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flowerandblood · 1 month

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The Price of Pride (6/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, mutual masturbation, infidelity, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Never before had the wooden ceiling of a bed seemed so interesting to her.

The Maester was trying to be gentle and his touch was respectful – she knew that, but still what he was doing, the fact that there were other people around behind the cream curtains made her tense, even though she knew the verdict would be one.

When the examination was finally completed she sighed quietly and swallowed hard, rising on her elbow – she lowered her skirt down thinking she wouldn't give them the satisfaction and cry – Maester's voice and what he said was like honey to her ears.

"She is a maiden, My King. I have no doubt."

A moment later, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing with a loud slam.

Prince Aemond gave everyone an expression of his fury at this obviously unfounded accusation.

She took a quiet breath as someone pulled aside one of the veils – the king's face seemed satisfied, as if not the end result but the fact that he had once again shown his brother who had the last word was his reward.

"I am relieved, dear cousin, that you have come to no harm under my brother's care. I hope you understand that in no way did I mean to offend you or undermine your virtue." He said lightly, knowing that she could not reply anything other than to confirm his certainly sincere and good intentions.

"I am grateful to you for your concern, Your Grace." She replied, looking him straight in the eye, to her surprise feeling neither bitterness nor regret.

This would at least cut off any further gossip about her and the tongue of the servant who had given her pleasure that day, as promised by the prince.

She guessed he would not leave it at that.

"I wish to see your dragon and judge for myself the value he will bring to the upcoming battles. I also want him to stay in the Dragon's Pit with the rest of the dragons and not with Vhagar." He said, and she nodded, knowing that there was no point in standing up.

This brother or another, what difference did it make.

"He is still wild and untamed, my King. Accustomed to freedom. I fear that sudden confinement may kill his spirit." She replied softly.

Aegon nodded.

"I may yet change my decision. For now, I want to see him."

In accordance with his desire, he, she and a retinue consisting of several members of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston Cole, set off on horseback to Vhagar's lair where the two dragons rested.

When they arrived, she felt joy, or rather a new kind of it, one she had experienced for the first time when she saw Sheepstealer.

Her dragon squawked happily at the sight of her, coming quickly up to her on his paws, watching her from all sides, intrigued, paying no attention to the other newcomers.

He was as sweet as a baby, she thought with tenderness, lonely for long years, craving tenderness, understanding and attention as much as she did.

He was everything she was, which is why the moment she first looked into his eyes she knew she would succeed in taming him.

She knew what he needed and she was able to give it to him, and he reciprocated.

Her dragon was the only man she needed.

"Magnificent. Fierce. And large indeed. Bigger than Sunfyre. Very well." Exclaimed the King with a smile, clearly pleased and reassured.

When his brother was not next to him he felt in control of the situation again.

She stroked the muzzle of her dragon, for some reason also smiling, its scales under her skin hard and rough.

"We are at your service, my King." She replied, wanting to be sure they would leave her alone.

She just wanted to be close to her dragon, nothing more.

"Good. You and my brother will take turns patrolling the sky daily. This will relieve the burden on Vhagar and allow the prince to attend to other, equally important matters." He said, and she nodded.

"Present our subjects with our new dragon. Show them that we are stronger than ever." He commanded, and she held back the smile of amusement that pressed across her face.

Is that so?

Outside? Maybe.

But inside, they were one rotten fruit.

"My King."

Flying over King's Landing was a kind of liberation for her – she felt she was showing not only the world what she had become, but more importantly her father.

She hoped, feeling the wind in her hair, whirling on the Sheepstealer in the skies with laughter, that Daemon was throwing his cups in Dragonstone out of rage, cursing the day she was born.

Although she hated her heritage and her name, it was the dragon that saved her and gave her life meaning.

It felt like they understood each other without words, that one move of hers was enough to make him change his flight course to where she wanted or dive down.

Once they landed, she always spent a bit of time with him, lying on the grass beside him, stroking his muzzle – she wanted him to know that he wasn't just her tool that she used.

No.

She felt something completely different that filled her heart wonderfully.

Love.

Looking out of the corner of her eye at Vhagar lying in the distance, plunged into a deep sleep, completely ignoring them, she wondered if these were the feelings that Prince Aemond had for his dragoness.

You should fall to your knees before her, you fucking whore, not laugh.

This was not an expression of his pride then.

It was an expression of his deep affection for her.

She smiled at this thought, recognising that at last she understood him.

Her expression was gentle and contented when, walking down the corridor of the Red Keep with a guard who did not leave her side, she came across him, apparently heading for Vhagar's liege.

"Where have you been?" He asked disturbed, seeing her riding attire.

She sighed quietly, pulling her black leather gloves from her hands.

"The King ordered that we take turns patrolling the skies. I have done that duty today. You may rest." She said, and he swallowed hard, something expression in his face as if he felt discomfort.

Another thing he was taking away from him, she thought.

"Leave us." He directed his cold words to the guard. He nodded and walked away with the quiet clang of his steel armour.

The prince moved away towards the cloisters, and she moved with him.

He didn't want anyone to hear their conversation.

"What did you say to him?" He asked, looking sideways, as if he couldn't bear to see her.

"To whom?"

"To my brother. Did you betray me?" He asked coldly, throwing her a drawn-out, stern look.

She sighed heavily and shook her head, closing her eyes, tired after the physical exertion, not having the strength for his baseless accusations.

"How?" She asked, his jaw clenched, his body upright and tense.

"Don't play a fucking fool. You know perfectly well what I'm referring to."

She laughed at his words, shrugging her shoulders, bringing him to the brink of fury.

She could see it in his wide-open eye, in his feral, furious gaze.

"I know, but I haven't told him anything and I won't. It's not in my nature to complicate a situation where I'm comfortable. Being your enemy is not my desire. The lack of your unity drastically reduces my chances of survival, and having tamed the dragon, its value in my eyes has increased greatly." She said lightly, looking him straight in the eye, seeing that his hands entwined behind his back were clenched into fists.

He hated it when she spoke to him like that, but he couldn't do anything to her in public.

"I also wish for you to continue to teach me the language of Old Valyria. In return, I will report to you on what I am asked and what the King tells me to soothe your troubled soul." She hummed with a smile, watching with satisfaction as he drew in a loud breath and licked his lower lip, apparently trying not to use his hands on her long neck.

"Do we have an agreement, my Prince?" She asked, cocking her head.

He sighed, glancing sideways, and shook his head, clearly not believing that he had consented to such humiliation.

"In the library. Every day, right after supper."

She learned of Lady Floris Baratheon's arrival in the Red Keep from her maid – braiding some of her hair at the back of her head, she told her of what she had seen.

"Lady Floris arrived in a brown gown embroidered with gold thread. Her hair is black and long, pinned up in a braid, smoothed down in front, her forehead high, her gaze proud and solemn. Her smile, in my opinion, has no lightness or conviction." Said Lysa, and she giggled under her breath, looking at her and herself in the reflection of the mirror.

"What a harsh judgement. Perhaps it was that smile that the prince found so charming that he chose her." She replied lightly, thinking with amusement that her cousin was surely writhing in agony right now, entertaining his betrothed.

Good, she thought.

Let him suffer.

"Perhaps, however, the memory of that day must spend his sleep." Said Lysa, gracefully weaving one of her strands in with the rest of her hairstyle.

She blinked, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

Lysa looked at her surprised, as if snapped out of her reverie.

"Don't you know, my Lady? It was on this day that Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys. That poor boy. His mother searched for his remains in madness and despair, but apparently there was nothing left of him but his cloak. He was devoured by Vhagar." She explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down her back.

He says that Luke's death was an accident, but I don't know if I believe him.

I don't recognise him anymore and I warn you that he's unpredictable.

She was sure she would eat her supper as usual in solitude, but it turned out that the King had held a small banquet and she was to attend.

Aegon wanted to show off her dragon and what she had done, while humiliating his brother and his betrothed, she thought wryly, walking there reluctantly.

When the door opened in front of her, she saw a long table, on either side of which sat the royal family and their loyal lords with their relatives.

She did not know where she should sit or what to do, the King, however, decided to take pity on her.

"Ah, here is my dear, fearless cousin. Come here, my Lady, I have assigned you a seat next to my brother. Perhaps your presence will lift his spirits." He called out, and she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze, knowing that she couldn't react to this, that she just had to survive it.

She sat down in the only empty seat, between her cousin and the king's wife, Helaena – she was pale and sad, staring off into the distance somewhere with empty eyes.

She still had not come to terms with the death of her son.

However, as she sank into her grief and sorrow, the King, on the contrary, was bubbling over with a desire for revenge, ready for action.

When she glanced sideways, all she saw was his hand clenched into a fist, his familiar scent reached her nostrils – she swallowed quietly, twisting in her seat, feeling a pleasant pulsing between her thighs, for some reason remembering how pleasant the touch of his fingers was there, sinking into her damp folds.

She reached for her wine cup and took a loud sip from it, not bothering to look to the side, her gaze fixed on the Queen Alicent who sat opposite her.

"My Lady." She heard an unfamiliar female voice directed in her side and she let out a quiet breath, taking another sip from her goblet, hearing her cousin twist restlessly in his chair.

She looked at Floris Baratheon and forced herself to give her the kindest, warmest smile she could afford. Floris was also smiling; had it not been for her gaze, she might have found her expression even sympathetic.

However, her eyebrows arched in some sort of compassion, a sign that she wanted to show her false understanding.

"I congratulate you on taming a dragon. No one expected you to succeed." She said softly, shaking her head as if filled with sincere admiration.

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she managed not to laugh.

"I didn't believe it myself, my Lady. I was convinced that I would burn and become dust." She replied lightly, not taking her eyes off her.

Several people at the table chuckled at her words as Floris watched her for a moment, playing with the small gold ring on her heart finger.

"The gods have spared you. Will you stand to fight your father?" She asked, as if giving her a challenge of sorts.

"Enough." She heard her cousin's impatient voice between them directed at his betrothed.

She, however, found that she was happy to answer her.

"My dragon lacks experience and composure. I will be a mere support for the King and the Prince." She replied, and Floris leaned back, intrigued.

"Support indeed needed." Aegon added, popping a grape into his mouth, biting through it with a loud crunch. "On which we all agree. Now, music!"

For the rest of the feast, she pretended to be very focused on her piece of roast, which she ate slowly, knowing that she couldn't flee immediately if she didn't want to offend the King – she didn't hold him in special esteem but she knew that he held her in some sort of affection, and after what he had accused her of after his son's death, she feared that one wrong move on her part would be enough for her to fall back into his disfavour.

True, the responsible parties had been found and the King himself had brought them justice, however, she could not let him begin to think again that she had helped her father let them into the keep.

He had to be sure that she was faithful to him.

They both had to be sure of it.

Him and his brother.

She swallowed hard, pulled out of her reverie, feeling a shudder when her cousin's knee pressed against hers. She was sure he simply wanted to change position, he, however, spread himself out comfortably, leaving his leg where it was.

Should she move away?

Do nothing?

What was that supposed to mean?

She glanced sideways at his hand out of the corner of her eye – she could see that his fingers were tapping the tabletop in some nervous, impatient gesture.

Their lessons.

Was he trying to tell her to leave and go to the library before he did, so as not to frustrate his betrothed?

She wanted to ask him that, but couldn't, so she decided she would do what she thought appropriate and simply stood up, nodding her head at the King.

"Your Grace. I will retire now, if you will allow me." She said softly, and Aegon nodded.

"I allow it." He replied, his voice through the amount of wine he had managed to drink like a babble.

Gods help me, she thought as she bowed to him and the Queen Dowager, without bestowing even a single glance on the prince or his betrothed.

She waited in her chamber for half an hour, changing in the meantime into the more comfortable, casual silk robe the Queen had given her, throwing it over her nightgown, tying it around her waist.

When she finally stepped outside her guard furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"Prince Aemond wanted to meet me in the library. Take me there." She said – the man hesitated and sighed heavily, indicating with his hand for her to go ahead.

Her cousin was already waiting for her – he gave her one protracted glance from over his open books, his eye open wide as if he was surprised by her appearance, candles all around him.

He nodded at her to sit beside him in the chair, and she did so, leaving her guard outside the door.

He moved one of the books towards her and opened it to a page he apparently wanted to discuss with her.

"We'll start with the basics. The most important and simplest terms." He said matter-of-factly, sliding another book towards her and leaned in, his clearly defined cheekbone close, too close, pointing his finger at one of the words.

"Jelmor." He hummed. "North."

"Jelmor." She whispered, feeling the tension in all the muscles of her body.

"Ñāqon. East."

"Nāqon."

"No. Roll your tongue at the n." He said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze from which her heart struck harder.

It seemed to her that his iris was black.

There was something obscenely intimate in his bent figure, in his slightly parted lips, in his proximity, the place between her thighs all swollen, increasingly moist and warm.

"Ñāqon." She whispered.

"Better." He hummed, his gaze never leaving her face even though his finger moved on to the next words, as if he knew this book by heart. "Vēzor. South."

"Vēzor."

"Endia. West."

"Endia."

"Muña. Mother." He said, something flashed dangerously in his gaze, as if he knew exactly what her reaction would be and he was not wrong.

She froze, clasping her hands on her thighs, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, the tightness in her throat indicating that she felt pain.

"Muña."

"Mmm. Kepa. Father."

She swallowed hard, looking at him with eyes glazed from tears, feeling her body begin to twitch. His lips parted slightly, as if what he was doing to her, the fact that she was vulnerable aroused him.

"Repeat." He whispered.

"Kepa." She said, feeling a single, heavy tear run down her cheek.

Kepa.

She shuddered, looking up at him in horror as his hand rose to her cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing the wet mark from her face.

"Trēsy. Son." He continued, his voice like the sound of water, calm and quiet.

Tender, as if he were moved.

Why?

She sighed as his hand traveled lower, his index finger running over her jaw.

"Tresy."

"No." He said. "Trēsy. The letter 'ē' needs to be read deeper, as if you want to sing."

"Trēsy."

"Tala. Daugther."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together, feeling that she couldn't do it, the feeling as if he was driving needle after needle into her heart made it difficult for her to get anything out.

She sighed, closing her eyes as he leaned lower, in some natural reflex pressing his forehead against hers, his hand sinking into the skin of her neck, his warm, excited breath enveloping her face.

She involuntarily clenched her thighs together, feeling the wonderful, familiar pulsing and tickling between them.

"Tala."

"Hāedar." He exhaled, something in his voice from which she felt her nipples harden, peeking through from under the fabric of her robe. "Little sister."

She opened her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

And that was a mistake.

He was looking straight into her face.

She sighed when she felt his other hand on her knee, moving slowly up to her thigh.

"Hāedar." She exhaled, feeling her cunt begin to leak with desire against her will.

"Lēkia." He said, as if he had done something definitive, a quiet moan breaking from her throat as his hand closed over her womanhood. "Older brother."

"Lēkia." She moaned and whimpered as his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, loud, sticky kiss full of their saliva and panting, her palm touching his scarred cheek, drawing a low murmur of delight from his throat.

She touched him.

She sighed as she let her hand sink into his smooth white hair, for some reason seeking comfort in him, an escape from the cold, bleak loneliness and emptiness that filled her heart.

They sank again and again into each other's soft, fleshy skin, his tongue bursting between her teeth as his hand lifted the fabric of her robe, the other clenched in her curls.

She would have cried out in shocking delight had it not been for the fact that his lips muffled all the sound she made of herself as the tips of his fingers dug into the silken folds of her womanhood, dripping and throbbing with lust.

He groaned into her throat when he felt how unashamedly wet she was for him, and she gasped when his free hand slipped from her hair to her wrist, grasping it, drawing her to his body, pressing it against the bulge in his breeches.

He murmured and licked her encouragingly as her fingers tentatively ran over the outline of his swollen manhood, hidden beneath the leather material, hard, long and twitching.

He let go of her hand, embracing her around the waist and pulling her closer as he made sure she was going to give him what he wanted, their sighs of desire melting between their plump lips as his fingers pushed against her hot slit.

She spread her legs wider, wanting to feel it, wanting him to do it to her, but they both jumped away from each other as if burned when they heard the creak of the door opening.

Her cousin wiped his hand, sticky with her moisture in his breeches, looking at his betrothed's figure, pale, and she lowered back the material of her robe, staring blankly at the books open before her.

Was she able to see by their faces, by their quickened breaths what had happened?

She felt shame at the thought that she shouldn't have done this.

She was his betrothed.

She was the one he should be touching like this.

She was the one he should spend the evening with, learning about her body.

"The guards told me I would find you here, my Prince. I did not know you would have company." She said calmly, however, disappointment and understandable annoyance could be heard in her tone of voice.

She swallowed hard, feeling that the material beneath her buttocks was wet with her moisture, her swollen walls pulsing greedily around nothing, begging to feel his fingers again, her nipples hard and sore, clearly outlined beneath her robe.

"I am teaching my cousin the language of Old Valyria. It is the only way she can communicate with her dragon." He said, feigning composure, looking ahead but not at her even though she stopped right beside him.

She touched one of the books and flipped a page, remaining silent for a moment.

"May I join you? I would also like to learn the language of your ancestors, my love." She said, her hand on his shoulder.

She looked at him and saw that he had closed his eye, as if he felt discomfort the moment Lady Floris touched him.

He swallowed loudly and opened his eyelid, his gaze helpless and childlike, filled with pain.

"I will not be able to concentrate with you standing by my side, my Lady." He whispered, his voice weak, as if he had run out of strength.

Floris's hand slid from his shoulder to his forearm, his figure tense, his lips clamped into a tight line.

He didn't look at her.

"Does my presence disturb you, my love?" Floris asked, and she twisted in her seat, deciding that this conversation was too private.

These were their problems, their betrothal, their worries.

Why was she allowing herself to be dragged into this?

"I'll leave you alone. With your permission." She said quickly, wanting to get up, his gaze shifting to her, sharp and angry.

"Daor, hāedar."

She froze in mid-motion with her hands on the table, looking at him in disbelief, feeling her walls clench around nothing at his words.

No, little sister.

Little sister.

She swallowed hard feeling her lips part involuntarily, her eyebrows arching in helplessness, the heat that spread across her chest strangely pleasant and reassuring.

Floris looked at him then at her and shook her head.

"What did you say, my love?"

"I don't allow it. We are not finished yet. Soon her dragon will move to fight at my side and she must be ready. I ask that you never interrupt us again. If you wish, we will take a walk around the royal gardens tomorrow, just as you desire." He said emotionlessly, as if trying to calm a whimpering child.

Floris swallowed hard and looked at her in a way from which she felt discomfort in her stomach, a sense of humiliation, frustration and irritation in her gaze.

"Is it because she is your cousin? Like any Targaryen you prefer your own kin?" She asked quietly, both of them bouncing when his fists slammed into the table, and he sprang from his seat, towering over his betrothed as if he wanted to tear her apart.

She too stood up, grabbing his arm in some helpless, naïve gesture.

"Lēkia." She said pleadingly.

Floris's lips clenched looking at the fact that she dared to touch him, that her prince looked at her and not his betrothed, that it was her opinion that counted, her word that could stop him.

And then Floris' gaze fled lower, to his breeches, and she froze, pale, seeing exactly her answer to all her concerns.

Her hand let go of him when his nostrils stopped twitching with rage, when his jaw relaxed into an expression a little softer, though still frustrated.

He finally looked at his betrothed and licked his lower lip, as if trying to control himself.

"I will consider that you never said it, my Lady. Otherwise I would have to recognise that you intended to insult me and my family. And that would mean, in turn, that my betrothed is a fool. Is that how it is, my Lady?" He gasped in a voice filled with mockery, from which she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze.

Floris Baratheon looked at him with eyes full of tears, and then her gaze turned to her, her lips quivering with rage and grief.

"No, my Prince. I am not." She said, turned and walked away, leaving them alone.

She was unable to look at him – the silence in the chamber, his taut silhouette standing beside her made her feel like her wetness was dripping from between her thighs straight onto the stone floor beneath her feet.

"You may leave." He said finally.

She nodded and moved towards the door on soft legs, walking out into the corridor, thinking that they had both accomplished some amazing feat by not simply fucking each other on that table.

She sighed loudly, running her hand over her face, thinking that maybe she wasn't such a bad person.

She figured that during their next lessons she wouldn't sit so close to him, that she wouldn't look at him or tempt him.

That she wouldn't let him touch her anymore.

She blinked, looking around, only noticing after a moment that there was no guard who should be watching her.

She turned when she heard the rustling of a gown behind her, something long and hard hit her head with all its force, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

It seemed a moment before she lost consciousness that she heard the breathy voice of her cousin's betrothed above her, only a quiet hiss left her lips.

"Whore."

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randomdragonfires · 6 months

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Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon AU; Smut; Heavy Religious Themes; Obsession.

WORD COUNT | 10.1k

A/N | Another one of my older stories, because @toms-cherry-trees reminded me of this one! This was originally beta-read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs.

She walked in sin, and had him in a trance.

A lowly servant girl, that was all she was. If he had been in his right mind, he would have never noticed her; never given her the time of day. Dragons did not spend their time entertaining sheep - especially in a time of war, when there were many and more important things to attend to.

The blood of the dragon ran hot, and his had boiled when he saw her for the first time. They said murder and bloodshed turned men into insatiable monsters and opened the doors to affluence for whores - of course, somebody had to draw benefit from the lust that came from making it out alive from battle. The men thought the cunts they got to sink their cocks into were their reward for victory; in truth, they had lost to women who made good use of war-tainted fools’ hot-headedness and filled their pockets with gold.

Aemond was different, however. While men spent their nights with women who screamed loud enough to keep every surrounding soul awake, he had taken to keeping away from sins of the flesh to keep himself in the light of the Gods. In the faint whispers of firelight, Aemond Targaryen would pore over war strategy and books of politicking, history, philosophy and diplomacy - that was when he was not reading passages of the Seven-Pointed Star, to give himself some sort of comfort during uncertain times of war.

He was a kinslayer already. He had to work doubly hard to appease the Gods now. He was a warrior and a Prince through and through, and he knew better than to give in to carnal desires that would mean next to nothing to him in the face of the lessons of the Gods that he had been taught.

And then, she happened. She had walked in moonlight, and she had been sin incarnate.

On his first night as Prince Regent, he informed the maidservants to keep the candles burning in his study at the library, so he could continue to ponder over strategies to proceed in the fight for the throne. He had walked in while struggling to keep up with the pace of his thoughts, his calculated decisions seeming wrong at every turn and terribly in need of further thought. With his hands held behind his back so tightly that they would have gone red, Aemond walked to the private library where his study was set up - and she had been there.

He did not know if he had seen her before. He did not know if she had attended to him earlier, or if she was new to the Keep. All he knew was that she had been bent over a candle, the low light of which had given him a warm view of her soft face and the breasts that threatened to spill out of her tight servant maid’s dress. Her loose braid had fallen over her shoulder as she shielded the fire with her hand from the night air, and he watched her as she had looked at the flame intently, hoping it would keep.

With her shy little eyes and sharp nose, pouty lips, and nimble hands, she had Aemond’s attention completely, his mind already swirling with thoughts of her, of who she was, of what he could do to her.

Aemond’s very heart felt like it had been knocked down to his gut, with how heavy it was at the sight of her. There was a sense of unease about the slow loss of bearings in him, a feeling that he did not know what to make of. Illuminated by candlelight, she was the loveliest sight he’d ever known - almost divine, like a gift from the Gods themselves.

He could have her if he wanted to; burn her if he wished. He was a Targaryen Prince, now the solemn ruler of the realm - what was he, if not the living personification of fire itself? His peculiar thoughts threatened to give way to those of a sinful nature, and Aemond was painfully aware of it both in the chaos of his mind and the tightening of his trousers.

Through his hazy one-eyed gaze, worsened by the dim darkening of the night, he watched as she tilted her head ever so slightly. It took him by complete surprise how her neck called for him, for his touch. All he wanted was to run his fingers over the newly exposed skin from jaw to collarbone and squeeze her neck in his firm hold; just enough for her to feel his strength and burgeoning desire, but not so much that she’d beg to be let go of.

In the Hour of the Wolf, illuminated by the bright candlelight, Aemond Targaryen had seen the lowly servant girl for the very first time. And the moment her eyes had met his one violet orb, he knew he would never be able to let her go.

“Your Grace,” she murmured; whether it was in reverence or fear, he did not know. What he did know was that he enjoyed the respect from her, just as much as he did watching her bow down to greet him, giving him an ample view of her chest once more. Her voice was an almost quiet, tired one - one that might have belonged to a woman who would choose to stay quiet and unseen if she could manage it.

It was the nature of servants to put the wishes of the royal family above their own - so, of course, even if she wished for quiet, she would have to open her mouth and greet him with the respect that was his due.

So far, she hadn’t disappointed him. She gripped the sides of her skirts while she waited for him to give her leave, and he wondered how far he could take this little game that he had begun to play. Would she be a willing participant in this dance of theirs that he had wanted to partake in with her? Would she put his needs above her own? Or would he have to bend and break her to have her?

“Continue,” he said, in a harsh tone that masked the growing curiosity in him. Who was this girl that had managed to capture his attention so effortlessly? Would she be warm to the touch like fire that she covered with her hands, or cold like the ice in his wine? Who was she? What was she?

He was a devout follower of the Faith, and was very well apprised of the punishments for indulging in sins of the flesh. He also knew that it would take an otherworldly grip to pull and lead him astray, and to his disappointing yet exciting realisation, he was sure that she had gained that power over him in a matter of moments - like nobody else ever had before.

If he had felt unease at how easily he had found himself willing to give in, he hadn’t bothered with it right then. Somehow, he had known that she had been worth it.

He took his seat at his chair by the desk - his scrolls, parchments, correspondence, and books already laid out for him. She had quietly walked over to the shelves with a dusting cloth in hand and had begun cleaning the older books on the shelves within his line of sight.

He watched from the corner of his eye, all the while trying his best to read from the book in hand. But his efforts had been in vain, of course. How could he have won, when sin herself was tempting him from across the chamber? How could he, when she was right there, mesmerizing him with every movement of hers?

If he hadn’t been so caught up with the voices in his mind, he would have seen her watching him from the corner of her eye and smiling, ever so slightly. Only a moment, and she had disarmed him. Sin was dangerous - and he now knew how.

Her mere existence had left him defenceless against her effortless pull toward him, and the notion that she had not even intended to hold his eye like this and yet still had - she so very much had - only worsened the weakness creeping up on him.

He was not Aegon. He was not the rake who dishonoured powerless women over a moment’s weakness. He was not the man who seeded women who were not worthy of his blood. He was not the man who indulged in sin. And yet, as he had watched her curious eyes trying to make out the titles of the books she wiped, the fear of becoming that man grabbed him by the throat.

Those who indulged in sins of the flesh were cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells - and no pretty face was worth that fate, no matter how ethereal she seemed to him. No Targaryen would suffer that fate - he was the blood of the Conqueror; he would not be anything less than ideal. He would not be the first to slip and sin.

So why did he find himself rising from his seat and walking towards her? Hands held back and his breathing even and steady, Aemond watched as she stilled, cognizant of his presence as his dark shadow fell over the shelves in front of her. She did not turn to see him or try to run.

She froze with her eyes fixed on his unsteady, dark shadow, and he enjoyed the nervous beads of sweat that began to form on the nape of her neck, right below where the stray hairs of her braid fell haphazardly. She swallowed, and Aemond's eye followed the slow bobbing of her throat with great intent.

Was she fearful? If yes, she would have had every right to be. He certainly was afraid - of being carried away by sin.

That was all she was. Dirt and sin, both of which he should stay cleansed of. And yet, his hands moved of their own accord - the tip of his thumb wiped away the beads of sweat forming on her skin, drop after drop. Her breath hitched in her throat in surprise as gooseflesh arose in the wake of his touch and the warmth of his breath, and Aemond could not help the cutting smile that graced his lips then.

Could he conquer sin? He did not know. But he wanted - oh, he so wanted - to learn. And if there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was learning. With that singular thought in mind, he moved her face by the chin to the side - giving her a view of his unmarred side if she wished for it.

She looked straight ahead, making no attempt to look at him. His hand was yet to leave her chin; if anything, his grip had only gotten tighter. In close proximity, he saw the way her hair curled on her sweat-dampened skin; the way her breasts heaved as she took in laboured breaths to calm herself down as a Prince of the realm touched and held her in his tight grasp.

Aemond’s thumb lazily caressed her jaw and lower lip, fingers holding onto her like she was a startled little fawn who would run if he let her. In close proximity, the swell of her backside grazed his clothed bulge for just a moment - enough to drive him mad with want and take a step back. But even then, he did not let go.

How could sin manage to look so innocent? How could she remain so ignorant of what she was doing to him?

Those who committed sins of the flesh would spend the entirety of the afterlife making their way through the dark expanses of the Seven Hells, and she… she was a test of will. The Gods had clearly sent her to test him, for why else would he have been so easily swayed by a pretty face?

“What do they call you?” He rasped into her ear, while she, to his utter shock, lifted her lips up slightly - enough to send his senses into action. She smiled like she knew the realm's biggest secret, and wouldn't tell anyone until she'd let it unfold a bit for her own amusement.

All of a sudden, there was no chasm, no oceans to separate them - all that they had between them was a slight fraction of space, just enough to breathe. His nose brushed her earlobe and she hissed - if he had not been close to her, he would have missed it.

Her name tumbled out of her lips in faint song-like whisper - a voice made to seduce - and Aemond was convinced that she was some sort of otherworldly creature - a siren, or a fey. Her voice went straight to his cock, and his eagerness was evident as it hardened. She was yet to make even a slight movement - every part of her remained still, and if she were not breathing, he would be convinced that he had killed her with the forwardness of his actions.

His hands reached down to her neck, and he continued down as he traced a path down the soft skin of her arms with the tips of his fingers. His hands reached hers, and he pried her fingers apart, allowing him to intertwine his with hers. He guided their joined left hands to wrap around her waist, and her eyes followed his movements as her head hung low.

The laces of her worn-out brown dress called for his fingers to run through them. The sight was the most inviting one he ever knew, and he let go of her other hand to let his finger work through the first loop. He gulped at getting to see a new plane of her body - it was a very small patch of newly won skin, but it had made his mouth water and mind race nonetheless.

He wondered what it would be like if he simply swooped in, pushed her braid aside, and planted his lips right there, but Aemond managed to hold himself. Would she push him away, or would she welcome him and encourage him to work his way through the second loop? Would she let him go further down her back until his mouth reached the swell of her backside?

His calloused fingertip tapped the skin under the newly removed loop on her back once, twice, thrice. The gooseflesh that arose and the audible gasp she let out felt like the biggest victory Aemond had ever known.

He decided then that if he were going to conquer sin, he would do it looking her in the eye. After all, Princes had to be honourable - and it was not honourable to approach prey from behind.

He turned her around, and she was quick to take a step back - her back hit the old wooden shelf behind her, and he towered over her, his presence a looming threat to her virtue as one of his hands rested on the side of her head, while the fingertips of the other grazed her neck. He drew his face closer to her, and her breath hitched, and he was infinitely amused by what her thoughts right now could be.

He pulled her face up by the jaw, and now she was forced to look at him - he expected to see fear for her modesty, nervousness for her virtue, and shame for her birth and station, which took away her agency when being held so close by a Prince.

He had not expected to see eyes that matched his own fire. Was he hallucinating, or was she truly holding her own against him in silence? He did not know. But what he did know was that meeting her vision from up close had stunned him. From where he was, he would have been able to count the number of lashes on each eyelid if he so wished - and it was that realisation that broke his reverie and made him draw back.

Sin and shame. He had to be far removed from both, and yet, he had almost allowed himself to be drowned in them. Near where she had stood, he had seen the bound books on the shelves. With his one eye, he had made out the title of The Seven Pointed Star, and he awakened - as though he had been doused with ice-cold water.

How quickly had he been drawn toward her? How easily had he almost given in to temptation? His first night as Prince Regent, and he had already teetered close to sin, dancing at the edges of Seven Hells as the Gods’ most tempting offering had lured him in.

“Leave.” His voice, hoarse from being in close proximity to her, had carried through the air but seemed to have failed to reach her. It seemed as though she had been looking through him, past him, and his words had fallen on deaf ears. She had seemed to be in thought as she ignored his grunt, as though she was waiting for him to take his words back and ravish her right then.

He expected to loom over her, to engulf her - he had not considered that she might perhaps seek to do the same thing to him. The thought of being controlled or met by an equal unnerved him like nothing else ever had.

So he repeated himself and held his hands behind his back, waiting for her to follow his command and swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth. She quickly picked up her rag from the shelf and had gathered her skirts, eyes downcast and flitting about in confusion and shock.

If he looked closely, he might have noticed a slight knowing smile - one that indicated that this was far from over.

She bowed to him, eyes confident - she said much and more with her eyes, he found - as though his hands had not touched her only a few fleeting moments prior. She made away into the corridors - out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.

He let go of breath that he didn’t know he had been holding only when he had heard the definitive slam of the doors following her exit.

He who holds his own against temptations of the flesh would hold infinite power and control over his senses, the Holy Book had said.

His one eye trained over the spine of the Seven Pointed Star, and he sighed. He had looked sin in the eye and won tonight, resisting his urges. But given how she had plagued his thoughts so strongly even after running away, how long would it be before he gave in?

Aemond Targaryen was not a man of depravity.

He was not a man of sin. And yet, it was terrifying to him how he very easily could be whenever he was even remotely in her presence.

It was maddening how gooseflesh arose on his skin even when she was farthest away from his vision, blocked by many others who were positioned closer to him. His palms would become drenched just at the sight of her skirts billowing as she took a turn, without even having seen her face or body. Just the mere sight of the edge of her skirts was enough to drive him mad with want; and want her, he did.

On some days, he would have to sit with his hands held together tightly at the supper table while she served the food, if only to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand. His heart beat loudly and heavily in a steady thump, thump, thump - so definitive, he wondered if his family could hear it at the table.

What was worse was that she knew. She knew the maddening effect she had on him. Her lips curled up just slightly at how his eye would flit to her chest while she bent down to pick up his plate from the table. After dinner, before he could catch her and keep her in his hold, she would be gone. Regardless of the time of day, he sought her out like a moth to a flame. It did not matter where he was; it was always her that he wanted.

The shame of being driven with want for her touch - a mere servant girl’s touch - had taken over him, consumed him entirely. It spread through him faster than wildfire ever could, and hit him like a well-aimed arrow through to his heart. Only a week ago, he had been swirling with thoughts of battle and regency.

On one particular day, he had caught her tending to the gardens while walking in the corridors of the Red Keep. It was instantaneous how he immediately managed to make out her form even from far away. He stepped closer to the railing and watched with a stoic expression on his face and yearning in his mind, still completely befuddled as to what this servant girl had that had pulled her to him in an instant.

Soon enough, the girls who were with her had dispersed, and she’d waved them goodbye before going back to kneeling down next to the bushes, taking good care to not damage the roses as she dug out the mud.

Hands caked with dirt, possibly. The idea should have repulsed him, but the thought of her placing those very hands on him and tracing a muddy path down his chest knocked the very breath out of him in an instant.

Each day in the following week was torture for him - catching glimpses of her in pieces, in fragments, but never entirely and never enough to properly see her. Each sighting of her skirts, her hair, or her back was a moment on its own, frozen in time. She’d taken good care to make herself scarce, so much so that he worried.

Had he frightened her with his forwardness? Did she fear him? Wanting her was supposed to bring her closer to him, but it seemed to him that all it had done was push her away, oceans apart.

It killed him - how his mind, heart, and soul sang for her, a siren song so rich in wanting that it would leave nothing but destruction in its wake as he sought her out - and yet, she hadn't met his eye after that night when she’d run away from him, but she smiled.

He remembered clearly the way his fingertip had grazed the slightly exposed skin of her back; the way her breath had hitched when his fingers ran over her neck, and how she’d frozen for a moment when she felt his warm breath on her. And her voice - gods, her voice - he kept her name and her voice running through his mind like a desperate prayer, as though it was the only word that would bring him salvation from all the sins that he’d committed.

He remembered the slight upward curve of her lips, almost as though she was challenging him to go further. He thought about her all day, every day - and yet, it seemed as though it was never enough.

When this game of hide and seek had become too much for him, he’d take to the comfort of the night to relieve himself in the privacy of his bedchambers. He knew it was a sin to touch himself and spill into his own hand - but if he had to commit a negligible error to keep himself from committing a grave sin, like taking her no matter how much he wanted it, he would have to.

Aemond spent his days thinking her name, and his nights voicing it out in moans, grunts, and gasps as he let his hand work his painfully hard cock. Each time he pleasured himself, he remembered how her hands felt against his own - he imagined those hands on his cock, stroking each vein of his back and forth until he had himself drowning in pleasure, with white-hot spend spurting all over his hands and stomach. He imagined her hands coated with his seed.

She was an enthralling beauty. Calm, but with tempestuous eyes. Quiet, but with a flame to match his own. He'd hold a torch for her forever if that's what it took. He wanted her like he’d wanted nothing else.

His eye would remain closed throughout - the irony of his eye having to be closed for him to properly see her now did not escape him. It was a need, to be able to have her in some shape or form - almost as though he was at the edge of his body, and she was the only one who could save him from losing himself.

He imagined her face resting on his chest, her breasts pressed onto him. Her hands on his cock, his down her skirts. He’d let his mind take him all the way, and each time he spilled onto himself, he drove himself mad with more want - it was a vicious, endless cycle. He continued until he tired himself out and went to sleep, his last word of the night always being a faint and needy whisper of her name as he wondered what it would be like if she was sharing his bed, his heart, his life.

The shame would engulf him soon after he woke, and he’d grit his teeth at how the gods had chosen to play him. If they wanted him to be righteous and good, why put her in his path? If he was meant to resist her, why make her irresistible? Why play him for a fool? The unanswered questions, those that sound like he had been screaming into a well, gave way to a gigantic lump in his throat.

What she’d made of him - this pathetic, needy, pining mess of a man - could not stand for much longer. If he had to throw himself at the feet of the Seven and beg for penance, for absolution, for peace and quiet - he would. He would do it a thousand times over. He hated that he loved the feeling of wanting her. He was lost on what he could possibly do with the emotions creeping onto him through his blood as he pondered over the contrast.

With his intent and goal clear in mind, Aemond walked to the Royal Sept. He decided that he would fall at the Father’s feet, beg for mercy in his judgement, and pray to be forgiven. He would apologise to the Mother for playing host to foul and sinful thoughts that should have had no place in the mind of a Prince. He would leave himself at the mercy of the Maiden and make his shame known for wanting to defile a woman who’d done nothing but go about her duty.

She was there, bent down on her knees at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, praying. She was right in front of him.

The Sept was empty, save for him and her. Aemond’s hands went to his back quickly, and he managed to stop moving his feet to silence the clicking of his boots. He watched her intently, fiercely, unnervingly.

He may have come to the Sept as a pathetic man wanting to give the Gods their due for his sinful indiscretions, but her presence had immediately taken him to who he was a week ago on the fateful night when he met her - a starved man who was mad with desire for her.

There was something to be said about how he’d come to the Sept ready to beg for forgiveness - only for the pathetic thoughts to become a distant memory as she invaded his mind once more. He was a hunter with a primal urge again.

Hot, ready, and absolutely ravenous, ready to stake out his prey - with her knees bent and her face unassuming as she let the comforting and safe feeling of the Sept take over her, she had no idea what dangers to her virtue the man stealthily standing behind her posed.

But Aemond did. He mapped out every inch of the skin that he could and could not see from where he stood, and he knew exactly how he wanted to touch, enjoy, and worship every inch of her. From where he stood, the entirety of her looked so small that she could have fit into his one hand. He closed his fist at the thought of holding her tight and watched.

The light from the stained glass windows reflected and fell around her in a bright ring of fiery orange and light rose, and she looked lit from within as the light illuminated and surrounded her. She may be wearing an old, worn-out servant maid's dress - but in the divine light of the Sept, surrounded by all things holy, she was nothing less than a goddess to Aemond.

Standing at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, she was a Goddess he wanted to claim; in mind, heart, and soul. The Maiden had fallen from the skies and had taken to taunting him with her beauty.

In the light, all he saw was her. Everything around her had vanished, and she was all his vision could register. It was almost as though the Maiden was offering her to him, asking him to indulge, rewarding him for all his years of obedience.

Everything fell into place, and all his thoughts made sense. She was sin, but she was the reward too - perhaps knowing that already was the reason why she had smiled. Only she was visible to him in a grand Sept adorned with many religious relics - a clear sign that she was all he was meant to see.

How could he not have her? He’d spent years being the obedient son, the good son. He’d spent years studying the blade, learning the histories of his realm and the philosophies. He made sure to be the ideal son his mother wanted, and now he was a Prince Regent of Westeros. A powerful man within his own right.

And all his time being good had finally led him to her - a sinful indulgence. And if he had earned the power he had, he had earned her too. She was his, and soon he would make it known - to her and to the damned Gods. He would make them all watch from above - all the Gods, the Old, the New, the foreign ones and his Valyrian ones - as he worshipped her in their place, as she usurped them in his world. She would be a goddess, and he, a devoted, starving, and humble man - on his knees for her.

He glanced over at her and then at the Seven statues one last time before walking away, his coat flying sleekly behind him as she finally finished her prayers and turned around. He forgave her for consuming him, his thoughts, and invading his very being. His hand stretched out and laid floating mid-air, reaching out for a girl who had not yet sensed his presence.

In the distance, as a second son walked away with his mind made, the young servant maid’s ears picked up the hauntingly familiar, fading sounds of his boot-clad purposeful gait. The candle she lit at the Maiden’s feet melted away, the sight making for something ethereally beautiful in the bright light.

She walked away soon after, and did not notice as the flame sputtered, faded, and went out.

Aemond Targaryen was a man starved.

This game they played, this push and pull, was enough to drive a disciplined and restrained man like Aemond to his wit’s end. His nights became longer as he stayed up to pleasure himself and moan out her name until the entire corridor heard it; his days became longer in her absence too, as he stayed alert, trying to find her in some corner or another. This dance that they paired up for was an absolute tease - he always found himself reaching out for a hand that did not fall into his grasp, one that he missed by a fraction of space each time.

She would walk into a corner and be gone before he could catch sight of her; he spotted her braided hair in a sea of heads from the dias once, but he could not keep up as the servants moved to work. In the library, in the corridors, in the gardens, in the common rooms - he’d missed her narrowly everywhere.

He had always been a man who worked for what he had. His dragon, his sword skill, his intelligence, his fearsome reputation - Aemond worked hard to earn every single one of his known traits, and as was the natural order of things, he was made to earn her too. It made his patience run out slowly and swiftly - but he did not give up. He would not.

An offering from the Gods was never simply handed over - there are many trials and tribulations to be faced first. And in his case, it would mean finding her first.

One fine day, he did.

He had seen her enjoying herself. She held a basket of dirty clothes to be taken to wash, and her companion was hidden by a wall. Aemond knew that pursuing her right here, despite every bone in his body wanting to, would not be a good idea - he could not afford to be found lusting after a serving girl with such intensity.

But he could stay around for a while and hear her speak. He did love her voice - the hold her siren song had on him in each waking moment was absolutely crushing, and he’d let it take him.

He stood out of sight and heard her talking about the Holy Day festivities out in the city, and when he heard the voice of her companion, his blood ran cold. A man - she had been speaking to and entertaining the company of a man. She was giving him her laughs freely and her company with nothing in return - laughs and time that should have been his.

Her lips curled up in the most captivating way, and it hurt and angered Aemond to think that it was not meant for him. He once again heard the man speak about taverns and dances happening all night on the day of, and Aemond’s hand clutched the hilt of his dagger.

"Vaogenka Andali," he seethed. [Andal scum]

It would be so easy, so simple to rip his throat out right now. He could easily kill him and take her, claim her right there as the man watched Aemond take her in every possible way with his dying breath. He would do that to every man who dared to meet her eyes and put himself in her path, for he was the only one with the right to behold the sight of her.

Sin of course, was a common temptation. No wonder everybody wanted to partake. No matter. She was his. And judging by her next words, it seemed that she knew it too.

“Apologies, I’m already spoken for.”

His hold on his dagger loosened as his mind and heart caught up with her words.

He loved the push and pull of this sinful game they played, and it seemed that she did too. His smile was harsh and cutting, dripping with victory and pride at knowing that his want for her affections was uncontested. He slowly slinked away, and completely missed how she leaned her head back at the sound of his boots, only to spot his silver hair in the distance.

He missed her sly smile once more.

That night, her words ran through his mind over and over as he imagined her whispering sweet nothings in his ear while letting him slip his cock into her cunt, The mental image of her wanting, moaning and at his mercy while he fucked into her mercilessly had sent a shivering bolt of pleasure to his spine. It was the sight of her looking up at him and batting her lashes innocently that did it for him, and sent him careening to his peak.

On the seventh day of the seventh moon, a day considered holy for the New Gods, the prayers at the Royal Sept were to happen late in the morning in the presence of the royal family and the courtiers. Aemond had to make an appearance in the beginning as his mother welcomed those of the court and noble houses, and so he stood, with his hands held behind his back, trying to spot a familiar face amidst the throngs of people who had gathered.

There are very few serving girls around, she was not there. Where would she be?

Aemond took his leave, and he watched as the High Septon took his place at the front and led the proceedings. He walked out of the Sept through the backdoor, with the faint and dull sounds of prayer running through his ears as he remained within earshot.

“The Seven themselves walked among the Andals in the hills of Andalos, and it was they who crowned Hugor of the Hill and promised him and his descendants great kingdoms in a foreign land…”

The Septon’s voice reverberated through Aemond’s mind, and given all the shame he had felt and the conflicted nature of his thoughts ever since he met her, he felt the need to listen to the Word of the Gods. And so he froze in the darkened, empty corridor, with his back leaned onto the wall and his hands held together on his front, finger tapping incessantly into his thigh as he listened.

“The Seven had promised King Hugor a golden land amidst towering mountains…”

Promises. What had the Gods promised him?

Almost as though they had heard his prayers, she had walked in.

She was what the Gods had promised him.

She looked no different from the first time he’d seen her, and his mind was racing. His throat had suddenly gone dry, and his voice was seemingly stripped away from him as he finally faced her.

He’d wanted her for too long, and now she was right in front of him; his for the taking. He would not let her go this time.

The basket that she held in her hands had a variety of fruits that he presumed were for the lords and ladies to eat once they’d finished with their prayers. If his assumptions were right, she was on her way to join those at the Sept to pray.

The Maiden as he saw her, was on her way to the Sept to bless them with her presence. And Aemond was about to show her that he was the most devout man in the Kingdoms. It did not matter how loud the echoing sounds of their prayers were - he’d worship her like none of them could.

He stalked toward her with the cadence of a starved man, one that had been kept away from his prey for too long. And what was he, if not that? The High Septon’s voice was faintly audible to him, but nowhere close to impactful enough to sway him towards any other course.

“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” Aemond heard him say. No, none of them managed to penetrate his thoughts - but this woman, this Goddess amongst men… She owned him. She had his heart, his soul, and everything that he was.

She quickly dropped the basket and her eyes followed the one stray apple that rolled away from them both. She couldn’t for long however, not when he’d pushed her to the wall and held her by the soft skin of her cheek.

Her eyes, meeting his own. His legs lodged on either side of hers. His hand, digging into her waist like he wanted to bruise her, brand her, mark her as his.

She turned to look sideways, and seemed as though she was worried about people walking in on them in the dark, isolated corridor. He pulled her face harshly to meet his eye once more - Aemond knew that they’d all take the front entrance and not the back - they’d be left alone, if only for a little time.

He will have her today. He will have her if it’s the last thing he does.

He ran his fingers over her forehead, slowly bringing them down to trace her eye. Her eyelids shut immediately, and her breath hitched as he travelled further down and met her nose. He cannot stop now - he will not stop - and he got to her lips, fingers hovering over the outline. He felt the faint dampness from when she’d probably licked her lips not too long ago, and gasped.

It was all he could do to not slip those fingers inside.

Her eyes are locked with his one violet orb, and he looks into her as his fingers map out every little plane of her face. He felt his knees going weak as she held her own against his intense gaze, fire matching his as she refused to break contact with his eye. His voice was hoarse and it was almost painful to let the words out, but he knew that he’d explode if he did not.

“Do you… have any idea what you do to me?”

“Perhaps I will be better served if you tell me,” she whispered. There was no fear in her, he noticed. He may have seen her as his prey to claim, but it seemed that she was determined about keeping them both on equal footing. It only drives him toward her a lot more. His fingers travelled down to her chin, and made their featherlight way down her neck, moving as her throat bobbed while she gulped. When they reached her bosom, he watched as she audibly gasped, and wondered what other noises he could elicit from that pretty mouth.

“I have been driven mad with want. Sinful, uncouth thoughts that befit a lowly barbarian, rather than a prince. All because….” He gulped and her eyes still did not move away from his. He holds her chin to raise her face, while letting the other wander over her gown and fall on her clothed breast.

“Pride goes before a fall.” the High Septon’s faint voice reverberated through the dark corridor. Aemond is the blood of Valyria; closer to the Gods than men. With his unquestionable blood and status came a sense of pride that ensured that he’d never be looked down upon, pride that he’d never let go of. But tonight, he will. For her, he will. For he does not want to fall - he wants to fly high, higher and higher still with her. When he faced her, he realised that he would go on his knees in reverence if she asked.

“I’ve thought about you ever since I first saw you,” he said. His hands squeezed her breast as though he was testing out the action, and he saw how the back of her palm hit the wall and the other gripped his doublet, trying to find purchase as the faint pleasure shot through her.

“You… you are special. You are the Gods’ answer to all my prayers… You….” he took a long breath as he studied her face, looking for any signs of discomfort. “You…”

She raised her eyebrow as though she challenged him to continue, and he wondered if he should. He heard what he’d said, and it sounded no less than delusional - but how could it be wrong, if it felt so right?

“The Gods… they sent you to me.” My Goddess, he thought. “What do they want? What do you want?”

The hand on her breast continued to knead at her soft flesh through her clothes, and his other hand descended too as soon as he watched her lips part - but that wasn’t enough. He needed an answer. So he stopped his ministrations and asked again, stern voice giving way for nothing apart from what he wished to hear.

“What do you want from me?”

“I only want you,” she breathed out, her hands covering his as she caged them over her chest.

The Maiden had come to bless the earthly beings with her presence, with her love, and she wanted him. Wanting to wait no longer, his lips found hers.

The air crackled with an electric intensity as their lips met, desire and longing fueling the moment. His hands trembled slightly as they traced the curves of her face, fingers brushing against her soft skin with a reverence that bordered on worship.

Their kiss deepened, and he pulled her closer, his body pressed against hers, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat matching his own. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her as their tongues intertwined. The taste of her was intoxicating to Aemond - a heady blend of sweetness and fire that seared itself into his memory, branding him with a hunger he never knew existed.

Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into obscurity as they lost themselves in the intensity of their union. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and he reciprocated, as if afraid that she might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Every fibre of his being was consumed by her, by the intoxicating sensation of her lips on his, the soft sighs that escaped her, and the way her body moulded seamlessly against his.

He pushed them both towards the wall and let his hands rest on the stony surface, caging her. She leaned forward and caught his lips this time, letting her hands wander over the planes of his shoulders, his arms, his clothed chest. Aemond’s hand grasped at her neck and squeezed - enough to elicit a gasp from her, but not so much that she’d beg to not be choked to death.

Her hands snuck in through the hem of his doublet, fingertips grazing over the bare skin of his abdomen. If Aemond dropped dead right then, he would die a happy, blessed man. Blessed by a Goddess herself.

“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” the High Septon recited. He recognized the words from the Holy Book, and could not help but agree. As the taste of her lips consumed him and her touch left him in a mindless frenzy, he knew.

Her touch on his bare skin ignited a fire in him that already burned bright, and as he readied himself for more, the High Septon’s distant words echoed through the darkened corridors once more.

“Men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.”

And right then, a Prince of Valyrian blood, a man closer to the Gods than to men, kneeled. Just as the Seven preached kneeling down to the divine deities, he listened. Aemond was quick to hold her ankles and swiftly pull his hands up her legs, hiking her skirts up with each passing moment. The chill of the air around them hit her newly exposed skin instantly, as he made note of the gooseflesh that arose on her calves. He pushed his face forward to kiss her knees as his hands continued their way up, pulling her skirts all the way up to her hips and exposing her already drenched clothed cunt to him.

When his lips met the apex of her thighs, she let out a loud moan. Aemond was convinced right then, that pleasuring her was what he was put on the earth for. What better purpose can a man have, than to satisfy a Goddess amongst men?

As though they could not survive without each other’s touch any longer, her hands pulled at his hair - she wanted more, and he was all but a devoted soldier at her feet, giving her all that she wished for. He pulled her smallclothes down to her ankles, and parted her folds to bring her wet and wanting cunny to his line of sight.

He looked up to face her, and her heavy breathing and heaving chest filled him with energy beyond that which he was humanely capable of handling. His Goddess had perhaps blessed him already, but he would be amiss if he did not properly pay her his obeisance. She’d sensed what he intended to do almost immediately, and through her barely hidden lust and half lidded eyes, she murmured.

“Anyone could come. Anyone could see.”

“Let them.”

He pushed his head between her thighs and licked from her opening to her pearl, already drunk on the taste of her. She arched into him, and he took good care to tightly grip onto her thighs, keeping her and her skirts in place so they'd not disturb him. It would seem that his hot breath on her and his nose nudging her bud was enough to have her lose all sense of control and moan, and he relished in watching her let the pleasure take over her with each movement. He then sucked at her pearl diligently before fucking into her with his tongue once more and she pushed herself at him like she couldn't have enough.

“Those who indulge in sins of the flesh would be cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells.” The High Septon’s voice echoed through, but Aemond was far too gone, far too cuntstruck as he became addicted to the feeling of her pearl between his lips. Why would he be bothered about trudging through the Seven Hells, when the Seven Heavens were right here, between his beloved’s thighs?

He was sure he heard someone, but he was too in deep to care. He’s drowning in her; the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her and everything that makes her the Goddess that she is to him.

After all, how can he not? The Seven themselves had shined their light on her and sent her for him, had they not? The deeper he buried his tongue in her weeping cunny, the more the intoxicating smell of her engulfed him. And he let it. He’d let her take over him a hundred times over, for every lifetime that the Gods see fit to bless him with.

A thin streak of light escaped in and illuminated her thigh, and he heard her moan wantonly as his tongue continued its unrelenting assault. Her pretty sounds only served to drive him mad with want, and he pressed his nose into her bud as he continued to feast on her and pushed her against the wall with a hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her as she grinded against him.

Her hands tightened around his head and pulled at his spun-silver hair. Her cries of pleasure were the only sounds he heard as she toppled over the edge, her mind a haze as white hot pleasure coursed through her. Seven save him, Aemond was not a greedy man - but it was with greed that he did not let a single drop of her go to waste and continued to pleasure her through her peak as he lapped it all up. When he stood back up, he did so with a glistening chin, painted with her slick.

He knew very well from the moment he saw her, that if he touched her once, he’d never let go. What he had not anticipated was how little patience he’d have - for as soon as she recovered from her peak, he quickly freed his cock and sheathed himself in her in one swift thrust. Her thighs quivered in his hold and her hands flew to his shoulders, looking for purchase as she struggled to stand on her own - her knees seemed to have melted under his touch.

He lowered his head onto her shoulder, letting the feeling of her tight heat warm his length for a moment as he stilled. She clenched around him immediately and he mouthed a path of feather light kisses down her neck. Every bead of sweat was visible to him and he breathed it all in, following it with a firm lick up the skin that left her shivering under him. He let his hand rest and pull at the hair on the nape of her neck, cold from being dampened by sweat.

It would seem that his Goddess was as impatient for him as he was for her, and couldn’t wait for him to lay his claim on her. While he was content to stay buried to the hilt in her wet cunt for a while, he knew that they were risking it all - anyone could walk in at any moment, and they had to make it quick.

The thought of being caught out like this, buried inside of her, would usually shame him. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed - how could he? He’d let them all watch as he took her in all the ways a man could a woman before he let her go for fear of strangers. After all, dragons did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Especially not when it is a Goddess’ satisfaction that is at stake.

“Lives are like candle flames that can be snuffed out by an errant puff of wind,” the High Septon said, and he agreed instantly. If life was finite, if he could die today, wouldn’t it be prudent to take pleasure from a divine deity that presented herself to him, wet and wanting?

Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she breathed into him, her warm breath hitting his lip as he kissed her once more. She was as desperate as he was, pushing against him in search of pleasure - pleasure that only he could give her - was all the indication he needed as he began thrusting into her, hard and fast.

She let out a choked moan as he smiled against her lips, his own a sharp line that looked more arrogant than happy - as befitting a Targaryen Prince. She lowered her hands and let it slip under his doublet once more, letting her hands roam free over his back and planting her nails into the skin. Aemond was sure that red blood had bloomed where she’d dug into him, but the heat of her, her walls clenching around him were all that mattered.

He locked her in his tight hold - one hand pulling at her hair so she’d look at him while he fucked into her mercilessly, and another on the small of her back, fingers ghosting over the top of her backside - and she was caged in by him. He held her so tight, like he worried that she’d disappear if he loosened his hold even just a little. Their kisses were all tongue and teeth as he rutted into her, hitting her rough spot with each thrust. He groaned as her lips parted, a thin line of spittle between them as he lost himself in the feeling of her.

Her back hit the wall repeatedly and the heavy thuds were in tandem with the wet sounds of his cock in her cunt. Her heavy breaths, the tightening of her stomach, the touch that she sought out and all the sounds that she made, the ones that he'd never tire of hearing, were enough to drive him to madness.

Her hands roamed over all the bare skin she could find, and when he thrusted too harshly she would reward him with blood red crescent-moon cuts with the tips of her nails. “I have… waited… for so long…” Aemond panted, his words punctuating each push into her. “Imagined having you like this, tight and warm around me,” he grunted.

She let out a choked moan, followed by her fastening her legs around him as he lifted her up and continued to let her know how much he desired her.

“Fucked into my fist each night to the thought of you… Wrong, so wrong…” he growled, and his hands quickly went up to her chest and pulled her neckline down, freeing her breasts. He kneaded at the flesh and marvelled in how perfectly they fit in his palms, almost as though they were made for him to have and hold. With each touch, he felt the heel of her feet press into the small of his back through his clothes. Nudging him, taunting him, driving him mad.

“Want you so much, you’re mine…Issa jaesa.” [My Goddess]

Every declaration was accompanied by a rough thrust and he felt hot pleasure blooming in his lower abdomen. But he wasn’t ready, not quite yet. Not if she wasn’t. He needed her to peak with him and truly join him as one. He needed there to be indisputable proof that she was his. The thought of her spending the day with his white hot spend running and drying down her thighs was what pushed him to circle her nub with his long finger and thrust animalistically into her, coaxing moans and a blooming warmth in her belly.

“Yours, my prince. Only yours…” she murmured in between gasps, and she peaked immediately after. He was powerless as she clenched tightly around him, and in a few slow yet definitive thrusts, his release came soon after.

Looking in between their joined bodies, he ran his hand up her stomach and held onto her sweat-coated breast. No sight in the world had ever been so divine.

“Death is never far in this world, and seven hells await sinners…” the High Septon’s voice said as he finished his sermon. Having just found his life’s greatest pleasure in her, he found that he did not mind the Holy man’s words.

He may be a Valyrian prince closer to God to others, but in front of her, he was only a man. And what power does a man have against a sinful temptress like her? How was he to possibly stay away? If this is how good sin felt, then Aemond realised that he would not mind being left to rot in the Seven Hells if he would be allowed the memory of her in his mind, heart and soul for eternity. It would be enough to keep him alive in the land of the undead.

He stayed buried in her until he softened once more, his hand twirling a dampened stray curl on her neck as he continued to knead at her breast and roll the soft nipple with the other. His soft kisses on her neck were only made better by her tired breaths, and he bit into her neck quickly before he let go.

He missed the warmth of her touch immediately as he pushed his cock back into his trousers, and corrected himself to make himself presentable once more. When he caught a glimpse of the stray hair on his shoulders, he looked around to find his leather hair tie - only for her closed fist to reach out to him. He opened his palm and she let the hairtie fall onto his hand, and he smirked at the normalcy of the action.

After he set his hair in place, he clutched his hands behind his back as he watched her correct her sleeves and smooth down the skirts of her worn-out dress. She smiled at him when she was done with her clothes and put a hand in her hair to tame it, and with her mischievous yet charming grin, she healed all the scars in him that she had not caused.

When she was done, he found the stray apple that had rolled away from her basket and put it in with the rest. He handed it to her and could not resist letting his hand push away the fine hairs that stuck to her forehead. When he finished, he kissed her well, and he kissed her true - no trace of the roughness with which he’d taken her only moments ago, a soft reminder of his claim to her that he'd just staked.

Their foreheads met and he held her by the back of her head, and he smirked as he heard his Goddess speak once more.

“Will you come to me again?”

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queers-gambit · 11 months

Text

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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fastlikealambo · 2 months

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The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you.

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, Alicent and Haelena were sent to Oldtown, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit.

Some other notes: This is dark, Rhaenyra is in her Paul Atreides era, and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties.

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

This is a rough teaser chapter to see if there’s any interest in this fic so if you like it please reblog it or leave a comment! Feedback is how I write :)

Chapter One: the fate of a flea.

“I heard she fed her husband to Syrax!”

“I heard she burned the last two wives!”

“She's going to choose me, there’s no doubting that.”

“ Yeah, to be her cupbearer!”

You tried to block out the chatter of your employer and her daughters and concentrate on mending one of their hems, but each bump from your place on the floor of the rickety carriage, made it near impossible.

“Hurry up Flea, we’re almost there!” One of the daughters said, her slipper meeting your ribs to make you go faster but you dared not complain.

You would have been there an hour ago but the decision to take the carriage was not your own. You would have much preferred to watch the dragons arrive with your mother in the market, far from the crowds that propelled them towards The Red Keep.

You needed the coin and being some rich lady’s maid who couldn’t afford the proper ones with training but could afford you instead kept good bread on the table.

Or at least it did.

The Lady hadn’t paid you in two weeks.

“Remember to smile when you’re presented before the Queen, smile and be silent. Perhaps if you do well, she’ll want two wives instead of one and we’ll never have to rewear a gown again. New gowns and maids who actually know what they’re doing.” The Lady said and you didn’t have to lift your gaze to know she was staring at you.

“Don’t worry Flea, you’ll have a place in the dragon queen’s court. We’ll put in a good word with the ratcatcher!”

All three of them exploded with laughter at that and when the carriage came to a sudden stop you were too happy to watch them slide all over the carriage.

“I’m sorry mistress, this is as far as I can go.” The driver said.

The daughters adjusted themselves before leaving the carriage, ignoring their mother’s calls to wait for her,

It was now or never.

“My lady, I need to speak with you.”

“You’ll stay in the carriage, the queen need not see you.” The Lady said, starting to move towards the door.

“My lady, you have not paid me. I have waited and waited and happily assisted with all the preparations but I cannot go home without coin today. Please, my mother needs me, I’ll take half if you have that right now but we have no more bread.” You said quietly but firmly.

“You haven’t earned your pay for the full day yet so we’ll discuss this no further.”

“My lady, my mother is-

“Your mother will have to make do as the rest of the smallfolk do. Perhaps she can have that bowl of brown I always hear about. I’m sure she’ll-

You’re not quite sure what happened next but it ended with The Lady dead on the carriage floor, her neck at an odd angle, face bloody and concaved.

You sank to the floor beside your dead employer, your fearful cries went unheard as the sound of Syrax’s roar filled the air around King’s Landing.

Queen Rhaenyra had arrived.

Her daughters would see you dead for this, your mother would starve, your life was lost.

Unless it wasn’t.

As luck or the gods would have it, The Lady bled into her own hair and not a single drop had spilled on the crimson colored gown.

It seems you have time to finish the hems after all.

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria. Why should you sit by her side?”

The same question had been asked of every lady in front of you who entered the throne room and each dismissed moments later either by Princess Rhaenys, the Hand of The Queen or Queen Rhaenyra herself. You could not bring yourself to look at the queen each time the doors opened and closed, a single glance in her direction would bring you to further ruin.

Both The Lady’s daughters could not see you but you could see them each leave the throne room in tears.

A chance to be queen would not be the only thing they would mourn today.

The doors opened and you found yourself escorted into the throne room.

You looked at the dragon queen in all her beauty and might upon the Iron Throne and instantly it all became clear.

You would not leave this room in tears.

“I wish to be anointed.”

the story continues here.

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x black!reader #rhaenyra targaryen x you #yandere rhaenyra targaryen

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thesithdiaries · 2 months

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Prisoner (Part 3; FINALE)

Set: Middle of season 1 to beginning of season 2

Pairing: (kind of) Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon female!reader, (platonic) overprotective!Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon female!reader

Warnings: typical westori violence, curse words/spoilers for both seasons but especially season 2, everyone being absolutely stupid, conversations about characters that were offed, major character death, talks of forced marriage, being made prisoner, bruises, scrapes, minor talk about weight and not eating

Plot: One of Viserys Targaryen’s final wishes was to see them married. To please him, Rhaenyra allowed her daughter to stay in the Red Keep alone, not knowing it would be a terrible mistake.

(Part 1) ; (Part 2)

“Get up!”

A rough voice boomed through the quiet chamber. You jolted awake, disoriented. As you tried to rub your eyes, you saw multiple Kingsguards entering in haste. “What’s happening?” Instead of answering, the knight grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. “What is the meaning of this? You’re hurting me!”

They rushed you to the Throne Room, and without a second thought, the knight pushed you, prompting you to fall to your knees, grimacing at the sting of the cold floor.

“You!” You lifted your head and saw Aegon. “This was your doing!”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking at Alicent and Otto, who stood next to Aegon. “I-I have no-”

“You killed my son,” Aegon growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at you. “You had him murdered in cold blood. Now I will do the same to you.”

“I would never hurt Jaehaerys,” You managed to say before Aegon took a step toward you.

“Son…” Alicent warned, noticing your appearance. Your skin was gray and lifeless, cheeks sunken, and eyes red.

“Perhaps we should let her speak,” Otto suggested, motioning for you to continue.

“I do not know what you’re talking about. I have been in my chambers all day, the one I have been locked in,” you reminded him.

“Liar. You did this as revenge because we are keeping you here.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Jasper interrupted, “the princess has not been seen leaving her chambers. There are guards in front of the door at all times.”

Deep down, Alicent knew you were innocent. You could not have done something like this.

“Take her away,” Aegon ordered the Kingsguard, annoyed. The knight grabbed your arm and pulled you up, dragging you from the room. Your whines of pain echoed through the hall.

---

“My daughter sits captive in the Red Keep. Did you consider her while you schemed for revenge?” Rhaenyra interrogated Daemon.

He sat there, rather annoyed. “Yes. Unfortunately, I could not get her myself.”

“Did you think it would be easier to rescue her while they dealt with a dead child?”

“At least I did something,” Daemon argued back. “What have you done? You left for days, searching for Luke, while she remained a prisoner in King’s Landing after you decided to leave her there, unprotected and surrounded by our enemies. Why not ask Rhaenys or Ser Erryk why they left her behind?”

Rhaenyra scoffed, “How dare you.”

“She is also my daughter,” Daemon reminded her, “and I will stop at nothing to bring her back to Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys stood outside the chambers, listening to their argument. The guilt felt asphyxiating. His brother was gone because he volunteered them as envoys. His sister was a prisoner because he did not fight hard enough to make her leave with them after dinner.

“I cannot trust you, Daemon,” he heard Rhaenyra say. “You sent two assassins to slay a child. How can I trust you with her safety?”

At that moment, Jace made a decision. He would go to King’s Landing to bring her back.

He sped through the castle, gripping the hilt of his sword. Vermax would have to stay behind if Vhagar was guarding the city; he could not risk losing his dragon. If he did, his mother’s side would lose a valuable asset, and his sister would also suffer.

Jacaerys ran down the stairs, seeing a Velaryon ship in the harbor. Surely, someone on it would help him reach King’s Landing by nightfall. He saw many knights and servants walking up the path. More allies, he thought.

A weak grip on his arm stopped him.

His heart beat erratically as he recognized the person in front of him.

“Sister,” Jace gasped, his eyes darkening at your state. “What did they do to you?” He softly caressed your cheek.

Jacaerys hastily lifted you, not entirely convinced you could walk up to the castle on your own. You laid your head on his chest, tears of relief flowing down your cheeks. You were finally home.

“Your Grace!” Elinda, Rhaenyra’s loyal handmaiden, called out. “The princess has returned.”

Rhaenyra stumbled into your chambers, seeing Maester Gerardys tending to you. “My sweet girl.”

“Mother,” you whined.

“How is she?” Daemon asked.

“There are no notable injuries, apart from a bruised arm and scraped knees. She has noticeable weight loss. I will prepare a remedy for the princess myself,” Gerardys bowed and exited in haste.

Rhaenyra made her way to the bed, sitting next to you and cradling your face. “I am so sorry.”

You closed her eyes, happy to feel your mother’s warm and soft hands. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I wanted to return to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra assured you. “But some things happened here, forcing me to stay.”

Jace stood at the foot of the bed, while Daemon stood next to Rhaenyra. “How did you get out of the Keep?”

“A man helped me,” you informed them, furrowing your brows.

After being forcefully taken to and from the throne room, you sat at the edge of your bed, wondering what had happened to Prince Jaehaerys.

The door burst open, startling you. “Come on, Princess. We need to hurry.”

It was a strange man, someone you hadn’t met before. “Who ar—”

“We do not have much time,” he urged. “Prince Daemon sent me. Put on this cloak.”

You perked up at the mention of your stepfather. Ignoring the ache in your bones and stomach, you got off the bed and put on the cloak.

You ran out of the living quarters, moving through hidden passages. Before you realized it, you were outside the Keep. The man stopped, not too far from the castle, to meet with someone else. “Are you sure this is her?”

“Yes. Go on, get out of the city.”

“Come, princess.”

As you reached a small boat away from the harbor, you noticed the man was carrying a sack... a leaking sack. “What is that?, you questioned him, but he did not provide an answer. “What. Is. That?”

“Nothing,” the man hissed, holding the sack tighter.

“It’s leaking,” you informed him.

“Be quiet.”

You sat on the boat next to a sailor. As the man was about to get on, Gold Cloaks stopped him. They ripped the sack from his hand and opened it. Screams echoed through the night, and swords were pointed at him.

The sailor began rowing, wanting to get some distance before they noticed who you were. The knights grabbed the man, paying no attention to the boat. Your heart sank as you realized what was in the sack.

“Was it your doing?” You asked Rhaenyra.

“It was an accident,” Daemon replied instead. “I instructed them to find Aemond, not Jaehaerys.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jace murmured, and you shook her head.

“A Kingsguard held my arm tightly when Aegon demanded to see me, that’s the reason for my bruises,” you admitted. “I was locked in my quarters. I only saw a maid and Alicent. She… she told me about Luke.”

At the Red Keep, Aemond had decided it was time to finally face his future wife. But his plan was spoiled.

You were gone.

“How did that bitch princess leave? Where was the knight in charge of her?” Aegon fumed at the continued lack of security.

Aemond, however, was furious. In a fit of rage, he destroyed everything in his path.

You were supposed to stay there, forever, with him. He regretted not having you confined in Maegor’s Holdfast.

All he wished to do was fly to Dragonstone and have Vhagar burn it to the ground. But now, he’d have to be strategic about how to get you back to his side.

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 2 months

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Devil's Snare part.5

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Description: Aemond introduces Y/N to his mother as his betrothed, much to the displeasure of Otto Hightower. The strength of their love for one another is tested by the whispers which spread throughout the court of the one-eyed Prince and his strange choice to wed his handmaiden. All the while, Aemond is insistent that Y/N meet Vhagar.

Previous part

Writer's note: I am so sorry this took so long! I had major writer's block and overthought the hell out of it. Its giving "started making it, had a breakdown, bon appetit" for the people who get that reference 😂. Also wanted to avoid HOTD content when the leaks happened. We finally get the wedding in this part so shout out to @ateliefloresdaprimavera this one's for you! Unsure whether you guys want this to continue into the dance of dragons plot, I might need to diverge from canon. I thought I'd do a Lord of the Tides part next as a test run.

Warnings: female reader, canon typical misogyny, slut shaming, Granny Vhagar (in the flesh this time), sexual innuendo but no smut (sorry, I just don't read it so don't think I could write it well), lengthy as always.

Y/N felt nervous butterflies fluttering against her ribcage as Aemond led her along the halls of the Red Keep to his mother's chambers, grounded only by the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. It was all she could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, so anxious was she of the Queen's response to her son's decision to marry her, a mere handmaiden. But she could not bear to hold Aemond back any longer, not when his face glowed with such happiness. Besides, she did not think he'd allow her to go back on her word now she'd promised herself to him. He'd all but taken her breath away with the force with which he'd kissed her and grabbed her hand to pull her from his chambers almost immediately afterwards in his eagerness. She'd subconsciously halted where she stood, her thoughts panicked and frenzied as she realised the weight of her words and that Aemond really meant to waste no more time in informing his mother, the Queen herself. Aemond, however, was all too impatient to marry the girl he loved.

Stopping as he felt her hand go limp in his he turned to her, assessing the panic on her face. Suddenly taking hold of her waist, he pulled her against him so that their bodies seemed to melt into one another, causing Y/N to blush a furious shade of scarlet as she felt the contours of his body against hers. Aemond smirked, always pleased he was able to have such an affect over her. "I'm afraid my patience has been entirely spent, my love. I can tarry no longer in making you my wife. I will carry you to my mother's chambers if I must." His hand tightened around her waist, not enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp as she realised he may actually be serious. Strengthening her grip on his hand, she stuttered out a semblance of a response. "That will not be necessary, My Prince." Aemond's eyebrows shot up at that. "I am no longer just Aemond to you?"

Y/N's blush deepened at her blunder, hoping she hadn't offended him in her state of nervousness. "I am sorry, my love. It just slipped out."

Aemond's face softened and he lightly trailed a hand across her face. "You have not called me that before." Y/N realised he was right. Aemond was so free with his affections, with terms of endearment, but this seemed to be the last layer of intimacy she had struggled to breakthrough. Y/N looked down, somewhat ashamed that she had been so slow to offer Aemond the love he gave so freely in return, feeling strongly that she did not deserve him. Her chin was tilted upwards by a gentle hand as Aemond brushed his lips against hers, the ghost of a kiss. "It matters not what you call me, only call me yours and I should be content." Y/N felt such a strong surge of love for Aemond in that moment, in light of his understanding of her difficulty expressing affection and his unfaltering patience with her nonetheless. She felt her nerves dissipate a little, and grabbing his hand more resolutely she led them from his chambers herself.

Aemond had been pleased Y/N had gone willingly, he had not been jesting when he told her he'd carry her to his mother's chambers. He knew that she loved him and it was only the opinions of others that concerned her, and Aemond could no longer allow such unfounded fears to delay their union. He wanted her and by the grace of the Seven she wanted him too. That was all that mattered to him now, and he was prepared to fight for the girl he loved, from any opposition they may face. Aemond strode purposefully towards his mother's chambers, having no care for the lateness of the evening, but slowed as he felt Y/N's grip loosen oncemore, looking back to see her tailing behind him. Sighing, he lowered his torso to meet her eyes. "Y/N I will put you over my shoulder. Unless you have decided you will not have me after all?" He hated the tinge of insecurity that laced his voice.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with alarm. "That is not what I want. I wish to be your wife. I am only frightened of meeting your mother."

Aemond took hold of her elbows. "I assure you there is nothing to fear. She will love you in time as I do. I will not allow anyone to come between us."

"You sound so certain."

Aemond shot Y/N a roguish grin. "You can depend upon it. Come now." Reclaiming her hand he pulled them down the final corridor which led to his mother's chambers, addressing his mother's sworn protector before they'd even reached the end of the hall. "Ser Criston, I would speak with my mother."

Ser Criston's eyebrows pulled into a confused frown as his eyes flitted between the Prince's serious expression and the hand which clasped his handmaiden's. "The hour is late, my prince. Her grace is presently engaged with the Hand of the King."

Aemond startled slightly before schooling his features into a mask of calm, not wishing to alarm Y/N any more. He had not expected to contend with both his mother and Otto Hightower this night, but it mattered little. He had no intention of backing down on the matter of his marriage to Y/N, whatever the opposition.

"It is no matter Cole, my mother will be gladdened by the news I bring her."

Aemond was not certain of this fact, but he assumed an air of self-assurance nonetheless as he released Y/N's hand to pat Criston on the shoulder, pushing the door to his mother's chambers open.

His mother's eyes snapped up to him as he entered, Y/N shuffling in behind him whilst lightly clutching onto his tunic. He discreetly reached behind him to take hold of her free hand, hoping to provide her some degree of comfort. His mother looked flushed as if she had just been shouting and his good eye immediately sought out the object of her distress, landing on his grandsire Otto whose expression was one of irritation. Aemond narrowed his eyes at the scene before him, clearly he had interrupted an argument. He loved his mother and had never forgotten how she had been the only one to speak up for him and defend him on driftmark when he had lost his eye. Fixing Otto with a stern glare he returned his gaze to his mother. "Mother, I wish to introduce you to my betrothed. I have asked Y/N to marry me and, happily, she has agreed to become my wife." Aemond spoke with finality, he would not prevaricate or draw this out any longer than he needed to. An eery silence followed for an agonisingly long time before Alicent rose to meet Aemond, hands reaching out towards him. He regretfully released Y/N's hand to take his mother's proferred hands. She spoke softly as if to a young child who needed to be coaxed away from doing something dangerous. "Aemond, she is your handmaiden."

"She was my handmaiden, she is my lady now."

Alicent shook her head and closed her eyes, as if when she opened them again the image of Aemond and his handmaiden would only have been a figment of her imaginings. When she opened them and observed her son's determined expression, she blanched. "Aemond, you cannot mean to marry a servant. You are a Prince of the realm and you know it is your duty to marry for the benefit of the crown. I'm sure your handmaiden is lovely, but she is not a suitable marriage prospect."

Aemond's own tone sharpened. He misliked his mother talking as if Y/N was not standing right behind him, her own hand tightening on his tunic.

"Mother, I did not come to argue with you. The matter is settled. I love her and will marry no other. Would you deny me this happiness I have been fortunate enough to find, after all I have lost?" Aemond began to hope his mother was losing her resolve as her eyes softened, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek. But it was at that moment that Otto hightower broke his silence. "Will you truly entertain this nonsense Alicent?"

Then turning to Aemond, "Are you so foolish boy? Or have you got the girl with child? There are other ways of dealing with this than sullying your title with a marriage to a low born girl." Alicnet had to push against Aemond's chest as his face contorted in anger, taking a step forward towards his grandsire. He practically snarled in response. "I will not suffer insults to my betrothed or allow you to taint her honour with your vile assumptions."

Otto's anger only rose to match Aemond's as he shouted back at him. "It would be an embarasment for your family, for your House, for the crown itself. Do you care for nothing but your own base desires, boy?"

Aemond's voice was dangerously low and seething. "My love for Y/N is pure, there is nothing base about it. I'll thank you to watch your words, grandsire. I intend to serve my House dutifully with Y/N at my side. Am I not our House's strongest sword? Do I not ride the largest and most ancient dragon in the world?"

Seemingly writing Aemond off as a lost cause, he looked around the Prince to the girl cowering behind him. Perhaps she might be swayed to sense.

"Girl, you must know that this would be a disastrous match for the realm. I am sure you must feel something for the Prince. Would you not then see him ascend to his rightful position and marry for the good of the realm?

The girl's face turned disconsolate. Aemond lost his composure entirely, brushing past his mother and advancing on his grandsire, each word laced with venom. "Do not speak to her as if she were just an object to be dispensed with when it is no longer of use."

Otto's eyes flitted back to the girl, ignoring his nephew's attempts at intimidation. He was sure Ser Criston would intervene if it came to violence.

"What will you take to renounce this farcical pact? A girl like you should want for security, the path you tread will offer you only strife and judgement. Will you take coin, jewels, an elevated position perhaps?"

He watched his nephew's reaction closely for any sign he would strike, coiled as he was like a viper.

Instead, he saw his nephew's face crumple and his good eye widen. Mayhaps he feared the girl would take him up on his offer.

Looking back to the girl, Otto was startled by the fierceness of the glare she now levelled at him. She'd only seemed a timid creature moments before, easily malleable to his will. She took determined steps forward until she stood next to Aemond, taking his hand in hers. Looking steadfastly up at Otto, she spoke for the first time with an air of confidence he had not expected from her. "I love Prince Aemond and I will not abandon him, whatever you offer me." His nephew's face softened as he gazed down at the girl, perhaps he had not expected such a reaction from her either. Before Otto could incite Aemond enough to strike him, Alicent intervened. "Aemond, we will discuss this further tomorrow. I will have separate chambers prepared for Y/N. She cannot be permitted to continue in service as your handmaiden if these are your wishes. It would continue to raise questions." Alicent knew her son. He was determined and unlike to make a vow he did not mean.

Aemond smiled at his mother, pleased by her softened resolve, though she still looked unconvinced. "Very well Mother, thank you. I will see you on the morrow." Lightly pulling Y/N with him he quickly strode from the room, not stopping until they had passed along several hallways and were far from his mother's chambers. Halting without warning, Y/N almost bumped into him before he caught her, wrapping her up in his arms and leaning his head down to rest against her shoulder.

"Thank you, my brave girl."

Aemond had felt a deeper scar than the one he bore upon his face begin to heal over as Y/N had affirmed her love for him, standing up to the Hand of the King himself to remain at his side. He could not put into words how much her actions had meant to him, knowing how difficult it must have been for her to do so. He cursed himself for believing, just for a moment, there was a possibility of Y/N taking Otto up on one of his sordid offers, so used was he to being the second choice as the second son, and even then it was only Rhaenyra his father truly cared for. He knew how inherently good Y/N was, how she returned his love, and decided his faith would never falter again. Releasing his hold on her he slid his hand down her arm before interlocking their hands. "Come, I will walk you back to the servant's quarters for tonight. Tomorrow you will have more adequate chambers fit for a princess."

Y/N lightly swatted at Aemond's chest. "Aemond, it would scare the servant's half to death for a Prince to show up unannounced at this hour. Rumours will run rife. And I am no princess."

"I do not care, my love I wish to walk my betrothed safely to her door. Besides, you shall be my princess shortly and I wish you to be treated as such. I would shower you with jewels if you would allow it."

Y/N blushed, looking down at the ground. "I have no need of extravagant gifts, Aemond. You know I have always managed quite well with my room in the Keep and with less before that."

Aemond frowned, his heart dropping at the thought of the hardships Y/N must have faced whilst his every need was tended to in the Keep. "I do not like to think of you suffering any deprivation." Y/N squeezed his hand comfortingly. "It was not so bad, I was very lucky to secure a position in the crown's service at a young age."

Aemond tucked a tendril of hair behind Y/N's ear, smiling softly at her and humming as if in thought. "Well, if you will not take jewels, I will need to find another way to express my adoration for you, little one."

Aemond made good on his promise, and everyday a squire would arrive at Y/N's newly appointed chambers to deliver a bouquet of bluebells to her door. Y/N had no idea how Aemond was managing to get hold of so many bluebells, aware as she was that they did not grow within the grounds of Kings Landing, but she adored them and her heart fluttered at the Prince's thoughtfulness. He had heeded her previous rejection of jewels, but he sent her gifts he thought would be more acceptable to her instead; books he thought she might like to read, as thanks to him and Helaena this had become a favourite past time of hers, new gowns in the colours of his House, which made the prospect of their marriage feel more real to her, that she really would be his lady. But it was the flowers that made her feel closer to him as her abrupt change of circumstances meant she could no longer spend time with him alone in his chambers, and she missed him when he was attending to his duties during the day.

She would have been bored out of her mind if not for the company of Helaena who was only too happy to receive her as a sister. She spent the better part of her days in Helaena's chambers, either playing with the little Prince Jahaerys and his sister Princess Jahaera, or discussing her upcoming nuptials with the Princess Helaena. Aemond came to see her at least once a day when it was permitted in his sister's chambers, or she would come to watch him in the training yard. But she misliked the stares she received and found herself seeing Aemond less and less as a result. The Queen had tentatively consented to her marriage with Aemond, despite the Hand's open distate, but she had not spoken to Y/N since. She was all too aware how the Queen and her father saw her as a burden to the Prince, to House Targaryen. As such, the wedding was set to be a small affair, which suited Y/N's shy nature. Though she did hope that in time she might be able to bond with the Queen if she truly saw how happy she and Aemond were together. What mother would not wish their son to be happy?

Rounding a corridor on the way to Helaena's chambers, Y/N heard giggles and muffled whispers, halting in her tracks as she heard the repeated refrain of Aemond's name.

"The Prince Aemond...marrying his handmaiden."

"With child, surely?"

"It is a wonder she is not frightened of him with that scar."

"I could not do it."

"Perhaps no other ladies of the court could stand it?"

She struggled to discern the nature of the conversation between the three ladies of the court, only picking out bits and pieces at first. But when she pieced it together she felt her blood heat as outrage rose up within her.

Before she could think through her actions, Y/N stepped out from behind the wall which concealed her and stormed towards the three ladies who glanced up at the heavy tread of her steps. "You should not speak of the Prince in such a manner. Have you no shame, no respect for the Crown?" The lady closest to her scowled, shifting her raven hair over her shoulders as she upturned her nose at Y/N. "Who are you to presume you can dictate what we should or should not discuss? This is a private conversation."

Y/N was sure she must resemble Vhagar, though she'd never seen the she-dragon, with her own flames pouring forth from her in the form of her heated cheeks. "I am the Prince Aemond's betrothed you speak of. I will not allow you to sully the Prince's name with your false rumours or distasteful remarks about the scar he bears through no fault of his own." The raven haired lady's tone turned mocking then. "So you are the handmaiden then? How dare you talk to your betters this way? Know your place girl."

Y/N's fists clenched unconsciously. "My place is beside the Prince, or defending him from ignorant people like you who would insult him over something entirely out of his control. I must refute your cruel assumptions. The Prince is a noble warrior, a fierce dragon rider, and a dedicated scholar, deserving of your respect. Greater still, he is kind and a gentleman, and I do not fear him in the slightest. Any lady would be lucky to receive his affections and it is my good fortune that he has decided to bestow them on me, though I am but a lowly handmaiden as you say. This only speaks more to his character, that he is able to see past the physical appearance of things, unlike certain members of this court."

Chest heaving, her breath coming in short pants as she finished her tirade, Y/N glared at the three ladies, daring them to speak another word against Aemond.

The raven haired girl took a step towards her, a clear attempt at intimidation. "Be careful girl. You are not wed yet. Who knows how long you will have Prince Aemond's favour. The love of a Prince is a fickle, fleeting thing." When Y/N only continue to scorch her with her glare, the three ladies stalked away. Y/N could feel herself still trembling slightly in her anger at the insults levelled at Aemond. She had never stood up to anyone, her naturally timid nature and status as a servant did not lend themselves to such agency. Though she felt a sense of satisfaction in having done so in defence of the man she loved.

Alicent Hightower had been making her way to her daughter's chambers when she came across the odd sight of the girl, Y/N, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice to three ladies of the court. Shocked at first that she should be so brazen, she stepped forward to intervene, quickly relenting once she approached close enough to hear the nature of the girl's tirade. Instead, the Queen felt her heart warming to the girl as she heard her passionate defence of her son, beginning to understand the depth of Aemond's feelings for the girl. No one save herself had ever defended him so steadfastly. And Alicent could admit that even she had been somewhat lax in expressing her affections for Aemond. This girl clearly loved her son, unconditionally so, and Alicent could not but help to feel grateful to her for this fact. She loved all of her children and wanted them to feel safe and loved. The King barely took note of Aemond, no matter how hard he tried to embody the traits of a true Targaryen, whilst he revered Rhaenyra's plain featured bastards. It was an insult to all decency. In that moment, Alicent resolved to accept this marriage fully and try to bond with the girl, Y/N she reminded herself. Aemond deserved to be loved and she would defend his right to marry the girl should her father or husband express any further opposition.

Aemond was surprised to be summoned to his mother's chambers that evening, she spent the greater portion of her time with Helaena and rarely sent for him. Though he often wished she would show him more affectation as his mother. He grew concerned she wished to talk him out of his engagement with Y/N, already having tentatively expressed her apprehension to the match to no avail. He would not hear anymore on the matter if that were the case.

"Prince Aemond, your grace."

"Thank you Ser Criston."

Aemond entered his mother's chambers as Cole announced him, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind his back.

Hi mother waited until Cole had shut the door behind him before taking both his hands in her own. "I wish to talk to you on Y/N, Aemond."

"Mother..."

"No, let me speak my peace. I wish only to tell you that I approve of your marriage to the girl and give you my blessing. I will defend your choice alongside you should the need arise again. Though I believe your grandsire has written it off as a lost cause and you well know your father's condition."

Aemond squeezed his mother's hands, hardly believing such a change could have come about so suddenly. "I thank you, Mother. May I ask what has prompted you to change your opinion on Y/N?"

Aemond felt the love he had always wished for from his mother as she smiled warmly up at him. "You'll be pleased to know your betrothed is not so timid as she seems. I came across her defending you quite passionately against three members of the court today. She would hear no insult to your name or your intentions towards her, and made her love and respect for you abundantly clear to the three ladies...and to myself. I confess myself greatly moved by her love for my son."

Aemond felt pride rise within him at Y/N's defence of him and his love grow for her if that were even possible. Taking his mother's hand to place a kiss upon her knuckles, he released her to go and thank his lady. "My heart is gladdened to hear of it mother, and grateful for the affect it has had upon your own. I will bid you goodnight now."

Y/N jumped at the sound of a knock at her chamber door. The hour was late and she had been preparing for bed. She was not entirely certain she should be opening the door in her night dress at this hour but did not wish to be rude if it were a matter of importance, a summons from the Queen herself even. Y/N had barely taken the lock of the latch and opened the door before she was unceremoniously crushed to Aemond's chest, shrieking as she was lifted into the air and spun until her back met the door as he quickly swung it closed, shushing her as he did so. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck reflexively, though she knew he would not drop her. "Aemond what in the Seven..?"

Aemond silenced her with a kiss that took her breath away as he continued to hold her against his body. Melting into his kiss, Y/N tangled her hands in his hair, not caring anymore for the abruptness of his greeting. Pulling away so they could catch their breath, Aemond gently set her down though he kept a hold on her waist. To Y/N, his face looked ethereal in the soft glow of the candle light as he smiled at her.

"I apologise for startling you, my love. I did not wish anyone to see me enter given the lateness of the hour."

Y/N was half dazed by Aemond's proximity and the tingling sensation on her lips from when he'd kissed her, but she willed herself not to just stand gaping at him. "And what brings you to my chambers at this hour?" Her tone was light and teasing. She had missed him and was glad he'd come to see her whatever his reason.

Aemond stepped closer towards Y/N before bringing his lips to her jaw. Y/N gasped softly, but pulled him closer to her instinctively as he kissed down her jaw and spoke against her skin. "I came to thank you for defending me. My mother spoke of it to me."

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as Aemond began to kiss her neck but tried to maintain a degree of composure to respond to him. She had not been aware of the Queen's presence at the time. "I did not like to hear others speak badly of you. They do not know you as I do." Y/N lifted a hand to stroke his hair as Aemond hummed in response, planting a kiss against her clavicle just above the neckline of her night gown. Her eyes flew open as she realised for the first time that she was, in fact, only in her night gown and the situation was less than appropriate. Pushing Aemond back slightly by his shoulders she tried to keep her voice quiet so as not to alert anyone who might pass by to Aemond's presence in her chambers. "Aemond, I'm only in my night gown!"

Aemond looked confused that she had only just realised this. "I'm well aware, you look beautiful."

Y/N blushed scarlet. "That's not what I meant. But if we're seen together like this, people will think..." She trailed off, hoping Aemond would understand her concerns without her having to spell it out.

Aemond grinned at her. "I only wished to thank my lady for defending my honour. Having done so I shall depart forthwith. I will be discreet." He took Y/N's hand and pulled her with him as he quietly opened the chamber door, glancing around for any signs of movement. Quickly turning to bid his lady goodnight with a final peck on the lips, he shut the door behind him and hurried back to his own chambers, unable to contain his smile as the image of Y/N's flushed cheeks and hair mussed from his ministrations swam in his mind.

Y/N shivered as a cold breeze blew through the courtyard of the Red Keep, blowing whisps of hair into her eyes, which she quickly brushed away. Aemond had asked her to meet him that morning for she knew not what, but the presence of the horse being saddled by a young squire by the steps of the Keep entrance concerned her somewhat.

"Y/N"

At the sound of her voice she looked up to see Aemond taking the steps three at a time to meet her, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist to kiss her as he reached the bottom.

"Good morning, my love" He pulled back to smile at her, the biting cold of the crisp morning seemingly having no affect on his mood. She supposed the blood of the dragon spared him.

Placing a hand against his chest she realised she was right as heat seemed to radiate from him whilst she stood there shivering. "Good morning, Aemond."

Taking hold of the hand that was on his chest in both of his, Aemond began rubbing his hands up and down hers "Your hands are cold. We should head off while the skies remain clear." With that he began pulling her towards the horse, just as she'd feared. She'd never ridden before and could foresee embarassment just at the thought of mounting the horse. "And where are we going, Aemond?"

Without stopping Aemond called back to her over his shoulder. "To visit Vhagar. It is important to me that you become acquainted." Y/N blanched, she'd expressed her interest in dragons early on to Aemond, they were almost like gods to her, but also her fear of them...and Vhagar was the largest and fiercest of them all. Aemond had taken to mentioning Vhagar with increasing regularity to her and she should have realised this was inevitable. His grip on her hand was tight and carried with it a sense of finality. Sighing and accepting her fate, hoping the dragon wouldn't cook her on sight, she asked the other question that was on her mind.

"Why do we have need of a horse to see your dragon? The dragon pit is within walking distance, is it not?"

"Vhagar is too large for the dragon pit. She resides on the outskirts of the city."

Y/N gulped. Aemond was always so nonchalant about his fearsome dragon, as if she were a friend to him rather than a fire breathing beast. She could not be so calm about the danger.

As Aemond released her hand to take the reigns of the horse from the squire, she looked sceptically at the saddle. Before she could make a disastrous attempt at mounting the horse, warm hands lifted her by the waist onto its back. Aemond followed swiftly, positioning himself behind her.

Y/N blushed as Aemond reach around her to take the reigns, encompassing her in his arms as the horse broke into a canter. His breath tickled the hair by her ear as he leant his head on her shoulder. "Relax." She realised she had been sitting stiff as a board, tilted forward, and leaned more fully into him, her back pressing against his chest. She felt a sense of security in Aemond's arms, even as she want to meet a dragon, his warmth seeping into her.

Aemond smiled as he felt Y/N shift closer to him, basking in her proximity and how far they had come for her to be so comfortable with him now. He'd been bemused at the look on her face as she'd approached the horse, tentatively placing her smaller hand on the saddle. He doubted she had any or at least very little experience with horse riding. Lifting her up onto the horse himself and wrapping his arms around her to take the reigns, he thought to himself that he should have invented an excuse to do so long before.

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by Y/N's gasp as what she'd thought had been a huge mountain moved and lifted its head, seemingly sensing its rider's approach. Not a mountain...Vhagar.

"It is alright, Y/N. She will not harm you. I am here."

Bringing the horse to a stop a safe distance away from the she-dragon, Aemond jumped down before turning to lift Y/N down. Vhagar was looking inquisitively at them and Y/N feared she was wondering whether Aemond had brought her a snack, though she was also awestruck by the sight of a real dragon before her. "Stay here a moment, I will calm her before I introduce you."

With that he approached the large dragon as if she were only a small dog, speaking softly to her and patting her snout when he was close enough.

"Lykirri Vhagar, dohaeras."

Y/N felt her lips quirk up in an involuntary smile and her cheeks heat at the smooth, low tone of Aemond's voice as he spoke in High Valyrian. She had not heard him speak it before but found it unspeakably attractive. Y/N could not understand what Aemond was saying, but whatever it was seemed to have a calming affect on the she-dragon as she rested her head back on the ground, not even looking at Y/N anymore. She could not school her features before Aemond looked back at her, returning to her side and looking down at her questioningly. "I do so love to see you blush, might I inquire as to the cause on this occasion?"

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her up at his directness, but as she began to turn from Aemond to hide her glowing cheeks, he only took hold of her elbow and turned her back towards him. "There is no need to be embarassed, Ñuha prūmia." As her blush deepened and she squirmed away from him realisation dawned on Aemond's face, and he graced her with a knowing smirk.

"Ah, I see."

Y/N felt the need to explain herself, but only managed to stumble over her own words. "It is only that I like to hear you speak in Valyrian, it has an elegance to it. I mean to say that I find the sound of your voice comforting. Wait, that sounds worse." Flustered she placed her head in her hands, hearing Aemond chuckle softly as he prised her hands from her face. "I am glad you like the sound of my voice, my darling, and I'll speak to you in High Valyrian more often if it should please you.

Brushing his hand over her blazing cheek he brought his face low to speak against her ear, his voice barely above a whisper. "Iksā gevie, Issa jorrāelagon."

A shiver went down Y/N's spine, though she did not understand the meaning of the words. "What does it mean?"

Aemond pulled back, his smile widening at her physical reaction to his voice. "Do you truly wish to know?" Y/N narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the cunning glint in Aemond's eye, resolving to just ask Helaena later. She hoped it was not anything too crude. "I'm suddenly not so sure I do." Aemond patted her cheek affectionately before taking her hand in his. "Come then, I wish you to meet Vhagar. She is calm now. It is safe."

Interlocking their fingers, Aemond gently pulled Y/N towards Vhagar until she was close enough to touch the she-dragon. Pulling their joint hands up, he placed Y/N's palm on Vhagar's side. The Prince observed Y/N's face switch from one of trepidation to a look of of wonder as he smoothed their hands down the tough surface of Vhagar's scales. His dragon was not perturbed in the slightest, a relaxed hum reverberating through her as she huffed out soft tendrils of smoke.

He knew that Vhagar could feel the great importance the girl beside him held for Aemond, could feel his love for her, through their shared bond. And as such she would not harm her. But it warmed his heart to see the two great loves of his life interact. His bond with Vhagar had been the most important connection in his life before he met Y/N. She was his only friend, their bond with one another unequivocal, unbreakable. Introducing Y/N to Vhagar felt like baring the most essential parts of his soul to her. He hoped that Y/N might even agree to a ride with Vhagar in the future as she grew more comfortable with his dragon, and his heart raced with excitement at the prospect. There was no feeling like riding high in the skies, as if touching the heavens, nothing so pure as the trust between a dragon and it's rider. Aemond wanted to experience this with Y/N in time.

Y/N allowed the Queen to manage preparations for her wedding entirely, grateful there would only be a small wedding feast afterwards. The Queen had been nothing but warm and welcoming to her since she'd witnessed Y/N defending her son so vociferously. Y/N would be forever grateful to Helaena for teaching her the basics of dancing and only hoped she would not embarass herself too greatly, though she was excited at the prospect of dancing with Aemond. There was only one matter she had a strong opinion on, and that was her dress. One conversation with Helaena had convinced her that her dress should be blue. The Queen had seemed unsure at first, the common colour being white, but did not see the harm if Y/N was adamant.

Though Y/N was racked by nerves on the morning of her wedding, she was overjoyed by the way her dress had turned out. The soft midnight blue fabric and the golden detailing shifted elegantly as she moved, and Y/N thought it resembled the night sky. She only hoped Aemond would also like it. Butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach as she faced the long expanse of the aisle of the Sept, her arm interlocked with the Prince Aegon's.

Aemond's brother had been surprisingly pleasant to her, despite his reputation for being somewhat of a menace at court, and had offered to walk her down since she had no surviving male relatives of her own to do so. Searching Aemond out, she felt her nerves settle somewhat at the sight of him, handsome garbed in his ivory tunic and with a soft smile upon his face as he took her in. Taking his hand in hers, Y/N felt a wave of calm rush over her at how their hands fit together, as if made for one another. Her feeling of contentment, of pieces falling into place, only intensified as they spoke their vows and Aemond placed a cloak embroidered with the colours of House Tagaryen over her shoulders.

The wedding feast itself passed with little ceremony, including only a small gathering of nobles. Aegon had sunk into his cups early into the evening and managed to make a fool of himself drunkenly pulling Y/N about the room in the semblance of a dance, insistent that he should "welcome his new sister into the family properly" before she was rescued by her husband. Her heart fluttered at the thought as she placed her hands on his shoulders and he pulled her close to lead her in the steps of the dance. Aemond did not much like to dance, but that night he did for Y/N and found he did not mind so much when it was his wife he held in his arms rather than the simpering noble ladies that had been thrust upon him at feasts before. As the hour grew late and Y/N felt herself growing overwhelmed under the watchful gaze of the courtiers, they made to retire to their chambers. Aegon had just barely spoken the words "bedding ceremony" before Aemond fixed him with a glare so fierce he immediately quietened and went back to his cups.

Shutting the doors to their shared chambers, his heart warming at the thought, Aemond's smile fell as he turned to see his wife anxiously wringing her hands and shifting from one foot to the other. He gently gripped her shoulders. "Are you well, my love?"

"I confess I am a little afraid." Realisation dawned upon him. It was not uncommon for ladies to be concerned about their wedding night, but he did not wish his wife to be.

"You needn't be. We do not have to do anything. I can just hold you."

Aemond's felt a surge of guilt at Y/N's still uneasy expression, he hated to think she felt she had to do anything she was not yet comfortable with out of duty. It was more than enough for him that she was now his wife. He wished her to understand that he would never force her, or pressure her for anything more than she would allow.

Gently taking her hand he purposefully pulled her away from the bed to the chaise in the centre of the room. "Come, sit and talk with your husband a while."

He hoped if he continued on as they normally would, Y/N would feel less nervous. Keeping hold of her hand in both of his he turned to her, mouth quirked up in a conspiratorial smirk. "You have been thoroughly inducted into House Targaryen now with all its foibles. I hope Aegon's fool hardy behaviour did not alarm you too much. I must warn you that I will not allow myself to be parted from you even if it did."

Aemond felt his heart warm at her laugh, hoping she was beginning to feel more comfortable. They talked for a while before Y/N suddenly quietened, her expression sheepish. Aemond squeezed her hand gently, concerned that his wife might be afraid of him by the way she was looking at him. Her next words quickly dispelled that thought. But they instilled in him a different fear entirely, causing him to stiffen as she tentatively raised a hand to brush against his cheek, along the strap of his eyepatch.

"May I see you without your eyepatch, husband?"

Aemond caught her wrist, halting her movements, his voice laced with an admixture of shame and fear he had carried with him since he had lost his eye. He had gained a dragon, the largest and fiercest in the world, but he had been irreparably maimed for it. It was an act of violence that had changed the way people looked at him ever since and he could not bear it if Y/N should look at him with disgust or horror, or shame. "It is an ugly thing, my love. Not for the faint of heart."

"It is a part of you, Aemond. I will not judge you for it. I wish only to look upon the face of my husband, who I love dearly."

Aemond closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the erratic beating of his heart as he sought a way to distract his wife from her current train of thought, to disway her from her wish to see what lay beneath his eyepatch. He did not know if he could part with this layer of armour, the fear of rejection palpable in the air between them.

"I do not know..."

Y/N cut him off before he could give his excuses.

"If you will not show me, will you tell me how it happened? If it is not too painful. I know that it was your nephew Lucerys who was to blame." Aemond was surprised by the biting tone of his wife's voice as she spoke the name of his nephew. But he was grateful for the escape she had offered him and so he told her everything. Of how he had so oft been an outcast, jeered at by his brother and nephews when his dragon egg failed to hatch. He told her of how they'd mocked him with the promise of a dragon, only to present him with a pig. He told her of how he'd tried to offer his nephew Jacaerys comfort upon the death of Harwin Strong, of how he'd been rebuked and sought out Vhagar. How he'd claimed the largest dragon in the world, and how he'd lost an eye for it.

All the while Y/N stroked the side of his face, his hair, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowing at each painful memory Aemond recalled. When he'd finished, she pulled him to her, his head coming to rest in the crook of her neck. "I hate that you have suffered so much at the hands of those who should love you. I wish I had been there for you." Aemond felt his heart seize, unused to such care, such devotion to his well being. "I do not wish to distress you, my wife. I am perfectly content now."

Y/N huffed. "I always want you to feel comfortable telling me about these parts of yourself Aemond. I would like a word with your nephews though" she grumbled out under her breath. Aemond let out a hearty laugh at that, clutching his wife tighter to him "Perhaps it is not Vhagar my enemies should fear, but my fearsome, protective wife. I have long since forgiven Lucerys, it is his lack of punishment that has always pained me, rather than the act itself."

Y/N pulled away from him to look into his face, cupping his cheek where his eyepatch rested. "Then you are a better man than most."

As gratitude for his wife's care washed over him, Aemond felt that he did not need to hide from Y/N anymore, that it might be a relief for her to see him as he truly was without the fear of her reacting negatively. She had not judged him at any moment for his scar or as he told her of the misfortunes of his childhood. Had she not been the one to mend the very eyepatch he now wore upon his face the day they had met, knowing what it meant to him? He trusted her fully, and would show her as much.

"I do not mind if you wish to see it, my love." Taking strength from the warmth of his beloved's hand he placed both their hands atop the strap of his eyepatch and slowly removed it from his face, leaving only the sapphire where his eye should have been. He closed his good eye, not wishing to see his wife's initial reaction, aware the sight was ghastly and harrowing for most. The soft touch of her fingers down the line of his scar grounded him, reassuring him that she was not disgusted with him. She did not despise him.

"It is beautiful, Aemond."

Aemond snapped his eye open, looking at Y/N as if she'd lost her mind. "Beautiful? I expected you to shriek or faint at the sight of it. You are always surprising me Y/N."

"I think every part of you beautiful, the sapphire compliments you well. Why did you think I had a blue dress made? It is not the common colour for a wedding gown."

"You had your dress made to match me?"

Aemond spoke slowly, each word latent with barely repressed emotion.

Y/N nodded eagerly. "Yes, Helaena told me of your sapphire. I know it is not common knowledge but I thought it might please you."

Moved by his wife's sweet gesture, Aemond pulled her towards him so she was halfway in his lap, one hand holding her head to his chest.

"I worried you would hate me for it, that you would come to regret tying yourself to a man with such a deformity when you are perfection itself."

Y/N pulled back from him then, all seriousness as she considered how best to show Aemond that his scar did not make him any less in her eyes, that she love all of him.

"I could never hate you, and it does not frighten me. If anything I only love you all the more for allowing me to see you this way, for trusting me. And as to me being perfect, I assure you it is only you who thinks so and I most certainly am not."

Leaning over Aemond, Y/N placed a trail of kisses along the length of his scar, pulling away to rest her hand on his cheek. "You will always be the most handsome man to me. My brave husband."

Y/N lowered herself from her position leant over him until she was straddling Aemond, his hands moving to her waist to keep her secure as he gazed up at her in awe. Bringing her lips to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself as close as she could to him. In the comfort of his arms and with the feel of his lips on her, Y/N realised she had never felt so safe, so seen with anyone as with Aemond, and her previous worries dissipated. She parted her lips, allowing Aemond to deepen the kiss, before reaching one hand down to take hold of Aemond's.

He did not oppose her as she moved it from her waist to place it on her collarbone, slowly moving it down her chest until it rested over her breast. She heard Aemond's breath hitch but steeled her courage as she continued to move her lips against his, all the while trailing his hand down her torso, her hip and finally her thigh. Aemond pulled away from her then to look into her eyes, seemingly searching for any doubt. "Are you sure, my heart?"

Y/N had never been so sure of anything in that moment as she was of her love for Aemond and his love for her. Bringing her hands up to his shoulders she pressed her lips to his forehead. "Yes."

Aemond smiled tenderly at her, his voice soft as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Avy jorrāelan." He knew that she would understand what that meant from the tone of his voice. Pressing her closer to him still, if that were possible, the prince crashed his lips against hers.

Valyrian translations:

Avy jorrāelan~ I love you

Iksā gevie~ You are beautiful

Issa jorrāelagon ~My love

Nuha prumia~ My heart

This might be the prettiest a man has ever looked. I was in shock your honour.

Also. How the fuck did he do this????!!!!

@zoetje2004 @jjkysnk @ieieibhibu8 @skymoonandstardust @truly-abysmal @idonotknowenglish @leonesimp @hyacinthesiss @nanawaffles @callsigncrushx @bitchyfestivalbouquet @void21 @sapphiresandferrari @pinkykats-place

@lportes-22

@superintenseart @youknownothingjohnwatson

@misspinkonmars @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader #alicent hightower #hotd season 2 #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aegon targaryen

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maybe-a-bi-witch · 10 months

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Mia's Fic Recs

One Piece, HotD, JJK,

One Piece

Zoro

Just a little longer by @sleepymarimo

One time where Zoro pushes your affections away and another time when he begrudgingly accepts them.

The one that (almost) got away by @loguetowns

it takes him 12 hours to realize

Baby, let the games begin by @irisintheafterglow

Reader is a pirate hunter who used to compete with Zoro, before he joined the Strawhat crew. They reunite after Zoro joined the crew.

Got me spinning like a ballerina by @mydearlybeloathed

zoro doesn't dance, but he has no issue in watching you twirl yourself off your feet. so long as you twirl back to him when your feet get tired.

Ultimatum by @undiscovered-horizon

Zoro hits you with a "fine, I'll be your boyfriend" when you try to break off your casual situationship

Shanks

Jolly Sailor Bold by @httpwintersoldier

your curse leads you to a certain red-haired pirate that ends up taking you hostage for the rest of your life. And you very much agree with the decision.

Sanji

Puzzled by @mynewblackdress

Due to your insecurities, you thought Sanji was making fun of you whenever he complimented you until you realized he wasn’t.

Go Fish! (series) by @honnelander

reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.

House of the Dragon

Aemond

Be Quiet by @youraverageaemondsimp

DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Babysitter!Reader

Duty, Sacrifice by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Her and Aemond have always loved to play hide and seek, however, the night he returns from Storm's End, their game takes a much more sinister turn.

Catalyst by @oneeyedvisenya

Your job as Dr. Targaryen's lab assistant becomes far more hands on than you expected.

His Love by @valeskafics

When Aemond finds you after you ruin Aegon's coronation, he is in for a surprise.

To have and to hold by @lilibethwrites

Reader goes to Storm's End, and instead of claiming Lucerys's eye, he makes reader his wife.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Nanami Kento

Professor by @fairyhub

The Princess by @classyrbf

sometimes being a princess comes with strict rules and responsibilities so why not have a little fun with the man who was assigned to protect and defend you

Ex Husband Nanami by @classyrbf

Headcannons about ex husband Nanami

everything i was looking for by @awearywritersworld

when nanami became a salaryman, jujutsu wasn't the only thing he left behind. four years later, he's got his job back and he wants you back too.

Natural (series) by @justauthoring

you fit into their little family, perfectly - naturally.

Gojo Sataru

"do you like me?" "nope." by @awearywritersworld

even yuuji realizes that gojo has a crush on you, but you're oblivious as ever

I wanna show you off by @gojonanami

when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich

Is it over now? ft. Geto by @gojonanami

suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend.

the cutest couple on the Internet by @osaemu

steamer!au - you flirt with his rival

Toji Fushigoro

stay as long as you need by @awearywritersworld

toji can't stop hanging around his new neighbor, even though she has a boyfriend. oh well, he knows he's better for her anyway.

Geto Suguru

One of your girls by @fairyhub

you can’t help your feelings for your brother’s best friend

Is it over now? ft. Geto by @gojonanami

suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend.

Sukuna Ryomen

Men are so quick to blame the gods (series) by @awearywritersworld

your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night.

Death is no more by @rinhaler

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

How you get the girl by @yuujispinkhair

He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the guy who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.

The brat and the child that comes with him by @mysicklove

Sukuna might not be the best older brother, but at least Yuuji doesnt seem to mind.

Lullaby for the past by @poe-daydreams

Best friends (older brother) Sukuna by @seeingivy

#one piece #opla x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #shanks x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #toji fushigro x reader #fic rec #fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #hotd fanfic #sukuna ryomen x reader

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atopvisenyashill · 11 months

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Had some fun thoughts about Aegon’s sons while I was re-reading. This is the passage:

At the feast afterward, King Aenys compounded his misjudgment by granting the title Prince of Dragonstone to his presumptive heir, Prince Aegon. A hush fell over the hall at those words, for all present knew that title had hitherto belonged to Prince Maegor. At the high table, Queen Visenya rose and stalked from the hall without the king’s leave. That night she mounted Vhagar and returned to Dragonstone, and it is written that when her dragon passed before the moon, that orb turned as red as blood.

It’s kind of funny to me because Aenys is doing something normal - he’s just naming his oldest son as his heir (and also pointedly bypassing Rhaena as heir but that’s also incredibly normal behavior bc Westeros and Earth are a patriarchal hellscape).

But he always does shit like this. Every major decision Aenys makes is the one he’s “supposed” to make, almost like he’s following a script. The patriarch must have heirs, must make proper dynastic matches for his heirs, must support and defend his heir’s claim so the transition between their rules is smooth. He wants to live up to the legacies of both Aegon and Rhaenys, be decisive and strong but kind and charming as well, and he freezes right in the middle of the two into something obnoxious and indecisive.

So he takes the title “prince of dragonstone” a title created for Maegor by the lords and people and hands it to his son for funsies. He wants the titles and signals of legitimacy to belong to only him because he’s the first born so of course it belongs to him; that’s not just arrogance, that’s law. At the same time, “prince of dragonstone” was not an official title that Aegon gave Maegor as a sign of legitimacy, the way he tried to give Aenys blackfyre. See here:

Prince Maegor remained with his mother, sitting by her side when she held court. Queen Visenya and King Aegon were oft apart in those years. When he was not on a royal progress, Aegon would return to King’s Landing and the Aegonfort, whilst Visenya and her son remained on Dragonstone. For this reason, lords and commons alike began to refer to Maegor as the Prince of Dragonstone.

They call him that because he grows up there at his mother’s side instead of at his father’s with Aenys. And then not only does Aegon back down from fighting the Faith by betrothing Maegor to a Hightower, he is essentially rejecting this sign of legitimacy for Maegor by refusing to go to bat for an incestuous marriage that would make Maegor and Rhaena his heirs together. Maegor may have some symbols of legitimacy but they are not given to him by Aegon - he doesn't get Blackfyre or Balerion until after Aegon dies. He barely sees his father. He can't even give his father grandchildren. But he has this one thing, this title given to him by the lords and commoners of Dragonstone, the seat that once belonged to his father. And then Aenys takes that away. It’s his right! He’s the oldest son! Why is Visenya turning the moon weird colors when she knows her son is the younger!

But of course, her son is the younger because Visenya and Aegon couldn’t stand each other, and by the time they got around to really attempting to fuck, Visenya was already a bit old. And Visenya is the oldest, maybe the least loved wife, but the original, the first wife. It doesn’t matter; Rhaenys had a baby first, Rhaenys is the one the line now descends from. And her son can’t even leave Visenya’s son a silly little title given as a nickname, a nickname he earned for being Visenya’s son, always on Dragonstone with his mother and never at King’s Landing. But Aenys stubbornly ignores this because this is how he operates. They’re the ones not following the script!

It’s exactly what he does when it comes to Rhaena and Aegon marrying; it never occurs to him that people will be angry because he has the right. Never mind the High Septon making it clear he wouldn’t approve. Never mind it’ll piss off Visenya and Maegor, the only competent generals with dragons that he has bc his kids aren’t grown.

The storm that greeted the king’s announcement took them all by surprise, though the warning signs had been plain enough for those with the wit to read them. The Faith had condoned, or at the very least ignored, the marriage of the Conqueror and his sisters, but it was not willing to do the same for their grandchildren.

There’s soooo much going on here in why Aenys acts like this. It’s not just the general royal/noble “i have the castle and the swords i do what i want” but a very specific Targaryen “i have the dragons i do what i want” and an even more specific “i have the divine right i do what i want.”

He is Aegon the Conquerer’s first born son and he can do what he wants. It’s in the script his father followed when Aegon used The Divine Right Of Dragons to subjugate most of Westeros. He completely convinced himself that he is allowed to run roughshod over social norms, politics, religion, his own family’s feelings, because he is Aegon’s son.

And Maegor takes the exact opposite approach. He is Aegon the Conqueror’s second born son of his least favorite wife and he will always have to conquer like his father to prove he is worthy of doing what he wants.

It is in effect the same problem basically every Targaryen past Aegon has had. They see him (and Rhaenys and Visenya) just as godly as the people of Westeros do. They are all demi gods aspiring to the immortality of the Conqueror while refusing to see the bigger picture surrounding him which is that Aegon didn’t do whatever he wanted and he was miserable for large portions of his life which is why he was so effective as King! He’s an annoying bitch but he’s an annoying bitch who realized that the throne was not there to make him happy!! It is only when Aenys and Alyssa give him Rhaena, and a new family to love, that Aegon lives happily again.

Basically every Targaryen ruler misses some aspect of this. They focus on how he conquered with dragons so they use extreme force and forget how often he conceded, how smartly he chose to sort his spoils of war, and put their yes men in powerful positions only to watch those dudes get eaten alive by their post. Or they focus on the concessions, on the miracle of his negotiations, the myth making around Aegon the Dragon, and do reckless, foolish shit without a thought for consequence because They Are The Blood Of The Dragon.

The Dragon was a man and not a god! He died of a stroke! Not of dragon fire or a thunderbolt sent from the gods themselves. Ultimately, what was special was his ability to know when to fight and when to negotiate and even that wasn’t always easy for him, see: the dragon’s wroth. But every Targaryen after him believes in The Dragon, The God, and makes a claim at his godhood, even his own sons. And all of them fall short because of their belief in his godhood, even his own sons.

#valyrianscrolls #aegon the conqueror #aenys targaryen #maegor targaryen #visenya targaryen #aegon the dragon #fuck i can’t remember how i tag him #ignore the fact that i spell conqueror 3 different ways #getting on my soap box

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kazz-brekker · 3 months

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hotd episode 4 thoughts:

bro!! that was fucking BRUTAL! i've known it was coming all season but holy shit i was NOT prepared for all of that!!!

before this season started people were saying that blood and cheese was going to be this show's red wedding, but honestly i 100% think it's rook's rest, actually! do not argue with me!

okay hang on let me try to have some coherent thoughts.

as a lover of all things gothic and weird, i am absolutely loving daemon having a terrible time at harrenhal. get haunted by your past bad decisions, loser!

i've been waiting all season to see how the alyn and addam subplot will play out and i really like the choice to have rhaenys be aware of her husband's bastard children (in the book she never learned), it makes a lot of sense since she and corlys know each other really well and she's very familiar with driftmark.

also i was not emotionally ready for them to take the route of rhaenys learning hours before her death that her husband repeatedly cheated on her lol.

alicent taking the moon tea as a parallel to rhaenyra doing the same in season 1 was a bit unexpected but i actually liked it, i feel like if you're going to write a story that's supposed to be heavily inspired by medieval history then you should include how women deal with contraceptives and abortion in that world.

jace and baela trying to run the council in rhaenyra's absence…they're doing they're best! but they really are just kids and should not have to deal with all of this!

getting the sense that gwayne hightower is maybe not super down with this whole "war" thing after all.

aemond shit-talking aegon in front of the whole council and using high valyrian so they don't understand him was such a delightfully bitchy usage of the language that i actually yelled aloud.

i have not forgotten season 1…whenever alicent and larys have a scene together i live in fear.

i'm also loving alys rivers so far, she's so perfectly unsettling and i'm really pleased they let gayle rankin keep her scottish accent.

they mentioned the names of TWO of the muppet tullys! and benjicot blackwood! and the return of willem blackwood! and a laena hallucation! gosh, daemon's little harrenhal council scenes had so many delicious callbacks and namedrops this episode.

alicent snarking at aegon…oh she really is losing her patience with him and just doesn't care at all anymore.

it's so good to see rhaenyra really taking a stand and making decisions this episode, but my god the pit of my stomach really dropped when rhaenys volunteered to fly to rook's rest.

i really liked the parallel moments with aegon and rhaenys getting ready to go to war, especially how it emphasized that the targaryens see their dragons not just as weapons but as companions too.

truly did not have on my bingo card that one of the participants of the first proper dragon battle this season would be drunk.

rook's rest was just! man! it was brutal!

this show really made us wait for the first dragon versus battle dragon battle, and it really didn't let me down.

the bit where aegon realizes that he's severely outmatched by meleys…the looks on everyone's faces when vhagar arrives…the dragons just screeching and clawing at each other and laying waste the whole field below them without even meaning to…those soldiers being crushed beneath vhagar's feet without her even noticing…vhagar seizing meleys by the throat and just shaking her…the look on rhaenys's face when she's falling…the impact of sunfyre and meleys just totally crushing everything below them…it fucking slapped!!

the aftermath was just as brutal as the battle, tbh. the look on criston cole's face when he realized what he set in motion and that he maybe just killed the king…oh buddy you fucked up REAL bad.

on a better note…more harrenhal drama and jace in the riverlands next week?

#man! television! it sure is a ride!#pie says stuff #pie watches hotd #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #criston cole #alys rivers

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thebadboyfanclub · 2 years

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Are You Mad? (Daemon x Reader)

You guys never fail at pumping ideas for this man, although I do ask you guys if you could also send anything for Aegon or Aemond if not you are more that welcome to send Daemon requests. Enjoy

(Y/n) had grown up in the kitchen of the red keep, her mother and father had been cooks for the royal family and with no one to watch her while they worked the only thing they could do was to take her with them.

(Y/n) was a rampageous child, always running and wanting to explore. She had managed to slip out of her mothers grasp and had ran to the gardens, it wasn’t unusual for her to be there however her mother told her countless times that she should be careful, it was a beautiful day and (y/n) decided to plop down on the grass to pick flowers, she was planning to make a flower crown for her mother.

“Who are you?”

(Y/n) turned to see who it was. A little silver hair boy that held a wooden sword stared at her with confusion, (y/n) smiled at him like a kid that got caught doing something naughty, she had never seen another child inside the castle so naturally she thought she could make a friend.

“I am (y/n), want to make flower crowns?”

“That is boring, want to see my dragon?”

“Sure”

The little boy took her by the hand and ran with her to the dragon pit, Daemon had just started taking lessons with his dragon Caraxes and was severely proud of the beast. When (y/n)s mother saw the girl return to the kitchen with the prince holding hands and covered in dirt she almost died, (y/n) did not understand at the time why her mother was so anxious over her new friend, how should she know the little boy was royalty?

(Y/n) and Daemon grew up side by side, as the years passed the two of them became inseparable, Daemon would often get scolded by his father for dismissing his duties to go “bother the servants” since (y/n) had started working as a servant and would spend all her free time with him as well

“(Y/n) is not just a servant, she is my friend”

He would often reply to his father. Truth be told (y/n) was more than a friend to him, she was his sunshine at a gloomy day, always smiling at him, his favourite though was that it did not matter what might have occurred prior one thing he would always look forward to is her sneaking a piece of his favourite cake from the kitchen before it is served, technically he could walk in the kitchen and take the whole cake with him, it was her gesture that made it special.

Her heart would still break when she looked back at the day Daemon announced his betrothal to her.

“So, this is it? You will leave me?”

“I would never leave you my love, this is not my decision”

“Then what? I stay here to watch you marry another woman? How could I have been so foolish, I should have known this would happen”

(Y/n) could not hold her sobs, it felt like Daemon had reached in and pulled her heart out with his bare hands, he was all she knew and now the world crumbled as duty came knocking at their door, the inevitable wedlock that every royal person must obey, a prince at that was even worst and more drastic.

Daemon tried to hug her but she denied him by moving away from his touch, to see her lean away from him was the most brutal thing, he had fought the strongest men and had suffered many injuries still her retreat was the most vile act he had suffered through, he had done everything in his power to keep her happy and now like a domino board it only took one sentence for everything to crumble down.

“I love you (y/n)”

“Love is not enough for us Daemon, someone like you is not supposed to be with someone like… me”

She whimpered with shame. She had noticed the stares they earned when Daemon had spoken to her, she had heard the whispers of shame of how (y/n) had turn to a common whore the prince was toying until he got bored, she had brushed it off with the idea that Daemon was different and he was but their circumstance wasn’t, now it was coming to fruition, it was time to face the music and (y/n) was to be cast aside for a honourable lady wife, she was no princess or had anything in her name, she was not worthy of a prince.

“I must be mad”

Daemon mumbled as he grabbed her by the wrist and made her walk with him, due to her fussing he was forced to grab her and throw her over the shoulder as she hit his back and demanded to be put down. Daemon only let her go when they had reached the dragon pit, (y/n) was confused to say the least as Caraxes approached them, (y/n) had ridden the dragon before with Daemon so she was a very familiar face.

“What are we doing here?”

“I will take you to Dragonstone, you will be safe there. I will wed and then I will come back to you”

“Are you mad?”

“Yes, now stop acting like a stubborn kid and trust me for once”

Daemon had kept his promise, it took him three days to come back to Dragonstone to her, (y/n) had ran outside as soon as she saw Caraxes approaching, she collapsed in his arm thanking the Gods that he was back to her. It was not the most ideal of situations but none of them cared, they were safe and together here, at dusk they had wed under the Old Valyrian tradition, it was the happiest day in their life.

(Y/n) and Daemon had something bigger than love, they respected one another, they had recognised their differences and allowed one another to be their true authentic self, they complimented one another and worked together for the sake of their union.

Daemon adored her authenticity, her delicate and sensitive nature was a rare thing to find, her beauty radiated from her bright smile, how could someone not treat a woman like that with the utmost love?

Their coupling was sweet, soft, passionate, they spoke the language of the bodies well as both of them strived to please and show their devotion through it, he admired her naked form as she came undone and (y/n) took care of him as she held him close to her.

It was not long until she was occupying the birth bed with Daemon by her side and the wet nurses working to help her, she had a difficult child birth that had almost costed her life.

“Praise the mother, a girl”

“Is she alright?”

“Healthy as a horse”

(Y/n) bursted in tears from the relief, immediately forgetting the torturous pain she had endured, all it mattered was that her child was healthy. Daemon kissed her forehead repeatedly as (y/n) held their first born daughter, it was only a minute but (y/n) fell in love with the child immediately.

“How about Aurora?”

“I believe it suits her, welcome little Aurora”

(Y/n) had been unfortunate with all her pregnancies, she had managed to birth 3 and had lost two, all three were extremely difficult and the last she was instructed on bed rest for two long months. Daemon had stayed by her side through everything, encouraging her and reminding her how much he loves her, Daemon would have been content with only one but (y/n) had insisted that she wanted to have more children, his children.

It was Aurora, Alyssa and Raemond, Aurora had been a difficult labour making her mother lay on the bed in excruciating pain for two morrows, Alyssa had come earlier than expected and had managed to wrap her umbilical cord around her neck, poor thing came out blue and Raemond was rather easy labour yet his mother had been abed with fever for a week.

(Y/n) did not mind, she took pride in surviving under pressure and slipped past the strangers, the only thing that mattered was their three bundles of joy that filled their lives with laughter and bliss as their little footsteps paddled against the stoned floor, causing chaos and messing with anything they could get their hands on.

Unfortunately life has not always been without difficulty, Viserys had exiled Daemon due to the rebellion and daemon refusing to go to runestone and they had to pack their family and leave as quickly as possible, (y/n) had taken the news with the stiff lip, she did not fret over anything except her children’s safety, she would often wake up at the hour of the owl to make sure her children are sleeping peacefully, she worried something or someone would harm them.

“(Y/n) you will worry yourself sick”

“Daemon you and I both know that your family is not above anything, in their minds we are the only thing that keep you away from your duties”

(Y/n) was right, of course he could not admit that, feeding to her suspicions would cause her to stay awake the whole night or sit outside their children’s room.

Pentos had been a blessing for the little children, to young to be worried over such things and Daemon with (y/n) had done their best to keep their lives as light and carefree as possible, the warm weather and acres of land including the vineyard meant they had space for them to ran along all day.

Unfortunately Daemon often had to leave her side to fight at the Stepstones, (y/n) and the children would pray every night for Daemons safe return, the idea of losing him made her chest ache like a sword had pierced through it, alas she put a smile on her face every morrow and acted like their father was invisible and nothing would ever go wrong.

“I have an idea”

“Oh Gods you and your ideas”

“We cannot keep living like we are criminals my love, I am your lord husband and their father, I must protect my family, I must do right by you”

“You have”

“What? living in exile? Putting your lives at risk? No, tomorrow we flight for Kings landing”

(Y/n) had remained a few steps back when they walked in the throne room, with Raemond in her arms and her two daughters tugging at her dress as their father walked towards his brother, a sword was pointed at him to prevent him from approaching further, silence fell within the room and the only thing (y/n) could hear was her heart pounding.

Daemon pointed another word to the king before throwing it to the ground making a massive thud, startling (y/n) from the sudden noise.

“Add it to the chair”

“You wear a crown, do you also call yourself king?”

“Once we smashed the triarchy they named me king of the narrow sea but I know there is one true king, your grace”

Daemon spoke as he went on one knee and took of the crown that was gifted to him, the entire room was filled with whispers from bystanders as (y/n) watched the scene play out. Her husband has always been a mad man still she could not believe she had agreed to this plan.

Viserys approached his brother before pulling him in for a hug and everyone clapped, foolish of them to think that the worst part is over, (y/n) felt like she might suffocate from the anxiety when Viserys fixated his gaze on the children.

“Yours?”

“Aurora, Alyssa and Raemond. I come to you with a request my dear brother. I won this battle for you, I risked my life and toyed with the possibility of leaving my children illegitimate and my true love match exposed to enemies. Annul my wedlock, if not for me then for them so they can be safe if anything were to happen to me”

Daemon knew his brother well, he called on his sensitivity and sense of family to hit where it hurts, to tug on his heart strings and weakened his pride just enough all while stroking his ego as he begged for help in front of everyone. Viserys took another look at the three children, all three had gotten their father silver looks but all three had also earned their mothers eyes, Daemon always joked that it was because they were the purest and kindest and since eyes are the windows of the soul it was only natural that the children inherited their mothers, he loved to look into his children’s eyes and get a glimpse of (y/n).

“Step forward Lady (y/n)”

(Y/n) felt all the eyes on her, although she kept her head high and held her children close only the Gods knew she wished to dig a hole and burry herself in it. As she stood next to Daemon Viserys took in the children, all of them Targaryen featured looking, Viserys heart soften when Alyssa clung to the leg of her father while Raemond buried his head in his mothers neck, Daemon was the only one to pick up the faint curve of his brothers lips, Viserys was always a sucker for family

“I king Viserys Targaryen, with the power invested in me I hereby declare Princess Aurora, princess Alyssa and prince Raemond Targaryen the true born children of prince Daemon Targaryen as he has wed the lady (y/n) with customs of old Valyria the wedlock of lady Rhea Royce is annulled, making her his true lawful wife and should be treated as such”

Requests are open!

@watercolorskyy

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Note

Could I request Alpha!Rhaenyra x omega!handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even some soft smut? It doesn’t have to be omegaverse if you’re not comfortable with writing it

Rhaenyra Targaryen*Perzītsos

Pairings: Rhaenyra x handmaiden!f!reader

Warnings: mentions of loss, family death, grieving, smut, fingering, f!recieiving oral, nipple play, pet names, soft smut 18+

Word count: 3110

A/N: trying to pick between emma and millie for a Rhaenyra gif is a near impossible decision

also i wouldve done the omega and alpha things but i havent really read much like that so i didnt wanna accidentally butcher it so i hope this was okay!

Masterlist Here

Translations

Perzītsos (little flame) ñuha dōna (my sweet)

All the servants had lined up, backs pressed against the stone walls of the corridor, waiting for the princess arrival. Heads bowed, hands whipping sweat on their skirts, hushed whispers to see if anyone had caught a glimpse of her yet. The sound of dragon wings batting through the skies alerted you all to her arrival.

Rhaenyra barely looked at anyone, let alone the servants as she walked the halls of her new home. As she spoke to the lords of Dragonstone at the entrance you took the moment to take her in. Her long silver hair was windswept from the fight, cascading down her back, yet somehow not tangled from the flight. She didn’t wear what you would expect of a princess, instead clad in leather and bright red cloth for ease of riding. Her eyes were the softest of lilacs, staring at you like flowers.

Oh fuck! You thought as your eyes snapped to the ground. She had caught your stares and you could only hope from this distance she did not see your embarrassment. What you hadn’t saw was the slight smirk on her face or the way her eyes lingered on you as she passed you by. Your new boss had told you yesterday you would be one of her many handmaidens and not to expect any great things out of washing the princess delicates so to keep your head down. You’d only arrived last week, and you had already made the first mistake.

You had hoped to spend the rest of your life with your family in Old Town even if only as a servant, but a fire had made that impossible. You escaped with your life but had lost it at the same time. One of the lords of the manor you worked in took pity on you and had you sent here so to not have to suffer the memories. Yet Dragonstone was cold, its walls empty and dark, and its people sombre even when greeting their princess.

The princess had been practically locked in her chamber for the past week, barely saying two words to her servants at a time. her eyes would always watch your every move as you cleaned her room. She never even let you do half your tasks and wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her. she was cold but you could not blame her since you too missed home, even if home was so different for you both. “Take these to the princess for her bath,” the head maid shoved a small chest into your hands before stacking towels on top. “She’s in a right grouchy mood for someone who has everything,” the woman muttered as she stomped off.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you set off to the princess’s chambers. they had made you walk this path till your feet felt like they were going to crack to make sure you never got lost however as you stood in front of the door you kind of wish you had got lost. Taking a deep breath, you steadied the chest on your hip and knocked on the heavy wooden door. a moment passed before someone called out, “Come in,”

When your hand took the handle, you hadn’t expected the door to be so heavy. You shuffled forward, shoving the door open by your shoulder as you struggled to move the wood while balancing the chest. When you finally got in the room you were met again with those violet eyes. Rhaenyra smirked as she watched your head drop in embarrassment as you quickly shuffled in the room.

“Need a hand?” she asked as she stood from the bed she had been sitting on.

“It’s alright my princess I’ve got it- “you started to say as you placed the towels on the table beside the steaming hot bath when crash. The chest slipped from your hip and hit the ground, the wooden corner splintering and the top breaking over. “No,” you gasped as you knelt down to try put all the bath salts and fragrances back into the chest.

You heard footsteps but didn’t look up till Rhaenyra’s hand shot out to pick up one of the bottles, “Let me help you,” she said softly, ignoring the way you gaped at her. up close those eyes seemed even more magical, “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes meeting you.

You realised she had picked up all the pieces and quickly went to stand, “Yes princess, thank you princess, princess I- “

“Rhaenyra,” she cut you off.

Pausing for a moment, eyes scrunched in confusion, before you nodded, “Princess Rhaynera I- “your sentence was cut off by her soft giggles.

“No please just call me Rhaenyra. In my chambers at least. Id like some form of normalcy at least,” Rhaenyra said as she stood up, but she did not move back as you began to lay out the bath supplies on the table. It seemed almost that she stepped closer. “What is your name?” she asked, her breath brushing the back of your neck.

You turned around, trying to stand tall, as you told her. “A beautiful name,” she said, her lips finally curved into a smile. It suited her face far better than her usual melancholy. “Are you here to ready the bath?”

“Yes pri- “you said, stopping suddenly with an awkward smile, “Rhaenyra. It will only be a few moments longer,”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, a slight laugh in her voice as she stepped away to begin taking her jewellery off.

As you poured the salts in you decided to try actually speaking to her, perhaps she just missed conversation you thought. “I can help you with that,” you said causing her to spin round, “if you give me a moment of course,” you said as you stirred the salts in before picking up the bottle of fragrance the king had sent in spades for her.

“I know how to take my own jewellery off,” she said, turning away again.

“I did not mean to offend you,” you said quietly as the sweet smell filled the room, “I just like to be of help,”

Rhaenyra chuckled as she sat her jewels down, small things that cost more than your life, “I don’t think anyone could help me truly,” she said as she began to tie her hair up.

“Maybe,” you said as you laid out the towels, “but you never know till you ask. My mother always told me that,” you said, pausing for a moment in the sweet memory. She had always been so positive.

Rhaenyra paused briefly before finishing her hair. “Mothers always seem so wise,” she said as she looked out the window, “Till they die that is,” she muttered as her hands moved to try unstringing the laces behind her back.

“You don’t miss the fire till it’s gone cold,” you said as you checked the waters temperature, deciding the bath was in fact ready. Rhaenyra turned round with a questioning look, abandoning her futile attempts to undress herself, “That’s what my lord told me when I lost mine. Would you like me to get the laces princess?” you asked, somehow managing to stay calm as you spoke.

Rhaenyra nodded and you moved to stand behind her, gently loosening the dress, “Do you miss her?” Rhaenyra asked as the dress was loose enough for her to slip off her shoulders.

“Everyday,” you said as you picked up the heavy fabric and attempted to fold it.

“Me too,” she sighed as she moved to help you fold the dress, “Does it get easier?”

“No,” you said honestly as you bundled the gown into a drawer, “but it hurts less, in time,”

Rhaenyra didn’t say anything as she walked towards the bath. You silently helped her slip into the hot water, her shift going see through in the water, but you quickly averted your eyes. “Goodnight Rhaenyra,” you said as you bowed your head and went to leave.

“Wait,” she called out as your hand rested on the door handle, “Could you stay?” she said, her voice going quiet as she averted her gaze, “You could brush my hair?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course,” you smiled back at her, “It would be my pleasure princess- “

“Rhae,” she said cutting you off. “Call me Rhae,” she said as she settled back in the water.

“Okay Rhae,” you said as you moved a stool to sit behind her bath and took a brush in your hand, “Lean back,” you said as you took down her hair and began to brush.

Rhaenyra began requesting you daily for certain tasks. You would be the one to brush her hair, help her dress, arrange her bath. At first Rhaenyra would listen to your stories as you did your chores. She was nearly always silent when you did so, asking maybe one or two questions the whole time but always insisting you continued when you stopped.

Then she began to tell you, her stories. About her first time on a dragon, about her father’s new wife, and her mother’s death. Slowly she opened up more and more. You began to see her outside of chores. She’d have you sneak out to join her dinners or even a few times let you meet her dragon with the promise of a ride on it one day. Your meetings got longer and her words sweeter. Her hand began to linger when she would pass you the brush or your hands rested a moment too long on her shoulders until the day you kissed her without even thinking.

You had been helping her dress and had moved to her front to adjust the material. “All done,” you said, suddenly looking up from where your head had been tilted down to fix the bodice when your nose brushed against hers. Her lips brushed yours as your head moved up, her eyes gazing into yours and without a thought or a word you leaned forward closing the gap. It was a short but soft kiss, and you pulled back, wide eyed and almost teary as you expected to be scolded when Rhaenyra stepped forward.

Her lips crashed onto yours, her hands moving to hold your back and press you into her tighter. Your hands had been trapped between your bodies and snaked up her front to rest on her shoulders. This kiss was desperate, hungry, and so needy that you didn’t part for air till your head grew dizzy. “You shall dine with me tonight,” she whispered, her forehead resting on yours, “and I will count down the minutes till I return to find you in these chambers,”

That had been weeks ago. Now you lay in a bed of fine silks and furs, a silver haired girl laying with her head on your chest as you stroked her soft strands. “Rhae?” you asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered back. You couldn’t help but smile at her voice, “I’m just enjoying your company Perzītsos,” little flame, she whispered still in the quiet room only lit by a few candles. She had given you one of her shifts to wear as you settled into the bed with her, and it felt like clouds on your skin. “Is that wrong of me?” she asked as she brought your hand to her mouth to kiss.

“Not at all zaldrīzes,” you said, kissing the top of her head.

“Your Valyrian is improving,” you could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

You smiled down at the girl curled in your lap, “Only because of my teacher,” you said.

Rhaenyra shuffled and moved to sit up, her legs draped over your lap as she curled into you, her head resting on your shoulder, “It is easy to teach such a willing student,” she praised, kissing your check.

You turned your head, resting your forehead on hers before capturing her kiss. Her hand moved to hold your cheeks while yours softly squeezed her hip. Without a word Rhaenyra moved to straddle your legs before crashing her lips back to yours, holding your face gently. The kiss was comfortable, the type of kiss you melt into. Your hands moved from her hips to her back, pressing her chest into yours as she led the kiss.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped down from your face between your bodies, resting over the thin fabric covering your chest. “Patience little one,” she giggled as she pushed back, “Good things come to those who wait,”

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time Nyra,” you panted before rejoining your lips, your hands slipping down to squeeze her ass over her shift.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped off your body but only for a moment to pull off the thin fabric covering her body. “That’s better,” she said as she as she placed your hands back on the soft flesh of her ass as her hands began to gently squeeze your chest.

Her lips became more feverous, but Rhaenyra was careful not to burn you, always going softer on her favourite hand maiden. Rhaenyra’s hips began to grind down, signalling to you without words. One of your hands slipped from her back to her front, moving between your bodies to run a finger up her cunt, “So wet for me,” you praised with a slight smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she giggled as she pulled you back in.

Your fingers trailed up and down her wet folds for only a few moments before slowly pushing into her entrance. Rhaenyra moaned into the kiss as your fingers slipped in, your thumb positioned to rub slow circles into her clit which you had worked over so many times now. Rhaenyra began to slowly buck her hips on your fingers, fucking herself slowly as your fingers curled.

Her moans were soft and mixed with gasps as you began to kiss down her jaw and neck. The soft skin was like a drug as your lips moved down to nip at her collarbones. Your spare hand moved from her ass to her chest as you began to kiss her chest before taking one of her hardened nipples into your mouth, sucking on it gently, “Yes,” Rhaenyra moaned softly as your fingers began to trace her hardened bud, “Don’t stop,”

“Whatever you want,” you whispered before lightly biting the bud with your teeth.

“You,” she gasped, “I want you,” she moaned as your fingers curled into that all too familiar spot. The way her hips began to buck was a familiar sight. your hand moved from her chest to her hips to hold them in place as you helped her moan out in ecstasy, curling your fingers still as she rode out her orgasm before collapsing into your arms.

Rhaenyra’s head rested on your shoulder for a moment as she caught her breath. Your hands moved to rub soft circles into her back, holding her close. After a few moments Rhaenyra lifted her head to leave a soft kiss onto your lips, “Your turn,” she whispered.

“It’s okay princess- “

“Let me take care of you,” she interrupted, brushing your hair out of your face, “Lay down little one. I want to hear you,” she said as she moved to let you lay on the soft sheets.

Her eyes raked over you body, the shift doing little to cover your modesty. Rhaenyra sat next to you, reaching out to trace your hardened nipples over your clothes, “So pretty,” she muttered before she moved lean over your body. She kissed your lips before trailing down your body, leaving kisses down your skin till she reached your thighs.

Rhaenyra left several kisses up the sensitive skin while you shivered from her touch. Her soft breath fanned over your wet cunt, already making your body tense. You breathed in sharply when she placed a sudden kiss to your clit, your hands gripping the fine sheets. “Relax,” she whispered with a teasing tone, “Trust me little one,” she said as she moved your thighs over her shoulders, “Let me hear your sweet sounds,” she said before licking a soft stripe up your folds.

Your hands tightened around the sheets as Rhaenyra began to lap up your juices, softly at first but with growing hunger. She moved her head till her nose brushed your clit, making your body jerk. Rhaynera hands wrapped around your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as she began to fuck you with her tongue.

You could feel the knot growing in your stomach and you did your best to stay quiet, but Rhaenyra was not making it easy. One of her hands released your thigh only for her to begin teasing your hole with her fingers. Rhaenyra slowly eased two fingers into you, curling them slowly inside you as her mouth moved up to place open mouth kisses to your clit. Her tongue massaged your bundle of nerves while her fingers began to brush over that one particular spot.

Your soft moans filled the chambers and the fear of someone entering didn’t even faze you as your body tightened. When you felt her begin to lightly suck on your clit you could feel your peak ready to tip so when her teeth grazed the bundle of nerves you began to crash on her tongue, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets.

Rhaenyra didn’t stop even as your thighs tightened around her head. You felt your body might break in half as her mouth seemed to get more determined to milk another out of you. it didn’t take long till your body was jerking as you tried to almost fight off the second orgasm, but it was futile once her fingers curled to hit your sweet spot and you came again on her face.

This time Rhaenyra came up for air as you lay in bed, half dazed as you stared at the ceiling. “You were so good for me,” Rhaenyra praised as she lay beside you, brushing the hair out of your face, “Can I hold you little one?” she asked, raising your hand to her lips and to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, shuffling slightly so that Rhaenyra could lay behind you, her arms wrapped around your front while her head buried into the crook of your neck. “Get some sleep darling,” Rhaenyra said, kissing your shoulder, “I’ll be here in the morning,”

“Okay,” you whispered as you felt Rhaenyra shuffle and suddenly a thick blanket fell over you both, “Gnight Rhae,” you said, already half asleep,”

“Goodnight Perzītsos,”

Taglist @clairacassidy @starkleila @valeskafics

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

Text

The Stag and the Dragon

pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female OC

summary: Aegon has to marry a Baratheon girl, what was so attractive about her?

Word count: 3,9K

Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, Slight dirty talk, mean Aegon at first

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

In the dimly lit chamber of the Red Keep, the king's small council gathered, their faces illuminated by the flickering candles that lined the table. King Viserys I Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his expression grave as he surveyed his most trusted advisors. Among them were Queen Alicent, his daughters Rhaenyra, and Helaena, and his sons, Prince Aegon and Aemond. The tension in the room was palpable, for the matter at hand was of great import.

Viserys cleared his throat, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "My lords and ladies, thank you for convening today. As you all know, our realm faces a time of uncertainty, and it is imperative that we secure our alliances and strengthen the bonds between noble houses."

The council members exchanged knowing glances. They were well aware of the precarious state of the Seven Kingdoms, with simmering tensions and rivalries threatening to erupt into open conflict.

Aegon, the young prince, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been aware of the impending discussion, and it filled him with unease. He glanced to his left, where the Baratheons, Borros, and Olira, sat. His betrothed, Olira Baratheon, sat with an impassive expression, her stormy blue eyes fixed on the table before her.

Viserys continued, "To that end, it is my decision to strengthen our ties with House Baratheon. I have arranged a betrothal between my son, Prince Aegon, and Lady Olira Baratheon."

The announcement hung in the air, and Aegon could feel the eyes of the council turn toward him. His heart sank at the prospect of this union, a marriage arranged for political gain rather than love. He shot a quick glance at Olira, but her face remained a mask of composure.

Borros Baratheon, Olira's father and the lord of Storm's End, nodded in agreement. "A wise decision, Your Grace. This alliance will bring stability to the realm."

Aegon bit his lip, struggling to contain his frustration. He had hoped for a different future, one where he could choose his own path. But the burdens of his birthright weighed heavily upon him, and he knew that his desires were secondary to the needs of the realm.

Olira, on the other hand, gave no outward reaction. She had been prepared for this moment by her father, taught to hide her emotions behind a stoic facade. She understood the duty that came with her noble blood, even if it meant sacrificing her own desires.

Viserys concluded the meeting, "Let it be known that this betrothal is a sign of unity and strength. The wedding will take place in due time, and I expect both Houses Targaryen and Baratheon to uphold their obligations."

As the council members began to disperse, Aegon couldn't help but steal one last glance at Olira. Their fates were intertwined now, whether they liked it or not, and the weight of their responsibilities pressed heavily upon their young shoulders.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a labyrinth of beauty, a testament to the opulence and grandeur of the Targaryen dynasty. As Aegon and Olira strolled along the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves surrounded them. It was a serene backdrop for a union neither of them had chosen.

Aegon, his arms crossed and his expression sullen, walked a pace ahead of Olira. His displeasure with the betrothal was evident in every step, every furrowed brow. He had not wanted this, had not asked for it, and it was clear he had no intention of making it easy.

Olira, on the other hand, walked with a measured grace, her chin held high despite the growing tension in the air. She had been prepared for a life of duty and had resolved to meet this challenge with civility. Her father had told her that alliances between noble houses were the foundation of the realm's stability, and she was determined to do her part.

Queen Alicent, watching from a discreet distance, hoped that this walk would at least lead to some form of understanding between the betrothed. She knew that her son's disdain for the arrangement was only matched by Olira's quiet determination to make the best of it.

Aegon broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, Lady Olira, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Embroidery? Singing songs of love and honor?"

Olira's patience was wearing thin, and she finally replied, her tone cool and measured. "I find solace in reading, Your Grace. History, politics, and strategies of war interest me."

Aegon scoffed. "Of course, books. Just what every young lady dreams of. I prefer the sword and the thrill of combat, something you probably find rather unladylike."

Olira's eyes flashed with irritation, but she maintained her composure. "Not unladylike, Your Grace, simply different. I believe that knowledge can be a powerful weapon as well."

The tension between them was palpable, but Queen Alicent had hoped that their shared time in the garden would lead to at least a civil conversation. She decided to intervene, approaching the young couple with a smile that barely masked her concern.

"Enjoying the garden, my dears?" the queen inquired, her voice warm but tinged with a subtle hint of authority.

Aegon and Olira exchanged a glance, both recognizing the queen's intent to bridge the gap between them. Aegon grumbled under his breath, but Olira took the opportunity to be diplomatic.

"Yes, Your Grace," Olira replied with a forced smile. "The garden is truly beautiful."

Queen Alicent nodded in approval. "Good. You have much to learn about each other, but I have faith that you will find common ground. After all, you both have the best interests of the realm at heart."

As the queen continued to speak, Aegon and Olira exchanged polite nods, masking their true feelings. The walk in the gardens had done little to change their initial impressions of each other, but they both knew that their future was inexorably tied to the success of this betrothal.

And so, they would have to find a way to navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead, one step at a time, whether they liked it or not.

Olira subtly shifted the conversation, attempting to steer it toward the subjects she knew would capture Prince Aegon's interest. As they walked through the garden, she spoke of the lavish feasts, celebrations, and wine tastings she had attended in Storm's End, emphasizing the pleasures of fine wines and the art of winemaking. She couldn't help but notice Aegon's attention wavering from his mother's discussion about politics and alliances to her words.

Aegon's eyes brightened, and he leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You enjoy wine, Lady Olira?"

Olira nodded with a warm smile, her intuition proving correct. "Indeed, Your Grace. The variety of wines and the craftsmanship that goes into making them have always fascinated me. The different flavors, the stories behind each vintage, it's like experiencing a piece of history with every sip."

Aegon's demeanor relaxed as he found himself engaged in a conversation more to his liking. "I couldn't agree more. There's something captivating about the way a good wine can transport you to another world, even if only for a moment."

Encouraged by his response, Olira continued, "Perhaps one day, we could share a fine bottle of wine and exchange stories of our favorite vintages. It would be a pleasant diversion from the weight of our responsibilities."

Aegon's initial reluctance to spend time with Olira seemed to be melting away as they discussed their shared interest in wine. He chuckled, a rare smile gracing his features. "You might be onto something, Lady Olira. I could use a distraction from all these talks of alliances and politics."

Queen Alicent observed the change in her son's demeanor, pleased that Olira had managed to capture his attention and steer their conversation in a more enjoyable direction.

As they continued their walk, Aegon and Olira discussed their favorite wines, their experiences at various feasts and celebrations, and their shared desire for moments of respite from the demands of their noble birthright.

Olira had achieved her goal of establishing a connection with Aegon, recognizing that they shared a common interest that went beyond the political union their families had arranged. It was a small victory, but one that held promise for their future together, despite the challenges that lay ahead.

As Aegon and Olira continued to discuss their shared interest in wine, the atmosphere between them lightened, and for a brief moment, it seemed they might find common ground. However, Aegon, known for his brash and sometimes thoughtless remarks, made a comment that shattered the fragile connection they had been building.

With a chuckle, he leaned in closer to Olira and said, "You know, Lady Olira, I've always found the intricacies of wine to be similar to women. Each one has its own unique flavor, and sometimes it's best to savor them all before settling for just one."

Olira's face froze, her smile vanishing. Aegon's comment had not only offended her as a lady but had also revealed his casual and somewhat disrespectful attitude towards women. The disappointment and hurt simmered beneath her stoic expression, but she knew better than to engage in an argument.

"I see," she replied, her voice cool and composed. "Well, Your Grace, I believe I've had my fill of wine and this conversation for today. Please excuse me."

With a polite nod to Aegon and a curtsey to Queen Alicent, Olira turned and gracefully retreated from the garden. Her composure remained intact, but inside, she was seething with indignation and disappointment. She had hoped for a connection, but Aegon's remark had shattered any goodwill she had felt.

As Olira made her way back to her chambers, she couldn't help but wonder how she would navigate this new challenge in her role as Aegon's betrothed. The road to understanding and acceptance seemed longer and more arduous than she had anticipated.

The night Olira changed into her sleep wear before shooing away her handmaidens. The all left her without a word thinking she was going to sleep. She took a deep breath trying to summon as much courage as she could before walking over to the door opening it to show her sword guard, a man she did not know given to her by the king.

"Ser if you will, can you bring me a cup of water, I seem to have already drank that was left in the chamber" The guard turned to look at her. She let out a fake squeal an d hid behind the door.

"Ser please, I am underdressed, just bring me the water and place it inside by the door without looking, I am betrothed to the prince and wish not to tarnish my reputation" She faked a distressed voice, she had mastered the art of voice manipulation ever since she was a young girl. She used it to freak her sisters into thinking she was crying or get them in trouble by using it on their father to get what she wanted.

"Yes of course, my lady" He nodded before scurrying away. Olira smirked before slipping out of her room. She walked as lightly as possible on her feet down the corridors. She had been here before once and somehow still remembered some of the corridors that led to the royal family wing.

She hid behind the corner to see who was there. There was only one guard standing in front of Aegon's bedroom door. She smirked seeing that she needed only to distract him. She looked around her and found a small rock, big enough to fit in her palm, perfect. She scurried behind a huge statue of what looked like The Mother before throwing the rock to the other side of the corridor.

"Who goes there?" Seconds later came the sound of heavy feet walking over. Olira held her breath watching through the small hole between the arm and body of the statue. The guard walked over looking around in search of the intruder. He walked further and further down the corridor with his hand on the hilt of the sword.

Olira moved from behind the statue once he passed her and moved as quickly and quietly as possible. She felt pride fill her when she reached the door and no one stopped her. She opened it and threw herself in before closing it. Aegon was sat on his bed, his back against the headboard, naked as the day he was born. His eyes widened when he saw her, she stood with her back against the door, panting lightly.

"What in the seven hells...?" He pulled one of the pillows to hide his lower region. Olira was actually shocked he had the decency.

"Surprised to see me?" She smirked, cocking an eyebrow up at him. Aegon scoffed rolling his eyes at her.

"Well no shit, what do you want? Where is my guard?" He asked. He moved to stand up with the pillow tightly clutched in his hands to cover his lower parts.

"Well your guard may have gone on a small walk, he will be back soon" She shrugged her shoulders. She moved to walk closer to him slowly. Her lips high in a smirk that sent shiver down aegon's back.

"What do you want?" Aegon asked. He frowned when she moved even closer to him until they were almost chest to chest with one another.

"I want to punish you, my bad prince" She answered simply. Aegon huffed and moved to push her with one hand but she used both to push him first making him fall back onto his bed.

"Punish me? How dare you, I am the prin..." Aegon's words froze in his mouth when she kneeled down to her knees.

"You've been mean to me, my prince" She wrapped her hands around the edges of the pillow, slowly pulling it away. Aegon tried to resist but her words sent a shock of pleasure straight down to his cock.

"I do not know of what you speak" He tried to justify himself. She smirked shaking her head while clicking her tongue. The pillow now was fully away and seated on the bed.

Olira's eys moved down from his face to look at his chest then torso and lasly his hard cock, standing proud and ready to be pleasured. Aegon's breath got caught in his throat when she reached up and grabbed him at the base.

"I wish to show you the benefit of marrying me, my prince" Olira started moving her hand up and down slowly, teasingly.

"Go on then" Aegon smirked. He looked down watching her face as she slowly moved her hand up and down his shaft. He can see that she did not have much if any experience.

He placed his hand on top of her own and started guiding her. His heart soared at the feeling of her soft hands on his member. She watched the movement with caution, trying to learn. Poor thing came to seduce him ony for her to lose control without even noticing.

"Dirty girl, you came here to fuck your prince?" Aegon teased her. Her head snapped up so fast he feared she may have given herself a whiplash.

"I do not wish to fuck my prince, I simply want to show him reason" She answered. She retrieved her hand but he kapt a hold on it making sure she does not run away.

"But what if your prince wishes to fuck you?" He asked, his grip tightening on her hand. He slowly began pulling it up, watching as her eyes widened in almost fear.

"Then I advice him to go find a whore, for I am not one" She responded harshly. She tried to pull away, successfully and made her way to the door.

Aegon was quick on his feet, placing his hand on the door before she could open in and held it in place. She gasped shocked and turned to face him confused.

"Your prince shall not force you, dirty girl, but he wishes for the same luxury" Aegon placed his other hand on the door trapping her between his naked body and the door.

"What ever do you mean?" She murmured, he was so close, his nose touched her own and her eyes were fighting not to close. His body heat was engulfing her along with his smell, he smelled like flowers and wine. She had heard he rarely bathed meaning his mother had forced him to bathe before they took their walk together.

"You wanted to show me the benifit of our marriage, I want to do the same" Aegon answered. he leaned his forehead on her own, nuzzling his nose with her own sensing the way she shuddered at his touch.

"What is it you w-wish to show me" She sighed. He leaned down almost like he wanted to kiss her only to dodge her lips and move down to his knees, fully naked and against the door.

"What are you doing?" She whimpered. He pushed up her skirts making her squeal in surprise.

"If you wish for us not to be caught, you should stay quiet" Aegon delivered a slap to her exposed thigh. Olira slapped a hand to her mouth and waited.

Aegon moved her small cloth to the side exposing her cunt fully to him. He smirked seeing her so wet, she probably did not even know why she was wet, women in her station were usually taught that only the man found pleasure and to lay back and take it while the man enjoys himself.

"Aegon" Her whispered was muffled by her hand when he blew lightly on her cunt.

Aegon ignored her and dived right in without a second thought. Letting a moan at the mere taste of her lower lips. Olira felt her knees growing weak at the feel of him.

Aegon pushed his tongue inside of her knowing it will not hurt her nor will it take her virtue away. His hands wrapped tightly at her calfs. One slid up and up slowly to hold her thigh making sure it stayed open. He gripped the flesh so hard it will surely bruise soon.

Olira tried her best to hide the moans tryin to escape her lips, it was harder than she thought it to be. Her hand that was attempting to open the door snapped down to grab the bright locks of Aegon, who shook his head from side to side nudging her numb with his nose with each shake.

Aegon hummed at the taste of her arousal increasing with each swipe of his tongue. He pulled back from her cunt and moved one of his hands, he held his thumb out and ran it over her pearl. Olira's legs began to shake as he swiped over it with his thumb over and over again.

"Such a dirty girl, growing wetter with each touch as if you expected it" Aegon smirked watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. She shook her head trying to deny his words but being unable to even speak. She felt so much pleasure and pressure.

Aegon used his other hand to raise one of her legs and rest it upon his shoulder before diving right back it. Tongue swiping over her slit before sinking inside of her. Olira's head fell back against the door with a loud bang.

"Are you alright, your grace?" The guard outside asked, he must have returned during the ordeal.

Aegon removed his mouth from Olira's cunt debating if he should answer but his thumb did not cease it's movement. He decided that he was feeling merciful for her and responded "Alright, just banged my foot"

Olira's whole body tensed feeling a strong pressure in her lower region. Her hand in his hair pushed him closer to her cunt. Aegon obeyed sensing her shakiness increasing faster than normal. His eyes watched her with his tongue deep inside of her, he moved his tongue with as much speed as he could go.

Olira had to fight a shout when the most intense wave of pleasure hit her. She had never felt something like this before in her life. Aegon chuckled when she began sinking down against the door. He pushed her leg off his shoulder so she wouldn't hurt herself. Instead he pulled away and moved to stand up.

"That w-was ... what are you doing mff.." Olira looked up at Aegon about to praise whatever he had done only for him to place a hand over her mouth.

"I am not done, dirty girl, open your mouth" He ordered. She obeyed opening her mouth slightly not know what he wanted.

Aegon chuckled shaking his head but gave her the benefit of the doubt. Not noticing he had grabbed the bace of his cock too busy looking over his face, the way his eyes lit up when meeting hers. She gasped in shock when he placed the tip of his cock on her lips.

"Open up, dirty girl" Aegon tapped her lips with his cock. Olira opened her mouth enough for him to begin pushing his cock inside of her mouth. Aegon deciding to be gentle moved his cock inside slowly until the hair on the top touched her nose. She pushed him off coughing and chocking much to his amusement.

"I said open up" Aegon delivered a small yet firm tap, almost a slap, to her cheek. She gasped but obeyed his order. He pushed his cock inside of her mouth again massaging her head to comfort her while his own head fell back with a loud groan.

"Now suck, dirty girl"

The unexpected change in Aegon's attitude did not go unnoticed in the Red Keep. The court was abuzz with whispers and speculations about the prince's sudden transformation. He had gone from being openly opposed to his betrothal to Olira Baratheon to becoming positively smitten with her.

Alicent Hightower, Queen of Westeros, observed her son's transformation with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. She had orchestrated this betrothal for the sake of political unity and stability, but seeing Aegon genuinely taken with Olira was a pleasant surprise.

Aegon's courtship of Olira was a marked departure from his usual pursuits of wine and women. He showered her with attention, gifting her flowers of various colors and varieties, each bouquet more exquisite than the last. He composed heartfelt letters, seeking her company at every opportunity, and displayed an uncharacteristic tenderness when they were together.

Olira, who had initially been taken aback by Aegon's earlier behavior, found herself touched by his gestures and drawn to his newfound gentleness. She realized that beneath his brash exterior, there was a man capable of genuine affection and kindness.

As the wedding date drew nearer, Aegon's enthusiasm for the union only grew. The court could hardly believe the transformation in the young prince, who was now eagerly anticipating his marriage to Olira. Some whispered that love had blossomed between them, while others attributed it to Olira's charm and influence.

The queen herself was pleased with the turn of events. Aegon's affection for Olira had brought a sense of unity and harmony to the court, and she had no doubt that their union would strengthen the bonds between House Targaryen and House Baratheon.

And so, as the day of their wedding approached, Aegon and Olira stood on the precipice of a new chapter in their lives. The young prince, once opposed to the match, was now eager to become the husband of the woman who had captured his heart. Their love, unexpected as it may have been, had the potential to shape the future of Westeros in ways no one could have foreseen.

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flowerandblood · 1 year

Text

The Impossible Choice (45)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: violence, character death ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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He spent the last hours before marching off snuggled in her womb, from above his head surrounded by her arms and breasts, from below her thigh placed on his torso. He lay with his eye closed thinking of nothing, feeling only the pounding of her heart, concentrating on the gentle touch of her hand stroking his hair.

He felt safe.

He tried to pretend he couldn't hear his wife's struggling to stop spasms of crying, her whole body trembling around him. Once in a while he kissed her almost invisibly rounded abdomen, hugging his cheek to it again a moment later, and began to wonder what their child might look like.

Would it have his silver hair, or would it be dark like his mother's? What would be the colour of his eyes? The shape of his nose? Would it have a calm, gentle character or explosive and fiery? Would it be a son or a daughter?

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that he might not know the answers to these questions.

With his eye closed, he imagined their child in the arms of his beloved wife, singing him a lullaby to sleep. He imagined that he lay with his face cradled in her neck, his hand, his fingers capable of such cruel violence and brutality stroking infant's tiny hand clenched into a fist.

He felt tears under his eyelids at this wonderful vision of the ordinary, peaceful evening where it was just them, the only thing that mattered to him, his wife and his offspring safe in the shelter of his arms.

He wanted that vision to become a reality.

He wanted to come back to her.

He wanted to see their child.

Part of him regretted his decision, the fact that he had decided they would set out, make the first move. Part of him wished he could wait for the inevitable, not be aware of when it would happen and enjoy her closeness for as long as he could.

He prayed that the time to leave would not come, but finally a servant walked into their tent. He immediately looked away, embarrassed to see them completely naked and informed him that everything was ready. He heard his wife sobbing loudly, burying her face in her hands.

She was unable to look at him as the boy put on his armour, and he felt pain like he had never known before in his life.

He couldn't chase away the thoughts of death, of never seeing her, their child or his mother again.

Thoughts of how Daeron might have died with him, without really experiencing any of the joys of life.

When he was ready he ordered a servant to tell the commanders that he would join them immediately. He looked at his wife and saw her looking at him, pale, her eyes and nose red and puffy from crying, her swollen lips parted slightly in heavy breaths.

She was terrified.

He approached her slowly and knelt before her, gripping her cheeks in his hands.

"Remember what I told you." He whispered and placed a warm, sticky kiss on her forehead, then turned and left, regardless her silent cries from which his heart was breaking.

When he came out he was overwhelmed by the sight of so many troops, all the warriors ready to march, in full armour, looking at him uncertainly.

The sun was just setting.

He merely nodded at Lord Baratheon, then looked at his younger brother and the two of them set off for the hill where their dragons rested.

When he saw Tessarion, the blue, slender dragoness lying next to Vhagar she seemed tiny to him and he tightened his lips at the thought.

He thought he was taking his brother to the slaughter.

In a clash with Caraxes, he didn't stand a chance.

He had to protect him at all costs.

He stopped his brother with a hand gesture, placing his hand on his shoulder. Daeron was all pale and looked somewhere in the distance, tense.

"Look at me, brother." He said to him, forcing himself to be calm, but he felt his own voice tremble, betraying his fear as well. His younger brother glanced at him uncertainly, swallowing loudly.

He walked over to him and grasped his face in his hands.

"You are to be my support and stay back. Observe the situation. If more dragons appear than we anticipated, if you realise that the battle is lost, you will withdraw. Do you understand? You will flee. To King's Landing or anywhere else." He said lowly, looking him straight in the eye. Daeron shook his head, swallowing loudly.

"What are you saying?" He asked in a trembling voice, and his lips tightened.

"Don't try to be a hero. Promise me." He said firmly, looking at him with his lips tightened. Daeron swallowed loudly, and for a long moment answered nothing.

"I won't let you down, brother." He said with a childlike certainty from which his heart fluttered. He leaned over and kissed his hair, his first affectionate gesture towards his sibling that he could remember.

"You're meant to survive." He said and let him go, his brother looking at him in disbelief and horror.

"Let's go." He ordered turning towards Vhagar, climbing with difficulty onto her back.

After a moment, they both lifted themselves into the air with a tremble of earth, complete darkness already around them. He saw his army from below, moving behind him, Vhagar and Tessarion gliding across the night sky in complete silence.

They had to maintain the effect of surprise.

They couldn't be loud, they couldn't move too fast.

The attack on the Eyrie was going to be brutal and merciless, burning everything around it and those inside.

He wanted Daemon to feel what he felt when he watched his uncle burn Harrenhal.

When, after several hours, he finally caught sight of the outline of the fortress of House Arryn, he glanced distantly at his brother, who nodded to him.

They moved between the hills so as not to be spotted from afar, however Vhagar was so large that it required great effort and concentration for him to guide her.

He could feel the sweat running down his back, his heart pounding in his chest like mad, the bright moon and clear sky over his head.

Suddenly the high fortress seemed at his fingertips, he had the impression that he saw a stir, that several of the guards saw their death approaching silently in the sky.

It was now or never.

"DRACARYS!" He heard his own loud shout and then saw Vhagar open her maw, the night flashed with the light of a wave of fire that erupted suddenly from her throat.

He heard the screams of the guards and the people who were probably inside the fortress now from afar.

Daeron moved to follow him, both of them burning everything they saw around them, tents of the Daemon's army, their soldiers, their horses, their supplies.

The wails and sobs of the people were like music to his ears, the conviction that they had just been slaughtered.

That they had really managed to surprise them.

They were burning not just to destroy the enemy.

They were burning to clear a path for their army, so that they could see what was happening around them and so that they could take advantage of the confusion surrounding them.

He glanced over his shoulder, panting heavily, and saw the cavalry under the command of his uncle and his wife's father moving forward, killing men along the way who had not burned.

Slaughter.

Fire and Blood.

He thought with a beating heart that his plan was working.

Daemon really did think he was a coward, had underestimated him and was now paying the price.

He glanced quickly at Daeron, wanting to be sure he was safe.

And then he heard it – a loud roar of Caraxes in the distance, her silhouette moving nimbly across the sky in the moonlight. He spotted out of the corner of his eye behind her two other figures of smaller dragons and pressed his lips together.

He ordered Vhagar to turn back, Daeron retreated with him and began circling over his army, which was just crushing their assembled forces of Northern Lords, Velaryons and Arryns. He swallowed loudly when he noticed that Caraxes was accompanied by Vermax and Moondancer.

Jace and Baela.

He smiled at the thought that Rhaenys was not with them.

She had stayed in Dragonstone with Rhaenyra, waiting for the sign from Daemon to attack King's Landing when he and his men attacked their army with their new dragon riders.

Not going to happen, he thought.

Several things happened suddenly and his mind could barely keep up with what was going on – Caraxes opened her maw and breathed fire, but Vhagar did the same, the two pillars of fire colliding in mid-air. He only heard something fly past him and turned his head behind his shoulder.

Vermax and Moondancer moved on their army, as Borros had predicted, one of them wanted try to distract Vhagar, so he could not protect them.

He watched with a pounding heart as Daeron came out to face them with courage despite his dragon being much smaller, waves of fire burning in the sky around them.

He wanted Vhagar to turn back, however, she angrily pushed against Caraxes who did a backward turn and retreated, pulling him away from the battlefield at the same time.

"Dohaerās, Vhagar! Rȳbās! (Serve me, Vhagar! Obey!)" He shouted, pulling at the ropes in an attempt to turn her back, but his dragoness went into a fury, chasing after his uncle's dragon with such ferocity that Caraxes could barely keep up to take evasive action against the subsequent flames.

He looked to the side and saw his brother fighting a hopeless two-on-one battle trying with all his might to draw Jace and Baela away from their troops.

Suddenly Caraxes rose high into the air and twisted like a serpentine, turning, and he saw his uncle fly over, leaping down along with his Dark Sister straight at him.

He thought it was over.

There was no way he could have avoided his blow.

He would not keep his promise.

He was going to die.

He grabbed his sword, and then he saw it.

He saw his uncle's neck cut by a crossbow arrow, his face expressed surprise, his body involuntarily beginning to fall to the ground.

He heard the mighty roar of Caraxes, who rushed after her rider's body as if to come to his rescue, however, his body fell from such a height onto a stone hill that he could not have survived.

Vhagar moved down behind her while he looked to the side, trying to retrace the flight of the arrow, and spotted Lord Borros looking up on him on his horse, crossbow in his hand.

Although my mother treats my wife as her daughter, you do not treat me as your son.

He felt a squeeze in his throat and an ache in his heart.

He felt like a little boy who wanted to cry with happiness that his father had arrived on time.

As if his father had managed to come to his aid before Luke took his eye from him.

A feeling poured over his heart that he had not known before, though he so painfully craved it.

A feeling of awe, a feeling of gratitude, a feeling of filial love for a father who had stood up for him.

Who had protected him.

And then he heard Baela's scream so loud that it echoed throughout the valley.

"DRACARYS!!!!!!"

He saw Borros disappear in a wave of fire and shouted loudly, clasping his hands on his saddle, leaning forward, an exasperated 'Angōs!' ripped from his throat.

Vhagar's snout opened, and the screech and howl of Caraxes echoed around him as her fangs crushed part of his body, turning back, releasing what was left of him. Beala rushed at him with a yell and ordered Moondancer to breathe fire towards his dragon, but he only laughed out loud.

This fucking whore.

He thought she would pay him for that.

She would pay him for killing their father.

Moondancer was fast and agile, but she was frightened by the size of Vhagar and turned back despite the desperate cries of her rider.

She had stopped listening to her, he thought with amusement bordering on madness.

Vhagar's snout opened again as he commanded her to breathe fire, but a loud screech caught his attention.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Vermax's maw clamped over Tessarion's throat, wrestling with each other through the skies. He could only watch helplessly as the dragoness, along with his brother, fell from the heavens crashing to the ground.

His heart stopped.

No.

Not him.

Even though he had Beala at his fingertips he changed his direction of flight and thrust at Jace with a furious roar, a pillar of fire left Vhagar's mouth from which Vermax barely managed to dodge. His nephew was sure he had escaped and soared upwards.

And then suddenly a third dragon appeared in front of them.

Sunfyre.

Aegon.

It was his answer to his letter.

Vermax panicked finding himself suddenly between two dragons, he heard Jace shouting, ordering him to dive down, but it was too late, Lord Strong disappeared into the jaws of Sunfyre, whose jaws clamped down on his dragon, tearing it in half.

He could feel it ringing in his ears.

Daemon and Jace were dead.

From that moment the battle was a foregone conclusion. Baela had disappeared between the hills, probably flying to inform the Black Whore of the death of her husband and first-born son.

His heart was torn by such extreme emotions that he felt like screaming.

He ordered Vhagar to land where he noticed Tessarion had fallen – he saw that her corpse had crushed body of his younger brother, who was lying beneath her.

He slid down from Vhagar's back, above him again and again the night sky was lit by the glow of Sunfyre fire, burning the remnants of the Black army that had fled.

He fell to his knees feeling that his legs refused to obey him, panting all over and struggling to run up to his brother. He saw that Daeron was breathing, his eyes wide open, his body from the waist down crushed by the dead body of his dragoness.

He tried with all his strength to slide her body off him and when he finally succeeded, he saw that his body was broken. He stared at this sight as if stupefied and touched his face, his brother still staring ahead.

"– brother – brother, look at me –" He said pleadingly, but he did not speak, a whine came from his throat.

He saw a ripple of blood come out of his mouth, which he gulped down as tears trickled from his eyes.

He lifted him higher, holding his head so that he did not suffocate, but the blood did not stop pouring from his mouth. He cried out loudly, not knowing how to help him, so he just pressed his face against his temple, holding him close, feeling his body convulse, and then suddenly he was silent, his body limp and sprawled in his arms.

He could feel his heart pounding hard, feel his uneven breathing, feel his body twitching.

"− Daeron? − brother − please −" He mumbled, but it seemed to him that it was not his voice, so squeaky, high-pitched, trembling. He stroked his cheek, his brother's empty eyes looking somewhere to the side.

His whole hands were dirty from his blood.

"− brother, wake up −" He said quietly, shaking him, as if he had walkend into his chamber in the morning and wanted to wake him up.

He could not be dead.

He could not.

He combed his soft hair, looking at the boy's face, the child's face, and felt pain, felt shame that it was he who had cooled his cruelty, advised him in his letters with the wisdom of an old man, always ready to support him, always offering his love and devotion.

And he had never told him how much he meant to him.

He seemed so small to him now in that great, cold armour.

"− little brother − please −" He called out loudly, helplessly, from deep in his throat.

He pressed his fingers to his face and burst into sobs, unable to look at him, at the dead face of his beloved younger brother, the most innocent of them all.

"− forgive me −" He whimpered in his ear, cradling him in his arms like a small child. "− forgive me − forgive me − forgive me − forgive me − forgive me −"

He did not know how long he sat like this, did not feel the ground tremble as Sunfyre landed beside Vhagar, Aegon shouting to him, informing him about their great victory.

He did not see how he froze suddenly, standing over him, did not hear him say their brother's name, did not hear him cry and whine like an animal, falling to his knees beside him, pressing his face against Daeron's armour.

In that moment, they were nothing more than brothers.

_____

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