#floris and aemond

[crescenthoax]

IK the Floris Aemond reunion in the afterlife awkward asf (or maybe it didn’t happen bc he went to Hell)

His ass did not go to heaven that much I can tell you. And I truly hate the fact that she would kindly welcome him back because she has such a forgiving heart… Man.

[danxiex0]

When it comes to Omegaverse HoTD I don't think a lot of people realize the full potential of it.

Picture this:

Lucerys Velaryon is the first Omega born into the Targaryen line since the doom of Ol Valyria. He gets spoiled.

Rhaenyra has only the finest clothes made for him. Daemon will do anything his sweet Omegan son asks of him, even let the little Omega crawl into bed between the two Alpha's because he had a nightmare. Jace is overprotective. Joffrey is Daemons mini in regard to Luke. Rhaena and Baela love their precious little brother so much they would kill for him. Rhaenys would give into his demands, he doesn't even have to demand because the moment Luke wants something she'll give it to him. Corlys will bring him back only the finest pearls and jewels from his travels, the pearls get braded into his hair or sewed into his clothes, the same with the jewels.

So Lucerys gets what he wants, when he wants and if he's denied he has an army of people ready to demand he have it or else.

The whole Vaemond story still happens. Only difference is, Lucerys had asked Daemon and his grandsire not to kill him and instead send him to Grandsire Corlys so that he could deal with his little brother.

The Greens seethe at the fact that Luke doesn't even have to beg.

That night after the whole feast mishap Aemond corners Luke in his chambers and threatens to take his eye.

Lucerys goads his uncle because he was raised by Daemon 'Fuck around and Find out" Targaryen and in the end Aemond kisses him.

No love or passion. Just pure unadulterated rage.

Hate sex ensues, bc it's Lucemond what would you expect.

Aemond regrets it the next day. His repressed ass lashes out and says some very unsavory things, as one does.

Luke and his family leave Kings landing after that and the next time he and Aemond meet again is at Storms end.

Luke is there to deliver a message.

"I am not a dog your mother can just order around. At least King Aegon brings me a marriage pact. So, tell me boy. Which of my daughters will you marry?" Borros asked.

Lucerys looked at the girls. Three Betas and one Omega.

He looks at Aemond and feels his heartbeat quicken and then it stops at the reminder of that day.

'You are a whore just like your mother!'

'Wanton bastard!'

'You bewitched me! That is the only explanation for as to why I ended up in your bed between you whorish thighs!'

Such cruel words and he would swallow the now.

Lucerys looks at Lord Borros.

"Sadly, my Lord none of your daughters would be a suitable match for me as they are either Beta's or Omega. However, there are two Alpha's within this hall. Both of whom have a chance at my hand but only one is not betrothed at nor wed, my Lord," Lucerys said with a kind smile.

Lord Borros had his tongue paralyzed for but a moment before he asked, "What do you meen?"

Lucerys smiled as he could feel Aemonds anger radiating off him in waves.

"What I am saying is that even though I cannot marry your daughters I can still marry you. Think of it my Lord. Lord Borros Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands and Lucerys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Heir to Driftmark. We'd make a handsome pair, wouldn't we?" He asked with a shy smile.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Lord Borros agrees and two moons later Aegon II Targaryen bends the knee to his sister and Lord Borros marries Lucerys.

Even on his deathbed Borros never questions why his sons, Rhaegar, Rhaegor, Aenys, and Darke, and his daughters, Rhaella, Aemma, Lucera, Deanys, Daela, and Valeria have silver hair and purple eyes.

Nor does he question the closeness of his Omega bride Lucerys and his sworn shield Aemond.

[almondmilktargaryen]

Duty & Sacrifice (Part Three)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Mourning child loss (written by someone who's not a parent), lying

Word count: 4.6k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Just as when he left Flea Bottom, the guards do not look twice at Aemond as he walks through the Keep. They do not see his face, nor the two cloaks he wore (Criston gave him his to hide the blood). No, all they see is his boots as they bow upon passing. The only words they utter are, “My prince.” Aemond faces forward. His eye does not stray. And his head stays up.

He turns sharply after climbing the stairs, finding his chamber doors in the east wing. The guard outside mimics the expected behavior before Aemond pushes himself through.

Out of all things unexpected in one night, Floris being absent was jarring. She sticks to a routine, just like him. With the candles already snuffed out, the smell of smoke had been replaced by the open air from their balcony. She should’ve retired hours ago.

Perhaps the gods wanted to leave him alone after… all of it, reminding him how alone he truly was. Still, Aemond looks around, peering past corners and squinting into dark areas at the far ends of their chambers, straining his vision with the distance as he feels the chains in his chest. They weighed down his heart and lungs as he staggered and lifted the bedcovers. Caution camouflages with his grief and takes hold just as strongly. Floris could be anywhere.

The weight, the chains stacked on themselves. Aemond discards the cloaks and mixes them in their shared dirty clothes. The view of King’s Landing taunts him; the capital he once saw from a safe distance nearly two years ago. Even in daylight, the people were nothing more than specks of dust. None of them could hurt him. He never thought it would be the reason, once again, why he felt this way. It was only more proof that he has not changed, still stupid. Three and ten, self-loathing, and stupid.

Luc used to represent his self-loathing. Now he sees Alyssa.

She was warm whenever he held her to his chest, like the sun washing over the cityscape. She was a blaze as fiery as her hair. Now she’s snuffed out like the candles in his chambers, but this time far away from home.

Aemond grips the barrier of the balcony as he falls. The stone scratches his skin as he clings to it like a cliff’s edge, yet he sinks down and down. A heave escapes him, squeezed out of him as the imagery of it all floods back, every angle pouring in as he convinces himself there was something he could have done. Before the alleyway, before Chataya’s. Surely, there was a step he missed. He had to have, so he retraced it all while shivering, like winter was here.

The door creaked open, making Aemond’s head spring up like a deer hearing a twig’s snap. He plugged his grief, picking himself up in the shroud of darkness and rubbing his face.

“Aemond!” Floris’ silhouette is barely in view, but he still recognizes it as she pushes her bangs from her forehead. Her rapid breaths grow louder with each step toward him before she’s fully in the moonlight. She’s in her nightgown. The black one from her mother that matches her hair, both now in crumpled waves. “Where have you been? Daeron has been in a state demanding to see you.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

A hand remains in her hair, the other on her hip. “He won’t stop crying. A nightmare, maybe? I put him to bed hours ago, and the handmaidens said he woke up screaming.”

“I’ll go to him.”

“Wait.” A palm meets his chest, square in the center. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond stares into the dark of their chambers just above her head before falling to her blue eyes. It was wiser not to speak.

The tips of her fingers are cold as they brush under his eye. Her short nails barely scrape his unmarred cheek. The wetness shines under the moon as she turns her palm to him.

He pulled out his usual excuse, putting a hand over his patch. “Eye pain.”

“Eye pain?”

“Yes.”

“Your upsets usually force you to rest, not tears.” She observes the residue before wiping it on her gown. “I haven’t seen it this bad since Baelon’s last name day.”

“Well, it happened. It comes in waves. Or sometimes a moment’s fit.” Another way to cover himself in the future. He’s discovered grief rises in him at inconvenient times. Gods love to torture. “I can’t control when they occur, Floris.”

“I never said you could. I just—”

“I need to see Daeron.”

The children sleep in the west wing of the Keep now. After what happened to Jaehaerys, Aemond insisted their rooms be away from the royal quarters. He made sure there was a guard at their doors day and night. Jaehaera included. Tonight, however, there were two guards outside Daeron’s door, appearing dazed and confused. Yet they still had the sense to bow to their prince.

Aemond opened the door to find five handmaidens completely helpless. But like the guards outside, Aemond was also confused when finding his son not screaming. His body only bounces in place like he had the hiccups. His head was down and he gripped his little golden blanket.

“He’s tired out his throat, my prince,” one handmaiden says. Her voice shakes.

Daeron looks up when hearing the title. His little eyes are puffy from crying so hard, and Aemond’s heart, merely hanging by chords, can still twist in on itself as he watches his boy’s lip quiver.

“Leave us, please,” Aemond says.

“Forgive us, my prince. We tried our best.”

Daeron rubs an eye with the heel of his hand. “Papa, my… throat hurts.” His voice sounds like he swallowed gravel from the training yard.

“I’m sure, sweetling. Hold on,” Aemond turns his head to the group. “My son is thirsty. Please, one of you fetch him some water. Add some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.”

Their curtsies blend with their departure. The door shuts behind him.

The candle on Daeron’s bedside table revealed the redness across his face, hot and sticky with tears. Aemond walks to the foot of the bed. He’s careful not to let his weight go too suddenly, recalling the height difference this time between this bed and Baelon’s. He’s not hesitant though with stretching out his arms. “Come here,” he says.

Daeron springs from his covers, leaving behind the small golden blanket as he crawls into Aemond’s lap. He hugs him at the neck while Aemond holds him at the waist. It’s a long hug, something they both need. He smells like outside, earthy yet sweet. He lets himself feel the boy’s fragile ribs steadying themselves. His father was here now. There was no need to worry. So they took in air as they needed it—with ease. When he pulls back, Aemond grabs the spare handkerchiefs left behind. Daeron still sniffled, but refused to blow his nose. Aemond pinches it instead.

“What’s upsetting you so much?”

“Am I to be Lord of Storm’s End?”

“What?”

Snot dribbles on the handkerchief. “I had a dream.”

Aemond cocks his head. “Tell me about it.”

“I had a dream that… that we went to Storm’s End to see Uncle Royce. But I was alone. And-and—”

“It’s alright.” Aemond rubs his son’s back. “It’s alright.”

“You wouldn’t let me fly Morning. I couldn’t get back home.”

Aemond gave pause as he listened to Daeron. The boy’s lip quivers again as Aemond’s thoughts swirl, shushing his son as he remembers Helaena. Aemond clears his throat. He smiled down at his son. “I know what this is,” he says with an exhale. “Come with me.” He holds him close as he stands up, walking across the rooms to settle at his window, the other side of King’s Landing before them. Aemond used Daeron’s fleshy arm to point. “What’s that building there?”

“S-Sept?”

“That’s right. The Grand Sept. Your Aunt Helaena is there. You never got the chance to meet her.” He petted Daeron’s head, white fluffy hairs that swept to the front and covered his forehead. He looks back up at Visenya’s Hill. The sept’s cylindrical corners and golden domes draw eyes to the center of the city. One of them held three bejeweled urns with their ashes inside, and Aemond dares not sniffle. “She would have dreams like yours, except she would often be awake. They would overwhelm her all the same. We didn’t understand them.”

“What happened?” He doesn’t look up at Aemond when he asks, only straight ahead at the sept. Meanwhile, Aemond blocks the memories; gore and blood still trailed the back of his mind if he ventured far enough. His leg bounces as he exhales slowly through his mouth, sounding like a haunting wind. Daeron didn’t notice. Aemond couldn’t gather an answer. What could he say? His sister went insane. She killed herself. He found her on Maegor’s spikes. She blamed herself for something that was his fault, and he never got to apologize.

“She lost her sons in the last war. Your cousin Jaehaera’s brothers.”

“Were they soldiers?”

“No, no.” He’s perfectly between Jaehaerys and Maelor in age. The ages they remain for the rest of time. He skips that. “But she loved them so much, losing them was too much to bear for her.” He rests his chin on Daeron’s head, just catching the tear streaking down his cheek before it dripped onto his son’s scalp. Observing the sept again, he longed to be ignorant of such despair. He shook Alyssa from his mind (as best as he could) to come back. “That’s how I feel about you.”

Daeron relaxed a little, his back touching Aemond’s chest. “But what about—” he coughs. “Uncle Royce.”

Aemond ignored the name. “These dreams can be very vivid. About things we already know. Your uncle named you heir, so you will be Lord of Storm’s End one day, yes. But you will go when you are ready.” He kissed Daeron’s head, inhaling his scent as he tried sniffling subtly. “We will ensure your brother receives proper training in royal proceedings as king. Your mother and I will ensure you’re prepared as a lord.”

Daeron doesn’t speak. He picks at the leather of Aemond’s jerkin.

Aemond, in return, hugs him tight with both arms. He gets close to his ear. “You’re not leaving me for a long, long time. Is that what you needed?”

He finally nods. His little white sideburns tickle his nose.

“Good. Because it’s the truth.” He picks him up again. “Now, time for bed.” His sniffling boy buried his head into his neck as he cuddled close, his fingers wrapped around the back. It was painful to do so, he could admit, but he still pried him off. His fingers slipped off him like broken stitches as he made him settle back in bed. He was reluctant, but gave him the golden one, avoiding the black stag sewn in the corner. He kissed the boy one more time before walking to the door.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“Uncle Royce. Where is he?”

“I assume at home.”

“But in my dream, I didn’t see him there. I said I was alone.”

Aemond blinks rapidly. “Perhaps… you didn’t venture far enough to find him.”

He rubs the satin edge of the Baratheon blanket.

“He loves you very much, Daeron. He wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“I know. I just don’t feel like he’s there.”

Aemond said nothing, only watched his son. His purple eyes, swollen and exhausted, darted up at Aemond briefly. They eventually went back down as he pulled his bigger blankets over his lap. Aemond could feel there was something else there, more his son wanted to say. And Aemond, for all the love he bears for his children, didn’t want to hear it tonight. So, he slowly turns on his heels.

“Papa?”

He suppressed his curse. “Yes?”

“Was… Aunt Helaena… were all her dreams true?”

Aemond swallowed thickly as he saw his wife do hours before he left for Flea Bottom. The truth is painful to keep down as he hears Helaena’s voice speaking of rats, then Jaehaerys’ head rolling on the floor just hours later. Still, Aemond looks his son in his beautiful purple eyes as he sternly says, “No. Now go to bed.”

Daeron doesn’t move for a moment, but eventually lays down. Neither of them say goodnight.

Finally, Aemond exits and heads back to his room. Keeping his head up, he pushes down his anguish with each step. He’s not out yet.

Floris barely waited for the door to close before she pounced. “Where have you been?” She is now the starkest thing in the room, all the candles alight again and casting a deep orange across their chambers and she is as dark as tonight’s sky. Only her cream skin contrasted with her hair and attire.

“I told you,” Aemond said. “At a meeting with the City Watch.”

“Her arms crossed over her small belly. “For two hours?”

“Yes.”

“When have you had a City Watch meeting last two hours?”

“Just now.”

“Aemond.”

“Floris, please.” He walks past her, cornering himself on the damn balcony. He lacks the courage to even glance at the city, choosing the brush below instead.

“What did this meeting consist of?” Her voice gets closer.

“My business with the City Watch.”

“Our baby boy wailed for his father.” Aemond can hear the way she bares her teeth. “And wherever this City Watch meeting occurred in the Keep, you were nowhere to be found.”

“It was a meeting in the city.” He spat out the first retort in his mind. “A dire meeting.”

“What could be so dire that you could not tend to your own son?”

“Someone killed a baby.”

The brewing storm halted with a catch in her breath. Her suspicion, though, is still strong around her. Aemond could smell it like rain in the air. He didn’t speak further. Rather, he found the nearest chair and fell into it. The barrier’s small columns blocked the city, similar to a cell as he thought of the woman he loved near the Old Gate. He cannot tell which one is the prisoner, as he pressed his temple with two fingers.

Floris crouched in her gown. Her gaze was heavy as Aemond did everything to keep from letting unnecessary information slip from him. “We took care of the killer. That’s what matters.”

Floris’ pale hand meets the crook of his arm. A thumb doesn’t brush back and forth like it did when his mother succumbed to her fever. The other arm does not wrap him in closer like it did when his nightmares of war jolted him and woke them both. Her thick brows didn’t slant in sympathy. They were straight and stern. “Whose baby was it?”

“What?”

“Whose baby was it?”

Aemond rips his arm away, the leather of his sleeve squeaking sharply from her grip. “What relevance is that?”

“Because you’re a kinslayer.” It rolls off her tongue so naturally.

“I’ve told you not to—”

“It’s what you’re known for, Aemond. I don’t understand how one baby would concern you.”

Aemond slams a fist on the arm of the iron chair as he stands, turning his back to his wife before facing her again. “You know I lost my nephews in the Dance.”

“After killing another.”

“Don’t!” His fingers curl into a fist. It’s when his father crosses his mind that he throws the force against his hip and lets out a shaky exhale. “Floris.”

“With your brother’s bastards rotting in the alleyways, I just don’t understand the difference.” She picks herself  up, pushing with her knees  and holding her belly. Aemond doesn’t help her.

“Because she wasn’t a bastard.” He spits out the words. Another lie, but he doesn’t care.

“Then whose baby was it?”

The chamber doors groan slowly. Aemond doesn’t move from his wife, but refuses to answer. Even as he sees her anger boil her skin and streak her cheeks, he keeps his mouth shut and watches the doors.

“Forgive me, my prince. Princess. I do not mean to disturb.”

“Cole.”

Even in a tunic and linen breeches, he stands like he wears his Kingsguard armor: feet apart, hands collected at his front. No blood in sight, and his hair is disheveled as if someone tore him from bed.

“Leave us,” Floris snaps over her shoulder.

“Cole, what news?” 

He delays in reply, clearing his throat. “Once again, we require your presence, my prince.”

“With what?” Aemond slips around Floris before she can stop him.

“With, uh, burial arrangements.”

Aemond stood still, frozen.

“If the baby has a family, they can decide for themselves,” Floris says. “I don’t understand why such matters require my husband.”

“The family is quite… distraught, princess. As a mother, I’m sure you can understand the idea of such pain.”

Floris’ eyes falter slightly to the floor before glaring back at Criston

“The maesters have wrapped the body and prepared her for her final journey.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond says.

Floris snatches Aemond at the arm. “No!” Her heels skid on the stone floor.

“Do you wish to see the child’s body yourself?” Aemond snaps back at her. “For proof she’s real and your husband has a heart?”

He expected Floris to let him go, in every sense of the phrase. But her small fists only coiled tighter around his forearm. Everything hard about her expression fractured before him. The blue in her eyes glisten brilliantly as she shakes. “Please, Aemond.”

“It won’t take long, princess. I assure you. Your husband will be back soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Aemond sighs. But he looks his wife in the face as he pulls his arm from her hold a second time. He walks to Criston.

“Please.”

It falls on deaf ears.

Neither speak a word as they make their way through the Keep, nor create any sense of urgency with their footsteps. The only ones who look them in the face are a number of Gold Cloaks, either nodding or appearing extra sullen.

They don’t exit through the front doors. No disguises with them now. Instead, the pair navigate through Maegor’s tunnels to find their escape, opening one (of many) secret doors. The scale of Aegon’s High Hill meets them, the white waves of the Blackwater and a bobbing rowboat just below.

“How did you do it? Is Alyssa—”

“Not now.”

Criston jumps down first, landing on a small area of flat rock. He scales down the small mountain with ease, and Aemond follows with enough distance to not disturb each other’s footing. They hug the jagged walls and Aemond keeps his eye focused down on his own feet, his impaired sight working against him more than ever, with only moonlight just barely revealing shadows here and there. Criston even turned around to help him with some of the hill’s slimmer edges, but he refused, wanting to retain his focus. Over time (and with an absurd amount of patience), they meet at the bottom. They let the steep decline guide them to the small beach, meeting the rowboat.

“We have paid some Gold Cloaks to act as alibis in case your wife wants to inquire. They have already spread the word to others.”

The pools of Floris’ Baratheon blue eyes stick with him. She barely faltered upon word of her father’s fall in battle, nor a tear shed at his funeral. She maintained a grace fit for an unmoving force like her. Yet it was Aemond who pushed her tonight. He pushed her to tears. “And the maesters?” He inquires while clearing his throat. “What you said back there, that was true?”

Criston stretches his arms out to steady the boat. “Watch your step,” he tells him. But before Aemond can even take a step, he’s holding out his hand. Aemond looks down at it.

“I can get in fine on my own, Cole.”

“Just…” He gestures again and keeps it out until Aemond reluctantly takes it, one palm meeting the other. Criston guides him in and continues holding tight as the wood creaks under his boots. He doesn’t let go until Aemond sits down, the boat wobbling. Then Criston steps in on the other side, the Blackwater just missing his ankles, rocking the boat all the same. He grips the edges as he steadies it before reaching down.

Even the late night couldn’t hide the bundle of white waxy cloth, the small bloodless being that he held himself just hours ago. He can still feel the phantom wriggling in his arms from her twin’s screams. Now she is here, still. Still and cold as Criston handed her over. But even as the wind blows, Aemond hovers over her to shield her from the chill. He whispers to her as he does.

“I asked Maester Orwyle to wrap her, so we have another alibi should we need it. With her… injury…”

Aemond traces over her eye. Where her eye would be.

“There was no reason to suspect she was anything but a peasant child.”

“And Royce?”

“The less you know, the better.” Criston then pulls their weight with the boat’s oars as Aemond’s fingers brush the outline of his daughter’s face. The noise of moving water surrounds them as he pictures her. He pulled her into the world first, and he never thought bringing his third child into the world would affect him as deeply as his first two. He never imagined she would leave the world the way she came: wet and screaming.

It wasn’t until Criston docked the boat on the other side of the bay that he thought about asking where he—they—were being taken. He still stood unsteadily when stepping out, eyeing the breathing mountain amongst the young trees: his Vhagar. White birds that were perched on her spine flew when she picked up her head. She doesn’t yawn as she normally does when she wakes up, leaving Aemond to wonder, again, just what they’re doing here.

She peers from her high vantage point, neck fully stretched out as her acid green eyes peer at them both, watching them trudge through the brush of her dwelling. She sniffed the air harshly, sounding like a long hiss if Aemond wasn’t looking. Criston continues pushing the vegetation aside (as he had clearly done before, given the faint imprints of feet in the lush grass). It’s not until they make a circle around her that he sees the pyre; a shadow of dry black timber. Thick logs made the foundation as smaller sticks crossed each other to make the bed.

“She was a Targaryen,” Criston says. “She deserves a proper sendoff.”

Aemond clings to the cloth, securing her against his chest as if he is concealing her under his cloak all over again. He stares at the stick bed, and Vhagar lying behind it. Her chest rumbles, something like a hum that causes the earth to tremor under them. Her neck cranes down for a closer look, and Aemond can see the slashes in her pupils as he feels the creaking of her ancient joints when she tries standing.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond tries adding some force behind his High Valyrian.

She doesn’t listen. One foot forward, and the ground quakes. Roots and leaves shiver. The length of yellow teeth come into view as she takes another sharp breath.

“Lykirī!”

Still nothing. Her snout is inches from his forehead as her sniffs are smaller and more rapid. Her pupils drop to his chest, then back to him as she nudges him. Aemond has to step back to replant himself, but doesn’t order her to be still. His hold on Alyssa remains firm, closer to his chest than her mouth. She closes her lips, and the vibrancy of her eyes disappears when they do the same. Aemond’s forehead meets her snout, and Vhagar is silent as Aemond keeps his sobs down. He clenches his teeth hard and his jaw already aches from the tension.

Eventually, Vhagar steps back, leaving Aemond to walk to the pyre. He was not sure how long it took him to get there. Neither Criston nor Vhagar spoke. The strain from his temples to his eye, and now his jaw, made every step feel glacial. But eventually he did. He couldn’t imagine the sticks being more comfortable than that cot, but he didn’t pick her back up. He swallowed the snot and bile, meeting in the middle of his throat as he stepped back. Criston stood next to him. Vhagar looked at him.

“Dracarys.” He orders it as pathetically as he did before.

Again, she doesn’t follow him. She opens her mouth with no dragonfire. Her massive head twitches to one side, looking at him as she did the first time he ordered her to fly at Driftmark. But just as Aemond can feel the ache in her bones, she can feel the chains in his chest.

Neither of them wants to do this.

Aemond takes a breath, swallowing something like courage. “Dohaerās, Vhagar! Dracarys!”

Her head drew back with another hiss and her pupils thin out before her eyes close. Her neck curls back and she stretches her jaw. It’s always slow. Even the green color that lights up her mouth. He would be convinced that the pyre lit at the same speed, but Aemond fell into the grass; his knees giving in like the wood did under the intense heat.

Criston is still there as Aemond sobs freely, the sounds of it drowned out by the cracks of sticks and logs. He holds Aemond tightly as he buries his face into Criston’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” he tells him. “She’s ascending to the heavens where she belongs. No one can hurt her anymore.”

Aemond blocks his nose in the cloth of Criston’s shirt, sucking in air through his mouth so he doesn’t smell any of it. He remembers how Helaena wailed when she held Jaehaerys, his body limp and the blood soaking into her dress. The woman he loves screamed the same way. The cry of emptiness, a gaping wound inside. Aemond doesn’t have the lungs to scream like that. He just thinks of Helaena on the spikes. “I have to go to her,” he finally says. He pulls away, and Criston’s silhouette is nothing but a bleary shadow. “I have to before—”

“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”

“It doesn’t mean she won’t need me. We still have a child to take care of.”

“She has a child to take care of. You have three. Two of them are here. Another will be in the coming months, and your wife does not need the extra stress of questioning your whereabouts.”

Criston now sandwiches Aemond’s face between his hands. He doesn’t scream at him, but the force of the bones in his hands is hard against his skull.

“Don’t make me build a pyre for your fifth child, Aemond.”

His voice catches in his throat. Neither mother of his children wishes to see him now. Helaena once felt the same, but Aemond’s mistakes called him and Aegon to war, leaving her to grieve on her own. He turns to the pyre, a green haze that occasionally spits at the sky. The smoke burns his nose, making his eye clench shut against the sting. In that darkness, he remembers his mother and the knife to Rhaenyra’s eye. She understood sacrifice. And it was now his turn.

Criston stands up. His outline is still blurry and black, but Aemond can just see his hand outstretched for him. “Your family needs you.”

Aemond remembered his role. And he took Criston’s hand.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn @immyowndefender @teal-anchor @dixie-elocin

[cyeco13]

Aemond spending time with his beloved betrothed, Floris 🌸✨️

📌 Here's my kofi link if you wanted to commission a fanart:

THANK YOU 🤗💗

[aemondtargaryensource]

AEMOND TARGARYEN and FLORIS BARATHEON HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022-)

[florisbaratheons]

The Wrath of the Queen (1/?)

"You would become the wretchedest of women."

"Then let it be," said Alicent Hightower.

--

Alicent knows duty, she learned it standing at her father’s knee before she even had a full understanding of what it meant. So every choice after was made for her. She'd marry the king, she'd have his sons, she'd support his chosen heir. She'd suffer the cost for the good of the realm.

But on a dark and stormy night on the shores of Driftmark, when her son's eye is stolen from him and his attackers face no consequences, Alicent finally makes her own choice.

Fuck duty. She wants revenge. And the Blacks are going to pay.

A Rewrite of the Dance of Dragons.

AO3 Chapter One

Taglist @gwenllian-in-the-abbey @branwendaughterofllyr @mairoon

@peters-lab-partner @emilykaldwen @dcookechild @survivinglifesstruggles @ragnyra @alicentcole @userhelaena @ladystarksneedle @starrysepts @asoiastarks @tell-them-the-north-remembers @alihightowers @fairysluna @pookiebearsnookumsalicent @ai-megurine

If anyone else wants to be added, please let me know.

[asoiafpalestine]

Our 115th art piece is....

Aemond and Floris Baratheon, by @spacephobos here on tumblr! For laenyracentbby on twitter, who donated to Grandma Ruwaida, who is battling breast cancer in Gaza.

If you’d like a prompt of your own drawn out by an artist on our team, you can find more information in our pinned post.

[wintywriter]

toxic «the White Lotus» au but with Targaryens on the board:

• Mysaria leads this resort hunting for Targaryen’s money just to get everything she wanted + Otto Hightower so the inheritance war is pointless now;

• Aegon wants to help Aemond to lose his virginity just to realise everything is already lost (after all, they are fucking, fighting, fucking 24/7);

• Daemon and Alicent try to kill each other just to accidentally murder Viserys (they’re married your honor);

• Helaena wants to stay on the resort just to realise she wants to stay with Baela;

• Rhaenyra desperately attempts to get Daemon just to reunite with Criston (she is a spoiled cunt; he is her bodyguard; every time they meet = they fuck);

• Jace decides to go to the West just to end up in the North as a young manager with a pretty cool sister of his bestie;

• Luke wants to have peaceful weekends just to become a young dad (he has no choice; Borros will die but protect Floris’s honor);

• Daeron is just happy to be here with Rhaena and vice versa;

• after all, Targaryens are here to lose everything except maybe some love :)

[humanpurposes]

I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 3

Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.

Warnings: 18+, smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort

A/n: I watched episode 2 and went... yeah he needs an emotional support wife <3

I don’t flinch at the sound of steel. I stand steadfast on the outlook over the yard, my hair loose about my shoulders, my gown one of Baratheon black and gold. The clouds over King’s Landing this morning are heavy and ominous. I could almost imagine I am back at Storm’s End, watching the knights spar in the courtyard before the drum tower.

Aemond is a graceful fighter, but brutal and precise. He has no taste for tourneys, he does not fight for performance. He parries and deflects the blows from Ser Arryk’s sword with ease, then once he finds an opening he makes short work of disarming his opponent, forcing him to his knees and placing the blade against his throat. 

The closeness between Aemond and I ebbs and flows. As of late we are making good progress; I’ve been watching his morning sparring sessions for the last few weeks. Afterwards we’ll retire to his chambers and take luncheon together before we part ways until the evening. Last night we dined with the Queen, and having returned me to my chambers, he kissed me. 

He does not smile when he looks up at me from the yard. His expression is gentle and not quite passive. He says I am a good wife. He says he is content to have me by his side, and yet he leaves me to an empty bed each night. I keep waiting for the moment he’ll decide we are ready to fulfil our vows. In the meantime I despair that I am no different from any girl at the Red Keep who dreams of a handsome husband and a perfect marriage which is not yet in reach. At least Helaena has her children to keep her occupied; I might as well be unmarried. 

Aemond and Ser Arryk take their positions again.

Aemond lurches forward to strike first. His opponent meets him with swift, succinct blocks, but Aemond is eager to match him in speed. There’s a stiffness in his shoulders as he moves, but he must keep his head in the right position, he must not let his blindspot leave him vulnerable to an attack.

I catch glimpses of his face as he moves, his lips pressed together, his single eye dark and determined.

A nervous feeling flutters in my belly.

A small crowd has gathered to watch them, nobles, other knights, servants, looking upon my husband with both admiration and fear– I feel a sense of pride in the awe Aemond inspires. 

Suddenly he falters.

Ser Arryk takes the opportunity to disarm him, but Aemond is not one to concede easily. He draws the knife on his belt, ducking to avoid Ser Arryk’s blows, until he’s close enough to aim the knife at the knight’s throat. 

Ser Arryk anticipates this and drops his sword, fighting with his hands to keep some distance between Aemond’s knife and his skin. The crowd is anxious now. The slashes of Aemond’s knife are too close. I dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from reacting too obviously.

Ser Arryk grabs Aemond’s right wrist with his left hand, and throws a fist towards the left side of his face– his blind side. 

I feel the impact as if I’ve been struck in the stomach.

Aemond freezes, dropping his knife. He covers his face with his hands. There is no blood that I can see but my heart races. 

I’m halfway down the steps before I realise what I’m doing. 

Ser Arryk is horrified with himself, trying to offer some help to the Prince, only for Aemond to push him away. Servants gather, unsure of what to do, hovering around him like he is a wounded beast. 

I push people out of my way so I can reach him. I place a hand over his, where he cradles his eyepatch. His breathing is quick and heavy, his hand is shaking under my palm.

I whisper, “I’m here.”

He tugs at my sleeve, a bruising grip sinking through the fabric and into my skin, around my very bones. He leans into me, his forehead pressing against the top of my head. “I’m fine,” he grits through his teeth.

“My Lady,” Ser Arryk begins, “I’m sorry– I must have acted out of impulse– I–”

“Fetch a maester,” I order.

“Not necessary,” Aemond says.

Ser Arryk hesitates.

“Fetch a maester!”

“No!” Aemond says, suddenly straightening his back and releasing me from his hold. My heart sinks at the sight of his scar, flared, red, angry. He keeps his fists clenched by his sides, denying himself the pain. “That will be all, Ser Arryk, I shall retire to my chambers.”

He marches off and I trail helplessly behind.

Full chapter on AO3

[misguidedasgardian]

The Dragon's Mistress (15.2)

15.2. The End of the Beginning

MASTERLIST

Summary: Some things unravel, other issues find this ties

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, death, mentions of blood, death of a monarch, might miss some warnings, you know what this it

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount:  2.8k

Notes: muahahaha this is it people! I didn’t even realize I was so close to the end until this! a final chapter! then a good epilogue. THIS WAS IT

“It was a dangerous move”, he warned

“But it worked”, said Corlys, “he is letting her go”

“You poisoned her”, he continued

“She was never in real danger, a little nose bleeding, a day of unconsciousness”, he said, “If I wanted to truly hurt her, I would have used some common poison, and not take months to find the proper one, to give her a good scare”, he murmured, looking into the flames, “I would never hurt her, or the baby within her”

“When are we leaving?”, he asked then

“First thing tomorrow”, he continued, “and you are coming with us”, Steffon smiled, relieved, “but then, I will return, after I make sure she is safely within out allies and friends, this isn’t over, this had only just begun”, Steffon smiled, knowingly, he then teached with his hands and the guard received the items he gave him, “you know what to do with these before we leave”, Seteffon nodded,  “oh, one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“Do we still have supporters in Harrenhal?”, he asked with a hint of a smile, almost knowing the answer

“The strongest of our allies reside in the Riverlands, they still hold big grudges against Aemond for burning their fields during the war”

“Perfect”, he said simply, “I´m afraid I’ll need them to burn one last thing before we are done”

Aemond was a complicated man

From the very beginning he tried to keep up to his word, since he was a young boy the thing that mattered to him the most was his honor, especially after witnessing his brother lose it so quickly in wine and whores.

He trained with the sword, he assisted to all his Valyrian lessons until he was fluent in the language of his ancient house, he took classes and read all volumes of history and philosophy in the greatest Library of the realm, the one in the Red Keep

He was a devoted son, and brother, and Prince, never arguing with his grandfather or mother, always doing what he was told

He rode the biggest dragon in the world

He was the perfect prince, a gentleman

Until, she was denied of him

When Queen Alicent had refused Princess Rhaenyra’s proposal of betrothed Helaena with Jacaerys, he thought…

Now is my turn

To take my sweet niece to wife, and put a solution to all the problems of the realm and within the family

He was the one to do it

He wanted to, his niece was the perfect Princess, well versed in history and poetry, rider of a fearsome dragon, and a beauty without comparison.

She was his retribution for everything, the price he had won with his efforts

But he was denied of that too, his brothers took his eye, humiliated him, and Rhaenyra took her from him

He could never forgive her

She, the perfect princess, was going to do what was told, and she was betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark 

No, you belonged with him

You were the only thing he has ever wanted, and the Kingdoms knew it when he burned the Riverlands and entire armies, only to get to you.

And he finally had you

But like they say…

... But some little birds cannot be caged, their souls begin to wither and suddenly they no longer want to sing ...

He wanted you, but you did not wanted him

He thought he could live with it, he had enough love for the both of you, he had enough desire, enough power, to keep you by his side.

But he didn’t

If you didn’t love him back, it didn’t matter what he did, he believed, you were his and that was enough

But it doesn’t work that way.

Now he had a lump in his throat as he saw the servants and guards put all your things in coffers

He had yielded

He was sending you away

He still didn’t understand why you didn’t love him back, as you tried to hide your happiness, but couldn’t

You were happy to leave him

This is what you wanted all along

So he found himself desperate again

He grabbed you in his arms, kissed all over your face, and whispered in your ear

“I will not stop until I find who did this to you”, he whispered, “when I do, I will bring you back to me”, you took too long to answer, concocting a lie in your pretty head, he could see the wheels turning 

“I hope so, my King”, you said faintly

“And when you return, there is only going to be you, no other, no other Queen”, he said, to see your reactions

“I will not wish for you to harm anyone”, you warned, oh, you, always so concerned

For when Floris expelled the babe from her belly… her days were numbered 

He was losing you, he didn’t like that.

He never realized he never had you in the first place

He would never admit it, but a tiny tear escaped his eye when he saw your ship sail away. Thankfully no one saw him, as a loud roar was heard front he skies and suddenly the entire harbor was overcome by a huge shadow, Aemond looked up to see your ever faithful dragon flying above your ship, following his rider home.

His face twisted in rage because he had commanded your dragon to be chained to the pit, clearly, the people he had sent had no luck containing the beast, apparently. 

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor

A Dragon is not a slave 

Aemond turned around to see Floris, cradling her belly

He was weak a couple of times, and that was the result, he thought bitterly. They lends him a hand, he played it, he played it wrong

But he did not have any time to worry, to cry for your loss, to punch the walls in anger for what others in the dark where still making him do.

A week after your departure…

Aegon died

He exhaled his last breath in a heave of puss and blood, and that is how the man that what going to be known as “Aegon the Usurper” was gone from this earth, taken by the stranger. 

He detested his brother, that was no secret, but there was a day he didn’t.

Some years ago, Aegon was only his brother, his oldest brother, a bit drunk, and a whore, but he was only his brother, and that is when Aemond loved him, he had helped him usurp his sister, because he loved him, and his sister and his family, and he thought that was the way to keep everyone safe

Perhaps he had been wrong

But Aemond didn’t have the strength, nor the luxury of thinking about that, he didn’t dare.

It was what it was 

His mother, Alicent, cried silently as the silent sister worked on Aegon’s body, covered his sick and twisted body with gauze and so many oils and ointments to try and cover the stench, finally, they placed the crown of the conqueror over his covered body.

He had not been the King in a while now, so the ceremony was short, but dignified thanks to his mother, but as like Viserys before him, nobody really payed attention to the burial, but rather, his own coronation

He had been acting like prince regent for a while now, but no matter, the ceremony was great, held in the throne room, instead of the Dragon Pit like Aegon’s had been, other lords of all over the Kingdoms had not been invited, they were only notified of the death of Aegon, and the coronation of Aemond.

Aegon had died, now, he was King, and you were not by his side when Criston placed the crown over his head, he looked around the room, looking for you, expecting to see you there smiling shyly, but he couldn’t find you anywhere, he could finally crown you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in all your right

But you were not there 

The day

The most important day of his life, and you were nowhere to be found. 

He wanted to cry

He wanted to throw himself into his bed and weep

Only Floris was there, standing by the last step of the Throne, looking up at him triumphantly 

He wanted to throw up

But he couldn’t show it, for everybody in that room, for all those lickspitters and flatterers, they had won, it was him. Aemond, the right choice, the right brother

The one that studied history and philosophy, the one that trained with the sword, the one that rode the largest dragon in the world

The one who had wed two Queens, that now were with his children in her bellies,  the one that worn the conqueror’s crown and held the conqueror’s sword

All the symbols of…

For fucks sake

His grandfather would have been proud

That is what everyone in that room saw, the perfect King

That is who everyone greeted at the banquet afterwards, to the King, the Baratheon Queen, and his mother, the loved Dowager Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower

The court seemed at peace 

But it seemed like the peace before the storm

As the feast was raging on, Corlys Velaryon entered the room with the remains of his family, nephews and far off cousins, but impressive nonetheless

He barely nodded to the new anointed monarch, and sat close beside him, at the side of Floris

“You must be pleased to know, your grace, that your Queen is safe, at the palace we discussed”, he said triumphantly, knowingly souring the mood of everyone at the table, “she send her bests, and wishes to be present in this joyous occasion, sadly that cannot be”

“I agree Lord Corlys, soon, it shall all be well again, and I can have my Queen back at my side”, Corlys smiled, and raised his cup at the King, which he answered back, at the scowl of the Queen, and the frown of Floris

Aemond smiled, more confidently now, he was King now

Now, he was settled in power, with two heirs on the way, he was settling on the charge, he had vanquished one of his most powerful enemies while on power, he had won the war

His chest filled with the sense of victory

One step closer 

One more, just one more

One enemy left to be slain, and it was going to be fine

All of it, was going to be worth it

He was King now

A real King, anointed by the faith, cherished by the people, supported by half of the great families and at least three of the seven Kingdoms

It could be better.

But it didn’t

Days went by and nothing did.

One day, a very respected member of his kingsguard entered his chambers, he looked nervous

“Your grace, following your instructions, I found something in Queen Floris’ chambers”, he said shakily, he knew how much was at stake, specially if he was wrong

Aemond only looked at him severely 

Corlys was sewing scorn, resentment and mistrust in court, and he was not going to stop, until they ripped each other apart

“Queen Floris poisoned our beloved Queen, but she couldn’t do it alone, the question is, why your master of whispers didn’t know it?”, he asked the King as he had called upon him for advice on what to do, “she couldn’t have done it alone, my king”

Reader’s POV

You didn't want to believe it, when Aemond told you he was going to send you away, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you believed you were dreaming.

But it was real

Maids helped you put your things inside coffers, and a sudden happiness filled you 

it was true, you were going away

Dragonstone? probably, is the only place that made sense for you

You were begging

But any place could be better than this

You would even go to Casterly fucking rock, instead of this place

Ironic, it should be your home, where your mother was born, where you were born

But it became a prison

You didn't want to believe you were finally going to be free of it until you were walking towards the docks, escorted by the entire Kingsguard and Aemond walking by your side

He was angry

He had promised you that you were going to be the only Queen, soon, and you couldn’t wish for anything but the opposite

This worked

You placed your hand in your belly, he had what he wanted, you could only wish you were expecting a girl and Floris a boy, perhaps then he would leave you alone.

 Aemond followed you hand, placing them over yours, as you stopped by when you reached Corlys’ ship at the end of the harbor

“I will send for you soon”, he promised, as he kissed you, you leaned into him, making him believe you would come back

You wouldn’t 

ONce you were weak enough to fight this, but not anymore

You were not going to come back, not against your own will.

You grabbed the small hand of your little brother as you helped him aboard the ship

Corlys held you both once the boat left the harbor.

It was funny

From all your Velaryon siblings, you were the one that liked the sea the most, even if your real father was Daemon Targaryen

You found it calming, reassuring, soothing, but it was also something to be weary of, careful, scared of.

The endless sea

“Thank you grandfather”, you whispered, he kissed the top of your head

“I’m here now sweet girl”, he whispered back, “they will pay for everything they have done to us”

There was a time you cursed him, you believed he had betrayed you and your mother, but he didn’t, he needed to get inside, attack from within, he was the Sea Snake, one of the most dangerous men on the seven Kingdoms

And he was on your side 

“The sea agrees with you”, he whispered, as with the soft sway of the ship you felt more confident as when you were on mainland 

“I got it from you”, you said cheekily, and he smiled warmly

“You are my legacy, history remembers names, not blood”, you only smiled gently 

And those words made sense only when you arrived at Dragonstone, where there was two very familiar silvery heads waiting for you

“Baela? Rhaena?”, you called, your half sisters smiling back at you. You ran towards them, as much as you could since you were heavily pregnant

they held you tightly against them

Once the war had started to collect the lives of your grandmother and then your brothers, Corlys had taken them to Driftmark, where they were going to be safe, you never saw them again.

Your stepsisters, your baby brother, your grandfather.

You looked up at the high towers of the huge castle, just in time when your dragon arrived and flied above it and between.

Beautiful

Safe

Your baby kicked inside you and you smiled warmly, he knew he was home too

 “You don’t have to worry, little one”, Corlys whispered, “you are home now, I’ll protect you”

But as you approached the castle, you realized it was more… lively, that the last time you saw it, more people, ships on the harbor, banners from houses of the Crownlands, no, it couldn’t be, you recognized from afar the house sigil of the Celtigars 

“What is going on?”, you asked

“The Lords are greeting you back home, where you belong, you, your brother, and the princeling”, now Corlys had the winning hand, having all the royal bloodlines under his protection.

When you entered the hall, you were met with all the lords of the Crownlands, everyone bowed when they saw you, smiling brightly at you, you smiled shyly back, as they guided you towards the Dragonstone throne.

Encouraged by Corlys, you took a seat in the throne, something you didn’t even see your mother do.

You gazed at all the lords, who didn’t even look in your direction when you lived inside these walls, when you were the last child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and they could see how they disappointed you in your face, in the frown in your face.

Many of them started talking, amongst each other, and some towards you, many apologies, a lot of everything 

“We failed you once, our sweet Queen”, one man stood above all the others, “ we will not fail you again”, said Lord Celtigar, taking a knee to you, and all the other Lords followed

“To the Queen, and Prince Viserys!”, chanted one, and everyone echoed it

“For our late Queen Rhaenyra!”, chanted another and once again, your mother’s name was being called in the halls of Dragonstone

WELL, BRING ITTTT hahaha

It is going to be a long epilogue...

[mejcinta]

Aegon, Aemond and Their Relationship With Power/Arranged Marriage.

Neither Aegon nor Aemond are opposed to incest because it's the culture they've been birthed into. So, I don't think their reaction to Helaena in episode 7 should be viewed as some kind of evidence of their attitude towards incest, but rather about their their relationship with power, which is what arranged marriages in their feudal society are truly all about.

Aegon's approach to an (arranged) marriage is more romantic in the sense of he thinks having things in common is a requirement. He says about Helaena, his betrothed, "We have nothing in common."

This doesn't necessarily mean he loathes his sister. Yes, he does call her an 'idiot' but I think this also goes to show how young and silly he is, just as Helaena is also young in that moment and still occupied with her girlhood hobby of playing with insects.

Aegon's admission speaks to his self awareness because he notices they can't get along and he wants to spare himself and her as well from any misery. After all their parents are in a loveless arranged marriage and if there is one thing Aegon hungers and yearns for truly, it is love, even though it is quite literally the death of duty.

Additionally, he has spent much of his life being starved of love and feeling rejected by his mom and dad for not meeting their expectations well enough. Needless to say the fear that he is unloved by his family seeps down to his siblings even though they might think otherwise of him. Aegon is repelled by duty, for all he knows about it is pain, not love.

Aegon is not as eager to wield power through marriage. After all he has only suffered being seen merely as a chess piece in the game of thrones, and not as a boy that needs his family to be there for him. Therefore, he is understandably resigned and more disinterested in power because it is being forced on him.

Meanwhile, Aemond has a more duty oriented approach to marriage. He is willing to do whatever it takes to grow powerful and be taken seriously in society, especially seeing as he grew up without the ultimate Targaryen symbol of power: a dragon.

Aemond states about Helaena to Aegon, "She is your future Queen," and proceeds to make a comment about strengthening their Valyrian blood etc. In episode 10 he was also well on his way to cement a marriage alliance with House Baratheon so as to add to their army for the upcoming war. He understands what needs to be done in order to obtain the power he so desires for self validation.

Aemond cares little for love for now because, once again, his family has little of it and he doesn't fully grasp it. And what he mistakes for love is attention which is being heaped on Aegon for being the Golden boy i.e the firstborn son.

Aemond feels invisible to his family because of not being 'Targaryen enough'. That is why he spends much of the season in pursuit of power, claims Vhagar, mocks the Strong boys' bastardy and vents about being a mere second son while Aegon, being the first, doesn't need to work half as hard as Aemond does to be noticed or respected.

In a way, both boys are dead to love because of the neglect prevalent in their family while Helaena is in her own world plagued with dreams of her family's destruction. Aegon numbs his pain and pressures by indulging in vanity while Aemond scrapes away at collecting figurative medal after medal so that he can prove his worth, a perfectionist of sorts.

The boys' reaction to the idea of marriage is more about showing us their state of mind and relationship wih power more than it is about loving or hating Helaena.

[crescenthoax]

Hi I’m that anon who sent you the GOT quote and I just wanna say to this beautiful bit 😭 “As for Floris and Aemond I know [my] Aemond is not everyone’s favourite but I don’t know… I feel like the lore about them I think every night before falling asleep is too deep and complex to even begin with. I adore them, even though he’s terrible and she deserves so much better, and yes, I see everyone pointing out that he’s not exactly mourning her but I think he is in his own way -and I will write about it. Just because.”

GIRLLL YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH /I/ LOVED THEM. They weren’t the main couple but I feel like all your side pairings are so much full of intrigue and drip with life. But yeaaahh um I loved them, I loved the whole “they prefer to look at each other than touch each other” thing and how less physical They were, I loved their opposite personalities, and I loved how they kept their relationship to themselves and away from prying eyes of not just the other characters like Annika but to the reader as well (unfortunately I’m a nosy bitch who wanted to see) They also reminded sooo much of Joanna and Tywin “Only Lady Joanna truly knows the man beneath the armor, and all his smiles belong to her and her alone.” LIKE.. ugh my heart.

I definitely overromanticized them to a problematic degree in my head 😭 I’m an optimist but I was so excited for the Christmas au bc I thought they’d get the happy ending they’d been robbed of by the Caswells in the main verse, I thought starting with them being broken up meant that their arc would be them getting back together so imagine my surprise and heartbreak when I read part 2 😭😭😭😭😭

I definitely feel more than a little silly for misinterpreting their relationship so much and hearing that they don’t actually “belong” together in that way, Idk. I don’t hate your Aemond but I do want to shake him and scream that he needs to get his act together and BECOME BETTER AND BECOME DESERVING of her because in my head, she was all he wanted. Idk. It’s stupid but I wanted them to be happy together so badly. I still really ship them even after alla dat which makes me a little bit of a 🤡 but I LOVE pain if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have made it this far into Aegon and Annika’s story.

I think so many of the readers associated the found family with all three of the couples just being siblings together so it’s easy to forget how much Aemond loves our girl Annika, if he’s disloyal to his wife which I think is sad and a little unfair but a valid reading. I’m also not ready to let go of this familial dynamic, it was definitely my favorite. I just hope for the best for all of the Targtowers and their remaining wives especially Aegon and Annika, but I know whatever you come up with, I’ll be happy with even if I’m sobbing on the floor.

Jeez that Tywin and Joanna’s comparison was truly something.

And, to be fair, I don’t think there’s such a thing as 'misinterpreting them.' I believe you can interpret their relationship however you want and also perceive the characters alone as you please. That's what's fun and magical about reading. As a writer, I would never say, 'no, actually…' when someone tells me their views on a character or a pairing—unless you're saying something absolutely out of context, like when someone said Annika enjoyed being with Jacaerys or that she didn’t love Floris. I want people to feel a genuine connection to the story and perhaps find themselves in the characters, to relate to them. I also love to see how what I’ve written is interpreted because it helps me a lot to see if people understand where I’m pointing. So, if you think they were in love (they were, I just think that if it were up to him he would’ve never taken a wife at all), then it’s okay. Aemond is a complicated dude driven by duty and greed, but yes, he loved her, and he’s in pain right now though he doesn’t let it show. Modern Aemond and Floris, however… I don't know I feel like modern Aemond would be so insufferable about women. Love him though.

On a side note, of course he loves and deeply cares about Annika too. I think I already talked about this, but he cares about her as an individual and also as an extension of his brother’s honour. That's why he’s mad and upset about the entire baby situation, perhaps even more than Aegon. I think Aegon feels guilty, and he’s sick with worry thinking about everything Aemond is pointing out. But I believe we can all agree that we are all going to miss this family so much. I even have to confess that I wrote that Christmas au because I was too depressed about the main fic and I missed Floris and the six of them and I wanted Helaena to be happy lol.

[vxsenyas-blade]

little angsty au fic idea but if aemond’s ruling in place of aegon, and possibly forever, he’ll need heirs. he orders for the lady rhaena to be brought from the vale to king’s landing so they can wed

[leonanette]

Chapter 18 of 'Crescent Isle' is now up!

Crescent Isle - Chapter 18 - leonanette - House of the Dragon (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter Title: Lucerys Alone

Chapter Summary: Lucerys struggles to come to terms with everything.

[cyeco13]

Aemond and Floris 🌧

For @Hotd2025Bingo ✨️Prompt:Rain

[flowerandblood]

The case of Floris & Aemond & Lady Royce in the Price of Pride

(spoilers from chapter six & seven below)

The extreme opinions on who is to blame for this situation are interesting to me, but as an author I have a completely different approach to it than everyone else. I don't think that what happened is the fault of any of these three — although most of you here always think it's either the man's fault or the woman's. In this case, it's Aegon's fault, or more precisely, the Kingdom he represents.

Let's start from the beginning: why are Floris and Aemond betrothed? Because Aegon, as King, needs an alliance with Storm's End. Aemond chooses her over the other daughters of Borros because he thinks she's the prettiest of them all, but does that mean he thinks she's beautiful or that he has feelings for her? No.

Aemond is simply doing his duty, and Floris is happy to be the prince's wife. She is not naive enough to believe that he loves her, but she hopes that this will change someday.

The prince's betrothal is a matter of the Realm and is announced publicly — this means that Lady Royce knows about it from the beginning, even talking to Lysa, she mocks that "it was perhaps her smile that made him choose her". She is not surprised by her arrival and does not think much of her, because she thinks that she is Aemond's concern, not hers.

Floris is Aemond's betrothed and learns that he spent several nights alone in the company of a young, unmarried woman — that would hurt anyone, so she goes to the Red Keep to make sure that her position is not threatened. And what does she see? Her betrothed does not even want to look at her — he does not want to talk to her, he runs away from her touch, he treats her like air. How would you feel in her place? Is it really funny?

Is Lady Royce to blame? She partly feels that way, and she has every right to — she knew Aemond was betrothed, and yet she let him do things that could hurt Floris — which is why she decides to stay away from him and not let him touch her anymore — so that they won’t hurt her anymore.

Did Floris have the right to attack Lady Royce, almost killing her? Did Aemond have the right to be physically aggressive towards Floris and humiliate her afterwards? No — they both showed their cruelty and while Aemond's words may give a sense of victory, he is really doing it to scare Floris — I don't think he would be able to physically hurt her if they were married — he just wanted to plant in her mind the idea so that she would run away from him and leave him alone.

Why didn't Aemond break off their betrothal earlier? And what would be his reason for doing so I ask? His feelings? After all, the King himself ordered him to gain Storm's End's support for their cause, he couldn't back down. It was only what Floris did — attacking a dragonrider that their Kingdom needed, and one from the Targaryen family in addition — that changed everything, because it gave him a reason to convince his brother that the Baratheons couldn't be trusted, and that she and her sisters would be like vipers in the keep. After the death of his son, Aegon is more sensitive to such things.