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vividxpages · 1 month

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౨ৎ˚⟡.⭒˚no parents, big house - Jace Velaryon x f!Reader⭒˚⟡˚౨ৎ

words: 4400

summary: with his family out of the house for one night, Jacaerys and you decide to make the most of it.

warnings: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, wine drinking, they’re both just really in love with each other, smut (making out, dry humping)

a/n: This is my first time writing smut for Jacaerys, I hope you like it, let’s get through this big hiatus and be good to each other! <3

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When you rang the doorbell of the Targaryen-Strong household, you could already hear screeching coming from behind the door.

Smiling to yourself, you shifted on your feet, the staple of pizza cartons in your hand warm on your palm. A bag hung over your shoulder and excited shivers ran through you at the prospect of spending the entire night over at Jace’s place.

Your boyfriend’s mother and her husband had decided to go out tonight, a rather rare occurrence with multiple boys under their roof and Jace and you had decided to make the most of it. Privacy often was an unknown word here and to both Jace’s and your embarrassment, the two had been caught making out on his bed (in various states of undressing) by his siblings enough times already.

Tonight though, there had been a compromise.

Jace was allowed to spend the night with you, but only if Lucerys took the others to see a movie tonight and the brothers were in charge of making dinner for everyone beforehand. Jacaerys had agreed in a heartbeat and butterflies had taken wing in your stomach when he texted you the plan later, accompanied by three red hearts.

Although Jace was a decent cook – you could confirm this, talking from experience – the pizza had been your idea. And if Jace’s brothers did not love you enough already, the door opened and you and the stacks of pizza were greeted with shouting and frantic hugs before these whirlwinds of dark curly hair disappeared down the hallway in excited chatter and you stood face to face with your boyfriend.

“Hi.” You smiled brightly as he quickly took your important delivery from you.

“Hi.” He breathed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as always when you two shared a moment. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray joggers and a white shirt, his hair adorably put back in a bun that had you staring at him, utterly in love and anticipating your stay in his home tonight.

Behind his back, a sudden scream could be heard and a pillow flew through the air. You grimaced at the chaos seemingly going on in the living room and your boyfriend’s nostrils flared in annoyance as he threw a stern look over his shoulder.

“I swear they were behaving before; I think we had too many sugar cookies earlier.” He sighed, stepping aside to let you in, his hands subconsciously finding your waist on its own. You leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, inhaling the delicious smell of his cologne.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your mom.” You joked. You two quickly closed the door, not wanting the neighbors to suspect someone was getting murdered in here.

He chuckled. “Lucky me then.” Into the vague direction of the living room down the hall, he ordered: “Guys, be quiet or we’re going to eat all this pizza by ourselves and I tell mom you’ve terrorized me and Luke all evening.”

This threat brought silence to the house and you snorted.

“Always works.” He told you before grabbing your hand and leading you to the massive living room, big panorama windows offering a look into the garden of the property. Luke was waving at you from the kitchen, his smile still a little sour since he had to take care of their smaller brothers for tonight, as he prepared plates for everyone.

The twins, now relatively calm and obedient, sat side by side on the couch, smiling brightly at you. You dropped your bag by the staircase, kneeling in front of them and ruffling their light hair. “Hey, you two. Jace told me you’re watching a movie tonight?”

Jacaerys adoringly smiled at you as you talked to his baby brothers, his heart melting as always when he could see how well you were getting along with his family. You had been over enough times to earn yourself a permanent spot in the hearts of all his family members and it fulfilled him deeply to know you were his and you belonged with them just as you belonged with him.

Soon, his family was going to go on vacation and last week, his mother had told him she would be delighted to have you there with them as well. He could’ve cried with happiness and the two of you certainly had celebrated, in your own way.

But tonight, he couldn’t wait to play house with you, only for a little while until you were going to move in with each other one day.

“Thank you for the pizza.” Luke mumbled through his bites and you waved it off, leaning into Jace’s side as the group all settled down on the big couch in the middle of the room. You tugged your legs underneath you and sighed happily as you bit into your first piece, one of Jace’s hands that wasn’t occupied with his own slice resting on your naked thigh.

It had been hot outside tonight and you were still wearing shorts. While you listened to the twins’ stories and chatted with Luke, Jace began to slowly circle his thumb on your knee, the gesture as delicate as the brush of a feather. But it was enough to make you falter, all your nerves seeming to travel down to the small patch of skin being touched by him.

It was enough to distract you and yet, it wasn’t nearly enough.

But this sweet torture of his and inevitably, you giving in to it, had to wait for now.

“Want a slice of mine?” You asked him sweetly, offering him a piece of your pizza covered with cherry tomatoes, arugula and hearty cheese. He nodded, leaning forward and letting himself be fed by you. When you wiped a little blob of sauce from the corner of his lips, Luke had enough.

“Can’t you use your own hands, Jace?” He teased, a knowing grin on his mischievous face.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave to see the movie soon?” Jace shot back, unbothered and unashamed as you laughed and licked your finger clean, causing Joffrey to watch the two of you with a disgusted face. Once, when he still had been a little smaller, he had compared the two of you to his own parents because of the way you always gravitated towards each other, always touching when you could, but you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t regretting this comparison now.

Luke looked to the clock on the wall, startling. “Oh shit, we’re going to be late.”

“Oh shit.” The twins echoed and the two older brothers shared a look.

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you taught them this.” Jace declared nonchalantly and Luke groaned, taking his plate to the kitchen and telling everyone wanting to see Paw Patrol tonight to hurry up.

You chuckled, kissing Jace’s bony shoulder and standing up as well, taking his plate from him.

“No, no, I’m not letting you wash our dishes, you’re my guest tonight.” He protested and took them to the sink himself. You once again shivered at his words, the prospect of having the whole house to yourselves for a few hours more than enough to spark your wildest fantasies of him…

There was some hustling and bustling going on in the hallway as Jace and you worked together by the sink - a compromise because you always wanted to help - before Joffrey shouted a quick goodbye to you.

“Do you guys want ice cream?” Luke asked his brothers on their way out and Jace groaned, quickly shouting after them: “Don’t give them more sugar!” The door fell shut behind them and soon, you heard the engine of Jace’s car start.

“Don’t worry too much about them.” You told him softly, seeing the way Jace bit on his bottom lip, a common sign that he was overthinking. “They’ll be fine.”

“I know…” He took one of the plates you held up and dunked them into the full sink. “I’m very happy you’re here tonight. I was thinking about it all day.”

“Me too.” You whispered, suddenly short of breath.

It wasn’t the first time you were sleeping over, but with a house full of people, indulging intimacy with your boyfriend was…difficult. Dinners were spent by the big table with his family and once you retreated into his room upstairs – sometimes after roasting marshmallows over the fire pit outside or playing board games with his competitive parents – the two of you were mostly too tired to stay up any longer. Jace shared a bathroom with Luke, so taking advantage of the luxurious big shower was too risky, and the walls were not as thick as you would’ve guessed for such a big mansion.

So, most of these nights ended cuddled together in his bed, sated and happy and tired, sleepily kissing each other in the darkness until you either fell asleep together or Jace would sneak his warm hands underneath his sleeping shirt on you, ghosting over your body until you’d eventually let out a needy whimper he had to cut off with a kiss or his hand. How often had you come around his skilled fingers, silencing your little moans and gasps in the crook of his neck or breathing them into his mouth? And how often had he softly bitten your neck or shoulder to stifle his moans while you sweetly jerked him to completion, giggling to yourself when he had to stagger out of bed shortly afterwards to find a tissue for your sticky hand?

“Is there something you’d like to do?” Jace asked you, ever so eager to make sure you were the most comfortable you could be. You thought of the sun chairs outside on the terrace and how lovely it was the stargaze together or the pool, its crystal-clear waters flickering seducingly. You thought of the shower, your gaze flickering down to Jace’s subtle but strong muscles, subconsciously licking your lips.

But you also had not seen him all week and you desperately wanted to relish the quietness of his home with him before everyone else came back later tonight.

You shrugged, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I just like to be with you. Maybe we can finish up here and watch a movie and cuddle?”

Jace wanted to melt at your innocent suggestion. “Sounds perfect to me. I’ll dry the plates; you grab us two glasses? Dad brought a fancy wine yesterday.”

You found the bottle in question quickly, your eyes widening at the fancy label around it. “I’m not sure if this is meant for us, Jacey. This is expensive-expensive.”

Jacaerys threw the towel over his shoulder, lacing your fingers together and pulling you to him. You had listened to the radio as you worked and an old school love song was echoing through the kitchen now, your boyfriend goofily swaying to the beat and wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll buy a new one first thing tomorrow. We can act like we’re adults tonight.”

“Jace, we are adults.” You laughed as he twirled you, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing with the stray curls in his nape. You sloppily swayed to the beat, lost in each other’s eyes and smiles and you knew you were not ever going to love anyone else the way you loved Jacaerys. There wasn’t space for anyone else, because you were sure your whole heart only consisted of him.

Eventually, you filled – and emptied - those wine glasses and danced through the kitchen, your laughter echoing through the house, making it your home for the night. You exchanged some giddy kisses and his lips tasted like heavy wine and when you pulled back, his dark eyes laid hazily on you.

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth once more, the wine in your system making it hard to think.

After a moment, he swallowed hard and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

Neither of you had any idea how you managed to stick to the movie, but a little later, you found yourself on the couch, one leg thrown over Jace’s, your head safely nestled in the crook of his neck. Jace had dimmed down the lights of the living room and prepared a bowl of snacks for the two of you while you had changed into something more comfortable.

Now, it had gotten dark outside and the black void of the garden rested to your left while Jace rested his chin on your head, absently picking up some popcorn from time to time as you watched the movie. Earlier, you almost could’ve not hidden the mischievous grin on your face as you quickly snuck under the blankets on the couch, Jace’s back still turned to you. You had picked one of his soft shirts to wear and underneath it, which he had not noticed yet, you were only wearing panties. The lacy, soft pink ones he loved oh so very much.

Jace had returned to caress you mindlessly, his fingers wandering up and down your naked leg and the steady motion made your eyelids drop from time to time, a small yawn escaping you as you nuzzled your face in his neck.

Jace squirmed, not entirely unpleasant. “Hey…’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You breathed back, one of your hands finding a good spot on his toned stomach, the fabric separating your palm from his warm skin almost too much to bear. Like this, it went on for a while, both of you focusing less and less on the movie on the big flatscreen and more and more on the little touches you gifted to each other. Wanting, unspoken questions, disguised by innocent affections.

A while ago, he had turned a little, one of his clothed legs having found the perfect spot between your thighs, still held back by the fluffy blanket draped over you. But you were slowly having enough of useless fabrics between the two of you and Jace’s lean leg between you wasn’t exactly helping to ease the growing pull in your stomach.

You shuffled even closer and Jace tore his dark eyes away from the screen to look deeply into yours, his plush lips slightly agape as he watched you grind your hips forward, your hand drifting beneath his shirt to ghost over his skin. You felt the muscles in his stomach tense underneath your touch, his breath ghosting over your lips and when he finally dared to capture your mouth with his, you let out a relieved sigh.

Forgotten was the movie that had not interested you from the start as Jace blindly grabbed the bowl of snacks and moved it out the way. His hand drifted over your thigh as he delicately cupped your cheek, making your blood tingle underneath his soft touch, and finally snuck underneath the blanket.

You grinned against his lips, tilting your head to give him more access as a shaky sigh escaped him, his fingers trying to feel where the seam of your shorts began. Instead, his fingertips brushed over silk and lace and his mind short-circuited.

He pulled back, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he looked at you through them. Both of you were breathing hard, with flushed cheeks and arousal coursing through your veins. He looked at you like you were a miracle, not believing how he managed to end up with such a lovely creature. You pushed your thighs together as he slowly licked his lip, feeling already that your precious panties were going to be soaked very soon. And to think that he had not even gotten started…

“Jace…” You whispered, almost a whine as his thumb brushed over the lacy material, his pupils blown wide as he leaned forward and kissed your neck. You threw your head back, whimpering as his teeth dragged over a sensitive spot. “Please.”

He peeled away the blanket, letting it fall to the floor and looked down, your shirt messily pushed upward to reveal your tummy and the soft pink panties. You swore you could see the dragon in him, his family symbol just lingering underneath the surface. His knee was still resting between your thighs, not yet giving you what you craved so much. Your mouth watered as his darkened gaze landed on you again, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip. He whispered, his hoarse voice sending goosebumps through you; “You’re the most beautiful girl…god, you’re driving me insane with how much I want you.”

You exhaled shakily. “You got me.” You nodded, trusting him with your whole being. You both had known how this night would’ve ended and yet, you could never prepare yourself for the intensity of your feelings for Jace. Your hand freed his hair from the scrunchie tied to it and you brushed through his soft curls.

“I love you.” Jace murmured and attached his lips to your neck once more, finally having some mercy on you as he pushed his knee forward and making you cry out. The rough fabric of his joggers pressed against your thin, wet panties, the delicious pressure making you weak in the knees. You threw your head back, your arms naturally resting around his neck as you pushed your chests together, sinking into the pillows behind you in bliss.

Jacaerys paced the rhythm, slowly grinding against you with his thigh, feeling your legs quiver as little lightning shot through your core with each of his motions. Cuddling with him for so long had heightened all your senses, making it hard to concentrate as you pushed your hips forward, riding his thigh as he peppered kisses against your skin, drawing aside the shirt from your shoulder so he could leave a loving mark there, too.

With a particular enthusiastic buck forward, you made him hiss, your little whines and whimpers having made him rock-hard and straining against his own pants. You placed two fingers underneath his chin, drawing him up into a desperate and messy kiss and his hands on your waist tightened their hold.

“C’mere, baby.” He murmured into your mouth, his thigh still rubbing against your most sensitive part. “In my lap, up you go.”

You let yourself be hoisted up until your knees were placed on either side of his slim hips and you gasped into his mouth, your core now deliciously pressed against his length. He placed his shaking hand into your hair and your hands found purchase on his chest, helping him to take it off and throw it somewhere else.

You giggled, head spinning with pleasure as you were juggled around in his lap by him wriggling out of these damn joggers off, your laugh suddenly cut off when he bucked his hips up into yours, the outline of his dick fitting perfectly against you.

“Can I take this off?” Jace asked you breathless, playing with the hem of your shirt and you pecked his lips encouragingly.

“Yes, please.” You could feel his heart beating fast underneath your palm. “I might go insane if you don’t.” You bit your lip and Jace groaned, quickly nodding as he lifted your shirt over your heart and tugging you close against him so you wouldn’t be cold at first.

“Anything you want.” He mumbled, eyes glazed over with love as he looked at you, his fingers ghosting along the underside of your chest, his thumb soothingly touching one of your nipples. “God, you’re incredible. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You smiled and then, you did not talk anymore, driven by the growing need for each other now. You started to grind your hips forward again, hissing at how amazing the friction felt for now, the little gasp Jacaerys let out only encouraging you to continue like this.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to brush your hair back, caress your chest or guide your hips with them. You felt the mixture of the wine from earlier and the warmth in your core get to your head, the room around you spinning as you found another fantastic angle which made his clothed dick rub over your wet clit just right.

You let out a long-drawn moan, doubling your effort and leaning close to Jace so he could hear every little sound he lured from deep within your body. And in return, he made sure you heard him, his gasps soon turning into the sweet whines you loved so much. There was a wet patch on his briefs as you looked down and you had been a mess anyway and none of it mattered the slightest if he only continued to move you around in his lap like he did now.

“’m close…” You told him, brows scrunched together and eyes closed in pleasure as you rubbed yourself against him. Jace was watching your every movement, fascinated how someone as delicate and sweet as you could really belong to him, peppering kisses on your exposed chest and tugging you forward hard, back and forth on his dick, again and again, a thousand nerves in both your bodies alight.

“So perfect for me, so sweet…” He mumbled and your core clenched around nothing at his sugary affirmations. He kissed your cheek, your neck, over and over again, feeling as your grasp on control continued to slip. “Wanna see you come, my love, fuck- I love you so much…”

“Love you.” You whimpered, mouth a little o-shape, sweat on your forehead and Jace could not help himself, he needed to feel you.

His hand disappeared in your panties, one of his fingers finding your achingly hot clit as the other gathered up your wetness. You keened loudly, doubling over in sweet and utter defeat, immediately caught by his arms and held against his chest. You could’ve sobbed with pleasure as he rubbed one, two, three circles on your clit and then you exploded into a million stars, shattering into stardust right in his safe embrace.

Your orgasm tore through you like a crashing wave and Jace held you through it, throwing his head back against the couch’s backrest, groaning deeply from his chest as he felt himself spill into his underwear, the friction and your sweet sounds too much for his system. You still rode him and his soaked fingers, chasing the high he had gifted you, his fingers continuing to guide you through it all, only slowing their efforts when he felt you twitch with little aftershocks and overstimulation.

Your body slumped against his, breathing heavy and hot as you let out a satisfied smile.

He kissed your temple, hugging you close and closing his eyes as your heart beats slowly calmed down again until they were almost beating as one. You let yourself be held by him, tiredly drawing little hearts on his chest and smiling happily as he kissed your cheek.

“Feeling good?” He asked quietly and brushed back your sweaty hair.

You lifted your head, nodding timidly as you kissed his freckled nose. “Amazing. And you?”

“Perfect.” He smiled blissfully and when you shifted to get more comfortable, both of you grimaced at the sticky feeling. “We made quite a mess, huh?”

Your eyes widened and you hid your face in his neck. “Oh god, do you think anyone will notice?” Suddenly you could not believe you both had let this get so far, in the living room of his family as well-

“Nah, everyone won’t be home for another couple of hours and we can air out the room through the terrace doors.” His eyes sparkled as they looked you over, tucked against him, perfect in every way. “We’ll clean up here and go up to my room to clean you up, okay? Does that sound good?”

“And we’ll cuddle?” You wanted to know, a safe and sacred part of your soul only coming to show itself when Jacaerys was taking care of you like this. To know he knew what you needed and to simply let yourself be led by him made your mind blissfully empty yet full of love and adoration for your boyfriend.

“Yes, love, of course we’ll cuddle.” He pecked your cheek and helped you stand up. (But then again, this whole thing had started out by simply cuddling too, didn’t it?) When you lifted your arms obediently, he slid his shirt back on you and collected his own from the floor, arranging the pillows neatly and folding the blanket like nothing inappropriate had ever happened here.

You laughed as you tried to walk on wobbly legs, only to be scooped up by Jace before you could even reach the staircase. “I think we ruined your favorite underwear.” You whispered into his ear and he blushed madly.

“You can wear one of my boxer shorts if you want.” He offered and you nodded quickly, always a little thief when it came to his clothing. He carried you upstairs, mindful so your legs wouldn’t bump into anything, and gently set you down on his bed once you reached it, kissing your forehead one more time before he rummaged through his closet and found you something to sleep in.

It was ridiculous how happy you felt, how unbelievably in love you were with Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong. You watched him with soft eyes, nearly melting when he cleaned you up with a warm washcloth first, then helped you dress and slid into his twin size bed with you in his arms.

You kissed his smooth jaw, getting comfortable in the familiar safety surrounding you. His fingers were stroking up and down your spine in an easy rhythm.

“I think I’m going to give your brothers gift cards for the cinema for their birthdays.” You mumbled sleepily against him and he laughed, the sound like bells in your ears.

With it, you drifted off into a wonderful, dreamless sleep and he followed you soon after…

When Rhaenyra came back later that night, finding her sons passed out in their beds, she couldn’t help but peek into her oldest’s room, finding the two of you sleeping peacefully and entwined with each other.

In the morning over breakfast, she kept it to herself that the TV had still been running and you two had left the terrace door open…

𓆩♡𓆪

taglist: @earth4angels @princessvelaryon

If you would like to be tagged for Part 2, let me know with a comment <3

#jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd

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peterparkersnose · 7 months

Text

A Tale of Two Eyes

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: trauma, mentions of suicide, mentions of Helaemond, toxic marriage, reader has established relationship with Aemond and they have children, reader is pregnant, marriage of convenience, political marriage, arguing, undertones of an abusive relationship, selfish Aemond, hate on the Blacks (love Rhaenyra tho, just for the story themes)

a/n woah I wrote?!?! Happy birthday Ewan ily mwah

summary Aemond's son and heir just met the same fate as he did all those years ago with Lucerys.

masterlist

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read time: 10 mins 11 seconds

That afternoon was a blur. Everything for Y/N has moved so quickly, yet so slowly at the same time. She had asked Ser Criston to fetch her sons, ten-year-old Daeron and six-year-old Aerion, for dinner. They had been playing out in the courtyard for a few hours. She had her three-year-old daughter, Visenya, sat and prepared to feast for the evening meal. Visenya wiggled in her seat, anxious for her brothers to join her to feast. The morning was rough on Y/N, as she was currently seven months pregnant with her fourth child with Aemond. Visenya had been a terror as well, as she has now taken to escaping her caretakers and seeking out Y/N specifically. Y/N was speaking to Visenya, trying to distract her from her hungry stomach and practicing her vowels when her mother-in-law, Alicent, came rushing into the dining room. The Dowager Queen looked frantic as she quickly came to Y/N’s side.

“It’s Daeron,” she spoke, out of breath. “Daeron?” Y/N asked. Alicent motioned for her to follow her, as she did not want to alarm Visenya. Y/N immediately left Visenya with their nanny and followed her mother-in-law quickly down the castle halls.

“What has happened?” Y/N asked, holding her stomach with one hand and walking as fast as she possibly could. “Aegon and Viserys…” Alicent paused. The names of Rhaenyra’s last two surviving sons. They have always quarreled with her and Aemond’s sons, and now she truly feared the worst.

“They have taken Daeron’s eye just as Lucerys did to Aemond years ago.”

Y/N abruptly stopped in the hallway, grabbing the wall for guidance.

“Excuse me?” she blinked a few times, angered at her mother-in-law for just dropping this knowledge on her. For the sake of her unborn child, she tried not to let her emotions run rampant.

For her first child, her first son, heir to the Iron Throne, and the beginning of the new Targaryen age has just been permanently maimed or killed.

Aemond never attended dinners anymore. The man Y/N knew when they were first betrothed was long gone after the results of the dance. Aemond could barely deal with the grief of his siblings, niece, and nephews. Y/N had always speculated a secret love affair with her husband and his now-deceased sister, Helaena, but she never approached the subject. He was never the same after Helaena’s suicide. Aemond had been a broken man since, even though he was living out his dreams. He was now the King. The Blacks were defeated, only leaving Rhaenyra’s two legitimate sons with Daemon, as they were too young to understand the effects of what they were born into. Alicent took them in against her better judgment.

So now, he sat in his office alone like he did most nights. The candlelight was dim and his wine glass was almost emptied. He sat hunched over letters, writing them to various Lords around Westeros. Aemond often filled his time with work so he could escape the horrors of his true life. It was pitch black outside and pouring now, as it had been hours since dinner was supposed to have happened. He heard a knock on his office door.

“Enter.”

He didn’t expect his wife. He straightened his posture and took off his reading magnifier from the bridge of his nose. He took in her essence. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Their marriage wasn’t ideal, but she had been essential for the success of the Greens in the dance, as their marriage brought House Targaryen together with one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. Aemond took a deep breath.

“My lady wife–”

His words got caught in his throat when he saw the blood on her hands. “Is the child all right?”

Y/N nodded eagerly to assure him that this wasn’t a complication in her pregnancy. “What has happened? Is someone hurt?” Aemond eagerly asked, standing up from his desk and striding over to her. “I-It’s Daeron…”

“Daeron?” Aemond replied, relief running over him that the issue wasn’t the child. Yet he worried for his heir. Y/N was shaking, Aemond grabbed her hands. “You mustn't freak.” she asked of Aemond. His brows furrowed. “Calm yourself, woman. Explain what happened.”

“Him and Aerion… got in a scuffle with Aegon and Viserys.”

Aemond’s grip tightened on Y/N’s hands. If it weren’t for the grace of her and Alicent, Aemond would have had those two children’s heads on spikes before they were old enough to realize their parents' crimes. “What prompted the fight?” he asked angrily. Y/N shrugged. “That–that is to be determined. I don’t want you to freak–”

“Do not tell me what to do. What is of Daeron?” he raised his voice to his wife. “He–”

Y/N took a deep breath and paused. She didn’t know how to approach this with her husband correctly and not trigger him from his past. Her hand moved to her husband's cheek, her fingers moving over the strap of his eyepatch slowly. “Do you remember?”

Aemond scoffed.

“Of course, I remember. You don’t need to remind me.” his lips pursed as he closed his remaining eye momentarily and sighed. “Why is this relevant?”

Y/N had no clue how to tell her husband this. She was expecting him to have the same reaction she and Queen Alicent were having.

“Our son just met the same fate.”

Aemond pondered for a moment, then turned around and brushed Y/N’s hand off his cheek. He returned to his desk. He felt sick, he had to sit down. Aemond didn’t fully understand the situation yet but feared the worst. He was silent for a great moment, hearing a small sniffle coming from his wife brought him back to reality. “What happened to Daeron? Do you mean to tell me he’s lost his eye? Don’t tell me he’s dead…”

“He isn’t. But Viserys scraped it out like Lucerys did to yours.”

Aemond slammed his fist on the desk, making Y/N jump. Aemond seethed in anger, thoughts running rampant in his head. After a long pause, he spoke. “And did you tell my mother yet?”

“She is with him as we speak.” Y/N replied, anxiously waiting to see where her husband's emotions ran at that moment. “Where is Aerion? Is he harmed?” he asked of his spare, who could likely become his heir at any moment. “Aerion is fine just… traumatized. He tried to go after Viserys but Criston pulled him away when he got to the scene.”

Aemond seethed, then suddenly threw his wine goblet to the wall. It smashed and scared Y/N. “Aemond–”

“Send Daeron to my mother’s chambers. Tell her I’ll be along shortly, I have letters to write.”

He didn’t even look up at his wife as he put his spectacle back on.

“What?” Y/N held her stomach with one hand, the other on her hip. She was confused. “You’re returning to your work?” She didn’t even get another word in before Aemond snapped. “Send Daeron to my mother's room at once!”

She was utterly shocked. How could he? Work? His son needed his father. The only person who could relate and help Daeron through this terrible time in his life… and Aemond chose to work? “Your son needs you!”

Aemond growled. “I’ll tend to him later. He’s going to survive, and I have work to do.”

Y/N was flabbergasted.

“You’re the only one who can help him understand. The boy is ten and just lost his eye! That is your son!”

Y/N knew she was fighting in a losing battle. But she had to plead for her son. He had been requesting his father for some time now. Aemond abruptly stood, walking to his door. He didn’t look at her once. “If you think talking to him will do him any good, I’ll do it. I’ll write my letters and come when I can,” he mumbled. When Y/N realized this was the best she was going to get, she decided to leave. As she was exiting the door, the child kicked in her womb roughly. She groaned and Aemond looked up to her, seeing her clutching her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said coldly. He watched her exit. She wasn’t expecting another word from him.

She could hear him before she saw him. Y/N entered Alicent’s chamber to see her son sobbing, clinging to his grandmother. Alicent brushed his hair softly with her fingers, her stare distant. Y/N could tell that Alicent had seen this story before, and she didn’t like the ending. The look of vengeance plagued the middle-aged woman's face. As Daeron heard someone enter the room, he spoke.

“Father?” Y/N’s heart simply broke then. Daeron was truly in a state of shock, he barely paid attention to anything but the throbbing sensation of the worst pain he had ever felt in his life on his face. “No, sweet boy. Your father…” Y/N caught herself. She couldn’t tell her son that his father refused to see him. No. It would simply break his heart and his spirit more than they already were broken. “I could not find him. The guards will notify him shortly when they find him.” Y/N moved to the bed, and Alicent moved so Y/N could comfort her son Daeron. Alicent gave her an honest nod and stepped into the hallway. Y/N embraced her ten-year-old in her arms, and he rested his head on the fleshy part of her arm. He was still holding a rag over his wound, so Y/N took the rag from his hand and switched it with hers so the boy’s arm wouldn’t grow tired.

“What happened to me, mother?” Daeron spoke softly. He tried to look up at her but failed to do so. Y/N held back tears. “It wasn’t fair, my love. Viserys will pay. I will make sure of it.”

Daeron shook in her arms. “I-I’m scared.” he admitted to her. A sob finally came from the boy again, and he stopped crying when she entered the room. He was trying to stay strong for his mother. He was already showing such promising signs of a good King, even at such a young age. “What will I do without my eye, mother? Do I still have a future, will the girls still like me? They’ll think I’m gross for sure, I just know of it–”

“My son.” Y/N cut off his rambles. “Of course not. We shall not worry about this now. You are a handsome boy, and already a great warrior.”

“But–” Daeron began again. Y/N shushed him. “No. Shh. You must remember your father has the same wound as you. And is he a great warrior?”

Daeron nodded. “And is he married?”

Daeron nodded again. “My sweet son, my heir. Do not worry. You will be the greatest Targaryen that ever lived.” Y/N spoke. She moved closer to her son. “Don’t tell your father or siblings I said that,” Y/N whispered, managing a small smile trying to bring some humor to the boy. He desperately needed it. But it quickly faded, as the child inside of her kicked again.

“Mother?” Daeron asked. Even in his pained state, he cared for his mother. What a good boy she had raised. “Do not worry. The babe is just wild during this time of night.”

Y/N ran a hand over her son's bloodied hair which had now dried. She held him close until he fell asleep. Aemond never came.

During the very early hours of that morning, Y/N had failed to find sleep. She paced her shared chambers with Aemond. He had yet to return. She grew angrier and more frustrated by the minute. And finally, as she was re-lighting the candles that should have been blown out hours ago, she heard the door of her chambers click open and then shut. She turned to her husband, who looked cowardly now, with an angered glare. “Where have you been?”

Aemond shrugged. Y/N scoffed. “Do not play this game with me right now.” Y/N approached him, he smelt of dragon sweat and the salty sea. “Did you just take Vhagar for a ride?”

Aemond sighed. “Yes.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back the angered laugh. “You’re kidding me right now.” Aemond threw his boots from his feet against the wall. “I have my own ways of managing my–”

“Your son has lost an eye. Have you no heart?!” Y/N interrupted him. Aemond seethed silently, pausing. He then threw his jacket on the back of the couch. “I will see him in the morning.” Aemond answered tiredly. Y/N stared at him in shock. “I have no words for you.”

Aemond ignored his wife, moving to the closet. He changed into his nightly gown and his robe. He tried to get into bed, but Y/N was already sitting on the bed when he returned. “No. Not tonight.” she said sternly. Aemond scowled. “And why not?” Aemond asked with a sharp tongue. He was almost at his breaking point with her. Couldn’t she not understand his duties? His trauma from his past? How selfish of her…

“Why not?!” Y/N yelled “Your son has just been maimed for life and you refuse to see him! What kind of father are you?” This statement set Aemond off. All the anger, hurt, and hatred boiled over within him. He tried to keep it in for the sake that he did truly love his wife, but she failed to understand him over the years like this. Aemond took a deep breath. “Don’t you get it? I have been struggling for fucking years! Do you think I want to see my son, bloodied and broken as I once was at his age? No, you daft woman! I wish to be alone. You are incessantly bothering me and I am sick and tired of it!” he lashed out at his wife. Y/N sat in bed, tensed at his words. She didn’t know how to reply. The realization that the reason Aemond didn’t visit their son sank in; he simply did not know how to. “I cannot look at the mirror of my old self in him! For Gods sakes, he already is a copy of me! Now with this…”

Y/N took in his words. She saw him tearing up. “Aemond–” she attempted to speak. He cut her off. “I will have that child sent to the wall along with his blasted brother,” he spoke angrily. “Do not try to talk me out of it either. I am King and I have made my final choice. I have spared their lives when they should join their bastard brother Lucerys in Vhagar’s belly.”

“But your son–” “He will live. You cannot coddle the boy. He must grow strong.”

“How could you say that?” Y/N answered. Aemond shrugged. “My father did the same, and I will follow.”

Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. Viserys was a terrible father to Aemond and his siblings, favoring Rhaenyra. “You know damn well that if Viserys still lived, he would pardon Rhaenyra’s son and blame Daeron somehow–”

“THAT ISN’T THE POINT!” Aemond snapped at her. He knew how terrible Viserys was. He knew how damaged his father had made him. But he was the man he was now because of Viserys, and he would never be the same happy little boy he was before the loss of his eye. And now that the same had just happened to his son, his heir, he couldn’t deal. Y/N watched him in horror as he turned to violence, smashing one of the vases in the room. She held her stomach, fearing her husband in his rage. After Aemond realized what he had done and how he had scared his wife, he stopped. Aemond’s yelling turned into sobs. He collapsed on his bed. Y/N warmly opened her arms to embrace him, despite being terrified of him seconds ago. Aemond clung to her and her baby bump for dear life.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…�� he whimpered, burying his face in the crook of her stomach under her breast. He was shaking. Y/N was too stunned to speak, but she spoke softly. “I know.”

She was furious at her husband. But the effects of the dance had ruined him. This wouldn’t have happened twelve years ago when they wed. They both had to re-learn each other–him with his trauma, her with her dedication to being a mother and a Queen. They struggled too often. But at solemn moments like this, when Aemond calmed down, they just held each other. The truth was, they were just two scared kids in this world. Thrown into the grasp of something neither of them wanted or intended. And that is how they stayed the rest of the night–trembling in each other’s arms, afraid of what the future held for them.

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kitkatscabinet · 2 years

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an eye for an eye, a child for a child

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Summary: Lost to her rage and grief at the loss of her beloved Lucerys Rhaenyra orders the capture of Aemond's pregnant lady wife. Only to find that maybe the two women could come to understand each other more than she thought possible.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: idk characters and their shitty canon behaviour, birth

A/N: Blood and Cheese didn't kill Jahaerys and Rhaenyra was close with Helaena. First Aemond request baby! keep em coming. This turned into a somewhat of a feminist rant lol

Although the circumstances of your occupation on the island weren't pleasant, you could still admit to yourself that Dragonstone held a beauty you readily admired. Your husband had always described the place as incredibly droll and dreary which you could easily see. But truthfully you found it peaceful, beautiful in a way King's Landing could never be. Even if you were confined to your room with Rhaenyra your only point of contact.

Hopelessly alone, terrified of what the blacks had planned for you, you wondered if what you felt was even a fraction of Lucerys's terror when he had been forced to flee from your husband. Tears burned in the corners of your eyes as one of your hands came to rest upon your protruding belly. Lucerys had been a child, and as a soon-to-be mother yourself a large part of you couldn't begrudge Rhaenyra for taking you in an act of revenge.

The creak indicating the opening of the door to your makeshift prison interrupted your thoughts. Turning you were met with the sight of a haggard-looking Rhaenyra. Her hands were empty, causing you to tilt your head in confusion as you watched her cross the space to sit across from you.

Immediately you noticed the darkened bruise decorating her neck, a mark you had often seen left behind on Aegon's victims as they tearfully tried to scurry out of sight. You didn't speak, waiting for Rhaenyra to start, but you knew she had noticed your sympathetic look. Surprisingly, she didn't say anything, just continued to stare at you with a faraway look in her eyes.

"I know my words will offer you no comfort, but I truly am so sorry for your recent losses. I can't even imagine..." you trailed off, wincing as a sharp glare was thrown your way.

"No you cannot" Rhaenyra's voice is filled with all the fury of a mother that has just lost two children.

"I just... I wanted you to know that through all of this, that you had someone on your side" you replied, struggling to find the correct words to truly convey your meaning.

"My side? Your husband killed my son" she yelled, fists balling so tightly you worried she would draw blood.

"He didn't want to" you hoarsely whispered, "he lost control of Vhagar. He is a boy playing at a war he cannot possibly understand. It's a weak defence and doesn't nearly justify anything but... He lost himself to his rage. A rage that we all let fester for years with no consequence. So while my words mean nothing I still wanted you to know that I am sorry, that Aemond is sorry, even if his stupid Targaryen pride will never let him admit it."

"Sorry doesn't bring back my son!" Rhaenyra's chest was shaking with rage that was waylaid into tears. Slowly you raised yourself from your seat, stepping towards the mourning woman to gently bring her into your arms. To your surprise, she didn't fight your actions, instead snaking her arms around to clutch at your back as she finally allowed herself to sob.

"I never wanted any of this" she admitted against your chest, "I had hoped to find a peaceful solution, but now I fear that will be impossible." Her voice was so small, so fragile that it took you a few seconds to reconcile it with the strong woman you had admired for so long.

"We might still be able to," you said, dropping to your knees and taking her hands in your own. "I want Aegon on the throne as much as you do. Aemond doesn't want him either, and I know you and Helaena care for each other. Hells, Aegon himself doesn't want the throne" you rambled a small spark of hope filling you suddenly.

Seeing Rhaenyra begin to pull away from you, you hurried to try and rectify your position. "He tried to run away you know? Aegon. He was going to escape to Essos but Ser Criston found him first on Otto's orders. Please, reach out to Alicent, you loved her once, that must count for something!"

"How?" is all the Queen manages to choke out at your declaration, grief still colouring her features.

"Because I know Alicent still loves you, loves you the same as you loved her in your youth." Though you loved Aemond now, you had not always done so. And as such, you had spent a great amount of time with the Dowager Queen in the early months of your marriage. While all the men in your lives seemed to be blind fools, you were not.

"It was her father that poisoned her against you. A poison that festered due to her bitterness. The men in our lives could never understand how we feel, but you can. You, Alicent, me. We've all been burdened with the task of womanhood, scorned and dismissed on the whims of men."

"Then why? Why has she been so persistent in my torment, in the torment of my sons. I have sued for peace more times than I can count only to be rebuffed at every turn" she scoffed, pulling her hands from yours as she moved to pace around the small room.

"I can't speak wholly for Alicent's reasons" you admitted, taking a deep breath. "But truthfully, I think she was jealous. She never loved your father. Her father has manipulated and trampled on her for her entire life, her children all ignored by their father. She has given her whole to duty, done what was expected of her whilst you trampled all over yours. I cannot excuse all of her actions, but try to see her point of view. Try for the woman that still loves you very much."

Rhaenyra is silent for some time, but you can see your words have had an effect. When she finally does reply it is with a question that takes you by surprise.

"And you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand the question your Grace" you frowned.

"You counted yourself amongst the women scorned at the hands of men."

"I didn't always love my husband, but Aemond demanded my hand" you admit, the truth tasting incredibly sour on your tongue. "Although I love him dearly now, he sometimes makes it very hard to. I suspect you may feel the same." One of the Queen's hands reached up to absentmindedly caress the bruised skin of her neck at your words as she simply hummed in agreement.

A sigh leaves her lips as she turned to face you once more, "Daemon wanted to have Helaena's children killed. In retaliation for Lucerys," you are left reeling at the confession, bile working its way up your throat as you collapsed back into the chair.

"I wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow sweet Helaena to undergo that sort of pain. But Daemon was persistent, so in order to save her I chose you as the target instead."

You are prevented from replying to her admission by the sudden rush of cramps in your lower belly and back, the pain drawing a gasp and catching Rhaenyra's attention. The woman was at your side immediately, eyes widened as she watched your waters break.

"Fuck!" you screamed, hunching over as a new wave of pain assaulted your body.

"Quickly" Rhaenyra called, pulling you up and supporting your weight as she led you from the room and out into the corridor. Your pained groans were quick to catch the attention of the servants and lords alike as Rhaenyra screamed for a maester.

Daemon, who had arrived to investigate the source of all the fuss was quick to stand in your way, "this is what we wanted" he hissed to his wife, glaring at you. Both you and Daemon are then taken aback by Rhaenyra's fierce reply

"No, this is what you wanted! I am the queen, and I'll have no more of your schemes now move!" There was a power in her voice that you could only admire with a gaping mouth before you were forced on the move again.

To your great surprise Rhaenyra refused to leave your side, only slipping out once when you had begged for your husband through tears.

It was nearing the end of the night, the pain had made it impossible to continue your pacing and as you lay sweating in the birthing bed there was only one though on your mind.

"Aemond. Where is Aemond?" you choked out through cries and gritted teeth, squeezing Rhaenyra's hand as another contraction rocked your body.

"He's on his way sweetling" she promised, "Jace will be leading him back very soon." You couldn't find the strength to reply, head falling back limply against the pile of pillows as you tried to tune out the pain. According to the midwife it was still not yet time to push and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out.

So lost in the haze of pain as Rhaenyra dabbed at your forehead you didn't notice as the chamber doors were violently thrown open, your furious husband stalking in. His feet quickly came to a stop as his good eye was met with the horrific sight of your pain.

Where you hadn't noticed the interruption Rhaenyra had, and was quick to yell at her younger brother.

"My lord!" one of the maesters interjected in abject horror, "you must wait outside-" Aemond however, was having none of his nonsense and for a second Rhaenyra feared the man's mouth had just cost him his life. Another pained groan from you was his saving grace though, and in record time Aemond was at your side, taking your hand from his sisters'.

"I'm here love, I'm here" he assured, throwing a quick glare at his sister before turning back to attend to you.

"Aemond?" you opened your exhausted eyes, desperately hoping you weren't hallucinating. A sob of relief leaving you once you realised he was really in front of you.

"My lady, you must start to push" your reunion is cut short by the midwife.

"I can't" you sobbed, shaking your head in denial.

"You must!" she insisted, even as you continued to refuse.

"Please love, you must listen to the midwife" Aemond urged, wiping your hair back from your face as he squeezed your hand. Groaning you attempted to sit up, only to immediately fall back as your muscles refused to cooperate.

"Aemond I can't" you protested once more, tears blurring your vision. It is Rhaenyra that ultimately comes to your side.

"Yes you can sweet girl. You must, your Queen demands it so." Her words managed to get a slight laugh from you as you remove your hand from your husband's to clutch at hers once more. "Aemond, sit behind her and support her weight" she demanded, and to your great shock he moved to comply with a complaint.

The hours blur together as you lay with your back against your husband's sturdy chest, Rhaenyra clutching one of your hands in her own as you screamed in pain. You are sobbing and heaving but with the support of your family, you push through. And eventually, you are rewarded with a shrill cry.

Tears of relief pour from your eyes as you demand to hold your child. You hear the hitch in your husband's breath as both of you lay eyes on your child for the first time.

"A girl" you whisper, voice choking with love. Looking back at your husband you can only watch in adoration as his eye refuses to leave your little girl's face, his arms wrapping around you to stroke at the small tuft of white hair.

A silent consensus seemed to be reached for the inhabitants of the room in that moment. The war could wait, the crown could wait. For now you would simply bask in the wonder of new life.

Taglist (crosses indicate an unavailable tag): @targeryenmoony @thelittleswanao3 @thenovelcarnival @yourlittlehoe @chattylurker @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @weepingwitchofthewest

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader

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sapphiremusings · 1 month

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THE GIFT OF VENGEANCE | aemond targaryen

summary: Aemond replayed this image on a loop, squirming in his seat every time he got to the part where her eyes popped out of her skull.

Two eyes for his one, and the eight years he went without his revenge.

8.5k

cw: female!lucerys velaryon, au-modern setting, explicit sexual content, dubcon, graphic depictions of violence, sadist!aemond, obsessive!aemond, dark!aemond, choking, p in v, oral sex (fem!receiving), blood kink, biting, mentions of childhood trauma, breeding kink, uncle/niece, kinda DD:DE? not that dead though… u might be able to eat…

He hears her first, that soft tittering which haunted his childhood, piercing straight into the marred socket of his left eye, down the monstrous scar she had left him with.

She sits behind him, planked between her brothers, the only daughter of his half-sister, and therefore the most beloved. Maybe Jacaerys had whispered a joke, his lips sticky against the shell of her ear, laughter bubbling up her throat at whatever inane quip he made. A part of him, the one that dominated his childhood, leaving him cowering along the sand and crying fat tears into his mothers skirts, thinks that maybe they’re whispering about him– their stoic, one-eyed uncle, whom they once taunted and teased as children. Her amusement echoes around the corners of his mind, running along every ridge of his spine and settling deep within him, into an endless pool of festering hatred.

It had been years since Aemond had seen his half-sister and her litter of bastards, but now that he has, he’s ready to never see them again. The rift between their families is slowly starting to mend, threads of green and black pulling together to stitch up the hole that was left after Laena’s funeral, and the taking of his eye. His mother, once reverent in her hatred for Rhaenyra, now holds onto her arm with a newfound longing, fingers rubbing circles along the long scar she had given her that same night, when she had demanded an eye for an eye. It was one of his fondest memories– Lucerys crying out in terror as Alicent rushed towards her holding a dagger, her darling face twisted in fear, hiding behind her mothers skirts. Even when his empty socket was throbbing with an intense pain that not even milk of the poppy could cure, he still relished in the sight.

His father had been slowly dying for years before he finally succumbed to his illness, something Aemond had anticipated every time he walked past his room, the sour stench of rot and sickness permeating through the shut doors, along with the constant beeping of medical machinery. The funeral had been just as droll as his last days, with Aegon slumped beside him, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, stinking of the bottle he had downed beforehand. Helaena was busy slouched over, peering down at the iridescent beetle that crawled around her fingers, muttering to herself, ignorant to the snorts Aegon would give and the shushing their mother hissed. And Daeron, the youngest of his siblings, was perched between mother and their grandfather, in which he had spent most of his childhood with, a good boy who listened steadfastly to the sermon. Behind him, the Velaryon siblings sat, from eldest to youngest, hands clasped together as they mourned in a way Aemond hadn’t.

Her presence seared into him, burning down to his bones, etching itself into the very marrow of him. The gods were feeling particularly cruel this day, and he listened to the sound of his niece’s sniffling, soft sobs leaving her lips in the place of the laughter he was once used to. He had wanted nothing more than to turn around, to peer upon her darling face, flushed a splotchy pink as tears streamed down her cheeks, the tip of her nose red and her brown eyes wide and watery, eyelashes clumped with tears. He imagined himself grabbing ahold of the chub of her cheeks, squashed beneath his fingers as he plunges his thumbs into her eye sockets, the white mush mixing with her crimson blood, a beautiful concoction made just for him. The thought dizzied him, and while speeches were given and prayers were sung, Aemond replayed this image on a loop, squirming in his seat every time he got to the part where her eyes popped out of her skull. Two eyes for his one, and the eight years he went without his revenge.

He remembers how those eyes, big and glimmering with a certain mischief, would peer at him with the curiosity of a doe, as if trying to figure out what made him tick. A brush of her fingers against the back of his hand, the warmth of her breath against his jaw, her gangly limbs stumbling over his own. These small tortures she’d inflict on him, only to turn and laugh in the wake of his trauma, when their older brothers would taunt and tease him incessantly. She’d trail after them, giggling at their antics with a small hand held over her mouth, the apples of her cheeks flushed red in mirth. He had hated her for it. Her ignorance hurt more than any push or shove Aegon or Jacaerys could bestow upon him.

“D’you think mum will notice if I leave?” Aegon slurs in his ear, spittle fanning across his jaw as he leans heavily against his shoulder, already in a drunken stupor. “She seems rather occupied, right?”

Aemond has to force himself not to sneer, eye twitching in annoyance as Aegon sways on his unsteady feet. His older brother has long been the family’s drunken embarrassment, but to see him act this way in front of their half-sister and her clan irritates him more than it usually would. Aegon’s beady eyes are glazed over, partly focused on their mother, who stands at Rhaenyra’s side like a leech, mouth twisted into a pitiful smile as she hangs onto every word that leaves the silver-haired bitch’s lips.

Aemond hums. “She’d notice eventually.”

He expects Aegon to stumble off, his clipped tone hinting to an end of the conversation, but instead, he chuckles. “Our little niece has grown into quite the woman, wouldn’t you say?”

The brothers watch as she chats with Daemon, their uncle and her stepfather, his towering figure dwarfing her smaller one. As Targaryen’s, hailed from Old Valyria and of an ancient bloodline, rumored to be connected to fantastical dragons, incestuous relations were once common within their family. After the turn of the century, their house which was once full of riches and immense power, halted in this practice. That is, until Rhaenyra whored herself out to her father’s brother at a young age. Despite this scandal, his half-sister steadily remained their father’s favorite, even after her marriage to Daemon and the birth of two sons.

“Come, brother. There’s no need to play shy,” Aegon snickers in Aemond’s silence, the alcoholic stench of his breath lingering under his nose. “We are Targaryen’s after all… surely you’ve thought about giving it to her. I know I have. Especially after the… incident.”

“I have no taste for such depravity.”

His brother groans, hand slipping off his shoulder as he wobbles off, unsatisfied with Aemond’s answer. Before he can leave, Aemond reaches out to stop him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re embarrassing us, lēkia.”

Aegon merely shrugs him off, stumbling over his feet as he walks out of the room, barely making it through the archway without tripping. The sight makes him grumble, jawbone tense as he grinds his teeth, returning his attention to the window, where a mess of dark curls now sits, face hidden from view. He has only glimpsed her once, when leaving the funeral, her eyes watery and nose tinted a shade of pink, tear tracks staining her cheeks. She had smiled at him. The image has been playing on a loop inside his head, a never ending reel of her pretty face and that ringing laugh, ever since he saw it.

Lucerys Velaryon has always been beautiful, he thinks. The features he has always hated in her brother– that stubby nose, the freckles along their cheeks, their dark hair and dark eyes– sneering down at him as he pushed him to the ground, were always devastating in her. As children, he had imagined she was the Maiden reincarnated, the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on, even when she’d laugh in his misery, carrying out her small tortures with every lingering look and every brush of her skin against his. After she took his eye, her face began to haunt him for different reasons, and his dreams of her becoming his bride turned into nightmares where her laugh would echo around his head while her blade cut into his flesh once again, this time taking his other eye as well. His hatred grew into a cruel thing, festering deep inside him until it started to rot through his bones, and every thought turned violent.

Rhaenyra would send their father pictures of her and her bastards, and he’d hang them around the house, in every hallway and on every fireplace mantle. Every year, they’d have a new picture, and as if to taunt him, Lucerys’ was always hung on the wall across from his bedroom door. He has always suspected Aegon of this pettiness, for his brother would often catch him glaring at the portrait from his doorway, eye tracing the curls of her hair and the curve of her jaw. Her eyes seemed to follow him as he walked, up until he would slam his door shut, locking her away from view. His hatred, still burning bright, had mixed with a different feeling that left a tight coil in his stomach, one which twisted more and more each time he saw that damned portrait.

Her face is etched along the inside of his eyelid, forced to see her every time he closes his eye. He has memorized every freckle, every curve and dip, even the milky scar that sits near her hairline from an accident when they were children, when Aegon had bumped into her, causing her to fall and hit her forehead against a jagged rock. The sight of her blood along the stones had nauseated him at the time, and so did her tears, fat as they dripped down her cheeks and into her wailing mouth. Now, he thinks he would quite like to see her blood again, to hear her cries as he inflicts the same pain she had once inflicted on him. His pants grow tighter at the thought, but he can’t find it in himself to be ashamed.

The air in the room grows thick, and he watches as Jacaerys stands above her, hand resting on the crown of her head, fingers slowly caressing the strands. She looks up with a small smile, eyes glowing in the midday sun that shines through the window next to her. His hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white as she laughs again, the sound ringing in his ears like a persistent bell. He quickly makes his way out of the stuffy room, shoulders tense as he passes by his mother and half-sister, neither of whom have looked away from one another since their reunion. The hallway is empty, and so is the looming staircase, which he climbs in stride, farther away from the center room and her lingering laugh. Beneath his eyepatch, his empty socket begins to throb, a searing pain shooting through the wound until his vision nearly goes white, and he’s left stumbling into his room, collapsing on the bed.

His curtains are still closed, shielding him away from the blazing sun, leaving his room dark with only slivers of light shining along the floor. He lays among rumpled sheets, tugging off the leather patch fastened around his head, bringing a shaky palm up to cover the aching hole. He is used to this pain, which plagues him more often than not, but within the presence of the one who created it, it seems to swell over him like a tidal wave. He barely hears the knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, a few seconds go by, until someone barges in.

Even in the dark he can still make out her wide eyes and the sheath of curls around her shoulders, her steps timid as she comes to a stop at the edge of his bed, fingers curled together in a nervous habit. “Are you alright, uncle?”

Her soft voice rouses him, his palm pressing deeper into his empty socket, while he looks up at her hovering figure. Her eyes dart over his face, lingering on his hand which covers his wound, and he wonders if she is remembering how he had covered his eye that night she had taken it, how he screamed and cried atop the sand, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers, a perfect match to the blood dripping from the dagger in her small hands. When she quickly averts her gaze to a corner of his room, he feels a smug satisfaction rumbling in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry to bother you,” she murmurs, voice faltering slightly in his silence. “I was asked to come check on you.”

He hums. “By who?”

She’s quiet, eyes flicking back at him as if she is surprised by the sound of his voice. He merely stares back, palm growing sweaty in its position. Like a deer caught in headlights, her mouth opens and closes, before she finally speaks.

“Our mothers wish for our families to make amends. Given the death of Viserys.”

Aemond sits up at this, dropping his hand to his lap, stare hardening as her eyes dart to the now exposed scar, to the gaping hole where his eye once laid. She swallows, but makes no attempt to back away or close her eyes. Instead, Lucerys draws closer, head leaning over to get a better look at her work in the dim room. His stomach churns, fingers inching towards the eyepatch that sits beside him, yet he stops himself from grabbing it. No, he wants her to see what she did to him.

“You want to make amends?” he pushes, voice raspy from his dry throat. He sits up farther, leaning closer to her hovering frame. She nods. “And how do you plan on doing that, riñītsos?”

She looks at him in trepidation, lips tugging downwards and her brows furrowing above her dark eyes. The black dress she wears is short, hem stopping in the middle of her thighs, the material tight around her waist, and his eye snags on the motion of one of the straps falling off her shoulder, resting above a small freckle. She doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just doesn’t care, her stare not wavering as she makes no move to fix it. There’s a look in her eyes he’s never seen before, something gleaming and intoxicating, drawing him into a pool of soft velvet. He wants to hold them, those delicate globes, in his hands, feel the warm slime of them like two marbles.

In a quick motion, spurred on by his vivid imagination, he grabs ahold of her jaw, tugging her face close to his. “Will you take out your eye, hm? Give me what’s been owed all these years?”

Lucerys surprises him. Instead of falling back in fear, she merely smiles. It’s sardonic in nature, and he watches in trepidation as her eyes flicker down to rest upon his lips. So quick, he barely registers it, yet the action shocks a bolt of lightning down his spine, and his grip on her jaw tightens in a mix of dubiety and fury. Her smile only seems to grow wider at this, as if she is aware of every thought crossing his mind, nestling their way into the mush of his brain.

“Is that what you want, uncle? My eye?”

It is, he thinks. And so much more. He wasn’t lying when he told Aegon he has no taste for depravity, always the dutiful son despite what has befell him. Aemond tries hard to wash away his vengeful urges, the stirring of his cock when he imagines his little niece writhing in pain, covered in bruises and bleeding cuts, her eyes wide and tearful as she squeals like a piglet, under the might of his fists and his knife. His thoughts have only grown darker, crueler than he cared to admit, with flashes of his suckling on her open wounds like his mothers tit when he was a babe, warm blood resting along his tongue instead of milk. Nothing would taste as sweet, he was sure of it.

With a tug, Lucerys topples over him, her body plush against his own, and he quickly flips them over, his knees up against her ribcage. Her face is flushed from exertion, her hands scrambling against his chest and shoulders, legs kicking out from under him, though her efforts are in vain as Aemond merely tightens his grip around her. Stubbornly, her lips pursed into a sour smile, she stops her struggling and stares up at him in defiance.

“Go ahead then,” she goads, raising her chin and bringing her hands up to rest against his back, fingernails digging through his shirt and into his skin. He hopes they leave marks. “I won’t scream. I won’t fight. I refuse to give you the satisfaction of my pain, uncle.”

A deep, twisted rage sits within him, rising in plumes of smoke like the molten lava from an exploding volcano, and as he glares down at his sweet niece, the image of their homeland flashes across his vision. Their ancestors once lived on the island of Valyria, a prosperous place that had been home to the largest mount, which erupted and destroyed the land, as well as all those who resided there. A few Targaryen’s were lucky to escape just a few years before, and he thinks about this luck now, bringing a hand up to wrap around the width of Lucerys’ neck. She keeps her word; she doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to scream, even as his fingers tighten enough to bruise, cutting off her air circulation. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, and Aemond finds himself groaning, arousal splashing over him like ice water.

He removes his hand. Lucerys gasps for air, nails no longer digging into his skin, hands now limp around his waist. Her gaze looks down, chest heaving as she slightly tilts her head, focusing on Aemond’s lap. With a flush, he realizes she’s staring at his erection, which is pushing against his trousers, its heaviness resting against her abdomen. Her eyes glimmer at the sight, pink lips tugging upwards into another smug smile, hands inching towards his thighs that are still wrapped around her. When her fingers press against his thighs, he jolts back.

She sits up with a small laugh. “I thought you wanted to put out my eye, Aem.”

The nickname, one he hasn’t heard since they were children, running along the beach together, toes nestling along the sand, salty waves lapping against their ankles. It makes his chest twinge, an ache forming under his ribs, and he quickly turns away, resting his hands on the wooden surface of his desk. “Get out.”

It’s quiet, with only the sound of their families downstairs, chatting and laughing, which does nothing to help the tension of the room. He hears her sigh, short legs twisting beneath her as she climbs off his bed, shoes hitting the floor softly. She lingers at the door, hand resting on the doorknob while her eyes burn holes into his back, willing him to say something, but he doesn’t. He merely waits in silence, solemn in the dark corner of his room, among his books and journals. It’s only when he hears the door open and shut, and the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hallway and onto the stairs, does he sit back on his bed, lowering himself down to press his nose against the spot where she once laid, the scent of her still fresh on his sheets.

She’s taunting him, eyes avoiding his own one-eyed stare, dark hair fanning over her face every time she turns to speak to her brother, as if she’s hiding from him. As if she hadn’t smiled as he sat atop her, hands around her neck, a threat on the tip of his tongue. Now, she sits across from him, at the far end of the long dining table, nothing but wood and various dishes separating them.

Perhaps he should’ve taken her eye when he had the chance, he thinks. In the moment, he had doubted she wouldn’t have screamed. He knows the pain of losing an eye all too well, searing and bone-deep. Despite her promises, Lucerys Velaryon would’ve cried out the minute his blade touched her skin, and their families would have rushed into the room and stopped him in his act of revenge. No, if he was to take her eye, he needed to do so in a secluded place, where no one could interrupt him.

Helaena, sitting beside him, mumbles something, her hand feather-light against his own. He looks over at her, and she merely lifts out her other palm, showing him the fuzzy caterpillar that slowly moves along her skin. He can’t help but smile, though his sister doesn’t notice as she keeps her lilac gaze on the small critter she holds, moving her hand from him to run a finger gently down its spine. Next to her, Aegon snorts in his cup, taking another swig before leaning back in his chair, a slimy grin on his face.

“Have you given any more thought to what I said earlier, little brother?”

His words are slurred, and Aemond decides to ignore him, lifting his own cup to his lips and taking a sip. In the middle, his mother sits beside Rhaenyra, their heads bent towards one another, lips pulled into wistful smiles, as if they are old friends, or perhaps lovers. Daemon had gone home, taking their three youngest with him, as well as his twin daughters, leaving his niece-wife and her two eldest in the hands of the woman they both once despised.

Aegon, never one for taking hints, continues. “If you don’t want her, I’ll be happy to show our dear niece a good time. I have hopes she’ll be… pure.”

Clenching his jaw, Aemond finally looks over at his drunken brother, giving him the attention he seemingly craves. Aegon smirks, head tipped forward as he leans over Helaena, who is still too busy with her caterpillar. From the corner of his eye, he can see their mother looking over at her eldest son cautiously, though when Rhaenyra whispers something in her ear, she looks away.

Aemond opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by the sound of Lucerys’ laughter, and the breaking of glass. Him and Aegon advert their gazes to the opposite end of the table, where Jacaerys stands with reddened cheeks, holding the broken stem of a wine glass. Lucerys is hunched over, laughter bubbling out of her lips, tears dotting the corners of her eyes, reminding Aemond of when he had his hands around her throat only a few hours earlier. The thought makes him shift in his seat, a sliver of heat darting through his abdomen.

“Jace… oh my God,” she stutters out, still laughing, hand lifting up as she shows the table her palm, where a shard of glass sticks out, blood trickling down her wrist. Jace immediately darts forward, grabbing her arm, tilting her hand towards him so he can inspect the wound, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “It’s fine, brother. I’m okay!”

Rhaenyra also rounds the table, cradling her daughter's head against her chest, smoothing a hand down her curls. Lucerys continues to laugh, though it slowly starts to turn into giggles, which eventually die down until she’s left hiccupping, ruddy cheeks stained with tears from her outburst. His mother had run off, and now she returns, first aid kit in hand, which she gives to his half-sister, who puts her hand on Lucerys’ shoulder, pushing her to sit back in her chair. Aemond watches as her blood continues a path down her arm, before beginning to drip onto the surface of the table, leaving small dots of crimson.

She watches with watery eyes as her mother grabs a pair of tweezers, going for the glass jutting out her skin. “Shh, it’s okay, my darling girl.”

The shard is slowly pulled out, a bubbling of more blood rising to the surface, and Aemond watches with a hard cock. It’s placed on a napkin atop the table, next to the pool of blood that now seeps into the wood, yet no one moves to clean it up. Or maybe his mother does, her scabbed fingers wiping the liquid away with a cloth, always one for cleanliness. Aemond wouldn’t know, as his eye is trained on the cut along Lucerys’ palm, as her own mother tends to it. A wipe is swiped across, turning from white to red, and then comes the gauze, which is wrapped around continuously, until the blood ceases to seep through the material. The whole time, his little niece sits without flinching, eyes watching him as he watches her.

When she’s finished, the wound now covered, the room is quiet for just a moment, before a booming clap of thunder echoes against the walls, and the sound of pouring rain pings off the roof. Jace is on his knees beside his sister, hands holding her wrist, whispering apologies in her ear, ones which she doesn’t reply to as she continues to stare across the table. It isn’t until Jace follows her gaze that she replies, before picking up her fork and stabbing at a lone carrot that sits on her plate, bringing it up to her lips as she finally looks away, giving her older brother a smile.

Dinner continues as before, and by now, Aegon has slumped over his chair, fast asleep in his drunkenness. Their mother, surprisingly, pays him no mind, and neither does Helaena, who excuses herself to her room, eyes still focused on the crawling insect she holds. Rhaenyra continuously peeks over at Lucerys, face glossed in worry, but she merely listens to her brother talk, occasionally nodding her head or laughing softly at whatever it is he was droning on about. With nothing to distract him, Aemond is silent in his suffering as he watches her, eye flickering down to her wrapped palm every few minutes, as if willing it to peel off and show him that red slice once more.

The storm has gotten worse, lightning flashing through the closed windows nearly every second, the thunder becoming so loud that it interrupts his mother and half-sisters conversation, the both of them wondering aloud on whether it will pass or continue through the night. It is already dark out, the ticking clock reading nine o’clock, and it is his mother who proposes the idea.

“Please, Rhaenyra,” her fingers rub against her scar, eyes pleading. “Stay. It is too dangerous to leave now, in the dark while it’s storming so heavily. We have more than enough guest rooms for you, Luke, and Jace to stay in.”

His mothers use of Lucerys’ nickname jolts him. Beside him, Aegon lets out a snore.

Despite her wariness, Rhaenyra agrees to stay the night, and Aemond thinks he has never seen his mother so happy before. With a huff, he stands, and when his mother doesn’t even look at him, too busy staring at his whore half-sister with stars in her eyes, he takes that as his cue to leave. He glances over at Lucerys once more, both her and Jace now watching him, their matching eyes and noses making him want to sneer. Instead, he makes his way out of the dining room, his steps heavy as he trudges up the stairs, head throbbing in tune with the pattering rain.

He can barely sleep, his body restless as he tosses and turns among rumpled sheets, nose twitching against the scent of her that still lingers. Aemond swears he can feel her, even as she sleeps just down the hall, and his skin is slick with sweat, a pulse running through his swelling cock. He teases himself, brushing a hand between his thighs, coiling away when he only gets harder, silver hair sticking to his flushed face as he lays there with the heavy weight of shame bearing down on his chest. His only solace being the plip-plop of the rain against his window, the storm now passed, leaving only that soft sound in its wake, soothing along his headache.

Something wriggles beneath the skin of his chest, insistent as he sits up, looking around the dark room, a warning bell ringing within his ears. When he looks out the window, a flash of white crosses his vision, and for a moment, he thinks the storm has started again. It isn’t until he sees her curls, slightly damp and sticking to her shoulders, does he realize that it’s her, not the storm. She walks across the backyard, towards the small woods that sits behind their estate, clad in nothing but her nightgown. Without thinking, Aemond is slipping on a shirt and his shoes, his steps rushed as he sneaks down the stairs and out the backdoor, gaze trained on her retreating figure.

The rain is merely a drizzle now, yet it still dampens his clothes and hair, leaving raindrops along his skin, as he walks between trees, swiping at hanging branches and leaves, holding his breath as he stalks after her. She doesn’t seem to hear him, as she continues on, not faltering in her pace. The path she’s leading looks familiar to him, and he realizes that it’s the same path they used to trek as children. It leads to an old lake, full of tiny fish and swampy water, which they used to dare one another to jump in, all too afraid of what lurked below the muck. When they make it to the clearing, Lucerys doesn’t hesitate to walk up to the bank, standing along withered stones and tall weeds. The sight of the water stops Aemond in his tracks, a memory rushing to him like a vision.

It had been the hottest summer of their young lives that year, and they all spent it among the trees, lounging under the cool air the shade provided, playing trolls and goblins. When they had first discovered the lake, it was Aegon who pushed Aemond in. He had flailed within the dirty water, pale arms splashing through algae and brine as he gasped out for help, not yet knowing how to swim. Jace and Aegon had stood on the bank laughing, and to his horror, Lucerys had disappeared. It wasn’t until she rushed out from the trees, Uncle Daemon in tow, that Aemond was saved, laying along the grass and coughing up water and vomit, shivering under the stares of those around him, Daemon’s hand hard as it slapped his back. His mother had scolded Aegon, who swore he didn’t remember that his younger brother couldn’t swim, and he only became more cruel in his anger after she grounded him.

As he remembers the look on Lucerys’ young face, pinched in worry, cheeks flushed pink and bright eyes teary, he thinks perhaps he had just imagined that part. It was what he once dreamed most of; his niece caring for him. He knows this is far from the truth, as she spins around, arms held out in front of her, gaze locked on his lingering figure. Her lips curl into a sweet smile, and she wiggles her fingers, as if she is beckoning him over. Aemond finds that his rage has made another appearance, replacing his pondering with a rising fury as he makes his way towards her, swaying on her bare feet, her grin brighter than the full moon in the sky above them.

He reaches out for her, hands tight against her arms, and he watches with a curious gaze as her flesh pebbles beneath his touch, her damp skin dotted with raindrops and gooseflesh. Her head is heavy as she beams up at him, eyes hazy with sleep, her lashes fluttering under his stare. She whispers his name, lips plush around the word, dropping her head to rest against his thumping chest, nose nuzzling along the cotton of his shirt. For a moment, Aemond allows himself to revel in her warmth, his own nose resting within her hair, dark curls tickling his cheeks, and he inhales deeply, the smell of lavender and honey and rain intoxicating his senses. Lucerys presses herself closer, and as the minutes tick by, he realizes she has been sleepwalking.

Aemond has only heard tales about Lucerys’ supposed sleepwalking habit. Years ago, according to Rhaenyra, Lucerys had nearly walked out the top window in her room, her eyes open wide in an unwavering stare, bare feet pressed against the sill. It had taken Daemon picking her up and carrying her to her bed to get her to safety, and the next morning, when asked about what had happened the previous night, Lucerys hadn’t a clue what they were talking about. Daemon took to installing locks on all the windows around their home, and after that, Aemond hadn’t heard much else about his niece’s sleepwalking. He figured it was a thing of the past, something she has grown out of in the shedding of her adolescence.

Now, she stands slumped against his chest, breathing steady and her lips parted as soft sighs and snores escape her throat. The rain picks up, drizzling harder than before, and a rumbling of thunder is heard along the horizon, yet Lucerys looks peaceful in her slumber, even as Aemond’s grip on her becomes tighter. A twisted part of him thinks about how easy it would be to hurt her now, as she lays in the mercy of his hands, the same in which once easily wrapped around her throat and squeezed until her face was red. Another part of him, one much darker and persistent, wishes to slip the thin straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, to suckle on her pert nipples which press against the sheer satin, to dip a hand between her supple thighs and caress the hottest part of her.

Her neck is bare, and as he looks down, he realizes with sudden certainty that there is no one here to stop him. The moon is aglow, locusts buzzing within the grass, an occasional hoot from a lone owl, and they are in the middle of the woods, in a place unknown by anyone but them as children. She is pliant within his hold, lashes resting against her cheeks, heartbeat steady within her delicate chest. It is something he had once dreamed of, swathed in sweat-soaked sheets, cock spent along his taut stomach. And with a single dip of his chin, he is able to press his lips along the skin of her neck, right below her thrumming pulse.

She doesn’t stir, not even as his lips form a path down to her collarbones, the bones jutting out just enough for him to bite around, the feel of it between his teeth making him groan. His tongue slicks against the mark, dipping into each indent, before making its way up to her jaw, where he nibbles and sucks on the skin. His hands have moved to rest upon her hips, but as she starts to slip from his grasp, he wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her close to him once more, her breasts plush against his soaked shirt, nipples scratching between them.

He barely hears the gasp. “A-Aemond…?”

Her hands come up to his shoulders, pushing frantically as he bites down on the skin of her jaw, the sharp ache making her yelp. When he tastes blood, he finally softens, lips now wrapped around the skin, tongue lapping over the small wound. As Lucerys continues to squirm, fingernails now digging into his skin, he wrestles her to the ground, hands squelching in the mud beneath her as he holds himself above her, lips stained with a single drop of blood.

“Where are we? How did…” she trails off, realization clicking as she takes in the dark sky and the pajamas she still wears. Her eyes are glossy as she gazes up at him, the mark on her jaw shining like a beacon, encouraging him to press himself against her again. This time, she doesn’t struggle, still confused as she looks around the clearing, catching sight of the familiar lake.

His cock is pulsating as it rests between them, and he barely notices as he cants his hips to rub along her clothed cunt, white-hot pleasure shooting up his spine, making him close his eye and press his lips to her throat once again. Her breath hitches at his movements, her own legs unconsciously spreading wider, opening herself up for him to rut against her like a hound in heat. Shame twinges within his brain, yet Lucerys wraps an arm around his back, as if encouraging his ministrations, and he forces it to the back of his mind as he digs his fingers into the slick mud, hips rocking faster. She whines out, “Aem.”

In a frenzy, he brings a hand up to paw at her dress, tugging down the straps until he bares her breasts, mud staining the fabric and her skin. His lips are quick to wrap around them, going back and forth between the two, before slipping a pert nipple into his mouth, groaning at the taste of her. He imagines them swollen with milk, her stomach round with his child, her hands smoothing down his hair as he nurses from her, her sweet liquid warm as it pools in the pit of him. He grows harder at the thought, teeth nibbling at the bud, his body weight crashing atop her as he brings his other hand over to caress her other breast, fingers tweaking the lonely nipple. Her back seems to arch beneath him, her own hips matching the rhythm of his, her breath hot against his head.

“Please,” she whispers, tugging at the strands of his hair. When her pulling becomes harsher, he allows her to tug him up, her mouth agape as she tilts her chin, searching for his lips. She kisses him, wanton as she juts out her hips against his, hands frantic as they run down his shoulders and under his soaked shirt, nails scratching along his skin. Her tongue slips over his, and he thinks she tastes like the sweetest poison, of cherries and arsenic.

He pushes himself up once more, knees digging into the earth beneath him, and he doesn’t think as he rips off her dress, pulling it down her legs in one swipe. Her underwear is purple, a pretty shade of lilac that reminds him of his own eye, with a little rose in the middle, now stained with mud and grass as she writhes, trying to hide the patch of wetness that seeps through the dainty fabric. Aemond is quick to lean down, pressing his nose against her navel, the smell of rain and sleep tainting her flesh, and he gives her a small lick, from her belly button to the hem of her underwear. She whines, bare chest heaving as she looks down at him, eyes pleading underneath a cloud of wariness, brows furrowed as if she is fighting a battle within her mind. When he comes face to face with her clothed cunt, he doesn’t hesitate to press his tongue against the spot of her arousal, the cotton soft along his tongue as he laps at it, trying to taste her slickness.

“Iksan jāre naejot qogralbar ao,” he grits out over the rain, his cock aching as he lays flat against it, head still between her thighs. “Yn jaelan naejot sylutegon ao ēlī.” (I am going to fuck you. But I want to taste you first).

He doesn’t ponder over whether she knows High Valyrian, the language of their ancestors, but when she lets out a moan, her head nodding against the ground, a sense of pride settles within him. He pulls the last remaining piece of clothing off, bringing his hands to her thighs, which he pushes up so that her knees are pressed against her chest, leaving her wide open for him. A groan leaves him at the sight of her wet cunt, and when he lays his tongue flat against her pearl, he nearly creams his pajama pants at the pulsing of her and the taste of her arousal. Like a man starved, his tongue laps over the whole of her, licking and sucking as she writhes and moans, a flush starting from her chest to her hairline washing over her like a veil. His hips grind into the earth below him, his eye focused on her wet face, strands of her dark hair stuck to her cheeks and across her gaping lips. He thinks she might look even prettier like this than when she cries.

She’s wanton in her moans, head lolling back and forth, eyes squeezed shut as Aemond presses a finger into her wet cavern, his own eye fluttering shut at the tightness, a ring of soft muscles clenching down. His tongue focuses on her pearl, which throbs as he flicks and presses against it, engorged in its pleasure, and as he crooks a finger up inside her, her hips buck up in a spasm, though the grip he has on her legs, which still press up to her chest, stops her from moving. A loud whimper leaves her lips, and her peak comes quickly, her arousal gushing around his finger. When she finally calms down, going slack under him, he pulls his finger out and immediately licks her cream off it, before going back in to clean up her now sensitive cunt.

Her fingers tangle within his hair, tugging to pull him off her as she wriggles under his licks, and when he finally pulls away, her grip is strong as she whines before he gives in and rests his weight above her, lips hovering her own. Her tongue comes out to lap at them, small kitten licks that grow more greedy, until she’s slipping between them and pressing him close to her. She groans, perhaps at the taste of herself on his tongue, her hips already jutting back up against him, brushing over his aching cock, desperate for more like his own ravenous whore. His hands are quick as they push down his muddied pants, cock springing up against his soaked abdomen, bringing the head to rub along the seam of her. Lucerys seems to tense under him at the feeling, but he pays no mind as he presses the tip against her tight hole, still slick and warm even after her peak.

“Aem-“ she gasps out, hands against his shoulders, eyes wide in fear at the feeling of his cock pressing into her. “I…”

He slams his hips flush against her with a grunt, a yelp escaping her quivering mouth, fingernails digging deep into the cotton of his shirt. Tears immediately start to stream down her flushed cheeks in rivulets, soft sobs building up within her closed throat. Aemond has never felt such dizzying pleasure, white hot and shooting through every nerve in his body, until he feels like he’s aflame. He doesn’t falter as Lucerys cries, his pace fast and deep, pulling out until just the tip of him remains, before slamming back in, his sack slapping against her ass. When he looks down, he can see her blood on his cock, and the sight of it, as well as the confirmation of her virginity, makes him grow frenzier, tongue running along her salty cheeks, moaning at the taste of her tears. He wants to bite her, to draw blood, to taste the very marrow of her.

A growl leaves him as he bites down against her wet cheek, the chub of it soft between his teeth. Her hands are quick to shove at his chest, though her moans and the sounds of her slickness, sticky against him, makes him believe his sweet little niece likes it just as much as he does. When he pulls away, he revels in the sight of the marks he left, bright pink and sure to turn a purple-blue after. Her sobs slowly turn into hiccups, which turn into moans that she tries to hold back with a bite to her lips, but when Aemond wraps one hand around her throat, they turn into gasps. He squeezes hard, holding for just a few seconds, before slackening his grip, letting her breathe if only for a moment, hips digging painfully into the back of her thighs with every thrust.

“You’re h-hurting me, uncle,” Lucerys cries out, doe eyes red from her tears, peering up at his grunting face above her own flushed one. “Kostilus.” (Please).

“Mazemilā ziry hae se sȳz byka līve iksā,” he sneers, bringing his body down to rest against her shivering frame, arms wrapping around her back, slick along the mud. He presses her flush to him, and she is quick to hold onto him, legs curling below the crook of his arse. “Mirre ñuhon.” (You will take it like the good little whore you are. All mine).

Her moans are sticky against his neck, lips brushing along the damp skin every time she opens her mouth, the sounds ringing in his ears above the pittering of the rain and the grumbles of occasional thunder. His fingers scratch down her back, hips stuttering as her cunt squeezes around his cock, warm and slick and unwilling to let him go. When she pulls her head up from its spot against his neck, hands scrambling to rest along his jaw, bringing his face up to look at her, eyes zoning in on the empty socket where his left eye once sat, it is then that he realizes he didn’t put on his eyepatch. He nearly shrinks into himself, jerking his chin away from her grasp so he can sink his face back against her hair, but she doesn’t relent. Instead, her fingers trace along the jagged scar, lips open in awe as she admires the work of her own hand.

Lucerys presses her lips right below the gaping hole of his eye, tongue gentle as she licks up the length of his scar. With her mouth resting just above the dark cavern, she whispers the words he has always wanted to hear, “I’m sorry, Aem. Iksan vaoreznuni.” (I am sorry).

He pushes her down to the wet ground once more, head slamming into the slush below, and she lets out a squeal, hands scrambling to push herself up. His hips snap into hers, palms tight against her wrists as he holds her down, vision a red haze. It isn’t enough. Her apology means nothing to him now, all these years after. Years spent mourning the loss of his eye, ruminating in the humiliation and injustice of that night, listening to the whispers of his classmates as they pondered over what sight sat beneath his leather eyepatch. Years of sharp pain shooting through his empty socket, of headaches that never went away, of dreaming of the one who caused this agony, her pretty face and that ringing laughter. Nothing she can say will ever be enough.

Tears stream down her pink cheeks, repainting the tracks left previously, her moans now gasps of pain and pleasure. He sits on his knees, her ass across his thighs, hips lifted upwards as he fucks her pliant body, like his own little doll. Her hair is matted with a mix of rain and mud, lips quivering and her eyes squeezed shut, a flush of shame and arousal settling across her bare chest. She looks so beautiful, so much like that young girl who has haunted his dreams since they first met, when she was just a babe and he a little boy who couldn’t yet form a sentence.

One of his hands slides up her bruised wrist, to rest along the gauze-covered palm, drawn to the wound that will scar her. His fingers dig beneath the wrap, lifting it up until the cut is bared, and as he feels her clench around him again, a breathy moan leaving her lips as her release washes over her, he leans his head down to lick along the seam. Dried blood flakes away, and as he presses his wet muscle harder, the cut reopens, blood blossoming out of it like a stream of water, which he doesn’t hesitate to lap over. His own release hits him like a tidal wave, the taste of her blood intoxicating him as he presses into her with one final thrust, his other hand going to grab onto her waist, thumb brushing against the bulge of his cock in her abdomen. She lays motionless as he uses her, until only small dots of blood remain along the reopened wound, and his cock has softened inside her, his seed hot against her womb.

Aemond rolls off of her with a grunt, hissing as her spent cunt seems to grasp at him as he pulls out. Between her thighs is a mess of blood and semen, a mix of their essences wet along his cock, and he almost hardens at the sight. He brings his fingers up to gather the pooling of the liquid that seeps out from her hole, roughly pushing it back in with a groan, her whimper sending another wave of arousal down his spine. She twitches beneath him, and when he is confident that his seed has stuck, he removes himself from her, rolling over onto his back and gazing up at the full moon, no longer covered by storm clouds. Beside him, Lucerys is quiet, only an occasional sniffle, and it seems like they lay there for hours, not speaking, not moving. Just waiting, three eyes focused on the night sky above them.

When she finally gets up, he watches with a hazy eye as she pulls on what remains of her nightgown, now a tattered, muddied mess of silk. She starts to walk off on shaky legs, but she pauses, turning back to look down at him.

“It was an accident, you know,” her voice is raspy, throat sore from the moans and cries that left her lips that night. “We were kids… I thought you were gonna kill Jace. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Aemond.”

He doesn’t say anything. She waits a few more moments, before finally walking off, her figure disappearing among the trees, leaving him alone by the still lake. He brings his fingers up to his lips, still wet from their mixed concoction of semen and blood, and takes his time licking them off. The taste is enough to slowly fill the gaping cavern in his chest, one full of rage and violence, images of his niece's body beneath him, naked in the moonlight, flushed from head to toe, racing through his mind in a kaleidoscope of memories.

Perhaps it was enough. Her apology, those saccharine words that dripped from her tongue like honey. He thinks maybe he can forgive her.

An eye for her innocence, for the blood that stains his cock and teeth.

a/n: this is crossposted to ao3 (user finalgrls)! kinda the darkest thing i’ve written so far, but it’s definitely the work im proudest of. i’d LOVE any feedback, even if it’s negative <3 i hope u enjoyed!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #female!lucerys velaryon x aemond targaryen #lucemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction

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drgnmnts · 2 months

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knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 3 - Dragonstone

Word count: 3k

When Daenys opened her eyes again, she found herself back in bed. From the light beginning to filter through the window, she assumed it was already dawn. Glancing around the room, she noticed her mother sitting beside her, eyes fixed on Daenys’ hand as it rested on hers. Ser Criston stood guard by the door and was the first to notice she had awakened.

“There she is, Your Grace,” he notified Alicent. The queen looked up immediately, relief washing over her features.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” she whispered, placing her palm on her daughter’s forehead to check for a temperature. Daenys watched her, feeling a bit confused.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You fainted. From the anguish, the maester said,” Alicent informed, her lips a tight line.

“A dragonrider since you were nine, and I have to be scooping you off the floor like a damsel in distress,” quipped Ser Criston, making Daenys chuckle. The queen didn’t react.

The memory of the previous hours made Daenys’ smile fade. She couldn’t remember much, but the important bits were impossible to gloss over: Aemond had lost an eye at the hands of Lucerys Velaryon, whose brother was now her betrothed. A tight knot in her throat made her believe she might choke, but Daenys was able to speak anyway.

“What Father and Grandsire said. Do I really have to…?”

“Yes, sweetling,” Alicent confirmed, eyes full of sorrow.

At her mother’s answer, tears welled up in Daenys’ eyes, and when she spoke again she sounded half her age. “But I don’t want to.”

Alicent didn’t respond. Instead, she just held her daughter’s hand again, unable to meet her gaze.

“Is it— is it something I’ve done, is that it? Is Father cross with me?” Daenys asked, anxiety starting to bubble up in her chest again.

“Your father isn’t punishing you, Daenys…” Alicent assured, visibly tired. She had probably spent the whole night without any sleep.

“Then isn’t there anything you can do?” Daenys questioned, her voice high-pitched as she tried to speak between whimpers. “I know I misbehave sometimes, but I can change, Mother. I— I’ll marry Aemond, no one will want him without the eye but I would, I can be a good wife. And I’ll ride Silverwing less if you want, and I’ll study more. I’ll be good, I— I can be good.”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She felt powerless, unable to calm her daughter since there truly was nothing she could do to change Daenys’ destiny. She recalled feeling equally vulnerable many years ago, in her youth, as her father commanded her to marry the king, to give him children, only to terrorize her with their impending deaths right before leaving her alone in a place where she did not have any friends; not anymore, at least.

Everywhere in the world they hurt little girls.

The queen rubbed her forehead, perhaps in an attempt to appease a migraine that was beginning to spread. When she looked up again, her eyes showed no sign of tenderness, only determination. As she spoke, Otto Hightower’s words came out of her mouth.

“I suppose you’re old enough to learn about sacrifice, what it really means; sometimes we must do things we dislike, especially women in our position. Do you think your sister wants to marry Aegon? Do you think I—” she cut herself, but Daenys knew exactly what she had meant to say. “When Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne, your brother Aegon’s very existence will be a challenge to her position. This means he could be put to the sword, as could Aemond,” she explained. Daenys had to make an effort to hold in a sob. “This betrothal… It may not seem like it now, but in the future, when you’re older, it could mean the difference between life and death for this family. When a man loves his wife, he… he would be willing to spare his enemies if it saves her from heartbreak. Jacaerys is young now, but he won’t stay a boy forever, and neither will you.” Alicent put a hand on her daughter’s cheek, but this time it didn’t comfort Daenys. Instead, she felt even more entrapped by her family’s scheming. “If you do your duty well, if you manage to make him love you, then… no one would have to die.”

Responsibility fell on Daenys like a stone.

In her younger years, she had never even imagined herself marrying someone that wasn’t Aemond. As the king’s third daughter, not much was expected of her in terms of alliances with other Great Houses, as she offered little value in that regard. Now, however, it seemed that she had become her family’s strongest asset to secure peace between the two factions beginning to form.

“I don’t want Aegon to die,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I know, my love,” Alicent replied with a sad smile that reflected the look in her eyes.

Daenys swallowed. “You say I must make him love me, but… what if I never love him?”

The queen took a deep breath as she raised from the chair. Bending over her daughter’s body, she kissed the girl’s forehead.

“Then you will love the children he gives you, and that shall be enough.”

______________________________________________

Watching her family sail away across the bay caused Daenys a kind of pain she had never experienced before. After trying to keep a stiff lip as she said goodbye to her siblings and other members of the royal court, it was in the solitude of the lookout that she finally allowed herself to cry for her family. At the foot of the crag, Silverwing wailed as she watched the other dragons return home.

“I figured I would find you here.”

Daenys tensed immediately, not needing to turn around. She knew who it was.

“You were very brave, you know?” Rhaenyra said, finding a place next to her sister but keeping her distance. “Goodbyes are always painful.”

Daenys couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to Rhaenyra. Their relationship had always been strained, despite living in the same castle. Whenever Daenys showed any interest in getting close to her half-sister, her mother was quick to nip it in the bud. Over time, this led to Daenys feeling nervous whenever she found herself in Rhaenyra's presence, as if something horrible might happen as a result of a simple conversation.

“Will I be allowed to ride my dragon?” the girl asked, eyes still fixed on the ship as it got further and further.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I might try to escape,” she replied simply. A small smile tugged at Rhaenyra’s lips, but Daenys didn’t see it.

“You’re not a prisoner, Daenys. You can visit your family as much as you’d like,” the woman explained.

This new information perked Daenys’ interest, her eyes finally meeting Rhaenyra’s.

“Then why must I go with you now? Why can’t I stay with my family until it’s time?” she asked, and it angered her that she could already feel her eyes welling up with tears again.

Rhaenyra breathed through her nose, trying to find the right words.

“I suggested to Father that it would be better for the two of you to become friends before you are to wed. I wouldn’t want my son to marry a stranger.”

Daenys’ gaze turned back to the horizon; she couldn’t see the ship anymore. The girl held back her tears.

As she bitterly accepted the fact that her family was truly gone, Alicent’s words resonated in her head: This betrothal could mean the difference between life and death for this family. When she looked back up at Rhaenyra, she wondered if the woman in front of her would be capable of putting her brothers to the sword. The kindness in her eyes made it difficult to fathom, leaving Daenys to ponder whether it was truthful, or just an act.

“I’m upset about Luke hurting Aemond. It was a horrible thing to do,” Daenys blurted out after a moment of silence.

Rhaenyra cast her gaze downward, as if ashamed.

“I know. It was… a confrontation that should have never happened. Both parties made mistakes last night,” she said. It bothered Daenys that Rhaenyra would compare a paternity rumor with losing an eye, but she understood what it would mean for her claim if the realm knew her sons were no true Velaryons. “But you need to make an effort and leave it in the past, or else you’ll spend the rest of your life reliving what happened.”

This betrothal could mean the difference between life and death for this family.

Daenys nodded. “I will try.”

Rhaenyra smiled sadly at her sister, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, her thumb rubbing softly at it.

“This time together will help both of you, you’ll see,” she assured. “It is a great opportunity to get to know each other. You might find you have more in common than you think.”

“Doesn’t he hate me?” Daenys asked. “I haven’t always been kind.”

Rhaenyra smiled at the girl’s question. She knew something Daenys didn’t.

“He doesn’t,” she simply replied.

_______________________________________________

Days turned into weeks after their arrival at Dragonstone—a place Daenys had visited hundreds of times on dragonback, but never with the intention of staying. She was given her own room, near Rhaena’s, as it had been decided that Baela would stay at Driftmark after the tragic death of Ser Laenor, the last living child of Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys.

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding had been a strange affair. The speed with which it had taken place, only a day after Laenor’s death, left Daenys with a feeling of uneasiness, wondering how it was possible to move on so quickly from such a tragedy.

Despite her initial efforts to please and fit in, she found it increasingly difficult to adapt to her new life. Each morning presented a bigger challenge than the last, until Daenys reached the point where she couldn't even leave her bed, sometimes for the entire day. She had completely lost her appetite, and once overheard the maester telling Rhaenyra that she might get sick if she continued this way. She had promised her half-sister that she wasn’t doing it on purpose and that tomorrow she would try again, but every time tomorrow came, Daenys was unable to keep her promise.

At night, she dreamed of her mother’s hands stroking her hair, of Helaena’s warmth next to her when they shared the bed during cold nights, Aemond’s stories that he seemed to never run out of, and even Aegon’s unfunny jokes that always made her roll her eyes.

That night, however, something was stopping Daenys from finding sleep: she could hear Silverwing’s song, calling for her rider to fly with her again. The girl hadn’t visited her dragon in weeks, something unprecedented since they had bonded two years before, which contributed to her feeling guilty and miserable in equal measure.

Unwilling to continue tossing and turning, she decided to finally leave her bed in search of a solution, hoping that the cover of night would spare her from encountering anyone.

The corridors of the Dragonstone castle were dark and sinuous like a dragon’s throat, and the lack of windows in the impenetrable fort made Daenys feel like she was being swallowed as she made her way downstairs to the kitchens. There, she found two kitchen maids: one old and gray, the other younger, with a pointy nose and wondering eyes that pierced hers as soon as she crossed the threshold. Daenys froze like a deer sensing a predator.

“I… Can I have some warm milk? I can’t find sleep,” she requested.

“Of course, Princess, but you shouldn’t come down here; it’s not a place for a girl of your station,” the younger one said, as the older woman poured milk into a pot over the hearth.

“It’s no bother,” she began to say, but was quickly cut off by the older woman.

“We must insist, Your Grace,” she said. “If Princess Rhaenyra finds out you’ve been here…”

“She won’t find out, because I will say nothing of it, and I would assume neither will you,” Daenys stated, the dim light in the room helping hide the pink of her cheeks for speaking so boldly. Taking a step forward, she propped herself on a wooden stool, her girlish legs dangling back and forth.

After sharing a look, the women provided what Daenys had requested: a glass of warm milk with honey that would put her to sleep right away. They watched her as she drank, perhaps wary of the young princess not liking the beverage, and smiled with relief when she thanked them for it.

She was making her way back to her chambers, already drowsy as the warmth of the milk soothed the tightness of her chest, when she heard voices coming from what she knew were Jacaerys’ quarters. The door was ajar and, as she got closer, curiosity getting the best of her, she identified the second voice as Rhaenyra’s.

“—I just thought it would be different,” Jace was saying, distress tinting his voice.

“I know, my love. I did warn you not to get your hopes up too high, imagine how you would feel if this had happened the other way around. I am sure you would also feel quite miserable in King’s Landing without your brothers, or without me.”

Afer a moment of silence in which Daenys feared she had been caught, Jace asked, “Do you think she’ll ever stop hating me?”

“I don’t think she hates you, Jace. She’s just scared, and sad, and confused… but hate is too big of a word.”

“But you heard what Maester Gerardys said. If she continues like this, she might die. And it would be my fault,” he stated. He sounded on the verge of tears, and guilt settled on Daenys like a kick in the gut.

“He did not say such a thing, dear, you’re exaggerating,” his mother refuted, trying to calm him. “What the maester said was that she might get sick, which is true, but I would never allow the situation to get to that point. If she cannot find the strength to get better, I will send her back to King’s Landing.”

Daenys’ heartbeat quickened when she heard that, but Jace’s words didn’t even let a smile form on her face.

“You cannot,” he blurted out immediately. “Please, Mother, you promised. You’ve seen the way they treat her. They either ignore her, or punish her for every single thing her siblings do.”

“I know, my love, but it is not your duty to save her. Not for now, at least…”, the woman said. “Daenys is a tough girl, Jace.”

“But she doesn’t need to be tough here. No one would mistreat her if she would only— if she would only let us—”

“I know, sweet boy,” said Rhaenyra.

Daenys felt a strange surge of defensiveness at the mention of her family, but a little voice inside her head—her rational side, perhaps—told her that, deep down, she knew Jace was right. Despite how hard she tried to make it seem like she did not care when her family mistreated her, she did. She cared deeply and suffered for it, and the fact that Jace seemed so genuinely upset about it was as confusing as it was endearing.

When Jace spoke again, his voice sounded muffled, as if he was now in his mother’s arms. Daenys wondered what it would feel like to be hugged by Rhaenyra.

“She said sorry for Ser Harwin. At Lady Laena’s funeral.”

A beat.

“That was a very kind thing to do,” Rhaenyra said. “She wouldn’t have said it if she hated you, would she?”

“No,” Jace said. “I suppose not.”

_______________________________________________

Daenys saw genuine delight spread all over her handmaiden’s features when she came into her chamber the next morning to find her already up and ready for a much needed bath.

When she entered the dining hall everyone was already there, ready to break their fast. Her cheeks lit up in shades of pink as they welcomed her, the sincerity in their cheerful comments warming Daenys’ heart.

“What an honor it is that you’ve finally deemed us worthy of your company, Princess,” said Daemon, kindly pulling Daenys’ chair for her to sit on. Another might have found the comment as an ill willed one, but Daenys knew that was Daemon’s way of expressing affection while keeping his facade.

“Leave her be, husband,” warned Rhaenyra, her tone relaxed. With a kind smile, she put her hand on her half-sister’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetling.”

Jace smiled at her and, to her own surprise, Daenys smiled back.

The breakfast went by smoothly, and Daenys ate her weight in duck eggs, blood pudding, bread with butter and honey, and the most delicious blackberry cakes she had ever tasted. She even licked her fingers when she finished, and the sight made Luke laugh so hard that the milk he was drinking came out of his nose.

After they all had finished, Daenys excused herself from the table.

“I would like to ride my dragon, if you don’t mind, Princess,” she told Rhaenyra. “I will stay close. Won’t fly further than Massey’s Hook, I promise.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “You don’t need my permission, sweetling.”

Gathering all the bravery she thought she possessed, Daenys asked for something else.

“Can Jace come?”

Rhaenyra raised her brows slightly, clearly surprised at the girl’s sudden change of attitude.

“Mother doesn’t let me ride Vermax that far…” said Jace, embarrassment turning his cheeks a bright red.

After a glance at Daemon, Rhaenyra breathed through her nose.

“Well, perhaps an exception can be made on a day such as today,” she said.

Jace’s face brightened up immediately, and he shot up from his chair to join Daenys. Luke protested as the pair left the hall, whining as he demanded the same exception be made with him as well, but Rhaena managed to convince him that archery training was equally as exciting.

As she watched the children go, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief.

_______________________________________________

Across the bay, in a dimly lit room within the Red Keep, Princess Helaena muttered to herself.

“The tears of a dragon cannot extinguish the flame destined to set the world ablaze.”

_______________________________________________

Aaaaaand we've reached the end of childhood! The next chapter will take place after the 6-year time jump, aka, the kids will all be as old as they are right now in the show, more or less.

I hope this was a good enough introduction to the different dynamics between Daenys and the other characters!

If you liked this, let me know in any way! :)

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject, @hellish-idiot

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #knuckles bruised (like violets)

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nrilliree · 7 months

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I like the contrast of the Green and Black deaths.

Lucerys - was murdered as a messenger who did the queen's will and wanted to return home, and his murder led to the escalation of the war.

Rhaenys - died beacuse of Vhagar, on a dragon's back, like a true Dragon Rider, wounding Aegon and Sunfyre.

Jacaerys - died on the dragon's back as he fought to save his brother and save the Velaryon fleet, and was swallowed by the sea like the true Velaryon.

Daemon - sacrificed his life to murder that bastard Aemond who was burning the kingdom of Vhagar.

Joffrey… Okay, maybe he had good intentions, but Syrax didn't share them ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Addam - had saved King's Landing from Rhaenyra's foes at the cost of his own life.

Rhaenyra - was murdered by Aegon, but died with dignity, with her head held high and cursing the Usurper.

Corlys - died of old age after long service alongside Aegon III.

Most Team Black members died on the dragon's back or with weapons in their hands.

The greens, on the other hand…

Helaena -… I won't talk about Helaena and her children because I don't feel the need to point out or make fun of the children's deaths like some people do. Besides, it's hard to say that Helaena was really Green, she just did what her mother told her

Otto - his head was cut off like the traitor he was.

Criston - was shot without respect like a deer in the hunt and his claims ignored.

Aemond - died at the hand of Daemon, "with terror in his eyes, tearing at his chains", but let him be, although he died together with Vhagar.

Daeron - was most likely killed by a burning tent, or was murdered in a burning tent.

Aegon - poisoned by his own people.

Alicent - was put in chains and imprisoned for the rest of her life.

#house of the dragon #team black #hotd #anti team green #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #pro team black #anti aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #jacerys velaryon #anti criston cole #anti alicent hightower

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jelloholic · 1 month

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Team Black characters at the beach

Rhaenyra:

Stays out of the water, prefers to tan and play with the younger kids in the sand

Goes in a modest 2-piece swimsuit that Daemon argued was too revealing (she slayed)

Daemon:

In the water terrorizing the kids (all of them, not just his own)

Gets angry when his team loses in beach volleyball

Corlys:

Slept through half the day

Cute grandpa that teaches the babies how to swim

Rhaenys:

Proposed the idea of volleyball bc she was bored and seeing Daemon freak out at losing would be funny

Brought a gazillion snacks and drinks (including some sneakily hidden booze)

Jacaerys:

Always moving and being active (volleyball, swimming, indulging Joff by racing him)

He is the default parent supervising all the kids (except Vis and Aeg) bc the adults are relaxing

Baela:

Making weird faces to scare off the men checking her out, then mocking them viciously

Absolutely destroys everyone in volleyball

Lucerys:

Ate most of the snacks himself (he felt very bad about it)

Spent most of the day swimming and got sunburnt bc of it

Rhaena:

Made a collection of sea glass, pretty rocks and shells

Sat with the adults in the shade and talked with them

Joffrey:

Somehow befriended most of the kids from other families

Caught a fish with his hands and scared strangers with it (much to Daemon's amusement)

Baby Aegon:

Cuddled up to his mom most of the day

Insisted on an evening beach bonfire bc he wanted smores (he was indulged)

Baby Viserys:

Made sandcastles all day

Bragged to everyone about his turquoise seashell bathing suit

Addam and Alyn:

Walked along the beach together while talking

Used Corlys's money (with permission) to get milkshakes and souvenirs

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witchofhimring · 9 months

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Loyalty Chapter 10

Synopsis: Ellyn Baratheon is dead and Prince Aemond is plunged into grief. With a newborn son your life forever changes and destiny sets you on a darker path.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

This chapter has mentions of rape and abortions (not inflicted on the reader), so be warned!

A great moan emanated from the forest. Great gusts of wind seemed to hail the birth of your son. Having enough, Lady Mari stormed over to the window and slammed it shut. The infants cries became even louder. Greedily you took in his appearance. He was your son through and through. Your hair, your eyes. In fact you hardly saw anything of Jason Lannister in him. Holding him close your fingers brushed the thin fuzz of hair upon his head. His tiny feet kicked out. "He is strong." You croaked out. With an aching throat you laughed. It was all over. All those months of fear and finally he was born. A son to succeed his father. But more importantly your child was safe. "What will you call him?" Alys Rivers asked. You wanted to name his one of your choosing. Normally it was up to the father. But Jason Lannister was dead and that right fell to him. And by the Gods it was your right. It was you who had borne him. "Owen Lannister." The name had suddenly come to you. Why you were not sure. But perhaps being a parent yourself brought on a burst of feeling towards your own. "Owen Lannister. A good name." Alys Rivers agreed.

The baby would lay with you. Overruling everyone else, you would have your son next to you. He had stopped crying after being fed. Jealously you watched the wet-nurse coo as she fed your son. "Don't you worry My Lady. This boy will grow strong and healthy. We have never failed a babe yet." The pain, in retrospect, had not been as bad as feared. There was still pain but it was all worth it. You watched your son be fed by the fire. Sleepily your eyes closed.

You sleep was not long. A conversation woke you and Lady Dara stood over you. She was breathless and had clearly ran all the way here. "Princess Ellyn has passed." The midwife clutched the babe to her breast and muttered a prayer. There was no such emotion on you face, there would be no show of grief. The woman who had tormented you for the past year was dead, another ghost for Harrenhal. No prayer was uttered from your lips, just as you had not lit a candle for Vaeron and Lucerys. "I see. Give Prince Aemond my condolences." Then you laid down and went to sleep. The covers were drawn up to cover your face. Smiling, you exhaled a great breath and made sure the midwife could not see the jubilation on your face. You did not care if it made you wicked. Ellyn had been a terror to you and been the architect of your misery. You still remembered the day she had made you undress her. All the public humiliations you endured at her hand. Once she had mocked your misery and talked of all the children she would bear Prince Aemond. All that had turned to ashes in her mouth and here you lay with a healthy baby boy while she lay dying. Ellyn had not known the delight of becoming a mother. Nor had she. That was something Ellyn did not have that as of now was out of reach.

To your great surprise Prince Aemond paid you a visit. He was haggard looking. Had Prince Aemond loved Ellyn, as he had never loved you? You did not entertain any notion that he had visited you out of caring. "He looks healthy." Prince Aemond's voice was strained. "He is. And I would have borne you a healthy son." But none of this you said aloud. The thought shamed you. The year had turned you into a bitter woman who thought more of scores than one of compassion. Prince Aemond seemed unsure of what to do. You noticed he bore new scars, one lining his left cheek. Where the rumors true? Had Prince Aemond truly set the Riverlands ablaze? Rumors were bound to arise is such times. Such as the one about King Aegon having his illegitimate children fighting in pits. You were not even sure Kings Landing had fighting pits. "I hope he is." The baby opened his eyes and opened his mouth in a big yawn. Such a little thing should be minuscule, but for you it was a fascination to behold. This beautiful baby boy was the most precious thing to ever exist. At least to you he was, but the same could be said of every mother.

"Where will I be going after this?" With Kings Landing in enemy hands your future there was no clear path. No. It was not just your. Everyone's future was uncertain, and no one was likely to have a happy one. A new fear dwelt within you. Your own mortality had always been a factor you considered. While your possible death had always been a terrifying prospect it was nothing compared to the fear for Owen. If your son died how would you ever survive? This boy....this tiny human not yet a whole week old had your allegiance. From now on you would work for his welfare.

Prince Aemond was still there. Right now you wanted to be left alone with Owen. "I would like to spend time with my son, My Prince." "I-" Prince Aemond cut himself off, and nodded. There was a tenseness in his jaw you could not quite understand. "I will leave you to it." With another nod of his head Prince Aemond was gone. With a weary sigh you rested the baby against your chest. The white blanket had been crafter by Lady Mari. She had sewn lions onto the rim. You appreciated her craft and desired to thank Lady Mari. Maybe later, when you were not so tired. In the mean time you would wander the realm of sleep, where pools of blood and Weirwood trees awaited.

These dreams no longer frightened you like they once did. But you would never get used to the voices that wailed in your ears. And unlike normal dreams you remembered every moment of it. The dawn did not make them fade away into nothing. At first you had not wanted to believe it. Bad dreams like these brought only bad things. It felt like if you were to admit that then those things would happen. To much of this felt so real, waking up to stinging skin. Hearing voices in the trees. Either you were going bad or something otherworldly was happening. Neither was appealing. But what could you do? They would either call you made or take you for a witch. If things stayed as they were, only dreams and whispers, you might be alright. But curiosity was a powerful thing. As was fear. If some malevolent spirit was after you then why? A curse of some sort? But who would do such a thing? Ellyn might have, had she possessed such power. Though she may not be the only contender. There were stories of Gods who punished arrogant mortals. In their anger the Gods may have sought to punish you. The thought only angered you. What had they done to inspire devotion within you? They, immortal beings, dwelt high above while humanity suffered. Bitter, you cursed them in your heart.

You had perused most of Harrenhal's books by this point. Despite the size of the library only a few were actually fit for reading. They were either damaged due to age or poor keep and the rest were written in languages you were not privy to. A few weeks after your childbirth you were once more free to look amongst the shelves. Beforehand the task had fallen to Alys Rivers. After being kept in your room for so long going out was a joy. It was only too bad the grounds were closed off. It had been months since you had been able to be beyond the castle walls.

Baby Owen rested on your lap as the last birds took flight. Your sons birth had been sent out and Casterly Rock had replied. They would send a retinue to take your son to his rightful place. The only thing that worried you was that there was only mention of his departure, not yours. Perhaps it was only a slip up. You had sent word to Lady Joan about the next course of action. Her reply was not what you hoped. Only that her grandchild was doing well and that finally your deceased husbands brother had a son. Apparently Lady Joan wished to betroth her granddaughter to the newborn Lannister babe. "We must grow strong." Was what she wrote. Though your anxiety was great, so long as Prince Aemond lived you would be safe.

"Which book today?" Alys Rivers took a seat beside you. Being tired of your room, you took a small circular room in the tower that had been utterly abandoned. Pillows had been propped up on the window stood. The view was spectacular, you could see the run rise far in the distance. This tallest part of Harrenhal allowed you to see far and wide. Only on Vaehgar had you such a view. Owen slept in his cradle at your feet. His hair had darkened slightly and as each day went by they said "oh, he looks just like his sire!" you could have scoffed. Owen Lannister was clearly all you. Though you never said any of these words out loud.

Alys Rivers walked over to the babe and crouched down. One long finger pressed against his wrist. "He is a beautiful babe." You smiled. Of course he was. Alys Rivers looked at you, then back at the babe, then to you once more. "They told me he looks like Ser Jason Lannister. Although I think he takes after you." The comment brought a mixture of pride, surprise and affection for Alys. It could have risen out of pure loneliness, but it felt nice to have Alys around.

For a moment you watched Alys coo over the baby. Owen opened his eyes and gazed up at the woman above him. Suddenly a tiny hand came out and seized one of her black locks. "Oh, oh my goodness! I am sorry!" Alys laughed as you rushed forward to pry the babies hand away. Because Owen was so little his strength was next to nothing. "Babies will do that. Once this little boy was in my charge, Henry was his name, and by the time he was done with me it was a miracle I had any hair left!" Your own hair was lose and it occurred to you that such as style may be unsuitable in the future. There was a sad look of Alys's face. Once more you wondered about the possible children she lost. Then you considered "what if the children lost were not solely hers?". If Alys had been the castle wet nurse then some of the children would have not been hers by blood. They said Prince Aemond slaughtered every person that bore the name Strong. Had one of those killed at one point been cared for by Alys? Such a thought was unpleasant and you put it away. There was no proof of that, no need to cause yourself unnecessary grief.

Alys finally looked at the book you were reading. It was titled "Gods of Westeros", a book that was controversial in the eyes of the sept. Even you, whos faith wavered, felt slightly uneasy dabbling in what one could call borderline heresy. Alys stood and and sat next to you. "Which Gods?" "The Seven, of course, the Old Gods kept by the First Men, Mother Rhoyne, The Drowned God, R'hllor God of Light. That is all I have come across." You turned the page. "The Great Other" was the next chapter. Familiar drawings of White Walkers crept out at you. "Have you hears of The Great Other?" You shook your head. Alys turned the page. "The God of R'hllor, worshiped by the Red Priestesses. They say the night is dark and full of terrors. The God R'hllor will burn away the darkness. The Greater Other, is his opposite, a God of cold and darkness." "Who worships these Gods?" "Few in Westeros, mostly in Essos." "What of The Great Other?" Alys shuddered. "Only The Others would serve such a God." You wanted to ask which Gods Alys served. The question seemed rude and invasive so you abstained. The idea of Alys being a heathen unsettled you. Though were you in a position to judge?

That night dead corpses haunted your dreams. And a rustling that sounded like the wings of death came ever closer.

You watched them lay Ellyn into the ground. With Storms End blocked off escorting the princesses corpse there was not an option. So she would have to make due with Harrenhal. A kinder woman might have felt sad. As Ellyn was lowered into the ground and the septon spoke all you could think of were her taunts and jeers. You wondered if she knew you gave birth to a boy. A dark part of you fancied that it was despair over your sons birth that carried Ellyn off, spitting bile as bitter as her words. Your eyes went to Prince Aemond, standing over where his wife lay. There was a coldness to him. A rage in his eyes. Beside him stood Lady Maris Baratheon, clad in black and standing suspiciously near Prince Aemond. One of her hands rested on his arm. It would not surprise anyone is Prince Aemond married another of house Baratheon to keep their allegiance. Would it be Lady Maris with a sharp wit or her sisters? They said that Lady Floris Baratheon was very beautiful, having only just celebrated her nineteenth name day. Lady Cassandra was said to be shy, but beautiful as well. What had attracted Prince Aemond to Ellyn? None had made mention of her beauty and you only knew of Ellyn's spite. Perhaps she could be charming, just not to you.

When Owen started to fuss it gave you an excuse to leave. A nursemaid and Alys followed you inside. The nursemaid fed Owen and you dismissed her. It felt good to walk about the castle again. "What happened in this room?" It was on one of the upper levels. Do not ask which one, counting them was hard. This one was larger than the rest and must have been used to house someone important. "Ser Lyonel and Harwin's." A sudden chill ran through you. Lord Lyonel and his won had been burned alive in these rooms. Whether by vengeful ghosts or an enemy you could not say. "Well, let us get going." As if there was a hurry to go anywhere. The next room you ventured into had once been used as a sort of office. Prince Aemond had briefly used it but feeling uneasy in those rooms chose different ones. There was still a desk and chair, forlornly forgotten in this wing of the castle. Banners hung on the walls. "Where these houses that ruled Harrenhal?" "Yes." Now that was not necessarily true. House Hoare who ruled before Aegon's Conquest was unceremoniously left out. House Qoherys, with its x and four skulls. a bad omen of things to come as that house met a bad end. The Harroway family met an even more horrid end. Maegor the Cruel had slaughtered all who bore the name Harroway when his wife Queen Alys bore a malformed creature. The black tower in flames, an imposing sigil for any house. The next house also had towers, though less impressive. The Towers did not last long, even less when you consider the fact that Rhaena Targaryen took over its keep for a time. Poor Princess Rhaena, who might have been Queen ended her days in these halls. As sad fate for anyone, especially for one who was called Queen of the West. Lastly were the Strongs with their symbol of the Tridents three forks. How long Housed Strong would last was anyone's guess. Larys Strong had no heirs, and he was the last of them. Unless one were to count Jeoffrey Velayron who was truly Harwin's son. But his parentage could never be acknowledged, he was a bastard anyway.

" I remember Ser Lyonel working in this room. My job, when I was not doing my duty to the children was to serve the Lord." "Were there very many children in Harrenhal?" Somehow the idea of children in Harrenhal seemed preposterous. Baby Owen fussed. Harrenhal wiped out those who lived there, their lines obliterated. "We do not rule Harrenhal." You told yourself. "More than you would think. There were never many noble children racing around. But there were plenty of servants with children. Every morning I would wake up and run to this room and that. I remember most of the children. Sweet things they were. I remember a little girl called Dania, tiny little girl, with a beautiful smile and blue eyes. Though not all of them were small. Harwin Strong-" Both of you did a double take. Had you misheard? "A different one." Alys quickly said. You laughed to dispel the tension but it did not wholly go away. The room was quickly abandoned.

Whispers were coming from the Red Keep that Rhaenyra's base was quacking. Kings Landing was starving and the Black Queen, as they had taken to calling her, had holed herself up. There were even rumors of a falling out with her husband. How much of this was true or not was unclear. But Otto Hightower always said the man was perverse. There was hope Kings Landing would fall soon. For months Rhaenyra had held out but the situation was not looking good. Jaecerion had been ruling Casterly Rock in the absence of your son. It eased your mind, as some might want to displace Owen. The betrothal of Lady Jenna Florent to your newborn nephew named Lord Jason after his uncle went ahead. They were young but when they turned fourteen the couple would marry and live as husband and wife. At first it was alarming when betrothal letter came in for your son. Lord Hobert had even offered the hand of his granddaughter. Quite a splendid match, Lannister and Hightower. It might have even been the one you chose. Only two days previously a letter smuggled in was sent and penned on the request of King Aegon offering the hand of his daughter Princess Jaehaera The thought thrilled you, a Targaryen Princess for your son! "What do you say to that my love?" Your son snoozed away, completely unaware of the magnificent future his mother had planned. When you went to bed that night there were dragons, crowns, and children with silver hair.

"Another flight?" Lady Dara and yourself watched Vhaegar land. Prince Aemond had returned from this newest expedition. Everyone wore grim expressions. A smoky substance emanated from the old dragons mouth, a telltale sign that Vhaegar had been setting something on fire. But what had she been burning? Whispers spoke of families up in smoke. Lives snuffed out before they had truly begun. Prince Aemond himself was not unhurt either. He bore wounds, though none too serious. The days were Prince Aemond would come to you to patch up his cuts and bruises were long gone. These days he would have a maester to wait upon him. "It is getting cold, come." Lady Dara followed you inside. You made sure Owen was sound asleep, which he still way. He was looking cuter by the day, more plum with such pretty eyes. The warmth against your chest brought on a fierce maternal love for this baby.

Just ahead of you strode Lady Maris with her own ladies. Realizing both of you were about to cross paths you politely nodded. She returned the gesture but there was something calculated in her look. You would have expected anger, after all, she was Ellyn's sister. But surprisingly there was none of that. Her ladies had been discrete. Whether that boded good or ill you did not know. When you got back to the bedroom a wet nurse quickly took Owen off your hands to feed him. Lady Mari was sewing by the fire and once more Lady Clarisssa was absent. "Where is Lady Clarissa?" It was not that you had a great need for her at the moment. Her frequent disappearances had made you feel uneasy. Lady Dara and Lady Mari shared looks. Whatever had fallen upon Lady Clarissa they did not want to divulge. Quickly you dismissed the nursemaid, taking back you son. Owen, often sleepy after feeding was quick to leave the waking world.

"What has happened to Lady Clarissa?" It was your duty as their mistress to be informed of ladies wellbeing's. Lady Dara's hands clasped together, locking like iron. A look of apprehension crossed Lady Mari's face. They looked to one another until it became to much for Lady Mari. "We were on your way to Harrenhal when brigands attacked out carriage. And they stopped us and eventually knights came. But by then..." The words were too horrible to speak and she did not need to. A hand to your mouth, the information settled into horror. Poor Lady Clarissa. And you had no idea. "Is....is there anything I can do to help?" It felt silly to ask. What could you possibly do to comfort a woman who had undergone such an ordeal? When Lady Mari took a deep breath you heart dropped. There was more to come. "Lady Clarissa is with child, we think." You gasped. It was one thing to be raped. To be pregnant made it so much worse. While a woman might conceal the fact she lay with a man outside the confines of marriage, to be pregnant changed things. No one would care that it was rape and not of Lady Clarissa's will. They would judge her just the same. "How far along?" "About three months." Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes. "Someone will need to retrieve moontea from the maester." Lady Dara suddenly shook her head. "He will know. And if he does then it is more likely Lady Clarissa will be shamed." You had to think. So long as this whole issue could be kept private then Lady Clarissa could still be saved. As you were not the lady of this castle the maester was not required to obey. That fell to Prince Aemond. "I will go ask the Prince." "Don't!" The pitch of Lady Maris voice made you and Lady Dara jump. "The prince may not help, if he thinks the act is of her own volition." But there was no other choice. It was that or Lady Clarissa's downfall.

"You are quite sure this was rape?" You scowled at Prince Aemond. "Lady Clarissa is a woman of good character. I do not see why she would sully her name is such a way." You were so worried he would say no. Then, if that were the case, Lady Clarissa's situation would be worse. Perhaps Prince Aemond would kick her out. That would absolutely not happen, Lady Clarissa would not be another Elinor. Prince Aemond got up to his feet. You noticed his left hand was bandaged. When he set it down Prince Aemond hissed in pain. "Have you seen a maester for that?" You inquired. "Yes. Now let us go so the maester. And send a servant to fetch Lady Clarissa.

The maester's rooms were in another tower, inconveniently. Maester Whells was younger than most maesters with thinning brown hair. "So you say the lady is around three months?" "Yes. About that time." You replied. The maester pulled out a role of parchment and wrote something down. The door opened and a pale faced Lady Clarissa stumbled in. "Clarissa, it is quite alright. We will help you." You gently took Lady Clarissa by her elbows and she was steered to the nearest chair. The maester scrutinized Lady Clarissa with steely eyes. "You say this was the result of an attack?" There was a not of incredulity in his voice. "You speak as if this is an anomaly. Tell me Maester Whells, tell us how we women can avoid rape during war, for we would all like to hear it." Under the harshness of his gaze the maester had the good grace to look embarrassed. Lady Clarissa's hand trembled in yours. "I..well..I will need to examine that Lady. Prince Aemond and Lady Y/n, if you could leave the room." Lady Clarissa vigorously shook her head. "My Lady it is highly irregular for-" But you interrupted him. "I will stay." Prince Aemond was quick to leave. Lady Clarissa was undressed and made to wear a thin gown. She lay there on the bed, spread legged and frightened. When Maester Whells pulled out a familiar looking device you said "why is that being brought out?!" "I must check to see how far along she is." As Maester Whells inserted it into Lady Clarissa she cried out and squeezed your hand. Those ten seconds seemed to last forever until Lady Clarissa was finally allowed to sit up. Lastly, she peed in a bowl and was told to redress. By the end she was no longer shaking but look so tired. You sent her to bed and ordered food to be brought. The atmosphere you returned to was tense. Although the wet nurses had no idea they felt the anxiety. Lady Dara, Lady Mari and yourself were quiet all evening. Only Owen made any noise. Dinner was little better. Prince Aemond sat at the head overlooking a small court. The ladies of Lady Maris's retinue, and those who once belonged to Ellyn, quietly stole looks. They would look your way, and then pretend not to. You prayed none of them found out.

It was a blessed relief to dive under the covers. Lady Dara would be your companion tonight. Sleep came in its usual form, with bloody dreams and voices. You were pulled here and there, with no will of your own. The howling grew greater and soon it overwhelmed you. It plunged you into a pool of blood, unable to get out. But somehow in the midst of all that blood there were little butterfly wings.

Two days later the matter of Lady Clarissa's pregnancy had to be addressed. A closely guarded secret, Maester Whells, Prince Aemond, Lady Clarissa and yourself were the only ones privy to this meeting. "At three months this is the latest I would encourage one to rid themselves of the baby. But it should be quick and not too painful in this case My Lady." "Lady Clarissa?" Lady Clarissa was sitting next to you, still as a statue. Even after two days of rest she still looked haggard. "I need...I need time." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "My Lady, I am afraid time is something we have little of. How I administer the moon tea depends on how far along the babe is. Frankly, I am not comfortable inducing a labor past the fourth month." Lady Clarissa looked like to faint. You placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from swaying. "Think about it. We will continue this in the morning." Maester Whells looked ready to protest. "Please, she needs it." You were worried because Lady Clarissa was sporting a green hue. The pallor one took before throwing up. Helping her from the chair, you lead Lady Clarissa outside. Prince Aemond and Maester Whells followed, speaking all the time. As the group left you though there was the patter of fear. Shaking your head, you convinced yourself it was an affliction of the imagination.

That assumption was a grave mistake on your part. Whispers were racing around the hall, ones that made your heart stop cold. It was on the way down to breaking your fast that the whole day would be spoiled. Only spoiled was not strong enough for the absolute heartbreak that would render itself upon Harrenhal. Two women were gossiping on the staircase. Paying no mind you continued down until a name cropped up. "Lady Clarissa-well she is no true lady from what I hear-" It was then that both women realized who was next to them. "What did you say? Speak up!" They flinched but you did not care. You went right up to one of them, a tall black haired woman. "What is your name?" She did not want to tell, but could not dismiss a direct order from you. "Lady Ellois Dondarrion." "Lady Dondarrion. And why is Lady Dondarrion gossiping about Lady Clarissa?" Lady Dondarrion was biting her lip. "They are all talking about it, not just me. Lady Clarissa is with child." Internally you cursed. Who had told?! "Where did you hear this information?" "It was not me who overheard. I am not sure who, only that Lady Swann told me this morning." "Which Lady Swann?" "Lady Bella Swann, My Lady." You were livid. The impulse to throw Lady Dondarrion and her companion down the stairs was strong. Instead of that, you departed, leaving both women frozen. You did not know who Lady Bella Swann was but she would feel your wrath.

After breaking your fast Lady Swann was summoned. You chose the nearest drawing-room as an audience space. Sitting in a chair and flanked by ladies you hoped to intimidate this Lady Bella Swann. The woman entered, only one could say she was more a child than woman. A tiny thing, she did not even look fully developed. "How old are you, Lady Swann?" She flushed and bobbed a quick curtsy. "Ten and three, My Lady." Suddenly the idea of intimidating this lady made you uncomfortable. "Take a seat. Lady Dara could you?" Nervously Lady Swann sat down. "I hear that a rumor has been going around about one of my ladies. Lady Ellois Dondarrion says that it was you who told her." Lady Swann looked ready to cry. "Who do you serve?" "I grew up serving Lady Joan Tyrell, I served the Princess Ellyn, now I serve Lady Maris Baratheon." You leaned back in the chair. Was this a plot by Lady Maris to unseat you? For a lady's women were extensions of herself and could be judged for their misdemeanors. "Where did you overhear this information?" "I overheard the Prince and Maester Whells, My Lady." So it was her who started this whole affair. Suddenly any sympathy you held for Lady Dondarrion evaporated. "Do you realize what you have done? A lady's reputation is torn because of you." Tears welled up in Lady Dondarrion's brown eyes. "Plesase....I'm sorry I did not mean to..." You did not care to read the rest. This little idiot might be young, but younger girls had more sense. The idea that this may not be a simple slip but a plot did occur. If Lady Maris wished to settle a score then getting rid of Clarissa was a good way to do it. Rising to your feet, all the ladies curtsied. "Lady Dondarrion, this information will be brought to the Prince. Pray he takes it to mind to be merciful. The woman stumbled out. "My Lady, it may not-" Lady Mari put up a hand. "I will not spare sympathy for those who set out to ruin the lives of others."

"Everyone knows." You sat opposite from Alys who was rocking you son. Owen had fallen asleep, the fire glinting on his hair. Today Alys bore ill new. It was none too surprising but dreadful nevertheless that Clarissa's condition had spread. Clarissa had refused to leave her room by now. You spent time trying to coax her out. Eventually you sent in a septa who might ease her pain. It being late, you headed to your room and spent the evening with Alys. A howling wind was raging inside, the shutters shuddered in its place. You would look at Owen, worried that he may be disturbed. But for today you were safely tucked away.

"Could I get you something to read?" Alys put Owen back into the crib. "No. Let us just sit." Worried over Clarissa and the war, you could not bully your brain into concentration. The maid opened the door carrying a steaming bowl of meat and bread. "Ah, dinner. Put it over there I will be out in a moment." You waiting until the maid was gone. The floor was cold and you considered requesting a carpet. You and Alys took places by the fire. Extra food had been supplied for Alys. By now most knew she spent the evenings with you. It was strange, but her presence made you feel less lonely. The past year had been so isolating that companionship was desperately craved. Even from someone like Alys, a commoner and bastard. Yet even so, if the past year had not happened you might still have sought out her company. She was the most engaging person you had ever met. "Poor Clarissa." You forlornly closed bleary eyes. "A sad thing. Unfortunately too common. Even before the war, so many women would arrive pregnant or child in arms. And yet everyone acts scandalized despite the frequency." "But Clarissa's prospects are ruined. There is no way she can just have this child and move on? Clarissa's family will likely abandon her." "They won't help her? But they are a great family. Surely they could lend a hand." "Unfortunately, Alys, being a great family means they are that more ruthless. Even to their own kin." Alys pondered your words and gazed into the fire.

"It is a strange thought." Alys's eyes looked bright in the light, her paleness illuminated. Like two great emeralds placed against a smooth opal. "Men can father a hundred bastards and none blink an eye. But a girl gets pregnant through...well you know, and is suddenly a pariah. You know I have always felt sorry for Rhaenyra." Shocked, any sleepiness was banished. "Rhaenyra Targaryen? What, the Black Queen?!" The last part you spat out. "But have you never thought about it?" Alys was still not looking at you, her eyes still on the fire. Perhaps her thoughts were a thousand miles from here, so engrossed that she was not aware of the surroundings. "Thought about what?" You looked towards the door. This was not a conversation you wanted anyone to overhear. After what happened with Clarissa one could never be too careful. Getting up, you wanted to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty. "Does the King not have bastards?" Alys said as you sat down. What she said was true. Everyone knew King Aegon had silver-haired bastards all over Kings Landing. "The King has numerous bastards while Rhaenyra has only three. And at least she cares for hers. Is it not odd that women are punished for what men take as their due."

You had never thought about it like that. The situations were familiar in a sense. "Rhaenyra chose to sleep outside the confines of marriage. Cassandra was raped." Alys made a nod of acknowledgment. "But if she were not? Would she deserve to be harassed and abandoned by her families." You could not bring yourself to say yes. It was the way of the world. If one had asked you if a woman should be shunned for such foolish actions a year ago you might have said yes. But now the notion felt....icky. It was true that while men such as King Aegon and Jason Lannister fathered scores of bastards a woman could be ruined by just one. You thoughts went to Lady Redwyne. Was she shunned by her family to? You had never thought to ask. Did they whisper about her in the halls as they did Clarissa? While you had never been pregnant through an affair there were those who scorned you. Thinking you were Prince Aemond's mistress some had shunned you. Although your name had been cleared and most scored Ellyn for the rumors you would never forget. Your friends from Kings Landing had hardly sent any letters at all.

"That is true, and I suppose it is unfair. But she is trying to pass off a baby that is not her husbands. And the next heir must be legitimate." "I suppose your point has merit. This society is based upon legitimacy." Alys looked like she wanted to say more but judged it unwise. Owen saved you from the awkward tension by getting fussy. His wails increased in pitch and you quickly scooped him up. "Shall I get the wet nurse?" You shook your head. "Just give me time alone with him." Long after Alys left, her words remained.

"Has she eaten today?" Lady Mari and yourself stood outside Clarissa's door. Clarissa lay on her bed, pale and death with tangled blonde locks. Two weeks and her behavior had hardly changed. Maester Whells was becoming impatient and wanted her to decide. "She may lose the baby and be spared making a decision." Lady Mari's knuckles were red with rubbing. She had been up all night on vigil for Clarissa. "And has she eaten?" "A little bread. But I doubt it shall account for much." Both of you looked in on the sleeping woman. "Let us get her something appetizing and send for a maester. And you looked tire Lady Mari. Rest for a bit." Lady Mari nodded and went in the direction of her room. You on the other hand went to find a maid. Afterwards you went to the maester and told him to check on Clarissa.

A sudden wave of exhaustion came over you. Clarissa's state made been an all consuming worry. It did not help that Harrenhal's very being put the bravest of souls on edge. You pushed the door open to find an apprehensive wet-nurse and Prince Aemond holding your son. You froze feeling a mixture of alarm and fear. Why Prince Aemond holding your son brought about fear you did not know. Just that the sight of your son in his arms disconcerting. Prince Aemond seemed to sense your feeling for he immediately dispensed Owen into your arms. "Hello lovely." You smiled down at Owen. His little eyes opened and registered you. A happy coo left his mouth and you trace Owen's brow. He had grown strong in a past month. The wet-nurse said he fed well and would grow into a fine strong man. "He looks like you." Prince Aemond commented. You would have thought it mere flatter if not for the fact it was very true. There was hardly any Jason Lannister in his son's face. "I know." You cradled the baby close. "You named him after your father. I remember as children you promised to name a boy after him." A long time ago, practically centuries ago (at least for you) you and Prince Aemond had talked about children. In those dreams you imagined the children with platinum hair. But such fantasies were of no use now. "Leave us." Prince Aemond ordered the wet-nurse. It was not just Prince Aemond, the baby, and you.

"Y/n. Daemon Targaryen will be upon Harrenhal soon." "So I suppose it will be time to leave soon." "Yes." "To Casterly Rock?" Prince Aemond shook his head. "No. Highgarden." You had not seen Highgarden in years. The memories were blurry and so far away. You remembered certain smells, noises and how it felt to wander through those great gardens. "Why not Casterly Rock?" "It is not safe there Y/n. The Ironborn will likely attack again and brigands travel the roads. Rhaenyra is still calling for your head and Casterly Rock is in little position to defend dragons due to the conflict." "I thought the Tyrells were neutral in this war." "Yes, well, you will be smuggled in and hidden." The baby snorted through his little nose. A Lannister in Highgarden. The Kings of the Reach and Lannisters of Casterly Rock once fought together against House Targaryen. They had burned for it. Perhaps the Tyrell's would not hold Owen being a Lannister against him. If life had gone differently you would have been Lady Tyrell and Highgarden would have been home. "When is this supposed to happen?" "When they arrive. During war there is no certainty of when." "Very well. I shall inform my ladies." You turned to leave but Prince Aemond called out. "Yes, My Prince?" He seemed to be struggling for the right words. Prince Aemond's jaw was tense making the gaunt features of his face more prominent. You noticed the dark shapes under his eye. The thin leather on his body did not hide the exhausted bearing of its keeper.

Waiting for him to speak, you focused on the babe. "Can we sit? My legs are tired. Childbirth had taken a toll on your body. Moving about was no longer an unconscious effort. You only hoped that your body would resolve itself soon. Placing the babe in a crib beside the chair you sat down. Prince Aemond's leather creaked as he did the same. "We have not talked in a while." Prince Aemond was not looking at you, but at thin boney hands. Once these hands were pale with a tinge of pink and callouses. These days they were akin to bones. "Are you well?" Much to your displeasure there was genuine concern there. Maybe not what it once was but still there. You were not entirely sure what to think about that. One one hand there was displeasure at this weakness. On the other to lose every part of yourself would be a great sadness. "The war has been hard on us all." Was his unsatisfactory reply. A few more minutes of silence passed before Prince Aemond continued. "Your....friendship has waned." Was he blaming you for this?! "I am not sure waned is the word I would use. Perhaps completely obsolete is the word." You hoped you came off as cold rather than sulky. "I am not blaming you. I just feel this is a matter of importance." You gave a derisive snort that on any other occasion would have been embracing. Decorum was the furthest thing on your mind. And could anyone blame you? After years of friendship Prince Aemond had thrown you to the side. It had been so easy for him, a constant torment for you. "Why do you suddenly care?" Prince Aemond's face was still obscured. "I always have." Your hand twitched in irritation. "I doubt it." "I never meant to hurt you." "Much good that has done me." "Y/n please." But there was no pity in you. No matter how sad he looked you would not give way.

"Do you have any idea what it was like for me!? The constant humiliation I suffered while you continued on. Both of us were under suspicion yet only I suffered its affects. I have been by your side through everything. All those years. But you threw me to the wolves and abandoned me! As if I were nothing! So do not think for a second that any words will fix anything." You felt so light yet so heavy at that moment. These were words you had kept in for a year. To get it out was such a relief. But you were not done yet. "And your wife! Did you hear the things she did? All the rumors she spread and her constant torment. Did you know she had be undress her on your wedding night? Well, I suppose a woman you just met is more important than a friend of many years." The last part you spat out like a curse. Prince Aemond was still staring at his hands, still not looking up.

"Y/n, I am sorry-" You did not want to hear it. You would not hear it! Did Prince Aemond think an apology would fix anything? "Please leave." Prince Aemond finally lifted his head. To your alarm you saw tears in his eyes. There were not flowing like a waterfall but his eyes were bright. He looked to be in physical pain. Never before had you seen Prince Aemond tremble, but here he was. You reached for a bowl of warm water and a towel. Handing it to Prince Aemond you sat back down. Prince Aemond took off his eyepatch and held the towel to his eye. "I apologize if my words have cause you pain." It felt churlish not to say so. No matter how angry you were his pain still brought sympathy. "I think a maester may be of better use than I." The anger was gone. You hated to admit it but there was guilt. Whether it was warranted or not remained unclear. Your thoughts about Prince Aemond had been all over the place. You needed time alone, away from Prince Aemond. Perhaps you would never be able to face him again.

Prince Aemond left. Whatever might have happened one could not say. Not this time at least.

Notes:

Ladies and Gentlemen (are there any gentlemen is the crowd?), part one of this story is near completion. Just a few more chapters (about 3-4) and then the shitshow known as part 2 begins. You will notice that the reader drops "Rivers" when referring to Alys as a way of showing their deepening bond. I promise that Alys's motivations will be revealed in time, but that will have to wait. In the last chapter a few people asked if Aemond was in love with reader. The answer is no (thought this may change), at least not in a romantic way. Reader was his first friend and constant companion. He will always carry something for her regardless of time. When the reader referred to Aemond as a kinslayer in the last chapter it hurt because out of everyone, to hear it from Y/n was too much. We will also be getting an Aemond pov soon.

Also I made a mistake when it came to Y/n's family tree. I named her cousins wife Lady Joan when originally I named her Jenna. I will be going to change all the Joan's to Jenna's so I have that to look forward to. Also I named Laura Reed as a mother to readers father Owen Tyrell. Laura Reed is actually the mother of her mother. Bit of a whoops because Laura Reed being the mother to Amelia Tarley is important for this story.

About the magic. I had a bit of difficulty when it came to introducing magic as a plot device for this book because I was more focused on reader's relationships. But keep in mind that the magic aspect is very important to this book.

I honestly can't believe we have gotten this far into the book and I want to thank everyone who had read, liked and commented on my story!

Happy New Year!

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sunderwight · 3 months

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Compelled by the knowledge of how little Alicent's kids actually know about dragon riding, due to not being taught anything by actual dragon riders.

Like, I figure the servants who look after the dragonpit are quite knowledgeable and have imparted all possible training they can to Viserys' younger kids. But the fact remains that none of those people have actually ridden or bonded with a dragon themselves, and their knowledge of what it entails is going to be steeped in the politics of what the Targaryens want outsiders to know.

Which is almost definitely not going to include the limitations like "yeah actually control is an illusion" and vital tidbits along those lines.

So despite the Greens having four dragon riders, it's not really surprising that they're hinging everything on Aemond and Vhagar. Vhagar is old and experienced enough that she just automatically does cool combat shit when put into the right context for it. We see this work against Aemond when he tries to terrorize Lucerys and of course Vhagar just straight up kills the target, and I imagine we're going to see this also work for/against Aemond as soon as he goes into battle, too, with Vhagar going all scorched earth on the targets. I doubt anyone on the Greens' side actually knows how little control Aemond has over his dragon. They probably all think their own personal difficulties in getting their dragons to do what they want are like, individual character flaws that no one else is experiencing.

#hotd #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon season 2 spoilers #hotd s2 spoilers #house of the dragon spoilers

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elsnorris19 · 3 months

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Chapter One.

Season 1, Episode 6

"Are you not going to choose a dragon egg for the babe?"

Saenara turned around and faced her twin brother as he stood with his arms crossed, his forehead creased in displease.

The young princess shook her head in response, and looked back down at the book she had been reading for the past hour — or tried to at least. She hadn't wanted to walk into one of her brothers while their mother was in labor, as she would come across as indifferent and uncaring. Not that that was true.

Saenara was scared, more than she'd like to be. She just didn't want to show it.

She hadn't experienced her mother going into labor when Luke was born, she couldn't even remember it since both her and Jace were too young to even comprehend what was happening. But now that she was older, and understood more than she intended to, the only emotion she felt was terror. She had overheard the Septa's stories about women in labor, even the one about her late grandmother, Queen Aemma.

Now that her own mother, her sweet mother, was in labor, Saenara was scared she'd lose her just as Rhaenyra had lost her own mother.

It was true what they said, that women's battlefield was the bed they would give birth on. If that was truly the case, then Saenara wouldn't wish to have children if it meant losing her life. The only way she intended to do that, was on a battlefield.

Preferably when she's older.

“Luke can do it,” she muttered.

"Do you even care?"

With a sigh, Saenara lifted her head once again and looked at the scenery in front of her instead of her brothers. Nature usually calmed her senses, but this time it aggravated her worried thoughts.

"Nara."

"What if she doesn't make it?" she finally blurted out.

Jacaerys' face softened, but Saenara swore she saw his eyes roll back in annoyance as well. The girl looked down at her hands, fearing judgment for what she had said, but neither Jace nor Luke said anything.

"Mother is strong," Jace told her reassuringly.

"I know," Saenara told him, "but what if her strength isn't enough for what she's going through?"

"Put your worries aside and come with us, we'll let you choose the dragon egg if you want," Lucerys reassured her this time, crouching beside her and putting a hand on her shoulder. Even if Jace had told him that he would be the one to pick the egg, Luke would let his older sister do it if it meant making her happy.

Saenara smiled at her brother, holding his hand for a moment before closing her book.

"Aren't you both worried as well?"

Jace and Luke exchanged a glance before Jace spoke for both of them.

"We are, but... we don't really know what's happening."

In truth, the two boys knew their mother held a baby in her belly, but none of them knew what women had to go through to get it out. They thought that the process came and went quickly without fuss, so they hadn't thought much about it.

No one had ever explained to the two young princes how babies were born — or even made — so their ignorance wasn't entirely their fault.

But now as they saw how their sister was sharing her deep worries about it, they grew to be worried as well, but they didn't want to admit it.

Saenara gathered her dress and stood up from the grassy field.

"You'll know soon enough, when you're older perhaps," she said softly as she began walking, her brothers following.

"You're the same age as Jace, and you still know much more than him. How's that possible?" Luke asked her.

"I'm a princess. No matter my age, I'm supposed to know these things," she explained. "Even if I'd rather not."

"Why didn't you stay with mother if you're so worried?" Jace asked, keeping pace with his siblings.

"They wouldn't let me, since I'm too young to witness such a...gruesome scene apparently," she huffed with a bitter tone. Saenara didn't care if there was too much blood; she had wanted to stay by her mother's side.

"Gruesome?" Luke repeated her words wide eyed.

She shrugged. "That's the word they used."

"What about mother?" He wondered.

"Mother was in too much pain to even notice I was in the room. I can't blame her."

Jace wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. "Let's focus on the egg then. It will be a good distraction and something joyful to look forward to."

Saenara's cheeks lifted in a smile. No matter how dire things seemed, she could always count on her brothers to cheer her up.

Unbeknownst to them, a certain silver-haired boy had been watching the young princess from his chambers as she read. As soon as Jacaerys and Lucerys came into view, he seemed to have come to his senses, suddenly realizing he had been standing by the window for the past hour.

A frown appeared on his face as he watched them walk away hand in hand like a bunch of carefree children.

Aemond Targaryen despised the Velaryon siblings, not because of any wrong they had done him — no, Rhaenyra's children were known for their sweetness, kindness, and impeccable manners, qualities even Aemond could not deny sometimes.

His hatred stemmed from their blood. They weren't true Velaryons, and anyone who believed otherwise was either a fool or blind. They were the Princess's children, and no one dared to speak the truth aloud.

He couldn't fathom why his father, King Viserys, adored Rhaenyra's children more than his own. That was the reason for Aemond's hatred. They were more loved than he and his siblings ever were or could hope to be.

They were not true Velaryons; they were Strongs, with their curly brown hair and brown eyes. Yet, he couldn't deny the cold truth.

They still had dragon blood coursing through their veins.

"You're not going to do much if you only stare at them from afar."

Aemond's eyes widened in realization that he was caught, not that he cared much for it. He turned around and spotted his older brother Aegon, standing at the entrance to his chambers.

"I wasn't staring."

Aegon scoffed and rolled his eyes, striding over to Aemond's bed and throwing himself onto it.

"Of course you weren't. Why would you?" he said with a smirk.

"Don't you have your own bed to lay on?" Aemond snapped.

Aegon scratched his head, pretending to ponder. "No, I much prefer bothering you." He noticed Aemond's clenched jaw and distant gaze, letting out a short laugh as he sat up. "Our dear sister is in labor, I hear."

Aemond turned sharply, eyebrows raised in surprise. He hadn't ventured outside his chambers that day and the news caught him off guard.

"How much do you bet Rhaenyra will give birth to another bastard?"

Aemond's eyes darted to the door and back to Aegon in a warning manner, fearing someone could've heard them.

Aegon laughed at his reaction and laid back down. "I heard our dear nephews and niece are going to pick a dragon egg for their new sibling."

"So?" Aemond asked dismissively, sitting beside Aegon's sprawled legs.

"Doesn't it bother you, even a little, that those bastards have dragons while you, the King's son, don't?"

Aemond closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "It's not anyone's fault that I don't have a dragon."

"Sure," Aegon breathed out, getting up and patting Aemond on the back. "Well, come on. We need to get ready."

"For what?" Aemond asked, puzzled.

"We're going to the dragon pit."

Aemond rolled his eyes, looking away. "So you and the Velaryons can train your dragons. Why am I needed?"

Aegon paused at the door, turning back with a grin.

"To sulk in the corner," he whispered before walking out.

#hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #daemon targaryen #helaena targaryen #house velaryon #house targaryen #harwin strong #cregan stark

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queers-gambit · 2 years

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Sweetest Devotion

[ part two ] [ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ] [ series masterlist ]

prompt: exhausted by the war efforts, your husband does what he can to protect you. but maybe in the end, it'll be you who saves him.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.3k+

note: two parts because total word count was at 17k. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: major book spoilers. cursing, some angst, some comfort, author projects a little, major alternate timeline ending. ❗️SPOILERS

The storm had followed Aemond home to wreck havoc over King's Landing, flooding the streets and homes in Flea Bottom and low bearing homes.

You weren't sure how long you sat in silence together, but your heart was weeping, and you had no earnest idea on how to move forward from this moment. Your baby brother, the sweet Prince Lucerys, had met his end from your husband's ruthless pursuit of revenge.

Though it was his dragon that did the slaying, he is still Vhagar's rider and wanted revenge; though he would've settled for an eye, the dragon did not understand.

Aemond was silent beside you, the storm heard from the Dragon Caves as water gently leaked through cracks in the foundation. You thought the weather matched your mood and did little to quell the raging tempest that built in your chest and head; if anything, it spurred your anger onward. Tears leaked from your eyes with no sign of stopping; legs remaining bent to keep your arms tight around them. You also could not meet his gaze, nor look upon his face without picturing your baby brother screaming in terror.

You sniffled several times as you couldn't do much else but cry, but then, you made a swift decision. Jumping to your feet, you muttered, "I must go."

"Wait," Aemond stood after you, following you to your saddled dragon. Kasta raised her head and narrowed her eyes in threat, growling when Aemond reached for you. "Sweet girl, please, just hang on a second - "

"No," you sneered, wheeling around on him - meeting his eye at last. "You did this. You killed my brother, and what I need right now, is fucking space."

"How do I know you're not leaving for good? Fleeing to tell your mother the news?" He asked hopelessly. "Please, my love, understand that I cannot let you leave me. I cannot bare it."

"You cannot keep me here," you whispered in return. "You said you'd smuggle me out of the city if I wanted. Well, this is what I want - to fly with Kasta, and to be rid of your presence for now."

Tears filled his violet eye, "Please tell me you will return?"

"What if I don't?" You sneered. "Will you get on Vhagar and follow me, too? Hunt me down in the skies, maybe? Let your dragon eat Kasta and I for her main course?"

The emerald green dragon positioned above you glowered, and bore her teeth as if to dare your husband to do anything.

"You know I'd never hurt you," he whispered, but reached for your arms. "I need you to step away with me, please. We need a word."

"A word? A word? You need a word with me? Where was that courtesy for my brother? A boy of only ten and four!? Hey!?"

But you silenced yourself when Vhagar lifted her head from her alcove and swung it to watch the three of you - making Kasta go on the defense. "Kasta," you demanded in High Valyrian, "enough. Do not engage."

Your dragon growled still, standing rigidly above you as Aemond's hands tightened over your upper arms. "Listen to me," he begged still, making your glare turn back to his lone eye, "and believe me, please, none of this was my intention."

"You've made that clear. Yet what I can understand, is that you antagonized a child and your dragon does not understand limits nor bounds. She does not understand you only wanted to torment and scare the boy, and when his dragon reacted in an effort to protect his rider, you lost control."

"Why is his dragon understood and mine crucified?"

You scoffed, "Truly? What business did a 10-year-old child have claiming some 180-year-old dragon!?"

"Now that is on trial!?"

"Aemond, what are you expecting here?" You snapped, ignoring the way your skin seared under his touch. "You and your fucking dragon killed my brother, end of story, end of sentence, no other room for judgement. This is your sin to bear, not mine, though I am now burdened with knowing my husband claimed the innocent life of my brother! How could you?" You whispered, stepping closer as your voice lowered but still rang clearer than the storm raging outside. Both hands tightened over his biceps, begging, "How could you do this? To me? To us? To my Mother? If it was an eye you wanted, you can have mine - both if it would satisfy you."

His head shook, "No. No, I would not - do not twist this on me."

"I am assuring you that there were any other way to solve this, and should you remember correctly, we married so that your pride might be soothed. As payment for my brother's actions, my hand was offered, and your father accepted that proposal. Pray tell me how that was not enough? After all this time?" Your arms laid over his to grab the muscle above his elbow; his grip tightening on your waist. "Why did you do it? Why did you push for this? It is by your selfishness that my brother isn't even allowed to be buried!"

"Say the word and we will go find him now," Aemond shook his head.

You scoffed, then nodded solemnly. "Truly?"

"I would do anything to right this terrible wrong. If it meant you stayed, if it meant I kept you, I would do anything."

You nodded again and tried to smile, but your tears made it difficult. Before Aemond could blink, your hands reached for his belt and yanked the leather free; grabbing his long-sword in hand and shoving the weapon into his chest - which forced him back two steps.

"Gut your dragon," you whispered into the eery silence.

"What?"

"Gut Vhagar and pull my brother's body free before the acids have time to dissolve him further," you sneered, pressing the sword harder.

"My love," he begged softly.

"No? Is that refusal?" You goaded.

"You know I cannot."

"Then there is nothing more I want from you than to be free to take my dragon into the skies. I cannot look at your face longer, knowing what I know now. I need time to think."

His hand softly folded over yours, pausing a moment to ask, "Is there any way you could forgive me?"

"I need to first find a way to fully stomach what you've done, then we might ponder if I can forgive you. I would not hold my breath if I were you, though."

His hand tightened over yours, nodding as he repeated to you your words from earlier that day in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me... Please."

You snorted through your nose, shaking your head, "Do not do that. Do not try to romance me now. You cannot possibly have love for me if your dragon ate my fucking brother."

You pulled away from him in full to make for Kasta again. Sword laid forgotten in the sand as he called after you, "Just be careful, my love, please. There's a storm tonight."

"Yes, I've ears to hear with, thank you!" You snapped over your shoulder. "I will be fine."

You wanted to tell him you'd return, but in truth, you were unsure if you were able to. You wanted to go back before today, before the love of your life had killed and eaten your little brother. Well, his dragon did the eating, and while that's not Aemond, and beasties are allowed to be wild from their masters, you were disgusted looking at him.

Kasta purred when you got to her side and easily climbed on top of the saddle, sparring Aemond only a single look before encouraging your dragon from the Caves under the Dragon Pit.

Aemond had to flatten himself against the Cave wall as Kasta surged past him - bursting into the frigid air, and spreading her wings to beat once, twice, three times, and rise into the air.

You soared higher and higher; darkness swallowing you as it had your brother, letting the storm encompass you whole. When Kasta was level, your hands let go of the saddle to sit back and choke on your sobs, arms going lax as your strength to hold yourself together gave way. And through the storm, what better way to release your rage?

You let your tears mix with the water splattering on your face. For the thunder to drown your anguished screams. For the lightning to flash away the images you unintentionally conjured when you thought of your husband and brother.

You let the vapid, sideways rain pound over you. For the wind to howl and create a legion of goose flesh to form over your shivering form; though you did not feel it. For the storm to become one with you.

Your pain was tangible. Your anguish known.

You flew for miles, unsure where you were heading because the storm demanded the forefront of your attention - but you weren't willing to give it. Kasta chose to fly aimlessly as she just wanted to stretch out, and for a moment, you considered just flying across the Narrow Sea. Head for Essos, where you would escape this petty stupidity. Where you would not have to choose between your beloved mother and adoring husband.

Between Green and Black.

Between rightful succession, and well... Tradition. You hated the thoughts when they registered in your head, but the truth of the matter is that after centuries of tradition as naming first-born males the heir, you were not stupid and understood your shit-stain-brother-by-law, Aegon, held a 'legitimate' claim now.

You were desperately confused, you had no honest idea what to do, and the further you flew in the storm, the more your exhaustion rose. As your dragon's pale green wings cut through the air and she took charge of your flight, you weighed the pro's and con's of each action.

If you stayed, you got Aemond - and that was enough of a pro on its own.

If you left, you'd be able to salvage whatever time you have with your brothers, Jace and Joffrey. Plus your step-sisters, Rhaena and Baela, along with half-siblings, Viserys II and Aegon III.

If you stayed, your dragon would be on the frontlines only due to her sheer size... And that sounded more like a con.

But! But! But! If you left, you knew the message you bore - that was sure to reach your mother's ears with or without you - would be reason enough for Rhaenyra to wage war. If you returned to your mother, you'd be thrown into her war, and with Kasta, who still grew in size and ferocity, who was to say you wouldn't be used on the frontlines there, too?

If you stayed, Aemond would always protect you. Not that you needed it but it was a comfort to know you'd not be alone.

You'd hopefully get to see your siblings all marry, too, if you went home.

Your child would know its father if you stayed.

You screamed into the night again.

Sobs ransacked your lungs, demanding oxygen be sucked in with a shuddering, stuttering inhale. You were restless and distraught, and even when time passed, the storm did not; nor did your heartbreak. But Kasta understood your pain, letting you sob into her hide as she flew you higher, higher, higher... Before breaking free of the storm to give you a view of the just rising sun.

You breathed in shock as you sat up off her shoulders. With your arms keeping you upright, you gazed with swollen red eyes to the beautiful sight before you; relishing in the swirls of colors that only brightened with each flap of Kasta's wings.

She hovered a moment to let you gaze at the clouds and rising sunlight, patting her shoulder as you praised in High Valyrian, "Good girl, my sweet Emerald. Good girl - thank you. Thank you," you whispered, hearing her purr as she beat her wings to keep her body suspended.

You took a sobering breath and sat up tall. With nobody around, you were left with only Kasta to speak to, and maybe, that'd be your saving grace in time. You spoke, "It is more than myself I need to consider. You are my priority," you smiled, stroking her neck, "but I also now have a baby growing in my womb, and I have to take them into consideration, too. Where we go, I have to think of you two the most - because I cannot let you suffer for human selfishness."

She gave a loud purr.

"Yet we have two options, my girl. We stay in King's Landing and we would fight with Aemond, only. We are loyal to him, not his usurping weasel of a brother."

She snorted, almost nodding her head. You saw her lips flutter and knew she bore her teeth in distrust of Aegon.

"If we return to Dragonstone, we are subservient to our Queen, my Mother, the rightful ruler and heir to the Iron Throne. Surely, with Daemon's influence, we would be expected to fight."

Saying it aloud again made you slump onto her shoulders, groaning, "Oh, Kasta, what the hell are we doing? We should just take our chances in Essos."

She huffed.

"No? Maybe Pentos?"

She growled.

"Then where should we go, pet? Where? Where you are safe and so is my baby?"

Kasta whined lightly, unsure of your decision either.

"I care little for my own safety, but you, my precious girl, are entirely dear to me and I will not risk you in open war. I could not ask that of you, you are not at fault for the deceit my people show. But we have to chose which side we are to take, love. Where I took vowels to be loyal to Aemond, we know Rhaenyra is right and true, but with Luke's death, she... She cannot be thinking levelly."

Kasta lowly whined in agreement, turning in a circle to keep her blood pumping before coming to another halt. You had a view to a sea of sun-soaked clouds, finding rolling hills of different colors; all painted on fluffy canvases.

"She'll need me now more than ever," you whispered. "She cannot do this alone, and... And the Greens have Vhagar. The Blacks have Meleys. Yet if I take a position, I will still have to fight the ones I love, the dragons you grew with."

But Kasta gave a small snarl.

"You know I mean Aemond," you chuckled lowly. "He's the best trained with a sword and rides the largest dragon... He'd be sent off to battle, and to meet him, I'd wager Daemon would not hesitate to send us with Melyes and Rhaenys. What would hurt more, Kasta? Fighting my step father and mother's cousin? Or fighting the man I was sworn to love and be loyal to before the Gods? Who sires my children? But... The man has killed my brother and I fear I'd be unable to forgive him. What do I do, Kasta?"

She whined again.

"I made vows to him," you whispered brokenly. "I do not think I can leave... Mother would surely use us to fight, but at least Aemond would protest Aegon's command, try to keep us safe..." Your tears streamed down your cheeks, making you nod, "All right, yeah, come now, my love, we need to go."

Kasta anticipated this and turned to dive back into the storm; your eyes closing from the whipping wind stinging your eyes as Kasta dove at an angle straight down. You held on tightly and trusted her, and when she leveled, you cracked your eyes open to see your dragon flapping her wings straight for the distant Red Keep.

"Mumma's sneaky girl, aren't you?" You chuckled at her, patting her neck with an affection hand. She gave a roar of announcement as she swiftly circled the Dragon Pit and descended; landing with a trembling thud before she was hurrying under cover from the still-raging storm. You held on until she came to a halt in the Caves; pausing to let you slide off your saddle. "Good girl," you praised, letting her forehead caress the scales of her cheek. "Good girl, thank you. Always my good girl, yes," she gave a small snort of contentment, almost leaning into you.

"Thank you for returning my wife safely, Kasta," Another voice purred in smooth High Valyrian, and you sighed when you recognized it instantly. It was a voice you longed to hear, but not yet - not so soon. You did not think he'd still be here at this hour.

"I've only just returned, Aemond, are you truly that dull or does the concept of time and space just not register in your head?" You leered to Aemond from over your shoulder.

"I needed to see you were safe with my own eye," he sighed, watching your dragon patter (read: took thundering steps) into her alcove for rest; leaving the two of you as alone as you could be.

"You see me now," you snipped. "Now leave me be."

"We should talk - "

"The only thing I've left to say is that I'm done," you nodded. "I'm not leaving you, don't bother even trying to lock up Kasta - she's been biting lately. But I can't stay with you anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"That I still need time and space to think about this, it's not a decision I can come to in a single evening," you sighed. "Look, I'll move out - "

"No, wait," Aemond stepped towards you but you held a hand.

"It's for the best," you backed off a step. "I can't live in our room anymore, not when you are everywhere. I'll suffocate."

"I'll move out."

"Do you not listen?" You groaned lightly. "You're all I see in that room, and I need time apart. I understand what happened with Vhagar, I do - and while I'm sorry you feel guilt over losing control, I still need you to have accountability for the actions taken tonight. You've started a war - both in life with my mother, and in my heart with my head."

Your words planted his feet as his stomach plunged; letting you slip past him only just - your ears catching his whisper, "Will you ever forgive me?"

You paused but did not look at him. "Time will tell," you alluded, unsure of what to tell him in truth. You left after that, the storm thick and making you stick to back allies of King's Landing to reach the Red Keep again. Seemingly out of respect, Aemond did not follow, and from your shared quarters, you made a beeline for the one thing you wanted. The rest of the room and all contents shared some kind of memory attached to your husband.

You only took an ornate jewelry box your mother had gifted you years ago and quickly fled the room in favor of locating Amira. From there, she helped you locate a new room, and together, you shoveled clothes into trucks, and with another maid, Clara, carried two full trunks between you three.

You lead, holding one handle, Amira in the middle, both hands holding an end of a trunk, and Clara at the rear; a single rucksack strung around yours and Clara's shoulders. You ignored the bewildered looks of others to quickly head for your new room, somewhere far from Aemond to avoid accidentally running into him.

Your two maidens helped you unload your trunks with two jugs of wine - the night long, and given your status, you could 'relieve' the two women of their daily chores. So, they spent the night with you, and you didn't dare open your mouth about what happened.

You told them you and Aemond had a terrible fight and you needed space to think. They understood and while you saw the way Clara wanted to push, Amira was sending her stern looks that silenced the younger girl. They did not linger after the sun broke the horizon, but Amira did return to bring you something for breakfast.

You didn't realize this would become your new normal.

Weeks upon weeks went by with Aemond keeping his distance and it drove you up the bloody wall. On one hand, you were frustrated because you were alone, but also angry, because he killed your brother. You craved his affection, his touch, but still felt repulsed by the sight of him. He liked to send you flowers; filling your room with sickly sweetness that made your anger almost solidify, but the reminder of the act of kindness went farther than you were willing to admit; and though you'd not admit it, each little card that came with the flowers were saved in a small, carved wooden box.

On the loneliest nights, you curled up in bed, caressed your still-growing bump, and reread his declarations of love and loyalty. His words that read how much he missed you, and prayed for you daily.

In order to maintain appearances to both his family and the public, you and Aemond attended official royal events together. However, the silence between you and Aemond echoed across any room; earning the attention of his family.

They were well aware by now of Luke's demise and could only assume you knew, as well; but nobody ever confronted you about it after Aemond threatened physical harm to any who dared. When Aegon threw Aemond a feast to celebrate his 'accomplishment', not even the arrogant boy-King questioned your notable absence. Especially after teasing he'd go collect you himself - and earned Aemond's venomous glare that rooted him in spot.

For weeks, you slept alone, mostly ate alone, couldn't bare to sit with Helaena and her children anymore. You were heartbroken and feeling sick from stress, isolating yourself in the hope of figuring out your emotions and next steps forward.

You tried to rationalize in your head that in times of war, casualties were inevitable; but you were frustrated because it was the first punch, and never knew where to place your emotions. Granted, you could've considered Aegon's coronation provocation towards war but your mother was trying to be calculated in her movements; almost now forced into the fray following the death of Lucerys.

Despite this understanding, nothing in your mind cleared.

Until enough was enough when the next storm struck the city. You flinched awake and felt your chest tighten with memories of your baby brother as the storm had tapped into your subconscious to make you dream of him. It felt more like a haunting now.

You were left alone to pace the cold, stone floors, the hearth stoked to life, flowers slowly drying from a vase on the spare table, but the thunder made you tremble and rub your palms together. Your mind did not stop, nor did the frantic, vapid beat of your heart; anxiety flaring with each flash of lightning.

You flinched when there was a pounding at your door. Not a knock, but four beats of a fist in rapid succession that nearly made the whole door shake off its hinges.

Gulping any nerves, you reached for the handle and opened it a crack; curious as to who would call upon you at this late hour. But what you saw surprised you, making you blink a few times. "You're soaked," You whispered, leaning on the door you held, taking note of the rain water dripping off Aemond's form.

"There were matters I had to attend to, so, I was outside for a time," he explained with a nervous nod. "I was just returning, and only wanted to come by and check on you..."

"Why?"

He shrugged some, "The storm, and because I love you. I didn't want you feeling so alone. I know you grow weary."

You nodded as another crack of thunder rumbled, making you ask softly, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," he whispered with a curt nod, watching you step away to push the door open and grant him passage into the smaller room. When he stepped over the threshold, you gulped nervously and shut the door securely. "You rearranged," he noted with a small chuckle. "Like you did in our room."

"I think I am nesting," you smiled, smoothing a hand around your swollen belly. "Times I am stressed, I can curl up in bed with a book."

He nodded, "Good."

The bookshelf was in a new place than the first, last, and only time he's seen your new room, and the bed was pushed into a corner where you had piled a mountain of pillows to create a literal nest. You watched him for a moment, offering, "Do you want to change? You might catch a cold in that."

He nodded, "Uh, yeah, yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, sweet girl, but I have clothes in, uh, our room..."

You smiled softly and went to the wardrobe to find him something new, warm, and suitable to change into. "I kept some of your clothes, they're comfortable to sleep in," you explained, slightly defending yourself as you didn't like feeling so vulnerable under his luminescent gaze. "What were your errands?" You wondered gently.

He sighed, "I had to visit the Storm Lands again, Aegon had a new message for Lord Borros."

"How fairs your intended?"

He laughed, "Oh, my beautiful girl, you still think that's happening?"

"Is it, Aemond?"

"Not in the slightest," he sighed, nodding with assurance when your eyes met his with skepticism. "I told Aegon now wasn't the time for strife between my wife and I, and I wasn't available to do his bidding nor make his alliances."

You considered his words, then asking, "Is there news?"

Aemond cleared his throat, nodding as you presented the clothing and sat it on the bed. Then, your hands took hold of his jerkin and started to undo the latches and laces - as if no time had passed. He sighed, "Your step-father claimed Harrenhal and the Lady Arryn and Lords Manderly, Sunderland, and Stark, maybe another, have declared for your mother's side."

You nodded, peeling the wet leather from his form. "And your news to Storm's End?"

"To break the engagement in person, but Borros did not seem too disheartened."

"You think he would abandon the cause?"

"No," he sighed. "He's smarter than that."

"Uneducated, though," you mused gently, peeling his tunic free from his damp chest. "Hang on," you paused, moving for the heath to pull off a towel from a drying rack. When you returned, you asked, "And how are you feeling now?"

"Exhausted," he whispered. "But I was worried about you, Princess, when I came home and saw the storm was here, too."

You nodded, "You do not need worry - "

"Of course I do," he snarled gently, "you are most precious to me, my love," he frowned as his tone tapered off, shaking his head. "'S been killing me trying to give you space."

"Thank you for it," you nodded, sweeping over his skin to dry it before handing him the thin, white tunic. "But um..." You paused with nervousness, nudging his booted foot with your bare one. "Take those off."

"What were you truly going to say?"

You rolled your eyes some, silently cursing him for knowing you so bloody well. "That I do not wish to be alone tonight... Maybe you'd like to stay?"

"You'd want me?"

"Of course," you nodded, gently unlacing his trousers and stepping away to let him change completely into drier pants. "I told you I didn't want to be alone."

"You've been so angry."

"With reason."

"I know," he nodded, eye tinging red from restrained emotion. "I'm so sorry - "

"For what this time?"

"All of it," he reached for you, changed finally. "But I swore you wouldn't be alone, and here, I just left you."

"I wanted to be alone," you reminded softly.

"Did not mean you should have been," he whispered, letting his forehead meet yours. He let out a sigh of relief, "Let me fix us."

"I think time apart has sickened my stomach... And your child misses the sound of your voice," you admitted. "I don't want to be without you anymore, but your brother oversteps himself."

"I know - "

"He threw you a feast for killing my brother," you reminded, stepping away. "He mocks my pain."

"I will have a word with him - and with everyone. You will not be caught between this war, you are my wife, and I will protect you against them all."

"I am only loyal to you," you sighed. "So, whatever you ask of me, I will do, but only that. I am not your brother's subject - "

"Hey," he quipped, slipping his hand over your mouth and giving a suspicious glance around the room. "I hear you, pet, I do, trust me, but the walls have ears now. Please..."

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him before opening your mouth and boldly licking his palm. He tasted like leather, and just like you wanted, he recoiled in shock from the feel of your tongue. "Wash your hands, husband," you chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Because you don't know where you've been, wife?" He teased, pulling a soft mug at his soiled hand before stepping away from you to head for the wash basin.

"I haven't really left this room, Aemond," you sighed.

"I know," he admitted, washing his hands and forearms, "I was worried about you isolating yourself but Amira kept saying you needed space to think."

"She's a good friend," you smiled gently, watching him. "Can we be done with this?"

He offered a look of shock, "What? With what, love?"

You sighed, quelling his worry by responding, "This fight? The distance between us? I don't... I don't want space anymore. I just want you, Aemond, I want my husband back."

His shoulders gently slumped with relief as he dried his hands. "Yes, good, we're done, it's at an end, my love. You have me, you always have - and always will."

"I'm still working on forgiving you but I think, all things considered, we can start... Moving on..."

He nodded, "Many are lost in war, but I am so sorry he was the first. And that it was by my hand."

"Thank you for saying that," you nodded at him, finding his accountability refreshing. "Come to bed, please?"

"In your nest?" He chuckled, letting your hand reach for his and lead him to the mattress.

"Yes, it's cozy," you defended. "And you made me sleep alone, so, I made do with what I had."

"Fight's over, love, that's all done now," he promised with a sigh, settling into your nest and readjusting a few times. "Hmm," he considered, glancing around the mountain of silks and fluff. "I don't think I hate it completely."

"Shhh," you hushed as you moved to curl up at his side. The hearth had died a bit in flame, but the warmth was enough that you only needed a thin sheet for comfort. You smiled when his hand laid to your belly, rubbing gently as if in fascination.

"Missed you so much, sweet girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You sighed against him, promising you missed him, too; then deflating into his chest as sleep tugged at your form. You still flinched into his embrace on a few particular hard claps of thunder rattling the walls and windows, but Aemond was there to soothe you back into gentle submission.

Yet, by morning, there was nothing but chaos.

"MY PRINCE!" Someone banged at the door, making you and your husband flinch awake. "PRINCESS!"

"The hell?" Aemond muttered through a haze of sleep, hand tightening on your waist.

"MY PRINCE! PLEASE! PRINCESS! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE! MY LADY! LORD! LORD, PLEASE!"

"That's Mira," you realized, sitting up in shock. "Come in, come in!"

"Love," Aemond reprimanded, yanking the bedsheet over his bare hips after feigning being too hot in the night to spend it in your cunt with you still in your singlet.

The door barged open and Amira entered with a pant, "You both need to come quick!"

"What's happened? Are we under attack?" You worried.

"No, no, well, I-I don't - I don't know anymore," she panted, using her hands to reiterate her words. "Something has happened - "

"Tell us plainly," Aemond demanded.

"The Queen - y-your mother, s-s-someone broke in a-and bound her," Amira told you both with a tremble; making you grab Aemond's hand as if it would quell his growing temper. "Th-They killed the hand maiden and your sister arrived with all three of her children, like they do every night - t-to say goodnight to their grandmother."

"No," you whispered.

"The door was barred," Amira's tears started, "an-and the Queen was made to choose which of her sons would die."

"For the love of the Gods," Aemond cursed, looking down as if to prepare himself.

Amira gulped.

"Tell us," you encouraged.

"S-She named Maelor... But they killed Jaehaerys instead." You felt the tears swell. "They took his head, and fled the Keep," she whispered.

"What?" You gasped.

"But, wait, wait," she saw both your temper and Aemond's flare when his head lifted to burn her with his glare. The missing eyepatch allowed his sapphire to leave her unnerved. "One of the assassins was caught. He's been brought to the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Aemond nodded.

"Yes, my Prince. Your brother is being informed and anticipated he'll call for you," she explained. "Your mother is being seen to, she is well-enough, and the Lady Helaena was not harmed... But she is beside herself with grief."

"Rightfully," you nodded, watching Amira sniffle.

"I'll go, but perhaps, Lady, you should remain... You do not need to bear witness to the King's justice," she spoke softly.

"I will go with my husband, thank you, Amira," you nodded at her, letting her turn for the door in haste. "Aemond?" You turned to him, reaching for his cheek to direct his attention to you. "Hey, hey, stay in the present with me; take me through your thoughts..."

He shook his head, leaning in to sigh when his head rested in the crook of your neck. "I do not even know," he admitted. "What am I supposed to do right now? What am I to think? What - What if they came for us? Came for you?" His hand secured to your belly. "This is retribution for Lucerys, this is my fault - my doing. They could've come for you, my love - "

"They did not because they know I am under your protection, my sweet love," you muttered, caressing the back of his head. "Nobody would be so foolish."

"Then perhaps I need to keep you close," he frowned, lifting his gaze. "So that I can protect you at all times." You nodded, letting his hand caress your belly in soothing circles. "I-I am ashamed to admit I cannot stop thinking about it. If they came for you."

"Aemond," your hand reached for his jaw; fingers fitting between his ear to thread slightly into his hair. "Do not burden yourself with the unknown, please. The hypothetical, it-it will not serve us now. When we're alone, yes, my love, please, grieve and be upset and tell me what thoughts plague your mind. But we need to hit pause because there's business to attend right now."

He sniffled and nodded some. "You're right. Come with me, please."

You agreed, and together, got from the bed. After changing from your singlet, you both hustled through the castle to make for the dungeons - your husband armed with his long sword and two different daggers. Your hand was tight in his, trying to help keep him level headed as you met Aegon and witnessed the murderer, 'Blood', be tortured for answers.

He admitted to a partner, a rat-catcher named Cheese, and that he was on his way to collect payment for the Prince's death from your step-father, Daemon. Aemond's arm constricted around you when he heard, trying to prevent any residual anger be directed your way.

Yet, it never came.

Blood confessed to being told this ransom by some 'whore', nicknamed Misery - and you stilled at the familiar name. Only Aemond noted it, and he would question you later - where you'd admit to knowing the name of the White Worm because she was Daemon's paramour - before focusing on the interrogation.

The rest was a frenzy.

Over a two week period, Aegon hung every single rat-catcher in the city after being unsuccessful in locating this 'Cheese' character. In truth, they could not find your step-father's woman, either, but finding Cheese was much more important - since he fucking murdered the Prince. To be sure, all were executed and Aegon had their heads mounted on spikes around the Red Keep's fortress walls, and the Hand, Otto, had cats shipped into the Keep to take over the catcher's old job.

You and Aemond sought comfort in each other's arms the night you found out the truth of his sister's state. She had locked herself away and threw herself into a deep depression, unable to care for her children, and absolutely refusing to care for Maelor - after she named him to die. In response, Aegon had taken up residence in another room and gave his mother, Alicent, care of the baby after deeming his sister-wife unfit.

It made the both of you outrageously grateful for one another and all feelings of hardship truly evaporated. He held you close, letting his fingers run over your flesh; relishing in the warm feel of your curves. He liked kissing your forehead, holding your baby bump, letting calloused fingertips trace the contours of your face.

Yet the worst was yet to come.

The blows kept coming.

Aegon had seemingly lost the support of the mainland, the Riverlands, and left him in a drunken despair following the murder of his son. He grew tired of waiting and denounced his grandsire, Otto Hightower, as Hand before anointing Ser Criston Cole.

You and Aemond had shared looks of mistrust when the ceremony occurred to announce the change of position - both feeling as if Aemond was being cheated out of a natural position.

Yet, he did not voice anything and did as he was bid.

He did not let you on the frontlines despite his brother's nagging and pushing for such. Aemond worried for the babe in your womb and refused his brother every time - telling him to condemn both you and he as a traitor for it, then.

Aegon never followed through and actually left you be. Yet, as if in retaliation, he sent Aemond on constant errands and missions.

One day, when your husband returned victorious from his latest mission with his brother, who you could not see, because Ameond was rushing for you waiting at the gates of the Keep, and seized hold of your hips. "Come with me," he ushered, trying to lead you away.

"What's wrong?" You worried, hearing the crowds gather in the city streets. "Aemond? 'S goin' on, love?"

He sighed, and then you saw it over his shoulder. "Oh, Gods, no, no, no, no, no," you whispered, a large wagon carrying the head of the Red Queen, Meleys, who was your Grandmother's dragon. "What happened?" You rounded on Aemond. "Tell me what happened!"

"It was a fair fight," he assured softly, avoiding your gaze. "But..."

"Please, just tell me," you whispered, one hand to your lower belly as if to support the babe growing in your womb.

"Meleys perished and her head was brought back to encourage the commonfolk. Sunfyre was severely wounded and had to be left behind in Rook's Rest, and Aegon is gravely wounded, he'll be seen by the Maester's, and..."

"Please."

"Your Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, did not survive. Or, so we think. There was a body too charred to identify found with the Red Queen."

"Gods," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist to rest on his chest. You whispered sadly, "It just follows us now, doesn't it? Everywhere we look..."

"What does?"

"Death."

He frowned and leaned down to kiss your head, giving a tight squeeze. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

But the blows didn't stop.

Rumor reached the Keep of your brother, Prince Jacerys, collecting Targaryen bastards - offering a knighthood to those who could conquer any of the six, riderless dragons left on Dragonstone. Apparently, many tired, many failed, and only four were conquered - including King Jaehaerys' dragon, Vermithor.

The Greens were vastly outmatched.

You grew nervous and Aemond often spent his nights mindlessly tracing up and down your spine to assure you he was still there. He was still alive. He was still with you.

The blows kept coming.

Your two half-brothers, Viserys II and Aegon the Younger, were being transferred across the sea when the Green's navy found them. No ships were left untouched and rumor had it, only Aegon III survived - clinging to the neck of his injured dragon. However, there was no way of confirming if he ever washed ashore or not, so, the idea of him being lost to the sea sank your stomach to new depths.

Over the Gullet of Blackwater Bay, your brother, Jace, had apparently flown too close to the water's surface when he descended to avenge his half-brothers. He leapt from Vermax' back as the dragon crashed and died in the accident, leaving the Green's navy defenses to take aim and shoot the Prince to the death.

He was never pulled from the waters. Again, another brother with no body to mourn or burn.

However, the men Otto recruited from the Stepstones made landfall and sacked Spicetown before laying siege to High Tide. Apparently, they burnt the whole of it, and all of your Grandfather, Corlys', treasures were lost. In addition, a third of his fleet was set ablaze - and you felt guilt for the small relief you felt.

Maybe the end of the war was soon upon you.

By a stroke of nature, you went into labor following news of your brother's demise. It was the smallest semblance of happiness the Greens could find, and they paced at your door; curious for the new addition to the family. Husbands weren't usually allowed in the birthing chambers but Aemond left no choice; holding your hand through it all and using a cloth to dab sweat from your forehead and brow. He paced with you, sat behind you when you needed to squat, did not let anyone touch you when you did not wish to be touched.

He was encouraging, soft, loving, and mostly, worried. The labors of birth was not for the weak of heart, and Aemond had to remind himself several times to be strong for you.

A full fucking day and a half in labor, and you and Aemond were then laid in bed holding a pair of twins. A boy, who looked just as his father does, who his mother named Olyver, and a little girl, who liked to wriggle around in her father's arms, who he named Brinna.

"You did so good, my love, so good," Aemond whispered from beside you, supporting your weight on his shoulder and weight of his newborn daughter in his arms. "Look at them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Mhm," you assured softly.

His mother and brother visited to offer good tidings, leaving both of you surprised by Aegon's presence. Helaena never showed. But Otto did, offering you both congratulations.

Aemond was awe-struck, holding his children carefully; thanking you repeatedly for giving him the gift of fatherhood. They were gorgeous babes with stark white hair and bright purple eyes that slowly darkened with the passing weeks.

Aemond was obsessed. He liked their cribs at the base of your bed - in case they needed anything - and was always first to hop up to offer them care or comfort. Except when they were hungry, then he had to wake you, but he liked sitting behind you as you nursed the twins one at a time, on different breasts.

He couldn't stop showering you in compliments, truly in awe over what you both had created. He didn't like maids or midwives around the babies, often shooing them away in favor of either of you. Following the Blood and Cheese incident, he was overly protective and did not like your twins far from either of you. However, he was the first to call for aid when the long nights took a toll on you; leaving you to rest undisturbed while the babies slept in a separate room.

Any night your husband wasn't home, you were laid in bed with your twins with a wall of pillows around the edges. Aemond was named Protector of the Realm in his brother's absence - Aegon recovering from his severe broken bones and burns obtained at Rook's Rest. This only meant your husband was extremely busy as of late, but every night, no matter the time, he still came back to you.

You preferred knowing he was in meetings and strategy sessions rather than out on the frontlines with Vhagar - never allowing you to know of his safety. It was a gamble if he came home, which resulted in a passionate reunion, yes, but the anxiety you felt wasn't truly worth it. Now that he ruled in his brother's stead, you knew he'd come to bed eventually and started to settle down easier.

But then, when your children were under two, Aemond came to you with a proposition; late from a war strategy meeting, and slipping into bed behind you. He gave a tight squeeze to your frame, making you hum as you woke up fully from your sleepy daze.

"My love," you muttered, reaching up to caress the back of his neck as his lips pressed into your neck several times. You sighed in contentment, small smile on your lips.

"I need to ask you something important, sweet girl. Are you awake?"

"Mhm. What's wrong?" Then, you shot up to twist around and look at him with a crazed expression, "Is it the children!?"

"No, no," he soothed quickly, slowly coaxing you to lay down again. "C'mere, please," he sighed, slowly guiding you back into position. You tried to relax but his words made you suspicious; letting a hand lace with his that was resting on your stomach.

"What is it, love? Worrying me a bit," you sighed, feeling his breath fan over your neck and shoulder.

"Could you ride Kasta with us?" He sighed into your hair, being the big spoon.

"Where, my Prince?"

"To Harrenhal," he revealed quietly. "We mean to move on Daemon from the East and the Lannisters from the West, and in truth, I would hope he'd at least yield if he saw you. Or, more like, if he saw Kasta."

You nodded softly and turned in his arms so you could see his worried expression, reaching out to trace a fingertip over his face. You asked in a whisper, "You would spare him?"

"I have been the cause of enough of your grief, my love," he whispered, "I would try to undo some damage. Yes, I would take him alive, spare his life."

You sighed, "All right."

"We march at dawn after Cole and his men," he informed.

You sighed in agreement, "All right. Then, you're not fucking me, we're going to sleep if I'm to leave bed for long."

His grin was felt against your lips, and just as he planned, your resolve crumbled easily to let him flip you back around and slip inside you, but he still left time for you both to rest. What a gentleman. When you rose, both you and Aemond dressed for the excursion before kissing your children goodbye.

With your husband at your side, you both mounted your dragons solemnly before letting them take to the skies - the armies long-gone with Cole at the lead. They were easy to catch up with, and unknown to any of you, your step-father knew of the Green movement and flew Caraxes to King's Landing to meet your mother on Syrax.

None of you would know of the damage until it was too late.

After a 19-day march through mud and rain, that was met with only few battles from lesser Lords, you were surprised to find Harrenhal empty. Abandoned. There was only the weakened bodies of House Strong left, and all were taken prisoner. You eyed the castle wearily after Aemond had called you from the skies, feet crunching over charred dirt as you went.

"What's happened?" Aemond wondered gently, looking around with you in skepticism.

"He fled," you noted with suspicion, eyes meeting your husband's gaze as you slowly reached for his hand. "He wouldn't unless for something bigger, Aemond."

He nodded mutely as a grinning Cole approached you both, informing, "The whole place is abandoned. Word must've reached him of our numbers and he didn't want the fight. I imagine he's already back at Dragonstone."

You hummed, "Maybe, but it's not like Daemon to flee. We're talking about the same madman who took the Blood Stone Island singlehandedly - "

"Until he was overrun and your Grandsire rode to his aid," Cole cut off, sighing at you. "Daemon's past triumphs are of no use nor concern here. The truth is, he's fled the fortress and it's been reclaimed in the name of King Aegon."

"No, something's not right," you insisted, still glancing around as if to expect a message that would tell you where Daemon had gone. "He wouldn't just give up, not without the Queen's explicit instruction."

"Could his Queen have given another order?" Aemond wondered, and Cole had to physically restrain himself from snapping that Rhaenyra was the False Queen - and that Alicent and Helaena were the rightful leading Ladies of the Realm.

You paused to consider his question, muttering, "'S possible. But what was said? And when?" Your head shook, "No, something's not right. Can't you feel it?"

"They say this castle is haunted, Lady," Cole sighed.

"No, it goes beyond that - and fuck off, Cole, ghosts are real," you snipped, waving him off. "I don't think we should stay, I-I think we should return to the capital. Love?"

Before Aemond could answer, Cole did, "No, we need to hold the fort."

"With respect," you spat at Cole, "but this is not the easy win you think it is. How much would you wager there's been a spy?"

"Impossible - "

"Improbable," you corrected, "but very much possible."

This lead you three to make for one of the strategy rooms to argue, nobody truly knowing what the next course of action should be.

That was, until the late hours, when a bloodied and soot-covered messenger arrived. "Love," You gasped when the man burst into the room, grabbing onto Aemond in shock.

"Who are you?" Aemond demanded, hand to his longsword.

"I-I come - I come from the Keep, my Prince," the man panted. "I carry grave news."

"What's happened?" Cole demanded.

The message was simple: after they had all left, Rhaenyra and Daemon flew their dragons over the city and your Grandsire, Corlys, sailed into Blackwater Bay - seizing it. Any messenger was caught and arrested, anyone trying to send ravens, too. Yet, your messenger only managed to escape through the back tunnels under the Keep; but could not avoid the panic of the city.

"What of the King?" Aemond demanded.

Larys Strong had managed to smuggle Aegon, his daughter, Jaehaera, and Prince Maelor out of the city. He sent the children to different places, and did not say where Aegon was sent. You'd only learn later he was planted in Dragonstone.

"Where is Larys now?" Aemond muttered, being told the man simply disappeared and there was no further news of him.

"And the Queen?" Cole needed to know.

Alicent had been spared, but her father, Otto, your husband's grandsire, had been beheaded - and any remaining Greens surrendered to Rhaenyra. The city was sacked in less than a day.

"What of our children?" Aemond demanded with a tremor to his voice, his arm around you tightened with each passing second as you waited for an answer.

Allegedly, Alicent had been found holding your babies tightly to her chest, trying to protect them - begging they be spared when finally caught. But Rhaenyra thought the little girl looked oddly like Laena Velaryon, and upon closer inspection, discovered the twins to definitely be your children. They were spared and being taken care of by your mother, now; apparently being under strict watch.

"Oh, Gods," you breathed, starting to pace as panic cemented your stomach. "I-I should not have left. Oh, no, no, no, Gods, please, no, what have we done?"

"We don't know if your life would've been spared, my love," Aemond argued, turning to grab onto you and halt your pacing, "better you were here with us then left to the unknown. We will get our babies back, I swear to you."

"No, no, this is my mother we're talking about, Aemond," you snapped. "She would not harm me - "

"She would if she thought you Green," he pointed out. "I know you're worried, I am, too, but we will find our children soon. We are not abandoning them, I promise you."

"I just want our family together," you whispered tearfully, feeling stressed beyond belief. His arms encircled around you, letting you rest against his chest and almost forgetting the present company.

"My Prince?" Cole asked.

"We march for the capital," his head turned to look at Cole and nod, arms never loosening from around you. It was as if he thought his arms protected you, but it wasn't like you wanted to leave.

"No, no, we should join with Ormund Hightower and your brother, Prince Daeron!"

"Our family needs us," Aemond argued. "Our children, Cole! Where is your head, how can you think there's any other choice of action!?"

"The country needs us - and Daeron is your kin, so are the Hightowers!"

"Our children are in a sacked city, Cole! They're left with the enemy!"

"Which is truly unfortunate, but there is nothing - "

"LIKE HELL THERE ISN'T!" Aemond roared, letting go of you to stride up Cole in anger. "Our children will not be sacrificed! If it takes every life of every man at disposal, then that is what we will do!"

"You're all ignoring the biggest point," you snapped, reddened eyes glaring at the two men as the messenger was given leave to rest. "I told you Daemon did not simply leave - he was tipped off. There's a mole amongst us and someone is sharing secrets."

Aemond's head snapped to look at you, "I told you I did not trust him..."

"Who?" Cole asked.

"Ser Larys Strong," you sneered. "I do believe we need to have a conversation with Ser Simon Strong."

"For now, Lady, we should feast," Cole nodded. "It's been a long journey and the men are tired. Please, for tonight, allow us reprieve from turmoil."

Aemond nodded in agreement, and while you rested from pure exhaustion in a hard, cold bed, your husband took part in the night's festivities. You heard rumor later of him boasting how Daemon grew weary from their numbers and strength, but never once gave mention to the suspicions you shared.

[ part two ]

[ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

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kckt88 · 10 months

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Blood & Cheese.

Summary:

In revenge for the death of Luke, assassins invade the Red Keep and tragedy soon follows.

Warning(s): Fear, Grief, Mourning, Blood, Devastation, Child Loss, Funeral, Burning of Bodies.

Word Count: 2250

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

With the acquisition of Storms End, the majority of the houses in the Reach were quick to pledge their support and bend the knee in favour of who they believed was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

Of course, Otto’s little campaign featuring Vaera didn’t hurt matters either.

The eldest daughter of Rhaenyra, and wife to Aemond supporting the rightful King was enough to convince some of the more fickle Lords and sway them to the Greens.

But the Warden of the North Lord Cregan Stark had honoured his father’s oath and bent the knee to Rhaenyra, and with Winterfell, the rest of the North were quick to follow. The Vale had obviously declared for Rhaenyra, as her mother was an Arryn and Lady Jayne would not turn against her kin.

There was also the Velaryon’s that were a constant matter of contention during the council meetings. Corlys had instructed his fleet to blockade the Gullet and seal it off, preventing any seaborn travel and trade.

Food was becoming scarcer by the day, and it was only a matter of time before the people of Kings Landing would rebel against their King. Something which Rhaenyra and those advising her were obviously counting on.

What’s worse, was the council had just received word that Daemon and his forces had taken Harrenhall. The odds were in Rhaenyra’s favour, and she knew it. The Greens had to act fast otherwise Rhaenyra would be successful in seizing the Iron Throne.

Aemond meanwhile was preoccupied with trying to find out what had happened to Lucerys, but no matter who he beseeched for information, none was forth coming. Somebody had to know something, but they were keeping quiet and it frustrated Aemond no end.

Yet listening to the council members arguing was beginning to grate on him. Every strategy they’d put forward had failed them. Rhaenyra was winning and it would only be a matter of time before she amassed enough support to invade Kings Landing and kill all those who conspired against her.

Aemond feared for the lives of his wife and their sons. He would gladly give his life for them, but what about after, would they be safe from Rhaenyra’s wrath or Daemon’s for that matter.

The Rogue Prince was proving himself a formidable foe, one that garnered respect and fear. Clearly Rhaenyra’s most valuable asset, the day she’d dispatched Laenor Velaryon, and married Daemon was the best strategic move she could have made.

Aemond couldn’t help but think of Vaera in that moment, his sweet wife. She had truly blessed his life; she’d given him two beautiful sons and gods willing she would grant him more.

Aemond didn’t know if he wanted to be a father, especially since his own hadn’t been any kind of father to his children except his beloved Rhaenyra. But Aemon and Rhaegar were everything to him, the love he felt was boundless. He couldn’t wait until his boys got older, he could train them in the ways of the sword, educate them in the history of House Targaryen and stand proud as they mount their dragons Brightfyre and Valaerys for the first time.

Suddenly a frenzied squire burst into the council chambers.

“Apologise Your Grace. But the nursery. T-The children”

Aemond was instantly on his feet, the feeling of terror turning his blood cold as he raced towards the nursery with Aegon and the Kings guard following close behind.

“DADDY” shouted Rhaegar.

Aemond desperately kicked at the door as hard as he could. The screams of Vaera, his mother and sister could be heard echoing down the corridor.

“PLEASE. NO. KILL ME. I BEG YOU” screamed Vaera.

Aemond could hear Rhaegar screaming hysterically as he continued to kick the locked door.

“NO. NOT HIM” shrieked Helaena.

“H-Helaena” exclaimed Aegon.

“DADDY. WHERE ARE YOU?” shouted Rhaegar frantically.

“Daddy’s here. I’m coming” replied Aemond desperately.

“NO”

Suddenly the screams stopped and there was only silence.

Aemond looked over at Aegon who’s face had gone awfully pale.

“TOGETHER” shouted Aemond as Aegon gave a sharp nod.

Aemond and Aegon gave the wooden door one last kick, the wood splintering as it burst off its hinges.

As soon as the door gave way, nothing could have prepared Aemond for the sight that greeted him.

Alicent was huddled in the corner, desperately clutching Rhaegar, Maelor and Jaehaera. Her eyes red rimmed and wide with shock.

The blood, there was so much blood on the floor. Flowing in every direction.

Time seemed to slow down as Aemond caught sight of his beloved wife sitting on the floor, her body rocking back and forth.

Aemond collapsed to his knees beside Vaera and screamed as he saw what his wife held in her arms.

The lifeless bloodied body of their son.

Aemon’s once bright amethyst eyes were now devoid of life, his tiny neck split open to the bone.

“V-Vaera” cried Aemond as he reached for his wife.

“Our boy. They took our boy” wailed Vaera as she clutched Aemon’s body.

“JAEHAERYS” screamed Aegon as he collapsed to the floor beside Helaena who was weeping silently as she held the body of their son against her.

“T-They came through the wall” whispered Alicent.

“What?” gasped Aegon.

“We-We couldn’t stop them. T-They killed the boys” sobbed Alicent.

Aemond’s head snapped towards the gap in the stone wall and without a second thought he withdrew his sword and took off down the passageway with Ser Criston following close behind.

How long had it been? Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

Vaera had lost all comprehension of time, as she held the body of her son against her.

The sounds of muffled voices never registering as they passed by like the wind.

Vaera refused to let go of Aemon, she held him close, her lips pressed to his cold forehead.

“V-Vaera” whispered Aemond as he crouched down in front of her.

When had he returned?

“He needs his blanket. He’s cold” muttered Vaera as she rocked back and forth.

“We’ll get him one” replied Aemond, his hands shaking.

“Blue”.

“W-What?” asked Aemond.

“He doesn’t like green. He likes blue” whispered Vaera closing her eyes.

“Ok, I’ll make sure he gets his blue blanket”.

An unknown amount of time seemed to pass before a blue blanket was slowly handed to Aemond.

“I’ve got his blanket” said Aemond softly.

“C-Can you wrap him up. You always did it better than me” murmured Vaera.

Aemond nodded slowly and unfurled the blanket. He held out his hands, waiting for Vaera to let him take Aemon.

“I-I don’t want to let him go”.

“I-I know” replied Aemond.

Vaera placed a gentle kiss on Aemon’s forehead before she passed him to his father.

Aemond couldn’t help the sob that escaped him as he took Aemon in his arms, his sweet little boy was really gone.

After placing a kiss on his little boys forehead. Aemond gently placed him on his blanket and wrapped him up. Taking extra care to make sure it was done the way Aemon liked.

“W-We need to let the silent sisters prepare him” whispered Aemond.

“C-Can you take him” replied Vaera.

“Yes” said Aemond softly as he clutched his sons body in his arms and rose from the ground.

As he carried his son’s body, Aemond couldn’t help but notice how light he seemed. Such a tiny little thing, now gone from this world.

Aemond tightened his grip on his son’s body as he walked wordlessly through the corridors. Maids and servants alike silently bowing their heads in respect for the fallen Prince.

Vaera watched as the silent sisters prepared and wrapped Aemon’s body.

“N-Not his head. H-He doesn’t like the dark” cried Vaera desperately.

The silent sisters obeyed and left Aemon’s head free of the wrappings, once they were finished, they bowed respectfully and left Vaera and Aemond alone with their son.

“M-My boy. My sweet boy” sobbed Vaera as her bloodstained hands reached forward and she fell to her knees in front of Aemon’s body.

Aemond moved to sit behind Vaera, and he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around his wife’s chest, holding her tightly and keeping her grounded while she cried.

“H-He’s gone. Our sweet boy” gasped Vaera between the sobs that wracked her chest uncontrollably. So uncontrollably that Vaera could no longer speak at all. Could do nothing but cry, face dripping tears and snot whiles she struggled to breathe, clinging to her husband like her life depended on it.

Long minutes passed, stretching on into an hour. Longer. How long, Aemond didn’t know. All he knew was that his wife never stopped clinging to him. Never loosened her grip. Even when Aemond started sobbing himself, their shared overwhelming pain near unbearable as they mourned the loss of their son.

The entirety of the Red Keep had been put on high alert, no one in and no one out unless it was absolutely necessary.

The goons that had murdered the Princes had been apprehended by Ser Criston and Aemond in their attempt to flee and were now languishing in the black cells.

Aegon had demanded that they be tortured for information, and despite their initial stubbornness both Blood and Cheese began to crack as the torture intensified.

They named Daemon as the one who had arranged for the assassination of both the young Princes, in revenge for the deaths of Visenya and Lucerys.

It was claimed that the news of Viserys death and Aegon usuring the Throne had sent Rhaenyra into early labours and after hours of agonizing pain, she had delivered a stillborn deformed half human half dragon monstrosity named Visenya and after the death of Lucerys, Rhaenyra had gone mad with grief and ordered Daemon seek retribution for her fallen children.

Vaera and Helaena had barely spoke a word since Aemon and Jaehaerys had died. Both mothers lost to their grief.

Whilst Alicent took to caring for Jaehaera and Maelor. Vaera wouldn’t let Rhaegar out of her sight and would scream like a banshee if anyone dared to try.

Rhaegar was also suffering in the wake of his twins death. He had nightmares and would only sleep if he was sandwiched between Aemond and Vaera. During the day, he would hover around his mother, clinging to her skirts as she sat staring into space.

Even though he was grieving for his son and nephew, Aemond had to remain strong, yet inside he was a wreck. He kept waking in the night to ensure that Rhaegar was still breathing, and taking care of Vaera was immensely difficult.

He had to force her to eat and drink, he even had to force her to use the toilet and bathe. It broke his heart to see his once bright wife, withering away into nothing and Helaena wasn’t any better.

It turned out that she had been forced to chose between Jaehaerys and Maelor, and in her desperation she had chosen Maelor only for Blood to slit Jaehaerys’ throat instead and now she couldn’t bring herself to look at any of her children.

The funerals for Jaehaerys and Aemon were a sombre affair.

Otto had wanted to show the people of Kings Landing the work of ‘Rhaenyra the cruel’ but Aemond knew it was not only in poor taste when the people were without food and starving but neither Vaera nor Helaena would manage it.

So, the funerals were as private as they could be. Although whispers of ‘Rhaenyra the cruel’ were heard across the realm. The ruthless Black Queen who had her own grandson and nephew murdered in order to secure her own claim to the Iron Throne.

As Vaera wouldn’t allow Rhaegar out of her sight, the boy attended the funeral of his brother and cousin. Tears silently running down his pale cheeks as he gazed at the body of his lost twin.

Aemond’s heart had been in his mouth when his sweet Rhaegar requested to say goodbye to his brother.

So, Aemond lifted his son into his arms and took him over to the funeral pyre.

“Geros ilas lēkia” whispered Rhaegar (Goodbye brother).

Aemond squeezed his eye shut at the sound of Rhaegar’s sweet voice.

“Avy jorrāelan” said Rhaegar sweetly (I love you).

Rhaegar suddenly lurched forward and gently placed his stuffed dragon teddy on his brother’s wrapped body.

“So, you’re not alone” muttered Rhaegar as he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his brother’s forehead.

“Come on sweet boy” said Aemond as he carried Rhaegar back to his mother.

Off in the distance where Vhagar nested, Aemond could hear the sorrowful cries of a hatchling dragon.

Aemon’s dragon Brightfyre had been devastated by his bonded riders death and spent days screeching and shrieking before he too succumbed to the grief and now spent his days coiled with Valaerys or Vhagar.

It was decided that Cannibal would burn Aemon and Sunfyre would burn Jaehaerys.

All through the funeral ceremony, Vaera hadn’t left Aemond’s side. Her fingers entwined with his as the High Septon performed the proper funeral rights.

When it came time for Cannibal to burn Aemon, there was a moment where Aemond didn’t think Vaera would be able to give the necessary command.

But after a few moments of silence.

“Dr-Dracarys” said Vaera loudly.

Aemond tightened his grip on Vaera’s hand as he felt her shaking.

“Dracarys” urged Aegon.

Both dragons let out a mournful noise before their maws opened and the flames enveloped both Princes bodies.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x original female character

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 2 years

Text

Debt To Be Paid - Aemond Targaryen

i thought, what if I was in this situation what would I do? I thought, maybe if I had balls of steel I could give Aemond what he wanted. That sprouted this fucked up piece of fiction. Basically Reader replaced Lucerys

Warnings: body horror, mutilation, eye loss, sadism, blood, pain kink, knife kink, incest, noncon grinding, think that's it? If it wasn't obvious, MINORS DNI. There's not really smut but it's still very explicit.

1.7K Words🤙🏻

part two can be found here

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait!”

You froze as you heard that familiar low voice call out, a fearful chill running down your spine that made you hesitant to turn back around to face him.

You knew this had all been a mistake, ever since you arrived. As soon as you saw the she-dragon, Vhagar, sitting outside the walls of Storm’s End, you knew that you should’ve hopped back onto your hatchling of a dragon and went back home to Dragonstone. But you couldn’t do that, not when your mother counted on you for your support. You had to see this through.

But the Lord Borros had all but humiliated you, insulting you and your mother, the rightful Queen. And your uncle, the prince, decided that your failure in gaining an ally for your mother wasn’t embarrassing enough. No, he saw this chance for revenge right there in front of him and couldn’t help himself but to take it. So, reluctantly, you turned back to face your uncle to anxiously await whatever he now had in store for you.

Your uncle as always looked at you in something akin to disgust, like you were a bug that needed to be squashed underneath his boot. But there was always a rage right behind that disgust, just below the surface, almost invisible to an untrained eye. Ever since you took his eye all those years ago, you had become well accustomed to his gaze fixed on you whenever you both were in the same vicinity. You hadn’t seen him since that last feast with the late King, clearly still sore and vengeful, insulting you and your brothers calling you bastards. Something was different then, an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite place even when you tried. A look he had given you, especially when you tried fighting back after he pushed your older brother to the floor that night. You had quickly given up trying to understand your uncle, he was too mysterious and aloof to understand.

“Princess Strong.” Prince Aemond spoke with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, keeping his predatory gaze fixed on you as you took a couple steps forward with a scowl. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

You scoffed quietly, your heart hammering in your chest before you spoke your mind foolishly. “The throne was already stolen, my prince,” Usurper, “by your family. If you are looking for a fight, I’m afraid I must decline. I came here as a messenger only.”

Prince Aemond sneered, a growl bubbling in his throat at your insolence, also amused that you think you would last even a second into a fight. You probably wouldn’t even be able to unsheathe your sword in time. “No,” His voice boomed, reaching up and removing his eyepatch, revealing the bright blue sapphire in his empty eye socket. “I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes almost immediately glazing over in fear, but you didn’t allow anyone to see it. You held your head up high as your uncle removed his dagger from his sheath, tossing to the floor that slid halfway to where you stood. “One will serve. I would not blind you.” He hummed in amusement at your shocked expression. “I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

You looked down at the knife in terror, your hands shaking at the thought of going through with it. You had prayed to the gods every night that this wouldn’t be your penance. You had hoped your guilt and broken nose that night would have been enough. The Queen Alicent had almost had her justice that night as well if it weren’t for your mother protecting you. Maybe this was always meant to happen, maybe this was the gods telling you that it was finally time to pay the price for seriously harming a member of your family. You knew you couldn’t hide from your guilt forever, you knew you couldn’t keep getting away with it. What would happen if you ran away yet again? It would just keep prolonging the inevitable.

“I will have your eye or your life, dear niece.” Aemond growled dangerously.

You took a deep breath as you made your decision, trying to clear your mind as you took the short steps it took to reach the dagger on the concrete flooring. With shaking hands, you picked up the weapon, seeing your fearful expression reflecting back at you through the steel, mocking you. You pressed your fingertip to the pointed edge, gasping as the edge easily pierced through your skin, letting you know just how sharp it was. In theory, it might’ve been relatively easy…

You looked back up at your uncle, eagerly watching your every move in anticipation, his expression almost in shock that you were actually considering it. Growing up, you were taught how to fight, how to build up your pain tolerance, but holding the heavy blade in your hand, you didn’t know if you could actually go through with it by yourself. Before you could think over it any longer, you held the dagger outstretched to prince Aemond, holding the blade part in your hand. “I took your eye, uncle, it would only be fair if…” You shuddered, tears coming to your eyes, “if you were to take mine yourself as well.” You felt like you were going to throw up. You couldn’t believe you were about to allow this to happen.

Aemond’s eye lit up, his sapphire glimmering in the candle light and occasional lighting strike, and you swore you could almost see a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

You fought the urge to step back and run away as your uncle stalked towards you, looking at you as though he could easily devour you whole. You shivered as he took the blade from your hand, his skin very briefly brushing against yours. He looked at the blade for a moment with a small smirk. “Although I would’ve rather been entertained seeing you take your own eye, I imagine this would be more cathartic. As you said, niece, it’s only fair.”

You almost let out a scream as prince Aemond grabbed a hold of your shoulder tightly, pulling you close to him, almost touching your chest to his, his eye looking down at you menacingly, savoring your expression and saving it to memory. “As I am a man of mercy, I will allow you the choice of which eye you would prefer to lose, princess.”

“Whichever may please you, uncle.” You stuttered tearfully, not having the strength to be ashamed of crying in front of him.

“You took my left eye, so I shall take yours as well.”

You took hold of Aemond’s arm that was holding onto your shoulder tightly, the other grabbing onto his thick coat, attempting to brace yourself for the oncoming pain you were going to feel at your uncle’s hand. You must’ve surprised him because he stared down at your hands for a moment before looking back into your eyes, his gaze heavy lidded and almost sultry. You would’ve felt the stiff tent in his pants pressing against you if it weren’t for the coolness of the sharp steel lightly pressing against your cheek.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since that night, dear niece. Forgive me for wanting to savor this as long as I can.” Aemond couldn’t keep in the low groan as he stared at your tearstained face; the whole world falling away and leaving just the two of you together, uncle and niece, enemies, and a debt to be paid.

Aemond’s hand on your shoulder traveled up to hold the side of your face, his thumb gently rubbing away a fallen tear, lifting his dagger up to the corner of your lower lid, licking his lips before pressing in harshly.

As you stared in the face of destiny, there was a moment where you thought you would try your best to hold in your screams, but as soon as you felt the blade press into your eye, all those thoughts went out the window and were crushed by the excruciating pain you were now experiencing. Aemond grinned as you didn’t hold back, screaming and sobbing as he cut into your eye socket, careful and not wanting to completely ruin the eye itself.

Your hands were holding on and digging into Aemond’s coat with a vice grip, unable to control yourself, your body going into fight or flight survival mode and trying its best to get away from the danger. But Aemond was strong, much stronger than you, and it almost seemed like he had no difficulty keeping your head in place to continue mutilating you. It was the most pain you’ve ever felt in your entire life, nothing could compare. Nothing. It was searing, blinding. You couldn’t see anything, even the eye that was still intact wasn’t retaining its vision. You couldn’t even feel anything else. You couldn’t feel the thick, hot blood running down your face. You couldn’t feel Aemond’s hand on your face. You couldn’t feel the rest of your body, your hands were numb and tingling from how hard they were holding on to your uncle. You couldn’t feel Aemond’s hard on that was subtly grinding against you as you screamed and cried. You were thankful you didn’t eat anything before flying to Storm’s End or else it would definitely be coming up.

You heard Aemond let out a prolonged groan then a short breathy laugh as your eye finally came free, slimy blood coating the tiny organ that was cupped gently in his palm. Even when it was over, you felt no relief, all that was left was pure white hot pain. You didn’t even register that you were being held up by your uncle with one hand after the deed was done, your legs entirely gave out from underneath you and you craved the sweet release of death just to be rid of the pain. You weren’t even holding onto Aemond anymore, your arms hanging loosely by your sides.

Only then your vision came back, but now only half of it.

You saw Aemond holding up your left eye in pride, staring at your blood and sweat covered face with an almost impressed expression. “Are…” You tried to speak, but it came out mumbled and shaky, “are you pleased now, u-uncle?”

Prince Aemond smiled. “Oh, my dear niece, more than you could ever know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

my first thought was: Storm's End but make it romantic cause I'm mentally ill...if you can even call what I wrote romantic🙈 (it was to me cause like i said, i'm mentally ill)

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon spoilers #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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