#daeron targaryen x reader

[missglaskin]

Aegon and Aemond unlocking an exhibitionism kink after the public consummation and became terrors in the Red Keep. They have traumatized enough lords, courtiers, servants, knights because they can't simply keep their hands and c*cks off of you. Otto's hairline probably keeps reducing everytime he catches the three of you in the throne room minutes before the court starts and he does not have the heart to tell Alicent that the small chambers have also been baptized by the brothers' insatiable desires.

Don't even get him started about what he has witnessed in the Tower of the Hand, his own freaking domain in the Red Keep! And these incidents have increased even more now that you have started to swell with child. By seven, it's as though they want you to get even more pregnant (some lecherous lords and ladies had even started betting who the child will resemble the most).

Also denies Daeron's request to go home because he can see the glint in Aemond and Aegon's eyes when their little brother is mentioned. Nope, he doesn't need another traumatized septon and his grandsons telling him and the small council that you can take a third husband (tho now he questions if this is really what you want). 🙈

It's been a while since I wrote anything smuttish so I am a bit rusty

The scandal your polyramous marriage has already caused was enough. But the rumors swirling throughout the court of the king and the prince have left most unsure either to be disgusted by your lewd behaviors or sympathetic to how you can seem to keep up with the two. You three have caused the council to deeply regret making the consummation public. 

Aemond is expected to be the mature one and initially he was a bit cautious. But jealousy ignites within him as he watches just how shameless you and Aegon are. Not even from a far distance at parties, clothes are already discarded or how the two of you seem to dance so provocatively with one another. He even wonders if others have chosen to ignore the roaming hands under the table or if they are just that blind to them. 

But it only takes one push. Just one for the one-eyed prince to succumb to temptation once more. He can thank your pretty lips for that, the same lips that feel soft against his cock. The brothers are engaged in a vicious rivalry to see who can please you more, on who can get you to scream their names louder.

The servants have learned to work even when they can hear your moans reverberate through the walls and the knights are perhaps regretting every bit of their existence. It's safe to say that the majority of the court has been traumatized including the hand of the king. Otto has learned by now that his lectures have gone on deaf ears and finds himself having to take a deep breath when news reaches his ears on how servants have reported hearing noises from the library. Alicent chooses to make herself ignorant of the rumors; she expected such behavior from one son, but for the two, she nearly passed away from shock.

When news reached you were now with a child, most of the court felt relieved. There was an unfortunate belief that men found their wives less desiring when swollen and heavy. But if anything, it appears both brothers' lust gets more insatiable by the day.

Daeron's visit becomes a point of concern for Otto, wanting to prevent any more possible scandals. Daeron almost has a lingering innocence that makes it easy to corrupt. It’s almost as if his brothers encourage him to give into his temptation, just to spend the night as if it were merely a taste, like they know it’s all he needs to come back for more.

Almost everyone has quickly noticed the way Daeron’s gaze never seems to leave you, whether at dinners or in hallways. And it’s not long before another scandal reaches the king’s hand and the queen regent.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died

[eludin]

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: Addiction themes, sexual content, manipulation, dark themes, incest (this is Westeros people), grooming, and possibly more in the future.

The Realm's Delight wasn't Rhaenyra Targaryen once Vyera Waters started walking and talking. She was unaffected by the sexual moments held within the brothel she called home and would often approach the clients without hesitation. The whores around her try to coral her away, but she had her father's stubbornness. She slipped out of their grasp and pestered the clients for their stories since most were knights, children of lords, or lords in general.

She grinned widely and listened with apt attention, easily washing away the agitation they may have had with a bastard brat bothering their fun times. She made cute and sometimes strange noises at certain parts of the story, dramatically reacting at the more messy bits. They laughed at her very open reactions.

The Gold Cloaks quickly turned into regulars, bearing toys, books, and whatever a little princess could wish for. One smile from Vyera and they melted. They proudly told her stories, not only of themselves but also of her father. They listened just as attentively when she shared stories from her dreams; of talking cats whose grins sent a chill down one's spine and who vanished and reappeared before your eyes, hot deserts with horses made from sand threatening to bury you deep within the dunes, or riding the back of a bird the size of a dragon with feathers made of steal.

Ariston Algood smiled as the girl flipped through her new book. Many prayed for the poor girl to be the occasional late bloomer. That was the only thing keeping her from being thrown into the beasts' den.

Just one more day, one more month, one more year without that light that shone from within her being snuffed out by scum who desired to torment and corrupt that light.

Yet, no Gods answered their prayers.

She had bled a day prior and was now dressed in provocative clothing. No longer the baggy rags she used to wore, but a dress made of thin, almost see through, fabric. It looked peculiar on a girl of nine name days. Only the worst of scum would find pleasure in the sight.

"Riz?"

He smiled and patted her head. "Thinking, squirrel."

Vyera rolled her and scowled at the words sprawled on the page. "Dragon, not squirrel." Her words didn't fit her cuteness as she pouted and patted the thick pages. "And you're supposed to be teaching me how to pronounce these words."

Ariston laughed and joined her on the bed. Books with varying thickness surrounded her and most he never cared to read until Vyera. They never seemed all that interesting. It was just words on the page. What good were words when actions could be seen centuries after the person had passed? Yet, she hugged them close as if they were a fine treasure worth more than the gold mines at Casterly Rock. She brightened up at the usual pleasures, like jewels and beautiful dresses and gifts, but books got a loud and vibrant reaction.

She bounced off the walls of the Whore's Blood Brothel with each book, eagerly snatching from any offering hand and pestering the person to read it with her.

Some of the married lords who visited bonded more with her than their own children. "I wish my children had such a hunger for knowledge as you," said the Heir of Blanetree, running his fingers through her locks. She had preened under his touch and giggled, like a dog eager for treats and praises.

Lord Broom sighed, "A whore's daughter knows duty and grace better than my own daughter."

"Such a pity."

None did anything to change her situation; not that the girl complained. She clung to her mother and the brothel as any child would cling to their home and their mother. A year or two more and that opinion would certainly change.

Ariston leaned closer to Vyera and looked over the page. "Where are you finding difficulty understanding?"

"What does this mean?" she taps at the word abomination.

Fuck.

He peaked at the book's name. Just as he thought, it spoke of the Faith. "Uh... Something going against the order of the Gods. Like, um... the... the Children of the Forest with their magic." Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. "Don't you want to read something else?"

Vyera frowned and stared at him. For a Dragonseed, she resembled her father incredibly close yet there were a few traits none knew where they came from. They knew without uncertainty that Narelle of the Whore's Blood was the girl's mother. Yet she carried traits neither side of her lineage granted. Her eyes were golden and flecked with silver. Her canine teeth were ever so slightly pointier and sharper than most. Even as a child, her features were already showing a sharpness no girl her age naturally possessed. Unlike either parent, she possessed an innate glow that simply compelled every man who entered her presence to shower her with gifts, praises, and affection. Some were less pure than others, but she paid little mind to those types.

Her expression softened once she saw whatever there was in his eyes. "No need. Tis' truly fascinating to read how certain sorts of individuals view the world." She paused, and added, "And don't worry about the stuff on bastards. It doesn't hurt me. I know who I am, and I am not everything that is written in this."

"You are none of what is written."

She smiled and pressed against his side. "Riz?"

"Hm?"

Vyera curled up and hugged herself. Instead of the girl he'd grown to care for, a child frightened off the future revealed herself to him. "The brothel master will want me to lose my maidenhead. Doesn't matter I am a child, he's gonna want evidence." She peaked at him through her dense locks. "I don't want it to be any of the others. I care for them, and I know they would never intend to hurt me. I... Please... Please be the first once my moonblood ends. I... I don't want it to be anyone else."

Oh, fuck… She… As much as he gagged at the thought of any of the Lords lusting over Vyera, it made painful sense.

Ariston was not that far in age from her. Only seven namedays apart. It was still strange yet… 

He looked down at the girl who skipped up to him, even when he was running his hands along her mother’s sides. Now that had been mortifying. She smiled widely and rushed him with a hundred different questions. Their second meeting didn’t go any better either. Neither did their third. Yet, she cared for him, eagerly listened to his stories of his home, of his older siblings, of his parents, and now… looked to him for protection from any who wished to destroy whatever innocence she protected with a tiny dagger.

He had no doubt she’d ask any of her other friends the same favor. After all, he couldn’t spend the entire day with her. His pockets did not boast such a fortune. And yet…

“If that is your wish.”

He couldn’t free her from the brothel’s clutches; he couldn’t shower her with luxurious gifts; he couldn’t protect her as he wished. But he could do this.

Vyera Waters smiled. A waning moon in comparison to the usual exuberance.

Want to be tagged? Comment down below "AYE"

@sanya-prose

@gpr2149

@prettylittlelady

@thirteenth-fangirl

@daughterofadream

[bucknastysbabe]

✾ Happy Bday To A Sweet Lil Kit Named Liv ✾

Therefore I present to you:

♕ The Brother F**king Incest Spectacular ♕

For u bb @fairysluna

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: incest, non/con|||dub/con, degrading language, bastard hating, DAERON IS AGED UP!!!!Greens won AU, Jace’s sister reader, gang bang, so much Incest, cunnilingus, sloppy seconds, double penetration, oral sex, pnv!sex, erotic crying, humiliation, Daeron is actually scared but likes her so they run off and be happy duh, Aemond and Aegon are Insane, multiple orgasms, rough sex, m/m/m/f, Jace is broken, why is there kinda angst? Idk

A/N: I don’t tend to lean toward non-con but the brother fucking incest spectacular had been brewed so read the warnings!

“Little Lord Strong,” Aemond sneered from the lofty bed, looking down with a haughty look on his sharp features. Jace squirmed and hissed at the one-eyed prick. His dear sister was pinned between Aemond’s lean legs, face red and teary.

Daeron was quiet, a terrified look on his face as he watched the scene.

Aegon, ever the deviant, palmed himself through his breeches, other hand petting Jace’s poor sister’s hair. He was grinning wildly, violet eyes fervent with glee. He giggled as his younger brother prattled on. Aemond cocked his head towards his siblings and said, “Well. You know what they say about bastards. Lustful, devious sort. I bet she’ll open up like a Lyseni pillow girl.”

Jace barked, “Fuck you! All of you are the deviants! Defiling my maiden sister for what?”

Aegon snorted, “She’s a lovely vixen, we won and you didn’t. Therefore we get our war prizes. Wanted to see what your cunt of a mother was so infatuated by a house as shite as the Strongs.” Jace grimaced and squirmed under his bindings, chest aching at the mention of his true father. The one who had taught him to be a man. He didn’t feel much like one.

Aegon yanked back her hair and got a good look at doe brown eyes, watery with tears, lips swollen more-so than usual. She pled, “Please, please, I cannot help being o-of this nature. Have mercy my king, have mercy!” The giddiness of Aegon’s face morphed into anger.

He hissed in her face, spittle flying, “Did your lovely mother and the rogue cunt give my children mercy?”

She wailed in sorrow, apologizing for something she had nothing to do with. Aemond was wielding the Valyrian ceremonial knife, pointing it towards Jacaerys. He sniffed, “Yes, Lord Strong, was there mercy when your dead brother took my eye, slaughtered my kin, set the kingdom aflame for a seat that belonged to us trueborn?”

Jacaerys remained silent, fidgeting in his bonds, trying to find a way out. There was murder and kinslaying on both sides. The bastard thought he was justified for little Luke. Jace was angry and humiliated. Tears fell down his darkened cheeks. Daeron spoke up, a soft lilt to the youngest brother’s tone.

“You won’t get out of those. Learned the best knots down on the docks of Oldtown. Best if you just sat back and let it get on with. Customary,” he nervously looked to the elder blondes, “Customary right?”

Aegon popped up from his spewing of vitriol, laughing as he reached for more Arbor Red, “Yes, darling Daeron, customary to make sure any dragon blood gets more seed. We have to repopulate. Sorry you must get the leftover bitch as wife.”

Aemond shrugged, “She’s pretty. Had a Strong bitch in Harrenhal, witchy sort, but couldn’t trust a wench that played with magicks.” He began to take off his loose blouse, exposing pale scarred skin, lean and toned. Daeron was stockier, like Aegon but if the eldest didn’t overindulge. The king was a juxtaposition of tight burns and soft overfed flesh. Never a warrior, Jace knew that much.

Jace watched in agony as the boys divested their clothing. He sister wept and shook on the mattress, begging Daeron now. The youngest looked guilty, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” Aegon smacked the Prince from behind the head and chided, “This is your whore for tonight. Quit being the pansy.”

Daeron grumbled back, staring with flushed cheeks. Aemond pulled her ass up roughly, spreading tanned thighs, shapely from dragon riding. Jacaerys howled, “You accursed demon!” The one-eye hummed, “I’ve heard worse, Strong. Enjoy the show.”

Aegon was at full mast, eagerly stroking his thick cock, “As the king I get to fuck those pretty lips,” he smirked, “Aemond you can get her cunt. Daeron it’s either her ass or wait your turn. Feel her up a little, I don’t know.” Daeron’s lilac eyes bounced around the scene, pupils blowing at her gorgeous body, full breasts hanging below, obscene lips covered in drool.

“Go on Daeron, she’s drier than the Boneway,” Aemond frowned. Jace could hand the bastard that, he couldn’t bear to watch her be torn to shreds. Daeron’s body came closer to hers, a calloused hand tentatively rubbing her soft skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed a smidgeon, nervous eyes peeking around. The brunette had pretty lashes.

The daring himself murmured, “I shan’t treat you like this my lady, we’ll go back to Old Town. J-just feel me and the sensations. Please. Please.”

She whimpered quietly at Daeron engaged her in a gentle kiss, his hand finally coming to knead and tweak her pretty tits. “This isn’t amateur hour, back off, acting like Florian and Jonquil.” Aeg snatched her jaw and ordered, “Open, bastard whore.” She did so, shaking as Aegon dropped his spit into her mouth, easing his thick cockhead into the warm opening.

“That’s better, fuck,” Aegon moaned, eyes lolled. Aemond waited patiently, while he grinned at Jace. He mused, “So easy, so pliable. That’s why your mother liked it. Wanted to control everything, the bitch.” Jace gritted back, “Your mother was a stone cold bitch and we all knew it!”

The Velaryon fumed with anger, eyes flickering to where Aegon was moaning with delight, Daeron caressing and kissing on her smooth skin. His cheeks reddened at where his thoughts were going. Merely a Targaryen instinct— inclination for the blood.

Daeron’s insistent kissing and licking had the princess biting off whines around Aegon’s cock. The king laughed, “Ah, there she is, little slut loves it after all.” Aemond played with her other entrance, feeling wetness begin to gather and dribble delightfully. He backed up and motioned towards the youngest.

“Actually, I want her wetter. Use your tongue Daeron.” Aegon giggled with glee at the idea, Jace groaned, and Daeron swallowed heavily.

He shuffled to her slit, pale eyes boggled at her most private part. His thumb slid through the moistened entrance, cock jumping in surprise. Daeron held up his thumb and suckled the essence off, eyelashes fluttering as he moaned.

“She taste s-sweet, hm?,” Aegon panted. He wouldn’t last long. Never did by all rumors and accounts. The slick noises of her mouth and Aegon’s lurid chattering was making Daeron grow impossibly hot under his skin. He grabbed handfuls of her pert ass and licked at her pretty petals, grinding into the bed.

“Seven hells— the mouth on this one!,” he giggled, “Lick at that bud Daeron, raa-right at the top, make her squeal and slick up.” The youngest did so, suckling on the hooded bud above her opening, inhaling her perfect natural scent. She squirmed and shook, crying out around Aegon. Daeron didn’t stop, intoxicated by his beautiful niece’s noises. She arched her back helplessly, whining.

Aegon gasped and pulled at her thick brown locks, shoving his cock deep into her throat— met with no resistance. He threw his short curls back, belly bouncing, lips agape. The king cried out, “Fuuuuck yess!” Jace saw his uncle’s balls draw tight and he emptied down her once pristine throat. He closed his eyes and whimpered, willing away the indecent thoughts. He could hear her coughing in the background.

Aegon, fuck dumb and lazy, pillowed himself back. He halfassedly gestured for Aemond to have her mouth. The lean man smirked as having her from this angle meant he could torture Jacaerys more. Daeron was busy exploring her, sticking fingers in and lapping excitedly.

“Slow down, you’ll blow before you get your cock in her cunny,” Aegon snorted.

Aemond easily got access, the Princess obediently opening her mouth, eyes far away and hazy. Cum was still wetting her chin, mixed with drool. Aemond wiped it away with the nearest cloth, finding a distaste to be so close to Aegon’s glob of spend. He tilted her head up so the taller Targaryen could ease his long cock down her throat.

“Stick your dick in already, she’s wetter than the Greenblood,” Aegon snapped, greedily gulping wine. He shouted, “Isn’t this just wonderful Jace! Maybe we’ll cut your cock off and make you a handmaiden to this lovely girl.” Jace whimpered, utterly broken and confused. He was so hard it hurt, yet everything disgusted him.

Daeron held his cock, lilac eyes focused on her hole, dipping the tip in, before getting shoved further by one of her frantic hands. Aemond laughed, “Mm! She likes you. We’ll all have to take a test filling her cunt up. Make sure the seed takes.”

The youngest brother’s vision grew blurry as he registered the delicious feeling surrounding his cock. It was better than anything he had tried on himself. She was warm, tight, and pulsing around Daeron’s member. He gripped her hips and fucked wildly, groaning and panting her name.

“Should have taken his virgin ass to the brothels in Old Town when we visited.”

“All the more fun, two little virgins, isn’t that right Lord Strong?,” Aemond jabbed in glee. Jace let out an agonized moan, his balls aching and full. His sister’s gorgeous cries and debauched frame was making him feel insane. Aegon’s nonsensical laugh broke through the haze, making Jace more ashamed…more aroused.

Daeron panted and laid kisses up her back, breathlessly praising, “Oh you feel so good, tell me what to do, please?” Aemond, snapping his hips into the Velaryon’s mouth jeered, “Listen to what the wretch had to say, touch her button.”

Aegon slurred, already stroking his cock again, “When she comes, s’like heaven, milking ya’ cock.”

Daeron reached around to settle between them, circling around her swollen nub, feeling her cunt pulse and hearing excited keening. He pinched and pulled harder, the cries turning into little whimpers as she drew tighter and tighter around him. Daeron felt his eyes crossing at the pressure, fucking harder in a last effort.

Aemond pinched a bouncing teat of hers and ordered, “Come now, Strong slut. Serve your superiors.” He pulled out and watched the scene, on his haunches. The brunette was wailing and crying Daeron’s name. “Oh Gods please, don’t stop, f-fa-feels s’good! What’s- oh my- happening?”

Jace never wished he could be freed more than now, eyes glued to her twitching body, plump lips shining in the dull light. His cock was leaking profusely, needing an outlet for his swollen sac. Daeron gasped as she gushed all over his cock, sniveling and sucking in breath. Tears leaked down her gorgeous face.

The youngest Targaryen just sat in a daze, her throbbing pussy hitting him with wave of wave of ecstasy, his cock unloading all he could have carried into her womb. He selfishly hoped his seed would take, so that his wife’s child was truly his. He kissed and rubbed on her until Aegon cast him aside, laughing, “My turn, lover boy.”

Daeron’s eyes flickered to Jace, whining softly with a red face. His cock had soaked the front of his small clothes, huge member swollen and needy. Gods, the depravity. He absently wondered if the girl was supposed to be Jace’s if it weren’t for the twins.

Aegon was a lazy fuck, making the girl get on top of him and ride and ride until her shaky legs gave out. The king smacked her ass roughly, barking, “You can do better than that with all that dragon riding. Lazy whore.” She whimpered and bounced harder, squeezing Aegon’s soft midsection tight. He moaned, “Soooo much better. Good little bitch.”

He filled her up next with a sloppy finish, leaving some on her belly and legs, proposing, “Since Jace is so needy, we should make him clean her up.” Aemond seemed to love that idea, eagerly fucking her into the soft bed, her legs thrown high up his long body.

He bit and sucked a collar of markings around her neck, snarling, “You belong to us now, no black, no-ngh, fucking greens, just the Targaryens.” She whimpered, “Yes, yes, I belong to you, the rightful family.” Aemond smacked her around some more, around the ass and thighs. He pumped with long strokes, powerful and measured.

Daeron was taking notes. Because she was heaving and clawing his shoulders, mewling when he’d plunge into her ruined cunt. Blood had already dried on the bed. Aegon crawled over and pointed her wet eyes to Jace.

“You want brother dearest to clean you up after? Lick your sore cunny up, coddle you? Or Daeron?”

She scrunched her face up, obviously distressed. Jace whined pathetically, “Sister, sister please, let me, let me?” He was humping the air now, utterly broken and debauched. Aemond smacked her cheek none-to-hard and smarted, “Your king asked you a question!”

She wailed out, “Both! Need both! Gods please! Mmmm!” Aemond’s one eye rolled up at her releasing yet again. She still had some in her, coating his long cock with the gorgeous essence. The long haired prince pumped her for the final time full of his cum, slapping her ass another time for good measure. She shivered and cried, Daeron already to the rescue.

Who knew such a powerful fighter had such a weak heart. Aegon laid back like a cat who got the cream, watching Jacaerys sob and shiver. He’d cum. The evidence was sticky and soaking his small clothes. The princess took one look and begged, “C-can he join? Lick me up like you said my liege?”

Aegon shrugged, “Aemond and I will watch for safety. Can’t believe Lord Strong came in his small clothes watching his sister get fucked by the enemies. I thought we were fucked up.”

“Like you’ll do shite you oaf,” Aemond muttered as he slit the ropes binding Jace. The brunette stumbled to his sister, squatting between her soaked cunt. It was still a bit stretched, puffy and oozing copious amounts of ‘dragonseed’. He began to cry in shame as he cleaned her up.

Daeron softly murmured, “I’ll take good care of her, you’ve been good. So good.” Jace blushed and kept licking, eating up his sister’s sighs of pleasure, Daeron’s long fingers in his dark hair. What a fucking mess this was.

Aegon and Aemond merely laughed like devilish imps. Sadists. “Oh she’ll take the seed alright, she better or we do this again,” he tapped his chin, “We can’t taint her bastardized blood further, so just licking cunny for you dear nephew.”

[e1e4n0r5]

Twisted Love: Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You always expected to marry your twin brother, Daeron. However, when this does not come to be, you find comfort with your siblings. As only Targaryens could. 

A/N: Okay, this chapter is a little angsty! Aemond is having some big feelings and he doesn’t know how to express those feelings with words because of his emotionally stunted upbringing. But you can bet his wife is gonna knock that out of him pretty quickly.

Warnings: canon-typical incest, figging (insertion of ginger root into the anus), coercion/dub-con if you squint, mention of past fire-play, jealous husband, relationship insecurity, ANGST

You bounced on the balls of your feet, wringing your hands in front of you as you watched the skies for any sign of Daeron and his dragon. It was time; your twin was finally returning home. After ten long years apart, you would finally be together. The two of you; all five siblings.

Aemond watched you out of the corner of his eye as he stood up straight next to you; his place as your husband and as Daeron’s brother, loathe as he was to admit the latter. He couldn’t deny that he wasn’t exactly happy with this development, of the youngest Targaryen-Hightower sibling returning to Kings Landing, most likely for good. He detested change, and he had grown accustomed to the routines and structure the four of you had established for yourselves. Not to mention the dynamic; Aegon might have been the eldest, but he was hardly the one in charge. Aemond enjoyed being the head of the group, the feelings of security, power, and dominance it gave him on a daily basis. He wasn’t looking forward to bringing in an unknown fifth element into the arrangement you all had together. Even if that fifth person was his own sibling.

He enjoyed being your husband, and having you as his wife. He felt he had won that day, the day you asked him to marry you. The day you promised yourself to him, and he to you. The day you consummated your love for each other, officially. He was dreading the fact that the man you had spent your entire childhood fantasising about marrying would now be present in your lives every single day. Daeron hadn’t set foot in Kings Landing in ten years, and you had never been allowed to travel to Oldtown. Aemond had had you all to himself (not including your other siblings and children) for a decade, and now he just knew Daeron was about to steal you away. He’d lost an eye to Lucerys, and he would soon lose his wife to his own brother.

He leant forward and whispered in your ear. “Settle down, my love,” he enjoyed watching you shiver at his soft Valyrian. “People might think you have a ginger root up your ass.”

You blushed bright red, your back passage tingling with the memories of that day.

Aemond had been awake before you, as he always rose with the sun, whereas you liked to sleep until mid-morning. It wasn’t your fault; your husband was insatiable. There was a freezing Winter snow falling across the city, forcing Aemond to cancel his training with Cole that morning. So instead, he’d had a devilish idea.

You had spied him sitting in his chair by the fire, his hands working something with a small knife.

“Good morning, husband,” you greeted him as you slid your feet into your fur-lined slippers and pulled on your thick dressing gown, crossing the room.

“Good morning, wife,” he replied back, not taking his eye off the thing in his hands. Was he whittling?

When you got closer, you saw that it wasn’t wood. It was softer than that. A fruit?

“What are you doing?”

He smirked up at you. “I think I might just have found an ingenious way to keep you warm today, my love.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Have you commissioned me some clothing I don’t know about?”

He laughed, a rare but beautiful sound. “No. No, wife, not clothes.” He held up the thing in his hands. A ginger root.

“Ginger?” you asked with a small smile. “Are you going to put it in my tea? You know I can’t stand the taste.”

“No, my love; your ass.”

He said it so casually that you didn’t pick up on it at first. It took you a few seconds, then you gawked at him.

“What?” you demanded.

He carved the root a little more, examining it from different angles. He seemed satisfied. “Aegon told me of a little trick he’d heard about. Assured me it’s well worth a try.”

Before you could respond, the passage between your room and your siblings’ opened up, your brother and sister stepping through.

“Morning to you both,” Aegon greeted cheerfully. Helaena had clearly already satisfied him. “What have you both got planned for the day? Helaena was thinking of taking the children down to the Dragonpit.”

“Aemond wants to put ginger up my ass!” you declared hysterically.

The two of them didn’t even blink.

“Oh, figging,” Helaena explained, walking over to Aemond and examining the root he had carved. “Yes, it’s a very interesting experience. Aegon and I have both done it a few times now.”

“Always a fun time,” he winked at you, helping himself to a few grapes from your breakfast platter.

“Very well carved, Aemond. Good thinking with the flared base.”

“And a good size too,” Aegon added. “Our little sister will definitely be titillated today.”

You stared at your siblings, abashed. Out of all the things the four of you had done together, for some reason this was the thing that baffled you the most. Why, in the name of the Seven, would anyone want to insert ginger into ones back passage?

The three of them chuckled at how you were staring back at them all. Aemond stood up.

“Y/N, dear wife, be a good girl and bend over the bed. Now.”

You instinctually covered your rear with your hands, shaking your head nervously. “It’ll hurt, won’t it?”

“Not hurt,” Aegon shrugged.

“But it’s definitely a memorable experience,” Helaena smiled dreamily. “Aemond, do you have another piece you could carve for me? I think I’d like to partake.”

Aemond nodded. “I do, dear sister.”

“As big and thick as you can, please,” she hummed happily, picking up her skirts as she walked over to your bed. She bent herself over, exposing her ass completely.

“I only have a smaller piece. Helaena, why don’t you take this one I’ve already done, and I’ll carve a smaller one for Y/N? She seems hesitant about this whole experience.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you, brother.”

Aemond looked to you. “Abrazȳrys (wife),” he commanded, “come here. Now. Watch how Helaena takes this, and you’ll see it’s not as bad as you are imagining.”

You headed over to the bed, Aegon holding you against his body as both of you watched Aemond dip the root in some oil and then slowly press it into Helaena’s ass. Her hole accepted the small intrusion with no effort, but she began mewling regardless. Aemond pressed his thumb to the flared base of the root, keeping it in place in her ass as her hips lifted up and down, grinding against the bed sheets.

“Does it hurt, sister?” Aemond asked. “Be honest; our little Y/N doesn’t want any lies.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. But it burns a little. It’s wonderful.”

“Burns?” you gasped.

“Nothing too bad,” Aegon reassured you, kissing the side of your head. “It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”

You frowned at Aemond as he began peeling and carving the other root. The one he intended to put inside you. “Husband, I’m not sure about this…?”

“You don’t need to be sure, wife,” he said simply. He looked at you, his eye softening a little. “Do you trust me? Do you trust that I would never harm you, or wish ill upon you?”

Your frown softened in return. “Yes. Of course, I do.”

“Then trust me now. This will be an interesting experience for you. It won’t harm you at all. I want you to try it. For me. And if you truly do hate it, you don’t have to do it again.”

“Except as punishments,” Aegon added cheekily, playfully squeezing you a little.

You smiled at him and Aemond, your will bent to theirs. “Alright.”

“Good, now bend over the bed, next to Helaena.” He paused. “Who seems to have climaxed all over our sheets.”

Helaena had indeed orgasmed, seemingly just from grinding herself against the edge of the bed, with the root in her ass. “It just feels so good,” she explained lightly, no shame at all in her voice.

Aemond smirked back at you, his argument won. “See? How awful can it be when Helaena climaxes in just one minute?”

You choose not to say that some of Helaena’s desires can be a little sadomasochistic, often deriving pleasure from giving and receiving various forms of pain. She had once orgasmed when Aemond and Aegon held lit candles to her inner thighs. Not close enough to burn her skin, yet close enough to hurt. It was peculiar, even for Targaryens.

Aegon nudged you forward, bending you over and pulling up your nightgown and robe. Helaena gripped your hand, still grinding and moaning on the bed. Aemond stepped up behind you, squeezing your buttocks and giving you a few spanks.

“Are you ready, wife?” he asked you, spreading your cheeks with the fingers of one hand.

You nodded. “Yes, husband.”

You snapped back to the present even as your mind ran through the sensations of having that ginger inserted into your back passage. How it had stretched you and begun to burn. As Helaena had described, it hadn’t been horrific, but it had kept you on your toes all day, until Aemond had removed the root after fucking you senseless in the evening.

Daeron’s dragon Tessarion’s cry filled the air. Not too far away, you could see her outline in the clouds above. He was here. Your brother was finally here.

Tessarion landed a hundred yards or so away, just enough for you to turn your head slightly to avoid the dust her wings kicked up. You almost didn’t recognise the man in the saddle. It was a man, not your twelve-year-old twin brother. You couldn’t make out his features, but you could see the Targaryen white hair. The man dismounted, rubbing Tessarion’s neck affectionately before sending her to fly to the Dragon Pit.

He started walking towards you all.

Your heart raced.

You moved to step forward, but Aemond and Aegon discreetly held you back. The Queen had to greet him, as was protocol. They could feel your need, but you only had to wait a little longer.

“Prince Daeron. My darling boy,” your mother greeted.

It was him. It was Daeron. He was older, a man grown. But he was your brother. His cheeks have slimmed, his nose a little longer, his jawline stronger. But he was here.

“Your Grace. Mother.”

They embraced, only for a second, before pulling apart. It was warm, by your mother’s standards.

She turned. “Your father, the King, is abed at the moment. The years have taken their toll, but I shall take you to see him later. You remember your siblings. Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Princess Y/N. You know Aegon and Helaena married, we’ll have tea with their children soon. And Aemond and Y/N-”

Daeron rushed forward and pulled you into his arms, uncaring at your mother’s indignation and scolding. You clung to each other, and the world stopped. He smelled the same, whereas he lamented that you had changed your perfume, or perhaps you now add oil to your hair?

“Sister,” Daeron breathed in your ear, holding you tightly, his eyes closing in bliss as your perfume filled his senses. Oh, how he had missed you. It had been agony for him, every day he thought of you, longed for you. He’d never wanted to leave in the first place, it was his mother’s and grandsire’s idea. His heart had been crushed when he had read mother’s letter four years earlier informing him of your marriage. He had been filled with anger; how dare Aemond steal his wife from him, just because he was away studying. It was an outrage; he had been tempted to fly back to Kings Landing on Tessarion and dispute the whole matter, to take you away and live as husband and wife together. But he had known that he would never have stood a chance against Aemond, nor Tessarion against Vhagar.

His eyes opened and he caught Aemond’s. The taller brother stared down the younger, his one-eye unblinking. Daeron swallowed thickly, keeping hold of you for support. “Brother Aemond,” he greeted in a somewhat shaky voice.

“Valonqar (little brother),” Aemond greeted with a smirk, enjoying his brother’s obvious discomfort at his presence. He didn’t like the way Daeron was holding you so tightly, it irked him, but he could disquiet his brother in other ways. “I hope you’ve kept up with your Valyrian; the four of us speak it often, and the children are learning too.”

Daeron flinched. “Forgive me, brother, there was no-one to help me maintain our ancestral language in Oldtown. I only speak Common Tongue now.”

Aemond nodded his head and smirked; another piece of leverage to use against this intruder.

You didn’t notice your brothers’ tension, pulling out of Daeron’s arms. You cupped his face in both your hands, staring closely at his face. He had grown so much. He wasn’t as tall as Aemond, nor as strong, but he was here. He was home. You longed to kiss his lips, but settled for both his cheeks, your lips lingering on his skin. “Finally,” you whispered, like a prayer, “Finally, you’re home.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m home. And I’m not leaving.” He looked up at Aemond at the end.

Aemond just smirked. ‘We’ll see about that, brother’, he thought.

The eldest sibling stepped forward to break the tension, even as he had to hold in his laughter. “Daeron, it’s been so long,” Aegon greeted, pulling Daeron in for a hug.

The two brothers embraced for a few seconds before separating. “Hello, Aegon. I missed you. Helaena,” he smiled at his other sister, kissing her cheek before embracing her.

“Y/N missed you greatly,” Helaena said in her soft voice. “She’s happy now you’re home.” Daeron tried not to interpret that as you being the only sibling who had missed him and glad to have him back.  

Aemond spoke up. “Why don’t we take him to meet our children?” he asked, smiling down at you with his hand on the small of your back.

You completely missed how Aemond stressed ‘our’. Daeron did not, frowning at the taller, older brother.

Your face lit up. “Oh yes! They’d love to meet you!” you grasped his hand, pulling him towards the castle. “Come on, Daeron, come meet them.”

Aemond added, his smile widening wickedly as he clasped his hand on Daeron’s shoulder, “Yes, your niece and nephew would love to meet their uncle. Our son Maenor and our daughter Aena, though little Aena is not yet one so she won't have much to say.”

Daeron had to keep his mind on you and your happiness, as not to punch Aemond on the jaw. Aemond was playing with him, it was clear and painful. They both knew Daeron had been hoping and expecting to sire children with you himself, so to hear the words ‘uncle’, ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’… It was all just a game to Aemond.

One he had won.

The five of you, your mother, your grandsire Otto, and the five children filled Aegon and Helaena’s sitting room with a tea service. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, sat politely with the grown-ups and had a piece of cake before playing on the floor. Maelor and Maenor ate some cake on the floor, closely monitored by Aemond and a nanny. And you sat little Aena on Daeron’s lap, chuckling softly when you had to show your twin how to support her properly as she liked to bounce on her feet now she was close to walking.

Alicent and Otto were called out to a Small Council meeting after an hour or so, leaving you all together.

“You know Maelor and Maenor were born within the same week,” you smiled, watching with a proud smile as your son showed your twin his newest bracelet made for him by Helaena. Daeron still held little Aena somewhat awkwardly on his lap, but your little girl didn’t seem fussed, only cooing happily as she gummed on a wooden spoon. It made your heart swell, and almost brought tears to your eyes. In another life, they could have been his children. But then they wouldn’t be Aemond’s, which would mean they would be different. And you wouldn’t change your life or children for anything. You’d give Daeron a child someday, you knew it.

“It’s why we named them so similar,” Helaena agreed. “I actually delayed naming Maelor when he was born until Y/N had Maenor and had named him. They were conceived on the same night, after all.”

You choked on your tea and Daeron almost dropped Aena. Aemond quickly scooped your daughter out of her uncle’s arms, having been hovering at the side. He was very protective of both your children, but especially Aena. She had him wrapped around her tiny fingers, even though Aemond would never admit that. He bounced her up and down and cooed at her to distract her from crying. She was smitten with her father so it was always an effective tactic.

“Helaena…” you whispered. Daeron didn’t know any of that yet!

She seemed to realise her error. “Oh. I’m sorry, Daeron. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only meant that Y/N and I had fertile days around the same time.”

That didn’t help.

“Do you think either of you will have more children?” he asked quietly, looking awkwardly down at the floor. He prayed you’d say no.

Alas, Helaena continued. “I’m actually trying to conceive at the moment, so it’s fortunate you-”

You interrupted. “I’m sure I’ll have more children in the future. Aena isn’t quite one yet, so in a few months, mayhaps. Does that sound alright, Aemond?”

Your husband looked at you from kissing your daughter’s chubby cheeks. “I’m always happy to have children with you, my love. We practice often enough,” he winked at you, basking in how much Daeron physically cringed.

You blushed and dipped your head. What was happening with everyone today?

That night was the first complete family dinner in over ten years, the King included. It was a lovely meal, it had filled your heart to finally be seated next to Daeron after so long apart, but there had been an undeniable tension in the room, coming off both Aemond and Daeron. Aemond had kept his hand firmly on your thigh the whole evening, not even moving it when food was served. He used his left hand to make your plate up, then his own, eating slowly with just his one hand. He barely said a word beside you as you caught up with your beloved twin.

After everyone was finished and conversation had lasted well into the evening, you all dispersed back to your rooms. Aegon and Helaena came in to yours and Aemond’s rooms via their usual passage, and you poured the three of them some wine. You had drunk enough for the day, feeling tired and a little emotional after the long day. Aegon and Helaena sat on a sofa by the main fireplace, reclining back comfortably. Aemond stood by the fire, contemplative as he stared into the flames and took the occasional sip of his drink. You felt restless from the energy he was exuding, sitting delicately on the arm of an armchair.

“It’s nice to have Daeron home,” you offered to the room.

Helaena nodded. “It will be, when we all know each other again.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aegon pitched in. “You have to admit, sister; Daeron’s been gone so long, he’s basically a stranger to us now.”

“No, he’s not!” you protested. “Don't say that, he’s our brother! He’s always been our brother. It wasn’t his fault he was sent away.”

He jokingly held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying it is. But we haven’t seen each other in a decade, and there’s only so much letter-writing can do. If I hadn’t known who he was when he arrived, I wouldn’t have recognised him.”

“Aegon is right,” Helaena concurred. “He’s a stranger now, but he won’t be soon. The dragon lost will be found again.”

Before you could get upset about your brother's and sister’s attitude towards your twin, Aegon spoke up again.

“Well, how funny is it that you want your little brother’s babies?” Aegon laughed good-naturedly to his wife. “I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

Helaena just shrugged. “Well, you have three children already. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge Daeron a child with his sister?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” he smirked, looking at Aemond.

The three of you looked at Aemond, observing him as he just stood by the fire, wine cup in hand. “Fuck off, Aegon,” he grumbled.

Helaena paid no attention to his mood. “I think it would be nice if Y/N and I were both pregnant at the same time again, and especially if both babes were Daeron’s.” You looked at her beseechingly, silently begging her to stop talking. You could feel Aemond’s ire rising. He has never and would never hurt any of you, but his temper was infamous within the Keep. “Aegon has three children and, Aemond, you have two. Daeron doesn’t have any-”

“Because he’s been pissing away his years in Oldtown,” he snapped. He moved from the fire and practically threw himself into the armchair where you sat on the arm. He fisted the loose material at the back of your robe. He needed to be close to you and to squeeze something, but would never hurt you for it. “It’s not my fault he never came back to be with us. He has a dragon more than capable of flying from Oldtown to Kings Landing; he could have told Grandsire to get fucked and returned at any time. He chose not to; he chose to stay in Oldtown with those prissy Maesters and dusty books. It certainly doesn’t mean my wife owes him a child. You give him one if you want, sister, if you think it would be nice.”

“Let’s all change the subject,” you said softly, rubbing Aemond’s knee.

Aegon, rather drunk, had other ideas. “So how will we get him to join us? He’s been cooped up for years, after all. Doubt he’s ever seen a tit, let alone a cunt.”

You groaned, standing up. You took Aemond’s cup from his hand and drained it in one gulp. He didn’t even look bothered. You refilled it from the jug and handed it back to your husband. He lifted it slightly in thanks, drinking deeply. You had known Daeron’s return would disturb him, but you hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

“I think that can wait,” you said diplomatically. You couldn’t and wouldn’t hide your desire to have your twin join the four of you, but it wasn’t an urgent matter, and your husband was perturbed enough as it was. “Let’s all just get to know him again.”

Helaena frowned at you quizzically. “Have you not been desiring this for a long time, sister? You planned to be his wife growing up, not Aemond’s.”

That was Aemond’s final straw. He stood up abruptly, stormed over to his side of the bed and began angrily disrobing for bed.

Aegon and Helaena misinterpreted the action as an invitation, standing up and heading towards the bed.

You stood in front of them with a shake of your head. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Aegon shrugged. “Alright. Come on, dear wife. Away to bed for us.”

“Do you want to fuck my ass?” Helaena offered neutrally.

You heard Aegon reply as they headed back down the passageway to their own rooms. “You know I’ll never say no to that offer.”

You turned back to the bed, seeing Aemond already under the sheets, facing away from the room. You walked over to the bed, climbing on it from your side.

“Aemond?” you asked, kneeling behind him. He gave no response. You looked at his nightstand. His eyepatch lay on the dresser, but the dish where he stored his sapphire was empty. He hadn’t taken it out. “Aemond, sweetheart, you need to take out your eye,” you leant down and kissed his bicep. “You know it will hurt in the morning if you leave it in.”

Still silent, he removed his sapphire, placing it in the bowl.

Glad he had at least listened to you, you lay down behind him. You tucked yourself in as close as you could to him, wrapping your arm tightly around his waist from behind. “Aemond, I love you. You know that, don't you?”

Seconds ticked by and your heart pounded in your ears.

After what felt like an eternity, he took your hand and pulled it up, kissing the back. “I love you too.”

You considered it a success. “I'm so happy to be your wife.”

Aemond had to hold back tears. “I'm happy to be your husband.” Until you leave me.

@watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @aemondsdelight @thelittleswanao3 @misspascalpunk @heavenly1927 @probablybraindamage @theoneepileptic

[writingsofwesteros]

congrats on 3k!

could you write aegon showing daeron how to please daeron’s wife, and include dirty talk? (daeron is obvi aged up for this)

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“Look at her, brother..” Aegon whispered down to his younger brother. The King knelt beside the bed that you were spread out. Your soft, beautiful body on full display. Your husband’s face burrowed in between your legs as your eyes were rolling back. “You could not have done this without me.” He continued. 

Daeron moaned against your weeping pussy. He so desperately wanted to roll his eyes but you tasted so delicious. A hand that was not your own moved to the back of his head; pushing him against you. His hands moved to the sheets and tightened his hold on them. All the while you couldn’t stop rocking.

The fear you had for Aegon was still present as you whined in pleasure; your mind becoming hazy. Your stomach tightening in pleasure as you whimpered down to your husband. Those bright eyes of his locked onto you. Your face was flushed and prettily screwing up in pleasure as your lips parted.

“Stuff her with your fingers.” Aegon ordered as he leaned closer. His hot breath moving against your bare thigh. He tugged on his brother’s locks to gain his attention as you began to whine. The pleasure is slowing now. “Please…Daeron.” You whimpered out; body arching from the sheets as Aegon chuckled.

“See - you are making her wait.” Aegon hummed and before you knew it two thick fingers pushed inside your weeping pussy. You were far too gone to realise they were not your husband’s fingers. “Aegon…” Daeron nearly snarled as you whimpered out; your loud whines of pleasure had the Prince chuckling. 

“Oh, she’s tight….I bet you don’t even stretch her.” Aegon purred; fingers curling to hit your spongy spot. “Fuck off Aegon.” Daeron’s voice grew in volume whilst Aegon’s fingers only quickened. “Shall I show you how to stuff your cock inside her?” Aegon hummed; looking innocently up at his brother.

Daeron was too shocked as you whimpered; pussy clamping around Aegon’s fingers as your body responded. Aegon only smirked as his hand moved into his pants at his brother’s lack of answer. He pushed Aegon who only chuckled; his fingers falling from you that had you whining some more.

“Please…Daeron..just do something.” You whimpered out shyly to him. Aegon only chuckled as he watched in delight. “Please..” Your begging continued as your head fell back once more. A soft gasp escaped you when you felt his fat cock brushing against your weeping pussy. Your eyes widened as he slowly pushed in.

Aegon hummed as he watched you shake against the sheets. Your lips parting sweetly once more. You sweetly grabbed at Daeron’s shoulder as his own moans began to escape him now. “Doing well, better than I thought.” Aegon hummed as his brother began to thrust. Your head rolling back in pleasure.

“Hmm, does she feel good?” Aegon couldn’t help himself as he watched Daeron move to take your breasts into his mouth; completely ignoring Aegon. That was fine for him; the view was just as good. His hand finally slipped inside his own pants as he began to fist his throbbing cock. The sound of your wetness echoing had him stroking himself faster.

[biblioklept-writes]

Secrets and Lies - I (Mafia!Targaryens)

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! I hope you have wonderful holidays <3

Summary: Everyone knows that the Targaryens practically run the criminal underworld of Westeros from it's capital, King's Landing's heart - the Bel Air of Westeros: the Red Keep. You are now a part of this Mafioso life, whether you like it or not - but you think you do because the only way to get revenge is to stay in.

Word Count: 10.2K (I really outdid myself)

A/N: This is raw work - there might be errors left but I still have one final left😭 The characters are a OOC to fit my narrative. Also, platonic Aegon x Reader, Helaena x Reader, Daeron x Reader. My love for team green does show up heavily, so if that's not your thing I'd prefer if you don't comment on it. Please take the warnings a little seriously.

This will have an eventual part two. Until then, you can find a list of my House of the Dragon works here.

Warnings: There is talk of human trafficking, minor abuse, allusions to rape and sexual assault, trauma and trigger response. This part has mild violence, nothing too graphic. Please scroll away if any of this might trigger you.

The terror of the Targaryen family was known all over Westeros and Essos. They were considered the royalty of the underground business in the world, having connections and enemies in each city. They were claimed to be experts in the Mafia business, coming to rise more recently than the olden dominating families like the Hightowers, Tyrells and the Lannisters. But their reign of terror had been expansive and they now sat at the top - the wealthiest and the deadliest of them all even after generations had changed.

It wasn’t uncommon in the business to marry young people, but when Viserys Targaryen had married his daughter’s best friend after the death of his first wife during childbirth, more than a couple of eyebrows had been raised. Alicent Hightower still kept her name, now at the highest position that you could get. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heiress, was displeased, so she went ahead to taint the family name by giving birth to three boys looking nothing like her husband - all three of them fathered by one of the low-power henchmen of her father’s, Harwin Strong.

She was still named Viserys’ heiress after Alicent had given him three sons and a daughter, even when the rest of the families did not approve of her less-than traditional ways. Viserys had a cousin, Daemon Targaryen, who was infamous for his cruelty in the seedy underbelly of the wealthy King’s Landing, the capital of Westeros practically run by the Mafia, and Rhaenyra married him in a secret ceremony after her husband and Daemon’s wife mysteriously died. Some even go as far as to say that not a leaf fell without their knowledge. And this centre is the headquarter of the Targaryen family, who had owned the lavish neighbourhood they had named the Red Keep. It was the Bel Air of King’s Landing, where only the rich could live.

Alicent Hightower had four children with Viserys - Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron Targaryen - all silver haired and purple eyed just like their father. Even his children from his young and beautiful wife didn’t stop him from favouring Rhaenyra, threatening to kill anyone who called her any sort of names. Some say she had had Daemon kill a man, one of their powerful relatives - Vaemond Velaryon - for calling her a whore. Though these were being dismissed as rumours, you had been in the room when Daemon had shot Vaemond in the back of his head. 

You had been there when Viserys’ second son, Aemond Targaryen, lost his eye. Rhaenyra’s sons, Jace and Luke, had slashed his face in anger once he called them bastards. Aegon, Jace and Luke had been targeting Aemond relentlessly for being given the runt of the litter of puppies - a greyhound rather than a bloodhound as everyone traditionally got. The greyhound which he named Vhagar, was lithe but boney and weak-looking.

The trio had thought it was great to present Aemond with a pig to feed his weakling runt and himself, now being called a runt of the family. When Aemond finally retaliated, they took his eye, raised that way by their step-father.

Viserys, the senile old man, had demanded Aemond’s source of the bastardry claims instead of caring of his injury or reprimanding Luke or Rhaenyra. You had lurked in the shadows then, as you did now.

Shadows were your closest companion, after your german shepherd, Coco and your dearest laptops. Otto Hightower had taken you from one of the sex racquets run by the Boltons, impressed by your insistence to leave the place with him. Alicent then took you under her wing, raising you and Helaena like sisters since then. It had been so long ago, yet it had been only six years. University was a luxury to you, and you were grateful to Alicent for providing for you as she did for her children, even though you didn’t speak much with anyone except for little Daeron. He was your little brother and you would kill anyone who meant harm to him.

In university you took a more practical course of engineering in cyber security and taught yourself to hack into the best systems undetected. Alicent and Otto recognised your skill and kept that hidden from the rest of the Targaryen clan. In repayment for their efforts towards raising you, you spliced camera footage for them, breached into the CCTVs of their potential opposers. You had found some compromising proof for the rumours floating around about Daemon Targaryen, but you didn’t want such a powerful enemy right at the beginning of your mafia career.

In the evening, you trained with the bouncers and the guards, honing your fighting skills and learning tricks of the shadows. But you knew shadows, they had always been your companion especially when times had gotten rough.

You attended King’s Landing University with the rest of Alicent’s children - but only Aemond was in your year - and he majored in electrical engineering with a side of history, the ever geek - and you had a digital electronics class in common. Occasionally, you two spoke wandering about the campus because there were things you couldn’t talk about with the others. You had been there, hidden in the shadows as the medics opened the stitches of his eye, regretfully telling him that they couldn’t save it, for the cut had been too deep. You remembered that, there had been too much blood. You didn’t think a man could - should - bleed that much.

You weren’t friends, far from it. Maybe it could be termed as partnership - you trained together, shared the common interest in wicked weapons, and you taught him to quiet his steps, to become the shadows companion while he taught you tricks of light, commanding your presence, entrancing a room with the threat of explosion. You fought mercilessly too - more often than not ending up with cuts on your arms. Better to be injured in the presence of family than in an unknown place, Alicent had said on one such night. The mere thought that she considered a powerless orphan like you her family warmed your cold heart. A favour you returned by promising your skills to her sons, something no one else possessed in the mafia as of yet per your knowledge. And you had your revenge to take care of - Otto had promised you as much - leaving the Boltons for you to kill.

Aegon was two years senior than you, excelling in biochemistry with his specialisation in toxicology. He’d changed significantly in the six years when you first saw him - he’d finally opened his eyes to the reality that there was no one on his back save for his mother and siblings, not even his own father and especially not his nephews, his half-sister’s children. You supposed toxicology was a fit major for him with his wild drinking habits. As loud as he was inebriated, dull as a rope, when sober he could bring powerful men to their knees with mere words. Drunk or not, Aegon knew his poisons, and knew them well.

Helaena was your one year senior in Zoology, fitting with her collection of deadly pets besides the bloodhound, Dreamfyre - tarantulas, snakes, lizards with all sorts of wicked teeth and slow venoms - she knew the insects better than she knew people, and Helaena had the best instinct of them all.

Not-so-little Daeron was the speaker among the siblings. A master of words, he would twist your words and feed them back to you until you forgot what you said and go on with his suggestions. He was subtle in his art, and with the cute face with the big, innocent eyes he was the deadliest blade among them all. He wasn’t quick to anger and came out of every situation unscathed - even if he had set whole rooms on fire with the commotion he had set up with his words.

Luke was equal in age, and Daeron had the dark-haired bastard convinced that they were the best of friends, as if he didn’t hold a long grudge against him for taking his elder brother’s eye. He says he learnt the art of words from you and Aemond, which you find curious considering you are never spoken to by the socialites other than his siblings and Alicent, and Aemond is known for his silence. You wonder if it is one of his games, making you believe in a skill that you didn’t possess.

Even though you weren’t the siblings' friend, you wouldn’t hesitate to lose blood or your life for them, and you knew that they would kill for you. Whether they would lose blood over you was questionable, but they wouldn’t hesitate to spill someone else’s for your safety. They made you feel safe.

Currently you sit in the sun, looking at the logic gate circuit on your ipad screen as you scramble to find the correct answer. You know the answer is simple and you are just missing a bit, yet the answer logic evades you. Frustrated, you drop the pen beside you as you lean against the fence, closing your eyes for a moment.

The years of being shadow’s companion have forced you to rely on your senses other than vision, and your ears pick up the quiet sound of Aemond’s light footsteps and the leather and lime musk of his as he sits beside you. Your skin tingles as the invasion in your space as he twirls your pen between his fingers, letting out a sigh. “Anything that I may assist you with?” he asks.

“What do you want in return?” you ask, squinting to look at him.

“Nothing at the moment,” he rubs his hands on his black denim covered thighs. “Later though, I would like to invite you over for a chess match,” 

You nod, handing over your ipad to him. You verbalise the question as he reads it, and abruptly remembering the missing bit, you snatch the ipad and the pen back and note it down. He smiles faintly at you, saying nothing. You wonder then, if Daeron learnt the power of silence from his brother.

“I suppose I can join you,” you say, happy that your problem is solved. “After we are finished with the evening training.”

Aemond nods in acknowledgement, then leaves turning back to salute at you as he leaves. His hair has grown long in the past year, falling well past his shoulders in silken silver threads, owing to the large hair care rack he had in his bedroom. You had only been there a couple of times after the eye incident, the one that had left him blind in one eye with a permanent long scar from the top of his brow to the bottom of his cheekbone. You had been to his floor in the main building multiple times for rounds of chess or just being quiet company to the siblings, adding in your two cents whenever you were questioned.

With the rising tensions in the family, Viserys had allowed Rhaenyra to live in the set of apartments on the far end of the Red Keep, while he kept the headquarter building for himself and in addition his young wife and her children, and you with Otto Hightower. He had given you a more than modest accommodation - a set of three rooms, a large bedroom with an attached bath and a mirrored glass set to appear opaque to the outside viewers, a general living area and study desk with a large television with every subscription imaginable, and a more inconspicuous room which held the actual prize - the four prized computers and two laptops that you had tested your hacking skills on.

His residence floor was less frequented by outsiders, by himself, and your accommodation was hidden by the bookshelves. Viserys knew you lived there in such a hidden manner and had assumed Otto to have the same depraved tastes as himself… which was disgusting, but helped you cover up nicely, considering Alicent signed the cheques for your college fees. No one on campus seems to know who you are or who is funding you, but don't dare ask - seeing Aemond, Aegon and Helaena around you more than once was enough.

After a round of rigorous training in stealth and aiming of blowpipes. You loved this particular style of weaponry - it was quiet, inconspicuous, and the needle got destroyed the moment it pierced skin, leaving no evidence - it forced you to be accurate. If your shot wasn’t true, you risked blowing up everything. The more you practised, the more effortless your aim became, and honestly, you were impressed with yourself. And now you want your efforts to pay off by helping Alicent and Otto Hightower.

It had been a while, Viserys health had been declining slowly - since before he had married Alicent, so you figured he’d been sick for far too long to have been poisoned by Aegon. Half of him had rotten - even with the treatment made available to him, his leprosy had taken his eye. You figured it was the universe’s way to make him pay; yet even that didn’t take his mind off Rhaenyra. It was during one of these days that Daemon had shot Vaemond, leaving the man with a perfect bullet-shaped hole in his head as his blood painted marble floor red.

Daemon was left unpunished for this crime, for he was only defending his young wife’s honour. Vaemond refused to give his nephew, Leanor’s seat to her bastard sons - that she had while being married to Leanor before he mysteriously disappeared - and proceeded to call her a whore, earning a 32 calibre revolver bullet through the back of his head. No one dared to call him out on it. Not even Viserys.

You were half tempted to kill Daemon with one of your poisoned pins, but you were yet to master the skill to perfection and he was a healthy man; him randomly dropping dead would raise more than eyebrows.

Perched atop the wooden log near the ceiling of the training room, you were cleaning your blowpipe when the door slid open and Aemond entered, having covered his sapphire eye with the eyepatch. You never knew why he chose that particular stone, but it looked good on him. You whistled as his pretty silver head turned away from you, and grinned when he spotted you.

“Hello, love,” you teased. “Looking for some company?”

“Get down, love,” He teased back. “You’re no company up there like a monkey,”

You threw your leg over the log and swiftly jumped down, softly landing on your toes. The twenty-something feet jump didn’t scare you, you had scaled far worse heights, and this was a piece of cake. He was dressed in his usual black turtleneck and trousers, this one with a little blue pin on it. His blazer hung on one shoulder, and he looked like he had had a long evening.

“What’s gotten you all knotted?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Him,” Aemond replies, running his hands through his hair, very uncharacteristic of him, and you are thoroughly worried.

“Is he dead?” You ask.

“Not yet,” He sighs, now having messed up his silken hair. “The doctor only gave him a dose for the pain - Aegon says we should just finish the job. Mum keeps stopping him, saying she still needs him.”

“He has a powerful name,” You placatingly say. “She is a smart woman, you should heed her advice. Perhaps there is something she is not telling even you.”

“They wouldn’t let her take his place,” He says, staring into your eyes. “Even though she is the one doing the actual work since he fell sick.”

“There’s no use pondering over something that we have no control over,” you say, hesitating a little before holding his arm. You caress it in a show of support, of comfort, unsure if you were crossing a boundary. He only sighs deeply, so you gently squeeze his arm. “Come on, it’s not worth wasting your mind over. Let’s go for a walk. I am sure Vhagar and Coco could use some time out.”

“Mmh,” he hums, walking out the training room, with you hot on his heels.

Vhagar is very glad to see you and Coco, smelling and licking your face when you bend over to greet her. “I’m happy to see you too buddy,” you say, voice higher than normal. “Good girl,” you say, scratching her head.

Coco, your german shepherd practically tackles Aemond in his eagerness to play, leaving brown and black hair all over his pristine clothes. “Beautiful Coco,” he coos, scratching Coco’s side and face as the dog proceeds to slather him in affection. “Who’s a good boy? That’s right Coco. Good boy,”

“Let’s go for a walk,” you tell the dogs, and neither of them can stop wagging their tails as they sniff each other up. 

You are out in the giant lawn, with the dogs running around freely as you and Aemond walk barefoot on the grass to release the tension. “Something bothering you still?” you ask, looking straight ahead. 

“He is going to die soon with her named as his heiress.” Aemond says. “And she will make our lives hell.”

“Well, she can’t poison you that’s for sure,” you say. “If she tries to put a bullet through any of you I will kill her.” 

“You can kill her before she has time to blink.” Aemond adds. “But it’s not her that’s the problem. It’s my uncle.”

“I will not hesitate,” you promise, more to yourself than to him. You hate Daemon Targaryen with everything inside you. You are going to be his torturous death.

“I know,” He says.

You walk in silence for a long time, watching your dogs play in the grass, chasing each other, chasing you. You played with the dogs until it was time for dinner, you parted ways at Otto’s floor and you went to clean up after being covered in mud. You changed into black sweatsuit and went up to Alicent’s room. Lately, you had been joining them for dinner now that Viserys was sick. 

The sound of your name makes you look up, Alicent’s big brown eyes looking at you expectantly. “Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

“I am afraid that diplomatic dinners aren’t an area of my expertise,” You say. 

“The Boltons would be invited too,” Otto adds. Everyone at the table stilled, eyeing you and Otto. 

“It’s okay,” you say. 

The early hours of the night blended into midnight, as you sat cross legged in front of Aemond, studying the chessboard closely. Helaena braided her hair to your left, while Aegon and Daeron acted as referees, commenting about the game and distracting you. You made a mental note of applying this tactic in your training - you couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything.

With both of your queens dead, and only one rook, bishop and pawn left on your side and his two pawns, one knight and one bishop, the game came to a stalemate after about an hour and a half of playing.

“But both your kings are still there!” Daeron protests. “It was so interesting!”

“And one move and the kings are dead.” Aemond says. “This game is never about the king. There’s no use of a king who is dead.”

“Then why does the king have this much power?” Daeron asks.

“The King has no power.” You tell him. “His only aim is to stay alive. The most powerful piece in the game is the Queen.”

“Why is the Queen more powerful?” the Little Targaryen asks.

“Because the game setters were smart and knew who held actual power,” Aegon suddenly comments, rolling over to his back. “Unlike the people now,”

“When did you grow a brain?” Helaena asks, laughing.

“Mom wouldn’t let me poison him,” he says. 

“Why can’t we get a will printed and get it signed by him?” Daeron suggests. “I’m not sure he has a week on him.”

“I’ll talk to mom about it,” Aemond says, his hair dishevelled. He calls your name, the sound smooth on his tongue. “Can you spy on our lovely half-sister for us?”

You nod, and Vhagar gets up from her place at the side of the bed and lays her head on Aemond’s lap, asking for pets. He absently scratched her head, saying, “I heard whispers of Daemon getting a new bloodhound,” he exhaled deeply, closing his eye. “Savage beast, called Vermithor. Already been in service for eight years.”

“Okay,” you say. Feeling eyes dancing between the two of you, you reach for the chess pieces and start to pack them up. 

There is a knock at the door, and Daeron rushes to open the door, to reveal Criston Cole, Alicent Hightower’s personal bodyguard. Some even called him the shield to the Mafia Queen.

He was basically these kids’ father, teaching them everything they knew about the fights in the mob and how bad it truly gets. He had taught you too - to fight - first to defend, then to attack. He is dressed smartly, in a black shirt and grey trousers, and his curly hair is trimmed to stay off his eyes.

“Boss wants to see you,” Cole tells them. He always calls Alicent Boss, even though the title was reserved for Viserys. “Y/N, you come with me.”

While your friends go to see their mother, you leave the Red Keep with Criston in his Mercedes SUV, one of the finest cars you have seen. You had come to the Red Keep in a similar car, only it was more expensive being the Consigliere Hightower’s. He tells you that the “Boss” Viserys wants to have a celebratory dinner with his whole family - Rhaenyra and her whole family included - this saturday, two nights later.

“Boss wants you to be there,” Cole says. “She wants you to be a part of the family too, and needs you to dress formally for the occasion.”

You nod, acknowledging his words. Your cold heart flutters at the mere thought of Alicent thinking of you as family, you deeply loved and respected her.

.

You know Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra’s eldest bastard. You know that he is a freshman in King’s Landing University, majoring in communications. You have seen him driving his Porsche around campus and getting incredibly flustered around intimidating women, and you planned to meet him on campus today.

“I’ll be sure to make this dinner so entertaining,” You had told Aemond as the both of you drove to the campus in his Rolls Royce. Your car, a Range Rover courtesy of Otto Hightower, had gone into service, and seeing you at the morning class at the same time, you had decided to go with him. You had dressed a little differently than usual today, in black leather skirt and a matching red blouse. Aemond had laughed when he first saw you in a white skirt, saying you looked like a Christmas decoration. It was then you had changed into the black skirt, glaring at him the entire time.

He chuckled again, saying, “If you dress like you had in the morning, I am sure I’d be entertained.” but then turning serious, he asks, “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” You say, playfully batting your eyelashes.

“Do you think they’ll agree?” He asks.

“Oh, I think they already have.” You say. “Alicent sent me to get fitted for a dress. It’s a big deal, Aemond. She’s presenting me as a part of the family.”

“You are a part of the family,” He insists. “I know we barely spoke during the awkward puberty phase - ”

“We started talking in college,” you said, shaking your head.

“But mother deeply cares for you,” he ignores your remark. “And so do we. When you first came Daeron suggested either Aegon or I should get married to you so you’d never leave.”

“What?” you laugh again, imagining the scene. 

“It took a lot of convincing on Mum and Cole’s part to tell him that you were here to stay,” He confesses. “See, the point is, you are our friend and presenting you as family at the dinner is only natural.” He smirks a little as he glances at you once before refocusing on the road.

You part ways at the parking, with him going to the analog electronics lab while you head to the lecture hall. At break time, you went near the basketball court to sit and pretend to do your assignment. Discreetly keeping track of Jacaerys’ location on your phone, you stand up once he is too close and pretend to bump into him.

“I am so sorry!” you apologise in a shrill voice, as you bend over to gather your book and notebook. “I didn’t see.”

“I'm sorry too,” Jacaerys says, then stills as he takes in appearance. “Wow,” he mutters. “Sorry,” he says again, coy this time.

You smile at him after you put your stuff in your bag, then look at him again.

“I have never seen you around,” he decides. 

“It’s a big campus,” you say. “Maybe you saw me and didn’t remember.”

“You aren’t forgettable,” He says, now holding out his hand. “I am Jacaerys Velaryon. You can call me Jace. Communications,”

“Y/N,” you tell him, shaking his hand. “Information Technology and Cyber Security,”

“That’s a mouthful,” he says, letting go of your hand.

“You don’t have to say it,” You say, getting around to leave.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asks.

“Maybe?” You say, turning back to him with a mysterious smile.

On your way back, Aemond asks, “How was your day, my little Christmas decoration?” and bursts out laughing. You smack him on his firm bicep, contempt filled in your glare. 

“Was good until now,” you said, huffing.

That had been Thursday afternoon. Now it was Friday evening and you sat in the cafe, drinking your coffee as you finished the algorithms assignment. You knew Jacaerys is here after class, and you can see him quickly approaching on your screen, but you pretend that the notes you had made were interesting. 

“Fancy seeing you here, miss Y/N,” Jacaerys says, sitting in the empty chair in front of you. “You are quite the sight,” 

“I am here a lot of times,” You say. “You are a rare sight.”

You answer his questions, then pretending to run late for a class, you hurriedly leave, sighing. Communications majors spoke too much for your taste. (Sorry guys)

.

The first thing Aemond notices at the dinner table is that you’re missing. His mother asks him about your whereabouts, but he has no answer, because he hasn’t seen you since the morning. Everyone is there - his annoying nephews, his step sister, Daemon and his girls from his first wife. He hates it, hates this so much. Otto, Alicent and Rhaenyra sit in the middle of the table, with a chair between them for Viserys. Beside the empty chair, sits Rhaenyra and for once they are amicably speaking and he can see flashes of the infamous friendship.

He sits at one end of the table, the chair beside him empty. Daeron sits beside Otto, and in front of them sit Aegon and Helaena. Jace and his stepsisters sit in front of Viserys, Rhaenyra and Daemon. Luke and Joffrey sit on the opposite end of the table, facing Aemond. He despises it, wants to get up and leave at this instance, but he knows he cannot. He watches as the nurses help his father into his chair between Alicent and Rhaenyra, the old man’s blind side to him.

“My family,” he says with effort. “I am so happy to see you all here,” he looks over the table once, lingering on the empty chair beside Aemond. He looks at Otto and Alicent, inquiringly, “Where is she?”

“Cole has gone to fetch her,” Alicent adds. She seems displeased at Viserys’ interest in you, and Aemond doesn’t blame her. The siblings share a look as the food begins to be served. Servants line the table, turning up plates and cutting out pieces from the lamb served for dinner.

From his seat, the door to the dining hall is visible, and he abruptly stands up on seeing you with Cole. He thinks you look magnificent in the off-shoulder dark green dress you wear and the diamond earrings match you - you are a gem among stones.

Everyone turns in the direction of his movement, as he gently takes your hand and escorts you to the two empty chairs at the end of the table, pulling out the chair for you and helping you sit. He doesn’t know why he is doing this, but it feels natural. His siblings, mother and grandfather watch him with mild interest, while his step-sister’s family is unable to hide their surprise. 

Jace’s shock and following disapproval is thinly veiled when you look at him. Aemond fights off a smirk and meets your eyes, lifting your hand again to plant a kiss on it. Alicent narrows her eyes at the action, but stays quiet. Jace almost drops his fork, earning curious glances from everyone.

Heartstopping, Aemond thinks the moment his lips touch your soft hand. 

Viserys says your name, smiling at you with his rotten teeth. Aemond, Aegon and Helaena cannot help but glare daggers at him when he says, “It’s so good to have you amongst us, even if I am sure my Consigliere keeps you happy.”

The implication isn’t missed by those in attendance, earning more raised brows. Poor, pathetic Jace seems crushed, and Aemond finally understands the entertainment that you had promised him and he presses his curved lips together in a half smirk. He admires your profile as you shyly smile at Viserys, not saying anything. He motions the servants, and they quickly serve you.

Thank you, you mouth to him with a tiny smile before you start. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon eye you with interest, trying to gauge your role in the family. You give them nothing, avoiding to utter any sound. The silence is tense and Aemond looks at Daeron and Otto, then at Helaena and Aegon, all of them quietly looking at their plates. On this side of Viserys, only Alicent is the one making any conversations, asking Rhaenyra about her health, the child she was about to have, about Jace, Luke and Joffrey, about Rhaena and Baela.

Aemond understood his mother’s diplomacy now, listening to how his step-sister gloated at the opportunity, going on and on about how brilliant her sons were, how Baela and Rhaena were the top of their class. Aemond listened carefully, trying to remember all the details she left. When the conversation turned boring - about Rhaenyra’s pregnancy, he tuned them out, instead asking the question that was itching the back of his brain.

Aemond turned to you, and you leaned toward him as he leaned closer to your ear, whispering so quietly that his curved lips barely moved, “Why were you so late?” he could smell your perfume, so you. It was a mild smell, but tingled his brain to the point that he couldn’t forget it.

You d0n’t say anything, but motioned at your beautiful dress. He frowns but he notices that your hand was hidden in a pocket, and your elegant hand slowly came out of it, revealing a wicked blade - it is small, hidden but dangerous. The smile on your face is just as wicked, if not worse so. It is tearing through his heart and making him bleed to himself, but he cannot do anything but let it cut through him.

No one makes a toast, except for Viserys’ ill-executed attempt at the beginning, which you had missed. The smug Luke - the teenage smugness not yet leaving him - stopped smirking at him once you were seated. You were clearly not a Targaryen and you weren’t a Hightower either, yet you were here sitting on the only-family dinner table beside him as Viserys made that lewd remark about you and his Grandfather. He ignores it, as he normally does, used to it by now.

When you had first come home with his grandfather, he had been so young - having just turned fourteen. You looked to be about the same age as him then and you barely spoke, the only times he had heard you speak was either with Otto or Alicent. He was so confused seeing you, this sad, angry looking mysterious girl who never talked to him, but was now staying in his house and occasionally joined his family for dinners. Then gradually, you started talking to Helaena and the little Daeron, who seemed to be the only one able to bring a smile to your melancholic eyes. 

The first time you ever addressed him, you had asked, “Have you taken your pain killers?” Your voice had been gruff from disuse. He had nodded at your question, unable to keep his fine eye open for too long without tearing up. Then you had caressed his forehead, carefully avoiding the stitches that covered most of his face, your hands gentler than he had imagined. “It will take time to heal,” you said. 

“I’ll be permanently scarred.” He had said through the pain.

“But the pain will go away with time.” your hand was still on his forehead, gently caressing. His muscles relaxed a little and the pain was soothed just a bit.

Any interaction that you had had following that had been just like that - quick and to the point. But you had stood there silently holding his hand when the doctors undid the stitches and he asked to have a sapphire put in his empty eye socket instead of the usual marble. You had helped the nurse bandaging his eyes with your delicate hands, careful of his good eye. For weeks you had left tiny notes on his door, reminding him to take his medicines and apply the ointments the doctor had given.

The first actual conversation you had was before the first day of university, back in the first semester, when you realised that you had more than a few subjects in common - Applied Maths, Physics and environmental science. You had a terrible cold with your running nose and were unfit to drive anywhere. Cole was busy, so he had offered to drive you to the doctor’s instead.

“Thank you,” you had said, cleaning your nose with the tissue. Two boxes lay on your lap - a clean tissue one and a dump. “You are wasting time with me when you have to prepare for uni.”

“That’s fine, I am sure KLU will be fine without me for one more day.” He had said, concerned at the way your nose was turning a carrot red like a reindeer. “You don’t look like you’d be though.”

You let out a wet sneeze into the tissue and dumped it, your bin-box filling more rapidly than he had imagined. It was difficult for you to explain to the doctor with your runny nose, so you mumbled something incoherent to the doctor and Aemond translated your words for him. The doctor gave him a course of antibiotics and paracetamol in case you got a fever during the night. You blew your nose once again, only to start sniffing. The doctor then advised you to drink a tea concoction and regularly steam yourself to free that nose blockade.

Aemond had ordered you to stay with him that entire day, bringing you hot water, soup and tea whenever the cold got bad. It was then that he had asked you about yourself - your favourite colour, the way you liked your tea, and that you preferred coffee in the late afternoon rather than a strong tea, and that you had started learning about computer systems and were learning seamless hacking. It was then he heard from where exactly Otto had picked you up, suddenly seeing his grandfather with new-found respect. He never got to know why he picked you up, only knowing the reason Viserys thought wasn’t true. He learned that you had first spilled someone’s blood at the tender age of twelve - when an insistent member of the mafioso wanted to bed you against your wishes with the money dropped at the Gentleman’s Club owner’s feet, but you simply refused to lay with the old man, going as far as hitting him with the metal lamp in the room till he passed out.

You spoon clunks loudly, and Aemond looks at you to find an expression so murderous it would terrify the ghosts back to their graves. You rapidly blinked, forcing yourself to stay calm, but there was too much tension in your posture. Your fist is clenched tightly on your lap, the skin stretched over your knuckles. He gently reaches for your clenched fist, and you startle, turning to him with glazed eyes. Even the way you gulp down the water is angry.

“I am not feeling well,” your voice is heard on the table for the first time. You brush off his hand, yours being cold and clammy and his concern sky-rockets. “Thank you for the dinner. Excuse me, please.”

“Oh, did something upset your stomach, sweet girl?” Alicent asks, big brown eyes filled with concern. “Drink loads of water before you sleep.”

“Maybe, I will.” You quickly say, and push away from the table. Aemond wants to run after you, leg itching to stand up.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron pointedly look at him, and he finds the courage to get up. He calls out your name, but you are rushing out of the room, him hot at your heels. Something about it felt off, and he wonders what it exactly is that triggers your anger. He is chasing after you, even as you take the stairs instead of the lift, even as you hurriedly take off your heels at the second landing practically sprinting down the black marble staircase. And Aemond picks up his pace too, following you to your quarters, your back to him as your breaths become more violent.

“Y/N!” He calls, but you don’t answer, taking in furious breaths as you stare up at the ceiling. “What’s wrong?”

It's so quiet down here, he can clearly hear your panting breaths, the way you sniff loudly as if you are crying. His heart breaks when he hears you sob, reaching out to you by instinct as you begin to fall to your knees. He holds you as you start crying, both of you sitting on the cold marble floor, his arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you to his chest as you grab onto him like your life depends on it. He cannot see your tears, for your back is pressed against his chest, but his sleeve is soon wet with your tears and he cannot help but plant a light kiss to your forehead, hand running comforting circles on your hip as you continue wailing.

“I don’t know why!” you cry out through your tears. “I cannot sit at the same table as him. I cannot stand him! I hate him so much!”

“Who are you talking about darlin’,” Aemond softly asks, cheek resting on your head. “Should I bring out the revolver? Give me a name and I’ll put a bullet through their head. Make an example of what happens to people who make my girl cry.”

“I’ll do it.” you say, voice sharp even through the tears. “I want to crush his head with my bare hands. I want to suffocate him and make him suffer before I let him die.”

The hand not holding you comes up to your face, wiping away the tears staining your cheeks. Your shaking, eyes still pouring tears. “I’ll kill him so painfully,” you promise, but it is to yourself. “I’ll make his death so horrible that his coming generations will be terrified of me. I want to be their worst nightmare.”

“You certainly will be, darlin’,” He says, kissing the top of your head again. “You have to tell me though - ”

“I can still feel his hands on me!” You cry out again, turning in Aemond’s grasp to face him. Your hands on his thighs, and you look up at him with dark, tear filled eyes and tear stained cheeks. He hates that you look so broken, but a dark corner of his heart thinks you are so pretty, so pretty with tears in your eyes, he hates himself for it, but he is helpless. It just wants those tears to be that of pleasure, not this ache you are feeling. “Sometimes, when I sleep, I can still hear myself crying at him to stop, but he doesn’t. He never stopped.” Your voice is small, vulnerable.

Your hands now tightly grip his narrow waist, nails digging sharply into his flesh. “You can’t understand. I want to make him beg for me to kill him, to finally have mercy on him and let his pathetic life go.” You’re crying into Aemond’s chest now, his arms holding you as close as he can. His arms are wrapped around you in a tight hold, large hands on your sides leaving absent touches. “I want him to bleed as I once have.” Your words hold the promise of a cruel death, and it is music to him. 

“Whoever it is that hurt you,” Aemond says, gently rocking you in his arms. “I’ll be right by you as you give them the punishment that they deserve for hurting my girl.”

“They deserve to be punished, don’t they?” your voice is small as you ask for assurance, but the sob that rocks through you is violent, and his grip tightens. “All of them - they were terrible!” you cry into him, and his shirt is wet with your tears, cold against his burning heart. “They took me from… I had a father and a mother…” you say, sounding like a lost little child. His heart breaks a little more as you speak, “I think… I think I had a baby brother. I think I did… I can’t remember! I cannot remember my family, it’s all their fault. They stole me from my home!” you wail.

Aegon is in your room, but you don’t look up, you can’t. You are unaware of your surroundings, except for the smell of leather and limes that envelopes you. Aemond discreetly shakes his head, and Aegon stops whatever words were forming on his tongue. He sits down next to both of you, enveloping you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. “You will have your revenge, sweet girl.” Aegon’s deep voice is comforting. “We will make sure that anyone who has ever hurt you pays.”

The older Targaryen smells of the wine you drink when you are glum and the combination of those comforting scents lulls you into a sleep-like trance. Your eyes are burning, and you tightly hold on to Aemond for any semblance of reality, but you are quickly falling away from it.

.

When you don’t show up to the training sessions the next morning, the four siblings are concerned. Rhaenyra and her family had been escorted out after the seemingly peaceful dinner, not allowed to stay after Otto and Alicent had learnt of your… outburst. They are worried for you, and Cole doesn’t stop his kids when they insist on checking up on you. He follows them up to your quarters, and the five of them find you curled up on your bed, shivering and burning up with a fever.

Cole immediately calls Alicent and rings up a doctor, your skin is dulled from the fever and you barely make any noise except grunts and groans of ache. Your face is puffy from the fever and your cheeks are stained with tears, lips chapped raw.

Alicent is very concerned, nibbling on her nails as the doctor examines you, her worry mirroring onto her children. “What happened to Y/N, Mum?” Little Daeron asks. “Did the dinner upset her?” While he wasn’t too young to understand what had happened to you, he certainly had been then, not understanding your strange melancholy and anger. But he had always been your little sunshine.

“Maybe, the doctor will tell you.” She speaks with a forced smile.

“She was crying so much, wailing.” Aemond tells her. “I don’t think it’s the food that upset her. Once she is good enough to talk I will take the names.”

“I cannot think of any punishment that would suit them.” Helaena says. “It would be too easy and honourable of death for them if we kill them.”

“Not the kind they deserve.” Aegon adds, his voice bitter. “Aemond is right. We need to make examples out of them. No one, no one hurts our precious Y/N.”

“She’s been promised the life of the Boltons.” Otto adds, having sat silently this whole time. “She will have her revenge once she is ready to take it.”

“My girl wants to terrorize them to the coming generations,” Aemond added, a sinister smirk turning his curved lips. 

Helaena raises her brow at his endearment, but doesn’t comment on it, instead sighing, “She is going to raise hell,” she just says. “And look amazing while doing it.”

All of them rise together when the doctor exits her room, looking perplexed. “There is no sign of any infection,” he says. “Or any injury or any poison that could cause the fever. Perhaps it is exhaustion,” he thinks for a moment before adding, “It does seem like it’s a psychogenic fever. Something or someone triggered a stressful or traumatic event for her, and this is her body’s response.”

“Oh gods,” Alicent sighs, holding her hands together in front of her. “Will she be fine?”

“Maybe she just needs to sleep it off.” He says. “Do give her paracetamol when she wakes up, after she’s eaten something. You must speak with her about it.”

“Thank you so much, Doc.” Alicent says, and Cole leads the doctor back outside. 

When you wake up, head spinning even as you lay on your bed, you groan softly at your stiff body, recognising your little sunshine even through the hazy vision. You croak out his name, tongue feeling swollen and a horrible taste in your mouth. 

“I was so worried!” you hear Daeron say through a bubble of cotton, and reach out to him. “Everyone was so worried. You sure know how to give us all a scare!”

You tell him that your head is spinning, and he brings you water and props up your pillows to help you sit up, already having placed a chair for you to sit in front of the bathroom sink. The not-so-little little ball of sunshine helps you brush your teeth and scrape the horrid taste off your tongue, then washes your face and helps you back to your bed. You notice how much taller he has grown, for you can still remember when he barely reached your shoulders. Now you are leaning against him, and he is a head taller than you. He’s still shorter than Aemond and Aegon, closer in height to Aegon.

“Look at you, acting all like a grown-up man.” You sigh, feeling a lot better now that you have washed your face and rid the horrible taste.

“You had us on edge.” He complains. “The doctor came to see you, and he told us to keep you well fed and rested. Tell me, what bothered you so much that you feel sick?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, little boy.” You tell him, weakly pinching his cheek. He’s losing his baby face fast, slowly gaining his elder brothers’ signature cheekbones.

“Aemond said you were crying all night.” Daeron’s big violet eyes are full of concern, and you can feel a wave of sadness all over again. “I want to help you.”

“You can’t,” You sigh, falling against the pillows. “Only I can help myself.”

.

When you’ve eaten, taken the medicine and rested for a good couple of hours does Alicent permit the rest of her kids to see you, leading them all in. She sits beside you, checking you for any remnants of the fever, kissing your forehead in relief. Otto follows his daughter and grandkids, sitting on the armchair by the window. 

Aemond sits by your feet, one of his large hands on your calf and the other one on his thigh. Looking at him, you want to cry all over again - he just looks so sad - you want to hold him and thank him and apologise and kiss him all over because he brought you so much comfort and safety. 

Daeron is looking at you over his mother’s shoulder, smiling at you. You smile despite yourself, and resist the urge to pinch his rapidly disappearing baby cheeks. Helaena and Aegon sit on the other side of your legs, with Coco resting herself on Aegon’s lap as her head lay on Helaena’s. And your heart swells because you love this family so much, you cannot imagine yourself without them.

“How are you feeling?” Alicent asks, her voice soft as the hand caressing your head.

“Better now that I have been fed,” you chuckle, voice nasal. The crying last night didn’t help you at all. “But I have been better.”

“My sweet girl,” Alicent inhales deeply, finding the words to speak. “Tell me what torments your heart, and mind?”

You look away from her, focusing your gaze on the hand Aemond has on your calf, and he squeezes it reassuringly. You take a couple of deep breaths. “It’s nothing,” You say in the nasal voice, trying your best to sound detached. “Some horrid memories came back, and I was not strong enough to fight them.”

“It was Daemon, was it not?” Otto speaks, words falling over you like a wet blanket. 

Your heart beats faster, threatening to burst out of your chest and you can feel your gaze harden against your will. You clench your fists, sharp nails digging into your palms, and Coco whimpers, sensing your discomfort. He rouses from Aegon’s lap to rest his head on your thighs, licking your hand. “Good boy, Coco,” you coo at him, caressing his head.

“Was he -” Otto starts, but you cut him off before he finishes that question. “Yes,” His face hardens, and you can see him for the Consigliere that he is. If he was your boss, you’d be terrified of crossing him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You say, sensing the tension in the room. “I have had enough of that as it is. I want to go out.” You look into everyone’s eyes pleading. “Please?” Your gaze lingers on Aemond longer than necessary, and blink away.

It is funny how all of them immediately responded by agreeing with you, and Helaena pushed all of her brothers out with Otto and Alicent and helped you dress up in a fresh sweatsuit and wrapped you in a fluffy muffler, going all the way of being the elder sister you never had. Satisfied with your clothes, she gets to untangle your hair as she asks, “What’s going on between you and Aemond?”

“Is something going on between me and Aemond?” You ask, confused.

“What was that whole stunt at dinner last night?” Helaena teased, and you can feel yourself getting hot all over again for a very different reason. “Let me be a gentleman and pull a chair out for you, kissing your hand, hm?”

“Oh, I was just trying to tease Jacaerys.” You grin. “Aemond getting sweet revenge from his little nephews.”

“And Jacaerys has a little-boy crush on you?” Helaena laughs.

“Oh, I think it's a lot more than a boy-crush,”  You shudder, and she smacks you into stillness as she combs through your messy hair.

“Aegon and Aemond would have his hands before they let him touch you,” She says. “You should have seen how angry they were last night. I was too - you’re important for us, sweet Y/N - mother sees you as she sees us.”

“And I love her dearly,” You say. “You know I’d die to keep you safe.”

“I don’t think the world would be able to take it if you died.” Helaena says as she starts braiding your hair. “I know I wouldn’t, my brothers wouldn’t. Aemond would storm hell and fight Death to bring you back.”

“That’s a stretch,” You say, reaching for the tissue to blow your nose. 

“I know my little brother well,” She pulls your head back by the hair, tapping two fingers on your forehead. “And I know you well too. Never lie to me again.”

“No lies have left my mouth,” you tell her.

“I am not going to correct you,” Helaena says. “You’ll have to figure it out,”

You roll your eyes at her, done with your hair. You put Coco in his harness and leash, and went down to find the silver-haired brothers waiting for you with their hounds. Helaena follows you with hers, Dreamfyre. Aegon’s bloodhound is called Sunfyre, and he has the most beautiful coat of all the dogs. Daeron named his Tessarion, after some myth you couldn’t quite recall - she was young, only three. All the five dogs are ecstatic to be together, with Coco almost flying off the harness as you yell at him to slow down. 

“You look positively charming,” Aegon comments, taking Coco’s harness from you. 

You thank him, arms around yourself as you start walking to the park. It is a lazy stroll, and you don’t speak, enjoying the subtle wind on your face and the quiet conversation the siblings fall into. This is peace, you think. This is what peace feels like. You gaze at the sky, a little annoyed by the building that occasionally blocked your view of the twilight sky, mind void of any thoughts.

Once at the park, the dogs are left to their fun, and you continue your lazy stroll, hands in the pockets of your sweatpants, warming up. Aegon jogs up to you, bumping his shoulder into yours, nearly shoving you to the ground. You shove him back, grunting, “You little shit,”

“There she is, my precious Y/N,” He says, laughing as he pulls you close by the shoulder. He is warm, and you appreciate his sweet-wine smell. “I do believe you are perfectly fine again.”

“I think so,” You mumble.

“You do know that you tell me if anyone hurts you?” Aegon says, sounding as serious as he gets. “I’d poison them without a second thought.”

“I’d prefer if you keep your toxicology prowess a secret,” You say, patting his chest. “If anyone dares to cross me, I can deal with them myself.” You look up at him, all serious, and ask, “Have you ever killed a man?”

“Not that I can think of,” He says. “I have seen men being killed though. Why do you ask? Have you?”

“Mmh,” you say, looking straight ahead, thinking of the day Otto had taken you with him. You had been a persistent pest in his hair, demanding to leave that hellhole with him. When the guards had tried to stop Otto, he had pulled out his trusty revolver, but the guards merely threw it away. The experienced Otto had fought them viciously, even barehanded - and you bit your captor’s arm, hard - till you tasted the gross tang of his blood, and lunged for the dropped revolver, shooting the four guards down with six bullets. You had missed two shots, but managed to hit the rest four in delicate organs - the head and the chest, watching in shock as they bled to death. Otto had then snatched you away from the bloody mess, your hands and teeth stained in blood. He had given you his handkerchief to clean your arms, and you could still see the bloody cloth clearly in your head.

“Where’re you lost, sailor?” Aegon’s deep voice sounds, his chest vibrating with his voice on your arm. “Thinking about your kills?”

“Yes,” you sigh, leaning into him. Your voice sounds nasal, and you hate yourself for it, but you cannot help it.

“Are you crying again, sweet girl?” His voice is gentle, as if he is talking to a little kid, and your eyes water up with hot tears again, even after draining your tear ducts last night. “Tell me what’s wrong, we can help you.”

Coco runs to you, forgetting his playmates on sensing your awful mood. He is by your side in an instant, licking your thigh over your sweatpant, and you are so grateful for him, you coo at him, telling him that you are fine, that he is such a good boy taking care of you. “Good boy Coco, I love you.”

You sit down in the middle of the field on the grass, with Coco resting on your lap, licking your hand and wrist. Aegon squats to your level, caressing your back as you fight back your tears. A tall shadow covers you, and your glistening eyes find Aemond looking down at you, concern filled in his one eye. The sapphire gleams in the moonlight, and you think he looks beautiful.

“Darlin’,” Aemond says, his voice music to your ears. He gets down on his knees, still towering over you and you want to throw yourself to him but you are paralyzed - unable to get your body to move. Coco gets up from your lap, whimpering at Aemond. “You’re safe now,” he says, his cold, large hand resting on your warm cheek. “You’re with us now, no one can harm a hair on your head.”

You lean into his touch, the comfort and safety he brought you, and all you can think is of how you want to thank him, apologise to him and kiss him all over because he has started to feel like home, that he has now become a part of you than just your friend and college going companion. Your breaths are violent and stuttering and your eyes burn, but you swallow your tears down, Aemond’s cold hand on your cheek and Aegon’s comforting rubs on your back grounding you to reality.

“I am fine now,” You manage after a moment, voice stiller than you felt. You inhaled deeply once, twice, clearing your blocked nose a little. “I’m fine,”

“No you’re not,” Aemond decides, sitting down with his legs crossed in front of you. Your gaze is fixed on Coco’s brown paws, and you don’t see the look the brothers share before Aegon kisses the top of your head and leaves. “You’ve got to tell me what’s been bothering you, darlin’, I’ll find a way to make it better.”

“Revenge will make me feel better.” You say, sorrow replaced with anger. “I want blood.”

“You will have blood, of each and every one of them,” Aemond promised, hand under your chin, making you look into his dark gaze, his one eye focused on you. The sapphire in his eye socket gleams wickedly, and your hand reaches to caress the scar running on his beautiful face. He flinches at the contact, eye closing momentarily before it tracks your movement.

His face is cold to the touch, and you wonder if the cold hurts him like it did six years ago. You’re on your knees and toes, leaning forward to him, the scarred side of his face and your dry lips touch the bottom of his scar, onto the hollow of his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper against his cheek, eyes fixated on the curvature of his parted mouth. You’re close enough to him that you can feel the heat of his breath on your neck, and you want to kiss him. You know you will regret it later, but you want to touch his pretty lips with yours. You wonder how his mouth will feel against yours, would it be teasing and gentle like his words or intense like his gaze. You don’t realise that you are reaching forward, not until his hands firmly grab your shoulders, holding you in place. You’re so close - you can feel his breath on your mouth, and it smells of citrus, like an orange or lime.

“I’ll let you kiss me when you are thinking of kissing me,” His voice is low, reverberating. “Not when you are thinking of your pain. Talk to me, my love. Tell me what has been bothering my girl. Then I’ll kiss you - if you’ll have all of me. But I’ll only kiss you when you want to kiss me, not looking for a distraction. Okay?”

“Mhm hmm,” You say, not looking away from him. You let yourself fall into his arms, and he is there to catch you, holding you against his chest as you close your eyes, feeling safe. There is a safety that being in his warm embrace brings which you don’t feel anywhere, not even with your computers. You are content with the silence, the rise and fall of his chest against your back, the press of his mouth on the top of your head, and your mumble, “Will you carry me home if I fall asleep?”

“Of course, darlin’,” He whispers, but it is carried away by the wind that lulls you into a heavy slumber.

.

.

.

Tags: @dollfaceyourfear @ladymoon666 @chainsawsangel @esmaada @amadwomanrambles @devils-blackrose @darthgamer74

Edit: I am so sorry i forgot to add you two here!

@p0rnstargirl @aerysa-targaryen

[arcielee]

Aōhon iksan

Summary: Daeron has come back from Oldtown to play his role in King’s Landing and marry one of the Four Storms.   Paring: Daeron Targaryen x Female!Reader (third person)  Word Count: 1183 Warnings: AFAB, sexual innuendo mentioned, kissing.  Author’s Note: This is dedicated to the lovely @harrycollettapologist who submitted this request and inspired this drabble ♥ Thank you to my amazing beta readers @aspen-carter​ and @killergirlfuria​  Also! Aōhon iksan is I am yours in Valyrian.  Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll

Daeron Targaryen was the third son of King Viserys and the youngest of his siblings; yet despite how his grandsire instilled the thought that his sole purpose would be to create alliances, he seemed more of an afterthought, with the way he was sent away to Oldtown. There he remained isolated, just a squire in Lord Ormund’s shadow until word arrived that his father was dead and it was his brother who now sat on the Iron Throne. 

This ignited the dragon’s blood that burned in his veins as he returned at once aback Tessarion. He landed at the peak of Rhaenys’ Hill, the dragonkeepers rushing to assist the blue scaled dragon, alerting his grandsire of his arrival. Daeron was greeted at the barbican of the Red Keep, his mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders while his grandsire feigned the excitement of the news that his brother had just returned from Storm’s End after securing a betrothal for him to one of the Four Storms. 

He prepared himself for the namesake, but instead found himself enamored with the arrival of Lady Baratheon. 

She was beautiful, in the least, with a presence that soothed whatever room she entered, with grace to her every movement and a voice that was the soft trill of musical chimes. Lady Baratheon was the physical embodiment of a princess-to-be, but in the moments they were allowed alone, the few before the wedding, she showed him her tactful wit and sound mind, their conversation at ease between them. 

The whispers of the Red Keep fluttered about the rushed engagement, how the poor Lady Baratheon could not be afforded even the second son, but that she had to wed the third. Though he flushed with the rumors, oddly enough, she appeared to be just as intrigued with Daeron as he was with her. With the allotted time allowed together, her questions seemed genuine and she was rapt to his attention with his reply; as they were escorted back to their respective rooms, he felt himself both fortunate and flustered by her. 

A week after her arrival, it was decided to have an intimate ceremony in the Royal Sept, with only a family meal afterwards to allow them all to become better acquainted. Daeron kept his large hands folded in front to keep from fidgeting, a shyness that accompanied the lady when she came up to his side, though the soft touch of her hands to his own settled him. The Septon was monotonous and they echoed the vows, his low timbre with her melodious lilt.  

They were escorted to the small hall that glowed golden with the candle light, decorated tastefully and the table laden with a feast while the minstrels played low, but jovial, melodies while they ate.

It was almost unnerving to be back within this very room, his last memory almost a decade prior where he saw his father sitting center and his mother perched at his side. Now, his mother sat at one end while his brother, King Aegon, who proudly wore the Conqueror’s Crown since it had been placed on top of his head, was seated center with his sister-wife at his side. They were picturesque, he was regal and Helaena now seemed to exude a queenly aura that complemented her serenity. 

Aemond sat at the end, his severity etched into the sharp contours of his face and his jeweled eye gleamed in his scarred socket–Daeron only learning the day he returned that his eye had been taken. He glowered with the authority from the title bestowed by the king, Protector of the Realm, which seemed to be a cover-up from the debt of his eye repaid in blood. 

Daeron was seated by his new lady wife, who spoke with her musical diction that engaged the attention of his family, and he sat silent at her side, the always-forgotten Targaryen prince. 

In so many ways, his family had changed and grown into themselves, but some habits remained, including Aegon’s love of Dornish wine. Daeron watched his red stained lips utter a crude comment about a crude custom abolished two kings prior–his right to the first night.

There was the thought of how Targaryens were closer to gods than men and Daeron now felt the thrum of ichor curl with the fire in his veins. 

But Aemond acted first, grabbing Aegon by the scruff of his regal fabric and dragging him from the table. He saw the tears that pearled in his mother’s eyes, her regret threatening to spill, and how his sweet sister excused herself to disappear in the shadows of the Red Keep. 

Daeron stood, offering his arm to his lady wife.

It was a white fury that clouded his vision, the combination of his embarrassment, the rumors that trickled within the castle walls and the blatant disrespect shown at the dinner table. He wished to speak to her, to apologize, to take action, but instead his tongue remained swollen in his mouth, choking him. 

His automatic steps halted when the white knight broke his trance, “My prince, this way.”

Oh. The realization they were being escorted to the marital room prepared and he now found himself truly alone with his wife, the lovely Lady Baratheon. 

It was the same warm, golden hue from the candles light and that poured from the ornate hearth lit and waiting for their arrival. They both remained standing and then she moved towards the small tablet, pouring a fresh goblet and bringing it to Daeron, which he accepted numbly. 

He took a sip to wet his throat. “My lady, I want to apologize,” he began, setting down the goblet and turning to face her.

“What for?”

His tongue wet his lips as he looked to her, watching her slow, serene movements as she sat down the picture and moved towards him, one step in front of the other, her brow both knitted and elegant above her scrutinous stare. “You did nothing wrong, my prince,” she continued.

He felt his cheeks warm within her proximity. “Daeron,” he placed his hand to his chest, “I wish you to call me Daeron.”

He felt his cock twitch against the crotch of his trousers from the demure way her eyes lifted, how they watched him under her long, dark lashes, how her perfectly pink lips curled. “Yes, Daeron,” she tested his name and it was sweet like honey on her tongue. “You have nothing to apologize for, nothing has changed what happened tonight.”

He blinked, empty, almost dumb until she sweetly reminded him, “I am your lady wife now,” and her smile brightened as Daeron grew rosier with her words. “I am yours, Daeron.”

She closed what little space had remained between them, her small palm resting on top of his large hand stilling resting on his chest. Daeron felt his throat hitch from her sweet scent of lavender that curled into his chest and beckoned him to her. He tilted his head, his silver tresses spilling forward, until the tip of his nose gently touched her own.

And he kissed her. 

arcie’s masterlist

[omgkatherine01]

Moments to Memories - Masterlist

Summary: You're the oldest child of Rhaenyra and Laenor, however your true father was Daemon Targaryen. You are their and your grandparents' beloved child, and you had a very close bond with your youngest uncle, Daeron.

But it all changed when your uncle Aemond claimed a dragon.

Pairing: Daeron Targaryen x Fem! Targaryen reader

Warning: Childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, Incest (uncle/niece), smut, blood, death, Otto Hightower, Criston Cole, and Larys Strong.

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Note: This is a requested story. Here

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 coming soon

[faces-ofvenus]

Daeron x wild genius girl HCs? Like he seems calm and levelheaded so it’d be funny to imagine him trying to keep up with a rambunctious person.

Yes it was just supposed to be something pro Daeron, but I don't know I was seduced by the Targaryen, currently I'm annoyed because the Tumblr gave error and the blog didn't come as I wanted :). I hope you at least like the Daeron part, honestly I wrote more stuff but Tumblr deleted it.

Your relationship with Aegon would be like you are the brake of this man, he is like a cannon ball that is just waiting for some gunpowder, and you are so serious and tough that honestly it is so strange, Aegon wants to test all your limits, he is a person without limits if we can say so, and it's up to you to set them, secretly he loves, he loves your rules, he loves how you are a highly pacifist, who hates confrontation and your diplomacy, it's something that is not only sexual, but he doesn't know it, he feels that you are so powerful and sincerely being next to you makes him feel strange.

You are not as gifted in showing affection, not like him, Aegon feels that with you he could take you in any corner, and be seen by anyone, and you sincerely would like to keep your dignity, but it's funny, because he takes away your more rebellious side this side that you never allowed yourself to release, mainly with the fears of the labels you know you will receive, but who dares to label the queen/princess, don't worry love, your head will be on a platter just for you, but you don't allow yourself to think about it much, not when he convinced you to use a secret passage and climb on the council table or on the iron throne itself, in the kitchen, just what this man is making you, you don't know but you love, you love to walk with him on Sunfyre's back, how liberating the wind in your hair and caressing your face.

Aegon loves to drink and guess what, you loathe him in every way, it's not because of labels, or anything like that, you just hate how people get when drunk, they change so much and mask their character through drinks that only take away your judgment each time, so no you don't abhor booze you abhor the rampant way Aegon ends up drowning in it, how it just doesn't allow him to grow up to be the man you know he can become, Aegon doesn't see the appeal, he's perfectly fine drunk, wrong he sees a time, after almost having sex with a whore he thought was you, in his distorted vision it seemed, he only recognized that there wasn't the same sweet smell you grew from lilies, or when he almost said so many horrible things at a dinner party that not only embarrassed you but everyone around you, he was already used to the look of disappointment from his relatives, but he couldn't stand yours, you made him promise to really try, and he wouldn't even take it seriously, if he didn't see the look you gave him, and he saw how serious you were, and he tried, with slips here and maybe there, but always making sure it was enough to get you back into bed at night.

You might be a little too naive, maybe just a little, unlike Aegon, he is so malicious, his looks his sighs his smile everything about him says how depraved he can be, and you are not ignorant no you see that, but at the same time you can't help your naivety and innocence to some of his attitudes, maybe that's why you are still with him everybody thinks, but as much as Aegon always tries to get the worst out of you, You're not stupid of course, you're not blind, and that doesn't mean that your innocence should be confused by one of those adjectives, it's just a way for both Aegon and you to bring out sides that neither of you before you met allowed yourself to know with each other.

Being the total opposite of Aemond is so funny I can say, you are just a sweetheart of a person all over the face of the earth, from the heavens where only the wings of the greatest dragon can reach to the bottom of the sea where there are no more lives, it's just weird really that you and Aemond are in a relationship, like!? Like this.

Not exactly it has to make sense, you and Aemond don't give a damn about people who say you shouldn't be with him or visse versa, just because of your personality, as I mentioned in Aegon's, plus your genetics unlike Aemond's inherent cruelty, you are highly innocent and just sweet with everyone, so it would be no different with Aemond, sweetness is garlic which frankly he strongly abhors, being kind friendly and nice, is a sign of weakness and he feels everyone will take advantage and swallow you for it, but he loves how he loves, the sweet way not how you treat others, it just gives him a feeling of envy and jealousy, but how you treat him, how you gently run your hands over his face, how you kiss his scar, how in your eyes there is never pity when you see his eye or his scars, you just love him, and he thanks you so infinitely, he allows himself to be kind only to you, he will be hostile to everyone, which you disapprove of with a passion, it makes him in front of you not kind, only less aggressive, sarcastic and mean in every way.

So yes dear servant be glad you won't lose your job or a body part, because you were there, and you soothed Aemond by the woman spilling wine on his expensive dress with the Hightower colors, he even forgot, for a while his dress stained, it was hard to remember the servant's face when she ran out into the halls, and his eyes and bodies were fixed on your body, on your lips, and how they looked so perfect together from yours, so be thankful.

Aemond will swallow up anyone who takes advantage of your naivety, you're like an innocent sheep that everyone thinks, ah it's easy to kill you, but behind you is not so hidden mind a giant fucking dragon with eyes so dark and cruel that he will burn anyone who tries to lay a finger on your soft strands of hair, he protects you from everything and everyone, you are not weak, but the fact that you always really avoid confrontations to the point of getting hurt or being hurt, that will not happen anymore, not while you have a beautiful Targaryen prince as your love, and that will be forever.

Your dynamic in my mind is something like INTJ and ENFP, like two opposite currencies that complete each other in unimaginable ways, those who see it at first glance simply think it's impossible and even crazy for Daeron to support you, or to support your outgoing and hyperactive personality, well, sometimes they are right, the platinum prince is not as sociable as you, even though he is someone who is quite diplomatic, so sometimes your social battery runs out easily, which was something you quickly learned.

It was always difficult because you were like a bottomless pit, you just couldn't get any more, you just overflowed, you could never keep still or stand still for long, and you felt quite insecure because Daeron is quite closed off especially when it comes to feelings or his past, which is unlike you who once told your life story to a stranger on the street that you had helped, but this is not all bad, with you Daeron learned to really talk, without being for political agreements, you are usually the one who brings up some random subject, what he finds totally funny and what makes him feel comfortable in your presence, he doesn't feel obligated you are like a free spirit, that moves like the wind, and he allows himself sometimes to try to be more with you.

He keeps you calm most of the time when you are standing still, usually because you really end up bumping into various things, or just talking on and on, he doesn't mind talking he just doesn't want you to get hurt, so sometimes privately you are almost always sitting on him or in his lap, and his arms around you, while you are chattering about something, or lying in a meadow where your head is on his chest and you are in a comfortable embrace, him enjoying the beautiful moments, while listening to you talking about trees, squirrels, and just watching the sky, is something that warms his heart, or when you are in public he doesn't show direct affection, but still he insists on letting his arm tied around yours if possible, or being up close watching you, usually with a smile on his face while watching you talking to some lady, who for sure can't keep up with your broken humor, and nonsense jokes that nobody finds funny, well just you and him.

[missglaskin]

Targaryen underrated men + TWT LINKS (MINORS DNI)

Note-can be considered part 2, there are some not included  

Aegon I Targaryen 

Taking you from behind 

Him pounding in and out of you mercilessly

Takes control even when you’re on top 

Maegor Targaryen 

His pace is unforgiving 

Doesn’t finger you often but when he does it’s ruthless 

Taking you from behind 

Baelon Targaryen 

Fingering you 

He’ll fuck you any place any time 

Loves to watch his cum ooze out of your cunt 

Daeron the Daring

Sucking your tits 

Riding him

Always eager to please

Aemon the Dragon Knight

Always intimate with you

Sucking his cock 

So eager to please you

Daeron I Targaryen 

He loves it when you ride him

Fingering you before he fucks you 

Likes to watch the way his cock slides into your pussy 

Daemon Blackfrye

Taking his needy and frenzied thrusts 

When you keep testing his patience

Riding him 

Rhaegar Targaryen 

Eating you out

Thigh riding him

The two of you alone in the morning 

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐕 ✴️

Taglist: @faespace @baellabass @ejs398

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, mentions of noncon

>Alicent and her children had been guarding your sleep the whole night, the night of the king's passing

>Aemond saw his mother just observe you while displaying an unreadable expression, he prides himself with being able to decipher people and use it to his benefit, but this time, his mother seemed out of reach to him. If he had to guess, she was attempting to treat you like a pawn, trying to dehumanize you to gain control over the political situation, and she was failing

>For his part, his thoughts while observing you, were much tainted he was watching your chest rise with every breath, examining your boobs and how they would slightly change shape when you laid on your back, much rounder. He would love if his mother and sister left to grope and caress, even just over the cloth, even for just a minute. Just a minute to smell your skin, your natural scent now free of the perfumes you would wear to fit in court

>He would love to have a minute, but he wants a whole life, Aemond is sure not even growing old with you would leave him satisfied, he would look for you again

>He wondered what would you think of him, he has a plethora of fantasies depending on your reactions. The most obvious one, disgust. He would cage you his his arms, hold your wrists with one hand while using the other to rid you of the bothersome clothing, sucking and biting at your neck, then your niples. You resist, but he is able to bring you pleasure regardless, some of your screams turn into moans and by the time he's kissing below your navel and starting to use a finger to play with your slit, your pleas of "no" and "please do not" are almost automatic, you do want him to go down on you, but you continue to chant the words as if to preserve what's left of purity

>But that fantasy would soon get old, he wished to exert power over you, yet have you willingly submit

>If you could only look at him the same way that you used to while consoling him over his lack of a mount

>Helaena was there as well, Jahaera and Jahaerys had been brought by her, but taken to bed by the maids in no time

>Helaena sung intelligible songs while playing with the threads in-between her fingers, for the little audible parts, Aemond heard the songs speak of dragons, swords, fire and blood

>His mother had arranged for Aegon to usurp the throne, he would never say this out loud, he knows his brother is a usurper, but he encourages this, as he wants the strong bastards away from the line of succession as one can be. Better off dead, but that's too much to ask

>Everything was in place, except for the king. Aegon was missing, «of course Aegon was missing» he thought

>Otto wanted to send ser Criston to find him, but Alicent protested it would leave you alone. They went back and forth until Otto said they would entrust Daeron with your guard. Aemond rolled his eye.

>Helaena had left without him noticing, possibly to mother the twins and whatnot

>He was in his mother's chambers, Otto alongside her, discussing the future of the realm. «This is the real small council» he said to himself

>"I will find Aegon, mother" said Aemond

>"That is already taken care of, Ser Criston will not rest until-" Otto spoke

>"He doesn't know where Aegon is, I do"

>"Then speak at once, boy" Aemond grimaced at the words of his grandsire

>"I am not to speak, I am to search, this is matter that requires involvement" he paused "But I want something"

>"We shall send Ser Criston, you will join if he fails"

>"And waste all that time? He may be as well as dead halfway through ser Criston's crusade"

>"Name your prize" Otto replied, breathing defeat in every syllable

>"You will hear it after" Aemond saw Otto arch an eyebrow and open his mouth to speak "Do not worry, I have no interest on the crown, or land, or titles, I would have acted before had been that my goal" His mother urged him to speak, but he had to remain silent, he was sure she would understand

>Him and the royal guard were underdressed in rags to blend in, Aemond wore a cape to cover his silver mane

>He had to endure the obnoxious Cole knocking on every brothel door like he was a lost peasant

>He was very uncomfortable when he found the madam of that one place, staying stiff and shivering under his cold facade

>He thanked the seven you could not see him like that, weak

>Once they found the White Worm, she said the prince would be handed over a ridiculous sum that they bargained

>But before they could leave with Aegon, he remembered something. The White Worm weaves silk through far and wide in the realm. The White Worm who is the paramour of the prince of the city, the White Worm that could have been your mother

>Aemond would order extra vigilance on you that night, while Misarya was known to be a slimy, untrustworthy woman, she had never been known to betray Daemon, or to betray gold for that matter, and Daemon was not going to skimp on you

>He had to say he was anything but surprised when he learned of that idiotic scheme of his brother to leave the city. Aemond imagined he'd waste his small fortune on whores as soon as he arrived, feast with men who are just waiting for him to surrender his better judgement to a glass of wine, then steal whatever is left. He always thought Aegon would likely die with his pants on his knees, possible covered in vomit and other fluids, choking on a chicken bone, or something as meaningless as a cherry pit, his women would steal his gold and he'd die slowly, lonely, pathetically, he had to say the idea did not displeased him too much

>But then, he could only cash his prize if he retrieved him, in one piece no less

>Aegon had returned, being almost locked up in his chambers, and the death of Viserys continued a secret to the world until the preparations for Aegon's ascension were finished. By the third day, the corpse of his father started to stink, he had already been rotting in life, and death was not stopping that. He looked at the king, he found him graceless, he had nothing, he was an absent king and absent father, Aemond would do better if he had the chance

>A couple hours after Aegon's arrival, you had woken up, almost immediately you were taken from your room and (to your perspective) randomly put on another, the maids insisted it was for your safety, and you decided to not waste a breath asking them questions that were for someone else. You wanted to see Alicent, and you wanted to see Viserys

>No one would give you answers, and you had no way of communicating with your family, not your father or even your family in the castle, for that matter, you only had ser Criston as a form of familiarity, not even your usual maids were to be seen anywhere. Even though you did not wish to think of it, it was probably because Aegon had chosen them to place his "affections"

>The second night you were awake and isolated, you commanded sir Criston to come into your room and talk to you, give you whatever detail of information he had. He refused again and again, with excuses of how he answered to the queen only, how he was to the door to protect you, how it was improper

>But he ended up giving in

>He told you all he could say, was that the king had died, and that now a conflict of ink and ravens was arising

>You wept the lost of your uncle, and (awkwardly) ser Criston put a hand on your shoulder, ghosting over it. And he told you to fear not, you were in good hands

>You wanted to believe him, you did

>Back to Aemond, he had come to speak with his mother as soon as he was done arranging your room transfer. He felt accomplished by commanding, especially when commanding for your well-being. Alicent knew what Aemond would ask for, and she had tried to ready herself to hear it

>"I want lady Y/N, wed her to me" he did little to stop the smile growing on his lips

>Alicent could have said many things, but she just asked her son one thing. "Do you understand the consequences, Aemond?"

>He nodded, he did not care, if the consequences of taking you were fire and blood, so be it. Never in the seven kingdoms had existed a more lovely lady, and Aemond was only blind in one eye

>He wanted to marry her before Aegon's crowning, and he had threatened to get the supreme septon to do it in secret if he had to, he was smart, and knew it was just a matter of time before Daemon and Rhaenyra caught wind of everything, and he will not lose you

>Daeron had come to face him, Aemond never thought he had the balls to do it

>Whining about his lack of honor, how he was stealing their cousin, dragging them when she was practically engaged to him already

>Aemond let his anger simmer, he smiled while the boiling blood warmed his body, the delicious liquid reminding he was alive, he lived for the taste of rage, his or from others

>"Worry not, little brother, you can now take your vows as a white cloak, so you can become my wife's sworn sword and stand behind her door when she and I share our bedchamber"

>Daeron reached for his sword, he did the same

>"Uh uh, are you sure?" He teased while Daeron seemed on the verge of tears (sadness, ire, who knows)

>His younger brother simply walked away from him, in shame

>You were losing your mind in confusion, and no tantrums from you were enough for the servants to let you leave your chambers to visit Viserys' corpse

>So imagine your surprise when the maids came with shiny new silks, to dress you for your wedding day

>Two ladies, one named Olivya Swann and one named Celesse Hightower, announced themselves as your new ladies in waiting. They said your measures were needed to confect a wedding gown for you, you refused to strip until they spoke and told you what was going on, you felt bad for them, as they were clearly not the ones to blame for the mayhem

>It took a while, the maids genuinely did not know much, the orders came from above and they obeyed. But it was Celesse who finally broke down. They were sent to aid the preparations for your wedding to prince Aemond

>You had to sit down on the bed, your head was spinning around, now there was nothing to do, you were a prisoner in King's Landing. And it was easy to put two and two together, they were not planning to bend the knee to Rhaenyra, and you were there as a pawn in their twisted game of chess

>You yelled at the women to leave you alone, and despite their attempts to calm you down, you ordered them to go. You knew they would come back later, but you simply could not stand there like nothing was happening

>How could Alicent allow this? If they wanted to marry you to the greens, why Aemond? It was clear you and Daeron had far more in common, and comments were made about betrothing you to him, why Aemond?

>Aemond was cruel, and you could never decipher what he wanted from you, he took pleasure on hurting your family, and you were further perplexed on why would he want to marry a bastard

>Maybe he was being forced to marry you too, it would have made you almost sympathetic if it were not for his previous actions

>You tried to sleep, you layed fully dressed on the bed without covering yourself with the blankets

>You dreamt of nothing, and were awaken once again by the maids looking to measure you

>They came in, and helped you undress as to avoid the measures be altered by the thick of your clothing

>You were sleepy and docile, allowing them to carefully place the meter in your waist, bust, hips and shoulders, they also measured your arms

>Olivya presented you with squares of several luxury fabrics, one stack was several shades of white, and the other was a similar amount of shades of green.

>You did not let the opportunity slip, this would probably be the one choice you would have on your marriage

>You made your ladies show you each and every square of fabric, you took all the time in the world. Finally, the chosen ones were pearl white with emerald and laurel green. The colors reminded you of your dragon, you missed him so much, but the gods only know where he could be, he was too large for the dragonpit and therefore set free, he would have come to your calling once you left with your family, that was what was supposed to happen

>You spent three more days locked away, at least you had Olivya and Celesse now. Celesse came from Oldtown, she was the daughter of Hobert Hightower, you made her tell you stories of Daeron, as you were unable to see him. You fondly smiled when thinking of him, your dragon knight

>Olivya was from the stormlands, but she had been raised in King's Landing, as her uncle was serving in court, and she was brought to keep company to princess Helaena

>You told them of Pentos, then of Dragonstone, you told them of your little brothers, so small and cute, you also told them about dragons, you told them about your home, in all its meaning

>Three days after the measuring, the wedding gown was ready, you were amazed, and wondered how many people had been working in full speed in order to complete such an intricate piece in so little time. There was pearls and little gems embroided in the translucent sleeves, a green dress, a beautiful Hightower green dress

>Celesse spoke highly of your soon-to-be husband, telling tales of his skill with the sword and his intelligence

>Olivya told you you would enjoy married life, that the prince was a fine suitor with "admirable manners"

>You remained silent, luckily, your saddened face was covered by a white veil

>What you saw could hardly be called a ceremony, there was Alicent, Aemond and a septon. You slowly walked towards the altar, and recited the vows you had learned when fantasizing as a little girl, none of your fantasies happened this way

>Like always, Aemond was unreadable, and you did not care to try to read him anymore

>There was no feast, no celebration, nothing remotely similar to the wedding ceremony of a prince

>Like everything around the castle, it was rushed, poorly done and with second intentions behind it

>You struggled to look at Alicent, she was dear to you once, but now you debate whether should you trust her

>During the dreaded wedding night, you expected Aemond to humiliate you, to take you by force and call you names, to degrade you

>Anxiety pooled in your stomach, and your eyes burned as you tried to hold tears in

>But instead, he kissed your hand and laid next to you, not even touching you

>You must disgust him, he was forced to marry you, and he has no interest in you, you thought you found yourself in the position of Rhea Royce

>But you could speak plainly to Aemond, you always had

>"An unconsummated marriage can be easily annulled" you pointed out

>"You don't sound at all aroused with the idea, you appear hardly seductive" Aemond replied

>Aemond sat down on the bed, you copied him

>"I am not Aegon, I found screams for help less than enticing. Besides, you would never love me if I raped you" he stated as if he was talking about his day

>"Who says I love you now?" Maybe you should have not been so bold, but you were

>"We are married, you'll learn to do it eventually"

>"As humble as ever. Then let me ask why I should I love you, and you are free not to"

>"I love you, Y/N" you could feel the scorching heat coming from his eye, the sapphire shone in the candlelight. You were speechless, it would have been hard to believe if he wasn't gazing at you so intensely, he carefully took your hand in his

>"You have not acted as such" was the only thing you thought to answer

>"I am not Daeron" your eyes widen in shame. It is not unfaithfulness, yet shame makes you feel as if it is "But again, you have not treated me like you treated Daeron, have you?" He knew what he was doing to you

>"He never called me a bastard"

>Despite the topics of conversation, you both remained calmed, vulnerable in the cocoon of the sheets, your hand was still intertwined with his

>"Neither have I" he squeezed your hand a little

>"But you continue to humiliate Jace, Luke and Joffrey for it"

>"And I paid with my eye. And with you" you look at him confused after he says that, so he continues "After I bonded with Vhagar, you pushed me away, you never forgave me for it"

>"You never asked for forgiveness"

>"And I will not, not for what I did, but perhaps the way I did it"

>You and your husband talked for what it felt like days, for what it felt like years of lost time

>By the hour of the nightingale, you felt like you married one man and now lay with another. Despite his hardened exterior, you now smile at Aemond the way you did once when you were children

>"We still have time to make this wedding night exciting, my lady wife" he smiled mischievously, you looked at him with slight distrust, hoping he was not expecting sex after all that heartfelt talk "would do me the honor of flying with me?" You smiled

>"Dagahrion is not here"

>"There's plenty of room in Vhagar, I ride the largest dragon in the world"

>"You clearly have not seen mine lately" you teased

>"I suppose we'll have to clear that matter once he returns"

>You dressed up and sneaked into the dragonpit, this kind of mischief made you think of happier days, made you forget about the mess

>You missed Vhagar, she used to be Laena's, and she remembered you

>You rode with Aemond until sunrise, in that moment it was just the three of you. No marriage, no usurpation, no conflicts, nothing but the wind in your faces

>Until you had to come back, and you found the preparations for Aegon's coronation being set in place

>"This is outrageous, disgraceful, illicit! This is simply- this is bullshit, Aemond!" You shouted to him once alone "Aegon will be the worst king since Maegor and you know that"

>"I am not the one who sat him on that throne, don't you shout at me for it"

>"It's true, but you are not doing anything to stop it, Rhaenyra should be crowned"

>"Of, course, then Jacaerys Strong can become protector of the realm" he snickered sarcastically

>"May his father be Ser Harwin, Laenor or the damn mushroom, we are sure he is of Rhaenyra and that is what matters"

>"If he was born of Rhaenyra's husband then it truly would not matter if his sire is mushroom or whoever may he be, he is a bastard"

>"So am I! Appoint me leader of the bastard council If you want, because I will defend his claim to the throne, Rhaenyra is the heir and you and I know Aegon is a depraved drunk"

>"Bastard or not, you are my wife, and I will not argue anymore, you are mine now. And when you are called, I want you pretty and smiling when witnessing his coronation, because your husband says so" you had not even realized when he had caged you against the wall, his eyes burning with rage. No trace left of the man you spent last night with

>"Yes, my prince" was all you said. He nodded, kissed your forehead and left the room

>Your father used to call the court "the nest of vipers" and now you understand, the only way to survive was playing their game

>You called in for Olivya and Celesse. Told them to dress you and arrange you to attend Aegon's coronation

>You were pleasant, smiling when you had to, staying right at your husband's side, one may think of you as tame

>You even let Aemond fancy himself your hero, standing before you when Meleys interrumpted the ceremony

>Rhaenys looked at you, you knew she could not steal you away from this, so in her eyes, you imagined her apology

>You decided you will come back to your family, and so, after Aegon's coronation, you told Alicent you needed to go to the Sept, being so throughly shaken. As Aemond said you needed to be guarded all day long, you asked for Daeron to accompany you. Aemond would have never allowed it, but Aemond was not there, he was with the small council talking about recruiting the loyalty of different houses

>Once in the Sept, after praying, you looked at Daeron, it pained you to ask

>"Do you love me, Daeron?"

>"You are married to my brother, my lady"

>"We know what happened. And I did not ask you that"

>"It is improper for us to talk this way"

>You felt rejected, but once again asked "Do you love me, Daeron?"

>"I do" he bashfully responded

>"Enough to run away with me?"

>"Don't make me choose between honor and love"

>"I fear I have to"

>"Enough to run away with you"

>"Then meet me at the dragonpit at the hour of the bat"

>"Y/N, please-"

>"I will run regardless, but I would rather you are with me"

>You rose from your knees looking at him

>He came closer, your lips were near, but not touching, you could feel his breath

>"Kiss me once we're far away, do whatever you desire then" you say before leaving the Sept

>You decided to wait in the library until it was time to go, on your way, ser Criston asked if he could scort you there, you were reluctant, but skillfully lied and said it would be a pleasure

>"My lady, may I speak plainly to you?"

>"You have my permission"

>"I saw you asked for prince Daeron to accompany you in your prayers. Please don't look for him, he loves you, my lady" he made a melancholic pause, and again, his hand ghosted over your shoulder, his face close to yours "And noble ladies only run away with the knights in tales and songs"

>"I understand"

>Ser Criston's words left you with a strange feeling, he seemed sincere, did he know something you did not? Maybe you should wait before running, maybe you should find a better way to do it

>But you remained firm, and slipped out of bed once Aemond was asleep

>You went to the dragonpit, singing to the dragons, and hoping for Dagahrion to come back, if not, you'd have to leave on Tessarion

>You heard steps, thinking it was the dragonkeepers, you hid

>"Riñaaa~" you heard Aemond's voice, and you feared. You don't know if he would be capable of doing you harm, but you'd rather keep wondering

>His voice kept chasing you, in a mocking tone

>Until he finally found you

>You were a the center, and you felt the gazes of the dragons, but by far the fiercest one was Aemond's

>He pressed you against the wall, his sword unsheathed

>His body was pressed against yours, you felt him practically vibrating with wrath

>"I have wanted you for years, yet I held back, I was patient and devoted, and you run away at the first chance you get" he spat

>"I guess we had a rocky two-day marriage" if you were dying, you were doing it with your head high

>"I should have broke you, but I was a fool" it was all tension, you did not know if he would snap, or when would he, and kill you or gravely injure you

>He grabbed your face with his sword still pressing and threatening to break your skin

>He kissed you roughly, like he wanted to mark you as well as harm you, like he was tasting both heaven and steel

>When you were recovering your breath, you spoke "will you slay me?"

>"I will take you back and treat you like the backstabbing bastard cunt you are, the way I should always have" you knew this was probably the last time you will be like this, unbroken, whole

>You missed him back, tasting all the poison inside him, it was messy, rough, teeth crashing, you took him like he was your last breath. You were just saving courage

>All that could be heard was your labored breathing, Aemond's sword never moving. You felt an ache in your chest, you were scared. You wished for the mother, the celestial mother, the one that never left you, unlike every other woman you had though of as a mother. You wished for your father, although violent and rude, unpredictable and sour, he loved you with his whole heart, body and soul

>Maybe you were just going to make a fool of yourself, you hoped so, that Aemond would just laugh at you

>You took a breath of the second-hand air, smoky and anything but clean, and when your lungs were full, you screamed so loud your throat felt raspy

>"Dracarys!"

>Dragons obey their masters, and Dagahrion was not here, so it would work, supposedly

>The last thing you saw was the startled face of your husband when all the dragons around you spat scorching hot fire and burned both bodies

>Less than an hour later, prince Daeron found your remains. Some dragonkeepers said your voice commanded all the dragons to attack, others say that it was impossible, that it must have been Vhagar trying to kill you by Aemond's command, accidentally getting caught in-between

>The death of lady Y/N Targaryen, daughter of prince Daemon Targaryen, [allegedly] at hands of her own husband, Aemond Targaryen made the dance of dragons a conflict of fire and blood

[eludin]

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER TWO

WARNING: sexual content, addictions, incest (we're talking about Targaryens here) grooming, manipulations, dark themes, and possibly more

She trembled at the foot of the bed, and clearly had already been passed between several of her older friends. At least, he prayed that it was her friends who touched her in such a way. They would not be cruel and savage with her. He hoped they wouldn't.

Her hair was messed, no longer the smooth cascade of silvery strands, and some bite marks ran up along the length of her neck.

Ariston painfully swallowed the pit of anxiety. "Are you well, Vyera?"

She shrugged and rubbed her arms.

He closed the distance between them. Her eyes still bore into the creaky floorboards. He rested his hands on her shoulders, inciting a sharp jolt from Vyera. "We do not have "

"Aye, we do." She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. "My worth will be determined by how much I break-in, through all means. Especially with my... capabilities."

Ariston sighed. He did not comprehend much of the workings within the brothel, yet what she said made sense. Within the markets, if a product does not produce much, it will likely be dropped and abandoned to be replaced by a higher sale. As much as it pained him to make such a comparison, Vyera became a product for many cruel individuals to enjoy themselves.

If all of her friends could afford it, they could keep such individuals away from her. Yet... Something whispered doubts in his ear.

Commoners rarely made enough money to afford who sex workers, especially those who work within the Crimson Whores brothel. A vast majority of her companions were commoners. Those who were of a higher class could only spend so many coins on her. They all had duties regrettably to tend to, so they may bear enough coin to shower on her.

"Very well," he said. His heart banged against his stomach like a raging beast. "We can start "

"Now."

This time Ariston flinched.

Vyera grabbed his wrists and dragged him to the bed. He fell onto the bed and let her lead. Ariston was not aware of how the other boys did it, but he let her have control of this at the very least. She smiled at him.

She looked down at his clothes, a silent command. As he began to undress, she slid her dress off to pool at her feet.

Her hands wandered up his arms, along the width of his shoulders, and down his chest, inciting chills and warmth toiled in his stomach. Vyera crawled up the bed to straddle him. She loomed over him and pressed her lips against his.

Disgust looped around his throat like a noose. He could not be actually enjoying this.

Her lips molded around his, her tongue slithered in between and rubbed along his own. Ariston moaned.

Fuck. He was enjoying this.

He was a fucking... He did not even have the words to describe what he was. He was doing the exact thing he feared grown men would enjoy doing with her.

She was a kid, and he was enjoying feeling her hands explore his body the same way an artist would explore their canvas, her tongue massaging his mouth, and her smell... her taste.. her touch... the sounds she made...

Fuck.

Ariston lay dazed beneath her, his mind a fuddled mess.

Vyera nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, curling into herself. He reacted the same way all the other boys did: Half wanting, half repulsed with themselves. They pushed and pulled at her, some bit at her flesh before jerking back in shock with themselves.

She almost pitied them.

They were all young. Some were only thirteen while others were a few years older than that. They certainly had their fun with whores older than themselves, but never have they ever experienced the conflicting emotions warring within them in such intensity. In this, they were fumbling like virgins as she fiddled with them the same way she'd fiddle with a spare pawn in her hand while she played chess with one of her father's coworkers.

He had been... thirty if her memory still served well. She'd been seventeen when they'd met.

He was everything she found attractive in men that she couldn't find in the boys of her old world: Smart, handsome, and strong. He was skilled in his work and smart enough to humor her with their games. Of course, over time their games became less innocent. Her cunt clenched and tingled in recall of their time together.

Sure, he wasn't the only one. She never could settle for one. But regardless of that, he sent a thrill through her bones few could accomplish.

Vyera sighed and held Ariston closer. "Are you alright, Riz?"

"Huh?"

He blinked awake and focused on her. There it was again. The conflict in his eyes.

"You seem..." she hesitated, abusing her lip. His gaze flickered to them and he sharply inhaled. "Off. Did I do something wrong?"

"No! Certainly not, you were incredible Wait, no, I mean " Ariston tripped and stumbled over his words for a quick minute. A devilish grin wished to curl on Vyera's lip but she quickly suppressed it in favor of a more concerned expression. She worked on her reputation for nine years. She wasn't about to let one slip up to ruin everything. She laid back down and hid her face into his neck. They had a few more minutes before he had to leave.

He sighed, patting her head stiffly. "Tis' nothing."

Vyera nearly scoffed at that. As if she was going to believe that. However, she didn't wish to scare off one of her many useful associates. If her plans with her father fall through, she'll need more than one lord to arrange for her escape from the squander of this forsaken brothel. King's Landing smelled as bad as it was written, and her nose likely died in order to tolerate the odor.

If the world thought she was going to remain, they were sorely mistaken.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye," Ariston murmured. "Simply running through my thoughts."

More like running from them.

WANT TO BE TAGGED? COMMENT DOWN BELOW "AYE"

bloodyziggy

thenovelcarnival

sanya-prose

gpr2149

opheliaas-stuff

daughter-of-the-stars11

thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

hc-geralt-23

aemondsbabygirl

imsirius01

qyburnsghost

fulltacoparadise

mrs-sullys-blog

dudde-44

kimmib13

dornishannie

watercolorskyy

shaylouisesstuff

hiraethrhapsody

xcinnamonmalfoyx

[e1e4n0r5]

Twisted Love - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You always expected to marry your twin brother, Daeron. However, when this does not come to be, you find comfort with your siblings. As only Targaryens could. 

Okay, can't lie, I struggled with this chapter. I just wanted to bring Daeron back but logistically couldn't because of the necessary time jump. After all, it would have been very unlikely for Alicent & Otto to allow Daeron to come home the second Reader is no longer "available", so yes we have a time jump. Lovely family life for our foursome!

Warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, pregnancy, descriptions of childbirth, lactation kink, talk of postpartum bodies

As it turned out, perhaps you were meant for Aemond all along. Over the two years previous, Aemond had proven himself to be an excellent lover, whilst still able to maintain the public façade of being simply a loving brother to his younger sister. But from the moment the two of you first walked arm-in-arm through the corridors of the Red Keep, he excelled as a husband. He thrived on it, basking in it. Born to fulfil that role. The validation and approval he felt when he saw the courtiers looking at your matching rings satisfied him immensely. He practically preened whenever someone addressed either of you as ‘husband’ or ‘wife’. Your husband was glowing with pride, and you loved that for him.

Growing up, the middle Targaryen-Hightower sibling often felt excluded from the five of you. There was Aegon and Helaena, and you and Daeron. Where did that leave Aemond, he wondered all his life. He didn’t know that you had never intended for your second brother to be excluded; you would have taken him as a second husband in the very same ceremony in which you would have married Daeron. The five of you would never have been separated. You would never have allowed that to happen. Never.

But now he felt secure in his place, with you officially by his side and he by yours. Before your marriage, the two of you would spend time together, of course, you were siblings after all. But now, it was like Aemond wanted you with him constantly. He could barely stand to be apart from you. He even moved his training time to the first thing in the morning, at the very crack of dawn, because he knew you slept until mid-morning, and he wanted to be there when you woke. He didn’t want to miss a second with you. After he broke fast with you, you bathed together – he had to clean after his training, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to spend time with your handsome naked husband – then you would both spend time with family, typically Helaena and the children. You would ride your dragons together, walk through the gardens together, read in the library together. Every possible second he could spend by your side, Aemond did so.

But it didn’t madden you, because you understood the reason why: Aemond was happy.

At long last, Aemond Targaryen was finally happy.

After spending his entire childhood feeling isolated, being bullied by the Velaryon boys for not having a dragon, then having his eye carved out by Lucerys after claiming Vhagar, Aemond was finally happy with his life. He had a beautiful wife who loved him; two lovers in his other siblings; and finally approval from the courtiers – despite how much he might deny how important that last part was to him. You were well loved at court, and he was your husband; having an adored wife was always a bonus for a prince. After Rhaenyra’s long absences from court, her moniker had somehow been placed upon your head, and Aemond flourished in the knowledge that his wife was now the Realm’s Delight. It thrilled him.

So no-one was shocked when you announced your pregnancy within only a few months of being married. You lay with your husband almost every night and you never once drank Moon Tea. It was inevitable, and most welcome. Not entirely by your mother or grandsire. They both smiled for you and toasted your health, but you could tell they weren’t completely happy. Perhaps they had hoped that if no children occurred soon enough, that they could dissolve the marriage and use either you, Aemond, or both of you to secure alliances elsewhere in the Six Kingdoms. But your mother hugged you and wished you well, offering advice and support about pregnancy and what you could expect.

Helaena announced her pregnancy a fortnight after yours but told you when you were all together that night that she had conceived the same night as you – your wedding night. The four of you were all thrilled; you had everything you wanted. You were all together, and there were two babes on the way. Life was perfect.

But you did still miss Daeron. You were delightfully happy and content with your new life, but that didn't - couldn't – take away how much you still longed for your twin. When the midwife had confirmed your pregnancy and a kiss had been pressed to your cheek, a part of you had expected to turn your head and see Daeron beside you. You weren't disappointed that it was Aemond, but that part of you that had long desired to marry Daeron hadn't gone away.

And you knew Daeron felt the same. You wrote to your twin almost every day, even though ravens took almost a week to travel to Oldtown and another week to return. You and Daeron would just send your replies to each other paired with the original letter, that way you would always know which conversation you were replying to. But when you sent him your letter announcing your pregnancy, he didn't respond to it. He replied to others, with an undeniably stilted tone, but he never addressed your condition. He would ask if you were well and that he wished you good health, but he never directly acknowledged the babe in your belly. You knew it must have been hard for him, to hear of your marriage to another brother and know that you were carrying that other man's child, but it still hurt.

You could only hope that your mother and grandsire would finally allow Daeron to return home, now that they thought you weren't free to marry each other. Nothing to do, but wait for the final sibling to return home. It was just a question of how long that would take.

Aemond closed the door behind him as he returned from visiting Vhagar. He glanced around your rooms on his way inside.

“Abrazȳrys? (wife)” he called.

A sash suddenly came down over his head, pressing lightly against his throat. For a split second, Aemond panicked, but then he calmed as he assessed the situation. It was a silk sash, not a rope or chain. Whoever was behind him was significantly smaller than him, with breasts and a bumped stomach. An unlikely assassin. Then a familiar perfume filled his senses.

“You shouldn't play with fire, little one,” he purred. “We wouldn't want you getting burned,” he looked over his shoulder at you.

You smiled up at him, the ends of the sash in your hands. “I won't get burned, husband-”

“Then would you care to explain your actions? Sneaking up on a trained warrior, tying a rope around his neck... Something awful could have happened to you had I not recognised your delicious fragrance.” His voice was hard, reprimanding you.

You pouted. “I wanted to take charge tonight.”

That shocked Aemond. You had never once expressed a desire to be in charge in the bedroom, always so happy and willing to follow his lead in everything you did together. You didn’t even top with Aegon or Helaena – you were the most submissive sibling, always happy to submit to everyone. Aemond himself was the most dominant, never submitting to anyone. Aegon was mostly dominant, though he did enjoy certain submissive activities – he had even fully submitted to Aemond on several occasions. Helaena was flexible, though she was always dominant to you.

“What has provoked this new want of yours?”

You shrugged. “I don't know precisely. I just want to try it, see if I like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can fetch Aegon or Helaena-”

“No,” you protested. “I want it to be you.”

He turned slowly in your arms, the sash moving from his throat to the back of his neck. “I'm not suited to submission, Y/N.”

You frowned sadly. “You don't trust me.”

“I trust you with my very being, with all that I am.”

“…But?”

He pulled you close, pressing his hips to yours as best he could, given your lightly rounded pregnant belly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I take over, darling? You always receive such pleasure with me, do you not? You know I can give you anything you desire,” he ran the tip of his nose up your neck, pressing soft kisses as he went.

Your eyes fluttered closed, sighing softly. But you stopped. “No! No, I know what tricks you’re playing,” you protested.

Aemond sighed through his nose. “You won't be swayed?”

You shook your head.

“There is nothing I can offer, or promise, or provide you that will change your mind?”

Again, you shook your head.

“Very well then.” He stood up straight, clasping his arms behind his back. “Do you want to begin now?”

You grinned widely, nodding. “Yes!”

“Then I am yours.”

Hours later

You took control hours ago, and you had only climaxed once, Aemond not at all. You had started the two of you off slowly, asking Aemond for a long massage of your entire body. Your pregnancy was starting to send aches through your body as you grew to accommodate your baby, and you were getting sore most days. It was certainly no hardship for Aemond to lie you down, supporting your body with soft pillows atop your bed, and slowly, sensually, and thoroughly rub his hands across your body. He made a note to himself to do it for you more often; going by the sounds you made, your body definitely needed it.

He had soothed your body for an hour, leaving you floppy and relaxed on the bed. Afterwards, you took control back and had him get on his knees at the end of the bed. Again, not exactly a hardship for him. But it had been for you; your desire to be in control had made you direct him too much – ‘up a bit, harder, suck gently, faster’ – and rendered you unable to truly relax and enjoy your husband’s attention. When Aemond politely suggested that you relax and let him please you his way, given how he knew your body and knew precisely how to give the most pleasure, you had reprimanded him, thinking he was trying to take back control.

It was a long hour for the both of you before your legs had finally started to shake and your orgasm eventually arrived, not as satisfying as usual. You then ordered your husband onto his back on the bed, climbing over his hips and started to ride. Something you had done many times and that you both always enjoyed. But it wasn't going well.

Aemond looks up at you, pity rising inside him as he watches you grip the headboard over his head and try to maintain your rhythm. You’re tiring, quickly. He can read your face perfectly after years of experience; your head tilted forward indicates your fatigue from riding; the tiniest crease between your brows shows your frustration at not climaxing for so long; and the subtle tremor of your jaw tells him you’re close to tears.

He squeezes your hips softly. “Y/N,” he purrs your name, “stop, sweetheart-”

“No!” you snap. “I can-” you pause to pant, “I can keep going! I’m doing it! I’m in charge!”

He shakes his head. “Y/N, do you trust me?”

His random question makes you stop, your quivering thighs giving way and dropping your hips onto his. “What?”

“Do you trust me?” he repeats calmly, rubbing his hand over your tense thighs. He’ll need to massage them again later.

Your shaking arms drop down from the headboard, falling limply at your sides. “Yes,” you concede.

He knows you’ve given up, and that you’re upset about it. He knows you feel like a failure. “Come here, darling,” he urges you to lie down against his chest, holding you tightly. He gives you a minute to catch your breath, kissing your forehead every few seconds. When your breathing has slowed, he tightens his hold on you, slowly and carefully rolling the two of you over. With your body under his, you visibly relax, your drained body sinking into the soft mattress with a relieved sigh.

“You did so well, darling,” he praises, dotting kisses all over your cheeks and neck.

You’re too exhausted to shake your head. “It was awful! I could have done-”

“It was your first attempt at domination, Y/N. You can always try again.”

“With Aegon or Helaena,” you giggle.

He smiles down at you. “That would be best. I’d be happy to instruct you, if that was what you wanted?”

You shake your head. “I actually didn’t enjoy it that much. It made my mind too busy; I couldn’t focus on enjoying myself. How do you do it? How do you make it seem like you’re focusing on me completely, and still be able to find your own pleasure?”

He slips his fingers into your hair, rubbing your scalp gently. Your eyes close as you release a low moan. “Because for me, receiving your submission and giving you pleasure is what gives me pleasure. Having you suck my cock is pleasurable, but it’s your submission in the act that is most satisfying for me. Your cunt is a joy to fuck, but it’s the trust you place in me as I do that fulfils me. Do you understand, darling?”

You nod. “I think so?”

He kisses your lips. “Good. Do you want to continue, or should we let you rest?”

“I want you to finish,” you answer, surprising him.

“Not yourself as well?”

You shrug. “I think I’m too tired.”

He smirks. “Well, that is a challenge if ever I knew one. Let’s see what we can do for you, shall we?”

And he did not disappoint. He started slow, letting your body adjust to him again through your fatigue. It was the most pleasure you’d experienced all evening. He held you close, kissing you deeply, knowing just what rhythm to keep by how you moved under him, the sounds you made, the way you begged him for more. It was well into the night when you finally used your safe word, tapping his shoulder three times with a mumbled 'bantazma' (long night), indicating to Aemond that perhaps eight orgasms was sufficient for the evening.

He made you do fifteen the following night.

Your pregnancy went perfectly, everyone said you handled it wonderfully. Like a true Princess, many courtiers had complimented. Helaena gave birth only a few days before you, to a beautiful healthy son. They had yet to announce a name for their third child, and you suspected she and Aegon were waiting for you to give birth yourself. Your sister had mentioned a few times that she thought it would be nice for your children to have similar names, given that they were conceived on the same night. If the Maesters and midwives were to be believed, your labours would begin any day.

And it was. You started having pains in the late hours, Aemond staying up all night to rub your back and tummy for you as you tried to get some rest. By day break, your waters had broken and your pains increased. The Maesters tried to make Aemond leave the room, but he just stared them down.

"The birthing room is not a fit place for a man, your Highness."

"And how do you plan on removing me from my wife as she births our child?" he snapped coldly, even as he rubbed your hips whilst you clung to him during a contraction.

"He stays," you insisted through gritted teeth. “If you take him from me, our dragons will feed well tomorrow.”

Helaena and your mother came in from time to time, giving Aemond brief respites, but he was never gone long. Aegon stayed with the children and nannies, keeping himself occupied and out the way. Whilst he did want to see you, it wasn't permitted – after all, to everyone else, he was merely your brother, nothing more. To have him, a man who wasn’t your husband or a Maester, in the room would have caused scandal and rumour. Aemond assured him whenever he left the room that you were doing well and the Maesters had absolutely no concerns about you or the child. They anticipated an easy birth for you both.

And they were correct. It was agony, but all went well. You insisted on pushing completely naked, standing in front of the window, looking out over the city. The sun was high in the sky and bathed your skin with its heat. It soothed your Targaryen blood, and you felt peace as you pushed, despite the pain. Aemond stood by your side, holding you upright as the midwife guided your efforts. With a long and low groan, your child was born just after midday. A son was placed in your arms, crying his lungs out until he rested his ear against your chest. Aemond held you tightly as you wept with joy, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as a tear slipped down his own cheek.

The midwives cleaned you up and got you back into bed, your mother the Queen waiting patiently outside to be let in. She, Aegon, and Helaena carrying her new-born son, all entered when you called them in, large smiles all around.

“Well done, my darling,” your mother praised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “A healthy son?”

You smiled down at your sleeping babe. “He’s perfect.”

“Have you got a name?” Aegon asked, standing next to Aemond and giving him a congratulatory pat on the back.

Aemond looked at you, and you gave him a happy nod. He lifted his head proudly. “We've called him Maenor.”

Aegon raised his eyebrows. “There's never been a Maenor before.”

“First of His Name,” you agreed. You looked at Helaena and her baby. “Have you finally got a name for your son, sister?”

She came and sat next to you on the bed. “We waited for you. This is Maelor.”

Aemond looked at Aegon, “First of His Name?”

Aegon nodded proudly. “Great minds think alike, brother.”

“Maelor and Maenor?” Alicent blinked a few times but smiled at both her daughters. “They're both beautiful boys, with strong names. Though it may take some time to...Remember.”

You smiled at your obviously tense mother. “Just remember that both Helaena and Maelor have Ls in their names, and me and my son don't.”

She nodded. “Very helpful, daughter, thank you.”

Motherhood came naturally to you. Of course you had nannies and a wet nurse to care for your son during the nights, but you wouldn't be removed from him after you woke. You even followed in Helaena’s footsteps and shocked the court by feeding Maenor from your own breast. It was almost completely unheard of that a high-born lady would nurse their children – your own mother certainly hadn't – but you loved the bond it created between the two of you. It was hard at first, even painful at times, but it was worth it to you.

Your brothers and sister had no complaints either. After the Maester and midwife had cleared you and Helaena to resume ‘marital relations’, the four of you had almost fallen over each other to get back to Aegon’s and Helaena’s rooms. And the first thing the three of them did was strip you naked, lay you down and worship your breasts. You, Aegon, and Aemond had all sampled Helaena’s milk from having the twins; and now the three of them wanted to try yours.

Aemond had already had a taste when you nervously indulged his interest one night, so he settled his head between your legs whilst your siblings kissed and licked and sucked gently on your breasts. He had sorely missed this most intimate part of you since your birth, and he was aching to get reacquainted. He kissed and licked and sucked gently, bringing you to a soft and peaceful climax for your first time after having a baby, and you almost cried with your release.

Then it was Helaena’s turn, receiving the same treatment from the three of you; her husband between her legs and her siblings at her breasts. She had a few more lines on her tummy than you, and you made sure to kiss every single one.

Life had moved on with your growing family, now a family of four with a daughter following your son. Maenor was now four, and your beautiful, sweet Aena was nine moons. You didn’t know where the time had gone, life and time were odd concepts. Helaena hadn’t had another child after their son born only one week before Maenor, but she and Aegon had said she was going to stop taking Moon Tea soon. Knowing how easily she had fallen pregnant with the twins and their son Maelor, Helaena would be pregnant before her next moon’s blood.

The four of you were all passing an afternoon together, surrounded by your growing brood of children, when a page was let into the large sitting room. He headed for you as you were closest to the door, pouring yourself a cup of tea from the sideboard near the door. Helaena was sat on a sofa with Aena in her lap and her daughter Jaehaera at her side, showing the older child illustrations of insects from a book; Aena was asleep in her arms, still needing several naps a day. Aegon and Aemond were on the floor rough-housing with Jaehaerys, Maelor, and Maenor.

The page presented a scroll on a silver platter to you, a polite nod of his head with a quiet ‘princess’. You smiled and gave a thanks as you opened the scroll, your smile widening when you saw Daeron’s seal. You unfurled the scroll, your eyes moving left to right as you read the carefully penned words. Your eyes welled up.

Aemond saw you from his spot on the floor, even as he dangled Maenor over his shoulder whilst the little boy screeched with laughter. “What is it, issa jorrāelagon (my love)?”

You looked up at him, joyful tears trickling down your cheeks. “Daeron’s coming home.”

And Aemond’s heart sank.

@watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @aemondsdelight @thelittleswanao3 @misspascalpunk

[sweetlittlepotato19]

Daeron Targaryen imagine. Part I. ‌(this is a small sketch with cute prince Daeron :> I have no headcanon experience, so sorry. English is not my native language.)

•You are a girl from a noble rich family who wants to marry you off to an old (veeeeeeery old) lord.‌

•Because of this, you decided to run away from your home.

•Since childhood, you have been fascinated by books, not dancing or embroidery. You often spoke with your maester, who was wise and kind to you. ‌

•So you decided to pretend to be a boy and run away to the Citadel.‌ You packed your things, cut off your hair and hit the road at night.

•Surprisingly, your path was almost without danger. ‌

•Congratulations, now you are a novice of Citadel!‌

•You began your studies enjoying the fact that you can finally make independent decisions in your life.‌

•One day outside the tavern you get into a fight with drunken men with whom you can hardly defeat because of the fragile physique and dwarf muscles.‌

•But you are rescued by a tall young man dressed in a dark cloak. Light strands of hair seem to be visible from under the hood.‌

•He turns to you and you can finally take him into account a little. And he is handsome. Pale skin covered with freckles, large lavender eyes, heart shaped lips, neat nose. You involuntarily begin to stare at the pretty boy, and your heart beat faster. ‌

•"Are you okay?"- the stranger asks politely. His voice is soft and reminds you of honey.‌

•Your face blushes because of the attention of a handsome guy turned to you. Pulling yourself together, you thank him for his help and assure you that everything is fine. Then head back to the Citadel.‌

•Prince Daeron Targaryen looks at the departing man in confusion. Why do you seem so cute to him? Why is he drawn to a stranger?

[biblioklept-writes]

Secrets and Lies - II

Mafia!Targaryens | Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader

Summary: Daemon Targaryen's family discovers that anger is not a good look on you as you get your first taste of revenge - the fruit so sweet you might just be addicted to it.

Word Count: +12k

Warnings: Allusions to gore, mentions of sexual assault, human trafficking and children in brothels, canon typical violence but make it ✨modern✨, reader goes feral-literally, reader and the green kids working as a team. (if you feel anything else should be here, then do let me know)

A/N: Raw work alert! this is not proofread, and way worse than the first part. I'll read it over and correct any mistakes when I encounter them, but any comment will be useful. Let me know what you think about this in the ask box!

This story will have one more, final part. Until then, you can find my other House of the Dragon works here.

You didn’t feel like going to class for that entire week. Calvin helped you with the classwork, and you were well caught up with your studies, but making that effort to leave the apartment complex was just too much for you to stomach. You even had Aemond turn in your digital electronics assignment for you, unable to gather yourself enough to leave. You would spend time with Alicent, standing behind her like a bouncer ready to throw hands at the slightest bit of danger, then you’d spend your afternoon with little Daeron, teaching him everything you knew about hacking, getting him a Linux to develop thievery bugs. You even helped him on his school assignments, not wanting to be left alone with your thoughts.

In the evening, you would go to Aemond and sit quietly in his study, catching up on the classwork as he did his reading. Even though you weren’t conversing, his presence beside you and the warm silence helped your brain refocus.

When you weren’t busy with any of the siblings, you would cover yourself up and take Coco up to the terrace and play with him, for the German shepherd was your best friend and was catching onto your fowl mood.

But today, on a fresh new Monday you are dressed magnificently in a black denim skirt and a lace black bustier top and a pair of heeled leather boots. You had opted with an all black aesthetic - even your makeup is intense with dark lined eyes and a black choker on your neck. Dressing up well always made you more confident, and you were filled with mad confidence and anger - unable to release all of that even with the week’s worth of harsh training with Criston Cole and the other guards.

I want to break something, you think. Pray no one crosses me today.

The day is as usual, you sit in class, go to the malware detection lab and work on your project. Per usual, you go out during the lunch hour and walk to the cafeteria where you find Aemond, Helaena and Aegon - and it is a rare sight, but one you quite enjoy. Aemond offers to carry your lunch for you, considering you were carrying your laptop case along with your bag.

The three siblings walk to the outside ground to sit in the sun, while you linger back a moment to speak with Sera, the only other girl in your class. She asks for your wellbeing, having learned from Aemond that you had been sick. You politely tell her that you are okay now and thank her for her concern.

It is on your way to the ground that you are irked by a sudden whistle, spotting a group of juniors - this one lead by Rawdon Bolton, the vile smirk on his face and the giggles of his mates making you angrier than you were.

“Why hello there,” He says walking over, voice laced with vice disguised as mirth. “You’re a foxy little lass today, aren’t you?”

You stand there, silently glaring at him, but Rawdon is not deterred. The bastard is too sure of himself, sure that he has easy prey, his pack of hyenas snicker at you.

“It’s a bit odd to see such a lass alone by herself,” Rawdon smirks. “Maybe you could use some pleasant company.” He reaches forward and touches your arm, the touch of his soft, sheltered hands disgusting. You are quick to react to his filthy touch and push him down - he is now laying on the floor with your boot resting on his chest and you glower down at him.

“You didn’t need to do this to get me to lay down baby,” he laughs, icy eyes dark. “Although, I do quite enjoy this view,” he raises his arm in a deliberate motion, soft cold hand coming to rest on the exposed skin just above your knee.

Your blood boils at his lewd words and touch, body acting off its own accord as you grab the hand that lays on your thigh and twist it in the opposite direction until you hear him scream at you to stop, call you crazy, tell you his daddy will have your head, and ultimately a loud snap followed by Rawdon Bolton’s cries of pain.

His elbow is bent at an awkward angle as you step off his chest and pick your laptop case back up and dust yourself, not bothering to look back as you strut away, to the Targaryen siblings.

The three siblings watch you in awe, pride filled in their purple-violet gazes. “That was the shit!” Aegon chuckled, and Helaena nodded in agreement.

“Our feisty girl is back!” Helaena declares, and the four of you sit down to eat the food. You are not too hungry now, but a sadistic satisfaction warms your heart as the whispers around you grow louder, filling you with the good gossip about Rawdon Bolton’s nearly broken arm.

“If you didn’t break his arm, I would have.” Aemond says, but he has a rare, proud smile on his face. You grin sheepishly, and then sit down by the steps.

“Well, that was the entertainment, but now it’s time for food,” Aegon declared, unceremoniously dropping his arse beside you. “Well?” He pointedly looked at Helaena and Aemond, who sat on the steps below you and opened their food.

The day passes quietly enough after that - people moving out of your way when your imposing figure walks by them. You enjoy this - the power that you gave yourself. 

“Girl what the fuck am I hearing about you?” Calvin asks the moment you enter class.

“Well, he came to me first,” you shrug. “What was I to do?”

Calvin gives you an incredulous look, his mouth agape. “You do realise exactly who you messed with?” He looks ahead and shakes his light brown head. His warm brown eyes are wide in alarm. “He’s the heir of one of the more powerful families in Westeros, you’re messing with the Mafia here!”

“And I am friends with the Targaryens,” you say, looking up at him through your brow. “I literally don’t give a shit about the Boltons.”

“Yeah, right.” Calvin rolled his eyes. “And I am the mafia queen,”

“My Range Rover didn’t come out of thin air,” you snap at him, irritated. “Calvin, this has nothing to do with you, why are you worried?”

“You have a Range Rover?” Calvin’s eyes are threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

“Are you fucking blind or what?” You say incredulously. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“I… think so?” He says, blinking absently. “I smoked weed last night but other than that I don’t know.”

“That actually explains a lot.” You sigh, anger deflating.

“I’d be worried if I were you,” He said, taking out his laptop.

“Hmm,” you murmur. They should be worried about me, you thought.

.

You’re currently in the Director’s office, who looks downright terrified of the woman sitting beside you. You had no surname, leaving the KLU admin to believe that you could be scared, but one word to Alicent and she left her husband’s side to storm in and speak some words to him. 

“Well, Professor, it is a problem that you are accusing her of being violent when you didn’t question the Bolton boy’s inappropriate behaviour with other women.” Alicent says. “It doesn’t leave a good impression of you. She is the only one who bothered to respond. I will not have this abuse of power by a family of human traffickers.”

“I didn’t know, ma’am,” the Director starts.

“You didn’t know about Rawdon Bolton’s inappropriate behaviour towards other students or did you not know that this girl would have connections with me?” Alicent says. “Either way, I am letting this slide only this one time. If I hear one more complaint about young Mr. Bolton going unanswered, I will have your head. Am I clear, Professor Quent sir?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, even though his clenched jaw twitches.

“Good,” Alicent smiles. Then, calling your name, she waits for you to leave the room before following you out. “That was a little reckless of you, my dear.”

“I know,” You sigh, not regretting your action, rather being upset at making Alicent come over. “I couldn’t really help myself when he was touching my thigh,”

“My sweet girl,” Alicent says, holding your hand delicately, “I am so proud of you for breaking his elbow. Just keep in mind that next time, no one sees you doing it.”

“Okay,” You nod, storing that advice in your head.

.

You keep that advice in mind as you learn to creep around, hacking into the security systems of the “abandoned warehouses” all over the city of King’s Landing. Daeron helps you whenever he can, finding his purpose amongst the numbers of your Linux and the viruses you can build.

You are keeping all of your friends in the loop - as much as you want to, you know you cannot bring down an entire family without help. Aemond’s obsession with history combined with his electrical engineering degree gives him curious ideas about different torture devices, more than glad to let you experiment on potential targets. Aegon with his deep knowledge of toxicology gives you the poisons for your pins - the kinds that destroy the pin and the target once hitting the skin, untraceable by common post-mortem tests, or the kinds that render the target unconscious for long periods of time. You’ve only tested the second kind as of yet - only immobilising the guards that threatened your presence. 

Helaena is your rescue darling, her kind face is enough to lure the young children into the truck, driving away to a safehouse until their homes can be tracked.

It all began with Rawdon Bolton’s filthy hand on you - you guessed you could thank him for being a filthy beast, but you like to think it was Alicent’s advice to remain unseen that really kicked into action. 

You’ve spied on all the big families by the time your semester comes to an end - learning that the Starks are leaning to support Rhaenyra once old Viserys finally dies. The Lannisters would support Aegon, and the Baratheons were leaning towards Aegon too. But this little council of you and your friends had other plans, plans that you had been working on for more than a while. The documents were ready, and now you only need the signatures of two people forged well enough to fool the attorney.

With Viserys’ declining health and your rather…stauch reaction to Daemon, Alicent had not extended any further invitation to Rhaenyra’s family, even as her heart begged for a semblance of their old friendship. But some ties were better left broken.

Aemond, by extension grew even more resentful of Daemon, Rhaenyra and the Strong Boys, all of them being favoured by Viserys and being let off their crimes unpunished and without reproach.

It is one of the more rare quiet nights since you have taken on the mission to destroy the Boltons step by step, and you are in the quiet of Aemond’s room, illuminated by the reading light on at his desk. The dim light of the room feels like home, and you are laying in his bed, the smell of limes and new books covering you, cocooning you in a safe haven. Aemond is presently brushing his teeth before he lays for his nightly reading, the running water and the rapid opening and closing of boxes signalling the end of his nighttime routine for his skin and hair.

The tap turns off and he steps out of the bathroom, patting his face dry with a fluffy towel, smiling as he spots you laying on his bed. “Well, hello darlin,” he says, putting away the towel in a hanger. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Nothing,” you say, turning away from him to bury your nose in his pillow. He has the finest silk pillowcases - good for his hair, he claims - and you know that he spends the same time worrying about the texture of his hair just as he cares for Vhagar. You don’t think it’s fair for him to have such healthy, soft hair. “Can’t I be here just because I want to?”

“Well,” he says, sitting at his desk and picking up his book. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“See, I knew you were a smart man.” You say. “Come here,” you pat the spot beside you on his bed, and he rolls his eye with a chuckle, yes ma'am.

“What do you want me to read to you?” He asks, the warmth of his body now beside you. He smells of limes, leather and the new book that he holds. 

“Whatever you want to,” you smile, sinking further into the pillow.

He starts reading about Old Valyria and how the first legends came into being. His voice is firm and soothing - you stop hearing his words and getting lost in the smooth tone of his voice. You've already got your arm thrown over him, across his hips and burying yourself in his side by the time you realise what you're doing. You think of pulling away, but he drops his arm on you, holding you close. 

You look up when you stop hearing his voice, only to find him staring intently at you. His one lilac eye is dark and full of emotions you have never experienced. You have lost all your vocabulary, and your words are stuck in your throat, not daring to come out. “Aemond,” You say, staring into his intense gaze. The sapphire in his eye gleams wickedly in the dim lighting of his room. His shoulders are warm under your hands, and you are leaning to his pouty mouth, the heat of his body making you forget your words. 

“What is it, my darling?” His smooth voice distracts you for long enough to remember your words.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. His large hands are on your face, and you melt into their warm, falling into his lap. "Kiss me until the only thing i know is you,"

Aemond's lips are on yours in an instant, devouring you like a man starved. A fire is ignited in your veins, fingers clutching at his black dress shirt. His familiar scent of leather and limes envelopes you, and his mouth feels like home, moulding against yours perfectly. His hands glide down from your face to the base of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His body is tense, and he is holding back for your sake so your hands go to his silver hair and tug down the hair tie, letting his soft hair fall free and tangle your fingers in those strands until all your senses are full of him and him only. He is on your skin, on your tongue - you can hear him inhale sharply and you can see his one eye closed in pleasure - his lovely scent of leather and limes is so strong you can taste it.

“My beautiful darling,” He breathes against your lips, hands still resting on the base of your neck. “I wish I had both of my eyes so I could see you the way everyone else does,”

“It doesn't matter what everyone else sees,” you whisper against his puckered lips. “I only care about what you see,”

“Perfection.” Kiss. “You're intelligent,” Kiss. “Smart, so smart and so strong,” Kiss. “So pretty and so good to me,” This time, his Kiss lingers, filled with emotions that words couldnt convey. “Owner of my heart… and soul, if I have one.”

“Oh, my love,” you take his face in your hands and plant little kisses all over his face, stroking his sharp jaw. “I have always been yours,”

“Mhm,” he hums, planting another kiss on your forehead. You try to resist the urge of rubbing yourself on him, but your will breaks once his warm hands are on your cold arms - you lean against his chest and deeply inhale his comforting scent, rubbing your cheek against his warm neck to get comfortable. His muscles are firm under your touch, and you know the training does him wonders - his clothes and lean frame are very deceptive, you’ve discovered.

.

Everything was going according to the plan - all your documents were ready, you just had to get to Viserys’ room. Daeron took the nurse out for a long moment while you and Helaena sneaked into the room. And presently you found yourself waiting for Viserys to gain a semblance of consciousness with the drug Aegon had handed you.

You quickly step away from Viserys’ line of sight, trying not to chuckle at the odd look of Helaena pretending to be Rhaenyra. The older woman’s style is going to be a big no for your friend - and everyone agrees to that. Helaena is a gentle person, but she couldn’t be a Targaryen without a deceptive bone in her body, and she presently she utilises her skills of mimicry, and the delirious Viserys believes Helaena to be his only child, Rhaenyra - and messily signs each paper that you hand him, not even bothering to ask what the document says.

“Be happy, my child.” Viserys says as the effect of the drug starts wearing off.

“I will be now, father,” Helaena says, surprisingly good at pretending to be Rhaenyra. You leave as quietly as you had entered and went to your little experiment lab to splice the monitor footage to Viserys’ power of attorney who was surprisingly a supporter to Aegon’s claim as the heir and wouldn’t hesitate to claim your words to be true. Aegon had already spoken with Jasper Wylde, and he had already shared the footage you needed for the splicing.

You sit in front of your computer, eyes glued to the screen, acutely aware of eager Daeron sitting beside you. His soft lilac eyes are wide and focused on the screen and you, watching you edit the footage of Jasper Wylde to adjust the lighting according to Viserys’ room. You remove yourself from the footage and overlay Wylde instead, leaving Helaena sitting on the old man’s bedside. You had Aemond and Criston watch through the entire footage to ensure it was seamless, watching it over and over again to reassure yourself that nothing seems out of the place. You modify the storage drive a little and around five hours later… voila!

“I didn’t realise it would be this fast!” Daeron says, seemingly blinking for the first time in hours. “And it looks perfect!”

“It took us five hours, my man.” you say, leaning back in your chair and stretching out your now stiff arms and back. “It’s not efficient enough - we need a lot more practice.”

“Considering it was half an hour worth of footage, I think you’re doing great.” Daeron says. “I have a lot to learn from you still, sweet sister.”

“And you shall learn,” you say, ruffling his blond head. You can’t remember, but you do think you had a little brother back when you were six. Somehow seeing a ten year old ball of sunshine and energy made your young teen mind remember - that, or your mind built this false memory to explain the attachment to little Daeron. He was a child prodigy and an overachiever much like his long-haired elder brother, but he still had a year and a couple of months left of high school. Yet, to your mind and heart, he was still the little boy who brought joy to you in your worst time, even as he has grown to be taller than you.

“You’re deceptively smart,” he notes. “It’s a good thing you’re scary to look at.”

“Do you think I'm scary, young man?” you ask, raising your brow.

“Only when you’re mad.” He says, blinking innocently. “You’re great at hiding your emotions behind a dull expression, it’s scary how convincing that is.”

“Hmm,” you acknowledge, not bothering to utter the reason. Aemond comes to fetch you a while later, and you leave Daeron as he was going through Rhaenyra’s apartment security footage. You gather the copies of the documents and leave with Aemond and the dogs to hand them over to Wylde.

Coco and Vhagar are fighting amongst themselves in the backseat of his Rolls Royce, scratching up the expensive leather, but neither of you care. You sit back in your place as the passenger princess, head against the glass of the window and eyes on the beautiful man driving you to your destination. His long silver hair is tied in a long, loose braid, and you wish to pull the hair tie open. 

You reach your destination without drawing much attention and Aemond hands over the documents to Jasper Wylde in a room only having them two - you wait in the car with Vhagar and Coco, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

Soon, you get to an expensive cafe and spot a few paparazzi following Aemond around, clicking pictures of the two of you. He holds your hand and stays on the side of the cameras, shielding you from the attention neither of you want or need. You grab a little meal and your coffees with puppuccino for the dogs. They happily yap away the unsweetened whipped cream you hold for them, then Aemond proceeds to act like a total gentleman and open the door for you and help you in, earning a glimpse of your beautiful smile. He glares at the reporters recording you and then swiftly drives away to the park, where you spend the evening with your dogs playing as you finish your coffees and the pasties.

It’s only dusk when Aemond has to leave for a moment, he has a call he cannot ignore. You hold both Coco and Vhagar’s leash, absently walking the park full of people and their pets. It isn’t until Vhagar growls that you pay attention to the young man of dark hair and a rather plain stature in front of you. You’ve seen him a few times before, and the resemblance he holds to his brother is uncanny.

Lucerys Velaryon stands in front of you with his young bloodhound, Arrax, a slight smirk on his face and one hand stuffed in his pocket. You give him your best dead eyes and walk away, having to force Vhagar to walk. You know she is angry at Lucerys, she always is whenever he is over. But she obeys to you, reluctantly.

“You should realise that my uncles and aunt are not Targaryen heirs,” Lucerys says the moment you take your first step away from him. “Aemond is certainly not of any use to you if it is power and money that you are looking for.”

“I have no words to say to you,” You say, trying to walk away again. Vhagar is growing impatient at his voice, her nerves rubbing off on Coco as well as your German Shepherd begins a low growl at Lucerys. Vhagar tugs hard on her leash, and your hand strains to hold her back - greyhounds are one of the fastest dogs, and her limbs are tense, ready to pounce on her target.

“I am just saying that you’ll have more to gain by staying on our side than theirs.” He shrugs. “My mother and step-father will reward you generously.”

At the mention of his stepfather, you grit your teeth, whilst still struggling to hold back Vhagar with one hand. In a moment of weakness, she breaks free of your grip and pounces towards the young man, her jaw wide open, ready to snap. Lucerys barely has any time to react before her jaw snaps, only managing to nip at his little finger before you manage to get a hold of her leash back. “Vhagar, NO!” you scream. She stops, but is still growling at Lucerys, who looks at the greyhound with terror.

He holds his bleeding finger against his chest, the bite not being deep enough to take his finger off. Considering the force of Vhagar’s bite, Lucerys is very fortunate to have gotten off this easy. “Filthy beast bit me!” he accuses.

“You should be glad I held her back in time, boy,” You say through a clenched jaw. “If I hadn’t, she’d have bitten your hand off. Hounds don’t forget people that harm their humans, you should know that.”

“Bitch,” he swears at you before walking away, shaking his hand.

You force yourself to take a few deep breaths and calm down, then walk the dogs again as Aemond jogs up to you to catch up. He takes Vhagar from you and wraps his free hands around your waist, pulling you close and planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “You seem tense, darling.”

“Vhagar was not happy to see your nephew,” You say. “Can’t really blame her though, neither was I. Lucerys Velaryon is not a sight for me.”

“And did something happen?” He asks, hand squeezing your side tighter.

“Vhagar tried to bite his hand off, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” You shrug.

“You shouldn’t bite people unless you are in danger, Vhagar,” Aemond playfully chides her, and she whimpers in response, rubbing herself against his leg. “I know you are mad at him, but you’ll have your time my sweet girl.”

The next morning and the mornings after that, you and Aemond are all over the Page Six news - with the photos from the cafe and a few from the park, and you’re suddenly very uncomfortable. You hadn’t noticed any paparazzi in and around the park, and the thought that someone had been monitoring your movement sends chills down your spine. 

“They’re calling you a mystery woman,” Aegon chuckles at breakfast a few days later. “Find out all about the mystery woman with one of the most eligible bachelors in King’s Landing, the headline says, which is not true, considering I am still single.”

“It’s too early for this, Aegon,” you groan. “They’re just gossiping, it’s like their job.”

“Honey, it is their job,” He corrects you. “Although, you two do look cute together. Since when did you become so handsome, Aemond?”

“The moment I decided to speak with my darling,” Aemond answers with a rare smile on his face.

“Holy demons from the seven hells!” Aegon curses, “Who are you and where have you taken my baby brother?!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Helaena speaks up. “Literally no one cares,” she looks at you and then at Aemond with a little smirk. “You two are really cute though. I’d say you keep charms to ward off evil eyes. Too much negative energy and people these days. I like the change she brings in you, Aemond.” She adds, and your face heats up. You love these people so much, you wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Your phone rang, and seeing a video call from Daeron you grinned. "What is it, young man?" You say once his silver head comes on the screen.

"I know you are all gossiping away without me," He whines. "Hi, my brothers and sister,"

"Don't you have classes to attend?" Aegon asks, coming up behind you. "This is very insincere of you, Daeron,"

"You're one to talk," Aemond chuckles. "It's probably his break time."

You look at your little family and smile, leaning into Aemonds warm body beside you, resting your head on his shoulder. Come the night, you will be a different person - and you cannot wait to be one with the shadows once again, to have a taste of revenge. 

The night did not get a chance to come - sick, old Viserys decided to leave the realm of the living that evening, and the word spread quickly. Rhaenyra and her family arrive - and you note that the only ones with moist eyes are Alicent and Rhaenyra. It does not come to you as a shock - Daemon Targaryen’s absence - for he has never shown emotions other than lust or fury. Perhaps some say he shows love for his wife, but he does not even utter a word of respect to the one he owes everything to.

It does surprise you that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey do not shed tears for their grandsire - as horrible as Viserys was, he did care for his grandchildren even more so than he cared about his own as you knew. They are dressed in a dark maroon, and not black or white as the customs rule. The three of them are seemingly enjoying themselves, gossiping away while throwing glances at you and your friends, all of you dressed up in fine black clothes. A light champagne is served to the few guests present - mostly people from Viserys’ council. 

Jasper Wylde nods at Aegon and Aemond not paying the rest of you any attention. He stands in the front of the room, beside Viserys’ casket and clinks his glass. “Viserys Targaryen, our stern, kind boss has unfortunately left us on this sad day.” He begins, voice deep but loud. “And I cannot disrespect Boss by delaying the reading of his will any further. A few days ago, Viserys had awakened for a short while and had me come to meet him,” he says, silencing everyone in the room with his words. “And he had me draft a new will for him, the will that I am going to read out to you now.”

“I, Viserys Targaryen, the first of my name, am leaving my business accounts, responsibilities and by extension the buildings of the Red Keep and the handlings in Westeros in my wife, Alicent Hightower’s hands.” A sudden, collective gasp took over everyone present, and you forced your face to a mask of mild surprise - as did Aemond. Aegon played his part of the clown well, with wide eyes and an incredulous grin. Helaena acts ignorant as she usually is, unbothered by everything. Daeron watches with big, curious eyes, seemingly inhaling every word uttered.

“To my eldest daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, I leave Dragonstone and StygianMarble.” Wylde reads. “Further, I leave Alicent Hightower the freedom to choose her heir per her wishes.”

“This is a lie!” Rhaenyra screams, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “My father would never do this.” She storms to Jasper Wylde and snatches the documents from his hands, violet eyes raking over the paper, turning pages furiously seeing Viserys' messy scrawl of a signature. The horror on her face only intensified on seeing the signed papers. “This is not real.” She exhales a shaky breath.

“I’m afraid not,” Jasper Wylde says. “This was his will, and I shall not disrespect him by listening to your vile accusations.”

“My father would never do this,” Rhaenyra says. You look away from her dishevelled state - she had given birth a few weeks prior, a healthy boy she had named Aegon III Targaryen. And you look over a wide eyed shocked Alicent, who stands beside her equally shocked but more composed father.

“I think he prevented a war from breaking out,” Tyland Lannister says. “Whether people support your claim or Aegon’s - they will all listen to Boss. It's time we have an experienced Mafia Queen.” The last comment is directed at Rhaenyra - the accusation is true but did not elicit a reaction.

“Look at her!” Rhaenyra says, pointing to Alicent. “She didn't even know my father left that in her will.”

“That is because it was between him and me only,” Wylder says.

With the corner of your vision, you notice Steffon Darklyn, one of Rhaenyra’s most trusted bodyguards reaching for the hilt of his hunting knife and you don't have to guess for it to be aimed at Alicent. With quiet steps you blend into the shadows, seeking out their company once again as you swiftly make your way towards Alicent’s shadow. They once again prove to be your trusty companions, and Steffon doesn't notice you and freely approaches the new boss with his arm raised slightly.

Like a shadow demon, you extend your hand and grab him by the wrist with a vice-like grip. You glare at him with the stare of death and he is half startled into submission and he drops the knife, the blade hitting the white marble floor with a loud clang, caught red handed in the act of trying to attack the new boss. You press your lips together, glaring at him in disapproval. “It's not kind to attack a grieving woman at her husband’s funeral.” You quietly say. “Much less in her own house.”

“She’s stealing what is rightfully my Boss', and I will not idly stand by and watch. She is a thief and she’ll get what she deserves” He says through gritted teeth. His free arm grabs for you, almost bruising on your shoulder. “And you are no one to speak to me like that little girl. Let me go.”

When you don't, Steffon twists the wrist in your grip, trying to break free as the bruising grip on your shoulder loosens, the action too quick for you to react. A harsh punch lands on your jaw, and you kick him in the knee, more out of reflex than thought of action. You're not phased too much, honestly you had much worse than that before. Your eyes tear up in response to the pain, but his reaction is much worse - the older man falls to one knee and grabs his injured one, yelping in pain. "Bitch!" He grunts.

"Darklyn!" Rhaenyra yells, angry eyes set on you. "Why would you do that!?"

You don't say anything, just glare daggers at the silver haired woman, eyes asking more questions than your mouth ever could. "I didn't know you wore glasses," you finally say when Alicent gently nudges you, finally over her shock. You massage your throbbing jaw and crack the joints of your neck, wiping away the spit that had fallen at the punch's impact. 

Aemond is quick to be at your side and his siblings follow closely, Aegon and Helaena standing on Alicent's side and Aemond and Daeron on yours. "Be careful of the words that leave you next." Aemond warns, voice dangerously low and threatening. Your glare only intensifies with the added confidence.

"Who even is she to speak to in matters of the family?" Jacaerys comes to his mother's defence. Eyes on you, he adds "You're a no one,"

“She is more family than you have ever been,” Helaena mutters, but it's audible in the silence of the room.

“Your personal guard tried to attack the new boss,” Jasper Wylde warned, earning nods from other members of old Viserys' council. “And you claim his will is a lie, and refuse to accept his decision. You are not doing any wonders to your reputation, Rhaenyra. I would advise you to grieve in peace and then act according to your father's will. He would appreciate that. Don't you trust his decision this time? The one last wish that he had of you?”

The silver-haired former heiress calms down a bit at the lawyer's words as Steffon Darklyn is carried out of the room with two of Rhaenyra’s trusted guards.  “I would like to examine the documents myself once,” he finally says.

“They are all yours,” Jasper Wylde hands the pile of bond papers. “You can examine them all you want.”

Rhaenyra and her eldest frantically go through the document, studying the paper and examining every single signature of the dead old man.

You thanked whatever divine powers worked this out - that you were able to get the old man’s signature just about a week before he died. You eye everyone in the hall - from Jason Lannister, to Rickon Stark to Criston Cole, Borros Baratheon and the Tyrell girl - the members of Viserys’ council, Otto Hightower and the rest of the family and Rhaena and Baela. The only immediate family member missing was Daemon Targaryen, not even respecting his father-in-law in his death.

Rhaenyra already had tears in her eyes, but now her face is a mask of disappointment and disapproval. “I know he wasn’t in his right mind when he had you write this.” She firmly says. “These might be his words, but he would have never wanted that. I am not sure what you drugged him with, but he’d never do that to me.”

“Even with this will, you are getting Father’s most profitable business,” Aegon says, hands crossed over his chest. His eyes are tinged red - from rage rather than melancholy. You’re not sure if the bitterness in his voice is forced. “He gave you arms production, and your apartment. He left Mother to handle the crime part. Even in death he didn’t put his wife above you. And here you are questioning his decisions.”

Alicent motions to Criston Cole, and he disperses the crowd away from the hall. You begin to walk away, but Alicent grabs your wrist and holds you in place. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet girl.” she insists. “Thank you.”

You nod, unsure of how you could tell her that you were grateful to her, for allowing you to have this lifestyle to have a civil life after your doomed existence, for her patience to have you adjust with the civil world after years of being passed around all over Westeros. This is the least you could do for her, and you should be thanking her for everything that she has done to you, for letting her amazing children be your friends, for birthing your perfect lover.

“Rhaenyra, you lost your father, and I lost my husband.” Alicent says, her big brown eyes filled with tears of sorrow. “But I want you to put your grief aside for a moment and respect your father’s will. I can only offer you my condolences and to stay in Viserys’s chambers in this period of mourning. I hope that will be enough to push some sense into your head - Mafia lord or not, Viserys was a kind father to you. The least you can do in return is accept his will.” Her voice breaks, and you are amazed at how this strong, strong woman could mourn for the man who made her life hell, who did not pay any mind to the children that she bore for him.

You had more than a couple of harsh questions for the heiress, but you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to swallow the words that came to your mouth. 

“You don’t have the right to offer me my father’s house.” Rhaenyra’s words are harsh, probably from her delirious grief, but it is then that you snap.

“If he was so dear to you, where had you been all these years as he slowly decayed away to his sickness?” Your voice is full of bite. 

“What do you know of me and my father?” the silver-haired woman snaps. “You are just a no one who came out of nowhere like yesterday and you feel entitled to speak with me like that?” 

“I can assure you that I have lived here longer than either of your sons have,” you say, having snapped the thread of your will. “And you might be surprised by the extent of my knowledge on this whole mess of a family.”

“Have some respect, you’re speaking to my mother,” Jacaerys demands, standing on his mother’s right. His brown eyes are wide in anger, but his dull figure is not intimidating at all. 

“And what has she done to earn my respect?” You shrug. “The first time I saw you, you had wanted an injured child having his eye sewn shut to be tortured for calling your sons bastards. The last time I saw her at a sitdown with the mob families, her disgusting husband shot an important family man in front of the whole mob and she didn’t even bat an eye on it. I’d say she looked pleased, even. Rhaenyra, would you have another man killed for telling the truth?”

You tilt your head slightly to the side at the mother and sons’ alarmed expressions, a haunting smile gracing your face. Rhaenyra quickly composes herself, “My husband doesn't like when people disrespect me.” She says, lips pressed together in a smoulder. “You should be careful too.”

“And where is your so dutiful husband now?” You hiss, and Alicent places her hand on your arm, squeezing. You know that she wants you to stop, but you can’t now. Not when the poison in your veins threatens to explode, if you don’t let it out, the misery will suffocate you and might just be too much to bear. “With his lovely young Nettles, I presume?” you add with a sneer. “Fucking pedophile.”

The mention of Daemon Targaryen’s favourite young little whore is what finally has Rhaenyra’s walls crumbling, and her left eye twitches in uncontrolled rage. You smirk at her, enjoying this destruction of her peace. Alicent’s hand is still on your arm, squeezing at it, harsher now, wanting you to stop. 

“I am not sure why you have this vendetta against my step-father,” Lucerys finally speaks up. “But you probably deserved it, you bitch.”

And your rage explodes like a sparked dynamite. Alicent released your arm, unwilling to hold you back now. Every moment of those blurred six years that you had spent in that hellhole of a place seemed to be playing in your head like a tragic, horror movie. The image of those disgusting old men touching you without a care in the world - the fight response kicking in your veins. You are on their side in an instant, and you punch the younger boy in the face - you don't see Lucerys - in your eyes he is one of those filthy old beasts that call themselves men  of class. You fist lands right on his left eye, and he grunts - pushed back by the force of your punch. Aemond and Aegon both rush to your either side, holding you back with all the force that they could muster.

Everything happens so quickly - you feel nothing but white, hot rage toward that family, each one of them entitled to everything in the world. “He’s not worth it, my love.” Aemond’s quiet voice whispers in your ear, and you let him drag you away from this infuriating trio of mother and sons - the hall enveloped in total silence. “Let me take you somewhere more pleasing.”

“I should have strangled them,” you mumble.

“All in good time, my love.” Aemond promises. 

.

Aegon holds them all with an angry stare, Rhaenyra tending to Lucerys; bruising eye - it looks painful, and would probably swell too. He couldn’t care less, not when the young man deserved it. Lucerys should be glad that none of the hounds are there -  they’d have done some serious damage with the fury they had ignited in every single one of them. 

“You should be glad she didn’t have any weapons on her,” Aegon says through gritted teeth. “Don’t overstay your welcome - our Sunfyre doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests, you know. Neither do I.” He walks away, Daeron and Helaena follow him. 

The three are waiting for Alicent and Otto to return, and when they do Daeron is the one to speak up first, “They cannot live here with us, Mother.” he runs his fingers through his silver waves, sighing. “Not with how they act and speak.”

“I will try my best to limit their interactions with you, my children.” Alicent sighs, rubbing her forehead. “And I will make sure they do not speak of Daemon. I have never liked that man - he had always been quite the… rogue soldier.”

"You should have them kicked out." Aegon presses. "I wouldn't be surprised if my dear sister plans to take over our house by killing all of us. It's just not safe!"

"Viserys was her father and I cannot deny her the right to mourn in peace." Alicent sighs. "I will have Criston increase the security though."

"This will bite back in the ass." Helaena grumbles. "None of us trust her mother - she is not your friend anymore. She is a jealous ex heiress and might stoop low enough to kill us all in our sleep."

"It's just a matter of a week," Alicent says, hand on her chest. "We can manage."

"You say it's a week - a week when Aemond has to leave for his conference in Highgarden." Daeron notes. "He is our best fighter and I honestly don't feel particularly safe in his absence while the enemy lives in our home."

It is now two days later, and Aegon watches as Aemond ruffles Daeron's hair and asks him random questions in Computer vocabulary that he doesn't clearly understand. His youngest brother perks up like a sunflower and aptly answers the questions. 

Helaena cannot stand saying goodbye - it feels like an omen, she claims. Their mother is there, and she murmurs blessings to Aemond, caressing his shoulders. She is tense, Aegon can see that - sending away her favourite son is a risky gamble and she insists on Criston going with him, leaving them almost completely defenceless. He cannot blame her though - Aemond’s safety is just as important.

The brothers only hug, and Aegon only pats his little brother’s back saying, “You’ll get the best paper award, I know it.”

“I'd be the happiest if I do,” Aemond grins.

“I beg to disagree,” Aegon says, glancing over to his side, with you sitting on the bench, looking down at your hands. To his surprise, Aemond blushes and Aegon cannot help but smirk as he shoves his little brother your way.

As happy as Aegon is for you two, there is a little envy of the way the two of you beam like diamonds in each other’s presence, wondering if he would ever have someone like that. You hug him tightly and then crane up to kiss his cheek - Aemond smiles as do you, and he quickly snaps a picture to tease two sappy lovers. He looks away when Aemond kisses you. 

Then Aemond waves at all of you as he gets in the car after Criston, a happy smile on his face. You begin to walk away and the two remaining brothers flank your sides. 

“If either one of my nephews bother you, tell me.” Aegon promises you. “I won’t be sad if you hurt them, but mother wouldn't be too happy.”

“I am planning to go for a drive and walk Coco and Vhagar.” You say. “I won't have time to see those annoying little nephews of yours.”

“Good then.” He says, a feeling of dread dropping to the pit of his stomach. 

The awful feeling keeps clawing up his insides, and by dinner time when you have not returned it starts clawing at his throat. Aegon keeps a watchful on his half-sister and his nephews - something about them feeling off. Their eyes sparkle with mirth, as if they share an inside joke that has been made at their cost. 

It happens quickly, too quick for Aegon to reach for his revolver. The masked men target Daeron and Helaena first - then Alicent and Otto. A blade is pressed into the column of his throat - not cutting through yet. The blade would cut if he breathes too aggressively so he holds his breath. 

“Out of the chairs, now,” Rhaenyra says with a smirk. Lucerys and Jacaerys smile of their own accord, the two pairs of dark brown eyes jumping from Aegon, to Daeron to Helaena. Lucerys' eye is swollen, but not enough to take the vision from his eye, and for a moment of spite, he prays that it would have, serving the young man right. Otto reaches for his pistol, but the big man beats him to it, now holding Otto's pistol to his own head along with the knife at his throat. 

Aegon has both his hands being held behind him in a grip like vice. If he makes it through the night, they'd certainly be bruised. “Very generous of you to offer this special treatment,” He says. “But I'd appreciate not having a blade digging into my larynx.”

“I’ll have your throat slashed if you speak again,” Rhaenyra threatens. “I’ll take what's mine and maybe spare your life.” She twirls a small knife in her hands and adds thoughtfully, “not that bitch of yours though. I’ll have my time enjoying her screams.”

“Alicent, we can have this done in an easy way - you sign the documents naming everything to me and I'll not hurt anyone.” She says. “Or I’ll start with taking sweet Helaena’s nails. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

There are tears in his Mother’s eyes that he cannot wipe away. He can only hope to disarm the man holding him, but he cannot - there are too many of them to fight and they could kill his family for freeing himself, a risk he cannot afford to take.

Aegon is surprised to feel someone’s two elbows dig between his shoulder blades, for he is certain that only one man was holding him and that men only had two arms. The unmistakable crack of bones breaking fills his ears momentarily and he tries to look behind himself. His surprise turns to alarm when the hand gripping his wrists together loosens and falls, following the knife being dropped from his throat - and he can finally breathe again. A delicate hand is wrapped around his arm and tugs him back, and he is glad to have you on his side - for the look in your eyes promises a fate more barbaric than being burned alive. 

“You will release my family,” You say, voice deathly still. 

“I will-” Rhaenyra starts.

Five shots echo, interrupting Rhaenyra’s sentence before it even starts, and the five men holding his grandsire, mother, sister and brother fall dead on the floor with perfectly shaped bullet wounds oozing blood from their foreheads.

“You were saying something?” You ask, smiling as if you didn’t just send five men to Hell - well, six, if counting the man whose neck you snapped.

Jacaerys and Lucerys cave into their mother - Aegon cannot blame them, he, too, would hide behind his mother had he been at the receiving end of your sinister eyes. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes are wide with shock and fear - a look that suits her, he thinks.

“Cat got your tongue?” You ask again, the long barrel of your piston towards the floor, but your hand is raised in the trio’s direction. You slowly stalk toward them, twirling your piston between your fingers. “This fear suits you,” you finally say. “Keep this in mind the next time you plan to harm my family. Your goons will not be the only ones dropping dead the next time it happens. Off now, dinner’s over.”

Lucerys and Jacaerys follow their mother, wide-eyed as they take a good look at the five large, dead men laying on the floor, their blood turning the white marble a dark shade of red. Alicent looks at you as if seeing you for the first time - he cannot blame his mother - you have a naive face, no one could guess you are capable of such brutality. It’s a weapon, Aegon thinks, a weapon of mass deception.

Daeron looks wide eyed at the dead bodies, shuddering once before stepping over two pairs of immobile legs and coming to stand beside him. Aegon raises his arm and pulls his brother close. After all, Daeron is still young and not too used to violence. Helaena looks at you deeply once, your eyes are trained on the floor - Aegon thinks you are afraid, afraid of judgement - he cannot begin to imagine why, for you have just saved their lives and their rights. 

“You saved our lives,” Helaena says. “I don’t think words would be enough to thank you.”

“It was nothing.” You say, voice small. You look up once again and glance at the dead bodies scattered in the room. “This one is not dead,” You say, nodding toward the man that had been holding Aegon hostage. “I’ll have him questioned once he wakes, but I need help to move him - there.”

Aegon and Daeron both come to your aide and together manage to lift the burly man, taking him to the lift. You stuff the pistol in the back pocket of your jeans and then walk out of the room, saying, “I’ll send someone to clean this mess up.”

.

That had been the first time the Velaryon boys had seen you snap. The fear it had left in their brain had dulled in comparison to what they witnessed a mere two days later though. The sight of you was enough to send their thoughts right back to Hell - the place you had returned from.

With Aegon’s help, you had managed to obtain the full layout of the Bolton’s Knight Club. And with little assistance from Daeron, you sneak into the premises. His voice is in your ear, telling you the position of the guards and which point would be easier to sneak in from. You are upset that Daeron has to witness you going apeshit on camera, but you couldn’t do everything alone. You kill those guards as bloodlessly and quickly as you can and find your way to the children’s rooms. 

In the earpiece, you can hear Daeron speak with Helaena as he tells her the route to follow and she follows you in as you work to pick the locks. You remind yourself that you have done this a hundred times before tonight, but this place with its dark luxurious interior makes your blood boil to an extent that you are unable to think clearly. You want to stomp on the roof till this building collapses with everyone in it.

You waste precious seconds in picking the lock, but those moments are paid off as you see beds by beds of little boys and girls looking at you all wide-eyed and terrified. You spot some young women and men too - them eyeing your duo warily. Helaena starts with her gentle words and you can see them trusting her, as they file into two queues of around fifty people total. 

You know they think that this is a dream, a dream seen by most of them in their sleep. An angel coming to save them from this hellish world, to tell them they were only being tested and to be returned to their families. For you that dream could never be your reality, but you want to provide that reality to these kids whose innocence is stolen before they even got to realise life. Some of the young children are as young as four - barely out of the toddler stage, and your heart twists in disgust. You can only hope that her parents take her back.

A young woman clings to a little babe - barely over six months old. You motion at her to follow the other kids, but she refuses, terror in her eyes.

“What is your name?” you ask, as gentle as you can be.

“Martha,” she replies.

“Martha, listen, I know you are scared to leave.” You keep the voice gentle, force it to stop shaking. “You think that these people are the most powerful in the world and they will catch you. I am asking a lot from you when I ask you to trust me, but I have been here before and I know that it will not get better. It never does. Helaena will take care of you so that you can take care of your baby.”

“They said they’ll kill my sweet Ellaire if I try to run.” Martha says with tears in her eyes. Her dark hair is a mess, brown cheeks turning a dark burnt orange. “I can’t put Ellaire at risk.”

“Martha, if you stay here they’ll do to Ellaire what they did to you.” You softly say the truth. “And I know you don’t want that. We can help you, please come with us.” You glance down at your watch and urgently add, “We don’t have much time.” 

At her hesitation, you further add, “Everyone else has left, what do you think they will do to you and Ellaire when they see that you’re the only ones left?” You grab her wrist, careful of the babe. “Do you think they will let little Ellaire live? You have to leave. Now. Come with me.” Somehow you manage to coax her and she follows everyone else out to Helaena’s truck. Aegon is with her, waiting to drive away. You had ensured that those traumatised kids and young adults did not come across the dead guards - they didn't need to see dead bodies with the physical, psychological and sexual trauma that they already held. 

“Okay, we are done now!” Helaena says in your earpiece. “Daeron, is the path clear?” 

“Not yet.” Daeron says. “There’s a truck like yours at the back gate.”

“Shoot the driver dead,” you hiss. “I am sure they have brought new stock. Helaena, can you drive a truck?”

“Oh yeah,” Helaena eagerly says. 

“Aegon, get that driver and his handler good for me.” You quietly say again. 

“On it, ma’am.” Aegon says, and you hear the opening and shutting of the door. A small shuffling sound is heard and Helaena sighs. 

Two gunshots and dull thuds come into your earpiece and once again the opening and closing of truck doors is heard. “Alright, we’re done.” Aegon says. “Are we free to go now, captain?” he asks Daeron

“Yeah,” Daeron says. “You’re all clear.”

“Daeron,” you quietly say. “I am going to have to ask you to look away from the cameras now. You’ll hate me after this if you see.”

“I don’t think I will,” He says. “You’re doing everyone a favour with what you are about to do. Decimate them all.” His voice is venomous as he speaks, and you think he sounds more mad at them for you than you are.

“I will,” you promise.

.

It’s way past midnight, closer to the devil’s hour than it is to midnight by the time you are done with the Botlon’s Knight Club and its patrons. Your face is probably covered in blood, and your hair is heavy - damp and sticky. Your black leather jacket is covered in blood, but the dark colour makes it harder to spot. Dried blood marks your footsteps from the lift to the kitchen on Alicent's floor, working in the dark. You’re thirsty, terribly so. You’re covered in blood and desperately need to bathe, but you’re starving and you’re thirsty. A few drops of blood drip down from your braid onto the granite counter as you drain a jug of water quickly.

Your burning oesophagus and stomach thank you with relief as the cool water falls on them, reviving some of the sensations. There’s some leftover cake in the fridge and you take it out along with some cranberry juice and the butter chicken leftovers that you warm up in the microwave. You’re starving like a neanderthal - so hungry that you could eat a horse. But soon the chicken is hot enough to burn your tongue and you start eating on the kitchen island, stabbing at it with your fork and gulping it down with no civility. 

You are practically inhaling the cranberry juice from the glass when the light is suddenly turned on, blinding you momentarily as a set of vaguely familiar voices screams, snapping you out of the starved trance you are in. You slowly blink in your vision, and spot Jacaerys and Lucerys standing at the kitchen entrance, staring at you, their eyes comically wide. You are about to ask if they have seen a ghost, but then you look down at yourself, covered in blood and drinking a juice red as the blood on you. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent follow close, standing behind the two strong boys - Alicent sighs and shrugs as Rhaenyra looks at her former friend for some answers. You ignore them and continue to drink your cranberry juice - realising just now that you probably smell like smoke. You need to bathe, dreadfully so, but your cake slice was waiting for you. And you’re still fucking starving, so you dig back into butter chicken.

“Do you want to eat or just keep staring at me?” You ask after gulping down the last of your butter chicken.

“Y/N, you’ll need to have the kitchen cleaned before breakfast.” Alicent says, turning around as she yawns. “Go sleep, you three. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”

“Filthy demon,” Rhaenyra murmurs.

You hiss at her and the terrified trio rushes away from your kitchen, and you finally get to your cake. Having satiated your hunger, you return to your rooms and take a long, cleansing bath and then return to clean the lift with very contained smoke and then clean it with hydrogen peroxide. You are thorough in your cleaning, careful with the controlled smoke and then with peroxide followed by floor-cleaner. It’s past four in the morning by the time you are done, but you still have much energy left to expend. You play with the harddrive you had retrieved from the Knight’s Club, and sit down in front of your computer, easily accessing the cameras that had been connected to the Bolton’s private network till around nine in the night.

There is no physical evidence of footage, but you find your way into the Bolton’s cloud storage and erase the footage from there too, making sure to clear any traces of your invasion. It was simply as if the footage from that night was never stored on the cloud. You plug in the harddrive and remove the footage from there too, and then throw it in your fireplace. The outer plastic casing eventually melts away and you enjoy the flames dancing in front of your eyes. Alas, the fire is not hot enough to melt the circuits, but by the time you retrieve the half molten plastic, the circuit is easy to dismantle and you pick it out piece-by-piece and destroy the pin.

.

The fire from the previous night is the only thing being spoken of all over the university - assignments and homework, deadlines and new presentations forgotten. Early police investigation suggests that the fire was the culprit that claimed the lives of a total of sixty men - thirty guards and around thirty most powerful men in Westeros - with the Knight’s Club owners and runners - Reese Bolton, his brothers Ryman and Roose, his sons Rawdon and Raymond, a Velaryon man, Petyr and Edwyn the Frey twins, are the more notable among other names. 

You don’t care about that buzz though, because Aemond is set to return this evening. You have sparsely spoken to each other, only occasionally texting a have you had dinner, or how did your presentation go, kind of thing - but no proper conversation. You think of him - how his scent of leathers and limes comforts you and you cannot wait to have him back in your arms. 

The day passes by in a blur - the student’s union holds a short memorial ceremony for Rawdon and Raymond but you don’t go - you’d probably oust yourself by laughing. How they managed to recognize the dead men was still a mystery to you, for you were certain DNA tests couldn’t be this fast - it must have been the footage of them all entering, perhaps. 

The police says there was a fire down in the electrical supply and it short circuited, and the centralised air conditioning collapsed on the people, crushing their faces. They didn’t know that the air conditioning crushed them after they were lying dead in pools of their own blood. You had used a wide variety of weapons, which you spent a terrible hour in the morning cleaning before driving to King’s Landing University. 

Despite the blood colouring your hands red, you feel like the cleanest you have ever felt. 

“Did you hear about the fire at Bolton’s last night?” Calvin asks you as you slide into place beside him in the algorithms class. 

“Everyone is talking about it,” you say. You don’t have to fight too hard the urge to take credit. You want to, so desperately, but you resist it. You’ll have time later in the evening when Aemond is back. “I really don’t care though. As you know I was not particularly fond of Rawdon Bolton after that incident two weeks ago.”

“Of course,” Calvin says. “And you seem too happy,”

“Do I?” You ask.

“Yeah, glowing.” He nodded, an exasperated look on his face.

“My boyfriend is coming back from his conference,” You say, which is the truth. “I haven't seen him in three days! I missed him terribly.”

“Uhm, since when do you have a boyfriend and why don’t I know about this?” Calvin asks, a pout on his face as he rests his chin on his hands.

“Well, it’s just Aemond,” you shrug.

“Just Aemond?” he asks, incredulous. “Girl, you’re speaking about the Aemond Targaryen, right? Viserys Targaryen’s son?”

“Yeah, who else?” You frown.

“Girl what-” he seems shocked by your indifference, a hand on his mouth. “You’re dating Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed mob… prince?”

“Yes, Calvin. Did you leave your brain at home or what?” you say.

“You’re dating Aemond fucking Targaryen-” He repeats. “And you expect me to be cool about it?”

“You were stoned the first time I told you about that,”  You recall. “Calvin, I told you about this before, I am sure.”

“Must be,” He decides. “Because I’d never forget that otherwise.”

.

The news of the fire in Reese Bolton’s Knight Club has reached Aemond, clearly so. He wonders if it is truly an accident, but he doesn't believe it. He hadn't spoken with you since last evening, when you had ominously said, "I will be busy tonight, my love." You gave no further explanation.

As he drives into King's Landing via the highway, Criston sits in the passenger side, looking rapidly from mirror to mirror, eyeing for anyone who might be following them. Aemond zig zags this way through the highway, doing his best to keep everyone confused. 

There had been an attempt at him while he was in his hotel at Highgarden, but Criston had managed to save him by a second. A masked man had tried to shoot him, and he was captured by Cole and was presently tied up and hidden in the trunk of the car. He has some words to ask about the ambush. They managed to keep it under wraps, but he suspected it had something to do with his Mother being named heir and Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. 

Even with his disturbed mind, Aemond managed to get the best poster award, even if he didn't get the best paper one. He had just shrugged when you had asked about how it went, not wanting to tell you over the phone.

Aemond misses the warmth of your body against his, but he tries not to think about it too much and focuses on the road instead, hurrying to reach the Red Keep as fast as he can.

It's a little past sunset when he reaches home, and you are walking in the direction of the complex Vhagar and Coco on either side. The dogs rush at the sight of him and you let them go, and both the greyhound and the German shepherd seem to have gained their energy back at the sight of your silver haired boyfriend, and you let them off their leash, the two of them speeding to the black suv. Vhagar jumps on Aemond, as if trying to hug her human while Coco sniffs around, licking at Criston’s hand, rubbing himself all over his knees and calves. Cole lets out a rare laugh, patting the big ball of fluff on his head, murmuring, “Good boy Coco, I missed you too.”

“I missed you too, big girl,” Aemond kissed the running dog’s snout and rubbed under her ears as you managed to catch up with your pups. You smile at Criston who finally manages to escape Coco’s clutches only to be smothered by Vhagar, while Coco now targets his affections to Aemond, standing on his hind legs with his front legs on Aemond and leaving little licks on the scarred side of his face.

“I see you have been a good boy, Coco,” Aemond says, rubbing the german shepherd’s brown fur. You chuckle as your dog turns his butt to Aemond, demanding his long overdue butt-scratches, and your beautiful boyfriend has no choice but to oblige.

“Come with me pups,” Criston urges the dogs who eagerly follow him into the lift, smiling at the two of you as he leaves.

“Hi,” you say, unable to fight the big grin on your face.

“Hi yourself, my love.” He says, grinning like an idiot. “How I have missed you so.”

You reach forward and hug him, his homely smell enveloping you in blankets of comfort. His strong arms hold you close and his nose rests in your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Your eyes are shut and you can listen to his steady heart beat, his warmth bringing you much needed comfort. 

“I love you,” you whisper against him, and he squeezes you tighter in response, leaving a long kiss on your hair. His lips move against your hair - you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart and his - but you know what he says sigh.

“How was your conference?” You ask, pulling away from him. You examine him from head to toe, brushing back some of his out of place hair, your hand on his cheek. He loved the comfort your calloused hand brings to him, leaning further into your touch.

“Not peachy,” he confesses with a sigh. “I still got the best poster award though.”

“What happened, Aemond?” You ask. You have that alarmed gleam in your eyes that he recognises way too well, and he knows it’s too late to retract. 

So he attempts to distract you. “Nothing,” He says. “Nuff talking about that conference though. I want to spend time with my girl now,” he smirks a little and before you can react, you are thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a sudden gasp leaving you as he takes the fucking staircase up.

“Aemond, put me down you rascal!” You say with a giggle as he carries you up unceremoniously till the first floor landing. Aemond stops for a moment and he gently lets your feet touch the ground, and you think you are going to go to your rooms in Otto’s floor, before you are swept up into his arms again, bridal style this time. You laugh again, more freely this time as he takes the lift, a little proud smile on his face. His long, silky hair tickles your neck as you lean forward to plant a kiss at the corner of his heart shaped mouth, content with yourself. 

The lift halts at Alicent’s floor - the second - before coming to Aemond’s floor - the sixth one - and the lift doors open to reveal Jacaerys. Your happy mood sours at his wavering voice, “You’ve returned, Uncle.”

“It would seem so,” Aemond says, and you scowl at the young man before hitting the close button with your foot, promptly taking the Velaryon boy out of your sight.

“They’ve caused quite a mess in your absence,” You tell Aemond, absently playing with his hair. “I can’t fucking wait for them to leave.”

“Hmm,” Aemond hums, mentally taking note of asking Aegon about it later. You and Alicent would hold back details from him - he is certain. “We’ll get to that later. I hear there was a fire last night.” he looks at you with a smile. His eye hurts from this angle but it’s worth being able to see the slight pride blooming in your face as your cheeks colour. “It wouldn’t have been your doing would it be, darling?”

“No, not at all,” you say with a smile. “Me? Little old me doing anything like that?”

“Unimaginable,” Aemond adds. “Impossible, Inconceivable.”

“Any other synonyms left, good sir?” you poke his long, pale neck with your nose. He smells a little of sweat, but you have smelled worse. 

“Unbelievable, my love.” He teases.

.

.

.

.

tags:

@p0rnstargirl  @aerysa-targaryen @warners-wife 

@dollfaceyourfear @ladymoon666 @chainsawsangel @esmaada @amadwomanrambles @devils-blackrose @darthgamer74 @jbaby2

@its-sam-allgood @aemondmyl0ve @pingyu-in-wonderland @poisonedsultana

@a-beaverhausen @virginslut08 @depressedperson88