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muzzledhoundsheart · 3 months

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❧❧❧THE BEAST INSIDE YOUR WALLS❧

Pairing ❧ dark!Gwayne Hightower x (f)reader

CW ❧ dubcon, blood, fingering (f), oral (m), p in v sex, m!dom, possible typos

AN ❧ I hope you guys enjoy this one! I had a pretty hard time with deciding if I’m gonna post it or scrap it and work on it another time or completely rewrite it but I think it pulled itself together pretty well in the end. Also sorry for any typos of any kind, I edit everything myself and English is my second language so some stuff slips to the cracks real fast (always makes me want to die when I see it ahaha)

Fog hung thick over the trees, weaving itself round the crowns, through every branch hanging like shawls. Or more like nooses, Gwayne thought to himself. Him and his men rode through the forrest for hours now, seemingly without an end in sight. At every corner they rounded they found the same scenery, all blurring into one. While he enjoyed the status of being a knight, the glitz and glam of tournaments, young ladies fawning over him and men respecting him. He hated days like these. The sweat in his armor running cold down his back, the uncomfortableness spreading further, seeping deep into his very bones.

„I see a village there! “, one of his men shouts. Oh, thank the gods he thought. Finally, some rest. He just hopes to find a good meal, a warm bed and a pretty whore to end the day well with. He could see in his men that they were all thinking the same, or at least some variation of it. They were so close they could almost make out the houses now, when suddenly, a shrill scream echoed through the Forrest. The horses were on high alert and almost knocked their riders off. It wasn’t just a scream of fear, it ran much deeper. The men looked to Gwayne unsure of how to proceed. „Sounds like a fucking banshee.“, a shorter roundish man spat with a heavy drawl. „My father used to warn me about them screams in Forrests, they’re luring you in to skin you alive.“, another one said. „Oh horseshite it’s probably just a kid who ran off and now can’t find their way back, serves ´em little cunts right.“ What a troop of heroes, Gwayne thought to himself.

He took a deep breath and stifled a sigh, „You go on, I shall see if the forrest nymphs truly are calling for me.“ He said with a boyish smirk adorning his lips. The men looked uneasy but accepted his order and started their journey anew. Just as Gwayne was about to turn around to ride deeper into the thicket again he heard another blood curdling scream. His brows furrowed and he gripped the reigns tighter, dashing towards the noise. The closer he seemed to get, the colder his sweat ran down his neck, his thoughts running rampant stringing together gruesome paintings of violence and agony. Another scream, and it sounded awfully close. He drew his sword and the muscles in his pale back pulled taught, shifting underneath his freckled skin and sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. The sight before him was, however, not what he imagined.

A young woman was desperately struggling to climb up a mangled tree, she gained some footage and pulled herself up another branch, pained grunts leaving her mouth and blood dripping from her arm and side — drip drip dripping down from the wounds running down to her naked toes. Beneath the tree stood two wolfs, blood and saliva dripping from their snouts, bubbling around the corners making them look rabid, hungry — starving. The wolves didn’t even care about the deafening noise the hooves of his humongous stallion made, no, they were set on her, having already had a taste of her sweet flesh, eager for more.

Gwayne ceased the opportunity and aimed for one of the wolves, within a few strives he was close enough to slash the back of one of them, their head hanging on by what little sinew the sword didn’t quite reach. This, finally, caught the other wolf's attention and he growled at Gwayne, ready to tear into his horse, pull him off and rip him apart, piece by bloody piece. Gwayne was faster though, stabbing the wolf in it’s side on one swift motion, his sword cutting into the wolf like velvet, releasing a gut-wrenching whimper, the wolf folded into itself while blood spurted out of it’s wound and snout, until his eyes glossed over, and his labored breathing stopped. It was almost beautiful how such such a beastly being perishes so pathetically, he thought, almost forgetting about the woman still hanging desperately onto the rotting branches of the tree in front of him. „My Lady... I’m afraid the branch will break soon.“

It took some time for the woman to realize what just happened. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her chest heaving up and down heavily. Taking in her appearance, now being close enough to do so, Gwayne noticed how she was dressed, a white thin linen dress, almost looking like a nightgown, with nothing else covering her shivering form. Furthermore, the dress was ripped in multiple spots and her blood blossomed into the fabric, spreading like a visceral garden over her attire. She held her side with one hand and Gwayne noticed that her dress was ripped around her breast as well, it laid openly naked above the hand holding her side. What a lucky man Gwayne was. „Thank- thank you Ser. By the gods thank you.“ She breathed out, her voice sounding hoarse and rough. Gwayne dismantled his horse, hiding his almost perverse smile behind this mundane display.

He approached the tree and held out his hand for her. Standing tall in front of it, he was sure the woman could reach him if she crouched down. „Let me help, my Lady.“ He said in the softest voice he could muster in this moment, his lips stretching into a friendly, warm smile. If only she knew. The woman was still apprehensive but did eventually crouch down and let him aid her in climbing back down. When she was on a brach low enough, Gwayne cupped the back of her knee and hauled her into his arms. She let out a surprised yelp and blinked up at him through thick lashes. The woman was caked in grime and blood, sweat clung to her body like second skin, but she was beautiful, nonetheless.

„You’re all good now.“, he said, slowly lowering her to the ground while steadying her. Her hand went to her torn dress, trying to hold it up to hide her bareness. Before words could leave her mouth, he already unbuckled his cape and draped it around her shivering form. „What a predicament you were in ,my Lady. If you let me, I would take you to the nearest village to have a healer look at your wounds.“ He said not letting his gentle hold on her shoulders go. His fingertips slowly wandered up and down the familiar fabric in a soothing matter. „I would owe you my life, Ser.“, she haughtily breathed out.

He was sure she’s lost enough blood to barely be conscious, especially now that the adrenaline is steadily leaving her body. His face contorted into a look of concern, „I might have to look at your wounds now and tend to them as best as I can. Forgive me but you’re looking awfully pale, my Lady.“ She let out an amused sound at that. „You might as well do it now, yes.“ she was swaying, on the cusp of fainting. Gwyane knelt down in front of her, slowly bunching up her skirt. The wound in her side wasn’t as bad as he initially thought, he got up again and assured the woman that he was only getting one of his satchels off his horse. He then proceeded to clean her wounds, dressing them in cloth and sending her assuring looks through his copper lashes. The woman felt like she was dreaming, being saved by such a beautiful kind man.

He looked like a knight from a fairytale, his face was carved out of ivory, his eyes like the stormy waters that ran through the land and his copper hair falling around his cheekbones framing his pretty face. He got up again, wiping his hands on a cloth, discarding it after by dropping the bloodied cloth back into the satchel. „That should do it for now.“, he said. The woman was still dazed and looked at him as if he was a prince of the realm. „I cannot thank you enough.“ She expressed grasping tighter onto his cloak. „ Not to worry, my Lady, i have to wonder however you got yourself in this situation though.“. She looked flustered and diverted her eyes. „I was visiting my brother to take care of him, the cold got to him and i was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive on his own. I thought taking the route through the forrest would get me home quicker, how foolish of me.“

Foolish indeed Gwayne thought to himself, stifling a grin. „I could offer you a bed for tonight as my thanks, Ser.“, her eyes lit up saying that, and Gwayne almost felt bad for how genuine she looked. It was rare to find someone seemingly believing in the simple kindness of man nowadays. He also wondered if she knew just what she implied with her statement, well he surely wouldn’t mind if that was what she was thinking of. Just the thought brought a shiver down his skin straight to his cock, it has been so long since he got to indulge himself after-all. „I would happily accept, my Lady“ he took her small shivering hand in his and brought it to his lips. She looked like she was about to faint again and before she started swaying, he decided to steady her with his arm around her waist. The woman stole many glances at him, and his breast swelled with pride — arrogance. He was sure he got kissed by Lady Luck tonight.

He helped her mount his house and put her legs over his, one arm caging her in, so she „will be safe with him.“. They started trotting towards the small village nearby, her directions were surely helpful, making them arrive sooner than he anticipated.

They rode through a small marketplace coming across some of his men pointing him out to what seemed to be their bedwarmers for the night. Shouts of his heroism were heard, and the roundish man yelled „Not a banshee then ,aye?“. The woman then led him the way to a small hut. Nothing special really, made of wood and stone and mud. It looked solid — just — with greenery not only surrounding it but winding itself into every nook and cranny. They unmounted and she, still shaky on her feet, let him inside the small hut.

His heavy boots stomped down on the creaky floor as he took his surroundings in; it was…homely. Certainly homely. A small kitchen met a big cozy bed draped in different fabrics and knit blankets. Books and various other items were strewn about, but it looked like it had a system at least. „You may take the bed and I will get you something to freshen up.“. Gwayne looked to her and swiftly grasped her wrist „I would rather claim my reward now, my Lady“. „I’m not sure what you mean.“ Her heartbeat quickened; she couldn’t have been so blind could she? He towered over her taking steps forward until both reached one of the wooden clad walls. She felt as if her flesh would freeze off, needles and pins spreading all over her body, her stomach in knots. „Remove my cloak“. All kindness vanished from his voice. She was staring at him, frozen in time. Cold cold cold fear encompassing her. „Now.“ he almost growled.

Shaking hands reached up to open the claps, the thick fabric pooling around her still bare and bloodied feet. His eyes raked over her form, half naked and quivering before him. So delicious. His hand reached out to her, making her flinch away hard. This made his cock twitch, hard and wanting in his breeches. He moved quick and ripped the already torn dress to complete shreds. The cloth fell off her breasts entirely and he could almost make out her rapid heartbeat through her chest. The quick — thump thump thump — spurring him on even more.

Gwayne’s hands found solace on her ribcage, his calloused thumbs slowly tracing the underline of her breasts, making her nipples pebble. The motion was almost soothing but her it felt like a predator seizing up his prey, installing fear in it and calculation their next move. She didn’t dare to breathe which he took note of — it made him chuckle. A deep rumble coming out of his chest. „I wont hurt you“.

Liar.

She knew he would, they both did. His hands now cupping her breasts, clutching them tightly, pinching and pulling at her flesh. Small gasps left her mouth and she never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. He dipped his head to her level, copper strands kissing his cheekbones. His right hand followed her clavicles, up the tendons on her neck and settled on her throat. The pressure applied made her lightheaded. „Why don’t you sing my praises, huh, your great hero deserves more than this don’t you think?“ She wanted to bite that smug smirk off his face.

It felt like he could sense what she thought, and he chose to attack first. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into her mouth and he tasted every part of her. When they finally parted, her breaths were labored, chest heaving and saliva coated the bottom of her face, strings of it connecting them like a wet spider web. He kissed her again and again, growing more aggressive with each one, biting and pulling at her lips and tongue until she tasted the iron now coating their lips. She was ashamed of herself for how wet she’s gotten. Wetness slowly running down the inside of her thighs, as she felt how hard and wanting Gwayne has gotten himself.

While Gwayne was biting and shucking at the juncture of her throat he ripped the last shreds of her gown hanging around her hips apart, leaving her completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Goosebumps littered her body as the cold air hit her skin, which was a welcome distraction from Gwayne’s searing touch, dipping lower and lower. He reached her mount and and slid a single finger between her folds. His lips breathed hot against her cheek „What a tight little cunt“, he moaned as he sunk his finger deep inside her. She wanted to run away, call for help and have him beheaded, but in this moment the coil winding itself in her stomach craved him to keep going, to do more. And do more he did. Another finger slipped into her — two long slender fingers stretching her tight wetness out in fluid motions. His paced steadily increased and he looked like he was about to rip her chest open with his teeth. Her breast heaving into his face and sweat slowly dripping into his face. He licked a long stripe up her artery and bit down, just hard enough to force a strangled groan out of her bruised lips.

She was burning from the inside out from shame — it felt so delicious, being mauled alive. Just as she was about to completely lose herself in the pleasure, he withdrew his hand. „Get on your knees“, he commanded breathless and harsh. Her eyes refocused on him, and he sunk down, big, clouded eyes fixed on the flushed head of his cock. She didn’t even notice that he partially undressed himself. „Open“, he said as his thumb pressed down on her plump lower lip and hand wrapping around her throat again, much tighter this time. He ran the tip of his leaking cock along the edge if her teeth, finding great amusement in it. Even if she were to bite him, he could snuff her out in seconds. „Don’t tell me you don’t know what to do now, you’re definitely not a maiden,“ She was — but he didn’t need to know. She’s heard enough tales from friends and the brothel workers scurrying about the market when they found the time.

Light-headed form the lack of oxygen and limited in her movement she began running her tongue along his cock. Up and down the head, following a prominent vein slithering along the underside of it. Gwayne groaned and pulled her in by the throat. She sputtered around him, his cock reaching deep into her throat now. He left her no time to catch a breath, moving his hips in a fast irregular rhythm. „That’s it, take it“, he breathed out. His cock slipping in and out her mouth faster with every thrust. Spit dripped down his sack as cradled her head against his pelvis bone. Her eyes rolled up her skull and he swore he would have a corpse around his pulsating cock any minute now. Showing some mercy, he released her, and she gulped down deep breaths of air — coughing them right back out again. Her teary eyes looked longingly at his cock, bobbing and pulsating still, thick drops of precum dripping onto the hard wooden floor. Before she could do much of anything he leaned down and seized her by her claves. Pulling her, with her back on the floor now, closer to him.

His hands pawed at her thighs and trapped fistfuls of plush fat for leverage. Her lower half hung in the air, and he had a full view of her creaming cunt. Gwayne halted for a short moment, asking himself if he wanted to taste her first, lick up the viscous fluids of her drooling cunt, dripping onto the floor. He discarded the idea and chose to position his cock at her entrance. In one harsh thrust he was inside of her, setting a brutal pace. The small hut was filled with wet slapping noises, moans and groans. Gwayne fucked her as if he intended on killing her. Her body like putty in his string hands and her cunt growing hotter and tighter around his swollen cock. He crouched down lower and threw one of her legs over his shoulder, rutting so deep into her she swore she would never be able to feel whole again without his cock in her. Her desperate whimpers turned into incoherent screams. They ran down deep into Gwayne’s bones and spurred him on as he felt his release coming. His final thrusts were brutal, kissing her cervix and bruising her pelvic bone in it’s wake. He grabbed her throat again and squeezed as his sack tightened and he released hot spurts of thick cum into her womb. They both stayed like this for many moments. He could still feel her walls convulsing around his softening cock, her soft hands laying atop his around her throat, wordlessly begging to release her. When he did, her body fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs still open, arms crossed above her head and her wounds weeping again. Sweat, blood and cum dripping out of her and mingling into a visceral painting of lust. Gwayne brushed his damp hair out of his face and slowly redressed. How he wished to paint the scene before him to take with him out on the battlefields. Alas — he grabbed his sword and pointed it down at her belly, slowly tracing a line up between her breasts and resting below her chin. „I don’t want any red-headed bastards running around, make sure to take care of it.“. „I-i will, don’t worry.“ He nodded curtly and threw her one last glance before leaving her hut. Her heart was still beating like a rabbit running away from a pack of wolves. She hoped the beast would trace her scent and find his way to her again soon.

#hotd x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #hotd smut #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #gwayne hightower #smut #gwayne hightower smut

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

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Things Modern Hotd Characters Do.

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Character: Jacaerys Velaryon, Aemond Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra Targaryen. (X reader)

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Literally just some random thoughts that came into my head, and it’s a modern au.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: lromantic, short, cute and fluffy.

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

✬—Jacaerys Velaryon

You already know my boy is a jock of some sort, it’s a given. So he gives you his jersey to wear and I see him in hockey.

He also is the type of guy to at first watch you when you are around and at first he is shy about it and tries not to get caught. Then it’s just known to everyone that he is admiring you, like a drooling dog.

Gets shy when his friends bring it up.

You think you’re allowed to drive? Nope, his passages princess (no matter the gender)

I also see him proposing as soon as you both graduate, or when you both are still in your early 20s.

✬—Aemond Targaryen

Leather jacket. I don’t make the roles and has a motorcycle- The person the school fears after sending a kid to the hospital in middle school.

Before the relationship he talks to you at some points in the day, and then people literally stay away from you because they are scared of Him. So no bullies coming your way.

Takes you shopping because he likes to see you happy, and not the best at expressing his lives. So gifts and acts of service are his love language.

Keeps a photo of you in his wallet- don’t tell him I told you.

✬— Lucerys Velaryon the man I did this all for.

Watches all the Barbie movies with you while you play with his hair, and put it in weird and cute hairstyles.

One of the boys who is shy but will let you do anything to him. Like letting you putting makeup on him or carry you around.

He is so fucking shy but also a little shit. He’s so two faced. He will be pouting one minute and blushing like crazy when you kiss his cheek. And the next knocking you to the side and racing down the stairs.

Pulls pranks all the time that you didn’t talk to him for weeks but you can’t resist that cute face.

Walks everywhere while holding hands so you both don’t get separated 🥺

✬—Alicent Hightower

She’s the neighborhoods widow. And also on the watch council, so she is big into the community. She has been so sweet to you for years since you moved and always find yourself seeing her.

Goes out into her yard and gardens while watching you, not in a creepy way tho- just making a excuse to talk to you out of the blue.

Brings you sweets a lot and goes on coffee dates before dating.

Is so happy when you show her a real love relationship, and how you put her above everything. So she spoils you the same.

But keeps you away from her “stepdaughter” because she is afraid you’ll leave her.

✬—Rhaenyra Targaryen

Someone say mommy- the type of woman to buy you drink after making you flustered just by staring at you from across the bar. Like that cocky smirk of “i want to make you nervous” sexy smile you know?

Doesn’t let you think she is just a one time and dip. So she starts to send you gifts, to your work, house and almost anywhere. Texts you so much about going in dates.

You know kinda like a sugar momma for sure but loves you.

This girl will punch another woman for flirting with you and drag her by her hair- she’s so possessive.

Introduces you to her kids when you start dating because she wants you all to get along, and if you just immediately sweep them under your wing?

Already planning your wedding.

If you want more characters pls send them in the inbox.

#jacaerys targaryen #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenrya targaryen x reader #hcs #modern au #modern house of the dragon #Lucerys Velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader

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hisdarlingabsurdity · 3 months

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Aqua Regia

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem! Reader

Tw: HOTD content. MDNI

[Chapter 1] Chapter 2 Chapter 3

⊹ ࣪ ˖﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ｡° ⚔︎｡°⊹ ࣪ ˖

Summary: Jacaerys Velaryon admired you even before he met you. Sometimes, when he and the other Targaryen kids get scolded, your name would pop up for comparison. Though perhaps there is some truth to the servant gossips about you being secretly cruel beneath your perfection. His heart soared when you first met, then fell splat into the ocean of obscurity that is you, when you proceeded to ignore him whenever there were no adults around to prompt you back into your facade.

Jacaerys Velaryon often joined in on teasing Aemond. Although of indisputable lineage Aemond was, in everyone's eyes, inferior for not having a dragon of his own, at least only in that aspect. Whispers of him being outdone even by the Strong bastards are not as hushed as they ought to be. Aemond would hear them, as would Jacaerys. Jace wanted to believe that he was not a bastard. He had a dragon, unlike his silver haired half-nephew Aemond (who is also older than him). But evidences showed otherwise. Scrutinizing looks, cruel jibes, and not-so-hushed whispers loomed over him larger than any dragon. If he was to name this feeling, he'd name it after Balerion, The Black Dread.

He liked to believe that he teased his dragonless nephew out of a sense of superiority, it sounded better than what he denies even in himself. He wanted to belong. Simple as that. He was not superior in any way, in fact if it weren't for his grandsire's blind devotion towards his only daughter from his first queen, they'd all be exiled, if not dead.

He'd joined Aegon in his teasing, glad whenever he wasn't on the receiving end as he usually is, walked with Helaena in the gardens, and had a silent truce in the library with Aemond as they would read on the same table at times. He liked to think that Aemond understood, that they were both outsiders in their own home. But they never really had that kind of conversation.

Only one of the Targaryen-Hightower siblings confused him so.

You were, to everyone, the most enigmatic. Your twin Helaena was dreamy and odd, but not threatening in any way. Your other siblings were easily predictable. One knows exactly what Aegon would pick up first on the dinner table, and how he treats the women around him. Everyone knows Helaena did not do well in social situations, preferring to be left alone with her books or with the company of her tiny many-legged friends. Aemond, who wanted to be seen as mysterious, was most predictable. One knows exactly how he would react with the many different ways to prod anger out of him.

Aegon did not care for Jacaerys nor his brothers, too busy guzzling wine and pinching servant girls. Helaena certainly did not mind them, Aemond avoided them, while the adults were plainly disgusted by their existence. You, Jacaerys decided, was a pretender. Ignoring Jacaerys even when your brothers would notice him when they were in a cordial mood but acting like you were intimate friends when there are adults watching.

Jacaerys remembers vividly, the first time he met you.

They were busy hacking at training dummies. Aegon would only swing his sword in a half-assed manner. Aemond trained hard enough for both of them, anyway. You’d just arrived from Oldtown after receiving your youngest brother Daeron who was sent to be cupbearer to some Hightower Lord and train for his knighthood, and also replace you. No one at this time knows why you chose not to stay at Oldtown, especially when multiple sources say that the Hightowers adored you. ‘A prime example of purity, modesty and piety. The Mother and The Maiden in human form.’ they’d say.

“She probably got bored of being worshipped.” Aemond once said as a jest, although the apparent envy laced thickly in his voice suggested to Jacaerys that he was not in a jesting mood at all. Servants say, you were secretly cruel beneath the perfect exterior of your facade, while others see this as farce. You were only a child, not a masterful, conniving, opportunist. It is said that you were bound to command respect and adoration. Elder twin sister of Helaena, just as beautiful and gentle, but with a firmness and coldness no one would want to receive from you. But not cruel, no, you were just a little girl after all, your mother’s daughter.

You welcomed your brothers in an embrace the moment you stepped out of the carriage. Jacaerys had never seen you before as he was born the same year as Daeron and by then, you were already sent to Oldtown. He did not know how to act. Should he greet you? Welcome you back home? Would it be impertinent of him, seeing that he was practically a stranger to you? What IF you knew him, knew him as the bastard who was stealing your elder brother’s birthright as the eldest son of the king? He expected you to turn your towards him with a sneer, maybe even a jab at his illegitimacy. ‘So this is the bastard I keep hearing about.’ He could almost hear you say.

He did not expect you to engulf him in a hug as well. “No one ever told me my nephew's an adorable one.” You laughed. He found you agreeable, warm. You ruffled his hair into a mess, commenting about how soft it was, a stark contrast with your own brothers greasy hair. He watched as your eyes flitted over to the balcony overlooking the training yard. You raise your hand to greet the king, then pushed apart Aegon and Aemond who were crowding you as you make your way to finally see your father up close.

Jacaerys was delighted at the prospect of befriending you. You were exactly as described. Beaming like a saint, bright and kind. Your voice was soothing, eyes the deepest shade of violet, silver and gold hair almost reaching the back of your knees.

Until he received from you not the warmth of building friendship, but complete disregard.

He went up to you in the library, no one else was around save you and him. He had his favorite book in his arms, eyes wide and looking up at you, as he asked if he could read by your side. He only wanted to spend time with you, maybe get to know you better. Mostly to hear your gentle voice coo at him again as you did in the training yard. But you did none of these things. You only looked down at him and gestured at a seat. He ignored the change of attitude at first, then he could not help but let his smile waver as you stood up the moment he set himself down comfortably beside you. You did not even look back as you left.

You weren’t completely ignoring his existence, nor were you pretending that you were not able to perceive him like your other siblings would often do until they got bored. You were simply tolerating him. He was confused. Had he done something to earn your scorn? Did your brothers convince you that he wasn't worth your time?

He could do nothing but watch in the distance as you laughed along with your brothers, roamed the garden with Helaena, and rode your dragon, your absurdly long hair dancing in the wind. The way you walked entranced him. Graceful but powerful, confident. When you talk, you needn't raise your voice for people to listen to you. You were almost always composed. The minutest movements controlled, facial expressions practiced. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that you were being trained to be queen. But he suspected no man here would ever approve of the queen carrying around a blade now would they?

Jacaerys was confused when you chose to ignore him in the library, then he was absolutely livid when you acted as if you've done no such thing in front of his own mother. When you finally finished with your rounds in the castle, done catching up with old friends, you finally strutted up to Rhaenyra's chamber and knocked upon her door.

He was sitting on the floor, chin propped on the couch where his mother sat, with his younger brother Lucerys reclining with his head on Rhaenyra's lap. They all stood to greet the princess, and Jacaerys observed as his mother showered this two-faced Targaryen with praises and kisses, saying she was glad for her safe return home.

Lucerys, ignorant to the feelings of his brother, leapt at the chance to make friends with this newcomer and you were absolutely smitten. Or at least that's what you wanted them to think. You acted as if you had not left Jacaerys humiliated and alone in the library. At first, Jacaerys chalked it up to exhaustion, or maybe you just weren't in the best of moods. But it wasn't the only time you'd looked down at him, blankly taking in his bright expression only to douse him in cold indifference. Now you greeted him like you were great friends, hugged his mother as if you did not despise her own sons, and played with his younger brother as if you truly adored him, like you wouldn't just ignore him when no one was looking.

Jacaerys learned to dislike you. He disliked you more than he did your own brothers because they at least made it clear that they did not care for him, whereas you would take time out of your day to act sweetly towards him only to walk past him down the corridors as if you were strangers.

He disliked you but he did not hate you. How could he, when you had such a nice disposition. You trained hard with your sword, commissioned by the King's Hand himself, surprisingly. And you had a dragon so graceful and pale that you could see the web of fiery veins in its wings, rivaling Aegon's Sunfyre in terms of beauty.

He could not possibly hate you, especially when he realized (after nights of serious contemplation) that you did not owe him friendship. It was natural for you to dislike him for reasons he himself acknowledges. You weren't a two-faced schemer who delighted in humiliating him, you were simply doing your duty as princess, by being polite and not stirring trouble for the grown ups. You ignored him yes, but also never even mentioned his questionable parentage. He also took note of the fact that your brothers never even teased him about it when you were around.

⚔️ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ✩ ° ｡⋆ ⚔️⚔︎⚔︎⚔️ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ✩ ° ｡⋆ ⚔️

Jacaerys absolutely despised the situation he was in. Aegon was much taller, older and stronger than him, he could not possibly win. Ser Harwin said he could, and he did not want to disappoint him.

When he caught your eye as you descended from the stairs to watch, he wished for respite, not just for this gruelling session in training, but this life in general. He wished for the ground to just swallow him up whole.

In the second round, he lunged first, hoping to surprise Aegon to maybe make him stumble, but the older boy only kicked him to the ground, then continuously showered upon him a barrage of blows so hard it knocked the sword off his hand. He knew his arms would be hurting after this. Then tensions arise as Ser Harwin Strong pulled Aegon off of him and called Ser Criston Cole out for playing favourites, for neglecting the Princess Rhaenyra’s sons in their training. Words were thrown about. Jacaerys hardly knew how to react, he only pulled Lucerys aside as it became apparent that blows were about to be exchanged instead of words. You stood, hands clasped behind your back, eyebrow raised as you seemingly judged these grown men struggling to contain a single furious man. Jacaerys heard you snicker when Ser Harwin successfully landed a blow on Ser Criston, knocking him to the ground.

Both men were dismissed, Ser Criston to get his wounds looked at, and Ser Harwin by his own father. You looked up at where King Viserys sat, shaking his head. You sighed, hesitating, before you decided to approach your older brother.

“That was quite a spectacle, brother.” You did not need to turn around in order to know that Jacaerys was glaring at you. But when you did, you found his glare directed at the ground instead of you. You walk towards him and Lucerys, the younger one smiling up at you, while the older brother only looked confused. You stood beside him, bringing your hands to his head, then to your own. “We are…almost the same height. I’m only half a head taller. Spar with me.” The last part you directed at your own brother.

Aegon scoffed, the corner of his lip raised in amused incredulity. “What are you on about, sister?”

“Ser Triston Pole was right. You had the advantage of height. I, myself, am learning how to wield a sword. I’d like to see how well I’d do with a taller opponent.”

Aegon glanced at the Velaryon brothers, then at you. “Right. Why exactly are you even allowed to carry around a blade with you?”

“Why, are you afraid to be bested by a much shorter opponent? Someone almost as short as the Velaryon prince. Sure I’m a little bit taller, but I’m also a girl. That should lessen your…whatever is making you hesitate to do to me the same thing you willingly did to a member of your family."

Aegon let out a laugh, although it held no amusement now. “First of all.” He shook his head. “There is a lot to digest in everything you’ve just said.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t have problems regarding digestion if you drank less wine.”

Aegon bristled, a visible tightening in his jaw made Jacaerys nervous.

“You are absolutely right on one thing. You are a girl. And a girl has no business running around with a sword. Might cut yourself dear sister.”

You only rolled your eyes. “Queen Visenya herself used to run around with a sword. She even drew it once and slashed King Maegor across the cheek…to teach her brother a lesson.”

Aegon groaned, and pushed Aemond aside, although the boy wasn’t in his way at all. “You asked for this.” He said.

The fight made King Viserys lean towards the balcony. One might wonder why the King did not intervene and only watched as his beloved daughter took up a wooden sword against his eldest son, but one must note that the Princess might have already established a deal in order to be allowed a sword in the first place. One must also remember that it is the king's Hand, Otto Hightower himself that had a sword commissioned for the Princess, one she can wield with ease so that she could fight to defend herself. The Maiden of The Seven personified wielding a sword.

She was the one who did as Aegon had done to Jacaerys, and did not let up until Aegon was on the ground with his sword knocked out of his reach. It wasn’t a graceful fight. It included a lot of shoving, and shouting, with fiery words spat at each other. You got hit in the chin by the hilt of his wooden sword, it failed to knock you unconscious as Aegon had hoped but it did cause you to bite your tongue. You ignored the bleeding, although it unnerved you how easily he could’ve ended the fight in one blow. This only enraged you further, and the fight ended with Aegon’s defeat.

That night, you weren’t able to attend dinner, as Maesters fussed over your wound while Aegon gorged himself on your favorite food.

Back at their mother’s chambers, while waiting for their father Laenor Velaryon, Lucerys recounted what had happened on the yard that day. Jacaerys chose to keep silent, though he couldn’t help but speak up when Lucerys said something he did not agree with.

“She did it to see if she can fight someone taller than her, not to defend us or anything of the sort.”

Lucerys grimaced at him before turning to his mother. “He’s only mad because she prefers me over him.”

Jacaerys failed to suppress an absolutely offended look as his chin retracted, his eyes wide and almost bulging. “Excuse me?”

Lucerys only shrieked in glee at the bug-eyed look his brother gave him and so he did what he thought was best to do in such a situation and threw a couch pillow at Jacaerys.

Rhanyra chuckled at her sons lively energy as she grabbed Jacaerys before he could tackle Lucerys to the ground. She had been worried sick at what was bound to happen next, now that Ser Harwin Strong had snapped. Seeing her sons smile eased the heaviness in her chest.

“Honestly I’m not surprised she did that.” She simply said, more to herself than anything.

“What do you mean, mother?” Jacaerys asked.

Rhaenyra shifted, pulling at a part of her skirt that Jacaerys had sat on. “The Princess Enigmatic. She is called as such because no one ever knows what she is thinking, even what she likes, just her favorite food and even that may not even be true. At least that is what most people in the court say, even the servants.”

“I don’t understand. How can she be enigmatic? Everyone knows she is pious, devoted to The Seven. She rides her dragon a lot, she studies the histories and philosophy with disdain although she loves to read, and that she knows how to fight. That’s not so mysterious,” Jacaerys said .

Rhaneyra laughed. “She may not be a mystery to you, my dear. With such intensive knowledge about her.” Jacaerys clamped his mouth shut as his cheeks heated up.

“You see,” She continued. “Sometimes when people cannot or chooses not to understand someone, they see that person as the one at fault. The Princess is both a Hightower and a Targaryen. A dragon that people in her life have been trying to tame with the bonds of a religion she may not even truly believe in. She is called enigmatic because she adjusts herself according to the person she needs to please. And she’s learned in quite a short time how to wrap people around her fingers and how to balance the two sides of her heritage.”

She leaned close towards Jacaerys to whisper. “No one wants to say it aloud because doing so questions her devotion to The Seven, and Alicent Hightower will not have it. But you are right. People tend to exaggerate and in this case, they did so, too much to my liking. The Princess is not that much of a mystery nor does she try to pose as one. I would know. She spent more time with me than her own mother.” This she said with a bittersweet tone. “She is a wonderful girl who only wants the best for everyone, especially her twin. She is not enigmatic, she is loving.

Jacaerys looked down, deep in his thoughts, before nodding. “I understand.”

“I am glad my son chooses to observe for himself, rather than immediately believing what a person says about another.”

There was one mystery that Jacaerys wanted to be answered most. Why does she ignore him in private? His own formulated answers, although logical did not satisfy him because he cannot confirm them himself. And he did not want to ask his mother this one because it will surely make her think too much about things and might arrive at a conclusion that is far from truth. He nodded mentally at himself. Best not give his family more fuel to tease him, Lucerys was already unbearable and he won’t be able to take more without bursting into flames.

The next day, you still were not present for breakfast. Jacaerys wondered if your injuries were much more serious than he thought. For a moment, while pinching at his bread, breaking it apart and rolling it into tiny bits, he entertained the thought of visiting you. Perhaps, in the safety and privacy of your own quarters, he'd get to see the real you. He let his mind wander, daydreaming about how he'd go about asking you if he'd done anything to offend you, or if you truly were not interested in being friends with him, he'd apologize and tell you that he won't disturb you ever again. He glanced at his younger brother, Lucerys. Perhaps he could use him as an excuse to visit you. But then he won't be able to talk to you in private. He shook his head. He won't go. You were injured, he shouldn't disturb you from your rest.

For the first time that morning he raised his head, only to find that Aegon had been looking at him inquisitively. He felt his brows furrow before he could school his expression to that of indifference.

Aegon finally approached him the moment they reached a silent hall leading to where they kept the dragons. Dark stone walls seemed to be closing in, looming over him like Aegon, whose nose flared in anger, as he glared down at Jacaerys.

“Don't think you can be so smug just because of what happened yesterday.” He grabbed Jacaerys by the collar, forcing him to take a step back.

Lucerys, huffed, and without a word scampered off, running as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

Aegon watched him go, one eyebrow raised as he snorted. “Some brother you have. What, no honor among bastards?”

Jacaerys pushed his hands off with a grunt. “Get off me!” He exclaimed.

Aegon only laughed before stepping back.

“I don't even know what you're talking about.” Jacaerys said.

“You're lucky I did not break your jaw yesterday. Though I wish I did…running around smiling like a cocky little cunt.”

“I'm not even doing anything.” Jacaerys all but shrieked.

Aegon leaned down on him, “Well, then why would my sister, of all people, humiliate me for you? To defend you?” His voice had risen at that last part, making Jacaerys flinch.

“She did no such thing. You heard her yourself, she did it because she wanted to see—”

“See if she could take on a bigger opponent, lies, fucking lies.” Aegon waving a hand furiously around, before running it through his hair.

“Me and my sister…we fight a lot. But only when she thinks I've done something wrong to Helaena, or when I said something ‘hurtful’ to Aemond, or disobeyed mother, or the Lord Hand. But you?” He chuckled. “She had no reason to start a fight over you. You deserved that beating! And it wasn't my fault you were weak. I hate it. I hate it when she looks at me with those eyes.” he'd started to rant.

“You're making things more complicated than they actually are. It was a coincidence.” Jacaerys said, almost in a pleading way, not wanting to receive a second beating.

Aegon paused from his spiel. Then, he turned towards Jacaerys once again. “She's mad at me because of you. I knew it, you've been following her around like a lost puppy, styling yourself a poor, innocent ‘little prince’ bullied for allegations about your parentage knowing her heart would be soft towards pathetic little cunts like you. I knew you'd try to latch on to her like the pest that you are. Leeching off of anyone who showed even a sliver of kindness to you.”

Aegon was screaming now, right at Jacaerys, the unmistakable stench of alcohol wafting to the younger's face, and in his fury, he shoved Jacaerys hard against the stone walls causing the younger to cry out.

“You knew how fond she was of your mother and thought to gain her affection for yourself, you thieving little shit.”

Aegon stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet. A torrent of curses spilled from his lips before stopping abruptly. You stood, hands behind your back, face filled with utter disgust. You'd pulled the older boy off of Jacaerys without him even realizing you were there. Just how much did you hear?

Lucerys peeked at Aegon from behind you, his hands clutching at your skirt. Aegon suppressed a grimace at the sight of you shielding those two bastards from him, your own brother.

“Sister,” he exclaimed after a moment, smiling sheepishly. “I was just—” he swallowed nervously. “Doing as you said.

“Is this how a prince apologizes to a person he wronged?”

Aegon blinked, lips twitching. “You know what?” He started. “You were there yesterday, what happened was hardly my fault.”

Your glare softened. “I wasn't only referring to what happened yesterday, Aegon. But you're right. I'm going to have to discuss the matter with Ser Crispy Cone. You and I will talk later, in private. Now go, mother is looking for you.”

Aegon keeps his eyes on you without a word, before leaving. Not even sparing a glance to the younger boy he was terrorizing only moments ago.

You set your attention on Lucerys with a smile. “Thank you, Luke. For doing as I asked. Now, will you please go ahead of us and inform the maester that Jacaerys might be late for today's lesson? Just tell him the prince is with me.”

“My pleasure, princess.” Lucerys answered, too enthusiastically in Jacaerys’ opinion.

The two of you waited in silence as Lucerys’ footsteps were far enough away to be inaudible.

“My prince, you must allow me to apologize for my brother's behavior. What he has done to you is not fair. I am not talking only about yesterday, but about all of the times he hurt you.”

Jacaerys kept his eyes on the ground. “It's fine.” He said, straining to even force those words from his lips.

You approach him, slowly. “If…if he bothers you again, just tell me.”

You almost flinch as he finally looks up at you, glaring.

“Why are you still here?” He asks.

You knew why he asked such a thing, but you kept silent, sensing that he had more to say.

“No one is looking, Princess. Don't waste your time pretending to be cordial with me. So why, if I may ask, is the princess suddenly interested in my own affairs?”

You shook your head. “I am not ‘suddenly’ interested, I—” You caught yourself. You looked away, hesitating.

“It is understandable for you to hold contempt over me.” You said. “I've deliberately played with your feelings. I knew you wanted to be friends with me, at first. I couldn't help it, you see. Watching you become sullen everytime you are rejected is quite entertaining.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath, feeling the air he breathed fill his lungs, hoping the pressure would dull the ache in his chest as you smiled down at him. You were a sadist, he thought.

“But, really. I did it for you.”

He frowned, before giving you an incredulous look. Whatever excuse you would conjure to justify your actions, he was determined to shoot down.

“To openly express my fondness for my nephews will only give my brothers more reason to make your life a living hell. I had to ignore you and only acknowledge your presence when needed. Look at how my brother reacted when I defended you, for the first time, might I add.”

“Do not make it seem like you had no choice, you said so yourself that you found amusement in rejecting me, humiliating me.”

You paused as you listened, noticing his voice become heavy the more he bared to you with his feelings and thoughts, the direct consequences of your actions.

“What else could I have done but indulge my ego, seeing someone desire my friendship so desperately.”

“I was not desperate—”

“Like I said, prince. Indulgence. You'd be surprised at how often I decide to convince myself that I feel a certain way just to not feel disappointment at my own actions. I hurt you on purpose and you have no idea what your visible disappointment does to me. No idea that every time I have to keep myself from spoiling you with gifts and affection I die inside. And I have never, ever wanted to keep someone looking up to me as you do. Your family, I value. The way you see me, I wanted to keep pristine. I hold your whole family in high regard.” You paused, catching your breath and willing yourself to keep your voice level.

“I received so many ravens, read so many instances that my brothers gleefully reported to me, informing me of every cruel thing they did, and said to you. And when I arrived, you were nothing but a sweet, little thing. So I did my best to educate my brothers. Mother says it is not my duty to stop them from treating you and your brother the way they do but this isn't about duty. This is about family.”

You leaned down to his level to look at him straight in the eye and you knew he wanted to understand you.

“Now I know that it was a waste of effort. I should not have pretended to be indifferent when I was anything but. I will no longer play pretend with my brothers, and you. If you will let me. I am truly sorry, for treating you as I did. I was eager to be friends with you, just as I am friends with your mother. But my love for the princess Rhaenyra is…easily explained. She taught me everything I know, spent more time with me than my own mother. But to be friends with you—”

“With bastards, you mean.” Jacaerys cuts her off before he could stop himself, his emotions had loosened his tongue. A mistake one cannot truly blame a child for, even if his upbringing should have trained him in the art of rhetorics.”Allegedly,” he stammered.

“With the heirs that pushed my own brothers down the line of succession.” You clarified. Then with a shrug you added. “I care not about who gets to sit on the iron throne. I’ve no desire to worry needlessly about things I cannot control. But I still care for the people I love and I will protect them as best I can. I wish everyone cared less about it. Especially my family. My mother is convinced that Rhaenyra would immediately put us all to the sword without asking us to bend the knee to be spared. Makes me wonder if they ever were friends. But I digress.”

You paused, scanning Jacaerys’ face.

“Evidently, you are a smart boy. You see, my brothers need not be protective of Helaena, she’s rarely interested in anything other than books and bugs. They need not be protective of me either, I saw to that myself, but I know them. They’d jump at any chance to pummel you to the ground. Aegon literally nearly pummeled me to the ground when I confronted him about what he’d done to you. Granted, I all but asked for it.”

“What happened yesterday, I do not understand why you did such a thing, what point you were trying to make. Did you really just want to see how you’d do with a bigger opponent?”

You smiled as you leaned back. “Like I said back then, I wanted to teach him a lesson. I did not find it necessary for him to be so harsh to you. I mostly blame Cone, even though that may be a bit foolish of me, I still do. I'll have a talk with that man. You know, I only knew him for a couple of days and I already know he’s good at riling people up, shoving sticks up their arses so he wouldn’t be alone in being a bitter, bitter man.”

Jacaerys let out a burst of giggles, before clasping a hand on his mouth to muffle it. You laughed then, realizing that you spoke too freely.

“Forgive me, little prince. I should not have spoken so bluntly.”

“I think that was more than just blunt.” He whispered.

“Well, I won’t get in trouble if you tell no one.”

Jacaerys nodded. His earlier apprehensions vanished into thin air. “I, too, find Ser Criston Cole foul.”

You shook your head, giggling. “He is fetid, reeking of rotten self-righteousness.”

He pushed himself off the wall now, no longer shrinking into himself, eyes bright in mischief. “He is a repulsive git, a snake and a bad influence. He’s like a character in a novel where the author obviously set him up as this man that we’re supposed to root for, complete with a humble and tragic backstory, but instead just makes the readers pull out their hairs in frustration everytime he so much as opens his stinking mouth.”

You clutched at your belly, bursting into laughter. At that time. Both of you were thinking the same thing. ‘We should have done this sooner.’

Next chapter preview:

“Oh please.” Aegon scoffed, waving your words away. “Give it time, let them grow a little, puberty will do its job and show you their true colours. Seven Hells, I bet Jacaerys’s been wanking his tiny little cock to you at night,” he said, gesturing his closed fist back and forth.

Seething, you marched towards Aegon, intent on wiping the smirk off his face.

A/N: this fic will have three chapters, each one will be abt the development of their relationship during three different phases. Currently writing the next part. There will be smut so MDNI!!!

Might make this a "fix it fic" to change stuff like betrothal stuff and the you-know-what which happened in the books. So no Sara Snow here, if anything, I doubt she exists but I do wish she does so Cregan's not so alone, you know? If she does exist then I hope the show treats her well instead of just a random hookup episode like Mushroom made of her.

#I've no hate for ser crispy kreme #not my fault these characters do #or is it?#HOTD #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #lucerys velaryon #prince lucerys #rhaenyra targeryan #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen

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sl-ut · 17 days

Text

the dangers of our desires

(OH MY FUCKING GODDDDDDD why did i actually eat this up so hard (it could be actual hot garbage wrote this while stoned and dont have the patience to edit it)

pairing: stepmother!alicent hightower x targ!stepdaughter!reader

description: as if alicent didn’t have it hard enough, her youngest stepdaughter is returning to the capitol after spending most of her life in the vale, bringing with her more trouble than alicent could have ever imagined for herself.

warnings: stepmother alicent is most def a warning causssseeeee, alicent actually being so homophobic lmaooooo, some religious themes (guilt, trauma, sacrilege of a fictional religion), swearing, smut, unedited (VERYYYYYY, i got stoned and wrote this in one sitting so dont have high hopes for grammar), probably lowk kinkier than anything i’ve ever written but we gonna rock with it anyways, viserys traumatising yet another one of his kids, slight reader description (silver hair and purple eyes), sort of dub-con? (reader and alicent are both a lil tipsy in the end but they both want it so its fine)

words: 5.8K

date posted: 09/09/24

Alicent had been queen all of five months when her youngest stepdaughter was sent to the Vale, both as a political move recommended by her own father, the Hand, in order to restore a connection between the Crown and the Vale following the untimely death of Queen Aemma, and as an act of mercy the king, who wept each and every time he looked upon her little face–guilt and rage consuming him for what decision he had been forced to make in order to her to have survived her birth.

The day of her departure is engraved so firmly into every single one of their minds, the king’s blank stare, his eldest daughter’s red and tear-streaked face scowling as she barked at her father, the Hand, truly anyone to change their minds, Otto Hightower’s stern order for a Kingsguard to take the eldest princess to her rooms in order to put an end to the scene she had been causing. Alicent felt vacant that day, silently staring into the distance to avoid watching as the princess was loaded into the wheelhouse before it began pulling away and out of the Red Keep. Of course, the entourage that followed her was almost ridiculously large for a child so young, larger than any that had previously accompanied the king himself, but both Rhaenyra and her father had a hand in ensuring maximum protection for the youngest member of the royal family for her long journey. As difficult as Viserys found it to be around his infant daughter, he certainly did not ignore the fact that she was the last piece of his late wife, and he felt that she needed to be well protected because of her status and out of respect for her mother’s memory. The girl was eleven months old.

Alicent made an effort to stay as distant of the young princess as possible; lingering in the doorway as Rhaenyra visited her nursery, avoiding looking directly at her friend as she held the babe to her chest and wept; taking on her duties to the youngest princess as her stepmother from a distance, insisting that any matters of the princess that did not concern the Crown could be dealt with by the princess’s personal household. It was more of a blessing to the new queen that she was being sent away–she no longer would be plagued with guilt each time she shirked away from the motherless girl.

Rhaenyra and Alicent’s already fractured relationship only suffered further after Rhaenyra’s sister was sent to the Vale, especially since Alicent soon after gave birth to her own child with Viserys, and Rhaenyra seemed to be under the impression that Alicent was far more involved in her sister becoming a ward of Lady Arryn than she truly did in order to put her own newborn son ahead.

The first three years to follow were strangely calm in King’s Landing. Rhaenyra had married Laenor Velaryon, Alicent had given birth to three children of her own, and the realm was still, for the most part, at peace with itself. The youngest princess, last that Alicent had heard, had begun her early education, something that Alicent was supposed to be mostly responsible for arranging, though Alicent told Lady Jeyne in a letter that she trusted the lady’s judgement and faith to the Seven to see that the princess would receive a proper education befitting a Targaryen princess. Jeyne Arryn was a notoriously pious woman, often referred to by the crudest of Westerosi lords as the Maiden of the Vale; any noblewoman who takes an oath of chastity was to be noted with a nickname as such, Alicent noticed, though she’s certain that a man would be honoured and highly regarded for such piety.

The queen’s perspective of the young princess had shifted in the years to follow–amidst the chaos that Rhaenyra and even Alicent’s own children had been causing at court, Lady Arryn’s letters of praise for the princess were a relief for the Hightower woman, she was the only of the king’s children who was able to refrain from causing her grief, only giving her a touch of a headache by association every time that Rhaenyra fought with her over the decisions being made for her; she needed to have the finest of Valyrian tutors, needed to be as connected with her dragon as possible, deserved to have dozens of new dresses and other luxurious gifts sent to her on a semi-regular basis. If Alicent was not willing to spoil the princess for her mere existence, Rhaenyra was more than willing to do so herself, writing to her younger sister as if she were her own daughter that had been sent away. From the way that the princess had been praised for her beauty, piety, and intelligence, Alicent had felt a breath of fresh air when the king made the decision to call his daughter home in hopes of securing her a suitable husband.

By this point, the princess was ten and eight, far older than most other Targaryen princesses had been permitted to remain unmarried. Rhaenyra had offered to assume the role of her guardian and host her younger sister at Dragonstone while they search for a husband, but Alicent was not blind to her intentions and refused to allow the heir to her sister to Prince Jaecerys–Alicent always been particularly disapproving of the traditional practice of incestuous marriage among the Targaryen dynasty, though she herself had permitted her own two children to be married in order to prevent her sweet Helaena from being swept away by Rhaenyra as a bride for her bastard son.

In the first few weeks of her presence in the capitol, Alicent found her to be very pleasant. The letters from the Vale could not have been more truthful when they boasted of her beauty and wit, and she had proven to be just as charismatic and cultured in her Valyrian heritage as the most ideal Targaryen princess. She attended her lessons, enjoyed spending time with her younger siblings–even taking an interest in learning of little Daeron’s achievements in Oldtown. Then, as she seemed to become more settled in her new environment, rumours began to reach Alicent’s ears, and she was entirely unsure of how to deal with them.

She had noticed, on several occasions now, that the princess’s sworn protector, Ser Thomas, seemed to be far too comfortable around his charge, and could even be accused of caring for the princess far more than any white cloak should. Alicent was concerned by this, but beyond an intense questioning of both the princess and the knight about some of the rumours being spread, there was very little that she could do (especially considering that her own sworn protector did not hide his affections for her very well, either). The queen had hoped that this would be the worst of the drama, but she would be sorely disappointed in the months to come.

Princess Y/n had made an effort to surround herself with some of the other young ladies at court, constantly being accompanied by some, if not all, of her entourage at all times. Alicent saw nothing truly wrong with this, it was healthy for a girl her age to find companionship with the other ladies at court, but she quickly became alarmed at the sort of company she was choosing to keep.

Most of the ladies flew far below Alicent’s radar, all self-absorbed and desperate as the rest of the court to be any true threat. However, one Lady Mathilde appeared to be different; the girls were very close, often sleeping in the same bed, breaking their fast together, walking in the gardens together… Alicent saw from the beginning that she was cunning, and much too forward for Alicent’s tastes, often being found gossiping or flirting with anyone who would give her the time of day. She feared the impact that such a friendship would have on the princess, but Alicent could not risk insulting Mathilde’s house, who was already quite critical of the Hightower rule.

When she first caught wind of the impropriety that was supposedly taking place among the princess’s social circle, she knew she needed to step in. Far too many times now she had received complaints of the princess and her closest companions enjoying far too much wine in the gardens, or being quite loud well into the night when they all should have been abed, and her response to Alicent’s questioning was becoming more and more irritating for the queen; the modest, obedient girl had turned snarky and unapproachable.

Alicent had reached her wits end, getting the third complaint of the day for the princess’s daily activities, pushing past the knight at her door with a few tense words of dismissal, climbing her way up the stairs and through the unguarded door of the princess’s chambers, noting to herself to have Ser Thomas punished for leaving his post unattended.

Her feet stopped abruptly, eyes widening at the sight before her as her breath caught in her throat. Before her, on the extravagant four-poster bed, Princess Y/n was splayed out with her shift unlaced to leave her chest exposed as the skirt was bunched around her hips to make room for the girl who knelt between her thighs. Her eyes were closed, silver curls splayed out on the mattress as she arched her back, fingers lacing through the dark locks of Lady Mathilde to hold her face snugly against her cunt.

For a few moments, Alicent watched. The curve of the princess’s spine lifting from the feather-stuffed mattress, breasts lifting towards the ceiling as the cool of the evening air caused her nipples to harden into tight little pebbles; The sounds of her pleasure, whimpers and curses falling from her lips as the brunette sucked and nibbled at the sensitive folds of her womanhood. Alicent felt her lips purse in response to the involuntary watering of her mouth, fists clenching as she pressed her thighs together for a brief moment.

She blinked a few times, coming back to herself. Neither of the young ladies seemed to notice the queen’s presence until she loudly cleared her throat, shaking her head to refocus.

Both girls sat up in surprise, the princess rushing to cover herself as the other hastily readjusted her hair and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. The queen stared at them sternly for a beat before glancing up at the ceiling as she let out a deep sigh.

“Get out,” her voice was clear and commanding, stare coming back to the two figures on the bed and scoffing as either moved, “I said out.”

Lady Mathilde rushed to the door, pulling her robe over herself to protect her modesty as she escaped the princess’s chambers. Alicent did not spare her a second glance, instead choosing to stare directly at her stepdaughter, who seemed uncertain of whether she would be embarrassed or cocky for being caught in such a state.

“Your Grace,” The princess sat up straighter, “Apologies, but I did not hear your knock. As you can see, I was quite… indisposed.”

Alicent scoffed again, “Indisposed. Have you no shame? No decency?”

The princess rolled off of the bed, moving to pull her wine coloured robe over her shoulders and sitting at her vanity, “Decency. I was alone in my own chambers, it is not my fault that you do not feel the need to uphold some boundaries, stepmother.”

“I shouldn’t think it necessary, given your recent behaviour. How else could I prevent you from indulging in your depravities?”

“Worry not, Your Grace, my maidenhead is still intact, if that is your concern. My prospects for marriage will not be harmed.”

“No?” Alicent laughed cynically, “And when the court hears of your indecency? What then, when lords begin to refuse to entertain a woman of such immorality?”

“I think my Valyrian blood would be enough incentive for most,” The princess scoffed, brushing through her silky hair, “I doubt any would truly care, so long as I provide heirs and a few moments of pleasure. My title and connection to the Crown is of much more importance than my chastity.”

Alicent stormed forward, grasping her stepdaughter’s wrist tightly in her own grasp, “Listen to yourself! Your father, the king, has spent more money than you can even imagine on bringing suitors here for you, hosting feasts and tournaments for you, offering you the finest of lifestyles and education–Think of the opportunities he has given you, and this is how you act?”

“My father,” The princess sneered, pushing herself up to speak directly into her stepmother’s face, “Wasted his coin in doing those things, not for me or for my future, but himself. He could not, in good faith, let me rot in the Vale until I am old and withered, so instead he calls me home, only so he can be rid of me for good. Nothing that fool has ever done has ever been for anyone except for himself–even now, he allows you and your father to rule in his stead, slipping the realm and his family into chaos and not willing to step in and protect anyone but himself–”

The room went dead silent after the loud clap of Alicent’s palm across the princess’s cheek. Both women gasped, Y/n reaching to prod at her swelling cheek while Alicent collected herself.

“You forget yourself. Your father is the king, and you will treat him as such. Everything your father does is in honour of your mother and the love he holds for you and the memories of her that he sees in you,” Alicent gulped, looking away as tears fell over the princess’s cheeks, “Lady Mathilde will be removed from court on the morrow. I should have never allowed her to accompany you in the first place. You will accompany me to the Sept for prayer tomorrow morning, and you will be taking extended lessons with the Septa. You will break your fast and sup with only myself or alone, and you will learn to respect your father, the king, and me, your queen. Now go to bed, and bathe yourself tomorrow morning–Your sin alone is enough to disgrace the sept, let alone any physical signs of it.”

With that, Alicent turned and fled the room, rushing down the stairs and ignoring the greetings of the white cloaks patrolling the halls as she marched into her chambers. She paused, raising her hands to grasp at her face in frustration.

She cursed silently, then quickly blessed herself. Shaking her head, she began to pull at the laces of her own robe, falling into her plush bed and curling into herself. She was still for a few moments, waiting for her handmaidens to put out the candles and leave the room before she rolled onto her back, shakily pulling her skirt up to her hips and slipping her fingers between her thighs, head rolling back in both pleasure and annoyance at how wet she had become from watching the princess in such a primal, exposed state, breasts heaving with her stuttered breaths and husky moans. Alicent felt that angry bubbling eating away at her gut, intense jealousy surging through her at the thought of that girl touching her, tasting her in the most intimate way possible–what Alicent wouldn’t give to know how it felt to taste a Targaryen princess, a thought she had not entertained in many years.

Alicent grunted, hips stuttering into her own touch as her brows furrowed, unable to find a steady enough rhythm. She quickly rolled herself over, face pressed into her pillow and back arching to lift her dripping core into the air. She reached beneath herself, quickly moving to circle her clit with a steadier, more confident pace. A surprise jolt of pleasure wracked her body, shocked at how sensitive she was with that first touch as a heavy, dragged out moan filtered out of her, brows creasing in concentration as she fell into a steady, but rapidly quickening pace. Her fist tightened into the sheets, arm tensing to push herself up into a sitting position, legs widening impossibly further as she began riding her own fingers, hips stuttering as she reached her peak, and then gradually slowed to a stop. She slid her fingers out of herself, gliding them up her body until she was able to wrap her lips around them, tasting her own juices and imagining it was the princess’s instead. When she finally collapsed back on the bed, rolling onto her back and taking heaving breath as her heart slowed to a normal, steady beat. She laid there silently for a few moments before she finally closed her eyes in embarrassment, cheeks burning red at the memory of what she had done, and more importantly, what had stirred her on.

In the following weeks, she noticed the princess’s behaviour reverted to one that was more akin to how she had acted when she had returned from Vale. In the public eye, she had continued to portray the perfect princess, years worth of practised grace and charisma coming to aid her in impressing the visiting suitors, and even regularly accompanied Alicent to the sept for prayer. Alicent wondered, in the beginning, if she truly just had been in need of a reality check, to be put in her place in order for her to behave. Then, Alicent realised, no one–especially someone so deviant as the princess–returns to the light so easily without still being tempted by the sins of their past. The Hightower queen knew better than anyone that the princess was most certainly still indulging in her desires, and Alicent had just made it more difficult for herself to catch the princess in the act by sending Lady Mathilde away.

For now, at least, the queen would have to settle with this arrangement. In truth, there was nothing that she could truly do to stop the girl from doing as she pleased, she just hoped she would keep it a private matter. That way, the queen would not have to deal with the matter, nor would she find herself in the position of witnessing and being influenced by the princess’s depravity.

In fact, Alicent found herself coming to enjoy the princess’s company. She was, after all, dangerously charismatic and carried a wit that kept the queen on her toes. On a personal level, she truly did feel for the princess; her father made little effort to know her after months apart, and yet she was being forced into a marriage with some lord that she doesn't even know for his advantage. Alicent was once in a similar position, and she had a deep understanding of exactly why the young woman was so hostile towards her father.

The eldest son of House Tyrell seemed to be an ideal match for their own young princess. He was handsome, and seemed to have focused much of his time on earning a greater understanding of the princess’s Valyrian culture and heritage. He seemed quite taken with the silver-haired beauty, stealing her away to the dance floor at any given opportunity during the grand feast being held in his honour. Alicent was glad to see it, hoping that this issue would be resolved easily enough once she was focused on a husband of her own, but that itching feeling of suspicion at the base of her spine returned as she watched the princess be dragged away by her potential betrothed’s elder sister, spinning around the dancefloor hand in hand.

The queen found herself lost in her cups that night. She had been sitting in between her frail husband and the droning lady of Highgarden, her high-pitched voice turning into an annoying ringing in her ears as she watched over the crowd, emerald eyes constantly in search of her stepdaughter in the crowd. On top of everything else, Aegon had been acting up once more, and Rhaenyra’s insistent involvement in her sister’s betrothal leading to the king’s heir, her husband, and all five of her children arriving in King’s Landing.

She had found it difficult to relinquish some of her everyday activities with the princess to Rhaenyra, who had been at her side since they had arrived, fingers gracing her cheeks affectionately and insisting on doing her sister’s hair on her own. The youngest of Aemma’s children did not belong to the red haired woman, that much she already knew, but Rhaenyra’s presence seemed to pose a threat to Alicent.

Her wandering mind had drawn her eyes to the heir to the throne, where she and her husband stood off to the side conversing with some other lords. She shook her head, rolling her neck back as Lady Tyrell’s blabbering returned to her. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the recognisable head of silver braids amongst the court, lips curling down as she failed to find her.

Alicent grasped her cup, downing the remainder of the sweet wine and forcing herself to her feet. She barely offered Lady Tyrell a glance as she excused herself, quickly manoeuvring through the crowd. The queen spared no time, immediately turning and taking the far too familiar route to the princess’s chambers, though she only made it about halfway there before she discovered exactly where the princess had escaped to.

Princess Y/n of House Targaryen was pressed against the stone pillar in a small alcove, helplessly pressing herself against the full figure of the eldest Tyell girl, moaning wantonly into their kiss and paying no mind to the fact that her stepmother had just caught her for the second time.

“I thought we were past this,” Alicent frowned, the lack of emotion in her voice betraying exactly how enraged she truly was, sending a nervous shiver down Y/n’s spine.

“Your Grace,” the Tyrell girl curtsied, separating herself from the princess in embarrassment. Alicent felt a touch of relief at how flustered she appeared in comparison to Lady Mathilde. “I–I…”

“Leave us,” Alicent did not remove her eyes from the princess, who shrunk into herself as the lady rushed down the corridor, barely gone for a moment before the queen was grabbing her bicep with a bruising grip and dragging her up the stairs. “I cannot believe you, just when I thought I had gotten through to you.”

The door to Y/n’s bedchambers slammed shut behind them, Alicent dragging the younger woman across the room and throwing her onto the bed, face first. The queen felt her own face burning red, unsure if it was caused by the burning anger inside of her, the wine, or the familiar feeling squeezing at the bottom of her stomach. The princess whimpered, pushing herself up to attempt to turn and face the queen when Alicent’s hand fisted itself into her silver locks, forcing her back down on the mattress.

“You will stay, I think I need to get my point across more thoroughly,” Alicent muttered, using her spare hand to tug at the princess’s skirts until her bare ass was left to the cool evening air.

The queen took a moment to admire her soft, plump flesh, dimpling skin leading down to the silver curls that peeked out from between her thighs. The Hightower woman inhaled deeply, collecting herself, before she finally brought her flat palm down against the meat of her ass. The princess cried out, skin singing with pain as her ring-clad fingerprints were burned into her flesh, limbs fighting to escape her punishment, though the queen seemed to be much stronger than she looked. Alicent continued her assault, watching with a sadistic satisfaction as her handprint was left repeatedly in the princess’s skin.

“You forced my hand,” The queen grunted, “Everything I have done for you, everything everyone has done for you, and you still betray your duties.”

“I’m sorry!” The princess wept, “I tried, I did! I cannot help it.”

Alicent ignored her and the small pang at her heart, continuing to spank the girl before halting as her fingers landed on the apex of her thighs, a squelching sound echoing from the slap as her fingers found her dripping mound. The queen gasped at the wetness that soaked her fingertips, slowly pulling them away to stare at them.

“Look at you,” She muttered, “No matter the circumstance, no matter the woman, you are dripping and desperate.”

She finally released the princess, allowing her to turn and face her, whimpering as her sensitive ass pressed against the textured furs. She stared up at the queen for a few moments, letting out stuttering breaths as silent tears fell down her cheeks, then she pushed herself up, forcing her face into Alicent’s chest as she wrapped her arms around her, sobs wracking her body.

“I am sorry,” she wept, “I cannot help it, believe me. I wish I was never afflicted like this, but everytime I try to stay on a straight path, I find myself lost once more.”

Alicent’s hand came up to grasp at the back of the princess’s head, engulfing her in an affectionate embrace that was frighteningly soft in comparison to her previous actions. She whispered calming words to her, forcing her face back so she could speak directly to her.

“I understand,” She said, “Everyone struggles with their own afflictions…myself included.”

“Even you?” The princess sniffled, “You seem so perfect.”

Alicent scoffed, “If I were perfect, my children would be well behaved, the realm would be at peace, and I would be satisfied without my own guilt and sin.”

Y/n exhaled, eyes flickering to the queen’s pouty lips for a brief moment before leaning up, nose brushing against hers. Their breaths mingled, lips ghosting one another’s in order to test the waters, allowing for Alicent to pull away before the decision was made.

She did not.

Alicent wishes she could blame the alcohol that she had consumed, but as her lips crashed against those of the princess, she was brought back to the many nights she had brought herself to her blissful peak with swirling thoughts of the silver-haired woman. Her hands grasped her face, holding her tightly in place as she continued her new assault, this time one that the princess was glad to receive.

“We will fight this together,” the queen murmured, “We will help one another.”

The princess nodded, desperately pushing her face closer for another kiss, which the queen was happy to offer to her. She moaned at the princess’s taste, the sweetness of her tongue mixed with the sharp taste from the wine she had been drinking. Alicent finally pulled away, forcefully turning the princess around as she made quick work of the lacings of her dress, eagerly helping her remove and step out of the many layers of clothing she’d been wearing. She allowed herself to stare in awe as the princess turned back to face her, breasts heaving in anticipation of the queen’s touch.

“Beautiful,” Alicent murmured, fingers gliding up her sweat-glazed flesh to pinch tightly at one of the princess’s pebbled nipples and smirking at the whimper that escaped her kiss bitten lips. The queen released her touch, turning herself around and calling to the younger woman over her shoulder, “Take off my clothes.”

Y/n giggled behind her, hands finding the queen’s waist as her lips trailed her pale neck. Her voice escaped her in a husky whisper, breath hot against the queen’s ear as her fingers slowly pulled at the green gown, “Yes, Your Grace.”

Alicent felt a shiver of desire ripple down her spine as her own clothes joined the princess’s in a heap on the floor. She turned as soon as her chemise removed and her skin was left completely bare, pushing herself as close to the princess as possible and capturing her lips in another kiss, both women fighting each other with ferocity and passion before Alicent finally subdued the princess’s attempt to seize control. Y/n pulled back, lips trailing down the queen’s neck, shoulder, and collar bones before she went to work on her breasts. Her tongue dragged over every inch of her bare chest before she finally focused on the hardened pink buds, sucking each into her mouth and offering them equal amounts of attention as she sucked, licked, and nibbled away.

Alicent moaned out, head tilting back as she felt the pleasure course through her. The thick red curls between her thighs felt matted with the amount of juices that had escaped her, and she’d finally had enough. She pulled the younger woman away from her breast, noting the whimper of disappointment that left her lips. Alicent kissed her again, indulging the princess’s desperation as she kissed back eagerly, before she pushed her back, pinching her cheeks together to force her lips into a pout.

“Get on your knees,” Alicent ordered, “Show your queen the fruits of the company that you keep.”

The princess wasted little time, kneeling between the queen’s thighs, leaning forward with an exploratory lick into the mass of red curls. Alicent gasped at the contact, fingers curling into the younger woman’s hair and forcing her face closer. The princess had not been at work for five minutes before Alicent raised her leg, resting her foot on the edge of the bed next to them, using extra support to begin thrusting her hips forward. She chased her orgasm ferociously, rolling her hips against the princess’s tongue, gripping her hair tightly as she guided her face into her and fucked her face ruthlessly.

“Gods, yes,” she sighed, staring down at the violet eyes of her stepdaughter, “You were born for this, to obey your queen.”

She let out a cry of pleasure as her orgasm rolled over her, caused by another person for the first time in her life. Alicent continued to roll her hips, slowing until the aftershocks came to a halt. She pulled her hips back, hauling the princess back to her feet to catch a taste of her own juices on the princess’s lips. Her hands carded down her back, down her back and grasping at the meat of her ass snugly, completely forgetting the tenderness of the flesh until the princess whimpered in discomfort.

“My apologies, sweetness,” Alicent instead turned to gently massage the flesh, “Allow me to make it better.”

The princess was malleable for the queen as she helped her onto the bed, pushing her onto her belly and forcing her ass up into the air. The queen felt a stab of guilt as she stared down at the swollen skin of her ass, bringing her lips down to press gentle, loving kisses into the flesh before her fingers gripped the skin as softly as possible to spread her cheeks, mouth watering at the sight of her silver curls glistening with arousal. Alicent wasted no more time, pressing her face into the princess’s core with vigour, tongue working her tight hole before lowering to suck at her swollen and throbbing clit. The sounds escaping the princess were more than enough to encourage Alicent’s movements, working her sweet bud until her own release was gushing out, oozing onto Alicent’s tongue. The queen moaned at the taste, slurping up every last drop that she could find.

Cries of pleasure left the princess’s lip as she shook with the aftershocks, offering no resistance as the Queen rolled her onto her back and paying no attention to what she was doing until another burst of pleasure shot through her at the unexpected feeling of Alicent’s hot, wet core pressing against her own. Both women sighed at the contact, Alicent’s hands coming to rest on either side of the princess’s head as she rocked her hips, pressing their lips together in a weak attempt at silencing their moans as she found a steady pace.

The only sound heard in the room was the soft clapping of skin on skin, a squelching of their juices mingling together, and the desperate moans escaping both women. Y/n’s hands gripped Alicent’s waist tightly, raking her eyes over the queen’s body as she rode her, fingers crawling up her torso to find her breasts, squeezing and tugging on her heavy breasts.

“Your Grace,” the princess cried out, back arching off of the mattress, “Pleas–Your Grace, I am close.”

“As am I,” Alicent muttered, head tilted back with her eyes closed, “Gods, gods, yes.”

The princess reached her peak first, body thrashing in the sheets as the wetness between her thighs dripped down onto the sheets, soaking both herself and the queen above her in her juices. Then, Alicent fell over the ledge, fisting the sheets tightly with one hand while the other grasped the princess’s throat, pulling her up to kiss her once more.

The queen collapsed on top of the princess, red curls mixing with sliver as they lay entirely pressed together. Alicent pressed sweet kisses to the princess’s face, soothing her with gentle praises as she smoothed her hair away.

“I love you,” The princess muttered, her voice strained with dehydration, “I love you, I love you.”

The queen fought back a smile, “I know, my sweet girl. I know.”

They kissed, this time slow and yearning, a silent agreement of the change in their relationship.

“This changes things, more than you know,” the queen sighed, “But the decision has been made, and I will do everything in my power to protect you from the dangers of our desires.”

“As will I,” the princess whispered, leaning up to taste the queen’s lips once more, both completely unaware of the figure peering at them from the doorway.

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #alicent hightower is a lesbian #alicent x reader #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower

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biblioklept-writes · 2 years

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Delicate

Part 3 to Stargirl and Daydream (Modern!Aemond x Reader)

A/N: This is the final part you guys! I might do something in-universe for this later, but for now this is it. Sorry this is a little rushed, I couldn't find words to write </3

Summary: The Targaryen siblings are in India and who is better travel company than you?

Alternatively, Aemond's siblings fully tease him for his not-so-little crush on you.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

When Helaena informed you that she and her brothers had been planning to visit India, you were over the moon with joy. You animatedly told your mom, who offered that they could stay over the boys could crash in one room and Helaena could crash with you. Since Aegon was also coming with them, you refused, saying that they were ultra rich and maybe they wouldn’t like staying in your humble house - which was also partly true. And they were arriving today, in a couple of hours.

You dab the blush onto your cheek, getting ready for a family friend’s wedding. You asked your parents to stop by the hotel they were staying in for a short while before heading over to the wedding, and here you were trying to get your eyeliner right because how could you not be extra at a desi wedding?

Helaena had already landed by the time you left your house in a rush, not attempting to style the dupatta with the black sequined lehenga that you wore. The blouse was short, stopping a little below your boobs in a tube-top-esque fashion and long heavy matching skirt. Your jewellery was of fine white gold and long stone earrings. You even wore a silvery bun cuff on your effortlessly-messy updo.

Your parents waited for you outside of the extravagant hotel as you searched for any platinum blond hair. The silver bangles on your wrist clink as you lift your skirt a little to run to the reception, asking about Helaena. You were out-of-place here in the rich-people place, but presently you didn’t give a fuck.

The receptionist gives you a once over, but is polite enough to guide you to the second floor on the left section. Rooms 2L09-2L12. The cost of one room would be more than the rent of houses out there, you think as you step out of the lift. The floor is polished marble so smooth that you can see yourself reflected.

To your luck, you spotted Aemond first, standing on a fork to your left, and rushed your heart beating in your chest. But Helaena stepped out of the fork too, speaking with the bellboy and you called her name. The siblings turned at the sound of your voice, eyes wide as they took in your appearance.

You run into Helaena’s open arms and squeeze her. You couldn’t believe that they were right here in the flesh. “Gods, I am so happy to see you!” you squealed. She is dressed in a comfortable yellow tee and shorts, looking very tired but happy.

“Me too!” Helaena said, stepping away. Seemingly had enough of close contact for a month. “You look…”

“Magnificent, per usual.” A smooth voice adds, making you look at the polished marble. “Hi,” he says again, the sound of your name on his tongue sickly sweet. You want to hug him too, but don’t think it would be appropriate in front of his sister.

“Hi, Aemond,” you said, finally finding the courage to look up at him. Today, he’s dressed in a black polo shirt tucked in his khaki trousers. No less formal than the turtleneck and suit you had seen him the other time. His silver hair is half up in a little ponytail. An image of rubbing yourself against him, but force it away.

“Come in,” Helaena holds your wrist and drags you into her suite. “Aemond, you can join us too, just sort that out.”

A ghost of a smile graces Aemond’s features, his one eye half closed. As you entered the magnificent suite. You repeatedly told yourself to not stare. This one suite was bigger than your whole house. And from what you could tell, this was for Helaena alone. It’s good that I didn’t invite them over. “Where are you headed to after this?” Helaena asks, not-so-discreetly eyeing you.

“Oh, a wedding.” You say. “The son of my father’s colleague is getting married.”

“You look like you’ll outshine the bride.” Helaena says.

“Not a chance,” you say. “Honey, there’s no way you can outshine a desi bride, on her own wedding of all places. If it was one of my cousins getting married, I’d have taken you. You should see at least one desi wedding.”

“I’ll be certain to attend yours,” Helaena teases with a suggestive glint in her eyes.

“Of course,” You grin, not giving into her teasing antics. “I wouldn’t dream of getting married in your absence,”

“Helaena, where is Aeg- ” A voice that you don’t recognise calls, stopping at the sight of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were expecting company.”

“Hello,” you say, looking at the young boy with the signature Targaryen silver hair and purple eyes. He holds a certain innocence and self-confidence and you want to smother him with affection like one of your little cousins. “You must be Daeron,”

“Yeah, wow.” He says, as if he is struggling to find words. “Hi. You must be Y/N.”

You smile, stifling a laugh, but Helaena full on bursts out laughing. “Not you too, Daeron. Didn’t you want to ask her about computer science?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Daeron shakes his head, and composes himself. “Hello Y/N, it is great to meet you. People have told me to come talk to you about Computer Science. You seem like the best one out there.”

“That is a big fat lie,” You say. “But I can try to help you with anything. Tell me, what grade are you in?”

“Eleventh Grade, starting after the holidays.” He proudly says. “I still have to fill out my forms though.”

“You can talk later about the boring stuff,” Helaena says. “Come Y/N, tell me what have you been up to? You looked so lovely in the pictures you posted last night.”

“Nothing, actually. I was at home getting bored so I dressed up.” You tell her. “Also, I am currently in a time crunch and have only fifteen minutes before my parents start getting angry at me. We have to be there early so we can leave early.”

“Oh, that’s sad.” Helaena sighs. “I thought you could stay over for tonight, with me. It would be so much fun!”

“I’ll ask my mom about that,” you say, grinning awkwardly.

“Daeron, take some good pictures of us,” Helaena orders her littlest brother, handing out her phone. “If they are not good, I’ll beat your arse.”

Aemond is running up the stairs as fast as his long legs can to get some time to meet you. He knows you are in a rush and doesn’t want to make you wait, but you are already leaving Helaena’s room and waving her bye as he reaches the fork end. Daeron’s little head peeks out from Helaena’s suite, all shy waving at you. You flash his siblings your beautiful smile and turn, finally facing him.

An endearing blush dusts your cheeks as you spot him, smiling coyly.

“Hello again,” you say. “We didn’t get to speak at all.”

“Let me walk you out,” He offers, eager to spend any moment with you even though he is exhausted. To his eye, you are a glowing goddess, he wants to whisper sweet nothings in your ears, tell you how divine he thinks you are, but he holds back.

“What a gentleman,” you say, “Your mum would be so proud,”

“That’s the goal,” he chuckles softly. “So… you’d remember that I told you Professor Leyland assigned me Indian History as my project topic for this year, do you have any suggestions for a suitable location?”

“Well… it depends on what period of history you want to study.” You explain. “If you are more interested in the Delhi Sultanate and the Mughal Empire, Delhi and Agra would be good places to start. If you want to go back and study ancient civilisation, southern parts of India are favourable. I’d personally like you to go to Jaipur - it has a blend of both the rajput and mughal styles and a widely accessible resource base for your project work. Also, I have never been to Jaipur myself and would love to travel with you.” you winked at him towards the end, earning an endearing blush.

“Well, I must visit Jaipur then,” Aemond says, bumping into your shoulder lightly. “If such pleasant company awaits me,”

You were back at the reception now and hugged Aemond quickly before you left, smiling at him over your shoulder. He stands there, a rare blush colouring his pale cheeks crimson. She smells like the best fruits, he thought.

“Did you have a good time?” Daeron asks, winking as Aemond returned.

“Peachy,” Aemond quips, sitting down. He cannot stop smiling, still feeling the remnants of the hug.

“I didn’t think she’d be that beautiful.” Daeron sighs. “I forgot how to speak! Helaena, her pictures don’t do her beauty any justice.”

“Hey folks, what’s going on?” Aegon asks, leaning on the bathroom’s door frame. “I heard your little girlfriend came to see you, Aemond. You speak with her? You’re positively glowing.”

“Oh shut up, Aegon.” Aemond sighs, leaning back against the couch. “You got the pool view room now, did you not? Stop spoiling my mood.”

“The glow of a person in love!” Aegon says in a sing-song voice, swaying like a madman. Daeron joins him too, singing along with him. “The glow of love suits my brother so well. I’m in love - the beautiful, intelligent y/n - has stolen my precious heart and I cannot live without - ”

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” Aemond sighs, accepting defeat. He rubs his cold hands over his face in a weak attempt to gain some composure. “Must you torture me like this?”

“I am sure he is not in love yet,” Helaena muses, suggestively looking at them. “He’s not yet seen her play chess… Or the game that she designed.”

“She designed a chess game?!” the three brothers said simultaneously, incredulous.

“It’s a work in progress,” Helaena giggles, looking at their wide eyes. To Aemond she says, “Are you in love now, little brother?”

“I just might be,” He sighs again, falling on the couch. “My sweet Y/N.”

“The glow of a person in love,” all his three siblings repeated in that sing-song voice he loved to loathe. “Someone is falling in love,”

“I hate my life,” he muttered. I love these little shitheads, but I could also kill them.

It is now a good four days later that you stand in Helaena’s suite in the extravagant hotel, as she packs the last moment travel supplies - pads, tampons and a whole lot of paper towels and paper soap. You have your own bags ready for the trip - you suggested renting a car for the trip so it would be safer and easier to travel, the distance wasn’t too much and you’d be able to reach the hotel at nearly the same time. Also it was cheaper and you could carry more luggage.

You were surprised that your parents allowed you to go, but then again you were living half-way across the world most of the time, they probably trusted you.

Aemond is helping Aegon pack up, and Daeron sits on the couch outside Helaena’s bedroom, scrolling through his phone. Then in a rush all of you are ready and sitting at the reception with five minutes to spare. Aemond is doing one final check, listing items with the potential to be forgotten - chargers, earphones, phones, notebooks, pens, camera, soap, sanitizer, water bottles, map, google translate, watch, hair ties, comb, skin and hair care pouch, brushes, toothpaste and Aegon.

“You’re such a dad,” you commented, chuckling.

His pale cheeks turn a beautiful crimson at your chuckle as his siblings also joined in with their snickers. “Well, someone has to be the responsible adult here.” He says in defence. “Daeron is too young, Helaena is probably watching bug videos on her phone, worry isn’t a good look on you and… Aegon.”

“What did I even do?” Aegon puts his hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “I don’t do anything and he still treats me like this, you see, Y/N?”

“That is the problem, Aegon,” Aemond sighs. “Anyways. Do we have everything?”

“Yes, Dad,” Daeron exasperatedly sighs.

The drive to Jaipur was relatively peaceful, the siblings keeping their fights to a minimum. And you got to sit between Helaena and Aemond, gladly leaning in to his chest as you lazily spoke with Helaena. His large hand is on your knee, gently caressing and comforting. He’s so warm - it would be so easy to let everything go and just fall asleep on this human heater.

“Y/N!” Daeron yelled from the front seat. “Helaena told us that you are building a chess game! Tell us about it. What did you use?”

“Oh, just Unity and C#,” you say. At Aegon and Aemond’s confused expressions, you add, “Unity is a game development software. Anywho - it’s not ready to be used yet. There’s many errors and my chess proficiency seems to end there.”

“I am certain Aemond can assist you with that,” Aegon said, sitting in the back seat. “He’s quite the chess prodigy himself.”

“I have never beat him, not even when he was drunk.” Daeron adds.

“Are you?” You cock an eyebrow at Aemond looking up at the rare, easy smile on his face. “I could certainly use that skill set,”

“I’ll be glad to help you,” Aemond says. His heart thumps a little faster under your ear and you can’t help but smile. It was so easy falling into this routine.

They had arranged for the stay in another extravagant hotel - it had everything that you could imagine. The toiletries there were more expensive than your entire closet, you were certain of that. Even after your insistence that you get a normal room and not a suite - it cost like your monthly expenditure in King’s Landing - the Targaryen siblings booked you your own suite reassuring you that it wasn’t much. Each time you think that you understand just how filthy rich they are, they pull a tactic like this and it turns out they are even richer. Surely not all of their money was legal, was it?

You spent three days in the Pink City, visiting the Hawa Mahal, the City Palace and a one-day long trip to Amber Palace. Aemond was deeply interested in the history of each place and took down notes, asking you to translate whatever he couldn’t understand. He asked the local guides who were more than eager to explain the old tales to him - now that their pocket was full - and Aemond noted every last word that they said. You took the liberty and recorded the guide, knowing it would certainly be helpful in the future.

And you took a lot of pictures - so many with Helaena, Aemond, Daeron and even Aegon, who was a lot nicer when not inebriated. Your gallery was full of the targaryen siblings now - most occurring of them being Aemond. You loved your bug girl to death, but the way Aemond made your mind and body react was totally different. When sharing time came, you only shared a few of the shots that you had taken - you didn’t want to seem too weird with copious amounts of pictures that you had of him.

The high walls of Amer Kila and the gorgeous ceilings on the homely interior were in stark contrast to the intimidating stone walls on the outside. You were positively exhausted by walking all day, admiring the centuries old work visiting each room that you were permitted to see. Aemond takes so many pictures - of each room, of you in there, of his siblings - and you secretly click a picture of him. You think it’s endearing how invested he is in the history of this palace, how his one keen eye wanders about the room, drinking in every detail

You think then, he would have been too perfect, so the gods took his eye. It doesn’t matter that to you he is still a divine beauty, a fallen angel - something seraphic about his lilac eye and the sapphire in the other, to the world and himself he is imperfect because he is missing an eye.

It is way past midnight when you return to Jaipur. You bid everyone goodnight, but linger with Aemond, not giving a fuck about the cleaning lady of the corridor. You are sure that this isn’t the first late-night rendezvous she is witnessing.

Aemond’s good eye scans the hallway, gently wrapping his hand around your wrist as he pulls you to his suite and you stand there in the middle of the massive room with dimmed lights, looking at his ethereal face, admiring the way the Gods have chiselled him - you can tell they took their time crafting this fine specimen of the male species - and you don't hold yourself back as you rise to your toes. Don’t attempt to pull back as he leans down to you, don’t pull back when his warm breath hits your face.

You think he smells like the chocolate he had been sharing with you in the car as his lips are a hair’s breadth away from yours, and wonder if your mouth smells like that.

You don’t stop him when he brings his hands to the sides of your face, holding you delicately as if you are made of glass. You melt when his warm, sweet mouth collides with yours - you think you are dead and in heaven, or in a daze. Your hands grip at his narrow waist, holding him like he is the only person in the world, the only connection that you have to reality.

You pulled back for a breath, and then a switch seemed to have snapped in place as your mouths collided again - much harsher, tongues fighting and teeth clashing as you were desperate to taste more of him - his beautiful mouth tasting of the chocolate that you had just eaten. You are standing on his feet, his hands now on your waist and yours in his silken hair, tugging at it and he lets out a moan.

Aemond is snapped off his daze by his own moan, and he rests his forehead against yours, panting. “This was the best fucking kiss of my life,” he mutters on your lips.

“Mine too,” you breathe against him. “You’re the best kiss of my life, Aemond.”

The sound of your name on his smooth tongue and breathy voice is enough to send shocks of arousal through your veins, but the both of you hold back, too exhausted from the day and too wrapped up in the feel of each other’s mouth.

“I want to be yours,” Aemond whispers. “Will you accept me as yours?”

“Only if you take me to be yours,” you say with a smile.

You try to kiss once more, only to be interrupted by your own giggles. “You’re the prettiest little creature I have ever met,” he confesses.

“Right back at you,” you say, smiling widely. “The prettiest among men,”

“Will you stay here tonight?” He asks, voice small, hesitant. “I just want to sleep beside you.”

“Grab your change of clothes and let’s go to my room.” you whisper-giggle. “Wouldn’t want your siblings and my best friend to think we’re up to no good,”

He doesn’t let you go as he lets out a satisfied hum, gently swaying you both.

Tags:

@depressedperson88 @mrswhitethornbelikov

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond x reader #modern!aemond #hightower kids x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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randomdragonfires · 1 month

Text

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part One

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of substances and alcohol.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 10k

A/N | This is a repurposed version of an old story of mine. I sort of lost all the connection I felt to the plot somewhere along the way but now I've written some 32k words. Point is, I will complete it this time. Please be kind, this is NOT beta read and I haven't posted a fic in a long time - I'm a little rusty. Thank you!

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!

She’s swaying, with no sense of what’s happening around her.

One too many drinks. She’s never been much fun at parties, preferring to stay away from the heart of it all and slinking to the sides, sticking her back to the wall. But tonight, she drinks and she dances and she moves like she’s made of air, like it’s something she’s done for years. When she stops, her head spins for a moment before she gathers herself. As her vision clears, her eyes settle on a pair of mismatched eyes that see her.

He doesn’t look. He sees.

The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

She’s not quite sure when the feelings started. She supposes that whenever she’s with him, the air is charged with something electric, better, ready to bubble up to the surface and spill over. It’s always been there. He’s always been there. It makes sense.

She’s not quite sure when she fell in love with him. But if anyone asks, then she’d say the story goes something like this.

She and Daeron have been joined at the hip ever since she moved to the private media-haven city of King’s Landing, where the who’s who of Westeros came to live quiet, uninterrupted lives. The Targaryens were gracious enough to reward her father’s loyalty with a seat on the board of Targaryen Consolidated, and Jasper Wylde made the move to be closer to the headquarters with great haste. Viserys Targaryen appreciated his promptness and made sure to have his wife help the Wyldes feel at home. Next thing she knows, she’s seamlessly made herself at home with the Targaryen-Hightower kids.

Around the same time, their youngest son with a boyish charm steals her heart - even before she was old enough to understand what it meant to fall in love.

They’re kids when Aegon lets her stand on his toes as he guides her to take his lead. They dance clumsily, in that wholesome way that older brothers do with their sisters - he is the closest thing she has to a brother, she supposes. There is no shortage of Wylde siblings, oh no. Just that they’re all old enough to have fled the nest, while she, at the tender age of six, still stays with her father - close enough to Maegor’s Holdfast, where her friend and his family live.

Helaena sips on her juice with one hand as she watches the centipede move slowly on the back of her left hand. It is clear to anyone who sees that neither Aemond nor Daeron - sitting on either side of her - share her interest. The latter is comparatively more horrid at hiding his discomfort than the former, who even at that age, would bite his own tongue before he made Helaena feel bad.

She laughs as Aegon jokes before spinning her around, much like the princesses in her stories. He’s always been this way, jokes and all light-hearted happiness. She feels like she’s light and airy and flying as he moves her, and soon enough, despite a lack of breath, she wants Daeron to dance with her.

He’d be the prince in her stories, always. Whenever she reads those head-spinning tales of love, it is always Daeron’s face that she sees. Nobody is more bashful or shy than a little girl who gets to dance with the boy she likes.

Daeron seems unaware of the red blooming on her cheeks, laughing as both pudgy little children made their way through the hall as they danced. The sunlight falls through the windows in thin streaks and Daeron’s hair catches the light, making his hair look like it was made of molten silver. His eyes brighten up and she cannot help but smile.

They keep going round and round until she tires herself out and lands on her bum, laughing without a care in the world as Daeron plops himself next to her.

Neither of them notice Aemond watching them from afar.

They're eight years old when Lucerys Velaryon harshly tugs at her pigtails as she sits under the old oak tree on the school grounds, engrossed in her book. The playful mischief on his face isn't new, but today it stings more than usual. Before she can react, Daeron charges at him, fists flying as he ignores the football game he was a part of.

The scuffle draws the attention of everyone nearby, and she watches, heart pounding, as she begs them to stop. Normally, Luke's antics wouldn't escalate into a full-blown fight, but things have changed since that summer. The incident with Aemond, where Luke's careless shove left him with a scarred face and a damaged eye, has created an invisible line between the Targaryen-Hightower kids and their nephews.

Mr. Strong, one of their teachers, quickly intervenes, breaking up the fight. As Daeron lets go of Lucerys, his eyes find hers. "Of course, the Strong boys' grandfather would help them out," he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. It's in that moment, seeing the anger in his usually cheerful eyes, that she realizes - anger is an emotion that is so out of place on him.

Later that day, she sneaks into the infirmary with a handful of colorful band-aids, her small act of kindness in response to the cut above Daeron's brow. While his mother and sister argue in the Principal's office, she offers him the band-aids, her fingers trembling slightly. He grins, selecting the blue one with bright stars on it, and they sit together in silence, waiting for the adults to finish.

Daeron wears the band-aid for weeks, long after the cut has healed and the adhesive has started to wear off. He keeps adjusting it, ensuring it stays in place, as if it were a badge of honor. Every time he sees her, he flashes that full-toothed smile, a silent thank you for her support. It's a small gesture, but to her, it's everything.

She now knows what love is.

They’re thirteen years old when she begins resenting the girls around her - especially the ones who grow into themselves, with perfect tits and fuller bodies. Not because she’s yet to come into it herself, no.

Because Daeron looks at them longer than he ever did before.

She watches him watch them, her heart sinking each time his gaze lingers on another girl. Of all the girls, she hates Floris fucking Baratheon the most.

Floris - a senior of theirs by a year - with her perfect hair and confident walk, her infectious laugh and me-me-me personality. Daeron’s eyes follow Floris as she moves through the hallways, and it makes her blood boil. Sometimes, in the privacy of her room, she grumbles about how she hopes Floris - a perfectly nice girl - would get run over by a truck or trip and fall to her death.

She doesn’t mean it, not really.

She tries to distract herself, throwing herself into her studies and extracurricular activities. She spends more time with Helaena, who is wonderfully oblivious to the typical teenage drama, and finds solace in their quiet moments together. But every time she sees Daeron looking at Floris, the pang of jealousy returns, sharper than before.

Months pass, and she begins to notice changes in herself. Her body starts to develop, her hips widening and her chest filling out. She thought that maybe, just maybe, Daeron would start to look at her the way he looks at the other girls. But he doesn’t. His gaze doesn’t linger on her; he doesn’t see her the way he sees them.

It’s the first sign, the first painful realization, that perhaps Daeron’s feelings don’t match her own. She tries to push the thought away, but it’s persistent, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

She remembers one day in particular. It’s gym class, and she’s standing with a group of girls, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Floris is there, laughing and joking. Daeron is among them, his eyes bright as he listens to her, hanging onto her every word.

She feels a sharp pang of jealousy and looks down at herself, wondering why she isn’t enough.

As the weeks go by, her frustration grows. She tries to get Daeron’s attention, hoping he’ll notice the changes in her. She wears new clothes, styles her hair differently, even tries to engage in conversations that might interest him. But nothing works. He’s friendly and kind - he always is - but he doesn’t look at her the way he looks at Floris.

One afternoon, she’s walking home with Daeron. The sun is setting, casting a glow over the neighborhood. They talk about school, about their plans for the weekend. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s a distance she can’t bridge. She wants to tell him how she feels, how much it hurts to see him look at other girls, but the words stick in her throat.

Instead, she says, “Do you think people change?”

Daeron glances at her, his expression thoughtful. “I think so. Why?”

She shrugs, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just wondering. Sometimes I feel like I’m changing, but nobody notices.”

He stops walking and turns to face her. “I notice.”

Her heart leaps at his words, but it quickly sinks again as she realizes he means it in the same friendly, brotherly way he always has. She forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, Daeron.”

They continue walking, but the conversation feels hollow. She knows now, with a painful clarity, that no matter how much she changes, she’ll never be the one Daeron looks at with longing. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but she forces herself to accept it.

Back home, she retreats to her room, the place where she can let her guard down. She sits on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and allows herself to cry. The tears come slowly at first, then faster, a torrent of frustration and heartbreak. She wishes things were different, wishes she could make him see her the way she sees him.

As she grows older and explores her own body, the journey of self-discovery becomes a personal and intimate experience. In the quiet of her room, late at night, she begins to understand her own desires. In these private moments, her imagination often drifts to Daeron. Just as his face was the one she envisioned when she read about princes and kings, it is his face that fills her thoughts now. His warm smile, his soft eyes, and the way he laughs—all these details become a vivid part of her fantasies.

As her fingers move gently over her body, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers, she imagines his touch, his presence, and the way he might hold her. The intensity builds, her breaths becoming shallow and rapid.

The name she whispers into the silence is his.

She loves him. She hates him.

She never wants to see him again.

They’re seventeen when prom comes about.

She’s dreamt about this for years - of her in her pretty blue dress on Daeron’s arm, making their way into the room as all her classmates looked.

Only that’s not how it happens.

Floris and Daeron have been going out for years now, and it comes as no surprise that he asks her to be his date. They’re sitting at the dining table at his house as he recounts how romantic the moment was, and how happily she’d said yes. He has all but stomped over her heart by now.

It takes everything in her to not stab him with her fork. Instead, she nibbles on the chicken nuggets that Criston Cole had made for them to snack on - that’s a new development, really. Soon after the divorce, Daeron’s mum began dating the bodyguard; though he suspects they’ve been together for longer.

But Alicent Hightower smiles brighter and shines more than she ever did in Viserys Targaryen’s presence, so her children don’t find it in themselves to be angry. If anything, they’re very supportive and leave them to be.

When he turns to her with that familiar, probing smile that she loves and asks if she will be going, she murmurs Jason Lannister’s name with a casual disinterest she doesn’t fully feel. Daeron’s smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pokes and prods, clearly trying to coax a blush from her at the mention of the blonde-haired boy.

She wants to love him, but Jason Lannister simply isn’t Daeron Targaryen. No matter how charming or cute this boy - their senior by a year, a classmate of Aemond’s - might be, he can’t compete with the phantom of a dream she’s harbored for years.

She finds it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure. The weight of her crushed dreams feels almost unbearable, and the cheerful tone of his voice only worsens the heartache. Unable to endure it any longer, she mutters something about needing to get some fresh air and stands up abruptly. Daeron, oblivious to her distress, casually mentions that he’s planning to meet Floris soon. The words hit her like a cold wave, and she forces a tight-lipped smile before making her way outside.

The air is cool and quiet as she walks along the gravel path, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her mind is a tumult of emotions—sadness, frustration, and a deep-seated ache that she can’t quite put into words. Absently, she kicks at a small stone, sending it skittering across the ground.

The stone makes a sharp, clinking sound as it collides with a metallic object. Startled, she looks up to see the stone has hit Aemond’s motorbike - the pompous prick even gave it a name: Vhagar. The sound of the impact echoes in the stillness, and her heart skips a beat as she sees a shadowy figure emerge from behind the bike.

It’s Aemond; he’s preparing the motorbike to take with him to university at Oldtown - where she and Daeron will soon follow, with their long-term plans to go to college together. His face, illuminated by the faint light, is a mixture of annoyance that turns into something unreadable. She quickly murmurs a shaky “sorry” before the swell of emotions becomes too much. Her eyes well up with tears she’s been desperately trying to hold back.

He’s curious, but he doesn’t ask why she’s crying. He simply watches her walk away.

Hours later, when Floris Baratheon drives to their house in one of her father’s cars, he sees his brother kiss the girl like she’s the very air he needs to breathe.

Now, he knows what’s happened.

Nothing goes to plan.

Far from it, really.

In all her dreams of prom, she always imagined that she’d dance the night away with Daeron, empowered by all the spiked drinks she knows she’ll love to have. They’ll keep spinning as they did when they were kids, until they’d slow down in tiredness and he’d lean in and kiss all her teenage heartbreak away.

Instead, she sits with both her legs on the same side on Vhagar, with Aemond Targaryen.

Wrong, it’s all gone wrong.

Her dress is blue and pretty and all that she hoped it’d be, but by the Gods, she wants nothing but to shred it to pieces and never see it again. The neon lights of the diner sign that he’s parked under buzzes and she hates the sound. She’s got coffee in her hands, and she holds onto the cup tight as she lets the warmth seep through her. She’s put on his jacket, and it smells like cigarettes. He’s got her bracelet in his pocket, allowing for the wounds on her wrist to breathe.

He’s leaning on the motorbike right next to her, and she chances a look at him. She wonders what she’d have done, what would have happened to her, if he hadn’t been around. She thanks the Gods that he was.

He lifts the cigarette onto his lips and she sees his bloodied knuckles. She clocks the blood on his shirt and the red stains on his signet ring, one that his father gave him when he turned eighteen. She can’t bear to look at the red any longer; she can’t look at any of it without hearing the sounds of him punching Jason Lannister to near death.

“You could have killed him,” she says. Her voice is devoid of any emotions. She speaks like she’s simply inquiring about the weather.

“He’d have deserved it.” The smoke billows, fades, goes into the air.

He flexes his free hand over his thighs and she lets out a long sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

“Wylde.” The anger at her denial is obvious, but he doesn’t push. His mismatched pair of blue and violet eyes flare like never before, but she knows Aemond. She knows he simply wants her to not lie, even if she’s not ready to say anything. “Where was Daeron? He’s always with you like a lost dog, isn’t he?”

She can’t blame Daeron for choosing to spend the night with his date. She won’t blame Floris for keeping him all to herself - she’d do the same thing if he was hers. She can’t blame them at all, but she can’t bring herself to stop the bitterness from making its way. “Busy shagging his date, I think,” she spits out.

“Hm.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

She hates the idea of having to explain to anyone at all what had happened. How Jason had his hands up the skirts of her dress, how she kept nodding no, how he continued despite her saying no a hundred times over. She remembers how he’d pressed her hands against the wall, her charm bracelet poking and prodding and searing as it pressed into her skin and drew blood. All of a sudden, she can’t breathe.

She grips the cup tighter, causing the coffee to spill into her hands and it stains the sleeves of his pristine leather jacket too and the tears fall and there’s nothing she can do and she’d helpless again and-

“Wylde.”

“Don’t tell.” She all but chokes the words out, and hopes and prays that he’ll listen.

“Okay.”

They sit in silence for a time, the city moving silently in the twilight as they take it in. Neither of them says a word, and she finishes her coffee in peace. She notices the steel - Valyrian steel, she thinks - bracelet on his right wrist too. When had he begun wearing all this?

“Your mum won’t like it if she finds out you’ve been smoking, you know.”

“What mum doesn’t know…” he says, the sentence left incomplete for her to get that she isn’t to say a word about any of this.

“Okay.”

Many moments of welcome silence pass, and then she hops off the seat of the bike. The message is clear: she’s ready to be taken home.

The engine hums to life beneath her as they merge into the stream of twilight traffic. She wraps her arms around him, feeling the coarse texture of his leather jacket beneath her fingertips. With each breath he takes, his back expands and contracts, a rhythm that grounds her in the present. The bike vibrates gently, its mechanical purr harmonizing with the distant murmur of the city.

The air is thick with the scent of motor oil, mingling with the subtle aroma of leather and something uniquely him. She breathes it in deeply, letting it fill her senses as the city lights stretch out into the dusk. The streets are bathed in the golden glow of street lamps, their light flickering through the trees that line the boulevard.

As they weave through traffic, the sounds of the city become white noise. The hum of engines, the distant chatter of pedestrians, and the occasional blare of a car horn create a backdrop that feels almost surreal. She leans into him, her cheek pressing against his back, feeling the solid reassurance of his presence.

The wind tousles her hair, cool against her skin, as they take a turn onto a quieter street. The city fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic click of the bike’s gears and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. She closes her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be fully immersed in the sensations—the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the steady thrum of the engine beneath them.

They soon stop at her house, and she steps down. He glances back at her, his eyes shadowed with concern. He scans her from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her face. She sees the struggle in his eyes, the words that he cannot bring himself to say. His brows furrow slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's about to speak but then thinking better of it.

She meets his gaze, her own eyes softening with understanding. Despite the fear still rippling through her, she offers him a small, reassuring smile. “I'm okay,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the city's din. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her touch.

He doesn’t speak, but his eyes search hers, silently asking if she’s truly alright. She says nothing, simply leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, the gesture full of gratitude and something deeper, something she doesn’t dare name. He won’t mind; it’s just a thank you for being there, she tells herself.

He watches her as she steps back, his gaze following her movements. She pulls his jacket tighter around herself, feeling the comforting weight of it, the lingering scent of him enveloping her. As he revs the engine and rides off into the night, she watches the trail of smoke he leaves behind, her heart full and heavy all at once. The jacket feels like a hug, as though he’s the one holding her, even from afar.

When she goes to bed that night, her dreams are tinged with shades of violet and blue.

Her bracelet, one that he’d gently removed and kept in his trouser pocket doesn’t cross her mind at all. Not once.

She doesn’t see much of Daeron anymore.

She stops visiting Maegor’s Holdfast, though she does show up for Sunday lunch at Alicent Hightower’s insistence. She steps into the house as Criston welcomes her, sunny smiles and easy disposition making her welcome. She momentarily forgets why she’d stopped coming- how Daeron didn’t bother with spending a single moment with her at the prom that he knew she was at, how he’d not bothered to check in afterward. She never even got a chance to tell him herself what Jason had tried to do.

He’s still in the dark about it all, acting like nothing’s gone wrong when she’s slowly removed herself from his orbit. It means Aemond hasn’t told anyone, just as he’d promised.

She looks over Criston Cole’s shoulder and sees Floris Baratheon laughing with Daeron and Alicent, and her scowl deepens immediately.

When the raven haired senior sees her, she comes to her with a kind smile and an outstretched arm that takes her into a hug immediately.

She’s grown weary of strangers touching her since that night, but she holds her own.

The bitterness that engulfs her at Floris Baratheon welcoming her to a house that has essentially been her second home all her life, never quite goes away.

Her feet shuffles and she cancels out all the noise as she absentmindedly makes up bullshit excuses for her absence. She’s seated at the table between Aemond and Helaena, who’d come back home from university to visit for the weekend. The conversation flows smoothly as the juice she has a lot of - the sun is sweltering and she can’t bring herself to eat.

She won’t blame how nauseatingly happy the two of them sitting opposite her are. That has nothing to do with her appetite.

She’s learnt to make her peace with it, how she’d never be the girl that he’d want to be with. She’s content with being his best friend, but lately it seems as though she isn’t even half of that to him. She’s learnt to live her own life without him, but it hurtles her backward and her feet tapping becomes incessant as she watches him break her heart with his next words.

“Floris is going to KLU this summer, I think I’m gonna go too, next year.”

And just like that, their childhood dream of attending college together’s been broken, and it seems as though he doesn’t care one bit.

He looks at her like she’s the only person that exists in his world - she may as well be, at this point - and her anger knows no bounds. She wants to dash out the door and go to her room and take down all her Oldtown University posters and damn it all, damn it all to hell-

Aemond’s hand settles and presses into her thigh, keeping her from tapping her foot any further.

Everyone else at the table seems oblivious to her growing annoyance.

Her eyes meet his and he moves his head, almost as if he is warning her to stay put - but it is calming too, at the same time. She heeds him and somewhere along the way, the hand on her thigh is taken away. She misses the warmth of it, weirdly so.

She leaves with half hearted goodbyes and buries herself in the sheets in her room. An entire tub of icecream is swiftly eaten up as she holds her book in the other hand, willing herself not to cry.

He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve her tears-

The bell rings, and the head housemaid of Rain House swiftly makes it to her room and knocks on the door. “It’s Master Daeron for you, miss,” she says, her voice laced with a slight Essosi accent that she still holds onto after years. Her grip on the book is frightening, her knuckles going white.

She walks down in careful, slow steps - her legs feel like jelly as she makes the descent on the staircase.

She takes a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, as she finally reaches the bottom of the staircase. Daeron stands there, looking unsure and nervous. The sight of him stirs a whirlwind of emotions within her—anger, hurt, betrayal. She steels herself, determined to say everything that’s been building up inside her.

"Why are you here?" she asks, her voice colder than she intends.

"I... I wanted to talk," he says softly, trying to meet her gaze.

"Talk?" she scoffs, crossing her arms. "Now you want to talk? After everything?"

He takes a step forward, but she steps back, putting more distance between them. "I've been busy with—"

"Busy?" she interrupts, her voice rising. "Busy ignoring me? Busy replacing me with Floris? Busy planning a future that doesn't include me?"

"That's not fair," he protests, looking pained. "Floris is my girlfriend, and—"

"And what? That means I don't matter anymore? That our friendship doesn't matter?" Her voice is shaking now, the floodgates of her emotions bursting open. "We had plans, Daeron! We were going to go to Oldtown University together. We talked about it for years. And now you're just throwing it all away for her, a girl you’ve known for what, two minutes?"

"It's not like that," he tries to explain, but she cuts him off again.

"Not like that? You didn't even tell me! I had to hear it at the table, like I'm some stranger! You made me feel like I don't matter, like I'm just... second best."

"You're not second best," he insists, looking desperate.

"Then why do I feel like it?" she yells. "You’ve been treating me like I'm nothing! Do you know what it's like to be ignored by your best friend? To feel like you're losing the one person who meant everything to you?"

"Please, just listen—"

"No, you listen!" she screams, her eyes blazing with fury. "Jason Lannister... he... he fucking tried to rape me at prom." Her voice cracks, the memory of that night overwhelming her. "Aemond found me. Of all people, Aemond saved me. And where were you? With Floris, having the time of your life, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in hell."

She knows it’s wrong to blame him. What happened that night had nothing to do with him, but she can’t help herself. The floodgates are open after years of quiet, and she is on a roll.

His face pales, and he opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn't let him. "You promised we'd go to college together, you promised we'd always be there for each other. And now you're breaking that promise for her. You're betraying our friendship for someone you've known for a fraction of the time you've known me."

"I didn't know," he whispers, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't know about Jason. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" she echoes, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Sorry doesn't fix this. Sorry doesn't undo the pain you've caused. I hate you, Daeron. I hate you for making me feel worthless, for betraying our friendship, for everything." He steps back, stunned by her words, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the weight of her anger and his guilt hanging heavily in the air.

If she says any more, she may tell him she’s been in love with him all this time and embarrass herself further.

"I fucking hate you," she says, her voice icy and final.

He looks ethereal even in his sadness, and she hates herself for thinking about how beautiful he looks even then.

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he closes it, a quiet apology dying on his lips. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered but her resolve unbroken. As the door closes behind him, she collapses on the staircase, tears streaming down her face, the enormity of her outburst sinking in.

The days that follow blur together in a haze of bitterness and exhaustion. She clings to Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon, doing her best to go about her business without causing a stir. She avoids Daeron at all costs. The pitying, sad look he gives her from afar makes her consider forgiving him, but then Floris Baratheon sits right next to him and his attention is stolen. In those moments, she remembers why they fought in the first place.

“I’m sorry about you and Daeron,” Ellyn says one afternoon. “Floris said you had a fight and don’t speak to each other anymore.”

“Floris says, huh?”

“She is my sister, you know.”

“Hm.”

She never lets these conversations go on for too long, cutting them short before the pain seeps through her facade.

In truth, though, she’s tired of holding onto her grudges. She deserves to be a little hateful, but she’s never been the type to be angry for too long. But she’s not a Septa either, not quite as forgiving. This half-in, half-out approach exhausts her more than she wants to admit. Each day feels like a battle, her energy sapped by the effort of maintaining her cold indifference.

Summer break comes soon, and with it, the promise of rest and a new year of school that would follow. She doesn’t call her father - Jasper Wylde is often on trips for work that she never asks about. Summers used to be filled with laughter and adventure when her mother was alive, but there hasn’t been much joy in the house since her passing. So she wallows, feeling the oppressive weight of solitude and grief.

Usually, she’d spend her summers with the Targaryens. Alicent never minded having her around and even loved entertaining her like her own child. The Targaryen household was a second home, a sanctuary filled with warmth and belonging. But she’s got her pride, and she won’t go now. Not after everything that’s happened.

The Targaryens often retreated to their summer house in Oldtown, where the Hightowers lived. The memories of those summer vacations flood her mind, making her want to double down and cry. She recalls the grand manor with its sprawling gardens, the scent of salt in the air from the Sunset Sea, and the endless days of sun-drenched bliss.

They’d spend hours lounging by the pool, with lemonade and cold treats while the children splashed and played. Evenings were filled with elegant dinners under the stars, laughter echoing through the hallways, and the comfort of a family that, despite their flaws, loved deeply and fiercely. She’d felt like she belonged there, like she was part of something bigger than herself.

But now, those memories are tainted by the ache of loss and betrayal. She’s haunted by the image of Daeron and Floris, their laughter and closeness a stark contrast to her own loneliness. The joy she once felt in the Targaryen household now feels like a cruel reminder of what she’s lost.

She tries to distract herself, diving into books and mindless TV shows, but nothing can truly drown out the emptiness inside her. The isolation gnaws at her, a constant, nagging pain that she can’t shake off. She misses the days when she could simply be herself, without the heavy cloak of anger and sorrow weighing her down. She misses the carefree summers, the feeling of being loved and wanted.

Tears often come unbidden, hot and angry, as she lies in bed at night. She curses herself for caring so much, for letting him cut her so deeply. She tells herself she’s strong, that she doesn’t need him or anyone else, but the ache in her chest tells a different story.

He’s just some boy, she tells herself. But she’s also quick to fight her own words: He’s more, more, more.

She wishes she could turn back time, to before everything fell apart. To when Daeron was her best friend, her confidant, her rock. When her mother’s laughter filled the house and summers were something to look forward to. But those days are gone, and she’s left to navigate the wreckage on her own.

Her heart feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved pain. She’s tired of being angry, tired of feeling like she’s fighting a losing battle. But the hurt is too deep, the wounds too fresh. So she puts on a brave face, holds her head high, and tries to move forward, even though every step feels like she’s walking through quicksand.

She sits on her bed, staring blankly at the pages of a book she isn't truly reading. Her mind is far away, lost in a whirlpool of memories and pain. The house is eerily silent, amplifying her loneliness. She feels as if she’s adrift in a vast ocean, with no shore in sight. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, but she ignores it, knowing it's probably another call from her father that she won't answer.

A sudden knock on her bedroom door startles her. She wipes away the tears that have been silently streaming down her face and tries to compose herself.

"Come in," she calls out, her voice weak as she expects the house help to call her for food.

The door opens and Aemond steps in, holding a box. His presence is a mix of comfort and awkwardness, as if he's not sure how to approach her in this state.

"Cole made Tiramisu," Aemond says softly, holding out the box. "Mum asked Daeron to bring it to you or call you over, but he rambled on about how you’re angry at him and won’t speak to him."

Her room is a blend of organized chaos and personal touches. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with novels, textbooks, and sketchbooks. A stack of half-read books sit on her nightstand, and her art supplies are scattered across a small desk in the corner. Posters of Oldtown University adorn the walls. A few framed photos of her and her mother and happier times with the Targaryens are interspersed among her drawings.

Aemond walks slowly, his eyes taking in the details. He runs his fingers lightly over the spines of the books, glancing at the titles. He pauses by her desk, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through a few pages. He sets it down gently and moves to the posters, studying them as if trying to understand what they mean to her.

"Your father called this morning," Aemond continues, his voice gentle. "Your staff picked up and said you’re here, but you refuse to pick up his calls. He practically begged Mum to send someone to check in on you. He’s worried."

She sighs, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. "I don’t want to talk to him. Or anyone, really."

Aemond places the box on her bedside table and sits down next to her, his expression one of genuine concern as the mattress dips. He doesn’t look at her directly at first, his eyes wandering over the room as he gathers his thoughts.

"You don't have to talk if you don’t want to. But you can’t shut everyone out forever."

She looks at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I’m just so tired, Aemond. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of being angry and hurt."

His gaze finally settles on her, and for the first time, he sees her, well and proper. She’s not quite sure how to feel about it all.

He passes the box to her wordlessly, and she picks up the spoon on top of it before holding the box with her other hand.

She looks down at her full hands, not quite being able to summon the courage to look him in the eye. "I just... I don’t know how to move on from this. It’s like everything is falling apart, and I can’t fix it."

“Eat,” he demands. So she does. She smiles at how good it is.

“So Criston’s been cooking a lot, huh? He’s gonna put all the kitchen staff at your house out of business.”

“Yes, from bodyguard to personal chef. Quite the promotion,” he says, but there is a soft smile that follows. “He makes mum happy.”

“Good. She deserves that.”

She extends a full spoon to him, but he declines with a shake of his head. Neither of them say anything, and she continues to eat. The silence is deafening but comfortable by all accounts. The only sounds are the soft clinking of her spoon against the box and the distant hum of life outside her room.

Aemond shifts slightly, making himself comfortable on the edge of her bed. He watches her with a quiet intensity, his presence a steady, grounding force. He’s never been one to fill silence with meaningless words.

His eyes wander around the room again. He notices a framed photo on her nightstand, half-hidden behind a stack of books. It’s a picture of her with Daeron, taken during one of those sun-drenched summer vacations. They’re both smiling, their faces bright with happiness.

She sees his pity, and she chooses to ignore it.

Her expression hardens for a moment, then softens into something more reflective. She sets down the Tiramisu and reaches for the picture, moving across him. She chooses to not focus on how warm his breath is on her as she moves, instead focusing on her fingers tracing the edges of the frame.

"Do you remember this day?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nods. "Two years ago?"

She sighs, a mix of nostalgia and sorrow in her eyes. "I miss it. I miss how simple everything was." I miss when I felt wanted.

“Hm.”

Turning her gaze to Aemond, she finds herself filled with a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you for coming, Aemond," she says softly. "I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to be here with me until you actually did."

He lets out a noiseless, subtle chuckle - as is his habit. She continues, feeling overwhelmed by how thankful she is. "I’ve pushed everyone away. I thought it was easier to deal with everything on my own. But now... I’m just so grateful that you came.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, the weight of her grief and anger easing with each passing moment. She feels a sense of clarity she hasn’t felt in a long time. Her head feels heavy, however - she leans on his shoulder, and he lets her.

Somewhere along the way, their hands entwined had been left to rest on her thigh. She doesn’t give it much thought apart from how warm her hand is in his hold.

Almost an hour later, they stand in the living room as he readies himself to leave. She looks out the window and sees Vhagar parked outside, and she quickly remembers. Darting to her room, she comes back with his jacket from the other night. She wordlessly hands it to him, and he smiles by the corner of his lips as he puts it back on.

“When do you leave for Oldtown?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“So this is goodbye then?”

“Only for a time, I think. Or have you changed your mind about Oldtown now that-”

“Daeron’s ditched me?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing to not extend her invitation for a pity party.

“I haven’t given it much thought lately. I probably should. I just… college was an experience that we were going to take on together, you know? I never thought of what it would be like if I had to do it alone.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll learn. Just… not right now. I’m just going to lick my wounds for a bit.”

He begins scratching at his cuticles and she grabs the hint. “You should get going. Lots of packing to do, I bet?”

“The staff took care of it.”

Of course they did. He’ll never have to lift a finger, silver- haired Targaryen prince that he is.

“Economics, huh? And then an MBA along with an internship at one of Targaryen Consolidated’s major divisions before your father puts you in one of the high chairs?”

He blushes at how predictable his path seems to her.

“If it counts for anything, I feel like you were made for this. Born for this.”

He nods, letting her words of affirmation wash over him as he finally makes a move. “You take care of yourself, yeah?” He murmurs, his lips warm against her brow as she stands, basking in his welcome warmth.

He withdraws too quickly for her liking.

Once again, she watches him ride the motorbike away from her as she stands on her front porch.

He'll miss her when he goes.

The realization strikes him with the force of the cold wind that stings his cheeks as he rides. It’s a sharp, undeniable truth that cuts through his thoughts, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He had come to return her bracelet, a simple task with a clear objective. He should have done it when she’d returned his jacket. Yet, standing before her, seeing the familiar glint in her eyes and the way her hair framed her face, he found himself unable to follow through.

The bracelet's weight was a physical discomfort, pressing against his leg as if to remind him of her.

Perhaps that’s why he chooses to take it with him to university too.

Months later, she doesn’t know what to expect when she bumps into Daeron at the library - but it’s certainly not this.

It’s not quite bumping, to be honest. She’s off in the corner studying, the same corner that they used to share. It seemed that he still favored the same table, because he came to it too, only to freeze in her presence.

Neither of them says a word until he weakly mumbles.

“Hey.”

She gulps and quickly stands, the awkwardness pervading her very senses as she - for the first time in her entire life - feels uncomfortably clueless around him. “I was just leav-”

He’s quick to cage her, and her breath is knocked out. She remembers a time when she’d have killed to be this close to him.

“You’re not going anywhere till we talk.”

She’s tilting her head to the side in a defeated motion but he does not deter, so she sighs and gives in.

How bad could it possibly be?

They’re on the sidewalk, walking together but as strangers - a stark contrast to how it used to be. The reminder is sharp as a horrid pain shoots through her skull, a dull headache forming at the thought of all that has happened coming back. Her hands clutch onto the straps of her backpack tighter than ever before, knuckles going white.

She buys them their drinks as he gets what used to be their regular table at Nightblooms, the quaint cafe near the school that she loves. His Sunspearino and her King’s Landing Iced Tea are cold in her hands as she takes them over to the table. She pushes his glass to him wordlessly as he mutters his thanks.

She absentmindedly stirs with her straw, eyes trained on the floor. The awkwardness is seemingly never ending, but he’s always been quite the seamless crowd puller.

“How have you been?”

Her nod is all over the place as she focuses on the wall behind him, and he sighs. “Seriously, how long is it going to be like this?”

Her nose flares at his apparent impatience - what did he expect?

“I know you. I know you. You’re not the kind to be angry for long. So why are you being like this with me?”

She still says nothing, now sipping on her drink as she looks out the window, watching the herd of vehicles passing by. She counts two green cars before he continues.

“I miss you. I miss… my best friend.”

There it is. The words she’s hated her entire life.

“You seemed to be doing fine without me earlier.” She’s bitter and it’s pointless, she knows. She’s perhaps even taking it a bit far. But she feels the way she feels and there’s little she can do to make it go away.

“I made a mistake. I am sorry for it. Do you really not want to forgive me?”

She shouldn’t. She hates how he treated her. She hates how he left her behind. She hates how after all this time, he can still pull her in like nothing’s happened. She hates him, him, him-

Most of all, she hates how little it takes to get her to forgive him.

She hates how much she misses him too.

“I was in love with you, you know.” The words tumble out before she can even make sense of what she’s saying.

And there it was.

She’s dreamt of saying this to him a hundred different ways - not one of her dreams involved them seated across each other like this, with her barely holding onto her sanity.

It takes all of her patience to not pull her hair out right then.

“I know.”

Words are usually wind, but these are a boot-clad foot; they threaten to crush the life out of her with each moment that passes.

“I asked him why he never said anything, and he said he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Hm.” She hears the sound of a lighter click on the other end, and she knows he’s smoking. She can picture him clearly. His black t-shirt, hair in a slick man bun, his leather jacket probably slung to the side or left haphazardly on his bed on a throw. The smoke would billow out in small puffs as he flexes his knuckles like he always does.

“And then we just… I don’t know. Just sort of sat there for a bit. “

“Hm.”

“We didn’t say much after. I was much too embarrassed to continue and he seemed tired as well. Just finished our drinks and he insisted on walking me home.”

For what seems like a long moment, Aemond says nothing. The silence stretches between them, but it's not uncomfortable. She can hear him exhale slowly and there's the soft rustle of his jacket as he shifts. She knows Aemond is there, just taking his time to process everything. The distant hum of the city is barely noticeable against the rhythm of his steady breathing, the occasional flex of his knuckles making a soft, almost imperceptible pop.

She stretches on her own bed before shifting to her side and finally asks, “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice softer now. There's a pause before he continues, “Are you… do you still have feelings for him?”

Her breath catches slightly. She hasn’t been asked this directly, not ever. “It hasn’t completely gone away,” she admits. “There’s always going to be something there. But no, not quite as I used to.”

He hums again, and she imagines him taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him. “Good. Maybe it’s time to focus on other things. Other people.”

She smiles at his gentle nudge. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Speaking of other people, have you made any new friends at university? Meet anyone interesting?”

Aemond hesitates, and she can almost hear him weighing his words. “Yeah, a few people.”

She grins, sensing an opportunity. “Anyone special?”

He’s silent for a beat too long. “Hm...”

“Is that a yes?” Her excitement is barely concealed.

“Perhaps.”

Her grin widens. “Oh, come on, Aemond. You can’t just say ‘perhaps’ and leave it at that. Tell me!”

He sighs, and she can tell he’s trying not to smile. “There’s someone, but it’s nothing serious.”

Her curiosity piqued, she presses on. “What’s their name?”

“No.”

She laughs, teasing him. “Give me something!”

“Hm.”

“Just a hint?”

“No.”

She pouts, though she knows he can’t see it. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Nothing much to say. It’s… too soon.”

He’s never been one to divulge at her insistence, but she can’t resist one last playful prod. “Fine, but you owe me details eventually.”

“Maybe,” he says, his tone somewhat lighter than before.

She smiles, feeling closer to him despite the distance. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

She can’t see him, and he’s quite far away - but she’s convinced he’s smiling, in that arrogant, self assured way that he always does.

She’s two months away from completing school for good when her acceptance to Oldtown arrives.

She’s under no illusions about any of it. She may be smart and have great grades, but it is her family’s faint traces of aristocracy and their connections to the businesses of some of the greatest families of Westeros that makes the stick fall in her favor.

She’ll just have to make sure she’s worth it.

I’m in, see you in 3 months, she texts him. The waving ellipsis forms in his chat almost instantly, and she knows he’s happy for her.

Congratulations . Happy for you.

Moving away for university and starting fresh is her only motivation to keep going, she finds. The idea of a clean slate is too enticing for her own good, but she cannot help it. She is excited at the thought of Oldtown - the architecture, the weather, the libraries and the cafes can only be much more beautiful now than when she saw it all as a baby on vacation.

And there’s Aemond too.

There are many happy things to look out for. But as months pass and the time to leave dawns closer , there’s simpler pleasures - like her father being back in the city to see her graduate.

The graduation ceremony at the Visenya Targaryen Memorial School unfolds with all the grandeur one might expect from such an exclusive institution. Nestled amidst meticulously manicured gardens, the school buildings stand tall. Ivy-clad stone walls, expansive lawns, and ornate iron gates contribute to the atmosphere as some of the most prestigious and richest families assemble to see their children mark their first major milestone.

Students clad in crisp white dresses and tailored suits gather in anticipation. The scent of blooming roses mingles with the soft murmur of excited chatter, creating an air of expectant joy. The girls’ dresses, delicately embroidered and paired with modest pearls, and the boys’ sharp suits, complete with silk ties make them all look perfectly ready to step into their generational wealth.

The ceremony takes place in a grand marquee set up on the main lawn, its white canopy fluttering gently in the breeze. Inside, rows of elegant wooden chairs are adorned with satin ribbons, and an aisle carpeted in red velvet leads to a stage draped in the school’s colors. The stage itself is framed by two grand, blossoming floral arrangements.

"You look so much like your mother in certain lights," he says softly, kissing her good luck on the cheek before taking his place among the other parents. He tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear before he goes.

The Targaryens, of course, occupy the front-row seats, a privilege owed to their immense donations to the school, their status as the wealthiest family in the country and the name on the school gates. However, Criston is notably absent from their midst, instead seated among the other parents. An image must be maintained, and hell would break loose before Alicent Hightower is seen in public with the man who was once her bodyguard, especially in the company of Viserys.

She feels a pang of sympathy for Alicent; Criston spent far more time with Daeron than Viserys ever did and deserves to be at the front more than his father. The politics of appearance, however, dictate otherwise.

Helaena has come back to watch her brother graduate. Having begun her master's in microbiology at Oldtown, she is soon planning to go into research. Aegon and Aemond, however, are off on a trip. Despite his absence, Aemond sends her a text, offering his wishes and congratulations. The text is followed by a drunk jumble of letters that she manages to decipher as ‘Thank fuck you’re done with school,” which she assumes is from Aegon.

The graduates are called to the stage one by one, their names echoing through the marquee, accompanied by held back and dignified applause. When her name is finally announced, she takes a deep breath and walks up the aisle, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. She receives her diploma with a graceful nod, her gaze briefly meeting Headmaster Strong’s in a moment of shared respect.

As she returns to her seat, she catches her father's eye, his expression beaming with pride. She also notices Daeron watching her, having already received his diploma. The fleeting glance between them doesn’t make her angry or tired anymore, and she knows a conversation between them is due.

After the ceremony, she mingles with her classmates, posing for pictures with Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon. As the photographer captures their smiles, she catches sight of Daeron across the lawn. He stands with his hands on Floris' waist, speaking animatedly to Borros Baratheon and his wife. They look happy, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter.

The crowd around them seems to blur as she and Daeron finally walk towards each other. She notes the easy way Daeron holds Floris, and a surprising realization dawns on her: she doesn't care as much anymore. Perhaps this is what closure feels like, or maybe she's simply over him. The certainty eludes her, but the weight on her heart feels lighter.

"Congratulations," she says, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

“You too.”

“So, KLU?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, uhm… I am happy for you, you know?”

“I know. You never had it in you to be angry for long at me.”

She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or wring his neck for making her feel taken for granted. She chooses to smile instead.

“I think it’ll be good for us,” she says. “This time away.”

“Suppose so. Guess we’ll have quite a few stories to tell when we meet again.”

Floris’ laugh is distinctly light and they hear it from where they stand. “You’re happy.”

“I think so,” he says. She doesn’t know what to make of his uncertainty.

“Last chance to come with me to Oldtown,” she chuckles, a brazen attempt at a joke.

He chuckles. “Are we laughing about this now?” The sound of a camera clicking them makes them both turn. It is Helaena with her polaroid camera, and they’re both quick to swarm her to take a look at what she’s captured.

The visual slowly comes to life as she shakes the ever loving life out of the photo. Daeron is laughing with his head up to the sky, and she’s slowly chuckling with the back of her hand covering her mouth, her eyes looking at him.

It’s almost as if they’re best friends again.

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howyouloveyourdragon · 8 months

Text

dividers by hitobaby

ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha!rhaenyra claims sister ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha!rhaenyra claims sister part 2 ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere alpha!rhaenyra x omega half-sister betrothal ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra takes half-sister from greens power play* ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra punishes omega reader after lords flirt with her* ﾟ☁︎｡ Alpha!rhaenyra x soft shy omega!sister x alpha!daemon* ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra x Lady-in-waiting ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra takes half-sister from greens* ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra x female dragonseed* ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra x female dragonseed* part 2 ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Daemon joins Rhaenyra x half-sister ﾟ☁︎｡ Dragonseed reader saves Rhaenyra from execution & Aegon the young ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Rhaenyra x Valyrian sorceress reader* ﾟ☁︎｡ Alpha Rhaenyra and omega Aegon headcanons

🇼🇮🇵🇸

ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega sister with child together fluffy ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra and laenor x aemond (platonic) headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra and laenor parenting her siblings ﾟ☁︎｡ headcanons of alpha rhaenyra x omega half sister parenting their kids ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (romance) ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x aegon (romantic) headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent x omega leana headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ daemon & rhaenyra x fem!reader in charge ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra targaryen x dragonseed!reader claiming her dragon for the first time ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x yandere daemon x half sister (blacks win au) ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon male!reader ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x daemons bastard daughter (platonic) ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra x royce-targ!reader ﾟ☁︎｡ headcanons of alpha rhaenyra x omega half sister parenting their kids ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent x omega laena headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (romance) ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x aegon (romantic) headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x son cole!reader x yandere laenor headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra x twin!reader soulmate au ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra and velaryon!son with laenor headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x helaena ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x handmaiden ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x female dragonkeeper headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere mom rhaenyra x orphan reader headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega velaryion reader headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega hightower reader headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega daenerys headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra x omega!hightower alt ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega!sister part 2 ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega velaryon reader headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega hightower reader headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ politically smart hightower x rhaenyra (part 2) ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega male velaryon!reader ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x tyrell omega reader ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent (arranged marriage) ﾟ☁︎｡alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent x alpha daemon headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡yandere rhaenyra and haelena (platonic) headcanons

🇼🇮🇵🇸

ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent x omega leana headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent (arranged marriage) ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent x alpha daemon headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ rhaenyra x alicent open marriage w/ laenor headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x alicent (blacks win au) ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x alpha laena x omega alicent headcanons

ﾟ☁︎｡No Rest For The Dragons ﾟ☁︎｡The Softest Love

🇼🇮🇵🇸

ﾟ☁︎｡ jacaerys overstim smut, 'Too Much, Too Little' ﾟ☁︎｡ baela & jacaerys x reader ﾟ☁︎｡ helaena x jace headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ jace x reader confession prompt 11 ﾟ☁︎｡ jace x reader prompt 30 ﾟ☁︎｡ jace x reader flustered prompts

ﾟ☁︎｡ Alpha Rhaenyra and omega Aegon platonic headcanons

🇼🇮🇵🇸

ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (romance) ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x aegon (romantic) headcanons

🇼🇮🇵🇸

ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x helaena ﾟ☁︎｡ helaena x jace headcanons ﾟ☁︎｡ helaena has peace for herself

ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha!rhaenyra x soft shy omega!sister x alpha!daemon* ﾟ☁︎｡ Yandere Daemon joins Rhaenyra x half-sister

🇼🇮🇵🇸

ﾟ☁︎｡ daemon x fem!reader steamy bath smut ﾟ☁︎｡ daemon & rhaenyra x fem!reader in charge ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (romance) ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (romance) ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x yandere daemon x half sister (blacks win au) ﾟ☁︎｡ yandere rhaenyra x daemons bastard daughter (platonic) ﾟ☁︎｡ daemon x reader comfort ﾟ☁︎｡ daemon x hightower fem!reader ﾟ☁︎｡ alpha rhaenyra x omega alicent x alpha daemon headcanons

#requests #hotd requests #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon ii x reader #daemon targaryen x reader

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thebadboyfanclub · 2 years

Text

You Bled For Them, You Decide Pt.2 (Daemon x Reader)

So a lot of people requested a part two of this and had some requests on what should it be about, the stakes were high so I hope I did not disappoint you. Enjoy!

Part one

(Y/n) was not a fool, she was sure that the second she steps foot in Targaryen ground all eyes would be on her, the mystery woman that managed to tame the rogue prince. She despised that nickname, (y/n)s opinion was that her dear husband had simply leaned towards violence to make up for the pain he had felt, Daemon was a passionate man which meant he loved as deeply as he hated, she knew Daemon would burn the seven kingdoms to ensure that their family is safe, he was a man of honour.

“Do you truly believe a character like prince Daemon has settled?”

“It certainly looks like it, he hasn’t stepped away from her and the children for longer than a minute”

“The children… well at least with this union no one can question their true parentage”

Otto whispered the last part only for his daughter queen Alicent to hear. Everyone was at awe how none of the kids had inherited their mothers features except small details,(y/n) adored the fact that they looked like the father, she was unaware what a big role on their safety that played.

“I believe we must introduce ourselves, would be interesting”

Alicent suggested while her father hummed in agreement, in almost complete unison they began to walk towards the couple that was pre occupied with the king.

“Alicent and Otto, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Daemon questioned ironically, (y/n)s eyebrow was raised in confusion as she looked up at him for clues about the sudden change on his demeanour.

“Prince Daemon, it’s been so long since we last saw you, you were newly widowed at the time”

“Widowed?”

(Y/n) never pressured Daemon to speak of his past, he revealed what he wished while he laid on her chest and let her to brush his silver hair with her fingers. Daemons eyes squinted at the smart remark Lord Otto had thrown at him, he was looking for a way to cause a problems in his marriage.

“Your lady wife seems oblivious to the fact that you were wed prior”

Alicent noticed, (y/n) tried to keep her composure and patiently wait until they are alone to question her husband. Daemon was ready for war, they were pushing the boundaries in order to get what they want, to destroy what he worked so hard for and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I was forced into a marriage for alliance that is correct, (y/n) is my first true match, I thank the Gods for sending her to me every morrow”

Daemon was being genuine, his lady wife had been a miracle, the Gods took pity on him and showed him what it is like to have a reason to come back from battle alive. Daemon took his (y/n)s hand in his to place a kiss on her knuckles, (y/n) smiled even though her mind had stored the new information for another time, it wouldn’t be wise to pick a fight while attending a funeral.

“Such tender words, I am glad you have left your infatuation with princess Rhaenyra behind you”

The sentence that was spoken from the Queens lips made (y/n)s blood ran cold, the woman that she had just been introduced to had an affair with Daemon? It could not be, she was a married woman, the daughter of his own brother, “no that wouldn’t stop him, he is a Targaryen” she thought as her hands started to shake from anger. Thankfully her eldest daughter cut the conversation short before push came to shove and (y/n) showed her temper, the girl was panting while her cheeks were severely blushed from running around, she hadn’t been this blissful in weeks.

“Mother, can me and Aemond go play in the shore?”

“Aemond?!”

Daemon exclaimed, earning a side eye from everyone, if he had it his way his children would never play along side Alicents children, maybe little Heleana would be an exception but that would be it, especially when it came to his precious daughters he hated when they would be boys around them, even worst if they were hightowers.

(Y/n) did not spare a look at her lord husband, she simply tucked away a few strands of hair that seemed to stick on the young girls sweaty forehead and smiled lovingly, Alyssa was in much need of a companion, she loved her siblings but she would always have to take care of them.

“Of course my little deer, better yet I’ll come with you. I would love to meet your new friend Aemond”

(Y/n) had managed to discreetly slip away from everyone, she found joy at watching her daughter play carelessly with her new friend, the timid Aemond that barely raised his gaze to (y/n) when introduced, still he ran with Alyssa around the shore as they had both taken their shoes off and splashed in the water.

(y/n) could stay like this together, away from everyone with her family while they enjoyed the simple things life had to offer, it’s what her and Daemon had in common, although she could identify that Daemon had missed his brother, perhaps he missed princess Rhaenyra as well.

“Come along sweetlings, it’s getting dark”

“Mother please just a few more minutes”

“Fine, I will make sure your siblings are sleeping and then I will come back to escort you”

“Thank you lady (y/n)”

Aemond replied with the utmost respect. (Y/n) simply smiled as she turned her back on the children, with the assistance of a kind knight she was guided to the room (y/n), Daemon and little Johanna would occupy for the night, she had already peeked inside the other rooms for her children to find the sleeping peacefully.

To her misfortune she never had great memory when it came to directions, getting lost by turning left instead of right or was it right instead of left? She cursed under her breath for not looking around for clues when she had the chance.

“I need you uncle, I cannot fight them alone”

“You know I would support you if war occurred Rhaenyra”

The voices that reached her ears made her come to a halt, her back found the cold wall to rest so she can listen to her husbands conversation with the princess, she had put on such a brave fight to forget what was said about their affair before (y/n) came to his life, excusing it as a spur of a moment and feelings long forgotten, now there she was hiding in the dark to catch them whispering.

“I do not need you as a soldier Daemon, i want us to bind our blood”

“Rhaenyra”

“Do you love her?”

Tears welled up in (y/n)s eyes, this could not be. He brought to his homeland just to embarrass her? To parade his children and leave (y/n) in the dust? Did she marry such a cruel man? She felt like her heart was going to come out her throat at the sound of those words.

“More than life itself”

“So my love for you meant nothing?”

“You were a child Rhaenyra, we both made mistakes”

“You did not love me?”

“Of course I did”

“My love?”

(Y/n) came out of her hiding spot, she wasn’t going to let the princess sway her husbands words, Daemon had declared his love and the princess did not want to give up, she was toying with (y/n)s wedlock like the life of her and her children including the pain this will cause meant nothing.

Daemon focused on his wife, smiling at the sight of her, Rhaenyra turned to face her as well, Daemon could see that (y/n) heard everything, he identified the fire of fury in her eyes, she appeared with reason.

“Where are the children my dear?”

“Alyssa is playing with Aemond, I will go to collect them now but I have seem to get lost within the castle”

“I shall escort you then, excuse me princess Rhaenyra”

Daemon took (y/n)s hand in his as they left Rhaenyra in shambles, he left her for (y/n), his morals did not buckle at the slightest, not even for Rhaenyra.

As they turned the corner (y/n) took off her polite mask, her hand gripped on to his as she held him back from walking even further, Daemon felt his heart skip a beat at the fact that (y/n) was clearly upset. He did not prepare her correctly for this visit, he should have known that the greens would try to tear them apart.

“A wife? An affair? With your own niece at that”

“All before I met you my love”

“That’s not my point, I looked like a fool in front of everyone. Here I am, your wife that did knew nothing of these acts of yours, we are a union and we appeared weak against the hawks eye”

Daemon had guessed she would be frustrated about the acts, he couldn’t be more wrong. (Y/n) had heard of tales about her husband, his thirst over women, she only cared about how she appeared like their union was fickle, that they were secrets between them.

Daemon let out a breath before he took (y/n) for a hug, she did not respond immediately but gave in to wrapping her arms around him after a moment.

“I apologise my love, I will fix it”

“You better or you will have to start looking for a third wife”

Haste heavy steps pulled them apart from one another, curiosity taking over them as they waited for the person to appear. A knight stood before them, clearly stressed, (y/n)s heart clenched tight.

“The kids”

“Your children are alright however you must follow me”

The couple ran to wherever the knight guided them, (y/n) was the first to burst in the room, Alyssa stood next to her friend Aemond who was getting stitched up in the eye. (Y/n) skipped over to her and instantly started looking for wounds, Daemon took in the room as everyone gathered, Baela and Rhaena crying in their grandmothers arms and Lucerys had a nose bleed as he was also crying.

“I am unharmed mother”

“What happened? I told you to be careful with Aemond”

“It wasn’t my fault, Aemond claimed a dragon so we went for a flight when we got ambushed by the others that claimed Vhagar was meant for Rhaena and I… mother I swear I tried to defend Aemond, it was four against two”

“It’s alright my dear, you did your best”

Alyssa spoke honestly, Jacaerys had restrained her when the others attacked Aemond, everything happened so fast she did not have time to process what to do, she did everything she could to defend Aemond, now he had lost his eye.

(Y/n) hugged her daughter tightly, thanking the Gods for sparing her daughter from harm. Everyone was occupied with blaming one another to notice (y/n) wince from pain, her labour had started, she had been through this multiple times she had knowledge of the pains starting early, it was not the time to focus on that as of yet.

“It was my sons that were attacked and forced to defend themselves, vile accusations were spoke from prince Aemond”

“No he did not”

“Alyssa”

“No mother they attacked him”

“He held a rock”

“After you started beating him and then you took a knife out you meant to kill him”

Alyssa was furious, she had seen everything and was appalled by such hostile behaviour especially within family members. Alyssa had grown into an environment that love and respect was shown to everyone, to be met with such hatred was a new found grown for the young girl, Daemon smirked at her daughter fighting against princess Rhaenyra and cutting her off before she could finish, Alyssa had a backbone stronger than any child her age.

“My king this is the highest of treachery and since the girl wants to take prince Aemonds side I ask both of them to be questioned for their treason”

“my child nor any will be questioned like they are criminals, I would have hoped for a woman of such high rank to have some respect for a child that has been permanently scarred from your own kin”

“Are you accusing me of something lady (y/n)?”

“I am defending what’s right which is what my daughter did as well, you are protecting your own and so will I”

“Enough!”

The king intervened. Daemon tried to bring (y/n) back from her anger by placing a hand on her shoulder, truly he did not want to do it still he worried over how heavily pregnant wife, she should not feel any type of uneasiness at such delicate state.

He was certain (y/n) could stand her ground and defend their family better than anyone, a side of him relished it when (y/n) pushed back at others and protected their children, her fire and quick tongue was his favourite things about her.

“Lady (y/n) is right, princess Alyssa has done nothing wrong”

“She stood against the heir”

“She defended her friend, titles don’t mean shit to our family pri- ow”

She could not hold back any longer, she felt liquid ran against her leg as the pain similar to knife cutting her belly made her lose her cool. Daemon was quick on his feet as (y/n) put her hands on her knees to hold herself up against the pain, daemon wrapped his hands around his wife to help her up, worry written all over his face.

“What is it my love?”

“My labours started”

“Maester-“

“No maesters, take me to my room now”

She interrupted the queen, everyone stood still not knowing what to do next. Alyssa stood next to her mother so she can rub her belly to soothe the pain, she had been present at the birth of her siblings for as long as she remembered, it was almost muscle memory now.

“Lady (y/n) I promise you i am very experienced with delivering babes for the royal-”

“Oh Fuck off will you? I said no fucking maesters, Daemon please hurry or I will push this babe out for your entire family to see”

“As you wish my love”

In one swift motion Daemon swooped (y/n) from her feet to rush her to the privacy of their own room, Alyssa followed quickly with queen Alicent, the Maester and princess Rhaenyra hot on their trail, as they were all amazed by (y/n)s resilience they wanted to witness the woman giving birth on her own, as (y/n) breathed heavy she leaned her head on her husbands shoulder.

“This is going to be a quick one”

(Y/n) could time her pains growing stronger at such short period of time, her babe was rushing to come out to the point (y/n) did not think she would make it to her room.

Fortunately she was wrong, as Daemon kicked the door open to quickly lay (y/n) in the bed Alyssa sat behind her mother to help her sit up while the mothers back laid against her daughters chest. Alyssa admired her mothers strength more than anything, she viewed (y/n) as the strongest person alive and loved that she was allowed to be included to the birth of her siblings, secretly scheming to follow the tradition of a private birth.

“Everyone out”

“The maester should stay in case of any assistance-“

“Daemon I can feel the head”

(Y/n) screamed from the pain, roaring her babe out that did not wait for anyone or anything. The family quickly forgot the presence of outsiders as they supported (y/n) for her birth, (y/n) held her daughter with one hand as Daemon lifted his wives dress to help her with any way he can.

“Almost there (y/n), give it one strong push and you will hold our babe in your arms”

He encouraged her while Alyssa stroked her mothers hair with her free hand. The trio that stood a few meters away were like statues, the queen was deeply moved by the love that lingered in the room and Alicent clenched the charm of the seven that hang from her neck, her children’s birth so strongly connected with the people in the room, the family had a bond that was rare in this world.

Soon enough cries of the babe echoed in the room as everyone in unison let out a breath of relief, (y/n)s lips curved to a triumph smiled as she saw her babe for the first time, Alyssa kissed her mothers forehead as encouragement for a job well done, amazed at the view of another sibling brought to life.

“Praise the mother”

Alicent spoke as she was the first to approach (y/n) who stretched her arms to hold the baby, tears appeared on everyone’s cheeks except the maesters and the only thing you could hear was the cries of a newborn babe, what a magical sound that was to a mothers ears.

“A princess is born to driftmark, Maester let everyone know (y/n) delivered her babe”

Rhaenyra instructed, she internally admitted defeat since there was nothing she could do anymore, watching Daemon so involved in the birth and cry tears of joy as he held the bloody babe in his arms was enough proof of there romance having no chance of reconciliation. Daemon sat next to (y/n)s bed as he observed his wife holding their babe in her arms and their eldest holding her mother in her arms with her eyes full of love.

“Well done my moon, what a gift you blessed me with, another beautiful and heathy daughter”

“Welcome to our family Maegora”

(Y/n) whispered as she held her baby, Alyssa gasped at the choice of the name, Alyssa had suggested it a while back and her father had laughed at the choice and the fear it would install to everyone’s hearts.

Daemon was actually fond of the name, still he had a habit of teasing his children so he just leaned to kiss (y/n)s lips, she was so beautiful after she delivered their children, a glow unlike any other as the light of candles was the only source of light, his devotion to her was as deep as any religious person, his heart only beat because hers did.

“You are radiating my love”

Requests are open!

@slutmeoutsworld @ayamenimthiriel @the-phantom-of-arda @babystudentroadthing @pearlstiare @bxdbxtxh15 @lazypinkpig

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