the matter, the only one that really counted. He had expected nothing but objections from both sides, however, against the desperate attempts of their mothers, his nephew and his niece's daughter made a decision that did not surprise him at all.
It was enough for her to get up from her seat and walk out to make him press his lips together in rage and follow her out, exactly as he had done then, in the courtyard, when he had thrown himself after her, and she knew perfectly well that he would do so, knowing his nature.
He wondered if she had kissed him this time too, if the tension between them had eased.
He thought that this marriage might actually calm the emotions a little, especially as his brother was over his deathbed.
This union was forcing both parties to be cautious, which could be mutually beneficial.
"She has decided that she wants to stay in the Red Keep until I return." His wife said to him, putting her black leather gloves on her hands, walking beside him towards the dragon's lair. He stopped, looking at her in disbelief, furious.
This was not the plan.
"What?" He growled, looking at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "You're leaving my daughter in the care of that whore and her father-traitor?"
He saw that she smiled at his words emphasising that in his eyes she was his child, that he had taken responsibility for her and protected her as any true father should.
"She asked me to do this. I imagine they both want to clarify a lot of things with each other. Since the nuptials are to take place as soon as possible there is no need to fret, I will personally take her back in a few days." She replied calmly, and he let out a loud breath, impatiently licking his lips.
It was a bad idea, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn't protest and that was his mistake.
The next day he lost two of his daughters.
Rhaenyra, his brother's heir to the throne fell with a groan when envoys reported to her that her father was dead, that her brother had been crowned king, that they had imprisoned their daughter.
She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at her womb; at first he thought it was despair, but then he saw the pool of blood beneath her feet, her terrified gaze, her lips parted in agony.
They both knew it was too soon.
Their daughter already looked like a tiny infant, but sadly her fate was sealed; she wasn't moving or breathing, she was cold, looking more like a doll than a human being.
He felt that he had to leave the fortress; he followed exactly where he always went out with her, with one of his daughters, to the sea itself, and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily, not knowing what he was supposed to do with the rage and chaos that overtook his mind.
He wanted to mount Caraxes and burn them all.
However, his cousin and daughters had cooled his ardour, recognising that they needed to prepare, gather an army, make a plan of action.
He recognised that it was only female sentiment, a weakness that kept them from making the risky decision that his whole life consisted of.
When his wife finally recovered from her brief mourning, despite his entreaties, she did not listen to him and decided to send her sons as her representatives, wanting to extract the pledge of allegiance from those who had paid her tribute many years ago.
He had thought it nonsensical, however, when Luke returned from Storm's End it turned out that his step son had been a naive idiot.
"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." He growled, turning away from the table with fury, massaging his face with his palm, not believing he could have done such a thing.
"Daemon." Said Rhaenyra in a voice trembling with despair; she looked at her son, trying to calm herself. "What happened next?"
"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." He muttered, forcing himself into a calm tone of voice.
He turned towards him, looking at him with his heart beating fast.
She had done this for them, so they could attack the Red Keep without fear.
She wanted to make a manly decision, to sacrifice herself, his brave daughter, his little dragon.
"Gods." Said his wife, clutching at her womb, apparently involuntarily recalling the moments when she had carried her under her heart, the maternal tears of pain in her eyes.
"And then?" He finished for her, seeing that she didn't have the strength to get anything else out, Luke swallowed hard, afraid to look at him.
"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." Said with difficulty, Jace slammed his fist on the table, furious.
"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He said red with anger and he glanced at him indifferently, sighing heavily.
"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He asked further, pretending not to have heard his outburst; Jace pressed his lips together, furious. Luke shook his head quickly.
"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." He muttered, and he sighed heavily, placing both of his hands on the table, leaning over it, and closed his eyes, trying to focus.
He let her see him without any other witnesses and then let him go even though he hated him, even though he could have trapped and humiliated him.
Why?
A memory flashed through his mind, the way his nephew cursed as he fought with himself to finally run after her, her smile full of reassurance as she turned to him knowing he would follow her, his blush of embarrassment and lazy smile as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, her proof of her devotion and affection that he craved so much.
He had never stopped loving her.
This stone-cold, dangerous man had done something for her, surely after she had tried to take her own life.
"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."
_____
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Hi! I saw that your requests are open, if it's ok and within your rules, I can ask, Aemond being obsessed with his half sister (daughter of Aemma and Viserys), who defended him after the Driftmark incident, along with Alicent
Aemond Targaryen being obsessed with his half-sister would include:
A/N: I feel horned to wright you ask, my dear anon! I'm deeply sorry, I think maybe run a little out the topic, but nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it! Also, PLEASE, READ THE WARNINGS!
SUMMARY: the journey of Aemond Targaryen, trying to have a taste of the forbidden fruit: his own half sister.
WR: f!reader, reader has long hair, violence, murderer, fire, mentions of groping, non-con groping, Aemond being Aemond. Once again, PLEASE, READ THE WARNINGS!
WORDS: +4.2k
Being the second daughter of Viserys and Aemma meant getting the utmost care and affection from your dear father, the king.
Also meaning being completely despised by your older sister’s ex best friend, Alicent, now Queen of the seven kingdoms.
Alicent done everything to make sure her kids hated the blacks as much as she did, poisoning their minds with paranoias and conspiracy thoughts; however, none of this seemed to change the mind of her second son, Aemond.
Being considerably older than him, you, Rhaenyra’s younger sister, were the prince’s object of affection, much to his mother distaste.
You’ve always thought how cute your half-little-brother clung to you at every royal event or sought your presence at the Red Keep.
Since he was just a kid, you couldn’t help but indulge on his clingy tendencies.
Without fail, Aemond always ran to your comfort when he was feeling too overwhelmed by Aegon’s bullying, burying his face on the space between your shoulder and neck.
You would calmly soothe him down, rubbing his back and lightly rocking him side to side.
However, time proved to be harsh, making you face a cruel dilemma.
It was night at Driftmark, everyone were supposed to be sleeping, yet, the shouts put everyone on their feet, looking for the commotion.
You slammed the doors open, facing little Aemond being stitched up by the maester.
You gasped, horrified, running to his side, but you were violently shoved by Alicent, who were throwing daggers with her fiercely gaze.
“You, stay away from my son!” you wobbled a few steps back. Aemond seeing this, got up from his chair, yelling at his own mother, but unfortunately got even more hurt in the processes by the pinching of the needle.
“Sweetheart, calm down, I’m here—“ “Don’t touch me!” Aemond shout out, slapping his mother’s hand away from him.
Viserys, trying to keep the situation under control, asked to Alicent to let you pass, which she complied with resistance.
Seeing her son immediately hugging your waist while rubbing his cheek on the fabric of your nightgown, made her bitter. This was supposed to be her job, giving comfort to her son on this difficult situation; not her rival’s sister.
After all the commotion and Rhaenyra being stabbed by Alicent, you were tasked to stay with Aemond on the nursery, again, by the prince’s begging and to his mother distaste. One more time, Alicent felt rejected by her own son.
Her only wish were to let Ser Cole stay with you at her son’s bed, fearing that Rhaenyra, who were sleeping at the nursery as well, attempted against the prince’s life.
Now at the ward, with a damp cloth, you cleaned the caked blood on Aemond’s hair. Brushing your fingers through his locks, you said “Some day, you will have the most beautiful silver hair of the kingdom.”
“Do you like… my hair?” the now one eyed prince asked, thanking the gods the lights weren’t strong enough to show his flaming cheeks.
You laughed, delighted by his cuteness “Of course I like, silly! Unfortunately, you’ll have to take a lot of baths to wash away the reddish stains.”
Aemond took a mental note to never cut his hair ever again.
“May I ask you something?”
With a gentle smile, you agreed “Of course!”
“Why did you defend me? Why didn’t you defended your nephews?”
You took a moment to pick the most appropriated words “Even though I’m very disappointed at your words, I would never wish any harm to come for any of you.”
Sensing the drop of your mood, the prince asked what happened. Sighing, you explained “Me and my sister will leave the Red Keep, Aemond.”
The little prince’s life turned upside down. Widening his only eye, he begged for an explanation, trying to cover his wobbly voice.
“Me and my sister talked and we decided that Red Keep is no longer safe for us.” “What do you mean?! I have Vaghar! The biggest dragon in the seven kingdoms! I can protect you!” he fisted your arms, as if you were going to vanish in front of him.
You lightly chuckled, petting his cheek “I appreciate your efforts, my brave prince, but our family is in the verge of a war. Leaving and letting things calm down is the best decision for now.”
“But…I don’t want you to leave! Take me with you, if needed, but please, don’t leave me alone!” now full crying, he caged you on his frail embrace, sobbing uncontrollably.
Returning his hug, you brought him to your lap, taking extra care to not touch his fresh wound “My little prince, you know I can’t bring you with me, your mother would kill me. It do hurt me to separate from you, but you must understand that there’s no other way. Besides, there’s nothing stoping me from visiting you or sending you ravens!”
Aemond stoped crying, now just enjoying your warm embrace as long as he could “But it won’t be the same…” “I know, my love, but it’s just a provisional measure. I’ll reunite with you sooner or later.” You said finally, kissing him gently on the top of his head.
The next morning, everyone prepared for your sudden departure. Rhaenyra informed you it would be better if you leaved as soon as possible, which Aemond strongly disagreed.
Out of the castle, your dragons waited for you, already equipped with everyone of your belongings. Turning to say good bye to your favorite prince, you and Aemond shared a hug; obviously with everything monitored by Alicent.
Seeing you flying away shattered his heart in a billion pieces. It felt like he couldn’t breath, as if a hole opened up on his chest. He felt lonely. Never wanting to feel this way ever again, Aemond promised that the next time he saw you, he wouldn’t let you go.
The years passed. Every single day, religiously, Aemond wrote you a letter, informing you of everything he did or planned to do in the day.
You happily read all of his letters, glad to know that the young boy was not as depressed as you thought he would be due to your departure.
So, as fast as you could, you wrote him back as eager as him, alway commenting something he told on his own letters, just so he knew you read and payed attention to every single word he draw on the paper.
But, after a few months, Aemond stopped receiving your letters. It came to a point where he would spend all day pestering the servants interrogating the whereabouts of your letters.
Completing a whole month of no news about you, Aemond snapped. He destroyed his bed chambers, breaking the furniture, slashing the curtains and ripping his book off the shelves.
Ser Cole and Harold were sent to contain the enraged prince, who kept screaming and kicking, while the Queen tried to reason with her son.
When the prince stopped slashing around and started to cry, Alicent cocooned him on her lap, “She promised” he murmured between sobs “she promised she’d never leave me…”
Years passed. Daemon and Rhaenyra, now husband and wife, travelled to King’s Landing to defend Jacaerys and Lucerys right to the iron and driftwood throne. Not passing this opportunity, you flied along with them to the Red Keep.
It’s been a long time since you received a letter from your favorite little-half-brother. You were a little hurt at the beginning, but then you started to be a little reasonable: maybe he was busy with Vaghar or his training. So, you opted to send Alicent letters asking for permission to visit her son. Unfortunately, you never got a response.
After the coldly reception of Alicent and Otto, you accompanied your two nephews to the training grounds.
Immediately, you spotted a man with wide shoulders and a beautifully long silver hair cascading his broad back. He was sparring against Ser Cole, your sister’s late knight.
Making Criston surrender, applauses erupted from the grounds. “Well done, my Prince.” congratulated the knight, still panting “You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”
“I don’t give a shit about tourneys” he dismissed Criston’s flattery “Nephews, have you come to train?”
Aemond turned to Lucerys and Jacaerys, but he was caught by surprise when his eye landed on you.
Ethereal as ever, your now longer hair was braided expertly on a beautiful bun, assenting your features. The heart of the one eyed prince beat uncontrollably inside his chest.
Sensing his eyes upon you, you greeted him “My prince, it’s been a while.”
Aemond, not knowing how to carry with the conversation, agreed “Yes, it’s been, my dear half-sister.”
Seeing the interaction between the royal family, the crowd started to dissipate. Jacaerys e Lucerys left the training grounds as well, glad that the prince’s attention was not on them anymore.
Now all alone, you approached the eye-patched prince “Can we talk?” not taking no as an answer, you locked your hands on his arm, making Aemond get stiff.
So many years has passed, but you still caused him the same effect. Silently, the prince enjoyed the innocent contact, loving the felling of your torso rubbing against his toned arm.
“Long ago, you stopped sending me letters. Why?” you asked, bluntly.
“You never answered them, so I stopped writing.”
Stopping in your tracks, looking straight into his eye “The few that I received, I answered them right away. But suddenly, you stopped writing. Why?”
Scoffing, the prince replied “As I said before, my dear half-sister, you stopped writing, so did I.”
“I never stopped trying to reach you out, Aemond. I even sent your mother a raven, but she said you did not want to see me. So I ask again, my dear prince, why did you put me on arms length?”
Immediately, something clicked inside the Targaryen’s prince head. Obviously it was the doings of his own mother; she never liked you in the first place. But Aemond thought that, at least, after the incident at Driftmark, Alicent would warm up to you, but apparently, he thought wrong.
His blood started to boil. How dare his mother try to stay in the way between you two? His nostrils flared up; he locked his jaw tightly, gritting his teeth.
Feeling your soft hand, now smaller than his, interlocking your fingers pulled him away from his enraged state “Aemond, what—“ “I’m really sorry about this misunderstanding.” he apologized, engaging a hug.
Got by surprise, you hesitantly put your hands on his back, slowly giving into his embrace.
Aemond finally felt at peace. Feeling your hands around him and how his toned arms circled your waist, almost made him forget of his rage against his mother, almost. Sniffing your scent for the last time, the prince left you, promising to talk and explain everything to you after he was done with his business.
Dropping his reassuring smile, the prince stormed into the keep, going straight to his mother’s bed chambers.
Not even greeting Ser Cole, Aemond locked the doors as soon as he passed through them, only listening to the knight’s knocking.
Hearing all the commotion, Alicent beelined to her living room, facing her second son “Aemond? What are you doing here? You can’t enter my bed chambers like that, what if—“ “Spear me from your lecture, mother.”
Feeling shocked by her son’s harsh words, she continued “And this is how you speak to your mother? Your queen?”
Aemond smirked, mockingly. Suddenly, the young man caught his mother by her throat, lightly lifting her from the floor, letting her balance herself on her tiptoes “Don’t pull the ‘your Queen’ card right now, mother. If you haven’t noticed, my patience is running thin.”
Alicent fisted her son’s wrist, trying to sooth his grip. Seeing that he not even bulged, she cried out “Aemond, plea—“ “As I said before, my patience is ending. I’ll give you one chance, and believe me when I say few got this benefit: did you barred my half-sister’s letters?”
The queen’s eyes winded, but she stayed silent, probably paralyzed by fear. Seeing her state, Aemond did not needed a verbal answer: just looking at her gave away her guiltiness.
He let her break free, making Alicent instantly tear to the ground, coughing and gasping for air, uncontrollably.
Aemond’s jaw was tightly shut. Feeling betrayed by his own mother, he started to rant “You knew how important she was to me, and still, you deprived me of seeing her and did not even let me get news from her! You left me in the dark, and you saw how it was killing me, but even so, you did nothing!”
The prince’s voice escalated along with his rage, which was increasing with time. Feeling the need to take his anger on something, he threw the coffe table against the wall, making the Queen gasp in horror.
“Aemond,” she tried to reason with her son “I did this only to protect you! I thrust her as much as you do, but you must understand that the circumstances—“ “Don’t you dare lie to me again!” he slammed his hands on another table “Admit you were jealous of her, of her proximity to me. You always despised her, there’s no need to lie!”
Rilling up as well, Alicent exploded “Of course I always hated her! She’s Rhaenyra’s sister, Aemond! She would do anything to help her kin! To stole your brother’s throne!” with tear cascading her cheeks, she continued, approaching her son “And of course I was jealous, Aemond! You’re my son! Mine! But you never ran up to me when you were sad, hurt or happy! It was always her! Even at Driftmark, when her own nephew stabbed your eye, you ran up to her! You didn’t even let me accompany you at the nursery! And—“
Sobs interrupted her speech. But now that she started to talk, she was not going to back off “Do you think she genuinely loves you, Aemond? Like I do?”
The prince looked at her with warning eye “Watch your tongue.”
Feeling bold, Alicent continued, not listening to her son’s threat, facing him fearlessly “Don’t you ever thought that, maybe, she just treated you well to do this? Put you against me? Your own mother? Don’t you ever thought that she’s as cruel, manipulative and a whore as much as her—“ “Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”
Aemond pounced on her mother, now fully strangling her. His knuckles were white with his bruising grip, eye completely fogged by hatred. His nostrils was flaring up, teeth gritting madly.
With the little oxygen that lasted on her lungs, Alicent was able to call out to Ser Criston Cole, who immediately opened the doors, running to save the Queen.
Along with the knight were Otto Hightower, who coincidentally were passing by his daughter’s corridor.
“What in the seven hells happened here?” the hand lord exasperated, demanding an answer.
“We had a heated discussion, father” Alicent explained with her voice sore due to her son’s strangulation.
Sensing he wouldn’t get no more details about the incident, Otto coughed, as if putting an end to the matter “I was going to remind you of tonight’s dinner, which begins on a few minutes. Our king decided to attend it, so I was going to ask my Queen to ask her children to be on their best behavior.” Otto gave Aemond a meaningful look.
“I don’t care what this discussion was about. What matters is that this behavior can’t happen again during the dinner. Are we clear?” Alicent silently nodded, while Aemond stayed motionless by his grandfather speech.
Later, the whole house Targaryen sat at the fancy dining room. An uncomfortable silence dominated the group, tension so thick it could be cut by a knife.
King Viserys, as usual, tried to reason with his family that was bound to break in two, yet only he denied to see the truth “With that being said,” the sick king, with the help of his loyal wife, stayed up “me and my dear second daughter discussed and agreed that, in the name of peace, she shall be betrothed to her half-brother, Aegon Targaryen.”
Aemond’s heart stopped beating. The whole time, his infuriated gaze was directed to his mother, who would avert her own with all of her might; but now, he gazed incredulously to his father. He didn’t even notice when he stood up from his chair, flying to his mother’s throat.
Caos broke loose in the room. The king was immediately withdrawn from the scene, leaving Daemon alongside the others guards to separate the infuriated prince from the Queen.
On the other side of the chamber, you saw how animalisticly your dear little half-brother acted. He was no longer that sweet boy that easily cried with his older brother’s bullying: now he was a man, and a very dangerous one.
You cried hopelessly: how things take a turn like that? You thought that agreeing to the betrothal, you could finally reunite your family, but instead, here you are, seeing who was once your favorite person in the world trying to kill his own mother.
Even though Aemond were the best swordsman on the realm, he were not able to defeat Daemon and all of the Keep’s guards. “Lead the Prince to the dungeon. Tomorrow morning we will discuss with the small council what shall be decided of the prince’s future.” as Otto commanded, the guards escorted Aemond, who was now unconscious.
You offered yourself to accompany Alicent to the nursery to check upon her bruised throat. As expected, Ser Cole went along, only a few feet away from you.
“I’m so sorry with what happened, my Queen.” you morned, while helping Alicent walk through the hallway “I know prince Aemond since he was just a little kid. I would never expect such a horrifying act from him. It seems like I don’t even know him anymore.”
Moaning in pain, Alicent commented “I think both of us never truly knew him.”
Getting to the nursery, seeing the state of their Queen, the maids promptly took and laid her on a bed reserved to the royal family.
Staying by her side, she started to softly cry “I never should have tried to stay between you two, you know?”
Trying to stop her crying, you gently brushed her messed hair out of her face “Shhh… I must confess I don’t know what you are talking about, my Queen, but you shouldn’t be blaming yourself for what happened.”
Giving you a saddened smile, Queen Alicent continued to apologize “I appreciate your kind words, my dear, but I do have a portion of guilt on Aemond’s behavior.”
Gulping, you finally asked “If I may ask you: what could you have done to make him have such a reaction, my Queen?”
Seeing your confused eyes and caring acts, she confessed “I barred all of your letters to prince Aemond, and I also lied about him not wanting to see you.” your heart clenched, but still continued to sooth her hair down.
“And why would you do that? What would you gain from it?”
Alicent nipped her lips “I was afraid and jealous. My paranoia took over me. I was convinced that you were only being nice with my son just to destroy my family. Also, I’ve always envied how close you two were. Aemond never loved me like he loves you.”
“Nonsense, my Queen. Aemond always told me how he wished to make you proud. That’s why he’s so dedicated.” you brushed her off, with a little giggle.
“Well, it can also be true, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried his best just to impress you, my dear. My son’s crush on you didn’t go unnoticed by me back in the days.” she too giggled, remembering how flustered the boy got when others brought you up. Obviously, back than she disapproved vehemently, but seeing how caring you are, Alicent couldn’t blame his son for falling for you.
“You are so gentle and caring, I don’t blame my son for falling for you.” she looked straight into your eyes “I’m sorry for making things come to this point. If I never have felt insecure and suspicious of you, things would may be different.” she sobbed once again, feeling regret consuming her soul.
“Don’t blame yourself, my Queen. You did what you thought was right to protect your son.” you embraced her, like you used to embrace Aemond. Feeling her tears stain your dress, you let Alicent pour her heart out.
Calming a little, she sat up, encasing your hands between hers “Now that I know your genuine feelings, I must apologize for misjudging you. Yet, now that I know my son’s true colors, I’m afraid I’ve put you in danger my dear. I don’t want my son to rot on a cell, but my heart wouldn’t bear to bring you anymore harm.”
Your reassuring smile faltered. If Aemond was able to hurt his own mother, you feared what he could do to you. But even so, a part of you still believed he would never touch you.
Cupping your cheeks, Alicent continued “Now, listen to me, dear. It’s clear that Aemond is completely obsessed with you, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. We must take this opportunity, and send you as far as we can!”
You looked perplexed at her “Wait, but what about my betrothal? And my family? You?! What makes you so confident that Aemond won’t go after you for answers?”
Grunting in frustration, Alicent still insisted “We and the council will figure something out. Please, let me help you scape, as a form of apologizing for all the caos I brought to you.”
With the Queen’s begging, you couldn’t help but agree with her plan. Unfortunately, your conspiracy plans was cut short due to the shouts coming outside the nursery.
“Fire!”
Smelling the scent of smoke, you looked terrified at the Queen who ordered “Fast, we must reach the outside!”
Throwing her arm o your shoulders, you and Queen Alicent stumbled through the flaming hallways, crumbling with the fire.
Finally reaching the gardens, you could breath properly, coughing out the smoke off of your lungs. Once again, your feelings of security was throw out the window when you heard a loud roar.
Immediately, Vaghar stomped on the Keep’s wreckages, spitting fire at the only way out of the garden.
“Shit.” Alicent cussed, trying to stand up doing to the impact of Vaghar’s landing “We are cornered!”
Feeling despair pumping on your veins, you tried to run anywhere, getting the Queen’s wrist.
However, sensing her stillness, you turned back, facing Alicent being impaled by Aemond’s sword.
Letting out a gasp of horror, you let go of her wrist, trying to run away, but you stumbled, falling to the floor.
Retrieving his sword and cleaning it, Aemond tuck it on his belt again, now approaching you warily. “There’s no need to be afraid. Now no one can stop us from staying together.”
“You killed her…” you stated, still in shock, while gazing at her dead body a few feets away from you.
Cooing at you, like you used to do to him when he was still a child, he tuck a strand of hair that stubbornly stayed on you face “I had to, or else, they wouldn’t let us be together. Now we are free to do as we please; we could even marry.”
“…marry?” you repeated his words, dumbfounded “but, I’m already betrothed to your brother, and I never saw you in—“ “Shhh… there’s no need to worry your pretty little head about this right now, okay? That drunkard is no longer of our concern, I already took care of him.”
Still petting your hair, you scrambled with your words “I-But… I don’t want to marry you! You were my little brother, remember? I could never see you in that way!”
Aemond let out a joyous laugh, too excited to finally have you all to himself to be angry at your denial “Don’t worry, darling; you’ll have enough time to you recognize me as a man, and in the future, as your husband.”
You didn’t react when the prince’s lips crashed hungrily at yours. In your catatonic state, you could only think about how your life came to this moment, being fervidly groped by the man you once adored. Your family was dead. Now, you were all alone with your little half-brother, who claimed you as his. Realizing your future, you could only cry silently.
#house of the dragon#house of the dragon headcanons#house of the dragon headcanon#house of the dragon imagines#house of the dragon imagine#hotd#hotd headcanons#hotd headcanon#hotd imagine#hotd imagines#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon x you#house of the dragon x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n
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Never wake a sleeping Dragon - Yan!Viserys x fem!reader
warning : yandere, obsession, implied overprotective, mentioning of death/war, hurt/comfort , fluff, kissing
Summary : Visery the king in him is the burning blood of the dragon. A thing that most of the people around him tend to forget he is "the peaceful" however when a new Queen is needed a heir for the kingdom the dragon awakes when a storm is starting to geather and obsession is forged. He will not let her get away from his dragon dream.
Info : Never imagined that I would be writting for Viserys but I like the idea of a quiete yandere type that goes full obsession when his love tries to flee. Afterall he is a Targaryen and everytime a Targaryen is born the coin decides the fate ;) And Paddy looks good so yeah....have fun;)
masterlist
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The King of the Seven Kingdoms Viserys, peacefully the first of his name, was the ruler of King's Landing and all the lands. A man who had ridden one Balerion to the Black Death, the mighty beast that had been dead for decades. A man who was always eyed, especially by his brother.
Daemon, the only prince of the realm and his younger brother, on the other hand, was the picture of a Targaryen. Quick-tempered, insanely brutal and lusting after blood and fire. But his brother Viserys was peaceful, enjoying the simple pleasures of music, jousting and building stone decorations.
The sleeping dragon was what his enemies, the common people and the king's court called him. A dragon on a throne who slept and sent his brother and troops instead of unleashing his wrath.
A man who mourned all his lost children with his first wife Aemma Arryn until his only child Rhaenyra was born. The princess of the realm of the rich and handsome.
The beautiful image of her mother and the fieriness of her uncle Daemon who was devoted to his niece. The dragon was happy for some time, his dream, his dragon dreams had shown him a son, another prince, and when his wife became pregnant again, the queen gave birth to the son Baelon through the blood of the falcon and the dragon.
The king was filled with joy, but this was to be taken from him. His own wife condemned to death, his son dead and his daughter turning away from him in her own grief, he had lost everything.
He had lost his flames, his dragons and seemed completely alone. Alone in his chambers, just himself and the dim fire in the fireplace, the unfinished Valyria and the wine at the table. The dragon seemed to have lost his own.
The gaze of the violet eyes of the tired, haggard man had turned away from the fireplace and was looking at the picture of his wife, the painting he had had painted.
Until a knock at the door made him look up. ,,Away!" he had said loud enough for the person to disappear but when his door opened he placed the portrait on his bed and rose to confront the intruder.
The glow inside him seemed to spark and he wanted to be alone. ,,I said I want to be alone!" he hissed and was about to reach for his sword when he saw a woman a little older than his daughter, a lady in waiting, a then still young chick from his wife, the rest of her.
He vaguely remembered her from his grief, how she chose her ladies in waiting, how the ladies enjoyed themselves and spent time together. But after her death they were all gone, he had given them money and sent them back to their families, except for her.
She stayed, her relatives died in the battles in the kingdoms. She was the lady of the house without a seat without a stay and now the only lady-in-waiting who held on to Aemma.
,,My lady… what can I do?" He asked, his voice no longer angry but tired and exhausted. He sat back in the armchair and covered his face with his hands. ,,My king? Lord Hand has instructed me to bring you some food," he heard her voice, still caring for him despite his suffering.
Her king. She should be mourning her kings friend. What sacrifice from such a woman he thought and raised his eyes to her dark black dress. Grief. Saw her coming towards him a moment before he waited for her to sit next to him on the chair.
They had not seen each other since the funeral of his Aema and Baelon, days in which he had not seen her. His Aemma-no, her smile. ,,That's very kind of you…do you mind staying?" he asked her and it seemed to him that as the king, the man with the most power, he was asking her permission.
He saw how she didn't hesitate, how there was only a brief flash of uncertainty about his well-being. ,,Of course, here's some tea from the Maestar," she said and Viserys shifted in his seat even though he was only wearing his loose shirt and trousers, the jewelry on his body made him look better.
Putting on his expensive clothes, however, meant going back out there, following the sad eyes to a throne without her. Glancing at her, his violet eyes watched as she handed him the plate of bread and eggs, the bacon still warm, and he felt his stomach actually craving food.
Only wine and drugged flowers were not food, at least not what he was supposed to have. Until suddenly he heard a cry of pain and wheeled around to face her. Almost throwing the plate aside, he saw that the boiling water had splashed on her hand by coming up in the goblet. ,,Wait," he said hastily and took the cup from her hand and the pot.
The vapor, the heat showing effect on her hand red hot and hurting her. Like the flame of a dragon. ,,It's… all right Viserys," she pressed out, tears in her eyes saying something else and at that moment he didn't feel helpless, not intimidated. He was alive. The fascination, his dream.
The fire, his son. ,,Burned by fire-I mean, did you burn yourself very badly? Wait, I'll get something," he said, feeling his thoughts racing as he rose from her, she would end up making the dream real, replacing his imagination. This woman in smoke and flames?
He fetched a pain-relieving ointment from his bedside cabinet and came back to her, seeing how she had pulled out her handkerchief to dry her tears, but the trembling of her hands made it rather sluggish. ,,Thank you Vis-forgive me my King but you don't have to" she insisted as she watched in panic as the King knelt before her, his hands gently and lovingly taking the cloth and wiping away her tears.
His violet eyes did not leave hers and he saw this dream more and more clearly as she looked at him with respect, gratitude and something he could not interpret. Something he was only told later by his brother. Fear.
,,Please, I insist that your tears should not be shed any more. A gentle healing as opposed to the flames," he murmured, pleased when he saw that she had stopped crying and gave him a grateful look. Applying the slab to the wound the burning disappeared after a few minutes the warmth remained but the fast beating heart in her chest from the shock was slow to recover.
,,Thank you my king… I should go, my presence disturbs the mourners" she replied to him and rose from her seat, the handkerchief falling into his hands before she hurried to the door. The flower in the face of the sleeping dragon, the pretty coin unused and still open to a hand.
As if possessed by something else, he reached for her hand and held it, not wanting her to leave. ,,My lady, please… I expect you to stay with me," the words of the tone that was a command left his lips at the same time. She had no chance of escaping from this room and the flower had no choice but to give up her pretty goodness to him of her own free will. She came back to him, sat down next to him and stayed with him.
She kept her king company as he commanded and for the first time something like joy, devotion and perhaps love seemed to return to the king's heart.
It was a feeling that had consequences, for in the days and weeks that followed, this feeling was transformed into something found in the Targaryen madness. As the blood of the dragons flowed, the king felt a sense of ownership.
She was his possession and for the first time the dragon in him seemed to stir and finally get rid of the name of the peaceful one.
Something his lovely counterpart had no idea what it meant to face a Targaryen.
The next few days and weeks changed to a different rhythm. Instead of Alicent, the daughter of the hand, the king always had the lady called to him, seeking her company at any given time.
In the morning at his breakfast, he had her called to him, his violet eyes showing joy when he saw her figure, the tip of her nightgown sticking out from under her dark robe.
,,My king, you wanted to see me again," she said and joined him at the table where she sat down opposite him. She knew that he was lonely, her beloved Aeamm was dead and she felt guilty for giving comfort to the king as well as the princess and heiress.
The princess Rhaenyra without a mother, who had often come to her, had taken her lovingly in her arms and cried together while they had been more closely connected. But Viserys felt almost uncomfortable in the face of the dragon.
Rhaenyra the young dragoness her warmth was healing but his fire was burning. She had always liked to be there for her king and somehow also a friend, but now it seemed like the stories in the Masters' books. Every Targaryen is a dragon and a dragon obsessively searches for its treasure to guard.
But something told her that Viserys would gradually fall for this side of the infamous coin. Something she was right about and yet she had no idea how far this would go.
The pair's breakfast was quiet as she saw the king's smile, something that made her happy inside, but as the days and weeks wore on, the dragon's fire seemed to tighten around her. When she was not with Rhaenyra, Alicent or her own advisors for her house, she was always seen with Viserys.
The dragon took the first step when he got up one evening after dinner and fetched a box big enough to store several things in. ,,My dear, I want to thank you for everything you have given me in the last few weeks…I could finally smile again and feel something special," he began and opened the gift of a dress and a necklace for her.
,,Viserys this is a sign of unbelievable craftsmanship I can't accept this" she said and turned away the fear that he would command her again was there but the fear of losing her king and husband of her beloved friend and queen into this darkness again no she couldn't do that. Wasn't it everyone's duty to keep the king happy no matter what the cost?
But the blond Targaryen would not be beaten, he had not just let her body mass give way to images.
He had taken her as far as he could from the outside. With the dress, the fabric he had chosen, the necklace of the best metal of Valyrian steel and the ruby, he would touch her for all to see and make her his. ,,But I insist, my love, on a dress as a token of my gratitude for what you have done," he continued, handing her the fabric, a look of shame on her face as she realized he wanted her to try it on.
Looking around, however, she saw that he must have taken precautions because a partition carved out of fine wood with dragon motifs and legends stood in the room that had not been there before. ,,Please, I insist," he said, not necessarily emphatically, but she knew what he meant.
She could not ignore an order from the king. The fabric of the dark dress was surprisingly warm, like the scales of a dragon, and even if he no longer had Balerion, she knew he could have taken any dragon that was still alive or about to hatch.
His violet eyes lay on the wood seeming to peer through it to see her soft body and the dragon's violet eyes showed lust and devotion as she stepped forward a few minutes later.
,,I-I look like a Targaryen," she murmured, the dark black dress with the red embroidery of a dragon and the finest gold escaping her thoughts. It was not the colors of her house, it was not the color of her Aemma, its colors were the colors of King Viserys Targaryen.
He came up to her and circled her, running his hand carefully over the fabric, ,,Handsome and beautiful," he murmured the words of praise before he stopped behind her and she heard the faint tinkling of metal as she listened to the chain.
She held her breath as she felt the cold Valyrian steel around her neck and ran her fingers over it. ,,A Targaryen you will be too for I have decided my love I want you as my new wife as the new Targaryen Queen" he said taking her hands and for the first time she saw his own madness of the dragon flicker in his eyes.
A will of the King a will that made her cry because even though she liked him and had certain feelings for him, a marriage, becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the responsibility that came with it to bear him children was true.
She couldn't say yes but that's how he knew he could force her…and he did. The first traces of his obsession with his madness were laid the day he married her in the tradition of his house.
The tradition she could not escape. And even if only years later he married his second wife Alicent, the story of the Dance of the Dragons would play out as it was foretold, until then his madness with his second wife his flower was the only thing that mattered.
Her colors of the house long forgotten only reflected in the ring her mother had left her, the lands of her house given to a distant relative whose right to finally see his second niece was punished with wrath by the king.
Viserys for the first time any lords who even dared to question the second queen found themselves impaled on the castle walls, their tongues severed or burned by Syrax, Meyleys or Caraxes when the king ordered his kinsmen to do so.
,,All this because of a woman who doesn't even come from a significant house," she had heard Lord Corlys say, who was on his way back to Driftmark with his wife and the two of them had met with Rhaenyra and Daemon.
The king himself knew from the trouble she was causing that lords and ladies were already looking around whispering about what was going on with the king.
,,Help me my lords my princess," she had dared to join the group, the dark colors on her now like an endless dragon pit where fire awaited her every night.
Viserys didn't let her out of his sight, she slept in his bed every night and even though she tried to love him, she was always trying to return the physical contact with kindness.
With each night, with each time, she saw more and more marks on her body that he left behind, not painfully, but she knew that the fabric of her clothes could hardly cover them any more. She had waited as the king released his anger on her kinsman and banished him from the city.
He had robbed her of her right to the title of Lady of the House. ,,Targaryen should marry houses from Valyria the simple flower perishes in fire" she had begged the group Rhaenyra who had asked her for help so many times had tried to help her.
But with every attempt they made to dragon, to bot or to escape with the carriage everything was blamed on a mysterious attenat by the four of them.
But every attempt failed, and the kingdoms watched as the news of Alicent Hightower's second pregnancy spread through the realms with joy in this delight to the fear of Corly, Rhaenys, Rhaenyra and Daemon Visery's second wife.
First Aemma Arryn died the second wife full of mysteries and strange events the jewel of the king which suddenly disappeared and the third wife who brought peace and war for the future.
But what they all didn't know was that in the depths of the castle, when the king went down with the torch in his hand, he went further in than even his brother probably knew.
The old forgotten Valyrian part and influence revealed itself. ,,My dear, I'm back…did you like the metal?" he asked as he walked through the common room past the cells where he had spiked her after her four "attacks". He wasn't stupid he knew that his own daughter and brother had tried to "save" her with his cousin and her husband.
He knew that they did not approve of this marriage, neither politically nor personally, she had only wanted to return to her home to the last people she had left.
Her friendship with Rhaenyra and Alicent was over. Now she would never escape from the castle again, nor from him
Pulling the key from his robe, he unlocked the large door to the cell. The metal gave way and the bolt was pushed back, which was once for the most serious criminals or the people most in need of protection.
It was the place where the king could finally turn to his true treasure. Not his daughter, his wife, his son or his brother. He was with her, with his true dream, with the woman who would bring him his son and promised prince.
Walking into the great room he saw his beloved his Targaryen the clothes he had brought her the clothes he had given her all in the black and red of the house the jewelry, books and paintings were to entertain her when he was not there. When the dragon didn't come to her in his madness, she prayed almost every night and even though time passed, her belly didn't swell.
No child wanted to grow inside her, but no, it wasn't her fault, it was something else he was sure of. Because when he took her, the shadows of her dragon reflected on the wall and the sounds of her love echoed through the room, he knew that the prince had to spring from her womb.
,,My pretty wife... tell me, how are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to her armchair, where she sat, as always, in front of the fireplace with a book on her lap and an absent look in her eyes.
Fear had been reflected in it at first, but after an indefinite time every house broke under the dragon sooner or later. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, cold and not warm like him, the smile that played around his lips threatening to tip over. The madness only ever lasted until a dragon was no longer entertained.
The grip on her hands tightened for a moment, becoming painful until she finally looked at him. ,,Viserys...you're back...how did it go?" she asked as usual, obviously pretending to him that she was still living on the Hoffe with the others. As if she was always waiting for an opportunity to leave.
But they both knew that she would never leave this room again. ,,The lords are satisfied for a while, don't worry my queen, tell me how your prince is doing" and he put his hand on her flabby belly where even after the countless nights of trying. In trying, she had tried to see all this as a story, a book of the lost maiden who would finally be free when she gave birth to the king's son.
But it seemed that with each passing month everything would become less warm, the fire in the fireplace not warm, the clothes on her no color and his love was the madness of the dragon she had never seen so strong. ,,I try my king every tincture, every meal...even the old books but I don't carry your seed" she murmured and looked at him the violet of his eyes just like Rhaenyras and Daemon's she missed the court, her friends and the sun.
Now she would never be able to escape from the castle or from him. Pulling the key from his robe, he unlocked the large door to the cell. The metal gave way and the bolt was pushed back, which was once for the most serious criminals or the people most in need of protection.
It was the place where the king could finally turn to his true treasure. Not his daughter, his wife, his son or his brother. He was with her, with his true dream, with the woman who would bring him his son and promised prince.
Walking into the great room he saw his beloved his Targaryen the clothes he had brought her the clothes he had given her all in the black and red of the house the jewelry, books and paintings were to entertain her when he was not there.
When the dragon didn't come to her in his madness, she prayed almost every night and even though time passed, her belly didn't swell. No child wanted to grow inside her, but no, it wasn't her fault, it was something else he was sure of.
Because when he took her, the shadows of her dragon reflected on the wall and the sounds of her love echoed through the room, he knew that the prince had to spring from her womb.
,,My pretty wife... tell me, how are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to her armchair, where she sat, as always, in front of the fireplace with a book on her lap and an absent look in her eyes. Fear had been reflected in it at first, but after an indefinite time every house broke under the dragon sooner or later.
He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, cold and not warm like him, the smile that played around his lips threatening to tip over. The madness only ever lasted until a dragon was no longer entertained.
The grip on her hands tightened for a moment, becoming painful until she finally looked at him. ,,Viserys...you're back...how did it went?" she asked as usual, obviously pretending to him that she was still living on the Hoffe with the others. As if she was always waiting for an opportunity to leave.
But they both knew that she would never leave this room again. ,,The lords are satisfied for a while, don't worry my queen, tell me how your prince is doing" and he put his hand on her flat belly where even after the countless nights of trying. In trying, she had tried to see all this as a story, a book of the lost maiden who would finally be free when she gave birth to the king's son.
But it seemed that with each passing month everything would become less warm, the fire in the fireplace not warm, the clothes on her no color and his love was the madness of the dragon she had never seen so strong.
,,I try my king every tincture, every meal...even the old books but I don't carry your seed" she murmured and looked at him the violet of his eyes just like Rhaenyras and Daemon's she missed the court, her friends and the sun.
Viserys let out a disappointed sigh he knew it wasn't because of her she never did she was young and of Targaryen blood there had to be a child someday. His hand went from her leg to her hands and took the book from her, his specially chosen book on Valyria.
She knew that ever since he had given her the keldi that he had made her into something. A Targayren tried to transform her in one way and another. His hand slid gently over hers, its softness stimulating, it was something like another time.
But when his other hand slid down from her flat, bare belly and stroked the fabric of her legs, she knew exactly what he wanted. What he was here for almost every time. His initial gentleness soothing the kisses, hugs, gifts and caresses.
But his other way the coin that was thrown this madness was burning. ,,I know you're trying my love and I'll be there for you...for our child" he said softly as he lifted her out of the chair and gave her a kiss.
His warmth burned on her like a fire but it was the only thing she felt that was still real as she returned the kiss. her arms slowly wrapped around him, clinging to the dragon's scales, her knees to his wings, feeling the warmth of his fire as he gently stroked the kelid from her body.
The dragon laid her on the tower of coins, the bed of old wood carved with signs of Valyria. His gestures, words and pain the lust mingled with the pain. But she seemed to react to him again after a long time, to finally feel that burning sensation inside her.
But she looked at him saw the dragon the madness and perhaps it was because of the flames of the fireplace that she saw Balerion the black dread in the shadows, Viserys rising as the dragon Valyrias.
She herself was seized by the fire when she felt him again, as she did every night. But this time it was different it seemed the uncertainty was burned out of her the house she once belonged to the name was irrelevant.
She mattered as his queen...as the woman who would bear the promised prince to the king. Perhaps she herself had fallen into the madness of the Targayren before all this, and now rose as a dragon from the flames.
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#hotd#house of the dragon#king viserys#viserys targaryen#viserys the peaceful#viserys x reader#viserys targaryen x reader#hotd fanfic#reader is female#yandere
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A (Rhaenicent) Analysis of Mysaria x Rhaenyra Scenes in 2x06:
Disclaimer: This is a long Rhaenicent reading of the scenes! Those of you who ship Rhaesaria but not Rhaenicent pls be chill about it, thanks :)
Rhaenyra and Mysaria have three interesting scenes together in 2x06. In the first one, Mysaria finds a restless Rhaenyra wielding a sword. Just previously, Rhaenyra slapped Lord Bartimos for undermining her and received a metaphorical slap on the face by the death of Ser Steffon Darklyn. Mysaria, as she has done many times before, gives Rhaenyra support and encouragement. Once more she makes sure to spin around Rhaenyra's emotional state and alleviate her worries by mentioning the good news regarding the plot she set forth: "The smallfolk of King's Landing are listening."
"This... becomes you." Just then, as Rhaenyra is about to leave, Mysaria comments on how flattering the sword is in Rhaenyra's hands, who blushes and awkwardly exits the room. Has Mysaria found Rhaenyra's vulnerable spot?
"May I be free for even one hour of the constant refrain of Daemon, Daemon, Daemon?" The second scene begins with Rhaenyra and Jace's conversation. Jace emphasizes the importance of Daemon's aid and presence, which infuriates Rhaenyra. Mysaria soon appears and reports on their plans. Rhaenyra notices and appreciates that Mysaria does not think that either of them needs Daemon. Mysaria seems to have full trust in Rhaenyra's abilities. As they gaze into the distance, Rhaenyra can't help but be drawn toward Mysaria's alluring aura of faith in Rhaenyra's leadership.
"I do not think I can win this war." In the third scene, Mysaria informs Rhaenyra of further developments in their plot, but Rhaenyra's confidence in herself has wavered. Mysaria can't let such feelings accumulate and must correct this behavior. Isn't she Rhaenyra's only ally who sees her true potential after all?
"He has ever done what suits Daemon." Mysaria builds on the common ground she shares with Rhaenyra. They both know Daemon for who he is, having both shared a sexual and emotionally costly relationship with him. The two alone know what Daemon is like. Mysaria's taste of power and freedom without Daemon intrigues Rhaenyra.
"He was everything I wanted to be... a man." Rhaenyra expresses that she would rather be born a man, a sentiment previously disclosed only to Alicent and her mother.
"You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition." While Queen Aemma wasn't fond of Rhaenyra's pursuits, Alicent was supportive of Rhaenyra's decisions during their teenage years. With eagerness and awe, she waited for Rhaenyra to return on dragonback and took pride in seeing her be her fearless and assertive self. Alicent knew that Rhaenyra was cut out for greater things than motherhood and feminine domestic pursuits.
"I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory." Rhaenyra appears dejected because her own mother does not understand her, further enforcing the narrative that the childbed should be Rhaenyra's battlefield. Rhaenyra is most comfortable discussing her dreams and aspirations with Alicent, who she knows would not scoff at them but would champion them. Alicent, once again, would be proud of Rhaenyra.
"I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea and eat only cake." Having Alicent's support and unwavering faith in her, Rhaenyra is relaxed and at ease. Even before Viserys named Rhaenyra his heir, Alicent was her only ally who knew her potential. When that trust in each other is breached, Rhaenyra (much like Alicent) feels alone.
"You have me." Mysaria becomes the embodiment of young Alicent who always believed and sided with Rhaenyra. For her own part, Rhaenyra has come to be comfortable around Mysaria, the same way she was with Alicent. She allowed herself to become emotionally vulnerable with Mysaria and discuss her dreams, having done so previously only with Alicent. Mysaria picks on that cue, and she becomes equally vulnerable in front of her by sharing her own harrowing story. She achieves the desired effect because she incites Rhaenyra's empathy and stirs her emotions. Is Rhaenyra reminded of her own mother's butchering and having been offered comfort by Alicent that she is now moved to do the same for Mysaria?
"I will serve you. I believe you are meant to be Queen." As Mysaria affirms her support of her, is Rhaenyra perhaps reminded of Alicent's support and belief in her? Is that the motivation behind the hug that so parallels Alicent's hug with Rhaenyra when she dressed and readied her friend for her first appearance as heir? Does she look for comfort in Mysaria's neck, just as Alicent did with hers?
"The princess was more suited to the role." Is Rhaenyra reminded of Alicent's public defense of her birthright during Aegon's second nameday, when she declared that Rhaenyra was suited to take Daemon's place as heir? Or is she reminded of Alicent's more recent revelation in the sept, of having never ceased to believe in her abilities?
Mysaria sees how much Rhaenyra requires an advisor, friend, ally, and supporter and fills that void in her desire to safeguard her position and to possess and control Rhaenyra. Using sex to gain more power is familiar to her. Mysaria's comments on Rhaenyra's worthiness to rule, the pride she takes in her leadership and the security she feels around her are sentiments that Rhaenyra herself sought to find in Alicent, who had the same pride and admiration of her abilities when they were young girls. Rhaenyra had missed the genuine praise and support that Alicent gave her and saw a glimpse of that in Mysaria.
As they embraced, Rhaenyra was transported back to her reckless and free childhood years when she was so celebrated by her childhood friend and crush. When she saw Alicent again in the sept, Alicent had affirmed her devotion to the same belief: that Rhaenyra would make a fine Queen, and that Alicent used to be proud of her.
Now that Alicent is out of reach, Mysaria has made herself indispensable to Rhaenyra by embodying the same supportive figure that Rhaenyra was seeking all along. As a result, Rhaenyra hugs and kisses her without hesitation just as she would teenage Alicent.
#i hope this makes sense#rhaenicent#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#hotd meta#hotd analysis#hotd thoughts#welighttheway#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd season 2#hotd s2#house of the dragon season 2#hotd s2 e6#hod s2 ep6#s2 rhaenicent moments#greenqueenhightower#rhaenyra x alicent#alicent x rhaenyra#rhaenyra x mysaria#mysaria x rhaenyra#mysaria#team green#team black
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Okay so to everyone who was here for the original post, here’s basically how Alicent and Laenor get married in my lavender marriage au:
The entire thing starts because Alicent catches Laenor and Joffrey fucking in a secluded part of the castle a few weeks before Aemma dies. The boys only realize they’ve been caught because Alicent runs away from them like her ass is on fire. That girl had no idea gay male sex was an option in life and now needs to reevaluate everything in her life after catching them.
Laenor then spends the next few weeks trying to find a way to get her alone because guess what. Fucking in a secluded but also public area is not a good strategy if you want to keep your gay love affair a secret. So now Laenor is hoping to convince Alicent to stay quiet about what she saw because his dad seems to think he'll grow out of it (do not attack me, this literally happens in canon) and he doesn’t want anyone to know yet since it might impact who he’ll get married to eventually. Meanwhile Alicent is desperately trying to forget that she ever saw anything and doesn’t tell Otto about seeing Laenor and Joffrey because let's be real. This man said “childhood companions” like it was a slur in that one scene, so she knows that her father would do something with this information. Alicent does not want to be the reason Joffrey and Laenor are in trouble for their relationship. Nevermind that she’s suddenly having the realization that women liking women isn’t that far of a stretch after all.
Unfortunately, to everyone else in the world, it looks like Laenor is trying to court her and that Alicent is just trying to be very polite about his interest in her since she never wants to be alone in a room with him unless they’re around other people. Which is something that is totally normal and not weird at all. Why would you say otherwise?
Then Aemma dies and Otto sends her to see Viserys in his room and Alicent is now very stressed about something else in her life because she wants to do what her father says, but she also doesn’t want to betray Rhaenyra.
So during those six months after Aemma dies - which is apparently how much times passes between Aemma’s death and when Viserys decides to marry Alicent according to a HOTD article I read - Alicent, like in canon, is sent by her father to Viserys’ chambers and desperately hopes that her father’s ambitions won’t happen and that Viserys will simply see her as person that is supporting him in his grief.
(Life Hack: If you ever want to read an article and it says you have to make an account to read the rest of it, just go back to the google page you found it on, right click the link, and save the link as an HTML document. That lets you read the article without having to make an account. I found this out from someone on the internet and damn did it help when I wanted to access any account restricted article. Anyways, back to the plot.)
So to counteract that and make it so she’s less appealing to Viserys, Alicent always mentions Laenor and how fond of him she is during their talks. She also mentions how worried she is about Rhaenyra and her position as heir because there seems to be so many people that seem to be under the impression that they can replace her by having Viserys marry one of their daughters and convince him change his heir to one of the possible children he might have with those daughters.
Meanwhile, Laenor is absolutely losing his mind because all of a sudden Alicent is always around him and receptive to interacting with him, even though literally weeks before she avoided being around him like the plague. During this she also manages to wring out of him the fact that his parents (mainly Corlys, let's be real) are talking about potentially marrying Laena to Viserys and that he hates that idea as she’s way too young in his eyes for that. Eventually Alicent manages to find a way to be alone with Laenor and make him swear to secrecy about what she'll tell him because telling anyone might mean that his sister will actually have to marry Viserys. He does and she fills him in on what her father wants and what she’s attempting to do, and that she needs his cooperation to get him to at least appear like they’re courting.
So Alicent and Laenor put up the appearance that they’re at least attracted to each other to get people talking, which totally doesn’t ignite jealousy in Rhaenyra at the idea of Alicent being in love with her cousin. Cue Rhaenyra absolutely doing everything in her power to make Laenor appear like a loser to Alicent and the rest of the court. Alicent makes sure to get her to stop that shit real quick and tells Rhaenyra that she and Laenor are only pretending to be in love in order to avoid having to marry someone that would disrespect Laenor’s preference for men and disregard Alicent’s autonomy. Alicent also mentions that possibly marrying Laenor means that Alicent and Rhaenyra will be allowed to see each other very frequently as she will be Laenor’s wife and the Velaryons are often at court since they are related to the royal family. So now they have Rhaenyra on board.
Eventually the night before that one small council meeting where in canon Viserys announces that he’ll marry Alicent, Alicent “confesses” to Viserys that she’s in love with Laenor and that she wants to marry him, but that her father would never allow Alicent to marry Laenor because he and Lord Corlys dislike each other. She also lets it “slip” that Otto is very adamant that Viserys must have a male heir despite the fact that Rhaenyra has already been made heir, and that he sees Alicent as a potential bride for Viserys despite her unwillingness to marry her best friend’s father. She also sprinkles in the fact that Rhaenyra would be devastated at the idea of her father remarrying, especially if the bride in question were her best friend or even her little cousin (Yeah fuck you Corlys, you’re on thin ice for that and the grow out of it comment), and the fact that surely his wife would want him to defend his daughter’s claim to the Iron Throne from potential usurpers, which is something that would definitely happen if he had a son.
This causes Viserys to absolutely lose his shit, but Alicent calms him down and he sends her away from his chambers. However, not before Viserys hints that he would not dissolve a marriage between a highborn lady and lord if they eloped and consummated the marriage. So instead of heading straight to her rooms, Alicent instead books it to Laenor’s chambers. The two of them run off to a sept and convince a septon to marry them with a few commoners as their witnesses because they can’t take any nobles in fear of being stopped (and to also have the commoners spread the fact that Alicent and Laenor eloped). Then she and Laenor head off to Laenor’s chambers to consummate the marriage with the help of Joffrey, who they had stay in Laenor’s chambers so that no one would get him in trouble or notice that he was in the room with them during the consummation, and to have Alicent stay over so that people could catch them together in the morning and spread the news of her “ruined reputation”.
The next morning Laena bursts into Laenor’s chambers like she always does and “catches” them before running off to tell Rhaenys the way all little siblings do. So then Rhaenys and Corlys show up, as does Otto; he caught wind of the situation through a servant he paid off to spy on the Velaryons. Once there Otto starts shaming Alicent about her ruined reputation and Laenor retorts that she didn’t ruin anything as he married her before he bedded her. Otto then explodes at the pair when Laenor says that and Corlys rushes to defend his son against all the stuff Otto is saying and threatening him with.
Eventually their argument gets so loud that a servant rushes to get Viserys and a few guards since they’re afraid that the two lords will resort to violence. Trailing after them is Rhaenyra and the Small Council, as the meeting was supposed to start half an hour ago but certain people were missing and needed to be found. So now the entire Small Council, Rhaneyra, and Viserys are at the doorway of Laenor’s room while a furious Otto and Corlys trade insults. Meanwhile Rhaenys sees how afraid Alicent and Laenor are and rushes to the pair’s defense (because they need someone in their corner that isn’t shaming the other party), saying that perhaps the two wouldn’t have resorted to eloping if Otto and Corlys weren't always at odds. Seeing the King, Otto rushes to demand that he have the septon reverse the marriage, but Viserys reveals that he knows about Otto’s plan to make Alicent marry him and how he knows that she wished to marry Laenor instead. He then fires Otto from being Hand and sends him packing to Oldtown, approving of Laenor and Alicent’s marriage as a final insult to Otto. He also firmly informs the small council that he will not be getting remarried, that Rhaenyra will remain his heir, and that anyone who objects otherwise is speaking of treason.
So there you go, the outline for a story that I’m most likely going to write in non-linear bits. In this world Alicent is Lady of Driftmark, Laenor and Joffrey get to be happy, and Viserys prioritizes making sure that Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne is secure. Also somewhere down the line in this universe Rhaenyra and Alicent get their shit together and realize they’re in love with each other, and Rhaenyra gets to marry Harwin because Daemon never takes her to the brothel and so she gets to pick her husband and be the polyamorous bi queen we all love.
#i literally want to scream. this took so long to think out. but like.#i didn't want to write this fic linearly so i had to put this out for everyone to understand the origin story of my au.#because i have so many drafts of certain scenes and i didn't want to wait to publish them linearly. so sorry.#maybe i'll write this specific outline out properl one day. but right now i just want to dump all my little au ideas out into the world.#alicent & laenor lavender marriage au#alicent hightower#laenor velaryon#joffrey lonmouth#rhaenyra targaryen#otto hightower#corlys velaryon#rhaenys targaryen#viserys targaryen#laenor x joffrey#rhaenicent#rhaewin#illium.txt
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Pyrite - Final Chapter: Valonqar
Series Masterlist
Chapter Summary: Daemon gets to know the joys of quarantine and faces conflicting feelings in the hours after Otto's and Mellos’ execution.
Warnings: Execution (Via beheading) Mentions of abortion. Mentions of physical violence. Dub con (Reader is given a choice but due to the nature of the power imbalance between Daemon and her, she doesn't really have one)Implied smut. Unhappy ending for anyone except Viserys.
A/N: I am sorry to the requester, I deviated a bit. But we are done!!!!
Daemon grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards his chambers. He was not happy about being on babysitting duty, but he knew it was the only thing they could do. Without his protection, you would not last a day out there. He had been able to read the truth from your face after just one conversation. Otto Hightower was much more shrewd than him, you would break in seconds.
He supposed Aemma could keep you in her rooms and prevent the scandal. But privately, Viserys had confessed he feared she had gone mad with grief. He did not trust her to be in the same room as you without clawing your eyes out. Daemon did not understand her actions, since you had tried to help her, but he wasn't a mother either. Aemma seemed traumatized by her child's death.
She cursed your name for having your letter arrive too late. Daemon was not a woman. Nor did he presume to know the mind of one, but it seemed a little unfair. You had looked out for her at your own risk, yet Aemma still wanted more.
Viserys could not keep you, either. He was too afraid for his reputation, now that he was about to become a King. What would people think of a servant girl being kept in his rooms?
He didn't admit it, of course, saying that he was only looking out for your honor, but Daemon could tell that Viserys lusted for the throne. Now that he was so close, that he had lost so much on his quest for it, he was not going to lose it for an insignificant girl.
If he truly cared for your reputation, Viserys would have never agreed to keeping you in Daemon's chambers. Who would marry you, after? Everyone knew what Daemon liked, after all. Young maidens, all soft limbs and cute little faces, all for him to ruin. What commoner would want you after being a Prince's whore?
He wasn't planning on touching you, at first. But the way you looked up at him, all frightened eyes, while sitting on one of his chairs, made his cock twitch with interest.
You were a pretty crier. It was something Daemon had noticed when you were discovered. Your eyes would get glassy, and your lower lip would stick out in the slightest pout. You looked good enough to eat.
He could not wait to see you cry on his cock. But if he acted too soon, you would hate him for it. And they needed to be in your good graces so you didn't do anything stupid on the trial.
It was going to be hard, Daemon thought, as he took a look at your face. Aemma had done a number on you, and his retrieval hadn't been entirely gentle either.
You sniffled, pitifully. Daemon kneeled in front of you with a sigh.
“Let me look at your head.”
You gave him a distrustful look.
“I am not going to hurt you. I want to tend to your injuries.” He explained, patiently.
“For some reason, I don't believe you.” You frowned. “Give me a cloth and I can do it myself, Prince Daemon.”
Daemon fought the urge to laugh. Who did you think you were, ordering him around? Instead, he grabbed a cloth and a pitcher of water, and brought them over to you.
You wiped your hands and face with it. Daemon watched, aware that you would not be able to clean the wound on your head on your own. You tried regardless, dabbing a clean cloth over your scalp, trying to reach blindly for the spot that was oozing blood.
He kept his eyes on you, not interfering until you were visibly frustrated.
“Do you need help?”
“No.” You glared, rubbing at your scalp harshly. Daemon stepped closer and took the cloth from you, ignoring your indignant squeaks. He assessed the damage to the back of your skull.
Your hair, braided back as it was, was matted with blood. He was unable to see much, but it seemed to have stopped flowing.
“I will unbraid your hair to look at the wound.” Daemon warned, and started taking your braid apart.
You went very still on your chair, as he untangled sticky hair strands from each other. Your braid was simple, but well constructed. It was clear that you knew quite a bit about how to do your own hair, considering the softness of it. It didn't feel like the hair of any other commoner Daemon had ever felt before. A shame it was caked in blood. He would have to ensure you got a bath soon.
As he parted your hair, shifting it in different directions, he noticed the small laceration on your skull. Nothing was showing through it, not even bone. Daemon knew that was a good sign. It was sizable enough to merit stitches, though.
“I will need to sew this. Do you need milk of the poppy?” He asked, as he went to collect thread and needle from his vanity. A Maester should be the one doing this, and he doubted he had the necessary qualifications to do so, but at the moment, Daemon had no other choice. He didn't trust anyone.
“Do you even know how to sew wounds, my Prince?” You asked, looking at him over your shoulder. It was a fair question, had he not been a squire a few years back. Daemon had earned his knighthood not so long ago, and he still vividly remembered his training.
“I am a knight, girl.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if he styled his name with the title, like some other cunts did, but he still was one. “Do you know what that means?”
“That you are supposed to uphold your oaths, my Prince?” And oh, how sweet. You truly were a naive little thing. It was no wonder you had charged into danger as you had, if you still believed in that bullshit. To Daemon, knights were just like any other men. No more honorable nor more just. Oaths could be broken, after all.
“Yes. But also that I was a squire. I have sewn a few wounds before, including my own.” But never a head wound, he thought to himself. Ah, what you did not know wouldn't hurt you. If he told you, you would insist on a Maester. Daemon couldn't risk it. No one could know you were here.
“I rather be awake, my Prince.”
“Suit yourself.” He stepped behind you and pressed down on your nape, getting you to lower your head. Daemon made sure you were still before starting sewing.
With each pass of the needle, you tensed more. It was a foolish thing to do, only increasing your pain.
“Don't tense. The pain is worse like that.” He advised, and kept at it. You obeyed, forcing your body to relax. It still looked like you were sitting rigidly on the chair, but you weren't clenching your jaw any longer.
As Daemon progressed, he kept a close eye on your reactions. Knuckles turning white against the armchair, breath coming out in pained little sounds. But no tears fell. Had you cried them all already? Or were you too proud to show your pain to him?
With you unmoving, it was not difficult to finish your stitches. He took a step back, admiring the white thread decorating your skull. It contrasted harshly against the red of your blood. Daemon felt oddly proud of it.
“You can have the bed tonight.” He grumbled, annoyed. Why did he feel the need to help you, suddenly? Playing nice was one thing, but why was he feeling bad? It had only been a hit to the back of the head. He had done much worse when dueling men. Drew more blood, severed more limbs. Even took their lives.
But you were a woman. A girl, really. Around his age, and vulnerable to the world. It felt uncomfortably like hurting a child. Why? What made you special? He had taken quite a few maidenheads already, and not even then he had felt like this. You looked like a wounded bird.
“What if I get blood on your sheets?”
“The servants are used to it.” The joke felt flat on his tongue. He gave you a wink, but his heart wasn't in it. Daemon could not stand another second in this room with you, reeking of pain and staring at him with those betrayed eyes. Better to head out and hit the city. He needed to numb himself. And by the time you were up, he would just be getting in.
Daemon allowed you to exist undisturbed in his room for almost a week. He provided water for you to bathe, and fresh clothes for you to change into. The routine stayed the same. He went out at night, and you slept in his bed. When you woke, you had to get out of it and entertain yourself so he could sleep.
He usually enjoyed a night out. But the constant whoring and drinking was beginning to tire him, especially since it was affecting his training. There were only so many brothels he could visit before noticing he was unsatisfied with the stock their carried because not one of them looked like you.
Ugh. The urge to fuck you was messing with his head, making him unfocused. Daemon had actually lost a sparring match this week, but he was unsure if it was from a lack of sleep or being plagued by thoughts of you.
He needed to get you out of his system. He had enough. You no longer looked like a wounded little bird. It was time to make his move.
That night, Daemon decided to skip the brothels. He sat on his bed, freshly bathed after training, and just watched you stew.
You were sitting on a pillow in the corner of his room, some books spread out around you. They were part of his small collection on Valyrian herbs. You were wearing your night shift already, and sneaking glances at him every few minutes.
He was breaking your unspoken arrangement, you sure thought. Daemon was supposed to leave so you could sleep. A shame it was not happening tonight.
“Girl.” He said, once he had enough of watching you squirm. “Pour me a glass of wine.”
You looked at him. You gave an annoyed little huff. Even if you did not dare voice it, Daemon could see the protest in your eyes. You were not used to serving men, from what he could tell. Nor were you used to serving wine. You thought yourself above those tasks, one of those fancy handmaidens that only brush hair and run baths.
And it showed. Sure, you were tidy and didn't make a mess of his rooms, but you didn't help either. You had not reached for a broom in your whole stay, or dusted anything. If he wasn't a tidy person, the place would be as unsanitary as a cheap brothel.
It had never bothered him before, not being able to call for a servant to clean his rooms. But it now did. He tried not to think very hard about why that was. It didn't mean anything. Your presence did not upset him. He was just bothered by the fact that you were like a leech.
Daemon had no use for you. His space was being invaded by a girl with unsettling eyes, who acted as if this was her prison and did not contribute at all. Anyone would be bothered by it. Right?
Anyone would be done with it. Daemon would rather behead Otto and end it all. But apparently, you could not just behead one of your subjects, or everyone started talking about Maegor the cruel.
“I do not have any use for a commoner.” Daemon stated, plainly. He advanced towards you, grasping your chin in his hand. “Do you understand what will happen to you if I kick you out?”
“I'll die.” Your voice shook. Daemon scowled. He didn't like the thing that you were doing with your eyes.
“Then you best try to please me, right?” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “Wouldn't want me to hand you over.”
You shook your head. You went and poured him his wine.
“I don't like your eyes.” Daemon said, impatiently. “Try to smile more.”
You gave him a weak smile. It set the tone for the rest of your interactions. You were a clumsy cup bearer, and took badly to sleeping on the floor. Daemon had to constantly snap at you to wipe the sad look from your face. It looked ugly, and the only good thing you had to your favor were your looks. That was why his stomach twisted when he caught you thinking of home or your family.
When the day of the trial came, you looked relieved. You managed to give your testimony without any issue, and his grandfather ruled in their favor. Aemma gets her revenge, with the King allowing Viserys to bring the head of Ser Otto and Mellos to his wife. He can't bring himself to do it, so it's Daemon who swings the sword instead.
Otto Hightower kneels for his execution with great grace. He sends Daemon a glare, but doesn't say a word. Mellos, on the other hand, screams and pleads all the way up the steps to the block.
Daemon gets a sick sort of satisfaction when he sees them both kneeling at his feet. Is this what being King feels like? He wonders, as he shares a secret smile with Aemma, who stands in the first row of the crowd. The power to hurt those who have wronged you.
Next to Aemma, you stand. You look pale and fidgety, but the grip she has in your arm prevents you from escaping. It's only fair, she had said, that you get to witness the King's justice you helped bring. You don't seem excited about it.
“Any last words?” Daemon asks, as he unsheathes Dark Sister.
“Please, don't, this has been a mistake!” Mellos screams. Daemon waits patiently. When nothing more than incoherent sobs come out from his mouth, Daemon glances up at his grandfather.
King Jaehaerys looks grim, but determined. He nods. Daemon takes Mellos’ head with one clean swoop of his sword. The head rolls into the basket with straw, preventing the blood from running everywhere. The eyelids still move. The crowd gasps, and Daemon feels strangely empty.
“I am ready for my last words now.” The Hightower cunt says, with a firm voice. Daemon can't help be both annoyed and impressed by it. Most men, like Mellos, would be shitting themselves in fear. But Ser Otto remains calm and regal, even when he knows he is about to face death.
“Speak.”
“Good pious people, I have come here to die, for according to the law and by the law I am judged to die. I do not wish to accuse any man or woman, for if the King says I am to die, I shall. I only ask that my actions are judged fairly in the years to come, and no harm comes to my family. Let it not be that the crimes of the father follow the son. I take my leave of this world and ask you to pray for me. To the Seven I commend my soul, please, Stranger, have mercy on me.”
And maybe it was the hypocritical speech, or the fact that Otto Hightower was the mastermind behind the plot to hurt his family, but this time Daemon swing his sword with much more force than necessary. The head rolls out of the box and into the crowd, falling near the first row, among horrified screams.
Right at your feet.
You turned and left. And Daemon stood, with his bloodied sword, still near the executioner's block.
There is a feast after. One that you are not allowed to attend. Nothing so crass as to celebrate the death of the two criminals, but rather, the settling of the succession issue. The plot, even if it had to do nothing with Rhaenys, had been damaging enough to doom her hopes of being Queen.
It is then, high on victory and still wearing a dirtied sword, that Daemon decides to use his power over you. It's not a conscious choice. There is something in him that broke tonight, something to do with a severed head and your look of disgust, and the cheers of Aemma and Viserys. It's something about feeling empty, when having the world at his fingertips.
He is soon to be the Prince of Dragonstone. With Viserys lack of heirs, he might even become King one day, if he doesn't set aside Aemma and finds himself a younger wife.
Daemon wonders if Aemma realizes how precarious her position has turned, now that she got her revenge. If she had kept quiet, if she had let Rhaenys get the Iron Throne, her position would be secure. The Arryns would not allow Viserys to put her aside.
But now, that her husband will be King, she will never be safe. Queens fall every day, as Rhaenys has learned. It seems it is time for Aemma to learn that lesson.
You are packing your things when he gets there. Clothes and a small collection of trinkets from the time you had spent by his side. It enrages him. You can't leave. Not when you are the only person who can understand what these weeks have been like. The only one who knows exactly the kind of monster Viserys has turned him into.
“Where are you going?” It comes out more aggressive than he intends to, but you no longer cower at his voice.
“I don't know.” You meet his eyes and keep your voice soft. “Away, my Prince.”
“No, you are not.” Daemon orders, and leaves Dark Sister laying on the rug. The blood rusts the blade, but what does it matter, at this point? If you are leaving, he can call a maid tomorrow. If you are not, everyone can know you as his whore. “Pour me some wine.”
You obey, in silence. Your hands shake slightly.
“Pour yourself a cup, too.” Daemon says, patting the space by his side. You sit, very stiffly.
“Well done.” Daemon says. You give him a little nod. “Now take your dress off.”
“Excuse me?” You jump up so fast, you might as well have never been sitting. Your hands ball by your side, an indignant expression clear on your face.
“Come on, girl. You are not that stupid.” Daemon rolls his eyes. He has protected you for nearly a fortnight, let you take his bed and food and not even once touched you. He killed a man today who would have crushed you like a worm. No one else would want you after this, no one else would understand you. “You owe me a great debt. What other use could I have for a commoner?”
“I can pay my debt in other ways.” You protest, and go back to gathering your things.
Daemon laughs. It sounds broken to his own ears, cruel and shrill. You turn to face him, noticing the difference in tone. Yet, he is not deterred, even when he barely recognizes the cruel tone he is speaking in.
“Yes. You can. I think you would make a fine dragon keeper. You have little skill for anything else, but anyone can shovel shit. I think five years of that would be a fair trade.”
“Or I could just go.” You threaten.
“You could.” And get yourself murdered in the process because there is no way Viserys and him are letting you walk away with all you have learned in your stay with them. And if they don't get you, sickness and famine might. As the northerners say, winter is coming.
“Princess Aemma…” And it’s only then that Daemon gets fed up. You think Aemma out of all people will protect you? Aemma? Has he been doing such a shitty job of it?
“Aemma said I had to protect you. She did not say I couldn't have you.”
“I…” You start, but Daemon is too desperate to care about how cruel he is starting to sound.
“You should hope her reach doesn't go far, as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Tell me, how much do you have? Enough to buy passage into Essos?”
“I'll stay.” You untie your dress, with tear filled eyes. It falls to your hips. Daemon rushes to you like a man possessed. The urge to own, claim, to keep, is too strong to resist.
He wastes no time in burrowing himself in your skin, your hair, carving a place for himself inside you. He is a monster. And intends on devouring you whole.
His love will strangle you until nothing is left. Maybe one day you will be his Queen if Viserys doesn't leave Aemma. By then, you will be just like him.
He kisses down your throat, and lowers a hand between your thighs.
“Stay.” Daemon says, and it feels like the first link on the chain. “Stay.” Muttered between your thighs, as he drowns himself on you.
“Stay.” As your blood stains his shaft, and you moan, confused by whatever you are feeling. As your hips meet his, as you are desperate to choke, to die in his hands.
“I'll stay.” You whisper back, coming down for your high, and the lock clicks.
Has really a key been thrown away if no one hears the sound it makes as it falls?
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The Dragon's Right (6)
- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.
- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen
- Note: For all the parts of this story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.
- Rating: Explicit 18+
- Word count: 7 000+
- Previous part: 5
- Next part: 7
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff
The hour was late, the Red Keep quiet as the court had retired for the night. You sat awake in your chambers, the faint light of a candle flickering beside you. The endless routine of court life had left you restless, your mind too heavy with thoughts to find sleep. You had become accustomed to the dull rhythm of politics and responsibility since your return to King’s Landing, but the weight of it all still gnawed at you.
You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the weariness that had settled deep in your bones. Just as you considered whether to rise and take another walk around the room, the door to your chambers creaked open without warning or announcement.
Expecting your uncle Daemon, as was often the case, you sighed inwardly, preparing yourself for another round of complaints about Otto Hightower’s growing influence or another suggestion to join him in the lower city for some ill-advised adventure. But when you turned, you were surprised to see Rhaenyra standing in the doorway instead.
Her presence filled the room instantly, her usual quiet grace now tinged with something more urgent. Her violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in her gaze that was both familiar and unsettling, a mixture of affection and determination.
"I needed to see you once more today," she said softly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room.
You frowned slightly, worried by the intensity in her voice. "Rhaenyra, it’s late. If someone sees you—"
She shook her head, cutting you off as she approached. "I don’t care," she replied, her voice firm. "I spoke with Alicent."
At the mention of her friend, your frown deepened. "What did you say to her?"
"I told her to stay away from you," Rhaenyra said bluntly, her tone laced with a mixture of frustration and jealousy.You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "Rhaenyra… you and Alicent are close. You shouldn’t—"
"I know," she interrupted, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "But I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way she tries to get close to you, the way she looks at you... It drives me mad."
Her confession hit you like a blow, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, the battle between her loyalty to her friend and the possessive jealousy she couldn’t suppress. You stood, taking a step toward her, unsure of how to navigate the storm of emotions that now swirled between you.
"Rhaenyra," you began carefully, "I don’t want you getting into trouble because of this. Whatever the situation is between us, it doesn’t need to affect your friendship with Alicent."
She crossed the distance between you, her eyes never leaving yours. "I thought about it all day," she whispered, her voice softer now. "About what we talked about earlier. About us."
Your breath caught in your throat as she stepped closer, her presence overwhelming your senses. "I thought about it too," you admitted, your voice low. "But we have to be careful."
"Do we?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone challenging. "We’re Targaryens. It’s in our blood. Why should we deny what we feel?"
Before you could answer, she closed the final gap between you and, without hesitation, climbed into your lap. Her fingers brushed lightly against your neck as she leaned in, her lips finding yours with a fierce determination that sent a shiver through your entire body.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as you gave in to the emotions you had been trying to suppress. Your hands instinctively moved to her hips, holding her in place as she pressed herself against you. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, the feel of her lips—it was intoxicating, and before you knew it, you were trailing your hands up her back, pulling her closer still.
Her lips parted under yours, and the kiss became something more—more urgent, more desperate, as if the floodgates you had feared had finally broken open. Every touch, every movement was an exploration of the complex feelings that had been building between you both for so long. You could feel her fingers tangling in your hair, her breath quickening as the kiss deepened further.
The world outside disappeared as you lost yourself in her—your sister, your blood, your equal. The lines between love, desire, and duty blurred until they were indistinguishable, leaving only the two of you, caught in a moment that felt inevitable.
Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless, your foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath. Rhaenyra’s fingers traced along your jaw, her touch gentle yet possessive. There was a softness in her eyes now, an affection that spoke of something deeper than mere attraction.
"How can we stop this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your thoughts, but when you opened them again, all you could see was her—Rhaenyra, your sister, your equal, the one person who understood you in ways no one else ever could. You reached up, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, your thumb grazing her cheek.
"I don’t know if we can," you admitted softly, your voice filled with the weight of your confession. "But we have to be careful. Father would never allow it. The court, the Faith… they would try to tear us apart."
Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened with defiance as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "Then let them try."
The fire in her words ignited something in you, something that had been smoldering for so long but now burned brightly. You kissed her again, softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring every moment.
When you pulled away, you smiled down at her, your fingers tracing along her arm. "You’re dangerous, Rhaenyra."
A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and affection. "I learned from the best."
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "We need to be smart about this."
"I know," she whispered, her tone more serious now. "But I can’t help what I feel. And neither can you."
You held her gaze, the weight of the truth settling between you. There was no going back now. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was the ire of the court, the disapproval of your father, or the dangers that came with your newfound connection—you both knew that this was a path you had chosen.
The atmosphere in the small council chamber was tense the next morning. King Viserys sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought as his advisors gathered to discuss the ongoing matters of the realm. Corlys Velaryon, ever the advocate for action in the Stepstones, was the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the room.
“The situation in the Stepstones cannot be ignored any longer, Your Grace,” Corlys began, leaning forward in his seat. “The Free Cities are growing bolder by the day, and their pirates choke the trade routes we depend on. If we do not act soon, it will become more than a mere annoyance—it will be a full-scale war, one we are not prepared for.”
Viserys sighed heavily, his eyes weary. This had been a topic of constant debate for months now, and the pressures of dealing with the Stepstones weighed heavily on his shoulders. “I understand your concerns, Lord Corlys,” Viserys said, his voice tired but steady. “But sending men and ships to the Stepstones will require resources we cannot easily spare. And with the situation at home—”
“We cannot afford not to act,” Corlys interjected, his tone more urgent now. “The crown’s strength is being tested on multiple fronts. If we do nothing, we will be seen as weak, and those who oppose us will seize that opportunity.”
Viserys leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the council’s concerns pressed down on him. He knew Corlys was right in many ways, but the thought of yet another conflict on the horizon was one he dreaded. Before he could respond, Tayland Lannister spoke up hesitantly, his voice carrying a note of caution.
“Your Grace… there’s another matter that requires your attention,” Tayland began, glancing nervously around the table before continuing. “Dorne… it seems there have been reports along the borders again. They’ve been unusually quiet since Prince Y/N returned to the capital with his dragon, but now there are whispers of movement once more. It’s… concerning.”
Viserys’s expression darkened as he turned to Tayland, the mention of Dorne stirring up memories of the years-long skirmishes his son had just returned from. “Are you suggesting,” Viserys said slowly, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration, “that my only son should be sent back to wage another campaign against Dorne? After everything he has already sacrificed?”
The room fell into an uneasy silence. Tayland shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly regretting his words. “No, Your Grace, I… I only meant to say that the situation is escalating again. But I agree, it would be unwise to send Prince Y/N back into that… turmoil so soon after his return.”
Viserys’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair, his frustration evident. “He has just returned to us, to his family. I will not send him back to fight a war that may never truly end. There must be another solution.”
Lord Lyonel Strong, always the voice of reason, spoke up after a brief pause. “Your Grace, I understand your desire to protect your son, as do we all. But we must acknowledge the importance of securing our borders. Dorne is unpredictable, and if they sense weakness, they will strike. However, sending the prince to face them again is not a long-term solution. We cannot afford to jeopardize the king’s only male heir every time a threat arises.”
Lyonel’s words hung heavy in the air, and the other council members nodded in agreement. The stakes were high, and while Y/N had proven himself a capable warrior, his constant involvement in these dangerous conflicts was not sustainable for the future of the realm.
Grand Maester Mellos, who had been quietly observing the conversation, cleared his throat and added his voice to the discussion. “Lord Lyonel speaks wisely. Prince Y/N has more than proven his worth on the battlefield, but his place is here, at court, preparing to take on the responsibilities of the crown. We cannot risk his life in prolonged skirmishes. It is the duty of the crown to ensure stability for the future.”
Viserys exhaled slowly, nodding as he absorbed the council’s words. “You’re right, all of you. My son has done more than enough for the realm, and I will not send him to fight these endless battles again. We must find a way to secure our borders without sacrificing my heir.”
Corlys, though still eager for action, seemed to understand the king’s concern. He leaned back slightly, his tone more measured now. “If we do not wish to send Prince Y/N back into the fray, then we must consider strengthening our defenses along the Dornish border. More men, perhaps. More fortifications. A show of force to deter any further incursions.”
Lyonel nodded in agreement. “A strong presence on the border may be enough to keep Dorne in check, at least for the time being. It would send a message without committing the prince to another campaign.”
Viserys seemed to take comfort in that suggestion, though the weight of his decisions still sat heavily on his shoulders. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Begin preparations to reinforce our forces along the border. We will not provoke Dorne, but we will not be caught unprepared.”
The council members murmured their agreement, and the conversation turned to the practicalities of mobilizing the necessary men and resources. But as the discussion continued, Viserys’s mind remained elsewhere—on his son, on the future of the realm, and on the difficult choices that lay ahead.
After the meeting adjourned and the council members began to filter out of the room, Viserys sat in silence for a long moment, his thoughts troubled. The kingdom was constantly in a state of unrest, with threats both near and far, and though he longed for peace, it seemed ever elusive.
The days in the capital had begun to stretch into a monotonous blur of courtly duties and council meetings. You found yourself restless, confined by the expectations of your role as the king's heir. The small council had agreed to a strategy to secure the borders of Dorne and strengthen the Stepstones, but to your growing frustration, it was Daemon, not you, who was being sent to deliver the message and oversee its execution alongside Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.
You had spent years on the battlefield, earning your place as a warrior and a leader, and now, to be told that you were needed in the capital rather than on the front lines gnawed at you. Duty was one thing, but to be sidelined while others carried out the work you were more than capable of handling left you feeling as though you were trapped in a gilded cage.
It was on one of those restless days that you found yourself walking through the Dragonpit, the familiar scent of dragon leather and smoke filling the air. Your feet carried you forward instinctively, until you rounded the corner and saw your uncle, Daemon, preparing for his departure. Caraxes, his blood-red dragon, loomed behind him, stretching his wings as if eager to take flight.
Daemon, as always, looked at ease, his armor gleaming under the dim light of the pit. He was speaking with a handful of his men, issuing last-minute orders before mounting his dragon. His casual confidence only seemed to stoke the fire of your frustration further.
“Off to war again, are you, Uncle?” you called, your tone sharper than you intended as you approached.
Daemon turned, a knowing smirk already forming on his lips when he saw you. “Aye, someone has to keep things interesting while you play the dutiful prince in King’s Landing,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar mix of teasing and challenge.
You frowned, coming to a stop in front of him. “I should be going with you,” you said bluntly, your hands flexing at your sides. “This strategy was mine as much as anyone's. Yet here I am, stuck in the capital while you fly off to handle things.”
Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to enjoy the council meetings, nephew. Perhaps court life is growing on you after all.”
You shot him a glare, but Daemon only laughed, clearly enjoying your irritation. “It’s not a matter of enjoying it. I’ve fought in Dorne, I know the terrain, the people. I should be there with you.”
Daemon’s smirk faded slightly as he regarded you more seriously. “You’ve already done your duty in Dorne, Y/N. The realm can’t afford to lose its heir over another skirmish. That’s why Viserys wants you here. Someone has to keep the peace while I make sure the Stepstones don’t fall into chaos.”
You clenched your jaw, unwilling to let the matter rest. “I’m not made for sitting idly by, Daemon. I should be out there, doing what I do best.”
Daemon’s expression shifted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something close to understanding in his eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Believe me, I know how it feels to be sidelined, to be told that you’re too valuable to risk. But you have something bigger to worry about. You’re the heir to the Iron Throne. If you fall, if something happens to you, Viserys loses everything.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but Daemon cut you off with a knowing look. “I’ve fought in more wars than I care to count, and I’ve seen men die for less. But this—what you and I are dealing with now—this is about the long game. You’ll get your chance to fight again, trust me. But for now, the capital needs you. Viserys needs you.”
You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. As much as you hated to admit it, Daemon was right. Your place, as frustrating as it was, was here in King’s Landing, keeping the peace and preparing for the future. The realm needed stability, and as much as you longed to be out in the field, your father had made it clear that your role as heir took precedence.
Daemon clapped a hand on your shoulder, his usual cocky grin returning. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Otto while I’m gone. Can’t trust him to keep his hands clean without us watching.”
You smirked despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’d rather see me fight in council chambers than on the battlefield?”
“If you can survive a meeting with Hightower without strangling him, I’d say you’ve already won a battle,” Daemon quipped. He moved past you toward Caraxes, his dragon shifting eagerly as his rider approached.
As Daemon mounted the blood-red dragon, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, nephew. I’ll make sure the Stepstones stay under control. You just keep things from falling apart here.”
With that, Daemon urged Caraxes into the air, the dragon’s powerful wings beating against the wind as they lifted into the sky. You watched them go, the weight of your frustration still heavy in your chest, though tempered by the reminder of your responsibility. You knew Daemon was right, but the desire to join him still burned in your veins.
As Caraxes disappeared into the clouds, you turned away, your mind already shifting back to the politics of the capital. There was no escaping the duties that awaited you, no matter how much you longed for the freedom of the battlefield. For now, the capital would be your battleground, and courtly intrigue your sword.
You could only hope it was enough to keep you sane until you could fly into battle again.
The afternoon sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in a soft, golden glow. The air was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, bringing with it the faint scent of roses and lavender. Rhaenyra sat on a cushioned bench beneath one of the larger trees, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were engaged in quiet conversation. Beside her, Alicent sat with her usual poise, though the tension between them was palpable despite the pleasant setting.
Since their argument a few days ago, the two friends had yet to fully resolve the unspoken rift between them. They had, for now, put their differences aside, but there was an underlying awkwardness that neither seemed eager to address directly. Rhaenyra, for her part, felt torn between her loyalty to Alicent and the possessive protectiveness she now felt toward her brother. Every time she looked at Alicent, she could feel the jealousy simmering beneath the surface, though she did her best to hide it.
Still, today, Rhaenyra felt lighter, happier. It had been a few days since her last encounter with her brother, and the memory of their shared kiss, their stolen moments of intimacy, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had missed him terribly in the years he had spent in Dorne, but now that he was back, she felt whole again—more than whole, even. There was a secret between them now, something precious and exhilarating that only they shared. It was a feeling that made her heart race and her thoughts drift to places she dared not speak aloud.
Alicent, always attuned to her friend’s moods, noticed the change in Rhaenyra almost immediately. She had observed over the past few days how Rhaenyra seemed… different. There was a lightness in her demeanor, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there before. Despite their recent argument, Alicent couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern.
“You seem happier these days, Rhaenyra,” Alicent remarked, her tone casual, though her eyes searched Rhaenyra’s face for any hint of what might have caused this change. “More at ease than you were a week ago.”
Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her expression neutral for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose I am,” she admitted, leaning back against the bench, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her gown. “It’s good to have my brother home again. I had forgotten how much I missed him.”
Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something Rhaenyra didn’t miss. “He has been a calming presence for all of us, I think,” Alicent said softly. “The court feels… steadier with him back.”
Rhaenyra nodded, though her mind wandered to thoughts that had little to do with the politics of the court. Her happiness, her newfound sense of ease, had little to do with the stability of King’s Landing and everything to do with the intimate moments she had shared with her brother. The kiss they had stolen, the way his hands had moved over her body, the way they had whispered to each other in the quiet of the night—it filled her with a secret kind of joy that made her pulse quicken just thinking about it.
But she couldn’t tell Alicent that, of course. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she held close to her heart, something that belonged to her and her brother alone. And yet, as she sat there in the garden, surrounded by her handmaidens and her friend, Rhaenyra felt the weight of that secret pressing down on her, urging her to protect it at all costs.
Alicent’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone soft, almost wistful. “You’ve always been so strong, Rhaenyra, but… there’s a lightness about you now that I haven’t seen in a long time.”
Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her smile widening slightly. “Perhaps it’s because I’m no longer alone,” she replied, though her words held a double meaning that Alicent could not have understood. “It’s been… good to have him near. To be reminded of how much he means to me.”
Alicent nodded, though Rhaenyra could sense the unspoken tension between them. The argument they had about her brother still lingered in the background, and while they had put it aside for now, Rhaenyra knew that it had changed something between them. Alicent had always been loyal, always supportive, but there was no denying that her interest in [Your Name] had stoked Rhaenyra’s possessiveness.
“I spoke to my father recently,” Alicent said after a moment, her tone more subdued now. “He mentioned how important it is for your brother to find a suitable match. I imagine the court will soon begin pressuring him.”
Rhaenyra’s smile faltered slightly at that, her heart tightening at the thought of her brother being married off to some noble lady for the sake of alliances. She knew his duty as heir, just as she knew her own, but the idea of sharing him with anyone else made her blood run cold.
“I’m sure the court has its plans,” Rhaenyra replied carefully, her tone measured. “But my brother has never been one to let others decide his fate for him.”
Alicent glanced at Rhaenyra, a knowing look in her eyes. “Perhaps not. But you know as well as I do that duty often outweighs personal desires in our world. Your brother will have to marry eventually.”
Rhaenyra clenched her jaw slightly, trying to keep her voice calm. “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean he will let them choose for him.”
A silence fell between them, the tension from their previous argument rearing its head once more. Alicent, ever observant, seemed to sense the shift in Rhaenyra’s mood and quickly changed the subject, offering a soft smile. “Regardless, it’s good to see you happy, Rhaenyra. You deserve it.”
Rhaenyra returned the smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Internally, she was still reeling from the conversation, her mind racing with thoughts of her brother and the future that seemed so uncertain. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they had shared. And though she knew the court would try to force his hand, she was determined to protect what they had.
As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the handmaidens began to gather their things, preparing to leave the gardens. Rhaenyra stood, her mind still swirling with the weight of her secret and the unspoken tension between her and Alicent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her brother’s return had changed everything—not just for her, but for the future of the realm.
The darkness surrounded you, thick and suffocating. You knew you were dreaming, yet the world felt all too real, pulling you back to the brutal, violent past you had tried so hard to leave behind. The scent of blood and smoke filled your nostrils, the familiar roar of battle echoing in your ears.
You were back on the Dornish border, where the sun beat down mercilessly on the rocky landscape, turning the sand beneath your feet into a blinding sea of heat. But the heat wasn’t what bothered you. It was the blood, the endless blood that stained the ground, your armor, your hands.
Before you, Silverwing loomed, her massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. Her scales glimmered in the sunlight, a majestic and terrifying sight as she snarled, her jaws open wide, ready to unleash hell upon your enemies.
The clash of swords, the cries of dying men, and the acrid scent of burning flesh assaulted your senses as you gripped the reins, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been here before, so many times. Leading men into battle, commanding them, killing for the crown. But this time, it felt different. More vivid. More terrifying.
Dornish soldiers surged forward, their spears glinting in the sun, their faces twisted with rage and desperation. You shouted orders to your men, your voice hoarse from the strain of command, but your words seemed to be lost in the chaos around you. The Dornish were relentless, their numbers overwhelming, and despite the strength of your forces, you could feel the tide turning.
With a roar, Silverwing reared up, her wings beating against the air with enough force to send men stumbling backward. You felt the bond between you and your dragon pulse through your veins as you urged her forward. With a deafening screech, Silverwing descended upon the enemy, her massive jaws snapping shut around a group of Dornish soldiers.
Blood sprayed across the battlefield as Silverwing bit down, her powerful teeth tearing through armor, flesh, and bone with sickening ease. The sound of the men’s screams was lost beneath the thunderous roar of the dragonfire that erupted from her mouth, incinerating everything in its path. Soldiers who had been advancing toward you moments before were now nothing more than charred corpses, their bodies reduced to ash.
You watched, horrified, as Silverwing tore into another group of soldiers, her claws ripping them apart with savage efficiency. Blood splattered across the sand, pooling in thick, dark puddles that soaked into the earth. Limbs were torn from bodies, men reduced to nothing more than broken pieces of flesh and bone, and still, the Dornish kept coming.
The heat of the dragonfire was unbearable, searing your skin even from where you sat atop Silverwing. The stench of burning flesh filled your lungs, choking you, but there was no time to think, no time to feel anything but the cold, brutal instinct to survive. You spurred Silverwing forward, her massive body plowing through the enemy lines, scattering men like leaves in the wind.
But it wasn’t enough. No matter how many men Silverwing killed, no matter how many bodies littered the ground, the Dornish soldiers kept coming, their faces twisted with hatred, their eyes filled with the desire to see you dead. You felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in your chest as the enemy began to close in around you.
Suddenly, one of the Dornish soldiers broke through the chaos, his spear aimed directly at you. You had only a split second to react, but it wasn’t fast enough. The spear pierced your side, the sharp pain exploding through your body as the world spun around you. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky against your skin, but you barely had time to register the pain before another soldier was upon you, his sword raised high.
Silverwing roared in fury, her massive jaws snapping shut around the soldier, crushing him with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across your face as the man’s body was ripped apart in Silverwing’s teeth, his screams cut short as his skull was crushed like an eggshell.
The battlefield was a nightmare of blood, fire, and death. Everywhere you looked, there were bodies—some charred beyond recognition, others torn apart by dragonfire and claws. The ground was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of death. You felt the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating you.
You tried to command Silverwing, to take control of the chaos, but your voice wouldn’t come. The pain from the spear wound throbbed in time with your heartbeat, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurred, the world around you spinning as you fought to stay conscious. But even through the haze of pain, you could still see the carnage—Silverwing tearing through men like they were nothing more than playthings, their bodies breaking and burning beneath her fury.
You were losing control, and you knew it. The battle was slipping away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
And then, suddenly, you were falling. The reins slipped from your fingers, your body tipping forward as the ground rushed up to meet you. You hit the sand with a bone-jarring thud, the impact driving the air from your lungs. The world went black for a moment, the sounds of the battlefield fading into nothing.
When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you saw was blood—so much blood, pooling around you, soaking into the sand. Your own blood. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but your body wouldn’t respond. You were trapped, helpless, watching as the battle raged on around you.
Silverwing roared somewhere in the distance, her voice filled with rage and pain. You could feel her, feel her fury, her desperation to protect you. But you were powerless to help her, powerless to stop the nightmare unfolding before your eyes.
The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the sight of Silverwing, her jaws clamped down on another group of Dornish soldiers, their bodies breaking apart like twigs beneath her crushing teeth. The blood sprayed across the battlefield, the screams of the dying filling your ears.
And then, there was nothing.
You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest, your body drenched in sweat. The room around you was quiet, the familiar walls of your chambers in the Red Keep reassuring you that you were no longer on the battlefield. But the images of the nightmare lingered—Silverwing’s fury, the blood, the death.
You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you. It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. Just a dream. But deep down, you knew that it was more than that. It was a memory—a memory of the horrors you had witnessed, the lives you had taken, and the toll it had taken on your soul.
No matter how far you ran from it, the blood and fire of Dorne would always haunt you.
The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Red Keep as you walked alongside your father through the expansive gardens of the palace. King Viserys had been spending more time with you in the past months since your return from Dorne, and today was no different. He seemed eager, almost desperate at times, to enjoy moments of quiet between the demands of his reign.
You had always admired your father’s ability to maintain a sense of peace amidst the political storms that often raged around him. But lately, something had shifted. As the days passed, you found yourself becoming more aware of the subtle signs of wear and tear that the Iron Throne had wrought upon him.
As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in your father’s hand. It was barely perceptible, but you had spent enough time in his company recently to know that it wasn’t just a passing weakness. Your brows furrowed in concern, and you finally spoke up, your voice quiet but laced with worry.
“Father,” you began, glancing at his hand, “are you feeling well?”
Viserys looked at you, startled by the question at first, but then smiled in that familiar way of his, as if trying to reassure you of something he could no longer be certain of himself. He flexed his hand slightly, noticing your gaze.
“I’m fine, truly,” he said, though his tone was too quick, too eager to dismiss your concerns. “It’s nothing but an old man’s ache. The last cut I suffered from sitting the throne seemed to have gone deeper than usual… into the muscle, I think. It must have caused the tremble.”
You frowned, stopping for a moment to face him fully. “The Iron Throne should not wound the king, Father. I fear it has done more harm than you’re letting on.”
Viserys waved a hand, brushing off your concern. “The throne is sharp and unforgiving, yes, but I’ve sat upon it for years. It’s nothing more than an old man’s ailment. Nothing for you to worry about.”
But you couldn’t let go of the unease that gnawed at you. You had heard the stories, how the throne only cut those who were unworthy, how its jagged edges served as a constant reminder of the heavy price of rule. And now, seeing your father—the once strong, vibrant man who had ruled the realm with a steady hand—reduced to such a state, it made you wonder if the cost of the throne was truly worth it.
You glanced down at your father’s hand again, the faint tremor still there. Silent for a moment, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest as you considered the prospect that one day, the Iron Throne would be yours. It was a thought you had pushed aside for years, choosing instead to focus on your duties as a warrior, a protector of the realm. But now, standing here beside your father, the reality of it felt closer than ever.
“Is it worth it, Father?” you asked quietly, almost to yourself, though the question lingered in the air between you.
Viserys looked at you sharply, his expression softening after a beat as he realized the weight behind your words. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as if burdened by more than just the crown. “Is it worth it…” he repeated softly, his gaze distant as he looked out at the gardens. “The Iron Throne… it is a heavy burden, my son. There is no denying that. But we don’t take the throne because it is easy, or because it is what we wish for ourselves.”
He turned to face you, his eyes tired but full of the wisdom of years spent ruling. “We take the throne because it is our duty. Our legacy. We are Targaryens, and the realm looks to us for leadership, for stability. That is worth more than the cost.”
You remained silent for a moment, pondering his words. The duty of being heir to the throne had always been something you accepted but never truly embraced. You had spent years on the battlefield, finding comfort in the clarity of combat, where there were no endless whispers of court intrigue or delicate balance of politics. But ruling… ruling was something different. It required sacrifice, constant vigilance, and endless compromise. And it required you to sit upon that cursed throne, the one that had already begun to cut into your father’s flesh.
“I understand the duty,” you said after a moment, your voice measured, “but I can’t help but feel that ruling is more than just doing what is expected of us. You’ve always been able to manage the demands of the crown, but I fear I lack your patience. I don’t know if I can find that balance.”
Viserys smiled gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re more like me than you think, Y/N, though I know you’ve never desired court life. You’ve always been happiest on the battlefield, away from the games of politics. But ruling is its own kind of battle. And, just like on the battlefield, you must find the right strategy.”
You chuckled lightly, though the weight of his words didn’t escape you. “I’ve always preferred the battlefield, where at least I know who my enemies are.”
“That’s the trick,” Viserys said, his smile widening. “In court, they may not hold swords, but the battles are just as dangerous. And the price of losing is far greater.”
You nodded, understanding what he was saying. The thought of navigating the intricacies of the court, of having to make decisions that could affect the entire realm, filled you with a sense of dread. But this was the reality of your position. One day, the crown would pass to you, whether you were ready for it or not.
Viserys seemed to sense your unease and gently changed the subject, steering the conversation away from the future you both knew was inevitable. “Have you been adjusting well since your return? I know the transition from the battlefield to the court isn’t an easy one.”
You sighed, glancing around the garden before looking back at your father. “It’s… an adjustment. I’ve managed, somehow, though it’s been difficult to find my footing. Everything here feels slower, more drawn out. There’s no sense of urgency like there is in battle.”
Viserys nodded thoughtfully. “Court life can feel stifling at times, I’ll admit. It isn’t what you imagined for yourself, I’m sure.”
You gave a small, humorless laugh. “No, it isn’t. But I’ve accepted my place. I know what’s expected of me.”
Viserys squeezed your shoulder gently, his expression softening with affection. “I know, my son. And I also know that this is not the life you would have chosen for yourself. You’ve always been a warrior, someone who thrives in action. But a good king finds balance. He learns to fight the battles that can’t be won with a sword.”
You glanced at your father, seeing the weight of years of rule etched into his face. His words, though meant to reassure you, only served to remind you of the impossible burden that awaited you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever find that balance he spoke of—if you could ever be the ruler your father believed you could be.
As you walked together in the garden, your mind drifted back to the Iron Throne, to the cuts it had already inflicted on your father. The price of rule was steep, and as much as you tried to push the thought aside, you knew that one day, that same burden would fall upon you.
But for now, you would follow your father’s guidance, learn what you could, and prepare for the day when the realm would look to you to sit upon the throne that demanded blood as its price.
The evening was late, and the Red Keep had settled into a quiet stillness, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight and the distant echo of footsteps from the night’s watchmen to break the silence. It was during these hours that you found your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers, as had become your clandestine routine. Your secret meetings, hidden from the prying eyes of the court, were the only times you both could truly be together—free from the weight of duty and expectation.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting long shadows across the walls. You could hear the gentle rustling of the curtains as the evening breeze slipped through the cracks of the window. But none of that mattered. The moment you entered, your attention was solely on her—Rhaenyra, lying in wait on the bed, her eyes bright with the same fire that had been between you since your first kiss.
Without a word, you crossed the room and claimed her lips in a feverish kiss, your hands cradling her face as you pressed her down into the softness of the mattress. The world outside, the pressures of the throne, the burdens you carried as the heir to the realm—all of it disappeared in her presence. Here, in the dark, it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.
Your body moved instinctively, pressing closer to hers, the thin layers of clothing between you both doing little to contain the heat of your shared desire. Rhaenyra responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, her breath coming faster with each kiss. You could feel her heart beating in time with your own, the intensity of the moment building as your hands roamed over her body.
She broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with the same fierce affection and need that mirrored your own. "I missed you," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with the weight of truth.
You smiled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "I’m here now," you whispered back before capturing her lips once more, your kisses growing deeper, more urgent.
As you pressed her further into the bed, her hands moved down, her fingers grazing the waistband of your trousers before slipping inside. The sensation made you groan into the kiss, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She worked with practiced ease, her hand moving slowly as she freed your manhood from the confines of your clothing.
The moment her fingers wrapped around you, the world seemed to narrow to the sensation alone. Your groan deepened, your forehead resting against hers as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The heat between you both was nearly unbearable, the need to be closer, to feel her entirely, overwhelming every other thought in your mind.
"Rhaenyra," you breathed against her lips, your voice hoarse with desire.
She smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and kissed you again, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate work. The pressure built quickly, your body responding to her touch with an intensity you couldn’t control. Her thumb brushed against you in just the right way, and with a final shudder, you felt the release you had been so desperately chasing.
You groaned against her lips, your body trembling as you spilled yourself onto her thigh, the tension that had been building finally giving way to sweet relief. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your forehead still pressed to hers as you tried to regain your composure.
Rhaenyra smiled at you, her expression one of both satisfaction and tenderness. She brought your face back to hers for another kiss, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. Her fingers trailed through your hair as she pressed closer to you, the warmth of her body a comfort in the quiet aftermath.
You opened your eyes, your heart still racing, and kissed her forehead gently. "It’s my turn," you whispered against her skin, your voice filled with both affection and desire. "To return the favor."
Rhaenyra’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as you began trailing kisses down her jawline, your lips brushing against her neck, lingering there as you felt the pulse of her heartbeat beneath your lips. She sighed softly, her hands gently pulling at your shoulders as you moved lower, your mouth tracing a path along her collarbone, then down her chest.
Your kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as you moved further down her body, your lips brushing against her stomach, feeling the soft curve of her skin beneath your fingertips. Every touch seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from her, her body relaxing beneath you as she surrendered to the sensations you were creating.
When your kisses reached her womanhood, her breath hitched, and a low moan escaped her lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she arched slightly beneath you. You felt the heat of her, tasted the subtle sweetness of her skin, and your only thought was to please her, to give her the same release she had given you.
Rhaenyra’s soft moans filled the room, her fingers tightening in your hair as you continued your ministrations, her body trembling with every kiss, every touch. The sounds of her pleasure only spurred you on, the bond between you deepening with each passing second, each shared breath.
As you looked up at her, seeing the way her eyes fluttered closed in pure satisfaction, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. There was no one else in the world who could make you feel the way she did—no one else who could understand the depth of your connection. And in that moment, you knew that nothing, not even the demands of the court, could take this from you.
This was yours. She was yours. And for now, in the quiet intimacy of the night, that was all that mattered.
#house of the dragon#hotd x y/n#hotd x male reader#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd rhaenyra#rhaenyra x y/n#rhaenyra x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra x you#rhaenyra x male reader
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