#dark aegon smut

[saltywritings]

The Bonds of Blood (Aegon Targaryen II x Reader) Dark Content

Summary: Aegon visits Aemond's wife at night.

Warnings: very dark fic, noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, slight stalking, envy, descriptive smut, blackmail, and trickery. adults only.

You've been married to Aemond for three lunar cycles now. He had shown glimpses of kindness in his own way… when he was present. Yet, to call him merely "kind" felt too generous—he merely existed. He was passive, seemingly disengaged. You endeavored to spark his interest. You inquired about his dragon and extended offers to share books with him. Nevertheless, the moments spent together felt devoid of life. Even amidst conversation, the emptiness hung heavy in the air.

Passion was absent, and intimate moments were few and far between, lacking any semblance of desire. His gaze scarcely met yours, and his departures were swift. The only instances when Aemond displayed any semblance of spousal behavior were in the presence of his elder brother. It seemed as though Aemond harbored a tinge of jealousy towards Aegon, perhaps protective of you from his brother's attention. Despite Aegon being among the few at court who showed genuine interest in you, Aemond repeatedly cautioned his brother to steer clear of his wife. Nonetheless, Aegon's presence always found its way back to you, defying Aemond's warnings.

At times, you found yourself pondering the possibilities of a different marriage, yet you endeavored to remain grateful that your husband was not cruel or violent. Despite this, the weight of duty pressed heavily upon you. Three moons had passed, and still, your womb remained empty, testing the limits of your hope. This was of course until the night you woke up.

As your eyes begun to flutter you first noticed the pressure on your body. The rhythmic creaking of the bed caught your attention, though initially, you were uncertain of its cause. This was until you could feel him, inside of you. He was engulfed in you, your tight pussy clinging around him. Aching for a sensation that he, your husband, had not provided you with this moon. A moan had parted from your lips, remaining in your throat as you pushed yourself up slightly.

"A-Aemond?" You questioned; a hand quickly pushed down on your back, holding you down against the bed. Your body obeyed, though your lips continued to spill the sweet sounds of desire.

There was a feeling inside of you. It was unfamiliar, foreign. A tightening deep within your womanhood that clung around your husbands length.

"A-Aemond, I-I-"You did not even know how to form words to explain what was happening, however, his hand hard against your back his length continued. Hard, smashing into you as you begun to spasm around him. Your first release would consume you- It made sounds that never left your lips bounce on the stone walls of the room causing him to push your face down into the bed to silence you. His trust quickened and soon you could feel him fill you.

This feeling was familiar, the other was not. You could feel his seed, sticky and thick, as he fucked every last drop into you. His trust becoming lazy as he kept you pushed down on the bed. He stayed there like that and while you wanted to question him you could not move. When he did pull himself from you he left the room before you could even fully turn around. Leaving you to sleep, sticky, and unaware of what your husband's brother had just done to you.

For you had thought that your husband had come to your room, late at night, to finally fulfil his desires . . . or his duty. Regardless you were finally happy to be fulfilling yours.

Aegon would come to you when you were asleep each day that week. He pushed you down on the mattress, face down, and always left without saying a word.

Tonight was no exception for Aegon. He had managed to slip into your room undetected, pausing for a moment at the foot of the bed. As you slumbered, as you often did, he couldn't help but notice how your features seemed almost angelic in the moonlight, reminiscent of a painting he had once seen of the Mother. Aegon's eyes were fixated on your chest, watching your breast as they rose and fell with your breathing. What he would give to fuck you in the day light. Aegon crept onto the bed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he deftly peeled away the blankets. Your legs were apart, waiting for him, he was certain.

Aegon normally flipped you over but tonight was different. He could not resist, for his hands carefully removed your undergarments. He brought them to his face and took an inhale of your sweet scent. His cock had become rock hard, stirring in his trousers as he brought them down. He did not wat a moment longer, for he soon pushed down on your thighs and slid himself inside of you. Even after nights of stuffing himself inside of you, your cunt was deliciously tight. Aegon begun to thrust into you, concerned about his own pleasure.

Your body became tense with him inside you, he watched as your face contorted; soft sounds falling from your lips as he thrusted into you.

The sensation was no longer unfamiliar. As you stirred from your slumber, you found yourself beginning to embrace the feeling. Yet, as your eyelids fluttered open, you gazed upward. For the first time since your husband had started visiting you at this late hour, you were able to meet his gaze. However, now eye to eye, you were able to see that this was not your husband. It was Aegon who had welcomed himself into your body, hands gripping on your waist as he spit you on his cock, grunting into you, and filling you with his seed each night.

"A-Aegon!" You asked in an out rage, a smile creeping on his lips as he placed his hand over your mouth.

"Shh-" He ordered as he started to thrust into you at an accelerated rate. Without mercy. You were tightening around him, involuntarily. You were trying to fight off the feeling of your own release; tears had been pooling in the corners of your eyes as you whimpered for mercy.

There was no mercy here.

Aegon knew what you were doing and continued until you spasmed around him causing him to hum. "Good Girl." He cooed to you, taking his fingers and now shoving them into your mouth. Looking at you, your hole full of his cock and another full of his fingers. "Fucking look at you, getting fucked by your husbands brother. You whore." Aegon said in a grunt as he continued his speed, slowing down slightly to savor this moment.

"You love this, don't you?" Aegon asked, his fingers pushing down on your tongue, causing you to gag on his fingers. You could not answer, you didn't have to. The slickness between your legs said more than any defense you would have given.

"Ah, Gods- I'm close. It's so hard to last inside you." Aegon spoke in a grunt as he continued to fuck you teasingly slow. "Aemond doesn't know what he's missing." He continued on.

Aegon would pick up his speed, unable to hold off any longer as he soon tense his body, his cock spasming inside of you. "Fuck- fucking milk me you whore." Aegon says as he fills you, ensuring that not a drop of his seed is leaking out of you, his free hand pushing down on your thigh so you have no option but to take it. He soon pulls his finger from your mouth and slowly unsheathes his cock from within you.

Aegon turns over to you and without a moment hesitation informs you, "You'll have to fuck Aemond here soon, convince him that he actually managed to get you pregnant."

[squirmhoney]

Wb Aegon grooming/manipulating little sister? Modern or canon, whichever sparks your interest

Warnings: All characters are 18+. Manipulation. Perv! Aegon. Dark. Smut. Incest. 18+

-

Aegon had never understood why he desired you so dearly but never Helaena. 

It definitely wasn’t due to him being forced into marital life with her, nor was it due to her looks, he knew Helaena was quite divine, others had constantly told him so. 

No, it was something to do with you. 

His sweet little sister who invaded his mind at the wickedest of times. When he was lying with his whores in flea bottom or when he found himself drunk enough to take his sister-wife to bed. 

His mother and grandsire had forbidden him from you, promising you to some lord that would align with his cause if he took your hand in marriage. But even the thought of you being away from him longer than a day had his chest tightening. There was no way he could possibly be separated from you. 

He was King now, he didn’t need to be separated from you. 

Or that’s at least what he told himself as he waited patiently in your room, lounging by the fire for your return. 

You didn’t notice him when you first stepped through the door, busying yourself with ridding yourself of your riding attire. 

It was one of your ladies that noticed him, jumping at the sight of him before bowing respectfully. 

“Your grace.” 

All your ladies bowed before him then turned their heads to you for guidance. 

“Out,” Aegon commanded, motioning with his fingers to the door. 

“You may leave us,” you told them with a warm smile, nodding your head as they made their exit. 

It wasn’t as wide as the smile you gave Aegon as you stood before him. 

“Brother,” you said, hand cupping the side of his face. 

“Angel,” He sighed, relaxing into your touch. “I need to ask you a question.” 

“Anything,” you told him, kneeling down in front of him. 

He clenched his jaw at the sight of you before him, on your knees as you gazed up at him. Your dress was already undone at the front, ready to be slipped off of your figure, and Aegon wondered what beautiful sight was underneath. 

“If your King needed something, would you help him?” He asked. 

“I’d do anything for you brother-”

“Would you do anything for your King?” He tilted his head, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. 

You knew what he wanted you to say so you said it. “I’d do anything for my King.” 

��Your hands rested against his knees, leaning your chin on his legs for comfort. 

While one of his hands leaned down to cup your face, thumb tracing your plump lips as he admired them. 

“You’re such a good sister.” 

“I am?” You asked, shivering as his fingers grazed downwards to the column of your throat. 

“Your King needs you to help him relax.” Aegon patted his trousers, waiting for you to take the hint and to climb onto his lap. 

You didn’t take long, knowing the gesture and hiking up your skirts to straddle his legs. 

But he was quick to position you, yanking your hips closer to him as he placed you over his crotch. 

“Aegon,” you protested, feeling his hardness in his slacks. 

But he was quick to silence you with a glare, hand gripping the back of your neck with a firmness that was cruel. 

You couldn’t do this, your mother had forbidden you from crossing lines with Aegon. She was already so angry when she had heard a servant girl had caught him with his hands in his pants as you bathed in the same room as him. 

“We can’t,” you shook your head at him, eyes growing wet. “Mother said-”

“I wear the crown now,” Aegon told you, lips forming a scowl. “Not mother.” 

You only swallowed at that, barely knowing what to say. “Helaena.” 

“I do love our sister but she doesn’t take care of me as a wife should,” Aegon said, lifting his hips up into you a bit. “Now that I’m King, I have all this stress that I need to get rid of.” A smile graced his lips at this “You know what I mean?” 

You were nibbling at your bottom lip, trying to maintain the sounds that were bubbling at the back of your throat as he pushed his hips up into yours. 

“None of that here,” Aegon tutted, using his thumb to release your lip from your teeth. “Your King wants to hear you.” 

You sharply moaned in response, shaKing your head in embarrassment as you pouted down at him. 

“Your King needs you now more than ever,” he breathed against your lips, bringing your face closer to his. “And you just swore you would do anything for your King, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, Aeg- My King,” you whimpered, grinding your crotch down against him and finally giving in. 

“Fuckng precious,” Aegon mumbled into you, pressing his lips into yours as he roughly kissed you. 

His tongue didn’t waste a second, dominating yours as he grounded your hips further down against him. 

It was you that broke the kiss, moaning into his mouth as the friction of the clothes between you rubbed at you in all the right ways. 

“Going to have to be a more dutiful sister now that I’m King,” he hummed as he trailed his lips against your jaw. “Might have to move you into my room, don’t know when your King might need you.” 

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi there! would you be up to writing smut

Dark!Aemond? something for example with age difference, daddy kink, corruption kink, degradation and breeding? If you are comfortable then Reader could be a Targaryen what would be great but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is perfect too

Twisted, Beautiful Minds.

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Niece!Reader

WORDS: 2,677.

WARNINGS: mentions of warfare/murder, mentions of death-threats, swearing, degradation kink, choking, Daddy kink, corruption kink, breeding kink, manipulation, narcissistic tendencies, male oral receiving [cock sucking], mentions of p in v sexual intercourse.

A/N - you know I'm always down for some dark!Aemond... I want to also dedicate this piece, as a small bday gift to my wonderful friend Mar @aemondsmoon you have been an absolute light for me on this hellsite, and one of my dearest friends... thank you for always being there for me, and thank you for being you. you are an absolute gem, don't ever change. ilysm! 🤍

The turmoil and toils of war had finally come to an end, when Aegon the Elder, your Uncle, had commanded Sunfyre to set your beloved mother, Rhaenyra, and younger brother, Aegon III, to death by dragonfire. Your heart shattered, and mind numb, you were certain your own death was imminent in the moments after: at the very least, your Uncle would punish you with a dragonrider's death... Yet that would not be the case at all.

It seemed other plans had been set in stone. Chained and escorted by the Kingsguard to return to King's Landing once more, where you had only days previous, fled in fear, were you welcomed by the cold stares of the "Green" Council. Your chains removed, as neither the King nor his Mother, had seen you as a threat, you felt no purpose to resist nor to fight back... Your family dead, your will had died along with them.

"Fetch for Aemond. Tell my younger brother that his betrothed has returned."

His stern words felt incomprehensible in your thoughtless mind, lagging to understand the notion. You felt a cool, chill course through your weak body, rigid as though you had turned to stone, and yet, you were still breathing, still ever so present. No one had consulted you on such plans or schemes. And you were certain that Aemond himself would definitively refuse to marry the daughter of a traitor [as you presumed he would justify]. Your Uncle, Aemond, was a formidable man, fought against your late father, and had emerged the victor... And as the war, and the recent imprisoned days had taken its toll on you, your eyes darkened with the lack of sleep, unable to eat a crumb of bread, you did not look as you once had in your frivolous court, as he had once remembered you.

Although, as he sauntered into the room with such poise and stature, a certain charisma of that of a victor oozing about him, with not a single word exchanged, other than a devious smirk supplanted across his once serious face...It seemed there was more to the union than meets the eye.

Since your captive return to King's Landing, a place in which you had once considered your home, felt nothing more foreign. The stone sand walls that you had walked and run through as a child, now looked strange, the unfamiliar symbols of the Seven proudly hung around every available wall and space, gave an ominous feel. The halls seemed less brighter, even during the break of day, with the sunlight blatant in the sky, you instinctively felt as though a shadow lurked around every corner, attentive to your every move.

Dragonless, and defenceless, you were less of a threat than the younger Princess, Jahaera. The King and his Council had deemed you stable enough to roam the castle grounds freely, with a close knight in pursuit, only to ensure your own "protection" [as Aegon would admit that Aemond insisted], although you saw it more as means to deter you from being tempted to run away.

Regardless, Aemond had not spoken a word to you since hearing of the betrothal. He attended dinners with you in sight, although you rarely spoke yourself, mostly pleading and bickering with Alicent to remain in the desolate confines of your chambers. She was incessant about you joining the family, as the union was to be set in a moon's turn.

He dared not even to sit beside you: constantly at opposing ends. Although, there were rare occasions you had caught the younger Prince, brazenly staring at you with his one good eye. Unapologetically, his full attention spanned towards you, even if he had noticed you had become aware, he did not cease gawking.

Something about his looming gaze made you feel uneasy, very much on edge: a dark tinge to his violet eye, his pupils darkened as they seemed dilated. It inevitably made your stomach churn, only forcing you to resign in defeat, often excusing yourself to bed.

And often you were left undisturbed to recluse in your chambers... Although tonight, it seemed you were not alone in your ventures.

Retracing the exact steps you would take most nights, often on your lonesome return to your quarters: this time there was an accompanying sound in the distance, echoing down the hallway behind you. Heavy footsteps that caught your immediate attention. Slowly panning around, the shimmer of his lengthy, silver hair against the pale moonlight that peaked through the open crescents of the corridor, was alluring to your eye. Halting in your tracks, your breath hitched against your throat, all in trepidation, as Aemond effortlessly caught up with you in a few short strides. This was the closest he had ever truly come up to you, his towering height against you, made him even more daunting face to face.

"Running off to bed again, I see. And why is that?"

The sudden eruption of his deep, low voice breaking the stillness of the castle passage, startled you uneasily. You had exchanged many words and conversations with your elder Uncle before, during an ancient time long before the Dance had spurred. Although, the dynamics had inevitably changed, blood had been shed viciously and cruel words spat. Despite the same Valyrian blood coursing through your veins as of your betrothed, you felt solitary in their surrounding presence.

"I-I lost my appetite, U-Uncle. I wish to retire for the night," You aimlessly stutter, too weak to hold eye contact with Aemond, whose gaze remained fixated on you. His vibrant lilac orb luring over every inch of your timid body.

"Do you think it wise to roam the castle your lonesome self? Has the war not taught you otherwise? Is my niece still that same stupid, little whore I have known?"

His harsh remarks shadowed by that familiar, sly grin struck across his slim face, was plenty to furnace an incoming reaction from you, your blood boiling beneath your tender skin.

"Ah- tongue tied now, princess? Have I struck a chord with you, hmm? Mayhaps you are as weak as your father was... Now, how would he feel knowing you are to marry me? That I'll fuck his little girl, like the common whores he saw."

Your mind had no correlation to your hand, and yet the simmering rage that blistered through your body sent your mind to abyss. The small palm of your hand, strikingly latched across Aemond's face furiously. And yet, although a sharp stinging sensation poured across your hand, Aemond remained unfazed and sturdy. It seemed you had smacked the grin across his face, and in its stead, that familiar, unnerving dark tinge in his eyes scorned across at you.

Before you knew it, Aemond gripped your sides firmly, forcing your body forward, as he harshly shoved you against the cold, stone wall.

"You think that wise, whore? After the mercy I fucking showed you. I could have your fucking hand for that, or worse your head. My pretty wife's head on a spike, I'll have it right outside my window."

The cruelty that oozed from his precise lips was relentless. You wanted to burst into tears or more, burst into flames there and then...

"Do you know how long I have waited to have you under my very touch? All the sacrifices I made, the arguments I fought against my own Council to keep you alive? Ungrateful fucking bitch. Did your Daddy not teach you to be a good, obedient girl?"

One of Aemond's calloused, rough hands reached up hastily, his long fingers wrapping just so lightly around your throat, as his thumb gently stroked at your lips. His viable eye ogling tentatively over your mouth, smacking his lips innately.

"I'm your fucking Daddy now. Teach you how to be a proper lady, and a good fucking wife. I'm going to fuck that pretty pussy of yours, till you are dripping of me. I'll have you begging like a pathetic, stupid whore. I'll fuck you till I have heirs of my own, till I see fit that you have disgraced your extinct, traitorous bloodline."

"A-Aem, U-Uncle-" You breathlessly whimper in fear: freshly, swelled tears glaze your vision, as they begin to clear with each shedding streak.

"What did I just fucking say? I'm not your Uncle anymore, bitch. I'm your fucking Daddy. You would be helpless without me. Probably dead without my doing. You fucking owe me."

"Y-Yes-" Another breathless whimper, although Aemond's grip loosened, his other hand began to slowly move its way over towards your breast. His uninjured eye moving in motion with his hand, eagerly wandering over your bust. That same, very hand, began to keenly grope at your plush side, kneading at your breast tenderly, it felt foreign and sensitive under his strange touch.

"All fucking mine... Finally. Did you really think, I would let some insolent lord have you to himself? I'd start a war for you, I won the war for you. And now you're going to repay me, just so-"

A mindless moan flew out of your wet lips, catching you abruptly by surprise, and by the looks of it Aemond, as his blackened pupil dilated with a ravenous hunger, his ears pricking and leaning forward in delight.

"I'll have you moaning for more, precious. Now on your fucking knees-"

Even with the hatred that roared deep within your belly, you felt reluctant to retaliate, as you knew Aemond would effortlessly overpower you. As he had in your youth, when you were caught in a brawl with him, often ending with him wrestling you to the ground. And after his detailed spill of such vile threats, you dared not to risk the second chance of life, you had been granted.

Your knees hit the concrete floor with some brutality, although you regained from the ache. As you steadied your propped position, your hands gripping tightly at Aemond's slim waist, he began to undo his grey, washed out trousers.

The sheer sight of his cock, was intense enough to have you questioning whether you could even take him. Although slim in girth, his length was extraordinary. A reddened tip just oozing lusciously with a white, clear film glistening over the crown.

"Suck Daddy real good, bitch. Show me that, that mouth has other good uses than for talking back."

Your attention lurking from below, dropping from Aemond's face to his cock and back up once more to his face: the sudden change in his mood shifting was palpable. The momentary, light-hearted look of ecstasy dismantled as a cold, unsettling gaze resumed across his handsome face, lingering over your kneeled state.

"Make me fucking repeat myself one more time, whore and I'll treat you worse than a whore. I'll have you forget that you are a Targaryen princess."

Aemond's large hands found their way at the base of your skull, teasingly stroking your loose strands away from your face, within a few seconds the sudden shove towards him, left you physically speechless. Your mouth slightly agape, was enough for Aemond's stiffened, pulsating tip to propel its way into your tight mouth. The friction of his hard cock against your silky, warm flesh inside, was enough to set Aemond's breathing into a speedy pace. Lean chest heaving, the mindless groaning on his behalf was somewhat alluring. You had never seen nor heard such sounds or vulnerability in Aemond before.

"F-Fuck, that feels so fucking good- Just as I prayed to the Gods. I'm going to make your mouth so numb, so fucking filthy of me, you'll be tasting me still in the months to come."

No coherent words exchanged from below his waist, only muffled moans and breath hitches, as you sulked with crave. As much as it infuriated you, pained you to admit, the feeling of Aemond's rigid, throbbing cock in your mouth, was elevating. You had to admit, in your youth, previous to the blood that had been shed, you had a childhood feverish crush on your elder Uncle, although thought it unlikely that anything would flourish from it.

"Seven Hells. Such a pretty whore, with a pretty mouth. J-Just the p-prettiest whore in the Seven Kingdoms."

With each plunge, rhythmically bobbing backwards and forwards, the raw taste of Aemond's cum, tastefully filling your mouth to capacity, as a mixture of his reside and your own saliva oozed from your crevices. The dreading thought of being caught in such a contentiously vulnerable position, especially before being wedded, was disturbing enough, for you were not yet widely favoured by the Council...

"Ughh- Swallow and get up, whore."

Self-disgust stirred nauseatingly in the pit of your gut, as you reluctantly devoured small mouthfuls of Aemond's load, almost convincing yourself you would retch it all up in a matter of seconds. Much to your relief, you remained poised, meekly wiping away the mess across your lips, shying away from Aemond's unmoving regard. As you regained your normal pace of breathing, Aemond lent a hand over, grasping your undivided attention. With such ease, Aemond aided you, lifting you up to stand, before confining you closely between the wall and his heated body once more, closing whatever space was made between.

"Now let's see what that cunt has to offer."

His skilful hands hiking your layered gown up, making way for his arms to snake around your bare thighs, lifting you idly off the ground.

"Can't wait till the wedding to tarnish you, I've waited long enough."

A sudden bolt of lightening pain shot from within your inner thighs, as your tight walls stretched out ceaselessly to accommodate, as Aemond shoved his rigid cock inside. Your back flattened against the sandstone wall, its texture rough against the delicate silk of your gown. Burying his length deeper and deeper with each harsh thrust, his heavy balls collided with your silky folds as he vigorously pumped himself back and forth. His pace, although rough, remained steady. His raw, sensitive tip pummelling at your cervix, felt scorching inside your lower belly.

"And if I fuck you so good, that you begin to swell with my child... What would your dead family think of their precious daughter then, huh? These tits belong to me now, and the mother's milk that comes with it. Your entire being belongs to me now. That babe in your belly will be all because of me, and you'll fucking love every bit of it."

"I-I owe you my l-life, D-Daddy-"

The words mindlessly slipped from you lips, and yet it felt instinctual to say. As Aemond's mouth lapped at the sensitive crook of your neck, you felt the smirk of his grin against your skin, his sharp teeth faintly biting at your soft flesh.

"That's right, baby. That's so right my needy, little slut. You have a Daddy now that can really take care of you, protect you... Love you."

The epitome of his words, the calm depth in his voice, had reached its glorifying peak, as Aemond's hot load shot up directly into you, reverently coating your insides. Like some royal orchestra in unison to his final thrust, did a growling moan escape his lips, followed by an whisper of a swear. Leaning his exhausted, heavier mass over you, as he safely guided your legs back down to the surface, his breath densely hot against your ear, his outstretched palms cladded against the wall for support.

"Clean yourself up, Y/N... Wouldn't want anyone else to see you as the whore that you are, and get any ideas-"

His heavy breathing made his voice less formidable and more husky. Eyeing over your form, as you once more scoured and polished up the mess he made between your thighs, with the inner layer of your gown. You simply nodded in response to his demand, before hastily attempting to rush back to the confines of your quarters.

Yet, a firm pull tugged at your elbow, causing you to halt in your tracks, unavoidably.

"I will seek you out again tonight... Be ready for me."

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/itbmojojoejo

[sunfyresrider]

Love & Ruin

Synopsis: After being hidden away for most of your life your mother decided to stop being protective. However, there is one rule you cannot break, DO NOT associate with your uncle Aegon. Of course, it's the first thing you do, and you both quickly realize you will be each other's inevitable downfalls.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x You (daughter of Rhaenyra) Warnings: drinking, cursing, smut, dubcon, more smut, manipulation, possible murder, obsessive tendencies, idk if this is dark!aeg or yandere but he's not okay, mentally. Word count: 7k Note: Part one of two:) I really hope yall like this. Reader is Helaena's age. I did not proofread; fuck it we ball. Tags: @lovelykhaleesiii @annikin-im-panicin @its-actually-minicika (Hi girls ily)

‘It wasn’t meant to happen like this’

Aegon paced back and forth inside the throne room waiting for the return of his brother. The storm that had rolled in was heavy, the sounds of hail beating the glass window echoed throughout the room. The sudden crash of thunder and jolt of lighting sent a shiver down his spine. The candles that lined the room were not enough to fully bring light into the dark. It was almost poetic; the storm echoed his inner feelings perfectly. 

‘How could you do this?!’

‘Have you gone mad!’ 

‘Think about your wife! Your children! How will this look?’ 

‘She won’t show us mercy now, you fool!” 

It had been hours since he sent Aemond to Storm’s End. The mission couldn’t have been that hard, go ask for a Baratheon bitches' hand and bring back a person. His mother had taken to chewing at her nail beds until they bled. His grandsire sat with his face in his hands contemplating how to fix this. 

Once a crown was placed on his head Aegon found a new sense of confidence, one that could no longer be stolen away by those around him. His family could no longer control him nor tell him what to do. He was king and kings did not ask permission. They took what they wanted. From now on his word was law and this mission was the only reason he didn’t flee to Yiti. It was promised to him then taken away and he fully intended to take it back. And what he wanted was traveling to beg for Lord Borros to side with the pretender…

Five hours, it took five hours for the roar of Vhagar to be heard over the red keep. The storm had subsided to a light rain, yet the sky remained dark. Finally, he rose from his seat, his heart pounding in anticipation. A giddy smile creeping onto his face that his mother couldn’t help but scoff at. It didn’t matter anymore; he had won his first prize in war. 

Murmurs from the council filled the once silent room but Aegon could only hear the pounding of his heart. His eyes locked onto the door waiting for them to walk inside. His imagination swirled with possibilities and all of them were better than his current situation. Alicent and Otto stared from a distance, both realizing their potential mistake. They let the dog off the leash and now they were about to suffer the consequences. 

Guards rusting outside the doors caught everyone’s attention. The room went eerily silent as the doors began to creak open. Aegon nearly jumped out of his skin as he walked forward to meet who was coming. 

Aemond, drenched in water, stalked inside slowly. His face was a mix of regret and… fear? The world stopped and as if on cue a flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder that lit up the room. Aegon’s heart ceased to beat, his smile melted into nothing, and his feet threatened to give out on him. His mother’s eyes widened, and her hands fled to cover her mouth. Aemond struggled to lift the wet, bruised and unconscious body in his arms. He let out a shaky breath, 

“There’s been an… incident.” 

From a young age Aegon knew he had no love from anyone besides himself. His mother simply tolerated him, his father forgot him, and everyone else loathed him. The first-born son who should inherit everything but instead was given nothing. The son born to be loved but destined to be hated. 

It was no surprise he was the way he was. He drank more than he should, fucked more than allowed and was cruel to those who may or may not deserve it. No one was born evil; they were raised to be that way. At least, that’s what he told himself to feel better at night. 

And he wasn’t truly evil in the eyes of most anyway, just terribly pathetic. A lonely fourteen-year-old who may never feel loved. A boy who would never fully feel the warmth of someone’s gentle touch, the excitement when they approached, the soft reassurances and sweet nothings they would whisper, the true connection when intimate with someone you loved. It was all out of his reach… Until you started coming around. 

For the better half of your life your mother, Rhaenyra kept you decently hidden from most of the court. It was not at all because you shared your features with Harwin Strong but because you were simply too precious for the world. You were her only daughter, her first born and you were too beautiful for the men in this city to gawk at and prey upon. 

She would protect you from everything her father couldn’t protect her from. So, yes you didn’t get out much and when you did Harwin, and your brothers followed close suit. Rhaenyra did become more lenient as you grew. It was better to let you live as you wanted under watchful eyes than be locked away because of her own fears. At least that’s what Harwin told to calm her. 

You were strictly prohibited from a handful of things though. Absolutely no leaving the keep unless it was daytime, and a handful of guards were there to follow. Absolutely no wandering around after dark, anywhere, no matter the circumstance. And finally, absolutely no involvement with your uncle Aegon. 

Sadly, you were born with the same rebellion in your heart as she once had. The very first thing that needed to be handled was Aegon. It excited you to no end thinking about why he was banned from speaking to you. You needed to know why it was prohibited and see if it was as exciting as you thought.

Dusk had fallen on the keep and the light from the windows was beginning to fill the corridors orange. It was one of the rare moments you were able to be completely alone. You were supposed to return to your chambers immediately after your septa lesson but had time to stroll. Right now, your brothers would still be in the dragon pit, your mother in a council meeting and Ser Harwin getting ready for his nightly patrol. It was price time to make an escape and seek him out. 

You found him in a compromising position. He was curled up in the corner of the library and reeked of wine. There was a subtle shine on his face from tears that were shed earlier. He looked pathetic, not in a bad way, in an abused puppy way that made your heart melt. How could you be banned from talking to him? When asleep he looked like a poor Angel. You crawled next to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. “Uncle?” You whispered into his ears. 

“Aegon?” Your soft voice began to rouse him from his slumber. His eyebrows began to furrow slightly. “Aegon, wake up.” He jumped away and snatched your wrist, startling you. “Brother?!” His eyes scanned the room and you before settling with the most confused expression plastered on his face. 

“N-no Aemond isn’t here. I-it’s just me.” Aegon paused in his drunken haze. Who was me? You were too pretty to be a maid, your clothes too fancy. His eyes danced up and down your form as his brain slowly started putting it together. “Your niece. It’s __ ” 

His hands released you slowly as his mouth slightly hung agape. Why in the seven hells was Rhaenyra hiding a creature as beautiful as you? Yeah, he had seen you in passing maybe once or twice but never really got a good look. 

You had the perfect plush lips coated in a shade of pink. Your eyes were large and glistened with his reflection inside your pupils. Your hair fell elegantly, highlighting your pretty face. And from what he could see from your neckline you had a nice chest too, for your age.  

He felt two small warm hands cup his cheeks, pulling him from his thoughts. Aegon stared at you confused, his lips puffed out. “Oh Aeg, are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” Oh gods, you were too precious. He was too dumbfounded to say anything, maybe too drunk still to fully grasp the situation.

You weren’t wrong though; someone did hurt him. His mother barged into his room and slapped him clean across the face without warning. Ranting and raving about his behavior and how he was disappointing the family. He nodded slowly, not exactly sure how he was supposed to react. You let out a deep sigh and your lips formed a frown. 

You knew exactly what to do. Your mother had done the same every time you or your siblings got hurt. You rubbed the tear stains on his cheeks and kissed his forehead gently. A soft smile appearing on your lips, “don’t cry please or you’ll make me cry. You’re a prince and a good son. You ride the prettiest dragon in the world and so many people think you’re amazing. You have so much to offer and they’re just too blind to see it. So many love you, I love you and-”

You were cut off by the sounds of your mother calling out your name searching for you. You let go of his cheeks and quickly embraced him. “You’re perfect, okay? Don’t cry.” You jumped to your feet and brushed your skirts down. “I gotta go… feel better!” Aegon sat and watched your little feet scurry off into the direction of your mother's voice.

His eyes were wide, and he was frozen in the same spot. Seven hells, seriously where the fuck have you been his entire life? There was a pool of emotions swirling inside him he couldn’t fully grasp. Your little hands and soft voice saying the sweetest things to a complete stranger. The way your lips softly pressed against his forehead radiating warmth throughout his body. You were so innocent, so blindly loving… You were his. 

It was an odd thing for him to think. He never really desired someone for just himself, Aegon didn’t really care until this point. But right now all he could think about was stealing you away and keeping you tucked away in his room forever. Corrupting you slowly but only for him, no one else could see it or experience it. He needed more, desperately and as soon as possible. 

He forced himself into wobbly legs and sucked in a deep breath. It was time to talk to his parents. 

The plan failed so horrifically he could swear the gods were pissing on him. He went and asked for your hand, said he was ready to be a good son, bring the families together finally. Aegon was shot down so fucking fast he got whiplash. His mother was okay with it, seeing potential benefits. But his father was adamantly against it as was his bitch sister. 

“You think I’ll let him drag my daughter into his depravity? Not until I am cold in my grave.” 

That could definitely be arranged. It made complete sense; he was the eldest son, and you were the eldest daughter. You were heir and he was the second son of the king. There was absolutely no reason for rejection besides their own selfish, impossible to understand reasons. 

It didn’t really fucking matter. When he wanted something, he got it one way or another. Thus, he came up with a plan to steal you away and woo his way into your heart permanently. 

Aegon had stayed painstakingly sober the entire day and avoided any of the whores he usually wasted his time with. He waited til long after the sun had set to sneak through Maegor’s hidden tunnels to try and find your chambers. It was a hassle, he stumbled into Jacaerys’s room once and immediately backed out. Then he walked past what he assumed was a hidden entrance to your mother’s room only to hear lewd noises coming from inside.

He didn’t realize it at the time but that was when Joffrey was made. 

The deeper he walked the more aggravated he became. Why was it so fucking hard to find you? It took him several failed attempts until he finally lightly pushed open the door to a room seeping with light. He peered in and saw you sleeping soundly on the bed, clutching a stuffed bear tightly to your chest. How cute, you were scared of the dark and slept with a bear, he thought to himself. 

Aegon wasted no time welcoming himself inside and waltzing over to the side of the bed where you slept. He brushed a loc of your hair out of your face and admired how beautiful you looked, even while asleep. If he was totally honest, he could stay here and watch you sleep all night, but he had things he needed to do. 

“Hey princess,” he spoke softly as he nudged your shoulder. Unlike him, you were an extremely light sleeper. You opened your eyes and they immediately shot wide open. You attempted to let out a scream at the intruder, but he swiftly shoved his hand onto your mouth. “Shhh! Shhh, it’s just me. It’s Aegon.” 

Your face relaxed and you blinked your eyes a few times trying to decipher if this was a dream or reality. “Aegon,” you murmured into the palm of his hand. “I’ll let go if you swear to be quiet. Promise?” You nodded your head and he slowly pulled back; a wide grin plastered over his face showcasing his perfectly even teeth. “Good morning, princess.”

You rubbed your eyes and peered over to the window. “It’s still nighttime…” you drawled into a yawn. “I know, it’s the only time you’re alone.” You sat up on your bed, “I’m sorry it’s just-” your words were stuck in your throat as he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face again. His eyes were completely memorizing, and he touched you with the gentleness only your mother did. “No need to be sorry, princess. I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

“Y-yeah.” Aegon stood up off the floor and handed you a cloak he had balled up in his lap. You raised an eyebrow at him and pulled it towards. “You don’t ever get to leave right? Well, I leave all the time so I thought I could take you into the city for some fun.”  

Your face lit up, you could finally leave and see what’s outside these dull walls. But there was an aching sensation at the back of your head. The sound of your mother's voice telling you what not to do. The fear of disappointing her was strong and the fear of potential punishment even stronger. “I- I can’t. My mother would be furious.” 

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Besides, you wouldn’t want to make me cry, would you? I- I just thought you would want to spend time with me.” His blue eyes peered up at you with the same heart wrenching expression as the other day. It was manipulative, he knew but it worked every time. “I won’t tell anyone, " you said in a nervous whisper. 

His frown quickly grew into a wide smile, flashing wolf life teeth. Aegon’s eyes had a mischievous glint behind him when he spoke, “good girl, put this on.” The nickname sent a shiver down your spine. A very subtle, almost unnoticeable feeling of butterflies filled your stomach. You blushed and nodded your head in agreement. 

It didn’t take long for Aegon to grab your hand and whisk you far away from where you were meant to be. You clung to his arm as you both scurried through the dark corridors. The farther you went the smell of dust and cow dung intensified as did the conversation of city folk outside the walls. 

The streets of King’s Landing were dirty but so much more alive than you ever thought they could be. It was the hour of the bat and yet the streets were bright with fires lit at every corner. The streets were crammed with people from all walks of life, travelers, merchants, witches, performers, whores, musicians, and knights. It was quite the spectacle for a young girl who had been confined to a castle. 

Aegon was reveling in your excitement and awe, still blissfully unaware of the depravity that shrouded these streets. Your voice carried the joy only of someone as innocent to the world as you could possess. It was fucking magical how you gazed up at him like he was your savior. 

To his surprise, you babbled about more than any girl he’d ever met. It should be annoying, but he was drowning in the presence of your voice and the way your fingers would squeeze his own when the topic turned to something that moved you. You had completely captured him with your accidental charm.   

But as the night went on his original scheme drifted into the back of his like a distant memory. Aegon couldn’t take you where he wanted, you were too good for it. The prying eyes of others would probably send him into a blind rage anyway. It was already beginning to build as random passersby simply looked at you. 

To avoid a possible murder or maiming he whisked you away to a final destination. Aegon told you people here eat, drink and play music here until the dawn rises. There were musicians and poets singing while people danced around them. Men and women were laughing and drowning themselves in what you presumed could only be wine. There were several dragon shaped lanterns that occasionally spewed fire lighting the corner of the world you reside in. 

It was pretty spectacular in the eyes of a girl. But it was also the place where your inevitable downfall began. It started with a glass of ale, not wine, that Aegon offered you. It burned your throat as you swallowed it, whatever you had made him chuckle and use that nickname again. It inspired you to drink more and keep receiving soft praises from your uncle. 

You could feel it flow through your body slowly warming your insides and sending a slight tingly sensation in your limbs. That’s when the music started to sound good enough to dance. You bounced around Aegon in possibly the worst showing of dance moves he’d ever seen. It was cute though, to him at least. 

That’s when you decided to drink more and fully let go of whatever expectations of a princess rested in the back of your mind. One, two, three, you lost count after the first. Aeggy refused to dance but he occasionally twirled you around and let you hang onto his shoulders. 

As time passed on so did any semblance of sobriety you had left. Your words were slurring together, and your movements became sloppy, the ability to stand was nearly completely lost. That’s when Aegon declared it was time to bring you home. At first, you tried to reject the idea and fight back, but your muscles were just as weak as your mind. 

He lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist so he could carry your little self-home. It was okay, at first being carried by Aegon. But then you began to feel his breath on your neck sending goosebumps through your body. The low whisper of his voice telling you sweet things echoing in the walls of your mind. Then came a new feeling between your legs when his lips brushed against your ears ever so slightly. Every sensation was heightened to a point it had never reached before. 

It was a warm ache between your legs that kept getting worse the longer you were wrapped around him. You were worried, what if the wetness between your legs was your moonblood. How insanely embarrassing would that be if you bled on your uncle? You tried to untangle yourself, but he put two firm hands onto your waist and pulled you back in. 

The sudden friction between your legs caused you to yelp, a quiet yelp that did not go unnoticed. He paused his steps, glancing at you avoiding his eyes then back at the street to the keep. His lips slowly curled into a smirk only he could wear so well. Aegon didn’t say anything the entire way back home, though a million things were racing through his mind. 

The walk home was agonizing, every once in a while, he would move in a way that sent electricity from your core to the depths of your stomach. You didn’t even notice the tiny few whimpers that came from your throat, but he did. Oh, Aegon was noticing it all, every sound, every movement, every look, the warm feeling between your legs that was growing damp across his waist, and it was driving him mad. 

He should have been a good little prince and placed you on your bed and left but he had never been a good prince. Aegon wanted to know how far he could take it before you melted beneath him. Obviously, like a good uncle he helped you undress into your night clothes since you were too drunk to do anything. 

“Come on, princess. Time to lay down.” You begrudgingly threw yourself onto the bed and rolled onto your back. You couldn’t sleep, your undergarments were uncomfortably wet, and the ache continued to get worse. You obviously couldn’t tell him any of this, so you laid there, suffering. 

Unexpectedly Aegon climbed into bed he was on top of you, his knee moved to press in between your legs and your eyes widened from their half-lidded state. “Are you okay, niece? You look… frustrated.”  His face was plastered in fake concern, though you couldn’t tell. You clenched your legs together trying to prevent him from moving. “I-I’m fine,” Aegon moved his knee to rub against your core just once, your legs unconsciously tightened around him. “U-uncle,” you stuttered out in a near whimper. 

“If there’s something wrong, I can help you…” He moved his knee into your core, and you bit down onto your lip trying to stifle the sound threatening to come out. Aegon, though a good actor could not hide the glint behind his eyes. He leaned into you, pulling your lip out from your teeth with thumb. “I can show you what helps me feel better.” 

He whispered lowly, you didn’t have time to think, or reply before his lips were connecting to yours. The taste of sweet mead filling your mouth. You attempted to push him back, tell him no, this was wrong, and you could get in so much trouble. But the feeling of his legs between yours was easing whatever plagued you. 

He slipped his tongue down your throat and entangled it with your own. The feeling of need was becoming too much so you moved your hips, finally. A soft moan forced itself out of your throat as you desperately tried to move against, aching for something you didn’t understand. A few tears slipped from your eye wetting his cheek. 

Aegon chuckled into your mouth before pulling back, you whined at the loss of both his lips and his knee. The throbbing feeling between your legs became increasingly worse every second he wasn’t there. “It aches, doesn’t it?” Your face flushed red as your eyes bore into him, the true image of innocence laid out beneath him. 

His hand traveled from your cheek to the hem of your dress bunched up at the ends of your thighs. Aegon slipped his hand underneath the fabric and hovered over your cunt. You grabbed his hand and stopped his movements, “N-no we can’t.” He cocked an eyebrow, “why not? You hurt and I’m the only one who can fix it.” Your grip on his hand slowly relented, “but i-it’s inappropriate.” 

Aegon forced his hand forward so he could cup your cunt. It was completely soaked and so needy for release, how could he stop? “No, it’s not. I’m your uncle and it’s my job to take care of my sweet niece.” You bit your lip in contemplation, the feeling of his palm on your clit made you want to cry. It was too much, the feeling in your core was too much.  “Please, Aeg.” 

He crushed his lips into yours forcing all the breath out of your lungs. His fingers slid up and down your slit collecting your wetness on his finger. His other hand moved to palm your dress and pinch your nipples beneath your gown. Your moans threatened to echo throughout the keep but he swallowed each one with his lips. 

Aegon forced one finger inside your cunt and immediately you clenched around him. Gods, you were so fucking tight he would have to force in the second. Your back arched as he moved his fingers to hit the spongy spot inside. The feeling of your core tightening was overwhelming, tears began to stream from your face and your nails dug into his shoulder. 

Your hips moved unconsciously into his hand, pleading for release. His thumb moved to rubbed circles around your clit and all thoughts you had were dumbed down. “A-aeg!” You whimpered into his mouth; the coil tightening was overwhelming all of your senses. The sounds of his fingers pulling in and out of your dripping cunt were filling the room. 

“Be a good girl and cum for me, princess.” His movements were faster, harsher and more desperate than before. “P-p-please,” you stuttered out in a loud moan as your legs began to clench around his hand. He growled, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Cum on my fingers, baby. That’s right, be a good fucking girl for your uncle.” His fingers curled up and pressed deep into the spongy spot inside you. You felt your cunt clench around him, your core tightening harder than before until the coil broke. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your body began to shake and the feeling of ecstasy washed over you. 

You crashed, your legs twitching as he continued to move circles around your sensitive clit. Aegon pulled his fingers out and your body mourned the loss of him. He wiped his hand on his clothes and bent his head down to place kisses all over your face. “You did so good, princess.” He spoke in between the pecks he placed on your face. 

“Aeg… I’m tired.” Your body was limp, and your eyes began to close on their own. “Shh, go to sleep, princess. I’ll clean you up.” And he did exactly what he said, surprisingly. He took the time out of his night to carefully clean up the mess he made on your body and clothes. It was pathetic to admit but at some point, he came in his trousers, and it was leaking out onto your clothes. 

So, he had to change you. Aegon didn’t mind, watching you sleep so peacefully and taking care of his little angel was nice. Especially after what you had given him. He stayed the night, watching you sleep peacefully until the sun rose over the horizon and he scurried into his own room. 

It became a horrible routine between the two of you. Aegon convinced you only he could make you feel that way, so you had to come to him if you wanted it. He would always visit at night, though most times you simply stayed inside. He touched you in places that were meant to be forbidden and you came undone beneath him… repeatedly. 

You enjoyed him for more than that though. Unlike your brothers or other family, he was always there. Always teaching and showing you exciting new things, making you laugh constantly, showering you with affection you received from no one else. He worshiped you in his own way. 

Aegon was completely addicted, and it was going to kill him eventually. If you weren’t awake when he came, he would just sit and watch you sleep, occasionally taking his place besides you. If you were awake, he craved your attention and your body… and he always got it. You were so kind and loving towards him, completely unaware of how others viewed him. You told him you loved him, were proud of him and he was a good man. 

No one had ever said those words to him before. It’s why the addiction started and why it had no chance of ending soon.  When he was upset you kissed him and whispered words of encouragement. You went out of your way to make him feel happy and deserving of the life he had. And it’s why, for a short time, his behavior started to improve drastically. 

It shocked essentially everyone around him, especially his mother. For a moment she was almost proud, maybe her speeches finally got to him, and he was taking being a king seriously. That was before Aegon told her he was only behaving this way so he could prove to Rhaenyra, he deserved you. The situation caused a whole different type of stress for Alicent. 

 Things were looking up anyway. Especially since your mother had officially started letting you out on your own. You were now a teenager and had to learn some type of independence. The dragon pit was your favorite place even though your mount was a lazy bum. 

Plus, you got to spend lots of time in the pit with your uncle and you got to watch him train with the other boys. Of course, a few people noticed the way you watched him and how he watched you. It was kept quiet, as far as anyone knew you had no relationship. 

Aegon, thankfully, found enough self-control to not fuck you. To do enough to keep you attached to him but not enough to ruin your innocence completely. It was hard to explain how exactly he felt. It was like he needed you to breathe or eat or do anything. It was bordering on a very unhealthy obsession combined with genuine fondness. 

It was new and it was perfect. He was no longer lost in this world with nothing to live for. 

 Until the day you abandoned him for Dragonstone. He cried, a pathetic and desperate display to his mother asking for her to keep you here. He pleaded for them to just allow you to be wed, he begged to let you stay as her ward. He made promises he probably couldn’t keep but tried, nonetheless.

All he got was sympathy, it was out of her hands completely. The king and his whore sister made the decision to forbid a marriage. They made the decision to let you be sent away to that desolate, rain filled, and droll island. To make it worse the gods decided to spite him and have him betrothed to his own sister. 

He almost immediately got worse the second you boarded the ship. Aegon fell right back into his old habits of whoring, drinking and being a massive cunt. The shift was bound to happen so no one was surprised but it was becoming increasingly impossible to keep him under control. Everyone else fell back into their old habits of beating and berating him any chance they got…

Aegon only ever really felt happy again when he drifted off in his sleep. He could feel, touch, hear and smell you again in his dreams. For a few hours every night he was back in your room making stupid jests only you would laugh at. It was like heaven every time he closed his eyes… Then he woke up. 

To ease his suffering, he fisted his cock while smelling the clothes you had left behind pretending it was you. If not that he would get drunk and imagine all the ways he could kill your mother and his so, he could steal you away. One day, he would take something from them that they truly loved so they could understand exactly how he felt. For now, he tormented Aemond and did everything in his power to piss his parents off. 

Luckily for Aegon and those close to him, Laena Velaryon died in childbirth and his chance to be reunited came sooner than expected. The ride on Sunfyre was one of the best he’s had in ages. It was as if he could sense who they were seeing and was absorbing his rider's excitement. It seems important to mention Sunfyre has a fondness of your she-dragon who he may or may not have tried to breed on several occasions. 

The funeral was fucking boring. He didn’t know anyone there and didn’t really care either. Aegon spent most of the time ignoring the speech and scanning the crowd for your little form. He didn’t find you, so he fled into a corner with his wine and brother close on his tail.

Your mother was stalking about staring at Daemon, Helaena was mumbling riddles to herself while playing with a bug, the bastards were comforting the Velaryons, and Aemond was on his left half asleep. Where in the seven hells was his little princess? As the sky began to cover itself in a shade of gray, he spotted you. 

For a sliver of a second he was overjoyed, he dropped his wine and stood up straight preparing to walk over. The crowd began to dissipate and on your right was a young Velaryon boy with his arm wrapped around you showing off whatever was in his hands. His eye twitched and his firsts unconsciously bawled up til his knuckles turned white. Aemond peeked over and scoffed, “it’s a waste of time.”  

“I’m gonna kill him.” Aemond rolled his eyes and slumped back into the wall. His obsession with the bastard was beyond him but everything his brother does is beyond him. Aegon spent the rest of his funeral staring daggers into the boys next to you. He was making you laugh and touching you far too much for his liking. Jealousy, rage, hate, hurt, Aegon couldn’t put a name to everything that was boiling inside his stomach, but it was too much. You hadn’t even fucking glanced in his direction the entire night. 

It is rumored by the maesters later that night King Aegon took his first life by feeding an unsuspecting boy to his dragon. Others claim the boy simply drowned in the high tide that night and was washed away to sea. The body was never found so no one truly knows… Aemond, personally and wholeheartedly believed his brother pushed the boy into the water and let him sink. Driftmark no matter how you looked at it was a terrible night for all involved. 

The hour of the bat, a time of night you learned to love dearly was now a time of loneliness. Dragonstone was incredibly terrible especially since your uncle was nowhere in those walls. You were severely depressed to say the very least. You knew he was coming today and wanted to seek him out but failed to find him. 

It didn’t stop you from sneaking out at night in a very desperate search for him. It took around twenty minutes for you to weasel your way through Driftmark to his supposed chambers. You ran full force into Aemond on the way which made you both fall to the ground. He was going to try and claim that damned dragon you saw him watching her all day and you were going to reunite with your uncle-lover. Both of you would be in the deepest shit known to man if anyone found out. 

So, a silent pact was made to tell no one where either was going. You knew it was a real deal because he helped you off the floor and nodded his head in the direction of the room you were trying to find. ‘Good luck,’ you whispered quietly as you both scurried off in opposite directions. 

Much to your dismay he was passed out drunk. You had to literally shake him awake. “Aeg… Aegon!” You climbed on top of him and shook his shoulders. He moaned, groaned, tried to push you away but you were determined. “Wake up! We don’t have all night.” You swore you saw his ears perk up like a dog. His eyes opened and he shot up in bed nearly knocking you off. 

“You!” He grabbed ahold of your face, squishing your cheeks in his hands. “Yes, it’s me! Where the hell have you been all day?” Aegon looked offended and almost betrayed, “where have I been? Watching you swoon over some Velaryon cunt.” You scoffed, “watching me? I looked for you all day! I had to give up and talk to a cousin I barely knew.” 

His eyebrows furrowed together, “if you barely knew him then why was he all over you?” You grabbed his face, “if you paid any attention, I was trying to escape him the entire time.” Hm, he could have been blinded by jealousy and didn’t notice you politely backing away and avoiding the kid’s eyes completely. He thought you were acting shy and coy, but this made sense. 

“You still love me?” He did this more often while drunk. If he ever felt insecure his blue eyes would turn pale and start to water. His lips puffed out slightly and he bore into your soul begging for consolation. You knew the quickest way to make his fears go away. 

You pressed a kiss on his lips, trying to drink away all of his fears. Aegon pulled your face as close as possible, sucking all the air from your lungs. Your lips danced around each other passionately trying to make up for the time apart. 

“I still love you, Aeggy.” You murmured into his lips; a faint grin formed on his mouth. With his eyes half lidded he whispered, “prove it to everyone then.” You chuckled softly; a soft look of confusion plastered on your features. “How do we do that?” His hands slipped down to your waist, then to your thighs rubbing them slightly. “Give me all of you before they take you away.”

There was a deafening pause in both of your movements. The amount of trouble you would both get into would be life altering. Losing your maidenhood to someone who you weren’t wed to was a sin, a crime even. “So, you don’t really love me. You don’t even trust me enough with yourself.” 

It felt like a sword was plunged through your heart. Of course, you loved him. Of course, you wanted to give him everything. “T-that’s not-” he released his hold on your thighs and ripped his face away from yours. “Get out.” You grabbed his hands and tried to pull them back to you, “Aegon please this isn’t-” His eyes turned dark, his hands were ripped out of your grasp. “Don’t lie to me. You used me and now you’re discarding me just like everyone else.” 

Tears began to prickle at the corner of your eyes. You never ever used him; you loved him with all your heart. There was never another person who made you feel the same way he did. “Please, I love you,” your lips trembled while you spoke. “I don’t love you.” 

You shook your head no, no, no, no, no, your entire world came crashing down at once. The sword in your heart ripped it in half. Your breath quickened and your arms began to shake. The tears that threatened to fall came pouring out of your eyes. “Please- pleas- I love you- please- you can have it- anything you want please don’t leave me.” Your cries were near incoherent. 

He was evil, this was the absolute proof of it. Aegon knew he was lying to have you; he knew exactly what hold he had over you and did it anyway. You just couldn’t understand, if he took your maidenhead, you could be together forever. He wasn’t just doing this for himself, it was for both of your sakes. It was blisteringly obvious he would never stop loving you.

“Shh, don’t cry, I’m sorry.” He pulled you into his chest and combed his slender fingers through your hair. “We’re going to be together forever, okay? I'm never leaving you.” He lifted your chin up so you were looking at him. Even when you cried you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. “Let me show you how much I love you.” You nodded your head desperately. 

It took minutes before you were laid out flat on the bed. He lifted your legs over his shoulders and buried his tongue inside your core. It was new and the pleasure was radiating throughout your body faster than before. Aegon swirled his tongue in circle around your clit as he brutally fucked you with his fingers.

Your hips bucked up to meet his face and he growled a response. The vibrations sent waves of heat through your veins. Your thighs clenched around his head as your orgasm began to wash over you, far quicker than ever before.  You cried out at the feeling of the coil coming undone in your stomach. You could feel his lips form into a smile, he placed kisses onto your sensitive clit causing you to whimper. It wasn’t over, he had just started. 

Aegon pulled away and you whined at the loss of his heat on top of you. Then you heard the sound of his trousers being pulled off, you looked away out of politeness. “Don’t be shy, baby. It’s all yours.” You pulled your head off of the pillow and your eyes widened. Aegon was thick, incredibly thick and you couldn’t imagine how that was going to fit inside you. 

His tip was a bruising pink, and you could see his seed already beginning to leak out. It looked painfully hard as his veins popped out. He climbed on top of you without a moment's notice and rubbed himself against your dripping slit. “Aegon,” you whined as he teased your entrance. 

Aegon leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. He prodded your entrance, “just be a good girl for me. It will only hurt for a second, I promise.” You tried to open your mouth to reply but an incredibly loud scream escaped your lips as he slowly began forcing himself inside. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned under his breath. 

The sensation of being filled to the brim made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Aegon moved painfully slowly, thrusting himself in and out of you. You moaned incoherently as his tip pushed into that spot inside of you. What started out as pain was quickly turning into pleasure. 

You wanted him deeper inside you, you needed him to fill you completely. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pulled him into you. He moaned as your cunt swallowed his length entirely. “So needy for my cock, princess.” You whimpered breathlessly underneath him, “please Aegon.” He moved his hand to cup your face, so you were staring at him. Your eyes were blown out in desire and your face was flushed a deep shade of red. 

It was as if Aphrodite was underneath him begging for him to fuck her. “That’s a good girl begging for me.” His thrusts started to become faster, and your mind began going numb. Your cunt clenched around him as your eyes welled with tears. “Yes! uncle, please. Please!” You stuttered between moans and whimpers. 

His lips crashed into yours stifling your moans as he forced himself deeper inside you at a bruising pace. His cock pounded against your cervix and not even his lips could fully swallow your moans. You wrapped your arms around his neck and dug your fingers into his shoulders. “Fuck baby, you’re so perfect for me.” Aegon’s praise made you whimper for more.

His cock was throbbing inside you, his seed threatening to spill at any moment. “My good girl,” he moaned into your ear, putting emphasis on ‘my’. Your entire body was going limp beneath him. The friction of his skin rubbing against your clit caused you to start coming undone. 

“Aeg- aegon- please cum for me.” He never expected those words to pour from your mouth like a carefully constructed melody. Aegon dipped his head into the crook of your neck and began to whine as you clenched around him. As your core began to tighten you moaned a symphony, “I love you, I love you, I love you-” 

Aegon picked up his pace, brutally fucking you with every ounce of energy he had. You felt the heat in your core turn into a fire as ecstasy started to wash over you. Your cunt clenching hard trying to drain every ounce of him.

The door slammed open “My Prince! It’s urgent-” Both of your heads shot to the entrance, staring at the mortified king’s guard whose eyes were boring into you. Oh, you were completely fucked. 

Silence, the walk to the grand hall of Driftmark was completely silent. The guard behind you refusing to make eye contact with either of you. You could barely walk straight; your body was sore, and wetness was dripping down your legs. 

All you could do right now was pray to the gods he didn’t snitch. Your hair was a mess, sweat was glistening on your faces, your night clothes were a mess, Aegon probably had your juices still on him, your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your lips were bruised… you were done for. 

Although, as you entered the hall you noticed everyone else looked far worse than you. You noticed your brother’s bloody faces first and rushed over to them. Aegon immediately wanted to die the second you left his side. He wasn’t concerned at all; this was meant to be found out about. 

Except, why now of all fucking nights. His brother had been maimed by your bastard brothers and his mother was in a frenzy. All he could do was stare at him in shock, the feeling of guilt washing over him. Aegon should have been there for Aemond, he should have saved him. 

He glanced at you and your brothers were looking at you in disgust. Even when you reached out to comfort them, they pushed you away. Bastards, vile disgusting bastards. 

It only got worse from there. Your mother came rushing in, obviously after fucking her uncle. He wanted to laugh, like mother like daughter. His mother was frantic demanding for justice, Rhaenyra screeching bullshit and you tucking yourself behind everyone. 

Then the question was asked. “Aegon! Where were you?!” He didn’t even get a chance to reply before the king’s guard swooped in to make matters worse. “He was in his room, your grace… with the princess.” His head nodded towards you, and you looked absolutely mortified. 

He should have waited to take it, he should have never made you do anything. Everyone in the room stared at you, just you. It took mere seconds for Rhaenyra to see exactly what had happened, only fueling her fury. Alicent, on the other hand, looked even more upset. The slap she so harshly laid across his face echoed throughout the room, completely silencing it. 

There would be no justice since he had chosen the perfect day to defile the king’s favorite grandchild and his sister’s favorite child. You should hate him; you should want him dead. “Who told you these lies boy?” His father’s voice was filled with venom. “Aegon.” His father’s eyes turned dark as he tried to limp his way over to him. 

“That’s not true! I told him… both of them.”  A soft, quiet voice from the other side of the room caught everyone’s attention. You were defending him against the wrath of your family when he had just quite possibly ruined your reputation. If his obsession was bad, then it definitely got a thousand times worse at that moment. 

Everything that happened after that was a complete blur. Insults were thrown, threats were laid out, his mother pulled a knife on his sister, and you fled the scene with your head down. It was like a fucking fever dream that didn’t seem to end. 

It got worse the next day. The verbal assault he received from his mother was one for the history books. As was the slap that turned into a giant bruise on his cheek. Aegon was absolutely banished from ever talking, touching, or breathing near you. Any attempt at reaching out would immediately be cut down. His father said nothing of it, probably realizing his mistake in not wedding you sooner. Even Aemond, who should have despised him, forgave him.

It didn’t matter what they thought, he loved you, he wanted you, he needed you, and he was going to fucking have you. Aegon realized several things that night. You needed to be saved from your family as quickly as possible. The bastards and his whore sister needed to die sooner than late. Lastly, he was going to become king no matter what he did. 

You were forbidden from ever speaking to Aegon again. It was awkward to say the least when you had to tell your mother everything. She should have been mad, hit you, yelled at you but she only hugged you when you cried. Your mother knew you didn’t tell anyone you were bastards. She knew you wouldn’t lose your maidenhead unless you truly believe they loved you. However, it was a secret that you could never ever tell anyone else. 

You can never repeat what you said that night, but it was okay, you only wanted to protect who you loved. She explained how Aegon was taking advantage of you and men lie to get what they want. They prey on innocent girls, pretend to love them to get what they want, then discard them. Your mother repeatedly told you it wasn't your fault for your kind heart. She stated it was her own failure for not protecting you from it. 

You didn’t truly believe it was all lies, at least, not all of it. It didn’t really matter now, he was gone forever, and you were alone on Driftmark. 

Until you and your family would have to return to King’s Landing, five years later.

[flowerandblood]

The Evening Star (Preview)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • fem!reader ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, kidnaping, sexual tension, obsession, incest, toxic relation ]

[ description: When the god of the underworld comes out of his caves once a year to admire his beloved constellation, he accidentally meets his niece, whom he has never seen before. Moved by sudden lust and desire, he kidnaps her, despite her despair and his brother's anger. Angst, sexual tension, dark and obsessive Aemond. ]

FULL CHAPTER

_____

"My mother told me a lot about you. About the sun hurting your eye." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly seeing that she was looking at his scar, at the stone placed where his eye once was.

He thought he was like Hephaestus, hideous, disfigured, and that she would never want him.

He felt his jaw clench tightly, his body tense, hard as granite when she placed her hand tentatively on his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of his robe.

He didn't know what was happening to his body, he felt tickling and tension in his lower abdomen, a strenuous need for some kind of relief that he didn't understand.

"Stay with me to watch the sunrise. Don't sink into darkness yet." She whispered as if in worry, and he couldn't tear his gaze from her face, from her warm eyes.

He was unable to comprehend how any living being could be so beautiful.

"No." He said coldly, and then grasped her in his arms, his hands tightening on her soft, hot flesh like steel tongs.

For a moment she couldn't make a sound, terrified and shocked, she didn't scream when he threw her over his shoulder and headed towards his underworld, cold, dark, damp.

It was only when she realised what he was doing that she began to struggle and cry, calling loudly for help from her mother and father, begging him not to do it, to let her go, that she would not tell anyone about it.

He, however, decided to follow his brother's advice and take a wife.

_____

Let me know if you are not on my Aemond Main Taglist and you wanna be tagged in this oneshot💖

[bucknastysbabe]

Docile - King Aegon II x Lady Stokeworth Reader

my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the king priest loves me so so much - @/rollercoasterwords

Rating: Explicit (read tws)

Tags: Dark!Aegon II, post blood and cheese, lady-in-waiting reader, past relationships, exhibitionism, dirty talk, TW: Aeggy Ain’t Nice, manipulation, emotional abuse, unreliable narrator, degredation, dub-con, it’s dreary at the keep, Aegon is very unstable, rough sex, pnv!sex, erotic choking, lights out orgasms, spitting, a wee bit sloppy, dacryphilia

A/N: Hey look I wrote a filthy nasty depressing Aegon fic. It felt great. Cheers🤨

Taglist: @aemonddtargaryen @lovelykhaleesiii @aemonds-holy-milk @sugarpopss @fairysluna

The cold throne sat with Aegon atop, broody expression upon his drawn features. The entire room felt lifeless and chilly. Not that it had been a warm place in what felt like years. Goldcloaks and the Kingsguard seemed to loom around every corner.

Heads were being stuck on pikes, Lord Otto brought 100 cats to the keep, and Helaena’s anguished wailing echoed through Maegor’s Holdfast. It was a dismal place. You and the other ladies-in-waiting of the mourning queen were rendered moot as of now. Aimless.

Aegon always held power over you. Since a fresh maiden coming from Stokeworth— the loyal lambs to the Targaryens since the conquest. That’s what he called you, little lamb, while chasing your skirts with that silly laugh of his. He took your maidenhead soon after, Helaena not paying any mind, oft lost in her thoughts or tending to the children.

You still felt guilt slipping about in the early days of the affair. Soon the prince grew tired of the passionate affair, finding the attention of whores easier. He had broken your soft heart at that grand feast celebrating kinslaying. He slurred, lips stained with strongwine and violet eyes glossy, “Lamb, I find this to be stifling. It’s probably best if you return to your duties.”

He had found another maiden to cavort around and deflower before everything when to shit. Funny enough, you thought it was bad then. Aegon seemed to have all life drained out of his wily nature after the horrid incident of his son. He was somber, drunk, raging. Wouldn’t see Helaena and seemed to prefer drink over the company of others. Too dangerous out on the street.

A guard nudged you out of the spiraling thoughts, bringing your gaze up to darkened eyes regarding you at the edge of the grand throne room. Aegon called from afar, voice booming in the barren room, “I said come here little lamb.” Bowing your head in obeisance, two guards flanking, the sound of your heels clicking against the marvel began to match the beat of your heart.

Now at the steps of the imposing mass of a throne you kneeled. Somehow felt in your bones it was the correct move. Aegon’s moods were sour and a tempest of late. He murmured, “Good little lamb. You Stokeworth’s were bred well. Come here.”

Gaze flicking up to his own— your mouth fell open. He wanted you to climb that monstrosity? Your heart beat faster, sweat collecting on your palms. The king sniffed, “Not very smart though, yes, get up here. To me, lamb.” He swigged his goblet and full lips curled just the slightest.

Taking shaky steps up the throne you felt as if you might cry, everything feeling wrong, the fear of being cut arising. Eventually a ringed hand reached out, Aegon’s fuller face cocking to get a look. Taking his hand, the blonde jerked you forward into his lap. You screeched in terror, eyes bugging at all the sharp blades.

Aegon’s laugh was a deep rumble, thick hands securing around your soft waist, squeezing and feeling. He hummed softly, “Just as I remembered. Meek little thing, pretty little thing, I’m not letting you get impaled lamb.”

Your eyes stared into his violet ones, tired and dull from well, everything. He looked away first, grumbling, “Turn around, I look a fright, only you ever got that. Sweet lamb. How foolish I am.” Aegon swiftly maneuvered you to sit astride his lap, back pressed against his softer chest and belly. He’d put some on with all the drink and stress eating.

He tucked his chin onto your shoulder, then moved to kiss and murmur, “I won’t let you go again. Lock you up if need be. Mine,” he bit a mark into your sensitive skin, “My lamb now. You’ll stay in my chambers. Poor sweet sister needs more maesters than ladies in waiting.”

A hand roughly grabbed your jaw, jerking your gaze to his. Aegon looked ravenous, eyes darting to and fro, licking his lips. He growled, “Open.” Your jaw lowered obediently, horrid shame crawling up your spine, heating your cheeks and cunt. He spat onto your tongue, still tinged reddish with wine. Your king smiled pleasantly when you swallowed, overwhelmed tears beginning to rise.

“Good little lamb, I taught you well did I not?”

“Y-you did my liege.”

Aegon’s hands moved upward to free your breasts, casually and uncaring, not like the room was filled with guards. Men who had seen you as a little girl. He groped and pinched at the soft flesh, giggling meanly, “These have gotten riper, gorgeous, how the guards wish they could have a piece.” You warred on whether to protest. But it felt so good to be coveted again.

Still. Everyone shall know by supper. Aegon wouldn’t let up, this you knew. He tweaked one of your nipples and the thoughts flew out of your head as you squirmed and mewled under his fingers. He laughed again, dragging his swollen cock into the soft velveteen of your dress. It was the same laugh he always had.

Just a little too high and sharp.

For some reason it dug in like the blades around you now.

His voice was a bit more ragged now, palms squeezing your tits on the side of too hard, moist lips frantically moving. You whimpered in pain, hand coming to his wrist to try to ease Aegon away. Aegon rasped, “I need you, ease my burden, take my pain will you lamb? Will you?” His blunt nails dug into your breast.

“Yes my king! Yes! Anything!,” you cried to make him stop.

Aegon sighed, fingers scrabbling at your dress, huffing, “Up, get it up, need you lamb, quit playing the shy maiden.” You blushed and helped him hoist up the fine fabric, tears welling up again as your cunt laid bare to the entire room. He swiped two fingers through your slit, collecting the gathered wetness, grinning wide.

“All that crying and you’re wet. Did you spread your pretty legs for another lordling when I stopped? Something to stop the ache I gave you hm?”

He luridly suckled your essence off those ringed fingers, moaning deep in his chest. Aegon pushed you forward, freeing his swollen cock from its confines, slapping the wet tip against your ass. He growled, “Hold your damn dress up,” he aligned himself with your soaked entrance, “I asked you a fucking question, dumb little lamb.”

Shaking your head once again, you sobbed out, “No— no! It’s only ever been you Aegon!” You shrieked in the sudden and rude entrance of his cock, stuffing your unused cunt in the worst kind of pleasure. The blonde stiffened and his hands shook at your hips, breath at a staccato pace. His voice, softer, murmured, “I- I can tell lamb, but you only address me ahh-as your king.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to your flaming cheek when you simpered, “Yes my King.”

Your cunt ached and pulled at Aegon’s cock, body alight with pleasure after so long. Closing your eyes, spilling more tears onto your heaving breasts, you begged for more. He snorted, “Get to it then lamb, show me how you used to ride.” He maneuvered your legs up jerkily, stiff prick throbbing deep inside.

Grabbing onto Aegon’s fine breeches, eyes darting fearfully to the blades so very close to your thighs, you picked up your hips in a slow drag. The king moaned in delight, gasping when you sank back down onto him with a filthy wet noise. It would only get worse.

Again and again you bobbed up and down his thick length, mewling and trying to hold down your sobs. Some of the goldcloaks watched with poorly concealed desire, the Kingsguard even taking peaks. Oh Seven above, you thought, you had become no better than those brothel whores.

Aegon finally began to fuck back, driving deep when your ass came down to meet his hips, drawing utterly shameless cries from your throat. He grabbed your throat and jerked you back, eliciting coughing and a choked sob. He licked up a trail of hot tears, groaning your true name deeply, squeezing at your tender neck. Brutally he forced himself harder and harder, a wicked burning sensation licking up your belly, your swollen pearl throbbing frantically.

You sobbed and squirmed, assaulted by all the emotions and sensations, the lack of blood flow to your head exacerbating the situation. Whimpering thinly, you pled, “Aegon, oh please- my king, I! B-be gentler!” He stilled his hips and stopped, throwing everything off center again.

The man’s lips pouted as he drawled, “You agreed to take my pain away from me lamb.” All you could do was stare with wide eyes, the picture of a scared little sacrificial sheep. Ready to have her blood smeared and sprayed all over. Aegon’s brow furrowed as he continued, “Remember when I took your maidenhead? How lovely you sang, you said you loved me.”

Eerie silence laid stagnant.

“You love me do you not lamb?,” his haunted eyes seemed to the ceremonial dagger, slicing you open for the gods and all to see.

“I love you, I always have.”

“Then hush and take my cock, I’ll spoil you later.” Back to fucking and choking he went, harder now, panting harshly through bared teeth. The noises of your coupling rose and rose to a fever pitch. His deep moans were pitching, rambling nonsense into the sweaty nape of your neck.

You were bent forward to his mercy, crying out on every deep thrust of his leaking prick. Aegon closed in on your neck, tilting you so to desperately mash his puffy lips against yours. He dominated the kiss as you fought for breath, writhing and convulsing. The fire was back in your belly, spreading upward and outward. Your former lighthearted prince ushered, “C’mon my lamb, my pretty little hole, wet your king’s cock.”

He let go of your throat to pinch at your swollen bud, the influx of air and stimulation making you see white. Hot hot white. There was the register of your howl and violent spasms, pleasure overtaking everything. You could distantly hear Aegon’s grunts and feel the inevitable load splattering the back of your once pristine dress. Imagination or not you could swear the blonde whisper, “I love you too.”

It seemed as you floated for a hours, minutes, seconds. Eventually blinking enough to see the open-mouthed guards and desolate throne room. You laid back against again, panting whilst the King seemed to be smugly preening. He spoke slowly, as if you were a dolt, “Do you need me to lace you up? Seemed I fucked any rhyme or reason out of you.”

“Please,” you sulked. Guilt and shame and remorse and love sickening filthy syrupy love crashing down. Aegon laced your tits back up and called to one of the Kingsguard, “Take the lovely lamb back to her quarters, you can open court now Lord Commander.” Criston’s dark eyes regarded you with revulsion at the doors of the throne room, the other knight escorting you on coltish legs.

You kept your head and eyes down being led away, the murmuring and gasps of the obviously defiled Lady Stokeworth circling around. While the queen mourned, her own trusted lady-in-waiting was off sating her husbands ravenous appetite. Bile rose up to your throat. You sat in Aegon’s darkened quarters, snapping at a maid to draw a bath.

Atleast you could hide from your shame in here. He seemed to care for you still after all. Even if he sought to make you just as defiled and twisted as he. You stared out the window facing the Blackwater, contemplating your fate. Long live King Aegon, second of his name.

[fan-goddess]

Two accidents and a coincidence

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x reader

Summary: Aegon always saw you as the same. Though certain events seem to change that view on its head…

Warnings: pervert!aegon, masturbating, kind of dom and sub talk with both Aegon and the reader, talk of sex, a hint of a corruption kink, exhibitionism if you squint? unconsensual mutual masterbation and just +18 content

Other links: My masterlist with Aegon content. Requests are appreciated!

1. The underwear

The first time Aegon cummed to the thought of you was after you accidentally flashed him. You still don’t know you did it. It was a perfectly innocent thing.

Aegon remembers perfectly though. He was coming in late to a lecture. 40 minutes late but whose really counting? He gave a lame excuse to the teacher and when he looked up to you he noticed you were wearing a skirt, and it just so happened when he was walking to you your legs were uncrossed, he could see your underwear perfectly. No tights, no shorts for an extra layer on, just a skirt and underwear. The underwear itself was branded into Aegons mind. It was a light blue, the kind you’d call baby blue or something weird like that. Still, it didn’t have any kind of printing on it but he saw a little lace round the edges.

It was what all he thought about when he next decided to make himself cum.

“Such a good slut for me! F-fuck yes little one, you ready to take all my cum like the good girl you are? Of course you are little baby!” He moaned as he felt himself nearing his end. All it took was the image of you bent over for him on his bed, still wearing those baby blue underwear and moaning loudly for him and only him. It took him three more tugs of his hand before his hot cum shot itself onto his stomach and hand.

He never felt guilty about the possible horror you could feel if you ever found that he was pervering on you. If anything it kind of encouraged him further. The idea of you, the innocent good girl whose never had a drink before being horrified by sight him jerking off to you, is something that got his dick more harder and much more quicker than at least half of the girls on the campus.

Maybe you’d even be turned on by it? He did sometimes ponder it, would your blue underwear be soaked at the idea of him pounding into your soaking pussy? Or would you be horrified and vow to never speak to him ever again? It was a risk he was willing to take, he thought as he found his dick growing hard once more.

2. The bra strap

The second time Aegon came involved another thing he found out about you by pure accident. Aegon nearly began praying to the seven when this one happened, he was hanging out with Erykk (or Arryk he could still never tell no matter how long he spent with them) in a random coffee house, but then you burst in wearing your bright orange coat Aegon can never help but mock just for the pure fashion horror of it. He did it this time, only smirking in the return when you roll of your eyes at the common now practically meaningless insult.

His eyes though were soon the ones widening, as when you took off your coat, your shirt came down on your shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. This mere coincidence nearly made him praise the seven then and there. Not only could you dress like a pretty submissive princess, a nickname he frequently gave you for your almost prudish nature he so secretly adores about you, but you could also dress like a real life whore. It instantly sent the blood straight to his cock, much to his dismay. It again didn’t matter that this was a once in a lifetime thing, many girls had accidentally revealed a bra strap before in their time no doubt. Yet this was you, the girl Aegon couldn’t take out of his mind for no longer than 10 minutes, and the one who made him cum like three times last night with the thought of your underwear alone.

Though while he had to awkwardly get out of the coffee shop hiding his erection which soon began to turn painful, he cherished the view nearly as much as the blue underwear one. He soon got home though , and even though he knows he could’ve picked up a random girl from campus to quickly fuck, there was no way they could’ve made him cum as hard he did did to the thought of you and the thought of your black bra.

Aegon groaned as the thoughts from earlier played in his mind on a permanent loop. Yes it was nice to think of you as his precious princess, being his good little girl. But there was the image of you in a black bra, just taking your pleasure from him and only him that stole his breath away in a unique way.

“F-fuck yes my lady just like that!”

It was strange to think of a woman dominating him, but definitely not an unwelcomed thought process. It was definitely working though, as the mere thought of you with your hand around his throat as you took your pleasure and bouncing on his cock made him cum faster than ever. It didn’t take him long to release all over him self, the clean up process taking longer considering how much he came. Though when he was down he realised just how bad he wanted to have you. How much he wanted to actually be with you. How much he wanted to see you cum on his cock and chant only his name. It was terrifying…

3. The voice

The final time Aegon found himself needing to masterbating and cumming to the thought of you was when he was staying over round your house for the night. One thing that made you one of the good friends was that you never hesitated to allow him to come into your apartment when he needed somewhere to sober up.

It was one of the things he really liked about you. You never tried to give him the whole, ‘you’re gonna become an alcoholic’ speech and telling him to quit it all together, instead you helped him to just instead cut back instead of cutting off altogether. It was like you were a simple breath of fresh air in a greenhouse where the door hadn’t been opened in hours.

Still, Aegon was lying on your couch sporting a massive hangover. He’d only been asleep like an hour or two, finding himself waking up with a weird craving for milk so he walked to the kitchen to get him a drink. The thing is though, is that your room is between the living room and the kitchen. So when he walked past your room and hears noises from inside, his sudden craving for milk goes away in an instant.

“F-f-fuck Aegon!” The words make him stop in his tracks. “Oh fuck yes please sir please!” Aegons hands almost instinctively go to his rapidly hardening cock and begin to palm his erection. His heart only beats faster when he sees a crack in the door and peaks in and sees you, with your pyjama shirt unbuttoned and one of your hands palming your own perky tits, and your other hand inside the layer of your pyjama shorts.

Aegon again nearly finds himself praying for the seven in that moment. The last couple of weeks have been filled with views aegon never would’ve seen nor appreciated if it hadn’t have been for those two small accidental moments, yet here he is palming himself off to the view of you making yourself cum to the thought of him fucking you. It was a dream come true.

His hands soon grow tired of just palming himself, so they venture into the tent that’s become his boxers. His trousers flung somewhere while he was undressing in his drunk escapade. He nearly hisses out loud when his thumb picks up his precum and uses it as a lube to thrust into his hand more efficiently.

Though as he listens more to your moans both of pleasure and of his name his dick is soon throbbing in pleasure and in need of release. He knows he can’t cum there cause other wise it’ll make a stain in his boxers, but at that moment he’s too far gone to actually give a shit. His hands go faster as your moans go more high pitch and the hand covers by your shorts seem to go faster. He likes to imagine it’s you whose jerking him off, though he knows his hand could never compare to what yours would feel like. Still at that moment his would have to make do…

Eventually Aegon drives himself over the edge, his free hand desperately covering his mouth in order to keep the deep moan of your name in as he came in his boxers. He almost has a panic attack when you moan his name a second later in a high pitch, thinking you’d heard him moan your name. Though when you simply just sigh after a minute and curl up back into bed, Aegon can’t find himself from sighing in contempt and going back onto the couch to head back to sleep, the hangover long forgotten about.

It’s amusing how in the morning when aegon is already dressed in his jeans to hide the cum stain in his pants you seem to almost be nervous that mourning. Maybe last night was your first time cumming to the though of him? A thought that seemed to spark a kind of possession in him Aegon never really expected. Or maybe you’d done it many times but it was the first time you’d done it when someone was here? Which if that was the case, maybe you’d left the door open? In a way to invite him in and let him know you wanted to be ravaged like a little slut. It was making him smile widely as he saw you ask nicely why he was smiling.

It nearly made him burst out laughing when you begged to know what was so funny to make him smile. He kept the whole thing from you though, finding pleasure in your confusion. Though after the show from last night and the small accidents that have been happening, Aegon knows one thing for sure. He’s gonna take what he’s owed.

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them lmao - dubious consent, canon typical violence, lack of Jacaerys, death, blood and gore, Aemond - who forces the reader into holy matrimony in this one (oh yes it's happening), and of course engages in petty masturbation (it's not THW without him going ham on his own hand ♡)

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

Author's Note: Low and behold, part 4 is here!! Originally, this was supposed to be a 4 parts series, but that obviously isn't the case anymore. THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY - I had major issues with the tag list, and at some point, tumblr wouldn’t let me post this; I unfortunately couldn't solve those problems, no matter how hard I tried, so most of you haven't been properly tagged :") This update is a hot mess, and I haven't actually had the time to read through all the paragraphs that I wrote. I SHALL BE BACK TO EDIT

A huge thank you to everyone who's still following the story, though, and I hope you enjoy!

A war is in its midst.

When everyone else is readying themselves for the following decisive battles, you and Aemond are busy playing house.

Things get heated in Harrenhal, and one must decide when and where to pick their side.

The contact of the hot water upon Aemond’s ivory skin made the man shudder in naught but blinding pain. Achingly slow movements, followed by slow grunts echoed throughout the room – and Lady Tully stilled upon the silken sheets, moving her eyes over the book’s page for the thousandth time since he returned; thus driving all her peace away.

The baths Aemond determinedly took in the raptures of the late-night hours never failed to make her uncomfortable, and keep her on edge. Even so, being forced to hear the pained man move with such little stability and lack of confidence almost teetered the girl to the brink of madness.

Harrenhal had been in shambles since its proud conqueror beckoned his return on dragon back that very eve. Two young maids shouted for maesters, and Alys Rivers nearly caused a scene. As he got off his leather saddle, the Prince all but collapsed from tiredness and blood loss.

'He commanded his features to turn brave and taciturn,' his paramour had told her, 'as to not let a single hint of his condition spread throughout the Keep. My poor Aemond.'

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

An impressive feat, one had to agree – and wonder further on the identity of the courageous shot.

‘Struck right between his shoulder blade and chest,’ she had heard some lost girl utter, ‘It is a miracle he’s still alive.’

… Or the Gods’ cruelest punishment, the Lady compelled within her thoughts.

“Mmhh…” Aemond’s rugged breath deterred the girl to raise her glassy orbs from the confinement of the wilting pages. She schooled her eyes to stay above any level of indiscretion, and gingerly followed the trail of blood mixed with dirt, that seeped into and dirtied the once clear water.

Now that her curiosity was quenched, she could freely look away again.

Half a heartbeat later, she relented and surrendered in the face of his quarrelsome state. The Prince bit the inside of his cheek again, and raised his hand up to allow droplets of liquid to trail past his wounded shoulder… but to no avail.

“You could call in a maid, you know.” Her raspy voice descended upon his struggling body. Sooner than she may have liked, the Bliss of Riverrun closed her eyes, and concentrated on the languid noises that the Prince was making.

Seconds felt like pending minutes, until Aemond One-Eye graced her with a reply.

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

Then that was that, the young woman soon concluded, returning her attention to the opened book.

'The Philosophies of the Riverlands', however, provided little to no aid to the situation at hand – and her overall station.

For she knew, perhaps far too well, that she had to play a different game than the one they'd engaged in, months prior to her imprisonment in that cursed place.

Insufferable man… she vexed him cruelly inside her head, I hoped by now you would be dead.

She raised one leg from the mattress that embedded her, and shifted it, so as to allow her limbs to hang lowly by the edge of the bed. Her thoughts formed and went as they pleased, but the girl settled on one final reach.

He hadn't even allowed Alys to help him undress. Suggesting her now was a deliberate waste of her time.

Not only that, but she still had to win his trust. Somehow, she promised herself, no matter what it takes, she'd do it.

Forcibly she rose from the bed, and made her way slowly towards his wide basin, fixating her eyes on the stone floor ahead. Her throat closed in on itself, and the girl pursed her lips into a tight line, whilst exhaling through her nose. It took a while for her to calm herself.

"... What about me?" She asked in a leveled tone.

Her gaze met his piercing orb, and the Lady nearly took a small step back. His face long washed the wave of shock from his sharp, Targaryen features – Aemond awaited her next words with a quirked up brow and a slight bite o'r his inner cheek. He seemed more than interested in her meek suggestion.

His wordless approval had left her speechless and, for a while, only her heartbeat emerged in her ears.

The Prince Regent trailed his eye hungrily over her extended arm. He took in a sharp breath as she grasped the rough sponge from his hand, and drained it of the putrid smell. She confidently brought it up to him – and teasingly trailed it over his hard chest, down to his lower abdomen, up again to his slouching shoulder.

"This… will hurt you a little bit." She whispered to him, skillfully averting her face from the man in question.

He gritted his teeth harshly, and almost let out a groan from his parted lips – with his dexterous and long fingers, he gripped the edge of the wooden basin, but dared not to look away from the kneeling Lady – choosing, instead, to focus on singling out her every soft and hard feature.

On her end, (Y/N) dabbed the piece of cloth over his wound gently, chanting inside her head to remain small and taciturn.

He shan't get more of a reaction from me, she promised herself through the span of an agonized huff, as she focused in on the task at hand.

Aemond's white skin revealed itself from the washed patches of dirt, and the Prince sighed a deep breath of contentment, as he felt his body be unintentionally caressed by her. His eye fluttered close, and a slight furrow of his tantalizing brow indicated the uncommon pleasure he took from their sporadic intimacy.

The two remain in awkward silence - the only noise that reached the girl's ears being the rattle of water and the occasional hiss from Aemond.

"... I'm sorry." She strained herself to whisper, whilst her hair fell seemingly out of place. "This looks as if it's painful."

The Prince Protector mirrored her stance, and glanced at her through the thick curtain of long, silver hair – the lilac in his eye complimenting the heatwaves of fire that danced across his marred skin.

"It's not painful." His gruff voice echoed in reply.

"... You –" The Lady began, but stopped on her tracks to level her voice again, by the aid of coughing in the back of her hand.

"You don't have to pretend in my company, you know."

She graced him with a forced smile, one she hoped seemed light enough to fool him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't make fun of you."

Her eyes trailed over to the harsh stone floor, wrinkling at their sharpened ends – "When I was three and ten," she began, "My youngest brother betted against one of the stable boys: that he could ride faster than anyone on his horse, Middle." Her eyes spasmed close at the memory, and the girl wistfully smiled to herself, "The fool scraped his knees in that dreadful race. Middle threw him right out of his expensive saddle."

As she spoke, she brought the rough cloth over Aemond's shoulder blade, right above his wound, and began scrubbing the dirt that adorned over his skin.

"He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, so he made me clean it, in the stead of a maester." The Lady let out an airy laugh, as her nose scrunched up with a pang of fondness. "I have never seen a boy get so worked up over a simple scratch before."

Aemond hummed in admission – half relieved by the distraction she was offering, and half worried by the impending pain he would soon feel. He shifted from inside the basin, as if to reach for the sponge in her hand himself, but the girl simply laid her hand away.

Her musings came to an abrupt end. She retreated on her steps lightly, and offered the Crown Prince a quirked-up brow.

"You need to stay put, Prince Aemond. Otherwise, I risk causing you more harm than good." She swallowed thickly, and only shook her head, "Your wound needs thorough cleaning, Your Grace. And it is too far in the back for you to clean it by yourself."

She glanced at his face anew, and let out a tumbling sigh as he nodded his head again, trying his hardest to relax into her touch once more.

Part of him remained put up – the bulk of his chest and shoulders still gloriously hunched over, ready to bolt up at any given moment.

"... I hate to admit it. I thought he was exaggerating then – with the discomfort which he feigned was feeling."

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as she glanced quickly at the laying man, "But how can one make fun of another's state of pain?"

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

Her eyes softened in admission to his furrowed brows and descended features. In that exact light, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled her Jace.

"Pain makes us human. And it's a reminder for us: to really cherish our times of incandescent joy."

The break of a cold sweat kissed over Aemond's forehead; droplets of which gathered at the base of his left eye, where his leather eyepatch stayed secured.

The girl pushed down a disdainful puff, as her eyes trailed him over, from the rosy blotch of skin, back to his hawk-like eye.

"Leather retains heat." She murmured before she could catch herself.

The Targaryen Prince expelled a deep breath, and, as her hand came to rest over the buckle that secured his patch into place, he primed his lips into a downturned arch.

"It can't be good for you to always keep it on."

"The sight of it frightens others. I don't want it to frighten you."

"I've seen you without your eyepatch before."

"That was different. This time… is different."

The latter of his words sent a shiver down her bent spine. Nothing is different, she was aching to say. Her lips pressed anxiously together, and the girl offered Aemond a curt nod. Just as she was about to pull her hand away from the nape of his neck, the Prince's wet palm came up to stop her.

His fingers shakily entwined with hers. The deep callouses of his hand scratched the softness of her open palm.

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

(Y/N) came to avert her gaze, but Aemond's eye feverishly searched for the relieving clash of hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the Lady of Riverrun nearly choked onto the clogged-up air.

His silver locks curled slightly at their ends – the dampness of the room striking its claim over his perfectly straight strands of hair. In his own right, Aemond could be called beautiful. His striking Targaryen features might have ensured the favor of many young maidens, were it not for his rash and impetuous attitude, the bite that rested in his character – which no doubt spread like a disease over his life at Court.

"Look at me." Against his better judgment, and his innermost turmoil, Aemond allowed her small fingers to trail over the buckle of his blinder again. He drew out a comforting sigh, and, with her hand still in his, gently slid the leather off.

He sucked in a quiet breath, as the coldness of the air enveloped his throbbing eyelids.

The poise in his composure was cracking at the seams, with the passing of each second, during which she settled to remain silent.

Eventually, her hand came to rest over his face again. Her dexterous fingers began to leisurely wipe the sweat from his brow, his eye, by submerging them into the lukewarm water, and bringing them over and over to his clenched face.

"I'm sorry." She settled on to say instead, once the breaching of kind words failed to meet her. "No one deserves to be left without an eye. No one deserves such appalling cruelty."

"You appear to be sorry an awful lot this evening, My Lady." Aemond choked under his breath, taken aback by her gentle movements and sainty utter.

"I spend the better part of my days in the company of my own thoughts." She huskily reminded him, "... It's been increasingly easier for me to reflect on my past mistakes."

Wordless from her hoax admission, and desperate to feel her hands explore him further, the Targaryen Prince rose heavily from the dirtied water – his chest coming directly to her field of vision.

The girl let out a cutting gasp, as she turned swiftly on her heel, refusing to glance at his modesty, not any longer than she'd already had.

Her eyelids fluttered close, and she shifted from one foot to the other, but to no avail. For in spite of her desire to run away, the Lady found herself hammered in place.

The proximity between them laid out to be a problem – Aemond let out a frustrated sigh, and turned her head around with the clasping of his untouched arm. Two of his fingers came to rest at the base of her cheek and chin; the Prince let out a satisfied hum, as her body trembled in slight shock at their change of position.

"Gevie…" He muttered to no one but himself.

His cock stood proudly at attention, kissing over his prominent abdomen, trailing long past his belly button. Every now and then, white pearls pooled to the base of his length, weeping from his angry tip, trailing past his stones in the reach of the water below him.

"Look at me." He breathed again, and his sweet Lady obeyed.

She threw him a dejected look: half harsh and cold, half hardened and scorned. The tips of her ears matched the redness of her pale cheeks. Her eyes cast their curious glow throughout every corner of the room, yet stayed away from the scorn of indiscretion that called out to her, only centimeters below her swollen lips.

Aemond's thumb flicked once over her crimson labium, but the man sighed, seemingly discouraged, and settled upon gripping her dainty wrist instead.

"Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda."

The gentleness that oozed from his voice could have had anyone fooled. But not her. The translations of the words he muttered against the skin of her wrist were lost on her, but the Lady of Riverrun still singled out a most protruding word.

He had never failed to call her 'his tormenting love'.

The girl's breath rose and fell with each agonizing word that befell over her face.

"Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa." Aemond sighed against her wrist.

'I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin.'

Her words rang harsh and true inside her head – and, much like it was back then, her heart harbored no honorable intent towards the Trident's Terror.

He burnt your entire homeland, she chastised herself harshly, He killed thousands. Every day, even more find their end by the breath of his dragon. By the way of his wrath.

The ache in her heartbeat rang loudly inside her ears – her every pore aligned with her wish to run away, and her mind was screaming at her to retreat to a corner.

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

"Let's… just finish getting you cleaned up, Your Grace" She struggled to finally suggest out loud, through the timid inflection of her outwardly calm voice.

She slithered her face away from his grasp, and began draining the sponge of the dark mud again.

Aemond sighed, and lowered himself back into the cold water – his lone eye never leaving the mould of her smaller frame.

"I heard that conversation… sometimes distracts the ill from the discomfort of the cleaning process, Your Grace."

Now turned to his exposed back, the girl's hand wavered over his punctured shoulder. She waited three, perhaps four seconds, before her arm finally breached contact with the wounded flesh.

Aemond took in a sharp breath, but remained otherwise silent, until she prompted him to speak again.

"How… how did such a thing even come to happen?"

Aemond's chest rose and fell with each labored pant. His eye remained tightly closed, his jaw awfully set. Her question registered into his mind, and a reply formed at the former base of his thoughts.

For a while, however, the One-Eyed Prince remained quiet – weighing the option of telling her the truth rather carefully.

"A Frey company was marching South." He hissed as her light hand came over his flesh, applying soft pressure in its wake. "The fog of the morning masked them from me – but Vhagar's shadow still went right above their heads."

The woman brought her free hand to rest over his lower back, and her fingers rubbed soothing circles into the dampness of his skin. "It was… very lucky that you didn't get more hurt."

She scorned herself inwardly, but kept her curiosity at bay. She wouldn’t ask him whether the company had risen victorious, or if he burnt all those men to the ground.

The latter option, in any case, seemed more than likely.

The Crown Prince tensed visibly, but didn’t scoot away from her soothing touch. A deep sigh parted from his cracked lips, and the man revelled at their sudden closeness.

He ached to talk to her, to plead with her to welcome him inside her heart – and into her bed. He could feel his own beat loudly, and his body trembled in unquenched lust and rage.

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

Not once during their rash acquaintance, did the girl before he talk with so much interest about his day with him.

His thoughts trailed to Alys, and Aemond wondered if half her new admission was owed to her – if indeed the two women secured a friendship within the last two weeks, if his whore became her confidant, if she breathed in her trust in him.

He would have to talk to her later. Thank her, if he was feeling apt and generous.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in the shell of his ear, and the Targaryen Prince nibbled at his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down; the coldness of the water gave him the strength to concentrate, by the sliding of small ripples down his exposed chest and abdomen. The ache of his wound was a small price to pay, if only to feel her knuckles working against his back.

"There we are. All done, Your Grace."

She rose up from her kneeling stance, wincing at the sudden change of perspective, and at the throb of her tired knees. She gingerly presented the clean set of clothes and bathing robes to him. Her head remained turned to the side, and her hand instantly let go of the heavy clothes, the moment his palm came into contact with them.

In the stead of returning to sit idly by their resting place, the woman graced him with a final look, and let out a faint mutter. "I'll leave you to it."

She wavered but a moment, and turned her stare to the ruined clothes; the ones that Aemond had so carelessly discarded on the floor, as he prepared for his undeserved nightly soak.

The shadow of a long-laid plan gleamed beneath her silent gaze.

"I can wash them for you tomorrow – after my bath. It might be wiser to keep the nature of your wounds hidden. The maids needn't worry over how much blood you lost."

Aemond's brows furrowed in slight shock, and the Prince remained wordless in the face of her sensible suggestion.

And yet her eyes spoke with so much sincerity, that he gleefully allowed the pang of hope to warm his unforgiving features.

"As you wish." He rumbled out, while forcing himself to move his stare to the folded clothes before him.

His eye trailed back to his hands' agile ministrations, and Aemond soon began to roll over his linen breeches, covering his half-hard cock with the help of the rough material.

A throaty groan etched from deep within his throat, however, as he reached for the pristine shirt.

The girl stopped in her tracks, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

The struggle he was undergoing would have been music to her ears – were it not for the solidarity of her position. For the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of her plan and her desperation to escape.

Thus, unbeknownst to her own better judgment, the Lady compelled herself to seek him further.

Although her words failed to assist her, the way she gingerly reached, with her hand wide and outstretched, made Aemond aware of her pending intent.

Their bodies were inches apart. The girl sucked in a hurried breath, and neglected to exhale it as the oxygen hit her lungs.

Aemond was burning up – and whether that was from the lack of fresh air within the confining room, or the first telltale sign of fever, or her – he was lost on saying anymore. His weakened arm slithered into the sleeve of his shirt, though the pain was long forgotten.

And instead of focusing on his poised movements, his glassy eye ran hungrily over her face and hypnotic features.

(Y/N)'s fingertips grazed over the light material. Her tired eyes softened at the familiar feeling. The threat of tears beckoned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them all away in a hasty movement. Melancholy ate away at her, far more often than she knew was wise to allow.

Still she remembered, if only for a moment, the raptures of Jacaerys' warm embrace. And how, in the heat of summer, that very same cloth felt against her heated cheek.

They must have had the same seamstress, the same tailor. Of course, she thought to herself in a bitter manner, after all, they are both Princes.

… Were.

But if she closed her eyes, she could pretend – No, she chastised herself fully, such a thing just cannot be. And you'd be a fool to attempt to it.

The magnetic pull between them trebly pried the two souls together. And it would be yet another minute, until (Y/N) finally took a step back, opening her mouth to announce the end of her intimate task.

Her eyes fell on the stone hard floor, and she carefully turned her back around him.

The long waves of her hair shifted over her modest nightgown, covering her mounds of flesh with a slight shift to the left.

"I'm going to sleep." She pathetically uttered, as the warmth that emanated from Aemond's form not moments prior, still fell heavily over her slight frame.

Mechanically she gripped the satin sheets and engulfed herself with them – a slight comfort came over her, as the coldness of the unused bedding fanned gently over her scorched limbs.

Aemond remained stuck in place, and a heaved breath rumbled from within his chest. The red in his cheeks would have put both their Houses' seals to shame – For once, he was glad she wasn't looking his way.

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

And his Lady might have made it up: the dip at the edge of the bed, the smell of fresh pine and wildfire that caressed her in her sleepy state, and the slight "Thank you" that dabbled from her captor's lips.

“You plan to ride on dragon-back again? So soon?” The echo of Alys' voice carried her worry throughout the silent clearing.

The first rays of sunlight caught flame into her raven hair, lighting her features in such a way, that it accentuated her every perpetual scar and wrinkle. The fire inside her eyes could rival the one of a trueborn Targaryen, were it not for her strong outer appearance.

Aemond moved his body at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to throw the woman one of his usual vexing looks.

"Do you think dear nuncle will put a stop to the siege of the Twins, should the word spread about my condition?"

His cutting words rendered the woman speechless, and the Rivers witch simply clicked her tongue, whilst glancing at the green grass below her.

"War awaits no one, my dear." He asserted definitively, as he gripped onto Vhagar's long bridles.

The mighty beast let out a shaken roar, as Aemond winced once his wounded shoulder made light contact with her dark-green scales.

"Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar." He instinctively reached for her, and caressed her lower belly with one of his gloved hands.

At their calm exchange, Alys bit over her lower lip, harshly enough to draw her own blood. "You should stay." She managed to draw out, "At least a while – going in search of your uncle today, instead of tomorrow, won't make a difference to your brother's cause."

But her voice of reason reached deafened ears. For Aemond Targaryen was set on paying the debt he owed. The debt he agreed to take on, the moment his dragon clasped onto Lucaerys, swallowing the bastard whole.

"Everything matters at war, Alys." He hummed impatiently, while snapping his head in her general direction. "What do you think will happen to you, should Daemon reach Harrenhal? Your pretty head will rest near mine, impaled on a sharpened spike."

But if she told you to stay put, you would do just that, wouldn’t you? Her bitter thoughts chewed her conscious away.

Alys spat out a lowly curse, as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Daemon Targaryen was here once, not long before you. He didn’t kill me then."

"Because you didn't matter back then." The Prince Protector of the Realm hissed through painfully gritted teeth, "You were no one to him. You were a wet nurse who merely spread her legs for him."

The man turned his back to her, as he wordlessly bound Vhagar's bridle over his wrist again and again.

"And last I checked, your cunt failed to inspire him."

Her mouth parted in a silent protest, and her green eyes widened in partial distress. "Still I should remain in luck," She choked out through a breathless laugh, "for it has never failed to inspire you."

"You are perfectly right," Aemond's laughter was humorless and brash, "And it is because of this loose cunt that Aegon nearly lost the support of Storm's End."

The Prince spun around on his heel's end, and trapped the woman in between his hard chest and restless dragon. "Sometimes I think you cost me more than you're worth." He whispered calmly into her ear, while trailing his index finger over the sharp edge of her jaw. "For speaking back to me, I could have you executed."

The finality of his words drew her body closer to the ancient beast, and Vhagar let out a displeased grunt. Amusement pulled at the corners of his downturned mouth.

"Still you should remain in luck," He mocked her with an airy laugh, "I find myself in an exceedingly good mood today."

The back of his hand came to play with a loose lock of her messy braid, and the Prince smiled at her stance and her bewildered look. "But you've been a most useful asset, haven't you, my dear?" He obliged her with a teasing smirk, "Lady Tully responded well to you, hasn't she? Tell me," He paused momentarily, as he trailed his hands to the narrow middle of her waist, and back up again. "Have you kept up your training with her?"

Alys' face fell into a frown, as she staggered a frustrated look. Aemond was toying with her.

"That dull book she pretends to read at night has the maps of three secret passages hidden amongst the latter pages. Two of them lead to that cell into the West Wing – but of course, she doesn't know that. The third one leads to the stables of Harrenhal."

Aemond hummed pleasedly, and the man soon took a wide step back, allowing his paramour enough space for proper breathing. "You did well." He smiled wistfully, "I should reward you well tonight. You may think of something you desire. I will see to it once I return."

"I would very much like you to stay and heal today." She urged him not a heartbeat later, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone.

Aemond's composure broke with the licks of roaring laughter – one that was empty, and fell devoid of any feelings of fondness or grief.

"Think of something else." He urged her coolly, and dismissively pushed past her, to reach for his dragon's saddle.

"'Tis a good thing you shall never be a wife, Alys. The role of the worried wench doesn't suit you one bit."

"Keep feeding her half-truths and lies." He encouraged the woman with a final reach over her hand. He squeezed once over her balled-up fist – acting as both a promise, and a taciturn warning on what should happen, should she let him down again. "Regarding whatever else she may have to say… you'll report it back immediately."

With that, the Kinslayer of the Trident took off, leaving the promise of bone and ash behind his dragon's menacing ascend.

The Eyrie was, on all accounts, smaller even than Maegor's Holdfast. Inside the stronghold nestled the Arryns, hidden deep beneath the illusion of the smallest stronghold of the main seven Kingdoms. Despite its intermediate size, the Keep of the Giant's Lance deemed itself one of the safest places to be – Hardly a lie, especially now, Cain Waters ineptly hummed, once his wobbly feet carried him over the stoney threshold.

Despite its less-than-imposing size, and lack of sheer volume, (Y/N)'s sworn shield felt himself smaller than ever before.

How would he dare account for his whereabouts? Reason his shortcomings?

How could he hope to explain to his Lord that not only did he return empty-handed, without his beloved granddaughter on horseback – he returned without the notion of a hand at all?

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, it was Mira Florent who rested loyally by his side – her strength and stability allowing the Waters bastard to lean into her, if only for a fleeting moment, during the ascend of the narrow stairs.

"Take heart," She whispered, "Your Lord is a kind and understanding one. You won't be facing trial for this."

His mere reply was a solitary grunt, and a quick smile, dejectedly thrown her way.

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, Albar had remained behind. The mute man shrugged his head decidedly when Cain gestured towards the waiting castle, and Mira explained to him that the Vale scarcely left him feeling safe and wanted.

And he understood, perhaps far too well – the feeling of dejection a bastard boy felt, as he stepped foot into the land of his birth.

***

He'd been granted the comfort of a Maester and a hot soak, almost immediately after his appearance at the Arryns' Great Door.

The Lady of the Vale proved to be a kindred spirit, capable of great nurture, despite her lack of heirs to her family's ancestral throne. She gasped loudly at the sight of him. Her eyebrows furrowed in grave distraught, and her lower lip trembled as the healers informed her of the state of his right hand.

Her searching eyes reminded him of the ones of his own mother – neither particularly warm nor cold towards him, but fair and just in their own accord.

She almost decided against calling upon him to the Trouts' Black Council, but the young Oscar Tully had entirely different plans.

His eyes, as they were, were socketed by a deep, but elusive brown. They spoke and reminded him of a whole different tale than the one of his fair, poor Lady.

And it was Oscar's eyes, so similar in shape to hers, who bore ghastly holes into the back of Ser Cain's skull. His arm rose up, as if to cut off the man's retelling – his nostrils flared up in disgust, and his face twisted into a painful scowl.

"So what you're telling me… is that you failed to bring her back."

Cain's eyes hardened at her brother's words, and the knight nibbled on his lower lip, in an attempt to calm himself.

Although a brave and honest man, he dared not look in the eyes of Lord Grover Tully – he dared not see what lay beneath his wilted face. Thus, all his attention focused in on the chirping lass.

"Aye, my Lord." He mustered up to tell him, "I lost her to the One-Eyed Prince. We escaped Harrenhal, and managed to get as far as the Saltpans, but –"

The boy scoffed at his attempt to pardon and explain himself. He nodded affirmatively, and scrutinized Cain with his piercing gaze.

"You returned with an empty hand, Ser Cain. You failed: miserably."

His back straightened in an attempt to appear bigger, and the hot-headed lass rose from his chair in a hurling daze.

"Because of you, my sister is in the hands of that cycloptic freak. Because of you, we don't know anything about her whereabouts. She could be tortured, enslaved, sullied – worse!"

Lady Jane Arryn clicked her tongue in disbelief, and beckoned her guard to guide the boy back into a sitting stance.

"That is quite enough, Oscar." She asserted calmly, "We have no evidence of such a feat."

"Of course we don't!" The young Lordling huffed annoyedly, jolting on the brink of madness, "The deranged cripple wouldn't reply to any of our ravens!"

His face contorted animalistically, the freckles on his face being taken by the deep shade of crimson that coloured in his plumper cheeks. "And with you here, Waters, we don't even have the certainty that (Y/N) is still alive!"

"Oscar." Grover's deep voice echoed a warning through the quietness of the tiny Keep.

As if struck in the face, the youngest of the Tully brothers shifted in his seat again. "My sister's fate is breached unknown," He cried out in a collapsing tune, "She's our family, grandfather, my only sister! Pray tell, why does it look as if I'm the only one who gives a damn?"

The graying Lord and the narrow Lady both leaned towards a perplexing look. But before any of them could reply to his laid-out challenge, (Y/N)'s brother urged them further, as he hissed through his gritted teeth. "It would have been better for you not to return at all, Ser Cain. It would have been better for all parties involved to have sent me in his stead, Grandfather!"

His shoulders slouched forward, and the brazen boy fought with Grover's intense stare. "Had I failed, I wouldn’t have even returned at all." Oscar roared over the silent council, proclaiming his intent with a defying raise. "I would sooner have died, than see her be taken by that monster again."

"What would you have had me do, boy?!" Grover Tully raised his voice in turn, "You fool. Would you have had me send you away for her? Do you think your death would have made you a martyr?!"

Cain's lips pursed into a tight line, as the Riverlords before him bickered further. Even Lady Jane Arryn seemed to be left speechless, unsure of when or how to stop their arguing.

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

"Do you think," His Grandfather uttered, "that if you were to die, anyone would remember you fondly?!" The red in his cheeks matched the one on his grandson's face, and the elder Lord broke out into a coughing fit. "Your sacrifice would mean nothing. And when the dust settled over Westeros, and the war was done, you would just be another casualty. Another body to burn in a communal."

Almost immediately, his eyes softened, and their deep creases faltered on his face.

The Lord of Riverrun grunted in fatigue, but still rose himself securely on his two able feet. He marched towards the huffing boy, and placed a wrinkled hand over his sweaty forehead, urging him to quiet down.

"It's not about glory, Grandfather." He spat out lowly, as his ears began to match his fiery locks of curly hair. "It's about family. Our family. It's about ensuring its survival."

The older man gave the lass a curt nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and turned to the knight with a downturned smile.

"There wasn't a knight more fit for the task than Ser Cain." He confirmed his judgment with a tired gesture in his direction. "He was knighted at five and ten. You are over your seven and tenth birthday, boy, and haven’t been even mirthed a squire."

Oscar sucked in a protesting breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall before him. His brows furrowed in a dangerous quarrel, and his blood ran hot. "Yet even with all the skill in the world, he still failed."

Lord Grover was losing his patience, "Yes, grandson, that he did! He failed, despite all the signs that pointedly told us otherwise – do you think you'd do an equitable job? When you haven't even once crossed swords in a Joust or Tourney?"

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

She whispered to her waiting guard, and the man took a step ahead, hitting over the chantry with the hilt of his sword.

The noise that erupted grabbed the attention of both grandson and grandfather.

"The turn of events marked by Ser Cain's departure means we need to readjust our plans." She commanded their heed calmly, "It is… unfortunate; that Lady Tully's sworn shield failed to protect her. Yet here we all stand, warming our bottoms on a mine of gold."

Cain should have been grateful for the distraction she was offering. All the displeasure surged upon him evaporated within the click of her tongue, and less conventional language – still, even he had to remain weary on the subject he opened.

"On a mine of gold?" Oscar spat out sharply, feeling his self-control disperse by failing him again. "My Lady, do you think my sister's condition is a situation of great rejoice?"

The Lady's blue eyes cut through the boy deeply, and the young man closed his mouth in embarrassment, before sitting down again.

She reached for the goblet of wine, and wet her lips with it, "Our strategical situation couldn't be better. Not once have we had a spy of Harrenhal successfully return. In truth, we didn’t even think it possible." Her lithe hand pointed towards the bloodied knight, and her eyes glimmered in mischief, "Yet here stands our living proof."

She elegantly rose from her ivory throne, and signaled the man to take a seat at the bent table. As he gingerly followed her lead, the woman spared him with a kind glance, and met his glance with her deep azul gaze.

"From what I gather, you spent the better part of a month undetected in the Strongs' Keep. Is that true?"

Cain nodded stiffly, and rested his bulky hands over his tired knees. "Yes, my lady. That I have."

"And you were knighted at fifteen?" She alluded to what was early spoken.

"Yes, my lady."

"By Lord Hunter Redwyne." She urged him to clarify, through the edge of a quirked-up brow, and the callings of a small smile pulling at her dusted lips.

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

Lady Jane hummed, seemingly satisfied by his short answers. She turned her attention to Lord Grover and his tiresome grandson, and merely asked Ser Cain again.

"And you faced the Kinslayer in combat, cut by a Valyrian blade, and lived to tell the tale?"

"... Aye, my lady."

Oscar's eyes remained unyielding. But Grover Tully glanced at the man before him, and offered him a wordless bow.

"Tell me, Ser, how would you like to command your own battalion?"

"You have to be patient." Alys chastised her deeply, as her luring features turned from flaccid to sharp. "Hardly enough time has passed since your last attempted escape – Aemond is still very much on edge."

The Lady's eyes turned to her. With the bridge of her nose scrunched up, and her fair features molded into a desperate plea, the girl looked more like a lost child, than an able and resourceful Lady.

Alys regarded her as such, and sighed deeply as she grasped onto her shoulders carefully.

"If I wait any longer, it'll be too late. I've already wasted three moon turns in this cursed Keep. I have to return to my family." The Tully spoke decidedly, leaving behind no room for arguing. She took a seat before the tiny mirror, that breached her modest vanity – a recent gift from Aemond, deduced by him to make her feel more like a proper lady.

The image that reflected within it looked at her like a dire stranger. The green silks she was dressed into, the pristine, braided hair that framed her pale cheeks perfectly; She was the vision of a flawless royal, a soft and polite maiden, untouched yet by the spoils of death and war.

'Would this be enough?' She asked herself desperately, whilst gripping the edge of her chair painfully.

Was this what Aemond had always wanted? The proof of her lack of autonomy, finally presented to him on a silver platter, as he returned from war every night?

Was he, perhaps, congratulating himself, every time he glanced at her, thinking himself master of the universe for making her arch and kneel?

Alys shook her head once more, and rested a hand over her bouncing knee.

"Patience is a virtue, Lady Tully. You needn't put yourself through any more unnecessary risks."

The Lady of Riverrun shook her head vigorously, finally snapping herself back to reality; Her actions were defying, and devoid of any capacity. Alys felt herself more confounded by the second. "I'll help you plan this thoroughly." The wood witch adverted. Her head quirked to the side in an encouraging gesture, and the girl nodded feverishly in reply.

Her green eyes widened in fair delight, and Aemond's lover lowered her gaze over the girl's book. "You memorized the passages well enough. Very soon, you shall put your knowledge to practice."

(Y/N) let out a tired sigh, and graced the older woman with a pleasant smile. "I'm lucky to have you, Alys" She played with her rings as she spoke, "Thank you. For everything."

As the elder woman finally left her Quarters in favor of bringing out the order for dinner, (Y/N) let out an aggravated groan.

Her long pretense would surely make her nauseous. But she would be a simpleton indeed, to place all her trust in Alys.

The walls preleened with the doom of silence. A cold breeze dug its way deeply into her spine, and the silent taste of passing and demise left a sour taste in her parted mouth.

***

Aemond began dinner as he wontedly did every day – praying to the Warrior to grant him strength in battle, to the Smith, to mend all that was left broken, to the Father, "to shine his light", and lead their souls out of the brink of darkness.

Each and every time, without fail, the girl would bring the pristine napkin to her mouth, masking the obvious way her lips would quirk into a most unyielding smile. His pious speech, and the way his hands painfully clasped together, begging for the blessing of resolve, made her scoff in blinding wonder.

Was he even aware of the words he mostly muttered? Did he ever stop to assess himself throughout the day, and realize the sin in which he debaucherously bathed in?

As his speech came to an end, the Lady preleened forward, grabbing a hold of the boiled-up stork.

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

"You've never been one to speak much during our time spent together." Aemond remarked through the rumble of a solitary hum. "Yet I had hoped this last week softened your resolve, My Lady."

Her eyebrows rose in slight discomfort, as her eyes focused on the leisure movements of his bigger hands.

So he was softening up.

She opened her mouth almost immediately, but her hesitant eyes danced around his blinding stare. Her plump lips pressed into a hard line, and she exhaled loudly through her nose, in an attempt to ground herself.

"Not at all, Your Grace, I assure you." The cluttering of her fork came to a hoisted end, as Lady Tully aligned her head to focus directly on the One-Eyed Prince. "I should love nothing more than to talk to you… Please, do advise me on what you would like most to hear."

She fidgeted nervously with her silver rings – a quirk she developed whilst imprisoned in the Strong's Keep – and gingerly awaited his reply.

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

The stillness in her speech and eyes drove the man effectively wild.

"Aemond." He stilled her faction through the reign of a distorted sigh.

She regarded him with a petrified stance. Her hands fell heavy over her legs in the wake of anticipation.

"... I-I beg your pardon?"

"Aemond." He repeated his name again, "We already break bread and sleep in the same bed." His lilac eye rose from his plate, and singled out her reddened cheeks. The man paused a while, as if to weigh his words carefully, and his cold, glassy orb, hungrily ran over her form. "It seems inevitable that we'd call each other by our given names. Yet you never once said mine throughout."

The girl could feel her throat dry up. While still maintaining his awkward stare, she reached for the glass of wine that rested by her left side. She wrapped her hand around its stem, and brought it to her paling lips.

The liquid courage slid down her throat in a quick, though burning manner, and (Y/N) had to swallow down an erratic cough. Her brows furrowed amidst, as she picked her words out slowly.

"I have called your name before, Prince Aemond. Many times throughout the moons, in fact."

He smiled at her perturbed reply, and shook his head in coy distraught.

"Not without the honorifics." The man clarified in a pleading tone, his voice growing hotter now. "... Just say my name." He sighed defeatedly. His hand gripped the edge of the table, silently, as the Targaryen Prince could feel his mind running with a thousand thoughts per passing minute.

The silence ate at him alive. She drowned the wine in a swift swing, and slouched forward to pour herself another glass.

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

Part of her wanted to pluck his eye out. Part of her wished nothing more than to make fun of him. Laugh, perhaps, at his desperate indiscretion. Do something – anything – to gauge a reaction out of him.

Any sort of reaction, that would make her pestering feelings for him leave her heavy soul.

Surprising even herself, adamantly going against her own wishes, the woman caught herself breathing out.

"... Aemond."

Unexpectedly he moved, by jumping to his ready feet, fully disregarding the oak chair as it hit the floor in a most perused manner.

The pang of noise alerted her, and seemingly, the guards outside. A while they remained in silence, listening in to the clash of metal that announced their unsure shifting.

But they wouldn’t come inside. The girl was lest aware of that.

As time pressed on, Aemond remained hammered in place, heaving out his weighty breaths and clasping his hands in aching fists.

Her eyes momentarily left his shadow – to turn again towards the poach of wine, and empty another glass in rapid gulps.

The heavy atmosphere inside the room hung lowly over their tired heads. (Y/N) resumed her mellow eating, wincing at the shakiness within her hands. She grabbed another piece of the boiled meat, though Aemond's stare soon made her drop it, and the girl clicked her tongue in disbelief; grabbing it instead with a piece of cloth, and securing it into a tight knot.

This time, it was her actions that had failed her. And perhaps it'd be her ready words that would prevail.

"Aemond." She spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The bitter liquor was burning her throat, her chest, her heart. She felt her limbs heavy – with both anticipation and frustration - borne out of lack of relief. She wanted to slap him, to hit him, to crush him beneath her feet.

She wanted to run away, to stay confined, forever inside this room, forever astute to what was going on in the outside world.

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

"Yes." Aemond encouraged her softly, and her attention came back to the raptures of the present tense. "There we go." He worded out, keeping his tone barely above a whisper.

Neither could tell when or how it happened – but Aemond's body was inches away from touching hers. The heat emanating from his beating heart washed over the meek form of the tipsy Lady. His Lady.

She gulped painfully, and the Prince could feel how his hands started spasming with the need to feel her. His nails bit the inside of his calloused palm, leaving deep and angry marks inside them.

His prominent veins shifted with his every faction. His face morphed into hopeful disarray.

"There we go." He repeated gently, "I want to hear your laughter. You never once laughed with me."

Her stare was hard to decipher. And yet confliction danced across her face. Aemond turned serious, and the stammering of his hands came to an untimely end. His eye bared holes into her reddened face; and the Lady humorously thought, if only for a moment, that it was a lucky thing he didn’t still have both his eyes. For such a stare would be embedded in her subconscious, bringing forth her swift undoing.

The corners of her mouth felt painful to bend and break. Shakily she smiled at him, and opened her mouth in shocked reclusion.

A shy laughter erupted from her unquenched throat, and the woman shuddered, surrendering the reins of reason to the drunken thoughts that sieged her.

Her laughter wasn't her own. The languid movements of her hands, that trailed over Aemond's chest, were not her own.

His finger came to caress her cheek. Her nose. Her brow. Her lips. Her mouth. The Crown Prince sucked in a dangerous breath, and secured his left arm loosely around her waist.

"Good girl," He spoke tenderly, his voice going from gruff to rough, "Such a good girl for me." His fingers combed through her messy braids, marking their swift undoing – taking a step back, he could feel the heat leave his head, in the favor of traveling lower, to meet the almost flaccid cock confined in the tightness of his pants. "Say my name again. Laugh again." He commanded in a pleading meowl. His lips twitched in anticipation, and his eyes trailed lower, lower still, from up her face, down to her soaring bosom.

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

A solitary look of shame was shared between them. Perhaps pushed forward by the only remaining faction of rationale, the two placed a step in between each other, but even that proved to be too fickle of a barrier to keep them whole apart.

Aemond reached to cup her face with his own trembling hand – on her end, the girl's digits trailed over from his high cheekbones, down to his prominent cupid's bow, in an all but gentle caress.

"Avy jorrāelan." He hissed through painfully gritted teeth, allowing his head to rest in the crook made of her shoulder blade and neck. "Avy jorrāelan." He repeated, the vulnerability in his voice making him lose the hold he had over himself.

"Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao." His feathered breath came into contact with her dainty neck. (Y/N) gasped lightly, as she felt the first of his many kisses being tenderly placed over her jaw and neck.

Her head was pounding, and her eyes were screwed shut, as the coldness of the wall hit her in perused waves. The impropriety of the soft moans and sighs that filled her ears to the brim left her confused and wanting.

The worst of it was that she didn’t know whether they came from her or him.

She felt as though her head was being harshly held below the water, and the girl clawed at her dress to loosen her tight bodice, which seemed to constrict even her erratic breathing.

Aemond's attention moved from her earlobe back to her lips. He felt how her hands contorted sporadically, and he placed his own palm over hers, to put an end to her hasty movements, and give her a sense of calmness. His fingers suddenly entwined with hers, as his form hovered above her. His throat etched with a lousy moan, and his mouth finally crashed with hers.

(Y/N)'s eyes opened at the shocking scene, and her lips suddenly parted, either to beg or to protest against him, but Aemond's hot tongue found entrance into her warm cave – deciding instead to deepen the kiss, and press himself further against her smaller form.

The outline of his throbbing cock molded against the shape of the woman's thigh, and the Prince Protector of the Realm let out a pleasured hiss, once her insistent writhing ended up brushing up his weeping tip. "Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa." He mumbled against her swollen lips, "Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī."

She let out a fatigued whimper, and swiftly turned her head around, putting an abrupt end to their meek and vicious pecks.

"What's wrong, hmm? Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir."

Aemond's lips were soft and tender, leaving behind an almost vivacious bite over her exposed parts. His pace had been filled with an animalistic hunger; the longing inside his eye caught her unprepared, and her lips parted with the desire to feel something – anything – that his palpable mouth would keenly offer.

(Y/N) shuddered with her eyes closed, and grabbed a hold of his long, white hair, leading the man closer yet to her swelling heat.

The way in which he held her should have felt so very wrong. But at that moment, the only thing she could do was extend her arm back up to him, and guide him with an insistent pull over his silky locks: encouraging him to bring forth his descent upon her lips.

She disregarded the way a figment of her psyche screamed at her. To stop her ministrations, to slap his calloused hands away from her. For if she kept her eyes closed, and focused solely on the shape of him, then she could almost pretend that the man before her had nothing to do with her beloved Jace.

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

Aemond's pupil was left blown wide – so much so, that the lilac of his iris could almost be left neglected. He wrapped his hands around the lady's thighs, and hoisted her up to meet him by his narrow hips. Both moaned into the other's mouth, and the Prince soon found his way into the raptures of the silken bed.

His heated cock kissed the outlines of her soaked cunny. Aemond sighed deeply over the arch of her neck, and pawed away at her untouched bodice.

(Y/N)'s hands rested still upon his eyepatch, and, with a swift and hasty movement, she yanked it off his sculpted face.

"We need to stop…" She moaned, defeated, and felt how Aemond's body stiffened up below her, as the harsh realization finally hit them both.

She had uttered the words aloud.

Half expecting him to blow out fuming, the woman tried to pry herself off his fevered body, but his hands reigned like iron shackles over the inside of her spreading thighs.

"Do we?" He whispered lowly, whilst leaning in to steal another kiss from her again.

"We shouldn’t." She strained herself to say once more, and Aemond nodded, still chasing her lips with his.

She melted into his reluctant touch, and hummed against his beating heart. His hands dug deeply into her resting sides; his fingertips scattered over her translucent spine, leaving their possessive mark. "This isn’t right."

"I know, I know," He gasped, "Seven Hells, I know…"

"Yn nyke istan zarvīzis," He pressed a finger over her swollen lips, "Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis."

With the last ounce of her strength, she bit over his lower lip, dragging a wanton moan from out of his rosy lips.

"Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa..." He chanted, while latched onto her burning sear, "Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī."

His High Valyrian had made her dizzy. And at first, she tried to pay his words her mind, she tried to grapple and understand what he was saying.

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

"You can tell me to stop," The words that poured out of his mouth washed upon her like a rippled tide, "You can tell me to stop… and I will..."

Her body quickly arched against him; her shaky hands came to rest over his hips. She laced her mouth again with his, expecting rough, dominant kisses – but Aemond's hands propped themselves loosely against her cheeks, his thumbs pliantly stroking her with untoward devotion. His single eye drank her in with reverence.

"Please…" He whimpered into her mouth, "Avy jorrāelan." He confessed to her, again and again, trying his hardest not to take her against the cold floor – and not fuck her straight into the messy mattress.

Her limbs felt heavy. Lacking their autonomy. The body she was nestled in still wasn't her own.

"... Why?" She asked him disdainfully, sporadically, as his index finger came to pry open her haughty entrance.

His eye widened in perplexed ruin, but the Prince soon stumbled over his words again.

That bastard Jace must have taught her the gist of that.

"... I wish I knew." Came his sole and sincere reply.

Just like that, her eyes welled with the threat of tears.

His hands, his hold, his voice, his mouth. It was all wrong. In truth none could ever hope to feel right.

Flashes of her old lover, of his baby brother – who was so small the last she'd seen him –, of her sworn shield came into view. All of them, gone as if they never were. All of them, with their memories trampled deep beneath her sprawled-out form.

She wasn't a woman of the Faith. Not after what had happened. Not after the spoils of war that she, herself, felt like angry whips upon her skin. But her eyes fluttered close, and she begged the Mother for forgiveness, whilst a tear rolled off her ticking cheek.

She brought a hand to her wobbly lips, and began to violently rub away any remaining trace of Aemond's presence.

She was disgusted. With him, with herself, with the world, with the image of her Jace – that surged in her mind the second she blinked, the moment that she jolted awake in her misery.

On his end, (Y/N)'s display of pure abhorrence failed to falter Aemond's lustful grief. Why, if she did not desire him, did she fall into his arms again and again?

Love was the death of duty. And longing was the doom of all.

"Fucking cock tease…" The Prince growled, grief-stricken, "How much longer are you going to give into me, just to push me away?"

His patience had been running thin. The ache in his breeches was long forgotten. In its stead, the urgent sting in his heart dragged the man into the pits of madness. "What is it this time?" He groveled over her closed legs again.

Her recuperation had been jovial and quick. Adrenaline replaced the pain and shame, and the woman tried to get off the bed, put as much distance as she knew how in between her and the ravished Prince.

For the first time since he came to be, Aemond would not let her escape his clutches. As she moved backwards, he persisted forward – following her wobbly feet throughout the room with the spare of his predatory eye.

"Y-You said –" She tried ceaselessly to accuse him. "You said you wouldn't –"

"And you're right. I meant every. Single. Thing. I told you." He growled into her frightened ear, as his hands came to cage her, trap her under the seclusion of the hard, stone wall.

"You're mine." He hissed desperately, as he clasped her jaw to face him. "You've always been mine, you fucking harlot. From the moment you stepped foot into Harrenhal, your life belonged to me."

Perhaps Aemond was right, and she was nothing but a harlot. A treacherous swine that hung onto whatever he could give her - so starved and devoid of love and warmth, that she'd dare to stoop so lowly with him.

Aemond descended his unquenched rage over her exposed neck, and began leaving tender love bites all over, in spite of her lackluster pleas.

(Y/N)'s head felt like it was about to explode. She felt sick to her stomach – the wine and the distraught both built up inside of her. All she wanted now was to be left alone. For Aemond's touch felt oddly comforting, and her tired eyes began to close. "You drive me insane." She heard him choke.

She wanted to open her mouth. To urge the Prince to stop; but her word hole was sewn shut, taken over by the grip of feared confusion. While his hand hoisted her up by the waist again, her hand went around him, to grab onto whatever she could find. Finally, she stopped at the dragon-glass dagger, that securely latched onto Aemond's waist. Effectively, she wrapped her fingers around its silver hilt, and sheathed it out of its confinements.

"I swear on whatever God you want me to, I'll slit your throat if you don't stop touching me –" She wailed into Aemond's form, as she felt him stiffen up in tumultation.

His nostrils flared up at her attempt to intimidate him, and yet… his face looked most serene, as the cutting edge of the dagger reached close to his ivory skin. She raised her brows at him in utter surprise; for she expected him to surrender. His arms snaked away from her, and Aemond watched her intensely with his piercing gaze.

She could kill him, consequences be damned. And if she faced trial for this, then at least she'd have taken out a Green and Vhagar.

Her hand was shaking. Her breathing became erratic. She'd held a blade on multiple occasions; she'd fantasized about cutting Aemond's throat more times than she could bring herself to count. And yet…

His lack of movement – of worry – rattled her endlessly. She wanted to scream at him, to push him, to cut him. But for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it.

The realization that she just couldn’t do it made her almost drop the knife from the tight hold she'd kept it under.

"Why aren't you the least bit worried?" She spat out lowly, with her body trembling and her jaw set tight.

Aemond remained quiet and taciturn. His eye fixed her face carefully, and his hand gently wrapped around her quivering wrist. "Come on now…" He whispered to her, and watched how her eyes filled with the endless tears of frustration, how the hot droplets rolled down her reddened cheeks.

It would take another moment for her to drop the blade.

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

"I fucking hate you." She hissed through a breathless sob.

Oh, how she wished to hate him. Hate him as she did when they first clashed swords. Hate him as she did when she heard Jace talk about Lucaerys' death.

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

And, just like that, the damage had been done. The blade rested back into his hand within an instant, and Aemond hit the wall behind her with murderous intent. "Fucking liar." He whispered again, breathing less and less sporadically, trying to wash his nerves away.

"I have been so good to you. But no matter what I do, it'll never be enough for you. Hmm?" He shook his head adamantly, and dug his fingers into the cold tiles of the cursed stronghold. "I am a patient man. But I will not wait a minute longer."

Her face twisted into a painful scowl, and the girl pushed over his chest roughly, but Aemond was quick to deny her exit. "This is not ideal," He muttered lowly to himself, "Yet you need to be taught a lesson."

"What are you d–"

Her words died upon her lips. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction, and immediately brought the blade into her view.

She let out a scream of pure horror, but his pliant mouth silenced her with a scorching kiss. Her whole body was shaking, and the Prince Regent let out a frustrated sigh.

"Cease your crying, you hateful woman." He chastised her cruelly, "The fucking Gods sent you to ruin me."

At that moment, she wasn't above pleading. Her knees wobbled in place, and her orbs frantically searched for a way out. For something to grip and swing at the man before her.

Aemond's eye softened at the sight of her. Despite the pang of guilt he felt, a teasing and self-assuring smirk formed at the corners of his upturned lips.

So Jacaerys hadn't told her. He never mentioned their Valyrian way to her.

His triumphant feat soon washed away, as her trembling hands came into contact with his. "Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon." He told her adherently, truthfully, despite the obvious language barrier.

He took a moment to regain his composure. Grab a hold of her balled-up fists and remember the ancient words he'd only ever read about in his history books.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

He ripped the sleeve from his linen shirt, and placed it over their entwined fingers.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sĩr. Izuli ampā perzī."

The blade finally pressed down, over the softness of his left palm. Aemond winced at the sudden pain, and made a mental note to only nick the frightened girl with it, when the time came for that.

"Prūmĩ lanti sēteksi. Hen jenỹ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozündesi."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened to a comical amount. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, she grew aware of Aemond's intent. She refused to show her hand to him, placing them both behind her back, and holding on for her dear life.

He let out a disapproving grunt, and reached his bloodied hands to her, yanking her right hand from underneath her strong grasp.

"No! No –!" She kept on screaming, and the guards outside shifted in place, before they fell under their oath of silence once again.

The cold and slick edge of the dragon glass pressed lightly against her writhing palm. Aemond made a smaller cut, and carried on with his rapid mumbling.

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

His very fist came to cut over his lower lip. His gory hand then reached for her jaw, hammering her in her place, and a sharp sting reflected on her weary stance. Aemond profited off the moment, to ease the dagger into her waiting mouth.

The metallic taste flooded her senses – the girl saw red before her eyes, and failed to register how his fingers came upon his and her forehead, painting them over with a ghastly symbol.

The Targaryen Prince reached for her hand again, and pressed her wounded palm cohesively with his.

"Following the tradition of my House from before the Doom of Old Valyria, I, Aemond of House Targaryen, bind myself to (Y/N) of House Tully, by blood, by soul, by life –"

"NO!"

" – And I pledge to her: that we are now one flesh, one heart, one body. Now and forever."

As he finally pried his limbs away from her trapped body, Aemond allowed his lips to feathery trace over her twisted mouth. She glanced at him, with wide-set and teary eyes.

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

She scarcely registered her own words as they left her mouth.

Aemond's eye widened at her query, and the Targaryen bit over his lower lip, as a deep grimace morphed the fairness of his features. He looked almost dumbfounded by her made assumption.

As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.

"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.

That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.

On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.

Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.

The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.

Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.

A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.

As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.

Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.

The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.

The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.

A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.

Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.

He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…

His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.

How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.

He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.

He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.

The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.

He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.

Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?

His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.

He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.

Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.

He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.

"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."

He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.

No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.

Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?

She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.

On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.

"I never asked for this. You must believe me."

She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.

"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."

Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".

But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.

Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.

The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.

Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.

When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.

Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.

If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.

Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.

It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.

When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.

Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.

He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.

In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.

Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.

"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."

"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."

And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.

"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."

Was he sorry for what he did?

"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."

Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.

"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"

Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.

The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.

"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."

The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.

"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.

As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.

She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.

Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.

She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.

Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.

The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.

She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.

Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.

There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.

She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.

May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.

Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.

***

The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.

With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.

For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.

Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.

With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.

And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.

Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.

A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.

Her relief would be short lived.

Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.

"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"

But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.

"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.

"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."

The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.

When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.

They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.

A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.

Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.

"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.

She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.

Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."

The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."

Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.

"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."

As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.

The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?

"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."

Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."

The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.

The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.

"My place remains here. By his side."

(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.

"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.

"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.

(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.

"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."

Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.

She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.

Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.

And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.

The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.

Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;

Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;

Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;

Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;

Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;

Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;

Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;

Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;

Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;

Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.

Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;

Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;

Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;

Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.

[elegantsplendour]

Of Blossom and Betrayal

Sunmary:

AU: Green victory, the realm called for a new queen after Queen Helena's demise

Seraphina Tyrell did not belong to the worldly realm of Westeros; a lone child conceived of loyalty, love and devotion. A beacon like her attracts the darkest of souls, in the darkest of times.

💌 Aegon Il Targaryen + Aemond Targaryen

Warnings: manipulation, abuse of power, mentions of rape, slight underage, explicit sexual content , dub con, violence. Specific warnings will be added at the beginnings of each chapter.

Unlike in my other two stories, Aegon in this story is CANON. Read at your own discretion.

Comments and reblogs make the author jump and dance like crazy 😜

Word count: 2.5 k

Prologue

Chapter 1: King’s Landing.

Taglist: @heavenly1927 @vhagarswar @queenoflys @sweethoneyblossom1 @valleyof-goldenlilies @watercolorskyy @purple-writer8 @femmechaotic @boundlessfantasy @jasminecosmic99

It has been almost a week since Seraphina and her family had arrived to King’s Landing. Leaning on the windowsill, her golden locks shimmered, kissed by the sun’s golden embrace filtering into her room in the Red Keep. The ardors of the journey from Highgarden seemed hardly worth it now, she pondered, letting out a soft sigh. Her intended, Daryn Hightower, was nowhere to be seen, held back by the sudden illness of his mother in Old Town, while Lyonel and Jayne, preoccupied with socializing and testing the waters of the new court, have confined her to this chamber ever since her the news of Daryn’s absence, permitting only Lancel to visit her.

Of course she had protested relentlessly. From the first day since she stepped into the Red Keep, her father had arranged their own guards to hide her while other ladies arriving in their glamorous carriages descended with the most luxurious of embellishments, giggling and gossiping about the king’s pageant.

Lyonel had warned her of not exiting her chamber unless absolutely necessary, “We do not wish you to capture the king’s attention.”

Her eyes lingered from the musicians playing in the garden where she spotted her cousin Cornelia Lannister and friends, who were laughing and sipping tea, to the smoky centre of the royal city, where mystery and curiosity peeked Seraphina’s mind. The Red Keep, with its countless chambers, had seemingly conspired to hide her in its most inconspicuous tower, transforming her room into a luxurious, yet isolating, sanctuary. Perhaps, she smirked, they were gossiping about the scandalous ongoing pageant. Even her, the lone bird locked away from the festivities, had captured whispers of the comical incidents, especially the one where her cousin Cornelia faked to faint into the King’s arms, where she was captured y Prince Aemond, leaving her to Princess Cassandra Baratheon’s furious gaze.

She breathed, captivated as her gaze swept across the meticulously crafted garden. Her eyes wandered through the garden, where a symphony of hundreds of flower species bloomed in perfect harmony, their visual allure leaving anyone who took the time to admire them mesmerized by their allure. Yet there was something about this place that at the same time excited and unsettled her.

Gone were the carefree laughs of her handmaids, replaced by measured, refined chuckles. And the gentle melodies from her homeland's distant fields gave way to the practiced compositions of the Red Keep's finest musicians.

It was undeniably exquisite, perhaps a touch colder in its perfection. Yet Seraphina always sought to find the beauty in everything, sometimes to her own detriment.

She smiled as her eyes found her parents, giving a subtle wave. Lyonel was deep in conversation with Lord Hightower, father to her prospective betrothed. Their amicable gestures spoke of mutual respect. Meanwhile, Jayne sent a playful wink her way. Lord Hightower, following Jayne's line of sight, offered Seraphina a warm nod.

A moment later, Seraphina sighed as she watched their figures disappearing from behind the trees.

Now, back to solitude, again.

She pouted slightly and rested her head on the other side of the elbow. That was when she caught the glimpse of the lavender gaze meeting her startled emerald eyes sharply.

Not one-eyed, short hair.

It could only be one of the only two surviving Targaryens other than the lenient imprisoned dragons, the two youngest sons of the fallen false queen, the King himself.

Her hands quivered instinctively, the intense gaze of the man her parents warned her to avoid at all costs was to her strange, dangerous and beautiful, just like the alluring garden of the Red Keep.

An inundation of emotions surged within Aegon as the enigmatic maiden with hair kissed by the sun, whom he had been pondering, locked gazes with him without flinching. A smile graced her lips – not a mere gesture of politeness, but a vivid and authentic expression, complete with small dimples that adorned her cheeks.

Aegon stunned momentarily as the Lord Hand Tyland Lannister greeted him and went on and on about how unfortunate the accident with his daughter Cornelia was. He rolled his eyes impatiently and interrupted his words, quickly returning his gaze to the window from the high tower. She was already gone.

"I have little interest in Cornelia right now," Aegon asserted, not even attempting to hide his annoyance. "Who was that maiden? Do you have another daughter hidden away from court?"

Tyland's brows knitted in confusion as he traced Aegon's line of sight. Another Lannister? Why would the king assume such? And then realization dawned on him. The woman must be his niece, the offspring of his estranged sister who'd defiantly married the younger Tyrell son. Who would've guessed that the lesser Tyrell would ascend to lordship after the unexpected death of Bryan Tyrell?

"My king, I have but one daughter," Tyland offered cautiously, crafting his words. "Perhaps that maiden is of Lannister lineage, but not of legitimate birth."

"In such grand accommodations within the Red Keep?" Aegon's voice dripped with skepticism. "Spare me. Find her. Immediately."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Where did you go today?” Lyonel, followed by Jayne, bursted into Seraphina’s chamber asked furiously.

“Father? What is it about?” Seraphina gasped in surprise, putting down her book, “Nowhere. I stayed as you instructed.”

“The king had requested your presence tomorrow at the ball,” the lord Tyrell swallowed hard, his tone serious.

Seraphina’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, trying to explain to her father what had happened and process the significance of this news.

“I saw him in the garden today,” she confessed and lowered her head, “Silver hair, violet eyes. It must have been him.”

Lyonel paced the room, his agitation palpable. His hand wiped the perspiration from his brow as he grappled with the implications of her confession. Seraphina had rarely seen her father display such vulnerability. She rose, her heart heavy with guilt, attempting to touch his arm in a gesture of solace.

Jayne stepped forward, her voice soft yet firm, "We'll arrange a gown befitting the occasion."

Lyonel, without another word, exited the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Was he trying to salvage the situation? Or was he evading confronting his daughter about her unintended mistake?

Seraphina stood in front the door for a long time after Lyonel departing figure. She sobbed quietly.

This wasn’t the first time she had put her family in this situation. She remembered how her parents, even Lancel, looked at her with pity and rage when she brought the two injured Hightowers to the castle. All she had ever done was acting on her instinct of kindness, simply in the way she had always been treated.

On the other side of the Keep, Aegon sipped from his cup, chuckling and gasping. His hand grasping the hair of the blond maid as she sucked him off eagerly. His mind wondered in the memory of that girl’s sweet smile, her adorable dimples. Her emerald eyes, of the colour he had associated with rigid rules and his family’s control over him, blinked with such purity and vibrance.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt himself getting closer to the edge.

The little maid is a skillful one, he smirked.

“Look down,” he growled.

Of course he didn’t want to see the whore’s face. He watched the honey coloured lock bouncing on his cock, imagining it was her soft and inexperienced tongue wrapping around his cock while her green eyes meeting his unabashedly with love, committing the most sinful acts with the purest of intentions.

“Good girl,” He patted the her golden lock. He frowned as he felt the rough texture of her hair, the one of servants and lowborns, dragging him back to reality.

“Slower,” the king ordered, “Pretend,” he laughed cruelly, “That for one night, you aren’t this pathetic dirty cock sucker.”

Aegon winced as he felt the one of the maid’s reaction to his words with her teeth accidentally grizzling on his member. He clenched his jaw in pure lust and fury, “Fucking forget it. Worthless whore.”

He grabbed her hair violently and pushed her head to his cock at an agonizing pace. Now, he didn’t have to avoid her eyes. Why would he now? He enjoyed her fear and helplessness.

A short moment later, he pushed her away roughly, causing her head almost dropping to the cold stone floor.

“Out.”

Aegon didn’t even bother to notice her whimpers as she quickly exited from his chamber.

All of his children were dead.

Aegon tried to not think of it, but the ghostly memories of their memories still haunted him.

Both Maelor and Jaehaerys brutally slayed. Blood grinned while being tortured in the dungeon, “A false king with no heirs. Will you make your bitch daughter heir? Pretender? Oh the irony.”

It was the first time Aegon killed a person. Aemond cut off his tongue while Aegon plunged a dagger in the rat’s heart.

Jaehaera followed her mother’s footsteps. Some of the whispers say that when Queen Helaena threw her self out of the window, the princess ran after her with tiny footsteps, crying, “Where are you going muña?” As the she took the final step to embrace her mother, she met the same fate as her.

He seized the half empty cup and engulfed the wine furiously, battling to bury the confused emotions inside his head.

If the gods gave him a chance to see his children again, would he take it? He was not sure.

He smacked the cup on the wall as the memories of the consummation with Helaena flooded his mind.

The rage of being played like a pawn by his mother and grandsire plagued him since he had turned ten and three? Maybe?

He had hated them, despised them even. The resentment still lives as strong as ever, but it didn’t stop him from relishing absolute power.

He had the power to take what he wanted, and he will take it. The Tyrell girl was not an exception.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The following day, powdered ladies gradually filled up the opulently decorated Great Hall. The omnipresent oppressive political undercurrent was now replaced or rather, masked by a seductive lavishness adorned by intoxicating scents of the finest foods and the rarest of performs.

There she emerged.

Seraphina, bathed in soft, radiant moonlight, like a fae of ethereal beauty. Dressed in a flowing gown of finest silver that captured the celestial light, her appearance was as though a star had descended from the heavens.

Her emerald eyes searched and travelled through the bewitching party.

There.

An enormous, sprawling banquet table laden with gleaming silver and crystal, groaned under the weight of exotic fruits, roasted game, and the finest wines from the far corners of the kingdom.

Here.

A soft murmur of violas and lutes echoed from the corner, where minstrels played enchanting melodies. The music was captivating, a symphony so sweet and subtle, it urged even the most reticent to sway. Nobles, dressed in lavish silks and satins adorned with precious jewels, twirled and spun in a beautifully choreographed dance, their movements as fluid and graceful as the notes that filled the air.

“Lady Seraphina Tyrell.”

Seraphina turned her head quickly and met the voice behind her.

Him.

The man her parents had warned her to stay away from at all costs.

“Why have you asked for me, Your Grace?”

Her abrupt question laced with softness and naivety caught the king off guard. Aegon chuckled at her audacity, placing a hand on her cheek, enjoying the pliant of her skin and innocence of her widened emerald eyes.

“I wished to know the beautiful creature who had the misfortune of being hidden away,” he breathed on her neck.

His hands started tracing on the delicate flesh of her waist while his eyes searched hers in amusement.

His brows quirked as she giggled, relishing in his touch comfortably. Her genuineness and purity laid her like an open book and a mysterious riddle.

As Aegon grew up, he never cared enough to read other people. And when he was crowned king, he was free of the obligation to read the lesser beings anyways. Everyone, from the lowly servants to the members of Small Council, racking their brains to deduce what pleased, angered, saddened or excited him. Yet at that moment when the Tyrell rose reached his hand audaciously while her emerald eyes blinking like an ethereal star fallen into the realm of mortals, Aegon desired to conquer, exult and own every inch of her angelic mind.

“Are you…” she asked, her voice sweet but firm, her pink lips curled and cheeks flushed, “Going to dance with me?”

Aegon’s heart skipped a beat, he smirked with an exaggerated bow, his mischievous smile making her giggle. "Might I steal the honor of this dance and perhaps your undivided attention for the night, my lady?"

Blushing, Seraphina hesitantly put her arms around his shoulders, “Only if you promise you can dance as well as my brother Lancel.

Aegon watched her giggle fearlessly, his throat throbbing with contained desire.

Seraphina bit her lips slightly as his silence, “Am I too forward, Your Grace?” She chuckled agin, her gaze still fearless and vibrant, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t behave as if I was around my brother all the time. I am sorry.”

With a low chuckle, the king seized her waist to the dance floor, “I have to admit,” he tilted her chin playfully, “I am horrified by the thought of you treating me like a brother.

Seraphina’s face flushed like an apple at his implication. She recalled when her mother spoke hopefully about her union with Daryn, honourable, handsome, courageous. Maybe it was wrong to be so intimate with the king while being so close to be betrothed to another.

Maybe it was wrong, but for that moment, she did not care. She kept moving, taking the lead, unintentionally surprising the lord of the Seven Kingdoms with her boldness, swirling the confusing thoughts away.

As the last note faded, Aegon rejoiced while Seraphina was oblivious to the jealous murmurs of the courtiers and their disappointed daughters.

“I had a delightful time, Your Grace,” Seraphina bowed, but barely, sweat from the dance glistening on her forehand like pearls, “I really do wish to see you again.”

She enjoyed the dance.

She was happy.

He made her happy.

The repulsive memory when he forced himself on a maid the first time. Her screams, fear and hatred that she could have only kept herself had made him even angrier. And he turned that rage onto others, again and again, simply because he had could.

He stared at her unwavering smile. So pure. He thought.

She desired him.

She appreciated him.

She expressed it fearlessly.

She was fragile yet powerful.

“Are you betrothed? Seraphina?”

“No,” She shook her head, biting her lip before whispering, “But father is speaking of it. Maybe… I will marry Daryn.”

“Daryn Hightower?” The king scoffed and nodded, a smirk on his face concealing the plans in his head.

“Wait.”

Seraphina pointed at the tall figure conversing with Princess Cassandra, “I’ve met him at Highgarden. Prince Aemond.”

“I was once supposed to marry him.”

[saltywritings]

Bend The Knee | Aegon ii Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You have been called upon at court to bend the knee to the newly crowned king, however, a surprising turn takes place when you bend the knee.

Warnings: Smut, Minors do not interact, male oral receiving, oral as a demand, adult content, slight female receiving.

A palpable undercurrent of terror unfurled its tendrils within you as you ventured through the hallowed halls of the red keep. The subtle cadence of your heels created a delicate patter, resonating against the stoic stone floors, each step echoing the rhythmic pulse of your heart, which had quickened its tempo within the confines of your chest. The ominous ambiance of the surroundings enveloped you, casting shadows that danced in eerie tandem with the disquiet settling in the air. The very essence of the fortress seemed to be imbued with an unspoken tension, as if secrets whispered among the walls, and the weight of history bore down upon you, amplifying the sense of foreboding that clung to the atmosphere like a shroud.

How could one not succumb to an overwhelming sense of terror while traversing the path leading to the throne room? The ominous summons from the king, directed specifically at you, added a layer of apprehension that hung heavy in the air. This unsettling journey unfolded in the aftermath of the harrowing executions, where both your brother and father met their demise for adamantly refusing to yield before the might of Aegon Targaryen.

The weight of grief and defiance still lingered, casting a somber shadow over your steps. The very air seemed charged with a palpable tension, the echoes of the recent tragedy reverberating through the corridors. Each footfall echoed with a haunting resonance, a morose rhythm that mirrored the throbbing ache in your heart. The throne room loomed ahead, its imposing doors a portal to an uncertain fate.

As you approached, the memories of your fallen kin and their unwavering loyalty to their principles pressed upon your consciousness. The foreboding atmosphere intensified, a testament to the gravity of the situation. The iron grip of fear tightened its hold, fueled not only by the formidable presence of Aegon Targaryen but also by the specter of the irrevocable losses suffered in the name of steadfast allegiance.

As the grand doors swung open, revealing the regal spectacle of the throne room, your gaze fixed upon the newly crowned king. Adorning his head was a formidable black crown, adorned with a radiant ruby at its center, a symbol of authority that seemed to cast a profound weight upon his brow. His dark, penetrating eyes met yours as he beckoned you forward with a commanding yet composed presence.

"Lady Y/N, come closer," he declared, his voice unwavering and devoid of menace. The resonance of his command held a magnetic power, drawing you toward him. The air in the throne room seemed to pulse with a peculiar intensity, as if the very fabric of destiny hung in the balance.

Complying with the regal summons, you gracefully approached the throne, your steps measured and deliberate. Standing before him, the gravity of the moment became palpable. The ruby at the heart of his crown gleamed like a beacon, a testament to the authority he now wielded. The silence that enveloped the room spoke volumes, punctuating the significance of your presence in Aegon's gaze.

"I ask of you what I have asked of all my subjects. Prove yourself loyal." Aegon notified you, his voice hung with authority with each word that echoed through the throne room. You stood before him; despite the loyalty that your father and brother had put their life on the line for you were not willing to die. they made their choice and you could be nothing but proud based on the honor they were willing to die for. therefore, you made your own choice.

You sunk down to your knee and looked to the ground as you pledged yourself loyal to his crown. However, a great confusion managed to overcome you as you heard a small laughter come from the king.

"Both knees, lady y/n." Aegon spoke with a certain chuckle to your tone. A great confusion engulfed your senses by his sudden amusement. Still, you complied wanting to ensure that you made it out of this room with your life. You now rested before him with both your knees flat on the ground.

"Come closer," he urged as you gave a small slide on the ground. Remaining on your knees he let out a groan in anticipation. "Come here," he let out an eager demand grabbing onto you by your waist and sliding you so close to him that your knees were touching the iron throne. You were between his legs, looking up at him with pitiful eyes as he smiled. It was only now that you had noticed the growing erection in Aegon's pants and the sudden blush that covered your cheeks.

"Open my pants and use your mouth to show me how loyal you are to your king." Aegon demanded of you, sitting back as he looked to you waiting for you to make a move.

"B-but your grace . . . "you attempted to struggle. "I am a maiden I do not know how to do such a thing." you suggest your voice stuttering in tear unable to look up to meet his eyes.

Aegon let out a sigh as he took your hands. "It is not hard to do. I will show you," he insisted grabbing onto your hands and pulling them to his pants.

He helped you open the button holding them together and brought your hand to the inside of his pants. His cock felt soft against your hand and was throbbing from the very contact you offered. Aegon guided your hand to pull it out and your eyes widened at the sight of his cock before your face. Aegon could not help but to smile at the way your eyes looked to bewildered at the sight of him.

"Now open that sweet mouth of yours," Aegon demanded, you complied without hesitation. You knew what was to happen next and you worried any lack of performance would result in the end of your life and therefore.

With your mouth open wide he grabbed you by the roots of your hair and sank you onto his cock. It was a strange feeling, to have one in your mouth. It tasted slightly salty and you could not help but notice the vein that was pulsing against your tongue as he sunk you onto him. He let out a loud groan of pleasure begun to sink back into the throne.

With this gloved leather hands rooted into your hair he looked at you with his cold eyes, biting on his lip as he begun to force your head up and down on his cock. You complied with the action, however, begun to gad the further he forced your head down. It was perhaps for a moment you attempted to wiggle off a bit to ease from the gagging but Aegon only took efforts to force you down further.

"Hush, Hush. Relax sweet thing that's part of it." He insisted to you as he continued to force your head up and down on his cock until he had balls deep, forcing your lips to swallow his entire length.

"Fuck- Fuck, you're so beautiful when you're swallowing my cock like that." Aegon let out in a groan, still listening to the wet sounds your mouth made as it engulfed his cock. His boots sliding across the floor as he attempted to hold out. But there had been something too good about the feeling of your mouth around him.

Aegon soon pulled you off his cock, watching as the spit that trailed from your mouth and down your chin connected to his cock. Aegon stood before you, his hand in your hair still as he forced you to look up at him. "Fuck, yes-" he let out in a moan again as his cold eyes remained on yours.

Aegon kept you looking up at him as he began to release. The only thing you could do was look up helplessly at your king as he begun to release his seed across your face, watching as it dripped down your cheeks and onto the fine lace of your dress. "You look so beautiful with my cum ruining your innocent face." He said with a smile. "Good little loyal subject," he took a second to praise you while he stuffed his cum covered cock back into his pants.

"Rise," He remanded and you complied standing to your feet, his cum covering your face, you dared not move. However, you were met with sudden shock when Aegon went to his knees, the king before you on your knees was certainly not what you were expecting and he lifted up your dress. Aegon was now before your clothes womanhood and he soon pressed his face against it, taking in a deep breath as his other hand held your back steady. You let out a small yelp and could not help the involuntary struggle.

"Hold still- you are still proving yourself." Aegon reminded you and you attempted to so, looking as his nose pressed into your cunt and he took deep breaths in. He let out a hum of approval as he pulled his face away and begun to pull your underwear down just far enough to expose yourself to him. Aegon did not hesitate, his tongue managed to do a swipe across the inside of your cunt and he soon let out another hum.

"Gods, you little whore. You fucking loved that. You're dripping wet, like a ripe peach." Aegon said, with his hands holding onto your waist his tongue went in again. it licked and sucked and while you found pleasure in it that was not his intention. No, Aegon was trying to suck out every drop he could. However, after a few moments he pulled away, pulling down your dress but leaving your underwear exposed.

"You are expected at my chambers at nightfall. I believe I know a few others ways to test your loyalty."

[squirmhoney]

ALL ALONE AT CHRISTMAS

Requested by @queenofthekeep ♡ Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader Warning: Smut. incest. Angst. Arguing. 18+ MDNI A/N:we’ve had a very late start to Christmas today. So even though I know a lot of you won’t see this, I thought I’d grace your Christmas Day with this soft smut❤️ Merry Christmas guys 🎄

“One job,” you shouted, throwing the tickets onto the counter. “It was the one thing I let you do and you fucked it.” 

All you wanted was to tear your hair out in frustration, not knowing who you should be angry with, Aegon for booking the wrong tickets or yourself for thinking that he could be given that much responsibility. 

Aegon’s lips opened, unable to get a syllable out before you were screaming at him again. 

“Don’t,” you told him, putting your hand out. “I’m stuck here for Christmas because you booked the wrong flight.” 

“We,” Aegon stated, standing up from his seat. He made his way over to you, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “I’m here as well.” 

You pushed his hands away, “Don’t. Just don’t.” 

Aegon’s face dropped at this, a frown covering his face as he retreated away from you. He was at an end with you, back to square one like he had been months ago. All the phone calls, messages and constant reassurance on his end felt like it was for nothing. Had he really spent months patching things up between him and you, just for him to fuck it up over booking the wrong flights. 

Yes, he had booked the wrong flights on purpose. But this isn’t how he planned things turning out, you weren’t supposed to get this upset. Well,  at least not in his head. 

*

Things couldn’t get any worse, until they did. 

Christmas should be spent with your family, not just with your older brother. Especially not one like Aegon. To add to your Christmas nightmare, the power had cut out in Aegon’s apartment, leaving you both curled up on the couch wrapped under an array of blankets trying desperately to keep warm. 

“You can get a bit closer,” Aegon said from the other end of the couch. 

You were shivering, trying to hide your chattering teeth by biting down on your t-shirt. Even with how cold you felt, goosebumps covering your skin, you didn’t want to let him know that. 

“Seriously, you’re freezing over there.” 

In the candle light Aegon saw your eyes look up at him, narrowing your eyes at him with a coldness he had only seen once before. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Like what?” 

“This distance between us, not just physically but in every way shape and form,” he snapped out, throwing his head back. 

“It’s good,” you paused for a second, drawing your legs further in. “To have space.” 

You could feel him rolling his eyes even if you couldn’t see it. 

“Space is good.” You squeezed your knees to your chest. “It’s healthy.” 

“Here we go again.” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” 

“I thought we were over it. I’ve apologised, I’ve kept my distance, I’ve phoned and texted at the right times. What else can I do?” 

“You kissed me,” you shouted at him, a croak in the back of your throat. Realising the sound of your own voice, you looked around the darkness as if someone could hear you. “And you can’t do that.” 

“If I remember correctly, you kissed me back.” 

“You’re delusional.” 

He huffed and when he spoke again you could hear the tears lodged in his airways, begging to spill. “Fuck you.” It was shaky, full of pain that you both shared. 

“I’m your sister, Aegon. Can’t you see how fucked up it is?” 

“You don’t think I know.” He stood up, taking a step away from you. “I hate myself for feeling this way but I can’t help it.” 

“It’s sick,” as soon as the words slipped from your mouth, you regretted them. But maybe it’s what he needed to hear, what you both needed to hear. 

“You act so fucking high and mighty,” he stormed around the room, in the darkness where he wasn’t visible to you. “Like you weren’t a part of this. Like you don’t feel the way I feel.” 

“I don’t-” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

-

Christmas wasn’t meant to be spent in silence but for the most part it had been. 

Both you and Aegon had put on glowing smiles for your family when you called, making up lies about how you both were enjoying yourselves. In reality you had been looking at the earliest flight you could catch to get yourself out of there but there weren’t any for a few more days. 

Eventually your phone died and the sun went down, meaning all you could do was stare up into the darkness as you curled up on the couch. You were still cold, the layers of blankets not doing much to help. You were glad for the friendly neighbour that dropped off an array of candles, the apartment being less depressing than it had been. 

In the silence of it all you could only think about Aegon as you were sure he was thinking about you. He had been hauled up in his room, giving you the silent treatment. The only time you had really seen him he was puffy eyed and pale in the face, barely able to look at you. 

You hated him for it. The way your stomach dropped at the sight of him, so distraught and how your eyes could barely look up from your knees to meet his face. With every second that passed you felt your chest tightening more, the silent tears unable to alleviate the weight that was holding you down. 

You weren’t sure of the time when you next saw Aegon. Maybe minutes had passed since the sun had set, maybe even hours. But for some reason you felt stuck in the passage of time, as if you didn’t do something, you’d never leave that apartment. Maybe that was just an excuse. 

Nothing really mattered to you when Aegon opened his bedroom door, finding you standing on the other side. You stood there contemplating for a while on what to do or what you were going to say. All you managed to think of was…

“I was cold,” your voice was quiet, barely audible. You looked up at him, that tight feeling in your chest snapped and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep your tears at bay. 

He was so close you could feel the heavy breaths he was taking, his chest almost touching yours. You couldn’t help but place your hand against his bare skin, wanting to ease the pain and sadness you were both feeling. 

When his hands cupped your cheeks, you accepted it. The pads of his thumb wiping at your wet skin, saying the things that you knew he was clearly too scared to say. But his lips said much more when they reached down to yours, hovering a centimetre away from you. 

It was a brush of lips when you closed the distance, delicate and fearful of one another’s rejection. You sobbed into his lips after a second, hands wrapping around his neck as you latched yourself onto him.

That feeling in your chest finally eased when he pulled you into his room, wrapping an arm around your waist. Your bodies moved on instinct, sinking into each other as you clumsily travelled over to his bed. When your foot stumbled on something, Aegon was quick to stop you from falling, snatching you up and throwing you onto his bed. 

You didn’t even know if it was you or him stripping you of your clothes, all you knew was that you were both desperate, tearing them from your body. Before you knew it you were chest to chest, bare against each other and completely vulnerable. His hands roamed your sides, not taking any time as he grabbed at the flesh, almost violently as if he was trying to bruise your skin, leaving his mark for everyone to see. 

“Aegon,” it slipped out in a moan when he grinded his hips into yours, his arousal clear to feel through his boxers. Your legs opened wider, wrapping around his waist to rub yourself up at him. “Please.” 

There was a wetness that had pooled between your thighs, one that Aegon could probably feel through his boxers. You were sure of it when he pressed himself flush against you, his stiff cock nudging at you as much as it could. 

You were breathless when his lips finally retreated from yours, only to latch onto your neck, sucking at the skin of your throat. You weren’t sure how you’d explain the marks he was surely leaving, purple and pink, but that was the last thing you wanted to think of when his tongue lazily trailed over your skin. 

You didn’t realise how much he moved till you felt his hand press against you, dragging his fingers around your soaked cunt. You gasped out, throwing your head back at the sensation as his fingers began to play with you. The swirling in your stomach was unfamiliar to you but it only grew with each drag of his fingers against you. He was barely doing anything but you were a mess, hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

When he finally slipped a finger in, you shuddered, only for him to push a second finger in with complete ease. Your pussy sucked him in with each thrust and the moan that fell from your lips made him smile against your skin. 

Was this what you had been depriving yourself of? Months of battling with unfamiliar feelings, only for you to cave just like this. Had it all been for nothing. 

“Aegon, it’s-” you were babbling, unable to finish your words as you let out a harsh breath. 

Your walls squeezed him when you came, back arching off the bed as you felt yourself squirting onto his abdomen. All your thighs wanted to do was close, wriggling around as you tried to escape his touch out of pure embarrassment. But he wasn’t letting you go, grip tightening around you as he yanked you further down onto the bed. 

In the candle lit room, you could barely see what he was doing but you didn’t need to see it. Not when you felt the tip of him press against your folds, hard and wet as he pushed it around, lubing himself up. 

“Aegon,” you pleaded, tears lodged in your throat as you lifted your leg around him. “Please, I need you.” 

He kissed you again, inhaling your very being with just one kiss. 

“I love you,” it came out in a broken cry that vibrated through your whole chest. 

“Say it again,” he demanded, sliding his cock against you. 

Even though you were still terrified of his rejection, worried that after all this he could still push you away, you said it again, “I love you.” 

The next kiss was hungrier than the last, teeth clashing against each other as he pressed himself fully against you and finally pushed himself into you. You both moaned into each other at this, your hands clawing at his back to get closer to him, if that was even possible. 

When he finally lifted his head, giving you space to breathe, he finally said, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” 

With that you let out a sharp breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. 

It felt like sweet torture the way Aegon thrusted into you, each brush of his cock inside your walls was like a new kind of ecstasy that you couldn’t understand. He was savouring the moment, that much you could tell, enjoying the way your thighs shook with each harsh snap of his hips and your walls clenched around him begging for more. 

The way he fucked you was as if he was still trying to stretch you out, get you ready for what was really about to take place. Even though you weren’t sure if you were ready for it, you were gasping for it, on the verge of crying if he didn’t give you what you so desperately craved right then.

“You need something, baby?” Aegon taunted from above you, lifting one of your thighs to sit between your bodies. 

You gave him a small nod, all you felt like you could manage. 

“I need you to tell me,” Aegon lifted the other legs now, the angle allowing him to reach deeper inside of you. “Speak for me.” 

“I can’t,” you gulped, shaking your head at him. 

“How am I supposed to know what you want?” 

“Please,” tears slid down your cheeks as he delivered a violent thrust. “I-I just n-need more.” 

Aegon slowly pulled out from you, making you whine when his tip sat at your entrance. But before you knew it was sinking back into your walls, snapping his hips into yours with a vicious rage that he clearly had been holding back on. 

Your thighs were shaking at this, unable to keep down each moan that fell from your lips until he pressed his lips against yours. Only for a moment though, letting out a groan of his own as he curved himself into you. 

“You like this,” Aegon stated, grinning against your cheek. “No. No.” 

You were so delirious, you could barely focus on his words. 

“You love this.” 

You clenched around him at this, your cunt clearly agreeing with him. 

“As much as I do.” 

Your eyes widened, feeling that familiar pressure in your stomach ready to snap. With the way your walls were squeezing him, you were sure that Aegon could tell, holding your face in place so he could watch this time. 

“Please,” he pleaded with you, eyes latched onto yours. 

You came for him, walls pulsating around him as the ecstasy spread across your skin. His lips only became more frantic after that, keeping you hooked on that feeling as he chased his own orgasm. One more clench from your cunt, had him spilling into you finally. He sighed as he rocked his hips against yours, making sure to feel you up completely with every last drip of his cum. 

He slipped out of you with a sharp hiss, collapsing on top of you right after. Your breathing was still harsh as you fell slack against the bed, mind starting to become clear. You didn’t want that, not wanting to think of the consequences of what you both had truly done. Not right then at least. 

But Aegon was already softening against you. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered.

“Hmm- What was that?” Aegon asked, shifting to hover above you. 

You were getting choked up again as reality began to hit you, “I-” 

“It’s okay,” Aegon was quick to reassure you, rolling you both over so you were resting on his chest. “You just gotta trust me.” 

You buried your head into his neck, letting him soothe you as his hand rubbed your back. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I trust you.”

[admistedenslush]

Saddle Tramp

Cowboy!Dark!Aegon/Reader

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the outlaw with a penchant for indulgence, stumbles upon a lonely saloon where he is determined to satisfy his needs

Tw: non con, fem!reader, guns

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

In the vast expanse of the wild west, Aegon Targaryen emerges, his golden locks tousled and his visage of breathtaking beauty. Whispers of his notorious charm echo through the dusty saloons, yet the true depths of his wickedness surpass even the tales.

Mothers warn their daughters to stay away from his path, while good men caution their sons not to follow in his footsteps.

The townsfolk lived in constant fear, never knowing when Aegon would strike next. He became an emblem of the darkness that lurked in the shadows, a reminder that evil could manifest itself in the most alluring of forms.

He played with the desires and vulnerabilities of others, using them as pawns in his wicked game. No one was safe from his treacherous pull, as he effortlessly weaved his way into their lives, leaving destruction in his path.

Aegon Targaryen could make the devil himself blush in shame.

⊹

As you navigate through the speakeasy, a gentle murmur of small talk fills the air, blending with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. With expert finesse, you deftly serve the familiar faces that frequent this hidden establishment, their preferred beers and plates of rancid chicken.

As the last server closing tonight, you felt a slight unease. It's understandable to worry about the safety of a girl, regardless of age, being alone at this hour. However, as the last drunken men bid their farewells, your nerves started to calm. Now, back to the task of sweeping the floors, you found solace in the serenity of being alone once again.

As you hummed to yourself, carefree and oblivious, the loud thud of the double swinging doors abruptly snapped you out of your reverie. Without even turning around, you curtly declared, “We're closed. And mind you, don't dirty these floors with your mucky boots.”

A dark, unsettling laugh echoed through the empty saloon, causing you to slightly turn your head, feeling agitated. However, your irritation quickly dissipated as you caught sight of the figure standing just a few feet away. Your grip on the broom loosened, and it fell to the ground with a clatter that rang in your ears.

“My boots are clean, dear,” the fair-haired man remarked, his voice dripping with mischief. “Had a lass licking at them just a fortnight ago.”

Silence enveloped the room, and fear began to take hold. “What's the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?” the man taunted. “Well, I'll let it slide this time. I want a cold whiskey.”

Your voice quivered as you stuttered out a response, your lip trembling. “We… we don't have any ice.”

Aegon clicked his tongue in a gesture of disappointment as he made his way towards you, and an overwhelming sense of dread coursed through your veins.

Instead of confronting you, he simply walked past, nonchalantly settling into a booth. With a casual air, he propped his feet up and slouched in a relaxed manner. Your heart raced as you scurried over to the bar, your movements resembling those of a skittish mouse. Hastily, you reached for a glass, but before you could even begin pouring, the man interrupted you, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance. "No need for a glass. I'll take the bottle.“

Reluctantly, you acquiesced to his demand.

As you placed the bottle of whiskey on the table, your hands trembled slightly, and you found yourself unsure of where to put them.

“Please, have a seat.” he said, looking up at you with a twisted smile that sent a shiver down your spine. You took a seat as far away from him as possible in the cramped booth.

The man took a hearty gulp of the liquor, and the sight of it nearly made you gag. Aegon placed the bottle on the table with a satisfying pop, and then he spoke, “Have a drink.”

You furrowed your brow, and he immediately noticed your confusion. “You don't drink, do you?” he asked. Once again, fear rendered you unable to answer, unsure of what to say.

Silence hung in the air, and Aegon grew increasingly irritated, smacking the table in frustration. “Speak when spoken to, girl,” he demanded, his anger palpable. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, drip by nervous drip.

“No, sir. Only in church, the blood of Christ,” you managed to splutter out, shocking both him and yourself. His laughter faltered, but a sly smile remained on his face.

“Sir… I like the sound of that,” he mused.

Aegon took another swig, causing a hiccup to escape his lips.

"Do you know who I am?" he slurred, glancing down at your chemise. Not wanting to provoke another outburst, you replied, "Yes, you're Aegon Targaryen."

He smiled at that and continued, "Then you know. Good. The truth is, I'm craving some company."

Immediately, you knew where this was heading and abruptly stood up.

"If you're looking for company, there's a brothel just a few miles from here," you suggested, hoping to divert his attention. "I want you," he yelled back like an insolent child.

Fear began to grip you as Aegon swiftly drew his pistol, aiming it at you.

"Don't test me, girl. I've put a bullet through a pretty thing like you before," he spat, his mouth wet like a rabid dog.

His lazy demeanor transformed into a determined one, causing you to gulp. "Come here, my dear. You're so easily frightened. Come sit on my lap," he beckoned. You approached him, clutching your skirts, and settled onto his strong thighs. And there, you felt something hard underneath.

"Can't you sense the impact you have on me? My cock is as hard as a boulder," he said, holding his gun up to your face. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Part your lips" he ordered, as tears streamed down your cheeks.

His fingers gently caressed your cheek as you complied, opening your mouth.

"Let's see just how far down the rabbit hole we can go," he chuckled, placing the big iron in your mouth.

"Savor it, darling," he whispered.

Aegon squeezed your mouth open as he rammed the gun down your throat, making saliva drip down the sides and choking you.

The blond cooed at you, almost giddy as he watched the act.

He rubbed his clothed cock under you and suddenly yanked his gun out of your lips as you could hardly breathe and he preferred his lover to still be warm and alive.

Aegon swiftly turned you on your stomach and deftly laid you on the table as you urgently pleaded, “Please.”

Your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as he callously lifted your skirts above your backside, squeezing your ass cheeks apart.

“Fuck Yes,” he groaned, attaching his lips to your sensitive bud. He ran his tongue down to your leaking cunt, and you clenched at this.

Little gasps and moans fall from your parted lips as you grip the edge of the table to ground yourself.

Aegon pulled back to admire your creamy cunt, basking in the scent of your musk before diving back in.

You unleash a torrent, Aegon drinking as much of your nectar as he can.

There’s so much, it seeps around his mouth and on his shirt. He doesn’t care. He could drink from you forever, and unbeknownst to you, that’s his plan.

Aegon rose to his feet, and just when you believed the ordeal was finally over, you heard the faint sound of his rustling belt. Timidly, you glanced back at him, feeling an odd mix of emotions. Nausea twisted in your gut, yet a twisted pleasure also coursed through you.

"What are you doing?" you asked shyly, your face growing warm.

A grin formed on his face as he giggled.

"I'm going to claim you as my own, my dear maiden," he whispered, his words laden with a darkness that made your blood run cold.

"No!" you cried out, your voice filled with desperation and defiance.

“No?” He gave a sultry chuckle and stroked his cock as he bent his knees. With a forceful slam, he crushed your face against the table, the sound reverberating through the room. Your cheek pressed uncomfortably against the wooden surface, nearly melding with it as you laid there, feelings mushed and trapped.

You whimpered as he pulled his hand away and pressed the head of his cock against you. He wrenched your head back so that you were forced to arch your back and guided himself to your entrance.

As he forcefully plunged into your cunt, his moaning overpowering your pitiful cries.

Your entire body shook as he fucked you. He was vicious. As if punishing you. His hand slipped from the back of your head to your throat, and he pulled you against him.

“Such a tight cunt,” he muttered.

You were sore, battered. From head to toe. Your entire body ached and your pussy thrummed. His flesh clapped against your ass, the flesh raw and tender.

He growled as he felt the sudden gush and your walls pulsed around him. He sped up, and he snaked his arm around you.

He tore your chemise down to your stomach, grabbing your tit as his pace picked up again.

“Fuck-!” He exclaimed and came with a spasm. 

His hips slowed as he rode out his climax, his hand even tighter around your neck. He bottomed out as he sighed in relief and reluctantly let go of you. He pulled out and let you drop against the booth.

Furthermore, he chuckled and you heard the subtle rustling again. You shakily sat up and cradled your face as you looked up at him. His cock was already tucked away, a wet spot forming along the front of his pants.

His come dripped from you, and you pulled down your skirts with a shudder. To hide yourself. To hide your shame as he stretched the crick out of his neck and settled on another stool, elbows on the bar.

You gazed at him, overwhelmed with a sense of profound disorientation. Your mind was a blank canvas, unable to grasp even the simplest of thoughts.

“Here's some spare change,” he tossed the money carelessly in front of your feet.

You glanced down at the money, a wave of disgust washing over you.

“I'm not a whore,” you retorted.

“Then it's for the whiskey bottle,” he replied, and in an instant, he stumbled out of the saloon.

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

not proofread

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Merhaba!

If you feel uncomfortable, you can delete this request!

Warning: non-con, toxic behavior, baby trapping?

Request here! for a modern dark!aegon, where the reader has been his friend for a long time and aegon has a horrible dependency on her, as well as an obsession and mostly never lets anyone near her, since he sees her as his, anyway, the reader one day tells him she is accepted for a scholarship in another country but he gets mad because she is going to leave him so he forces her to have sex with him and also hopes to get her pregnant so she will never leave him.

you’re so cute nonnie!!!!! this is totally fine, I don’t normally write for non-con, but I’ll let this slide cause it’s kinda hot 🥵 I’m combining it with this ask, and leaning more towards a dub-con, manipulation tactic of dark!Aegon!!! hope you enjoy xx

quote in the link above is - "gentle, slow manipulation - "just a kiss" to "I'll only grind against you" to "only the tip, promise" to "just a little more" to "I won't cum inside" until you're a cum-filled wreck underneath them."

Dilemmas & Dreams.

PAIRING: Dark!Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 4,179.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, co-dependency, somnophilia, dub-con, slight mentions of non-con, mentions of pregnancy, time jumps.

A/N - so this took me forever cause it was a hard concept to plot. tried to make it more dub-con/non-con but still slightly consensual, just because I do not condone using violence for sex. but dark!Aeg is just my intrusive thots. I also did not include my taglists, just cause I did not want to trigger or force anyone to feel the need to read this, if it isn't your thing <3 no pressure. this is for a specific audience.

It was an universal understanding that relationships could get complicated from time to time, to say at the very least... This did not cease with your unique relationship with Aegon.

With every fibre in your heart, you love him dearly, and that [if you were being honest], would never change. He generally was not the ideal type of man you'd pursue [as you had initially assumed] nor did you think it was even a realistic possibility to fall for his type. Likewise, you did no think of yourself as his particular type, although Aegon was less picky than you when it came to finding a mate. Yet he had this almost omnipotent-like power over you. Luring you farther and deep enough, he kept you eagerly lingering for more: for more of his touch, his scent, his love and affections. An urge you attempted countless of times to keep silenced and at bay, and yet you felt the constant, probing need to keep the man sated.

With many of your short, previous relationships, you'd never granted a man the opportunity to bear such a profound effect on you, nor did any of them truly possess the charisma Aegon had naturally wielded. It was all very consuming and perplexing, yet a part of you quite enjoyed the crisp attention Aegon showered you with in return for your loyalty and commitment to him. Your long-time warfare of constantly seeking approval and praise did not help the situation either, only exploiting your vulnerability more, as you vowed to refuse disappointing the man at all costs.

And from what you had learnt and could decipher about Aegon's history, he had never grown this infatuated with another before, let alone actually granted himself the opportunity to have a significant other. His previous flings had been fleeting and meaningless, only to glutton himself off of sex, inflating his subtle ego. However, you, you had caught him off-guard. A fellow colleague and long-time friend of Aemond's, you had met mutually. You knew of each other, though had never truly met, for Aemond was desperate to keep some distance between yourself and his elder brother. He had mentioned many things about Aegon, not all good, yet you knew better than to judge or presume. In theory, you were both quite the opposites, yet something about you, your innocence, warm demeanour drew him to you, like a moth to a flame. From the many family quarrels Aemond had disclosed to you, it seemed Aegon was problematic with some sort of self-conflict from within. He struggled with certain tendencies such as drinking, partying, avoiding responsibilities, yet nonetheless, he was still pretty decent and respectful towards you. Helplessly though, you felt an immense pity for him, even if Aemond argued against it, perhaps it was your nativity: regardless, the more Aegon latched himself closer towards you, the better he became. More present at home, the less he drank and spent his days hungover and pissed, the less hostile he was towards his family.

Although, he remained a pest towards his younger brothers, Aemond and Daeron, occasionally taunting them. Not to mention, he did go against Aemond's urges to leave you alone.

"Aeg, Y/N's off limits. I have never asked of anything from you, nor have I ever really expected anything from you, if I'm being honest. But, I digress, she is off limits. Understood?"

"Why, have you finally grown the balls to actually ask her out? Or you scared she'll actually say yes to the likes of me?"

"OFF LIMITS Aeg! I fucking mean it!"

"No, no- How about I date Y/N instead, and in return I leave you alone? See now that sounds like an even better deal to me, brother."

Not to mention, you were undeniably a sight for sore eyes, beautiful nonetheless, he was determined to have you. The thought that someone else could pluck you from him at any given second, not excluding his younger brother, began to stir something rageful inside of him. The more time he spent around you, the more possessive he could feel himself becoming. A side he did not fathom existed in him, yet you had so ignorantly ignited. Although, he relished in it. Eventually, and much to Aemond's reluctance he inserted himself into your conversations, making his presence known whenever you were around, or forcing his younger brother to exploit your whereabouts with threats only each brother knew about one another. Regardless, his tactics worked and eventually, you became his. His.

Since then all had been bliss, yet, now, you were struck with a dilemma...

****

"What do you mean you could be moving, Y/N? Is this a few weeks kinda thing or you're gone... For good?" Aegon raised, his voice growing audibly louder with such a ferocity, you'd never heard the likes of it before.

"W-Well it's a scholarship, Aeg. One that I honestly never even thought possible to get, I-I just applied off a whim. B-But now that they're offering it, maybe, just maybe, I was hoping you could support me."

The words fell shaky from your quivering lips; Aegon's face was struck with a blatant concoction of confusion, hurt and fury, like a wounded predator that had unforeseen a counter attack.

"Just answer me this, Y/N, how long exactly will you be gone for? How long are you planning to leave me?"

He took a great stride towards you, his hands reaching over, tightly gripping your forearms by the sides, as if in fear you might run at any minute. His voice although stern and unnerving, his lilac eyes glistened tearily.

"It-It's a funded Masters course, Aeg, just for two years I'll be studying abroad. B-But I'll plan to come back to see you whenever I can. Every holiday, every semester's break, you bet I'm coming back to you. A-And you could even come and see me, baby. You know, I-I would never leave you like that, Aeg, you know this, p-please-"

An eerie silence was all that you were met with, as Aegon's grip on you had loosened slowly. His face remained stoic, yet his teary eyes flickered, before he began to dauntingly nod his head, walking away from you towards the closed window of your apartment. You could hear sniffles, before he released a long, exhausted sigh as he looked onwards to the scenery outside.

"So this is how you disregard me, huh, Y/N? Is this how you see me, see us? Just something you can toss to the fucking side, once you find something a little more interesting to chase after?"

His harsh words stung like the venom of a viper. Now turned back towards you, his hardened gaze was chilling, almost even threatening. You felt somewhat fearful of Aegon at this very exact moment, although he would never hurt you, that you were certain of. He was often stubborn and hot-tempered though knew to control himself swiftly. Reassured by this, you simultaneously also felt the desperate urge to coddle and soothe his fears, vouching that you could nor would ever dispose of him like some piece of garbage.

"A-Aeg, never! That's not me, please! You are overthinking this, Aegon, you'-re-you're not thinking straight, my love. I-I know this can be overwhelming but t-try to understand me. Please-"

Taking a small step towards him, you came to a sudden halt, as he took a step back maintaining the distance between. His hand lifting mid way as if to signal you to stop, swatting you away.

"So now my feelings aren't valid? Fuck, Y/N... You really are starting to sound like a real, spoilt little bitch now. Just like the rest of them fucking sluts!"

Seating himself promptly down onto the bed, he ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, his head facing towards the ground, as another defeated sigh escaped his lips once more. It was only when he resumed his sole attention back unto your frozen frame, did he stupidly realise that now he had really crossed the line.

"Get out," Your voice although quiet just above a whisper, was crisp.

"Y/N-Baby-I-I didn't mean that-"

"Out, Aegon!"

A tightness in your chest began to intensify, a hand falling over your left, clothed breast, as your breathing began to hasten into loud, hitched sobs. Your eyes darted mindlessly around the room, feeling as though the walls began to close in, a sense of claustrophobia that you'd never feared nor experienced before brewing. Your cheeks turning scarlet by the seconds, as your eyes began to fill with hot tears, streaking down your tender face. Cowering down your other free hand, was poorly attempting to grab at anything solid enough to keep you upright, although Aegon bounding over towards you, reached over, lending you a spare chair, guiding your shaking body over to sit, as he cowered down in front of you.

"Y/N, Y/N, my angel, baby please- I-I didn't mean that, I-I could never mean that. I'm just so-just so upset that you-you didn't tell me about this. You-You always tell me everything. What would I do without you, huh, my sweet girl?-"

Brushing a strand of your hair aside, his other free hand cupping your hot, blushed cheek, his thumb stroking away a freshly fallen tear.

"H-How could I live without you for two years, if I can't even bear an evening without you?"

And yet no response other than earning heart-aching sobs from your behalf. Seeing you in such a distraught, unconsolable state only in turn tormented Aegon, as the tears that he had once so proudly held back, now began to streak across his soft, handsome face.

"B-Baby, please. Please, say something. I-I'm so sorry, don't-don't hate me. I couldn't bear it-"

"Ugh- Just fuck off, Aegon!-" Wailing his arms off you, you shove him off, as you stand hastily, storming aside, creating that deliberate distance in between once again. Aegon slowly rises himself up, that familiar hurt look tinged across his disheartened face, he roughly wipes the tears off his eyes, leaving them puffy and red.

"Sorry? Sorry about what exactly, Aeg? Sorry, that you can't just be an adult for one second, and accept the fact that some of us have priorities in our lives other than being in a fucking relationship? To think that you could be mature about this, how foolish of me..."

"Y/N, I-"

"Don't, Aeg! Don't even bother explaining yourself... I think it's best that you just leave me to decide."

Brazenly interrupting him before he could utter another word, your hand meekly gestures towards the door to your apartment. You couldn't even find the stamina to look Aegon dead in the eyes, fearful that any tender look from his part, you'd crumble once more in a second.

Seeing how riled up and tense you were, Aegon reluctantly began to pace himself towards the door, taking his time before a firm hand reached, gripping the metal knob of the door. The door opening as he unlocked the entry, he came to a sudden stop, turning back momentarily staring at you, tempted to say something. However, just as his attention panned across to you, your focus from him shifted elsewhere, fleeting from a window to the floor, desperate not to look directly at him. Sensing your message, he remained quiet as he left the premises, firmly shutting the door behind.

As the pain-staking silence fell once more, the intensity of the situation felt magnitude that very second Aegon had left. Feeling weak in your knees, your walked back over towards your bed, laying yourself down, burying your tearful face into a pillow, as the sobs returned, only now muffled. Your mind was racing rapidly. Regardless of what had unfolded, you cared deeply for Aegon and knew that it wounded him immensely that you hadn't involved him in your decision, prior to making such a life-changing commitment. It was his life too, that you toyed with, and a deep, integral part of you felt somewhat guilty.

Although, the ugly side of Aegon had showed, and it scarred you bitterly. Would he act and lash out like this at every chance something major would come? Was it a flaw of his, that you were willing to accept and embrace? You had no certainty. The fleeting minutes became hours into the night, as you laid still in bed, empty of tears, eyes stinging, your pillow soaked and face flustered, before you'd gradually began to fall into a deep sleep. Exhausted by the day's mishaps, you were hopeful the new day would offer some consolation...

****

Whether you had been dreaming vividly enough to be stirred awake, you could not say. Although, Aegon was on your mind as you drifted off to sleep, remaining in your dreams and as you slightly woke, too tiresome to remember the details of the events in the long hours prior. You felt something heavy, yet awfully familiar, the musky scent, pressing against your body.

Followed by a soft "shush-ing", you instantly recognised the deep, low tone that belonged to your boyfriend's manly voice.

"It's just me, baby. Go back to sleep. I couldn't leave you all alone like this."

"Hmm, Aeg-" Was all that you could pathetically muster, before returning readjusting your head on the pillow. It wasn't uncommon for Aegon to find himself in your apartment after hours or even whilst you were still out during the day, for you did offer him keys, and came home to find him lounging around as if it was his own home. You trusted him enough to share a copy, and up until now, he had been loyal not to abuse his right, thus, this reoccurrence had never startled you.

"That's right, my sweet girl. It's just me... I'm going to fix everything, okay?"

Unlike how sinister and brooding his tone with you was just hours ago, you now felt comforted and safe, hearing that familiar, saintly tone of his. Like a lullaby it ushered you back to sleep, as you felt a small, wet kiss planted on your forehead, as he brushed the astray strands off your face, taking a few moments to gaze upon you lustfully, before stirring himself up.

Feeling the mattress beneath move, you sensed that he was now positioned on his knees, hovering above you, as each leg pinned to either sides of your upper thighs, faintly hearing a metal clanging, as he unbuckled his belt and zipper. You remained laying comfortably on your stomach, your back facing him, your face turned to the side against the plush pillow, he could see you just faintly nodding against his words in agreement. It earned a soft smile from Aegon, as he pulled his pants down enough, laying over you, as his bare, hard cock began to grind against the thin fabric of your dress, just between your ass cheeks. Just from the sheer action, you could feel some wetness stirring beneath, a visceral reaction Aegon found so easily he could induce from you.

"Only the tip, baby... I promise. I'm going to make it up to you, my sweet, sweet angel."

Sensually lifting your dress up, he lightly lifted you, turning you slightly to the side with one arm, just enough for him to pull your panties down: planting you back gently, as to not startle you completely awake.

"My good, good girl. Always doing so well for me, not like anyone else...I was such a dick to you, wasn't I, baby?"

Earning another simple nod, he resumed with grazing his cock over your sensitive skin, feeling its pulsating throbs against your cheeks.

"But my princess, did do something very naughty... Trying to leave me, without asking. Leaving me all alone, you know how upset that would make me, right baby?"

"Hmm-Aeg-"

"But look at you begging for me...Now what makes you think you could leave me so easily, then? Precious girl, didn't think this through, did she?"

Gradually, his firm, thick cock slowly began to push itself deeper and deeper between your thighs, as one, strong arm stretched over your side to keep him steady, the other manoeuvred your legs, spreading them wide enough for him to position himself right between your centre.

"Don't worry, Princess. I'm here now, I'm going to help you make this decision, like a good boyfriend. Wouldn't want you to overthink anything, now let me take care of you... I promise I won't go in deeper, I won't cum inside."

Feeling your eyes naturally flutter from reality and dream, as you felt a lightening pain course through your body from the sensitive spot below. Aegon had forced himself in, your walls stretching as wide as possible to accomodate for his dense, throbbing mass, you could feel yourself tightly clenching over him, rewarded by deep, growling grunts and moans from him.

"Fuck, baby. Always know how fucking good to make me feel...Now why would you ruin it, and do something so stupid? Have I been so cruel, you wish to leave me?"

"N-No Aeg-" You'd managed to softly whimper, stirring even more awake, although eyes remained firmly shut, as you arched yourself in response to Aegon's slowly paced thrusts.

"Are you bored with Aeg, that you want to leave me?"

"No."

"Have I frightened you so, you wish to run away far from me?"

Within that split second he'd uttered those words, that familiar, daunting tone returned to him, and you felt your heart begin to beat feverishly.

"I-I love you Aeg."

Now his thrusts began to hasten in response to your words, his grunts primal and louder.

"Say it again, I'm struggling to believe you. You tried to deceive me today, angel. That was cruel of you...Say it again."

"I love you, Aegon."

This time more awake and conscious of what was going on, you were too deeply saturated in being sated by Aegon in the moment. You couldn't muster a single ounce of dignity nor sanity at this very moment to stop him in his tracks, knowing what he was capable of, he had all the power in his court.

"P-Pull out, Aeg-"

Your wetness now greatly coating his deep, hefty cock, feeling the mess beginning to ooze and seep from the edges of your entrance down your thighs. As he pulled out slightly and with his help, he turned you over, now both of you facing one another, although this time, managing to maintain complete and utter focus. Resuming to his sloppy, rough thrusts, you could feel the intensity of his cock, determined to push and shove himself as deep as possible, the tip of his cock just striking that sweet, sensitive spot of your cervix.

Aegon's face lowered down towards yours, as his ample, moist lips lingered over yours. Momentarily, just grazing above one another, before plummeting down on yours, as he noticed your lips beginning to stir to speak, desperate to shut you before you could ask once more. His tongue forced it way into yours, swirling and occupying your own: this unexplainable control that he had over you, now once more overtaking you. In the moments that Aegon had left, although maddened by his words, you had missed him. Could his brutal words bear truth, that two years without seeing him, would be impossible?

"Now, why would I do that? I promised you I would help, that's what I'm going to do. I'm doing this all for us."

His lips now trailing along your jawline down to the crook of your neck, where he knew you had a weak, sensitive spot that made you close to thoughtless. You could feel a upturn smirk strewed across his face, against your skin. Regardless, you could not surmise his intention, far too deep in devious, lustful thoughts, you needed Aegon to sate you completely.

"A-Aeg-"

Within a few more long, taunting minutes as Aegon edged you on, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling his warm, dense seed filling you up, it was a feeling unlike the many, intimate times before. You both were often proactive in protection, and yet tonight, although different, it was somewhat sublime.

"That's my good, perfect girl, that's it. Did so fucking well. I need you to stay put like this for me, okay?"

Regardless, that his fill had drenched you inside, Aegon remained buried deeply inside. Somehow, managing to turn you once more to the side, as he laid himself cosily behind you, thick, muscular arms holding you tenderly from behind, as his cock remained sorely stretching yet pleasantly coaxing you inside.

"Hush now baby, my good, sweet princess. How could I ever let you go so easily, huh? What kind of a man would I be to let his girl leave like that?-"

His hot, breathless words felt soothing as he whispered against your ears, his free hand atop, once more fixing the sweat-infused tangled strands away from your heated face. Leaving a few pecks of kisses against your dewy skin.

"Now promise to get some rest for me, angel. I need you strong for my little surprise."

****

Had you known what was to follow in the early months to come, the significance of Aegon's cryptic gesture following the sex that night. How his large, rough hand found it's way over to your lower abdomen, lightly caressing it in a circular motion, something he'd never normally done before, although not unquestionable at the time... Upon awaking early that morning, Aegon explained his surprise visit during the night, grieving over the sheer thought of losing you was enough to make the man cry once more, profusely apologising for the poisonous words he'd spat upon you. He refused to leave your side, and you knew you could not stop him. Nonetheless, he was well-intentioned, and you forgave him, allowing him to spend many more nights and days to come. Too preoccupied with the decision to be made, as Aegon kept pestering you for advice and discussion, you'd forgotten the whole notion of birth control, and only remembered a few days after. Regardless, the love making did not cease, as Aegon persuaded you that he wished to spend as many hours with you, "in case you decide to leave, I need to cherish every moment with you." Poetic of him, although, his agenda was far more conniving.

****

"Aeg- I'm, I'm pregnant."

The words were as sweet as honey to his sly ears: he did not lash out nor did he act upset nor surprised. In fact, unlike the momentous news you'd dropped before regarding the scholarship, this did not seem to phase him, not in the slightest.

You both rarely spoke of the thought of having children together, being both still quite young in age, and knowing that Aegon's youth was not one he favoured, regardless, he remained pleasantly optimistic upon hearing the news.

"Baby, this is good- This is wonderful."

"B-But what about the scholarship, what do I do?"

Cupping your tender, shocked face in his hands, his reassuring smile offered you some ease, though not enough. A child, an actual child. You hadn't really comprehended the notion of motherhood, nor did you completely go against it.

"Y/N, this-" One hand now stroking the same spot on your lower stomach, now a slight swell present, as he did those many nights ago. It all clicked now.

"This happened for a reason, you can't deny us this. Our own little baby, Y/N, we can have our own little family, sweetie. I promise I'll take care of us, all of us. You can't be stressing about some scholarship now..."

"But Aeg, I really did want it."

"So you-you want the scholarship, more than a family? More than making me happy or yourself? I thought you would be okay with this."

"I-Of course Aeg, I would love to have a family with you, only you now that I'm being honest. But I just always thought in due time, I-"

"Now's the time baby... This happened to us for a reason. Maybe the scholarship wasn't meant to be. Maybe something else will come along, they're always giving out scholarships, babe. If they offered it to you before, they'll offer it again. How could they deny you?"

His words sweet, and reaffirming. It was true, there were endless opportunities to apply for degrees and scholarships throughout the years. And it seemed Aegon, was extremely on board with the idea of becoming a father. Knowing how far he'd come from the rebellious boy he'd once been, stammering into the house late at night as Aemond and you remained studying endlessly, to the confident man he was now, was astounding. His dear mother, Alicent, even knew it, and thanked you deeply, for years she had been aimlessly trying to better her eldest.

"You are making all this possible for me, Y/N. Things I never dreamt to be or the person I'd become, you are the sole reason for my happiness. And now with this baby, I feel I could conquer the world."

[sunfyresrider]

*ೃ༄SACRILEGE | AEGON II TARGARYEN

✧Synopsis. You’d been sent to Valea Zalanului, Transylvania to aid a church in desperate need of sisters of the faith. Since you arrived your faith has been constantly tested and the priest himself stirs nothing but unease within you.

✧Content. 18+nsfw ahead, Old English, vampire!priest, fem!reader, “blood letting”, confessional, provocative thoughts/dreams, vampire cult?, blasphemy, sacrilege,“father”, corruption kink, smut, m/f cunnilingus, pnv. WC. 6.3k

✧Translations. Wot- know, Gramercy- thanks, Hast- have, Hath- had, Thou - you, ‘I- in, Dost/Doth- do, Thy- your, Tis- it is, Merely- solely/only, Beray- reveal, Aye- always/ever, Ere- before

✧Note. anddddd we’re back. I haven’t been writing enough in the last few months so I am rusty. FYI the plot moves fast, this was originally just meant to be a short smut. Tags. @criticallybella @etherial-moon-blog @xylianasblog

Valea Zalanului,

Transylvania,

1480

You had been sent on a journey to join and aid in a new church far from home. A little village twenty some miles from the nearest city in desperate need for a priest and sisters of the faith. You hadn’t minded traveling the distance, albeit the chill from the soon to pass winter season made it all the harder. The town itself was even smaller than you assumed, a grandiose church sat in the middle of around thirty very simple dwellings. The wood, straw and stone was much different from the entirely stone city you were blessed to be born into.

Valea Zalanului had a certain charm about it that most large settlements lacked, natural beauty. God had taken extra time to craft the hills and forests surrounding it. Unfortunately, you’d be inside the church for most of your stay here. Which might not be a horrible thing considering many lives had been lost due to disease, a child who made it past three was considered a blessing. Not to mention the wars that raged on throughout the country.

Your heart ached with excitement at the idea of being a part of this place and helping the people who lived here.

You noticed that even though it was shrouded in beauty every face you passed seemed grim and the town itself was droll in comparison to ones you visited previously. In all honesty, and god forgive you for saying this, you’d find more cheerful faces during a funeral.

As you began to ascend the steps to the church you were immediately greeted by two sisters, one was much shorter than the other, her face soft and fresh, the other was tall and sharp. The elder seemed less pleased to greet you as she stood a distance, observing you carefully. The younger girl stepped forward and bowed slightly before taking your hands.

"Thou might not but be our new sister! welcome, I be sister Marishka, the one standing yonder is sister Aleera!” Her voice was sweet and her excitement was evident. “Pleased to compose thy acquaintance Mariska,” you smiled earnestly, “And sister Aleera.” Her eyes bore into you and you waited with bated breath for her judgment. None came, only a single nod and a knowing look to Mariska.

“Don’t let her fright thou, that little nod means she approves. Aleera is normally quite welcoming, it’s just these days hast been busy.” Your face betrayed you as it showed your surprise, the town seemed too empty to have a lot of traffic. “Truly?”

“Oh yes, many of the sisters that hast traveled hither were disappointing to say the least. Not to mention the sheer numbers of victims of war and famine that hast graced our steps… This winter hath been much worse than 'i the past.” You glanced around, observing your surroundings for all the people she spoke of but none were found. Perhaps that had all passed away while in their care or sent away for whatever reason.

A strange feeling began to creep up your spine. You could not place what it was or why it was but it was very much present. Your head whipped back to the door where Aleera was beckoning you inside, an arm wrapped around your own, paired with the brightest smile you’d ever seen. She had practically dragged you inside, gawking at the new ceiling fixtures. It grew ever darker the further you moved inside, save the one grandiose stained glass window depicting the crucifixion.

For how busy she claimed it to be, the church seemed rather empty. It felt chilled, more so than the outside and instead of oak the building was made of stone. Her chatterings were lost on you as you took it all in. There was something greatly lacking, overshadowed by a presence you could not name. It almost felt as if this building was a costume, built to resemble a sacred place. You nearly began to regret auctioning yourself to a newer place, perhaps adventure was not suited for you.

A light nudge to your waist drew you out of your stupor, gazing incredulously at Marishka. Her voice was still hushed as you turned to look upon, what you could only presume was the acting priest. He looked far younger than what you expected, messy platinum hair framing his baby-esque face. His smile was bright, yet his eyes were a stark contrast. They were drowned in a hue of violet, shrouded with a cloud of something you could not pinpoint.

His lips moved and you still could not hear, you were far too focused on how his attire was not in the proper size. “Mine mind seems to be elsewhere, please forgive me. What was it thou spoke?” He chuckled silently to himself, your disrespect of his status seemed to amuse him.

"Never fret, thy journey hath been long and i presumed thou had been exhausted. I’m father Aegon, the current and hopefully 'i the foreseeable future priest.” His accent was heavy and foreign, British, not something you had heard often. You bowed slightly, hand pressed against your chest as you greeted him.

"Mine name is-” Father Aegon waved his hand, “I wot thy name and all the important details. I’ve been 'i close communication with thy sect and we feel most blessed to hast thou” His smile felt unnerving, unusually sharp at the tips of his mouth. You could almost swear his teeth were whiter than most, though dental hygiene was not a common practice.

His eyes, on the other hand, were strange. You’d never seen such a color before nor been enchanted into gazing at them. It seemed you could become lost in the depths, if only for a moment. Your silence must have been off putting because Marshika seemed to grip you harder. “Alright, Methinks mine sister hath had too much excitement for today. I shall guide her to her chambers.” Father Aegon nodded, a silent understanding passed between them.

You struggled to find sleep after today's odd welcoming. After mindlessly reading through the weathered pages of a Bible you’ve owned since a child you blew out the singular candle in your room. You settled under the thin blanket and turned your back to the window.

The moon was full tonight. It bathed your whole room in its pale light, creating odd shadows from your belongings. Your eyes were trained on the window across the room. The howling sounds of wind began lulling you to sleep like a corrupted lullaby.

Everything will be okay, you told yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut. God will guide me through this, you murmured as you finally drifted off into slumber…

The sudden feeling of your bed being weighed down stirred you awake, but when you tried to move your body became limp. You glanced up to see a figure on all four limbs climbing onto the bed, dazzling red eyes boring into yours as it moved above you. A beast, one that seemed to be plucked out of hell itself. Your blood ran cold, the pounding of your heart echoing in your eardrums as its clawed, beastly hands slowly descended upon you.

You could neither scream nor move, as if you had been held down by an invisible weight and gagged by an unknown object. Your eyes squeezed shut, praying, begging for some sort of escape. Dear Lord art in heaven, whatever sin I may have committed or performed against you, dear god have mercy on me.

A soft pair of lips touched your collarbone, kissing against your trembling skin gently. You felt the devil above you shift, the horrid hands changing into ones that carefully caressed you. Blasphemy, you thought bitterly. How could such a heinous creature use such loving, familiar gestures? And yet, the hands and lips brought a strange warmth that calmed the tense muscles in your body and eased the erratic beats of your heart.

Your eyes began to pry themselves open, a flash of silver hair just hovering in your field of view. The smell of wine and a strange hint of musk entice your senses, the image growing clearer by the second. It was not the nightmarish shape you had seen before. Instead, a beautiful, gorgeous being that lulled you to another world with his hands.

Priest Aegon? No, not him, it couldn’t be.

His kisses did not cease, instead trickled down to your collarbone. His fingers inching onto your breasts, massaging into the tender flesh. You were not in your right mind, thoughts beginning to form and protest kept slipping away. It felt too good to fight it. Surely, this man is god in disguise.

The father’s lips pressed into that of your breast, his tongue ghosting your nipple. Your breath hitched, the feeling alone almost is enough to send you into convulsions. However, you were abruptly pulled from the haze, a sharp sensation pricked at your breast. With sudden clarity you peered down to see the priest sinking his teeth into your breast.

You jolted awake, eyes flying open and hands grasping at the spot where he bit you. You were in your room, alone, but you still were reeling from the dream. You heard the soft chirping of chaffinches and the soft rustling of the leaves. The normally comforting sounds of day instead brought a sense of dread in the air, as if the nightmare that visited you had left an imprint on the atmosphere.

As you remove yourself from bed and began washing yourself in front of the mirror you noticed A thin sheen of sweat coated your brow, and when you shifted you felt an odd ache between your legs. Worry began to nestle within your chest, could the lord see your dreams? Will he know about the vile, carnal, utterly strange thoughts that came to you?

You had neither had intentions to act on anything nor the carnal desire others held. You would repent for this, pray for forgiveness and to banish the image from your mind entirely. Out of thought, out of mind, you repeat to yourself in your mind as you readied yourself.

It’s important to note each house of God has different rules, in this one they are extremely picky about who they allow to work inside. Though it was increasingly clear it desperately needed some changes. To start, proper sleeping areas and a better way to heat the stone building. Perhaps more windows as well, it was extremely dark inside, midday felt more like midnight.

Everyone had made themselves scarce after breakfast, a small meal of bread and cheese that the farmers were kind enough to provide the church. It was a Sunday which meant communion would be held later in the evening. You attempted to make yourself busy in the meanwhile traveling around the town to feel out the people, culture and whatnot. It’s very important to know whom you would be spreading the word of the lord to.

The hallways within the cathedral were dimly lit, torches lined the walls instead of the usual decorative windows. There were few people around during the day and you encountered none of them. It seemed eerily empty, lacking something you could not put a name to. The wooden floorboards creaked as you walked across them and the grandiose door made a wicked screeching noise as you pried them open.

You felt lighter as you stepped outside, you felt lighter as you stepped outside, as if a weight was lifted from your shoulders and the dust no longer filled your airways. How odd, you thought to yourself, no house of God had made you feel like that before. You shook your head, starting your venture outside the confines of your home. The sleet had turned the soil into mud and the clouds remained dreary but at least the sun was starting to peak over the distant clouds.

Without hesitation you made your way through town, taking note of the way people eyed you suspicious and the caution everyone exuded while walking around the church. A scrawny man with a scraggly beard and rotting clothes strode towards your direction, probably going to visit the single alcohol serving establishment. You decided to attempt to speak to him, “excuse me, sir?”

He seemed completely uninterested as he avoided meeting your eyes. “S-sir? Doth thou hast a instant-” The man paused in his steps, turning around to meet your face. “You’re new, aren’t thou? Shipped 'i from another country i'd wager.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, glad he was willing to converse. “Only a few countries away,” you lightly jested.

He let out a sigh of disappointment, almost gazing at you with pity in your eyes. “If you’re as smart as thou sound, sister, i would turn tail and flee.” Before you could muster up the courage to ask him why, the man continued. "Aye since that priest came around everything’s been strange. Don’t say to me thou haven’t noticed aught?” You opened your mouth to return the sentiment, perhaps ask more questions, but the sound of the church bells caught you off guard, the bells signaling the start of service. The man gave you a curt nod before continuing his trek.

You nearly fell over yourself trying to walk back to your temporary home. The doors were open, though there was hardly any people inside. Just as you stepped through the threshold you heard the doors close, the heavy wood clanging together loudly and shutting you out. A sudden wave of panic hit you, instead of feeling safe locked away in the house of god, you felt panicked.

You kept your head down as you walked to the front, seating yourself farthest from the altar. You closed your eyes, readying yourself for opening prayer.

“We gramercy, our father, for that life which thou've discovered to us by jesus, thy son, by whom thou made all things, and take care of all of the world-”

The insistent pounding of your heart beat berated your eardrums, drowning out the flurry of voices around you. A part of you worried someone could read your mind, see what you saw last or heard the distrust for your church evident in your innermost thoughts. No longer did you feel pure enough to partake in any ceremony and if you could, you would flee to your chambers.

“Eternal god, we bid thou 'i the name of thy son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those whom receive it. That they may eat 'i remembrance of the corporal agent of thy son, and witness thee, o god.”

You were drawn back to the start of the communion, realizing you must have blacked out to miss so much. It felt as if time moved differently, you could swear you had just sat down.

“Holy God, we bid thou 'i the name of thy son Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this wine to the souls of all those whom receive it. That they may posset 'i remembrance of the blood of the lord which was shed for 'em”

Father Aegon’s voices boomed and bounced against the stone walls. It resounded in your head, as if it had come from within. You watched with careful eyes as the followers of Christ walked the aisles, one by one lining up in front of him. It was your turn now to stand and retake communion, as was required of nuns who moved sects. A part of you wanted to just sit and not join the line, but the fear of being shamed was far greater than the woe.

Your legs felt weak as you stood, your muscles nearly denying your pleas to move. You felt guilt weighing down your soul, as if divine punishment was awaiting. You shuffled along, eyes casted towards the ground as you gripped your dress. The Father was looking at, you could feel his eyes as you moved forward. From the tone of his voice he appeared disinterested in every other participant. Nervously, you stepped onto the last step, his form looming over you.

Father Aegon’s eyes bore into yours as they glimmered, unnatural they were, but he would just deny the accusation. He presented the host, and carefully he placed it in your mouth. His eyes studied the way your tongue nervously peeked out of your mouth, the way your large pupils stared into his own with such innocence and devotion.

Aegon imagined you would look even better on your knees.

“The body of Christ,” he proclaimed as he studied the way your throat moved as you swallowed the host. “Amen,” you mumbled out so quietly even his advanced set of ears struggled to hear. Your eyes watched him carefully as he turned to pass the chalice of wine to you. Quite the attentive little thing you were.

A moment later, he handed you the chalice with a light smile. The golden cup was unsteady as your hands trembled for an unknown reason. A strange feeling continued to creep up your spine as you lost yourself in his gaze. Perhaps it was due to the fact you hadn’t seen a man with his appearance in your entire life. If you were allowed to think such, he could be considered devastatingly beautiful.

The liquid slipped from the chalice and into your mouth. Instead of the warmth of Christ coating your senses, you felt your throat constrict and a harsh itch causing you to choke. You nearly dropped the holy cup to the floor as you tried to force yourself to swallow, his hand caught it before it could hit the floor, eyebrows raised as he studied you closely, listening to the rapid beat of your heart.

It burned in an unfamiliar way, as if you were being poisoned, and soon the taste of the communion wine coated your mouth with its putrid flavor you weren’t used to. Panic settled in your veins as your mind raced with explanations, fear of damnation.

Aegon smiled a small, amused grin which caught you off guard. He looked deeply into your eyes, his own burning with a mix of hunger as one hand slowly rose to wipe the wine from your lip. You couldn't look away as he brought his finger to his mouth and licked the liquid away, humming lowly. “Tastes like shit, doesn’t it?”

Your breath caught in your throat as your mouth gaped in shock. This was your Lord's blood, this was a sacred ceremony. How could he say something so vulgar. Aegon cleared his throat, lazily moving his hands to make the sign of the cross. “The blood of Christ,” he spoke louder than necessary. “Amen.”

You bowed your head, fingers gripping tightly onto the hem of your dress as you scurried away. The rest of mass you sat in utter silence, your gaze casted onto the floor. What the hell was happening to you? You had accidentally disassociated throughout the rest of communion, whatever prayers and hymns were sung you did not hear. You denied Marishka’s invitation to supper, instead running straight to your room to find solace in isolation.

Sleep once again eluded you the night after communion. It did not matter how much you tossed and turned, the sheets felt suffocating and your blood burned beneath your skin. Each time you began to drift your mind wandered where it shouldn’t, thoughts you hadn’t had before crept into your subconscious. Why did you choke? You’d never done anything like that before.

It felt as if the wine itself was rejecting you, deeming you unholy and not worthy of swallowing it. That terrified you, what had you done to deserve such a punishment? Nothing, you’ve done nothing in your existence that was against neither god nor man. You sat in bed, tearing the cloth that shielded you from prying eyes. It was better, but it was not enough. You swiftly leaned over in bed, pushing the tiny window up so the cold air could enter. Finally, your lungs seemed to inhale deeper, a blanket of ice wrapping around your flesh and easing the constant heat.

Out of thought and out of mind you murmured to yourself as you laid back down, out of thought and out of mind, out of thought and out of mind, out of thought-

In your dreams you mindlessly roamed the halls, drawn to an unknown location. Through the darkness you eyed a crack in a doorway, golden light emitting into the hallways. You stalked closer, carefully angling yourself so you could peek inside without being caught. It took you a moment to recognize the sounds, quiet giggles, panting breaths, soft murmurs, and vulgar noises coming from a female. It made your skin crawl.

You could make out three figures on the lavish bed, which you noted was much more posh than your own. Their bodies intertwined around each other and fully nude. There was something strange about it, each of them were glistening as if their skin was damp with water. Quietly, you sunk to your knees, bending your neck so you could truly focus in. As your pupil dilated, your mouth gaped in shock, thank god no noise came out.

They were there, you mean, the sisters and a strange man were all there. Their skin covered in what you could only assume was blood due to the red tint and they were… coupling. Or were they devouring him? Quickly you rose to your feet, silently scurrying away to not draw attention. Your heart raced as you neared your chambers, reaching your hands out into the darkness grasping for salvation.

Your body collided with something hard, arms reaching around to blindly grab hold of it. The pale moonlight illuminated the silver locks adorning his head, violet eyes and white teeth glowing against the dark. Priest Aegon. You looked back down in shame, your eyes had deceived you. You were not in the halls, no. Instead, in his chamber.

“Are thou alright, sister?” He asked in a gentle voice, a hand resting on your cheek, caressing the warm skin. You aren’t sure why your body refused to move or why your hands refused to release their hold on him. It felt as if your blood had turned into lead, weighing you down. Your eyes trailed up to his face, purposefully avoiding the lack of clothing or cotton bottoms he adorned which hid nothing.

“I- Methinks I was sleepwalking.”

Aegon’s fingers pulled your chin up, the corner of his lip tugging into a grin. Your brain was a fog, a mist, unable to process what was happening. He was leaning in, and the smell of wine and musk blinded your sense. You felt his lips brush past your ear, a chill running down your spine.

“And thy subconscious brought thou to me. Could it be that you’ve been dreaming of me?” The words were whispered like a secret, a taboo, a forbidden thing. Aegon’s words enticed you, which they shouldn’t, it is immoral and sinful. Your heart raced at the thought, “yes,” you breathed out.

Your hand reached up to rest against his bare chest, feeling his heart thump in the same erratic pace. “I’ve been dreaming of thou too, little lamb.” A hand found its way to your neck, his lips grazing over yours as he spoke. “Each time, thou devote yourself to me merely and i consume thou wholly. Keeping thou inside me eternally.” Your stomach flipped, a tightness building in the pit of your abdomen. It was sinful, it was wrong, it was utterly obscene.

And yet you sunk further into him, lips parting and inviting him to ravish you. His hands slipped under your dress, cupping your bottom and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso, his cock pressing against your sensitive region. Aegon climbed on top in a familiar way, his soft lips dancing with yours.

Your head felt fuzzy and light, the sensation of his touch overwhelming and euphoric. You lost control of yourself, abandoning the vows and purity you swore. You were so lost, consumed by lust and sin. He pressed his hips against yours, rubbing against you. Aegon’s lips trailed down your jaw, peppering kisses along your neck.

He moved away from you and for a moment you mourned his touch, yearning to have him close to you once more. You observed him with lidded eyes as he kneeled down between your thighs. He was beautiful, a divine image of an angel sent to heal you. “I wonder if you taste as sweet as your scent, little lamb.” The father muttered before pushing up the skirts of your dress, he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

The warmth of his breath tickling the most sacred area. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding them down. Aegon licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, the sensation sending shockwaves into your body. You couldn't help but completely lose yourself to him. You never imagined such pleasure could be given, and by a man of god.

The father's tongue circled your clit, sucking on it gently. Aegon pulled away and pushed a finger inside you, a quiet gasp escaped your lips, a foreign pleasure spreading through you. He began to pump his finger in and out of you, curling his fingers, stroking a bundle of nerves that sent electricity through your body.

Your head began to spin, pleasure consuming your every thought. A pressure began to build within you, an indescribable sensation that only grew. His tongue traced intricate patterns onto your core, suckling on the sensitive bundle. ”p-please father,” you begged, though you were not sure what. Aegon chuckled and the vibrations made your eyes roll in the back of your skull. Your sense of reality had all but abandoned you, your head was stuck in the cloud as if you had ascended to heaven.

You felt your body shake and the tension in your abdomen snap. It was as if your soul was torn out of you, the euphoria so intense it was almost painful. You felt dazed, lost in a trance, and unable to move. However, as you glanced up you no longer saw your angelic priest.

Instead, a demon gazed down upon you. The beautiful face now morphed into a twisted image, fangs protruding from its jaw, and eyes glowing a sinister crimson. Its mouth opened, a forked tongue slipping out and licking a path up your thigh. Your mind started to clear, terror seeping its way in your heart, and before you could scream for help it sunk its fangs deep within the flesh.

knock knock

You jolted awake, grabbing the skin around your neck and chest as your frantic breathing cut through the silence. It was only a nightmare, you muttered to yourself. You shifted in place, feeling something cool beneath your bum. Gazing down at the creased sheets, the sight of a sopping wet spot on the cloth made your stomach churn.

knock knock knock

“Sister! Tis time to wake!” The door handle wiggled, the sound of locks echoed throughout the room. “Y-yes, sister!” Hurriedly you rushed to the water basin to try and clean off the sinful stain, but as you stood your head began to pound. It was as if a needle pricked at the backs of your eyes. To add further to the misery, an instant dizziness overtook you as your legs buckled beneath you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

Horror flooded into your veins, was this a divine punishment for what happened in your thoughts? It was pure carnal desire, a disgusting and immoral craving. This was a divine warning, a sign that if you don't rectify your sins soon you will be punished. You scrambled to your feet, putting on the clothes necessary to venture to the altar and pray for forgiveness.

You flung open the door and hurried out, leaving a bewildered sister behind. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, passing a group of befuddled visitors in your wake. Tears streamed down your face as the weight of your actions began to crush you. As soon as you reached the altar seating in front of the statue of God himself you fell to your knees.

The sickness he has placed upon you was a warning, the dreams you were having were cursed. You felt as if eyes were always watching, a shadow lurking around every corner. The walls seemed to be closing in on you, the air thick with regret. You bowed your head, clasping your hands together in front of you.

You prayed on your knees every day for the next week. Each night you dreamt of him, he was a devil, a temptress pulling you into sin. You had to rid yourself of the thoughts. Each day, you would pray, and each night you would dream. Your own mind began eating itself alive, the constant fear and paranoia taking its toll on your body. There wasn’t a day in the past weeks where you did not feel exhausted or sickly.

It was only an amount of time before you fell from grace, perhaps died from stress. You have felt like an animal hiding in the skin of a holy nun. No matter how many times you scrubbed yourself, you still felt the filth from your nights. It was only a matter of time until they found out, until the others saw. It was past time you confessed to your crimes and beg the lord directly for forgiveness, you could let these ill feelings fester no longer.

You’d never had to take a confessional in your life except for when you first became a sister. Since then, you have remained in good standing. It was an awkward thing, especially since the only confessor was the priest. You knew you could tell him anything, he was the voice of god, yet a larger part of you was frightened too.

The idea of seeing him, knowing what you dreamt, was terrifying. But you had no choice, you needed to seek repentance, or else your mind would eat itself alive. As you walked to the confessional, a familiar feeling of eyes burning holes in the back of your skull followed. You begrudgingly pushed through, waltzing towards the steps of the lord. It was darker than usual, the storm brewing outside mimicking your internal warfare. The quiet cracks of distant lighting illuminating the statue of Christ, in a haunting way.

It lacked a confessional, though one was being built in the far side of the room, until the carpenter disappeared. Unfinished and unused it sat and a part of you envied it, for now you felt sullied. The soft pitter patter of footsteps approaching from the hall echoed throughout the chapel, growing closer. A lump formed in your throat, nerves eating you from the inside. You felt him kneel next to you, his head tilting to gaze at you. “Come to confess, little lamb?” His words came out in a purr. The script you had rehearsed vanished into the void and your mouth dried up. “How’d thou wot?”

Aegon raised a hand and tucked a stray hair under your veil. “I’ve taken notice of thy ailments as I hast taken notice of the lack of thy presence. I wot all that goes on inside these walls.”

“Then I suppose I hast no choice,” you sucked in a deep breath, chewing at your bottom lip. Aegon beckoned you to continue, his face laced with curiosity and understanding. “Forgive mine, Father for I hast sinned,” the words rushed out of your throat. “I hast been having dreams of late. The most intricate and vivid dreams I hast had ere. 'i mine sleepless nights I see things that I shouldn’t and doth things with thou that are deemed unholy. I betray mine God and worship only thou. ” You released the breath you were holding, awaiting his response.

He moved closer to you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. "Tis not wrong to worship I, his voice and his will join through me. I grant thou what he not, if only thou speak to me.” Aegon’s violet eyes gleamed, and his smile divine yet twisted. “Wouldst thou like to live eternally? Wouldst thou like to feel ecstasy?”

“What will you from me?” The words left you silently, your own voice unrecognizable to your ear. "Remove thy dress as I will guide thou thumb," His hand slipped from the veil and caressed the soft skin of your cheek, a thumb grazing your lips. His hand caressed yours, his warm touch sinking your mind further into the clouds. At first, you moved away, some semblance of sense still lingering within.

“Dost thou not desire what I giveth freely?” Aegon’s eyes were so magnetic, pulling you closer into his gravity. You could not deny him, nor did you want to. You shook your head quietly, beckoning him to continue. He guided your hands to the string lacing together your blouse, pulling them apart. One by one the threads popped, a slow and tantalizing pace. The fabric slid off your shoulders, exposing the tender skin underneath. Your heart beat flurried, some remnant of holiness trying to will you to stop. “Such beautiful skin thou hast,” Aegon murmured, his nose brushing against your neck.

A soft kiss was pressed into the side of your neck, his teeth lightly dragging along the flesh. You gasped, your eyes closing. You were lost in a fog, unable to think clearly or make rational decisions. Father Aegon guided your hands to the waist of his skirt, slowly pulling it down. Your eyes shot open, watching his cock spring free from the cloth.

The tip was a soft pink, one large vein running down the middle. You were clueless as to what to do. You felt his fingers slip under your veil, gripping onto your hair. “I will guide thy mouth,” he purred, as if he read your mind. Father Aegon stood up, “like this,” his hand guided yours, stroking him slowly.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against the tip, the skin velvety and hot. Your tongue darted out, licking his tip. You could feel him throb within your grip, his eyes glazing over with lust. Father Aegon pushed your head down, forcing the head past your lips.

His hips began to rock, pushing deeper into your mouth. It was difficult not to choke, the saliva in your mouth gathering quickly. The sounds of his pleasure were like choirs of angels to your ears, serenading you into a trance. Your jaw ached, drool dribbling down the side of your mouth and the length of him.

He pushed your head down, his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes welled with tears and he admired their glistening beauty. You were utterly perfect for him, he decided, a divine blessing. You tried your best to keep up with his pace, but the dull ache between your legs blinded you. A few small whimpers escaped your throat as you dropped your hand to ease the feeling between your thighs. Aegon released your head, a strand of spit connecting his cock and your lips.

Father Aegon gripped your cheek, colliding his lips with yours. He devoured you as if it was his last meal, as if your lips were the sole path to redemption. His tongue darted out, swirling around your mouth and relishing in your sweet taste. Your mind grew hazy, lack of breath making you dizzy, but you could not pull back. You had desired his touch more than you have ever before.

You whimpered into his mouth, the feeling of his body pressed against yours was indescribable. His firm hands gripped your waist, pushing you on the ground. “Thou look so ethereal underneath me,” he panted out in between breaths. “Wouldst thou like to feel me inside thee.” Aegon rubbed his cock against your heat, your juices coating him.

“P- please Father, I need thou,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his torso pulling him closer. “Needy little lamb, aren’t thou?” His cock pressed into, slowly stretching you to fit him. You let out a moan, a sound you didn’t know you could make. Your fingers found their way into his dress shirt, gripping onto him as he pushed himself inside you.

“Confess sister, how did you allow me to defile you,” he thrusted inside you, filling you completely. You could not think straight, his cock hitting the bundle of nerves that made you squirm. “Confess,” he beckoned before he began slipping himself out of you. “N-no I confess,” you whimpered. Aegon began to slam back into you, a rhythmic pace that made you see stars.

“I- I confess father, I let thou defile me, I dream of thou fingers inside m-” Aegon suckled on your ear, “more,” he growled. “I- I- I dream of your tongue bringing me p- pleasure- every night.” He thrusted into you harder, the sounds of his cock slamming inside you echoing.

He was a god, a divinity sent to bring you to madness and bliss. Aegon had bewitched you body, mind, and soul as you him. “I dreamt thou devouring me,” you screamed out, your legs shaking. Aegon grabbed your hips, digging his nails into the skin to keep you in place. “Wouldst thou like to stay with me forever?” The father’s hips snapped as he pushed deep inside, his cock pulsating. You could feel him inside your womb, his hand pressing down on your lower stomach to feel himself.

Your head spun as the coil inside you began to unwind, the intensity of ecstasy blurring your being. “Y- yes Aegon,” you whimpered out, tears welling in your eyes. His thrusts began to stutter, his pace faltering. Your cunt tightened around him,the muscles in your stomach clenched as a wave of pleasure began to overcome you. “Dost thou swear thyself to me forever,” he whimpered.

“Aegon!” you screamed out, eyes fluttering open. The coil in your stomach snapped, eyes widening moments before you saw his fangs sink into your neck…

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (54)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, character death ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond was awakened by a loud female scream. He pulled himself up on the bed convinced that it was a dream and involuntarily reached his hand to his side, instinctively wanting to check that his wife and their child in her womb were safe.

He froze feeling the cold bedding under his fingers and turned his terrified gaze in that direction. He looked around the chamber, his heart pounding like mad.

Where was she?

He heard a sudden commotion outside his chamber door, the raised voices of the guards, the clack of their armour and blades. He rose quickly from his bed, putting on his trousers and chemise in a hurry, and ran out of his room without even putting on his eyepatch, bumping into a terrified Aegon.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly, following him, he saw that the door to Helaena's and their children's rooms was wide open.

"I don't know, she said she'd be back in a moment, that she'd just check on the children." He mumbled as he stepped inside, both of them squinting, not seeing much in the darkness.

It took Aemond a moment to notice the silhouettes kneeling on the floor, he could hear the loud sobbing of Aegon's daughter and the loud breathing of the other two women.

He moved quickly forward spotting his wife, infuriated, lifting her upright.

"What are you doing here? Why did you leave my chamber?" He asked furiously shaking her, but she didn't look at him only sideways, her mouth wide open, her gaze terrified, her whole body trembling.

It was only a moment later that he heard the miserable wail of his brother as he fell beside his sister-wife, pressing his face against something pale lying on the floor.

Only after a while did he recognise his nephew's face in it.

He felt his heart pounding like mad, for a moment he was unaware of what was going on around him, he clenched his hands tightly on his wife's shoulders and pressed her to him, wanting to be sure that nothing would happen to her as long as he held her close.

"Floris is dead. Someone cut her throat." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard her. "They mistook her for me."

He felt his whole body tremble in a powerful shudder, his throat constricted, his lips tightened. He felt like he was having trouble breathing, he didn't hear the shouts of his mother, who came running to them hearing the commotion, he didn't hear the words of Ser Criston telling him that they were all to move to the Small Council room until the guards had searched the entire keep and made sure everyone was safe.

He, his wife, Otto, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, their daughter and Royce sat in sepulchral silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, no one daring to speak. He stroked his chin in a nervous gesture looking ahead with a blank stare, terrified, furious.

"I told you not to wait." Aegon whispered, his face covered by his hands. "I said to burn that whore at once along with her children in Dragonstone when we had the chance."

He said, but no one answered him. Otto raised an eyebrow, tapping his finger on the table.

"I know that I am no longer the Hand of the King, however, after today's events we are faced with a problem that must be solved. After the death of my great-grandson, the line of succession has changed anew. In order to maintain your right to the throne over Rhaenyra your successor must be a male. So, for the moment, the direct heir to the Iron Throne is Aemond, and if his wife gives birth to a son, he will be next in the line of succession until Helaena gives birth to another son herself." He said coldly, and he shivered all over, glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye, her face shocked and terrified, her hands clenched on her womb trembling all over.

She looked at him and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

He had craved this so much all his life, but now that it was at his fingertips he felt nothing but fear.

The realisation that she was going to die that night, that she was the one he was going to find in the morning with her throat cut didn't allow him to think or reflect on anything, he felt stunned and empty, as if something had burst inside him.

Why had she left without his knowledge?

By what right was she walking alone in the keep at night?

He shuddered as Aegon's voice snapped him out of the advancing darkness and fume that was engulfing his mind.

"Must we speak of this now that my son is dead? Because of you, because of your plotting, because of your fucking greed! Fucking Otto Hightower, The King without a Crown!" He roared across the room so that everyone looked at him in horror, no one daring to speak or move.

Aemond had never seen him like this before.

Aegon leaned over the table, slapping his finger against his chest. He was smiling, tears were running down his face, Helaena touched his arm in a gesture of comfort.

"This was my child. My first-born son. And all you think about is the fucking Iron Throne, the succession. Go and sit on it, put Aegon the Conqueror's crown on your head, all knowing that you're probably getting hard just thinking about it! Fucking old fool!" He growled; Helaena tried to silence and calm him, trembling herself.

Everyone looked towards the entrance when the door opened, Cole and several other guards stepped inside.

"In Lady Baratheon's chamber we found the body of her sister, Floris. Our suspicions have been confirmed, the hired assassin probably mistook them for each other." He said, and Aemond swallowed loudly, running his hand over his face. He felt his wife's fingers on his thigh.

She was going to die.

She and their child.

He would sit alone, there would be an empty seat next to him.

He felt a powerful shiver run through him and he struggled to restrain himself not to vomit.

"My beloved, calm down." She whispered to him and he looked at her with eyes filled with the desire to slaughter her.

"We will talk in our chamber." He hissed coldly and she swallowed loudly, looking at him horrified.

After an hour, they decided that Aegon and Helaena needed to rest before taking drastic measures and moved the council meeting to the morning.

As soon as they left the hall Aemond grabbed his wife firmly by her arm and dragged her into their chamber with a brutality that terrified her. She squealed loudly as he literally shoved her inside, closing the door with a slam, five armed guards stood outside their chamber.

He could see that she was looking at him with fear, her whole body was trembling, clutching the spot on her arm that he had squeezed so painfully tight a moment ago. He approached her looking down at her.

"Did I let you leave my chamber?" He asked lowly and she opened her mouth slowly, her lower lip trembling as she tried to coax out an answer.

"I just wanted to…"

"DID I LET YOU LEAVE MY CHAMBER?!" He growled grabbing her cheeks with his hand so hard she sobbed in pain, tears streaming down her face, she looked at him pleadingly, breathing fast and unevenly, terrified.

"I asked you a simple fucking question." He hissed, his fingers dug hard into her skin and she squealed in pain.

"− no - I'm sorry − I'm sorry −" She mumbled out with difficulty, shaking with dread and terror, he could see in her gaze that she didn't recognise him and was afraid of him.

He felt his jaw tremble in the realisation that he might have lost her, that she might have come across the man who had cut her sister's throat, and if he had seen her and realised his fatal mistake, he would have finished his work.

He felt like he was falling into a black, endless abyss of madness at that thought.

"− I have given you too much freedom - you will never again leave my chamber without my permission − do you understand? −" He growled, shaking her head aggressively, and she nodded quickly, sobbing quietly, clenching her eyes, tears streaming down her red face.

He looked at her, at the face of his beloved wife who had just carried his offspring under her heart, and began to wonder what he was actually doing.

He let her go suddenly, frightened by the realisation of what he had done, looking at her with wide eyes, and she moved away from him clutching her cheeks, looking at him with fear and pain, so frightened that she dared not move from her place.

He turned and walked over to the table on which the jug of wine stood feeling as if it was all a dream. He had the impression that everything around him was a blur and trembling, and with difficulty he grabbed the ear of the jug and poured himself a full cup.

He grasped it, pressing it to his lips and drank its entire contents greedily hearing the mother of his child struggling to breathe behind his back.

She needed him, and he was unable to give her comfort, being devastated himself.

He felt that something had crumbled inside him, leaving only shards of him that he didn't know what to do with. He realised that as long as his whore sister was alive, he would never sleep a peaceful night again.

He glanced over his shoulder hearing a quiet rustling and saw his wife lay down on their bed like a ghost. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, lying with her back to him, her whole body quivering.

He approached her slowly pulled by some incomprehensible, subconscious urge, lay down behind her back and embraced her, placing his hands on her womb, drawing her close, melting his face into her hair. She did not reciprocate his gesture.

"Forgive me. I'm terrified." He whispered and heard her swallow hard, breathing with difficulty.

"I'm terrified too. But as always, when I need you, when I am at my most vulnerable, you are hurting me." She mumbled, pressing her face into the pillow, trying to pull away from him. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her back.

"I know. I know, my sweetest. Forgive me."

But this time she didn't forgive him.

He knew he had crossed a line, that he had irretrievably destroyed something.

He felt empty.

She meekly obeyed his order and did not leave his chamber, asking her servants to bring her books, which she then read. She did not speak or look up to him, did not reciprocate his touch or gaze.

He knew he had failed her.

He tried to make it right, but he didn't know what to say, what words would make up for what he had done to her, how he had treated her. He knew she didn't deserve it, that he had poured all his rage and fear at her when she needed him to just embrace her.

The familiar feeling of shame that he remembered so well from his childhood filled his chest and he felt like he had regressed to a state before he met her.

The only thing that had changed for the better was his relationship with Aegon.

The two of them, united by their grief and unhappiness, had discussed for hours in the Small Council chamber how to end the matter of the Blacks once and for all.

His brother was unable to recover from the death of his son, but his and his sister's grief brought them even closer together, he knew that Helaena and their daughter spent every night in his chamber.

He, unlike him, was able to show them care, to protect them when they needed it. He did not understand how it was possible that suddenly their roles were reversed, and it was his own wife who refused to look at his face, sad and pale.

They both knew that Rhaenyra was only waiting for them to make a move, knowing that they would want revenge, but they understood that they could not act rashly, that they had to wait for the right moment.

The advantage of strength was still on their side.

He watched from the sidelines as his wife's abdomen swelled from his child, she had increasing difficulty moving and bending over as she helped him bathe. She continued to do this despite not speaking to him.

The thought that she was preserving their ritual was the only thing keeping him over the edge of despair.

However, one day when he entered their chamber, seeing that a tub full of hot water filled with his favourite oils was waiting for him as usual, he suddenly got an idea and decided that this was the way to show her what he had been feeling for the past long weeks.

"From now on, I'll be the one to help you bathe, if you'll let me." He said softly. She gasped and looked at him surprised, the first time in a long time he had noticed a sparkle in her gaze.

She swallowed quietly, pressing her lips together and tilted her head as if considering his words. She nodded.

He approached her without a word and reached up to untie her sleeves, slowly helping her pull off all the layers of her gown. When she was left in her nightgown he slipped it off her looking at her body, her gaze downcast, thoughtful.

He lifted her chin with a gentle movement, forcing her to look at him. He was silent for a moment, looking into her bright eyes filled with sadness.

"I will always love you." He whispered with difficulty, feeling his voice break and tremble, betraying his desperation, his longing, his overwhelming remorse.

She pressed her lips together at his words, her brow arching in pain, her eyes turning red. He ran his finger over her lower lip, and she put her hand over his for the first time since that night.

He drew her to him and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her almost tentatively, holding her cheeks, which he then squeezed so tightly, with tenderness and gentleness in his large hands, wanting to make up to her for what he had done, to show her that he didn't want this at all, that what she was experiencing now was what he really desired.

Her hands tightened on his wrists, her lips brushed his, enveloping his skin with her warm breath, giving him the sign that he could continue, that this time she would not reject him. He felt a tightening in his lower abdomen, having not experienced fulfilment with her for weeks he hungered for her closeness.

He took her in his arms and laid her on the bed with her back to him, laying behind her, untying the bindings of his trousers. Before he entered her he caressed her for a long time with his fingers, his lips pressed against hers the whole time, sucking and licking them, taking his time, wanting to show her that this time it was her fulfilment that was most important.

Only when she came under his hand, when her sticky moisture spilled over his fingers did he dare to slide inside her, his movements slow and steady, deep, filled with desire for closeness, tenderness. He sped up, tightening his hand on her hip only when they were both beginning to pant, her walls started to clench rhythmically again, bringing her closer to another fulfilment.

He cummed inside her with a loud sigh of relief, holding her warm body close, his face snuggled into her neck. Her hand stroked his arm reassuringly as his soft member continued to throb inside her, they both laid enjoying their closeness after so many days of cruel separation due to his fault.

Then he lifted her body gently, carrying her to the bathtub filled with not so hot water anymore, laying her comfortably in it, slowly and unhurriedly repeating all the steps she always did. He washed her hair, stroked and rubbed her body and found some solace in this, a way of showing how much he needed her, how significant she was to him.

He did this every day from then on.

He didn't tell her about his and Aegon's plans, what they discussed behind closed doors. He was afraid that if she found out, she would lose their child out of fear.

Now that he was Hand of the King he had more responsibilities and he tried to perform them as best he could, but they both knew that as long as the Usurper lived they would not have peace.

He knew that by now the news must have reached her that her assassin had made a mistake, that his wife was still alive. Aegon was heartbroken when it emerged that the person who had let in the man who murdered his son was the maid he had once raped.

She had been sentenced to death after maintaining on torture that no one else had helped her, but his brother-king knew that this made him partly to blame for what had happened.

He changed, but he did so far too late.

Many things were irretrievably lost and could no longer be repaired.

The marriage of Royce and Lord Greyjoy's granddaughter in the Great Sept sealed the Greyjoys' alliance with the Greens. For safety reasons, the nuptials and wedding were not as lavish as originally planned, though there was concern that Rhaenyra would want to take advantage of the concentration of so many people in one place. His wife struggled to endure the entire ceremony standing up, clinging to his arm for support.

He thought that while Royce did not look happy, he did not look heartbroken either, and neither did his wife. They seemed to him to be fashioned from the same clay, direct but essentially warm and strong. Although he would never tell him this, he wished them to succeed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife thinking about what he was going to do that night and felt a tightening in his stomach.

Rhaenyra had not suspected they would attack her on the day of the wedding.

The Greyjoy ships had already set sail late in the evening, going out to meet the Velaryon fleet lurking near Dragonstone.

He had left his wife during the feast telling her that he and his brother still needed to discuss a few things, and she simply believed him.

She smiled at him, since they were close again trying not to fall into despair. She blinked and popped up, surprised when he suddenly leaned over her and kissed her in the presence of everyone gathered, holding her cheeks in his hands and not letting her go for a long moment.

He pulled away from her and looked at her for a moment with a pounding heart, the surprise mingled with desire on her face.

"You know that I love you." He whispered, and she furrowed her brow, sensing that something was wrong, hearing that there was something strange and unsettling in his voice.

"Of course. I love you too, my beloved." She mumbled, and he hummed under his breath, let her go and stood up, heading for the entrance, his brother standing up right behind him.

He tried not to think about the fact that he wanted to cry.

Helaena had promised him that if he and their brother did not return, if Rhaenyra crushed them, she would take his wife, her daughter and their mother and flee to Essos on dragon's back.

All or nothing.

When they went down to the underground everything was ready, their servants were already waiting with their armours, which they quickly helped them put on. According to the plan they were to reach Dragonstone with their fleet, Aemond had to go behind Dragon's Pit, to the hill where Vhagar was resting.

He felt surprisingly calm.

As he took to the skies on his dragoness, when he saw the starry sky above him he imagined for reassurance that Daeron was flying beside him, as when they were heading for Eyrie. He glanced to the side and saw in the distance the silhouette of Sunfyre heading ahead in the darkness.

Two dragons against four.

He figured he had to deal with Rhaenys and Rhaenyra first.

Luke and Baela in Vhagar's eyes were mere dust.

They noticed as cannonballs and their fire began to light up the sea below them, the great battle of the fleets had begun, the Greyjoys had gone on the attack, taking the completely unprepared enemy by surprise. He spotted the silhouette of the Dragonstone in the distance and ordered Vhagar to breathe fire.

He hoped they would burn in their beds.

Their guards and their army tried to shoot him and his brother down with crossbows, but they anticipated this and kept at a sufficiently high distance. Looking at them, he thought of Borros and his wife, of how they wanted to cut her throat, to kill her while she was carrying his child, and he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids, a rage, a hatred.

A madness.

He had a feeling that with the wave of fire from Vhagar's maw hitting the great stone fortress he was also releasing what he had always feared, but now, in this moment, he felt at last that he didn't have to be in his senses at all, that he didn't have to pretend anymore.

He laughed out loud, amused to hear the screams and cries of the Blacks soldiers, Sunfyre's fire completing the job and sweeping them away into the dust. He turned his head sideways when he spotted Meleys hovering in the air and immediately moved to meet her, unwilling to let her reach their fleet.

Pillars of fire from the mouths of their dragons collided with each other, then again and again, lighting up the black night sky with a warm glow. He saw Syrax and Moondancer flying behind her, but could not see Luke anywhere.

He thought she didn't want to lose another son, but he was sure he would take his life with his own hands that very night.

Aegon flew to his aid, flying above him, preventing Rhaenyra and Baela from attacking Vhagar from several directions.

The last Dance of the Dragons had begun.

The claws of Meleys clamped down on Vhagar's body, his dragoness let out a loud, furious roar of pain, almost throwing him off the saddle, he struggled to hold on to the thick ropes, trying to catch his balance.

He had lost control of her completely.

Vhagar threw herself at Meleys, who nimbly and quickly began to flee, burning the ships of the Greyjoy fleet along the way. Aemond ordered Vhagar to breathe fire, but it did nothing, Meleys was faster and lighter than her, Vhagar was unable to keep up with her.

He turned over his shoulder and saw the uneven fight Aegon was facing, Syrax and Moondancer attacking him from both sides. He saw his brother's face surrounded by flames and thought of Daeron.

He thought he would not lose another brother.

With a loud yell, he ordered Vhagar to turn back, tugging hard on the ropes and to his surprise, she obeyed him, changing course, turning back towards Sunfyre.

Syrax rushed at him in an attempt to shield Baela, fire escaped from her throat, however Vhagar opened her maw and clamped her fangs on the dragoness' flesh, tearing her apart, her squeals of pain echoing around them.

Moondancer rushed to her rescue, but Aegon blocked her path, forcing her to flee, Meleys coming towards them from the south, but there was nothing more she could do.

He watched with wild, frenzied satisfaction as Rhaenyra tangled in the saddle of her dragoness fell into the water with her, sinking into the depths of the sea.

He laughed happily, lightly, feeling that he had completely lost his mind, instead of grief and sadness he felt relief.

His sister-whore was dead.

He heard Rhaenys shouting to Baela, most likely telling her to turn back, knowing the case was lost, wanting to take Rhaena from Dragonstone and escape on dragon's back to Driftmark.

He thought he would never let that happen and set off after them in pursuit, Sunfyre right by his side. He glanced sideways at Aegon, the adrenaline must have stunned him at the pain, his whole face was covered in red burns, part of his skin was living flesh.

This time Meleys' focus was not on escaping, but on protecting Baela - and that was her mistake.

Sunfyre and Vhagar had a true feast that night.

When it was all over, when everything was a foregone conclusion, when they had burned the Velaryon fleet fleeing in terror, the Greyjoys stormed into Dragonstone.

Without the powerful army of the Starks and Arryns, their soldiers were defenceless.

He and Aegon landed side by side on the great stone bridge, Aegon fell from his saddle, only close up did Aemond see that his burns were in worse condition than he had originally assumed, his brother was unable to open his eyes.

"Take him to the Red Keep and treat him immediately. Protect your king." He ordered his soldiers, and he set off towards the stone fortress, wanting to do what he had always dreamed of doing.

He knew that Rhaenyra had surely envisaged a way out in the event of such a situation, that now it would be Luke who would claim his rights wherever he ran.

He had to end this once and for all.

He went inside with his soldiers, ordering them to search the underground, confident that they would try to escape through some secret passage.

He was not mistaken.

As he stepped into the room they had been brought into, Luke shielded Rhaena and Joffrey with his own body, as if to show him that he had courage in him, that he was not a coward. He laughed at this sight, spreading his arms as if to embrace him, the blood of the soldiers of the Blacks on his face, his dagger in his hand.

"My Lord Strong. Should I call you king now that your mother-whore is dead? Bring me her the crown." He growled to the Greyjoy vassal, one of the soldiers finding the golden crown his father wore in the things they were trying to escape with.

As if having it made him truly the heir to the throne.

Aemond smiled as the man handed him the object. He looked at it from all sides, and hummed under his breath as he approached him, Luke stepped back, horror on his face.

Aemond raised his hands and, with feigned reverence, placed the crown on his head. It was too big for him, it slid halfway down his forehead.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more pathetic sight.

"Lucerys Strong, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He exclaimed wistfully, laughing loudly as he looked around the room, the men surrounding him watching what was happening with curiosity and amusement.

Luke broke into tears.

He looked at him, not being able to believe that he was crying like a little, scared child.

He was afraid of death.

For a second he felt a sting in his chest, his throat squeezed tight.

He snorted, chasing the thought away, ridding himself of the remnants of conscience that still remained in his heart.

He threw his dagger at his feet with a nochalant movement.

"Before I kill you, I want you to put out your eye, as a payment for mine. I plan to make a gift to my mother."

By the time he returned to King's Landing on Vhagar, the sun was already rising. He looked at the outline of the Red Keep, his armour and hands, his hair, all dirty in blood, dust and sweat.

He felt free, he felt at peace at last, and although he knew that the screams and cries he heard that night would haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life, he explained to himself that he had done the right thing.

He had protected his wife and their child.

He protected his brother, his sister, his niece.

He had protected his mother and his grandfather.

Now they were safe.

Now at last he would be able to sleep.

His wife was waiting for him in his chamber, and when he entered she rose quickly, terrified, covering her face with her hands as if she were about to scream, her face pale and tired. He knew she had not slept that night, not knowing where he was, what had happened.

She couldn't make a sound, apparently thinking that the blood that coated his body, his hair and his armour belonged to him.

He approached her, knelt down in front of the bed she was kneeling on and hugged his face to her pregnant abdomen, a deep sigh of relief leaving his lips.

He had done the right thing.

"It is done."

____

Next chapter will be the last chapter of this series. My poor heart!

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[missglaskin]

Burn Them All Down

Note- I apologize for whatever cringe writing this is 

Characters: Jacaerys, Aemond, Aegon II

You are cruel and vain, but you’re still their sister and their greatest love. 

Tags: SMUT/EXPLICIT, toxic/unhealthy relationship, slapping, choking, dark!reader

Jacaerys 

Your brother always gave in to your desires. To your whims and wishes. But this was too far. “Kill him?” Your brother couldn’t hide the surprise evident in his features. Almost pulling your mouth away that wrapped itself around his cock. 

A sigh escapes your lips as you pull away. You thought you had him. And maybe you did. Your words had him in a trance and your mouth further engulfed him under the spell. Perhaps you should have used your words with more care, but it’s far too late now. 

“Yes dear brother,” you are to play along now. His eyes shine with doubt. And you resist the urge to roll your eyes when Jace declares he is a good man. The ‘good man’ is referred to the foolish lord your mother plans to marry you off to. All under the guise of bringing more allies to her side. 

You move to be face to face with Jace, a hand stroking his cock. He groans as the pleasure overtakes him once more. “He will take me away from you,” you whisper. Feeling his hips thrust into the grip you have on him. “Do you want me to be his, have him fuck me every night, make me carry his children,” his eyes darken the second those words sunk in. 

And you know you have him once again under your spell.

Aemond

I killed him. 

Were the first words that greeted you when your brother arrived from storm’s end. His face smeared with utter guilt as he sat on your mattress. Your brows raise at the mention of the name of your nephew. You couldn’t help the scoff that you let out. Is that what got him looking like a kicked puppy. Aemond wasn’t the slightest amused. 

His fury was stoked even further by your words. That this shouldn't bother him as such. That the brat would have died regardless. What proved to be the final nail in his coffin was the word spilled from your mouth, thrown at him; weak. And before you know it, a hand is wrapped around your throat. You only smile even when finding yourself struggling to breathe.

“Truly brother Luke took out your eye, were your balls taken along with it,” the only response you received was a tightening grip. Your hand reaches for his, nail pressed to the skin but not clawing at it. “You’re a cruel woman,” Aemond spat out, “Why did the gods make me want a cruel woman like you”.  In your struggle for air, you are able to utter the words. 

“Because no one will ever love you like I do,” his grip is still tight, but you can see his lips pressed into a thin line. He knows it’s true. Any woman would have shamed him, called him the worst of names, but you never did, never could. You opened your arms to his everlasting fire, accepted every part of him, the bad and the evil. As you expected, your mercy was given when he let go. The sound of the door opening and closing echoes. He will come back. He always did.

Aegon II

Convince him, your mother told you. It was the early morning right before your brother is to be crowned. Though you know for certain this wasn’t what she had in mind. Moans surrounding the chambers as you slowly feel his length fill you up. Aegon clutches your body close to his, eyes looking up at yours. 

The both of you are on the floor as you raise yourself up and down on his cock. All while your brother is currently underneath you, wearing his supposed king attire that’s now all wrinkled along with his hair being such a mess. The same could be said for you, sweat covering both of your bodies. “I don’t want it,” your brother told you for the numerous time. 

Your fingers tightly gripped his jaw, “You have to,” you demanded. There’s no other choice. Rhaenyra will kill the lot of you. Still, your brother wasn’t convinced and you stopped moving your hips. A whine of surprise escapes your brother when your hand collides with his cheek. It stings, but you also feel his cock twitch inside you. Your hands move to grab his cheeks causing his lips to pout. “Do you wish for your death? For me to be killed?” Aegon doesn’t respond. 

And you just sigh. Feeling like you are slowly losing hope. He may have been a lost cause. But then you find yourself knowing the words to say. “Do you not want me to be your wife?” And Aegon shakingly nods. You resist smiling to yourself in the face of triumph. Hips moving again, noises once more start to leave him. Your hand left his face to his hair, yanking his head back. You utter the words before your lips capture his. 

“Then you must wear the crown”.