#and the targaryen omelettes

[wodania]

Toasting at Aerion’s funeral was considered to be in very poor taste.

Loosely based off of my aerion funeral post

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Princess of Dragonstone, Chapter 2

Concept: Daella's is rhaenyras daugther and now aemonds prisoner. First fanfic and not edited very well.

Aemond and aegon levels are mild.

WARNINGS: Abuse, cursing, powerabuse, kidnapping, and implied non-con as well as references to r*pe.

He drags me outside. It finally stopped raining. 'So angry, Lady Strong. Is it because I killed your favourite bastard brother or is it because I hold your future in my hands?' He walks me to his dragon. Or drags me with him. He walks much faster then i do. He always does.

Finally, i spit in his face. Snapping. I've had enough of him. Aemond is furious and slaps me in return in my face. Its not the hardest slap I've had but I'll admit that it stings. 'Do that again, and I'll make sure you ever would dare to think insults of me. Am I clear, Lady Strong?' He places me in front of him, on the dragon.

'I never rode Vhagar with a extra rider. You should feel honered.' He says, sweetly. My eyes roll.

'I imagine you never rode anything except your dragon.' I coldy and childishly remark. Its a low insult but its all i have left.

He laughs. The fucker. He laughs. 'Tsk tsk. I hold your life in my hands, Lady Strong. Best keep that little bastard mouth of yours under control or else you will suffer the consequences.' I huff. I am not scared of him.

He gives Vhagar a command and the dragon slowly starts to prepare itself for flying. 'Now quiet, or I'll cutt out your tongue the way your bastard brothers took my eye.'

--- Kings landing isn't that far from Storm's end. Not when you have Vhagar. The biggest and grumpiest dragon of all. Aemond Targaryen is a terrible dragon rider. Or maybe its because i am laying upside down but i spend most of my time caughing and puking.

I can't bloody wait until i have soil under my feet again. Dyaxis is smaller than Vhagar in size but at least Dyaxis knows to calm it down. Aemond keeps pushing Vhagar for more and more and i need to remind him sometimes with a kick that he needs to slow it down or I'll end up as a very unhappy omelette.

When we finally reach the hell that is king's landing, i am grateful we fly too high to be seen. I don't want anyone seeing me this way, like a tapestry hanging over Aemond Targaryen's dragon.

Aemond lands gracefully in the dragon garden. He first gets off himself, so he can use a simple command to get vhagar to lie down. 'You really thought this trough, hmm?' I remark coldly from the giantic beast.

Aemond says something but i cant hear it. Vhagar simply refuses him. The dragon looks at the prince but refuses to bow. After a while, she huffs and finally plops down nearly causing me to fall off and to break my neck.

Aemond catches me before that happens, thank Gods. 'Put me down, Kinslayer.' I say the moment the beast has calmed down.

He groans annoyed with my priorities. Maybe I am also ruining some sort of twisted fantasy. 'I just saved your life.' We pass by Vhagars gigantic head. The Dragon left big eye follows me, very carefully. I feel very unsafe by her.

Aemond chuckles as he puts me down on the grass. 'She doesn't like you. I can tell when she despises people.' I eye quickly for a escape but i already know there is none. My hands are still tied. I need a knife to free myself.

She must be jealous. Don't worry Vhagar.' He says, in High Valyrian. He affectionately pets her and Vhagar makes a wailing sound. I can't believe this.

I roll my eyes at her dramatics. Aemond falls for it, of course. 'Just because i have a new object to ride doesn't mean we won't be seeing each other, yes? I still love you, very much. You know that. Now who's the best dragon-' she nuzzels him and he pets her on her head. He gets a lick in his face as well.

Thats when i interrupt. 'As much as I love to see that you finally found a friend, Aemond, Get the hell on with it. I'm cold and starving and i want to go home.' I say.

'Didn't your septa teach you that patience is a virtue?' He smirks.

'Didn't yours tell you that killing your own blood isnt a virtue?' I minic his ridiculous smile.

I walk with Aemond, leashed like his fucking dog, to the carriage. 'Mother has a fun saying about septas. Do you want to hear it?' Aemond looks at me, full of expectations. I wont make a show of my resist for him. I will go with dignity like a princess.

'Fuck the septa.' I say, grinning.

Aemond frowns. 'That's...Not funny at all, Lady Strong.'

'Yes it is. You just dont have humor.' Simple as that.

'I have plenty, this simply is a insult. Not a very good one, i might add.' Everything is an battle with him.

'Alright, Kinslayer let's just get on with it. I've spend enough time in your company.'

The Redkeep is still standing. But there is nothing red about it anymore. Its now Green. The headquarters of the greens.

The guards fetch me right away. 'Ser Deston. Ser Ferz. It's me, princess Daella.' Then, i can't really help it, i puke one final time.

They don't even try to help me.

Aemond looks on as i try to flee with every guard out there. They all look at me like I'm something disgusting.

Speaking of disgusting...Otto hightower is also present. 'Aemond. A word?' Just the sight of him makes me so angry.

He sounds upset. Angry. Furious with Aemond. 'Ooh, someone's in trouble.' I whisper to Aemond.

'One moment, Grandfather. I am not leaving with my pet unpunished.' He takes me by the arm and tries to show off how he controls me. He makes his hand flat and i already close my eyes.

Otto interrupts. 'She is not your pet, she will be our pawn. She will be traded. Let go of your childish feelings. I already have one raper as grandson. Don't insult me by making it two.'

Sir Criston looks on. 'Why am I not suprised? You never liked mother. She handed you everything. You were a nobody, a bastard born son.' I spat at him.

'Aemond does the same for you, if you suck his cock. Yet you aren't grateful either, are you?'

They drag me inside the red keep. Aemond does so, eagerly to show his family what he captured.

-- Aegon looks like he aged two decades during the few days he is sitting the throne. Criston forces me to kneel for the usurper. 'Princess Daella, your grace.'

'Well, well, well. Look what my brother dragged in. Some things never change do they?' The fuck is he talking about?

'We should treat the princess carefully. Rhaenyra might want to trade her claim for her.' Says former queen Alicent.

Her father disagrees. 'Would she really? She is just a daughter. Everyone knows Rhaenyra is more attached to her sons. If we had Jace or Luke-' Aemond subtly swallows.

I smirk at him. He has informed them proudly of his conquest. Of me. But he hasn't told them what he did to Lucerys. 'I have some news, that might buy me my freedom.' I announce. Before i can utter a word, Aemond covers my mouth.

'I killed Lucerys.' He shouts. His words echo through the chamber and the reactions of his family are priceless.

His mother clutches her necklace and starts praying. Haleana, the queen doesn't even seem to be here at all, and Otto curses him for being so blind despite only having lost one eye.

'This is a victory. Lucerys was a cunt. Now, tell me brother...'Aegon eyes are cold. 'You want her, brother?'

I hear my own heart beating fast. 'I do what you seem fit, my king.' Is Aemonds response. How chivalrous.

'I didn't ask that. Do you want the girl? Do you want to fuck her?' Aegon barks at his brother.

'Yes.' The word comes out slowly but possessively. Like he can already feel his hands on my skin and his tongue down my mouth.

He smiles at Aemond. 'For bringing me this dangerous traitor I'll reward you generously. She is yours, to with as you please. Her body, names, titels and holdings are yours, Aemond Targaryen.'

Otto nearly rips out his own hair. 'Aegon! Don't be stupid. She will be worth a lot if we trade her-' And just a minute ago i was worthless?

'Adress me like that again and I'll send you back to that pisshole you came from, Grandfather.' He takes another sip of his drink.

Aemond smiles coldly as i finally hit the walls. 'Thank you, for this generous gift my king.' To me he whispers something as well. 'You're mine now, Lady Strong.'

'One thing, Aemond.' He says before letting us leave.

'Yes, my king?'

Aegon looks at me and he is back to being the king. 'Neutralize her. Make sure she can't be used as a weapon against us.'

Aemond slowly smiles.'Of course, my king. I already have something thought out.'

Aegon mirrors his diabolical expression. 'I figured you would.'

[kingsansa]

how does socialite au jon handle this jealousy? is he self aware enough to understand (hopefully since he's older but)? is he rude bc he's so brooding~, or is he trying to get back into her circle and good graces

—A preview of In Good Faith, the modern arranged marriage socialite fic:

The Sunday edition of the Westerosi Chronicle is about a quarter of an inch thicker than its weekday counterpart.

Connington brings it in from the driveway every morning before breakfast.

Jon waits until his coffee is ready to start reading.

CITY ON THE BRINK OF WAR. Stannis Baratheon on the front page in black and white ink, holding a press conference. FORMER DA INDICTED ON CORRUPTION CHARGES. Janos Slynt, looking pathetically small and frightful, being dragged out of the courthouse. TARGARYEN FOUNDATION BRINGS NEW HOPE. Daenerys at the Charity for Children benefit, hand cupped graciously as she waved to vultures. Smile blinding. She was always better at that sort of stuff than him. His father’s real protege. He pretends to linger on this as to prolong the inevitable. Another turned page. The sight of the lifestyle section.

Of her.

In black and white, her head dipped low against the glare of the cameras. Hand tucked into his. Her hair shields her where he does not, walking slightly ahead. Protective. Ever the gentleman.

In a forest green gown of silk, Winterfell’s daughter and ballet bombshell Sansa Stark stuns at the Fireman’s Ball on the arm of Tyrell Chemical heir: Willas Tyrell.

It was no different than it had been the sunday before that, and the sunday before that. A saccharine blurb, trilling on about her dress and the man on her arm. Society fixture Willas Tyrell. Esteemed doctor Willas Tyrell. Westerosi Bachelor Willas Tyrell. Different epithets but all equally as flattering, most likely courtesy of Alerie or Olenna Tyrell. Accompanied with a picture of the lovely couple sharing a dance. Eating strawberry ice cream as they walked on the beach. Holding hands on a carriage ride around the park.

Jon used to take her for carriage rides around the park.

Connington sets his plate down. It gives him an excuse to fold the paper back up. He sets it aside. He won’t pick it back up again.

Jon is cutting into his omelette. Connington is still standing in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. He pretends not to notice.

“I could stop bringing it in.” Connington says. “If that’s what would be best.”

Would it? The question is silent, a ghost as much as his father is, still sitting at the head of this table. But it’s also a question he’s taken it upon himself to answer. There’s a reason why the papers always manage to disappear from his desk, never to be seen again. A reason why he always hesitates before handing it to him.

Jon sets his fork and knife down.

“I’d like some orange juice,” He says, as if Connington had never spoken. “Please.”

Connington does what he’s told, without a sigh or a lingering glance.

Jon nearly looks at the head of the table, before turning his gaze back to his plate. He doesn’t know why it still manages to surprise him that it’s empty.