#hotd fanficition

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rheanys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rheanys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

Know that I long

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

Know that I'm home

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

[dedicatednotobsessed]

hiii! I've noticed there's been a few Ewan fics on here and they're all SO GOOD! haha, genuinely. I was wondering if it would be okay to request a fic idea for him?

essentially, reader's newest role is that of a crazy person. she has fun with the role and everyone seems to enjoy it, especially ewan who happens to be a fan of hers. she's heard good things about his career too and they get a proper chance to meet in the form of an interview. they talk about eachother's careers, what is was like for reader to embody that role and both are just fascinated by eachother haha. months later and the two are an official couple, all cute wherever they go and just adore eachother. please? 😊

Of course! For more Ewan/Aemond + other HOTD character/actor requests, my ask box is always open 💚

Fans to Lovers [Ewan Mitchell x Reader]

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: You had recently began press for an upcoming psychological thriller, playing the lead antagonist. While doing an interview, the interviewer brings up one of your biggest fans: Ewan Mitchell. You begin to talk about how much you love his work and it turns out he was listening the entire time. As you talk about your careers, you begin to feel a connection with him….

You hummed along to the song currently playing on your phone as you finished up your makeup. You had a collection of interviews to promote your new movie, a psychological thriller. You were most excited for your fans to see this, having put a lot of work into becoming the crazed character you played. It was a change to most characters you have played before and you hoped your fans loved it as much as you loved playing her.

You put your hair up to keep it out of your face, glancing down at the time. “Shit,” You swore realizing you were going to be late.

You rushed to collect your purse and keys, struggling to put your shoes on. You are not known for your punctuality, that much was true.

“Bye Khaleesi!” You called to your cat while rushing out, your cat only staring at you as you closed and locked the door behind you.

Khaleesi was a young white fluffy cat with blue eyes, being named after one of your favorite Game of Thrones characters. She was a star all over your social media and since you don’t have any real children yet, she is the only daughter you have.

You kept glancing at the time, sighing as you barely made it to the interview. You rushed out fixing your hair while walking in. You still wanted to look presentable.

“There’s Miss. Punctuality!” Your manager called teasingly seeing you run into the green room.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “I’m still on time!”

“By a minute.”

You held up your finger. “But a minute still counts,” You said in a matter of fact tone.

“Whatever am I going to do with you?” Your manager asked with a raised brow.

“Oh.” You waved your hand a bit. “You act as though you hate me,” You said jokingly.

Your manager chuckled while urging you out once you put your stuff down. “But now you are officially late for your interview.”

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“There she is!”

You smiled at the interviewer while laughing a bit. “I know, I know. I already got my ass chewed out by manager.”

The interviewer laughed a bit and smiled as an assistant came over to touch up her makeup while you sat down opposite from her. You tapped your foot lightly, looking down at your hands.

“So!” The interviewer began, a bit chirpy, with a wide smile on her perfect white teeth. “It is so nice to meet you, Y/N. I was lucky enough to see the movie early and I must say, your performance is so beautiful.”

You returned the interviewer’s smile, lightly pushing your hair out of your face. “Thank you,” You said giggling a bit.

The interviewer smiled lightly before placing a hand against her ear, having an ear piece in. She furrowed her brows a bit. “Oh he’s here already? Great! Send him in!”

You raised a brow a bit. “I’m sorry? Is there something going on?”

“Well, I heard it was your birthday week, Y/N,” The interviewer began, a smile never leaving her face. “I also heard one of your favorite actors was Ewan Mitchell....”

You furrowed your brows and looked over when the door opened, gasping at the sight of the man walking through the side door. You loved all of his projects from World on Fire to The Last Kingdom. 

“Am I early?” Ewan asked with a small smile.

The interviewer smiled and shook her head. “Please take a seat.”

“Ewan told us how big of a fan he was of your work and wanted to ask about your most recent role,” The interviewer said with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You giggled a bit nervously and smiled over at Ewan. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I had a really fun time with this character.”

Ewan looked over at you with a small and soft smile. You thought to yourself how much more good looking he was in real life. You turned away, your cheeks flushing red when you noticed you were staring at him for a bit too long.

The boy laughed a bit. “Am I making you nervous, love?”

You shook your head while smiling more. “This is just an amazing birthday present,” You said, giggling.

Ewan chuckled and smiled wrapping an arm around you. “So, I just wanted to know how you prepared for this role...I’m sorry I shouldn’t be the one asking the questions.”

The interviewer laughed a bit while waving her hand. “Go right ahead, Ewan.”

You laughed a bit at how your face just became redder. It was clear how nervous you were, failing at hiding it. “Um, I got inspiration from the DC character, Harley Quinn,” You replied, laughing at how shaky your voice was. “I studied her movie and show appearances, really feeling for how crazy she was and just embodying that into my character.”

Ewan nodded as he listened, smiling when the two of you made eye contact. Not only was he even more good looking in person, but his blue eyes were even more beautiful. Seeing them on a screen didn’t do them justice. 

You noticed both Ewan and the interviewer were staring at you and you blinked after a moment. “I’m sorry did someone ask a question?”

Both burst into laughter, Ewan grinning wide. “I’m really glad I got invited to come and meet you, love.”

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“We’re going to be late, love!”

“I’m almost ready!” You called back, looking over at Khaleesi while you put your earrings in. “Don’t give me that look,” You mumbled with a small smile reaching over to pet her. 

You lifted up the skirt of your dress and grabbed your heels as you walked through the bedroom. Tonight was the premiere of your movie and you were excited to see your fans’ reactions. 

“Can you help me with my heels?” You pouted at your boyfriend as you came out to the living room.

Ewan let out a sigh but he had a smile on his lips. “Come here, Cinderella.”

You giggled and sat down your heels, smiling happily as Ewan bent down to help you with your shoes. Ever since the interview about four months ago, the two of you connected and eventually it became something more. You remembered when you announced it on social media, all of your fans were going crazy. 

Ewan stood up and pulled you close, wrapping an arm around you. “You look absolutely stunning,” He breathed out.

You scrunched up your nose while placing your hands on his chest, a loving smile on your lips. “It helps that I have such a handsome date,” You whispered leaning up to kiss him gently.

Ewan met you halfway, his lips softly connecting with yours. “We should really get going or else we will be late,” He stated once he released the kiss while chuckling a bit.

You held tight onto your boyfriend’s hand once you arrived at the venue, the premiere only barely starting. Although you were the star and possibly one of the last cast members to arrive, you would still say you arrived on time.

You smiled lovingly at your boyfriend, scrunching up your nose as fans cheered for the two of you. The cameras loved the two of you while Ewan held you close to him, your head on his chest with wide smiles on both of your faces.

“I know I am going to wake up tomorrow to a lot of fans talking about how cute we are tonight, but they think we’re cute everyday,” You whispered to him laughing a bit.

Ewan chuckled and kissed the top of your head, closing your eyes. “Well, I think we are a pretty cute couple,” He stated.

You looked up at him while smiling more. “Damn right we are,” You replied and kissed him gently on the lips, giggling a bit. 

It was a dream to date one of your celebrity crushes. You never imagined that you would date, let alone, meet Ewan. The world does work in mysterious ways though and it seemed to work in your favor. You felt as though Ewan was the love of your life, although it sounded crazy being together for only four months, but it felt right. It felt as though Ewan Mitchell was your person and you were his.

[xgawdzillax]

if you like to read fanfics and you’re a GoT fan (specifically HoTD), please take a minute and peep my new fic i wrote 🖤

[dedicatednotobsessed]

✨ Can I request a fluffy one shot where Daemon and reader are expecting their first child? ✨

Daemon and reader could pick out a dragon egg for their child's cradle? Reader let's Daemon pick the egg since he has been over the moon excited about this pregnancy? He would be such a devoted daddy 😭

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Of course! For more HOTD requests, just submit a strong snack to Vhagar through my ask box 💚 {I will be opening my ask box soon for The Last Kingdom and Game of Thrones requests, so keep an eye out for that announcement! 💕}

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Issa dōna [Daemon Targaryen x Pregnant!Reader]

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: Your one dream in life had always been to find a good husband {one that will serve your house well} and be a loyal wife and loving mother. After a constant battle with your Uncle, King Viserys, you were able to take your one true love’s hand in marriage, your other Uncle Daemon. As a young girl, you had dreamt of being with him; he seemed to be everything in a perfect husband: loyal, caring, and loving. It only seemed to be proven more so that he was the right choice when he hears some exciting news….

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A small gleeful giggle passed your lips while your dragon landed in the sands of Dragonstone, glancing over when the second dragon landed beside you. Only hours ago you were in the capital marrying the love of your life, your Uncle turned husband, Daemon.

Ever since you were a young girl, you had an infatuation towards your Uncle and it only grew the older you became, maturing into a young woman. You ended up in the King's care when you were a babe, your mother having passed during childbirth and your father- the youngest brother to the King and Daemon- having tragically passed in battle during the early stages of your mother's pregnancy. Viserys treated you as his own and you could not be more thankful for him.

You smiled happily when Daemon offered his hand, taking it and sliding down, your white silken dress lightly flowing around you. You turned hearing the trills from Saphira and reached up to pat her neck, her deep blue scales shimmering in the moonlight.

"I believe Saphira is looking forward to her new home," You stated fully turning to your husband, your violet eyes meeting his matching ones.

Daemon smiled lightly as he reached up to push back a loose strand of your hair. "Well, she has no choice in the matter, does she?"

You giggled at the slightly teasing tone of his voice. "I suppose she does not," You agreed.

He moved his hand to your waist beginning to lead you to the castle, your new home. You let your gaze wander over the various tapestries of the Dragons from Old Valyria; the painted cloth telling the tale of the Doom of Valyria. Some of the newer tapestries down the long hallway resembled Aegon’s conquest, including his wives Viserya and Rhaenys.

You came back to reality when Daemon opened the door to your marital chambers, looking around as you walked in; it was slightly smaller than your chambers back in the capital. You walked over to the roaring fire that was awaiting you while Daemon went for the fresh pitcher of wine. Your violet eyes shimmered as the flames flickered, your mind wandering.

A dragon is only deserving of a dragon and through their flames, they will burn together. That is what Daemon would always tell you anyway.

A small smile crept onto your lips feeling a hand on your waist, giggling when Daemon pulled you into his chest. You hummed as he leaned down, his lips attaching to your neck.

“You know,” You began, smiling more when he bit down on your sweet spot. “We left before we had a chance to do the bedding ceremony.”

Daemon hummed in response while he swayed the two of you. “Is that so?” He smirked lightly as you turned in his arms, reaching up to push back a strand of your silver hair. “We should get right on that then, hm?”

“We should,” You agreed smiling lovingly at your husband.

Your husband…it felt foreign almost to call your Uncle said title, yet at the same time…it felt right. You had fought long and hard to have this marriage, willing to risk everything for the love you two shared.

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“Uncle, please.”

“How many times do I have to say no to you, Y/N?” Viserys sounded agitated as he sat beside his model of Old Valyria, rubbing at his temple.

You had been discussing with your Uncle close to one moon now asking for Prince Daemon’s hand and the answer had always been the same…no. You did not understand why he would not let you marry Daemon; a part of you believed it was from the influence of the Lord Hand, Otto Hightower.

“We are done here.” Viserys waved his hand causing you to frown.

“But, Uncle-“ You began to protest.

“I said we are done, Y/N!”

You sighed deeply at the way the King’s voice rose to you; you were used to it, however. He has made the comment once or twice of you being his political headache since you had refused each and every single proposal that was brought to your feet. In some cases, you were worse than his blood daughter, Rhaenyra whom you had strayed from in the last year or so. The two of you shared feelings for the same man which caused jealousy and it only became worse when it was announced that Rhaenyra was to be wed to Ser Laenor Velaryon which meant you had more of a chance for Daemon to take your hand in marriage.

You looked down at the grounds of the garden with your hands clasped in front of you, your brows knit together as your mind ran with thoughts. It had been a few days since the last discussion with your Uncle and you had not spoken to him since he announced a feast by the upcoming moon cycle- a feast to find a proper husband for yourself. You had always promised yourself that you would not suffer the same fate as Rhaenyra but it seems as though the gods were cruel.

“And why would a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms want to wander the gardens all by herself?”

You furrowed your brows a bit at the unfamiliar voice and turned to see a young man with wavy shoulder-length dark hair.

“I apologize…who are you?”

The man chuckled lightly. “Forgive me, Princess. I am William Mooton, the only living child of Lord Mooton.”

You hummed in response with a cocked brow. “I am Princess Y/N but you clearly knew that.”

William smirked lightly at the tone of your voice. “The tales of Targaryen beauty do not do you justice, Princess. You are even more beautiful in person.”

You returned his smirk. “Well thank you, my lord.”

William nodded his head, his smirk turning into a smile. “May I accompany you, Princess?”

You let your eyes wander over the young man for a moment, your smirk still on your lips. You could not even deny how handsome of a man he was; perhaps this upcoming feast would not be too bad after all if more suitors had a similar appearance to William of House Mooton.

“If you insist, my lord,” You replied after a moment, a genuine smile filling your face.

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As the moon began to end its cycle, the festivities seemed to grow and grow which caused a dark saddened cloud to begin to loom over you. The more people that arrived, the more your heart grew heavy because the one person you wanted was not there.

The feasting hall was filled with chatter and laughter of various lords and ladies who hoped that you would choose their son as a potential suitor. The only viable option it seemed was William Mooton, but even then your heart still yearned for Daemon.

You glanced up when a figure walked over to you and offered William a soft smile as he took the spot beside you. “You look quite lovely tonight, my princess,” William told you quietly.

You nodded a bit in response, your smile widening slightly. “Thank you, my lord.”

He let his eyes rake over your features for a moment before he cleared his throat sitting up. “I was wondering if you would like to have a dance with me.”

William had been trying to make sure you chose him in the end as your husband by offering a dance every night. You had politely refused every single one, but the cycle was ending and you needed to choose a suitor soon enough before you would be stuck with a lesser lord who had a cock the size of his pinkie finger.

You reached out to take his hand as the doors blew open causing everyone to turn their heads, a small gasp passing your lips at the sight of Prince Daemon. The hall seemed to grow silent while the Prince with short silver hair strolled towards the head table, a smug smirk on his features. You always remembered that he enjoyed his grand entrances.

Viserys stared at his younger brother, his brows furrowed. He did not even inform him that there was a suitor feast in your honor; he had hoped he would stay away yet, Daemon always seemed to make an appearance. Whether he was invited or not, and more often than not, he was not invited.

Daemon did not mind the eyes on him as he took a seat at the end of the table, his gaze catching yours. He let out a low chuckle. “Do not be surprised to see me, my sweet niece.”

You stumbled on your words, silently thanking the King when he was the first to speak up; “it is quite a surprise that you are here, brother.”

Daemon hummed in response. “I am not one to miss my brother’s feasts,” He replied offering him a small smile. “Besides, I do wish to fight in the tourney on the morrow as your champion.”

Viserys chuckled lightly. “I do not think that would be wise, Daemon.”

“And why is that?” The Prince questioned with a cocked brow.

“The tourney is for Princess Y/N’s hand,” Otto spoke up. “Unless she is to choose a husband tonight.”

Daemon scoffed at the voice of Otto Hightower. The two men never got along and Daemon was not afraid to voice his opinions of the other man; a cunt is the term he enjoyed using. “I still wish to fight as your champion, brother.”

“With all due respect-“

“With all due respect, Lord Hand, I did not ask for your opinion,” Daemon cut him off, smirking at the glare Otto gave him.

Viserys relaxed in his seat, rubbing at his temples from the headache his brother was clearly giving him. “Prince Daemon will be my champion,” He said after a moment.

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The tourney certainly was a spectacle; it all came down to the King’s champion and Lord Walys’ champion- his only living child. He did not want his son to compete but William was determined and his cockiness cost him his life. Daemon gave him one swift strike to the heart with his lance and the young man fell, blood pooling out of his wound and his mouth. In the end, Daemon claimed your hand and it felt as though it was all a dream. He was the only person you ever wanted and now you had him.

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You had one hand on Daemon’s arm, the other on your rounded stomach while he led you towards the Keep. It took some time, but you were finally able to swell with the child. His child. It made you misty-eyed at the mere thought of having the love of your life’s child.

“It feels as though nothing has changed,” You breathed out walking through the familiar halls rubbing lightly at your husband’s arm.

Daemon snorted at that. “Those cunts are slowly turning it into the Faith of the Seven,” He scoffed.

You sighed softly knowing he was not talking about his brother. You stayed silent though as he led you toward the throne room where your Uncle and his wife would be waiting for your arrival. The news of your pregnancy spread rather fast through the Seven Kingdoms and everyone from the various corners of Westeros was coming in celebration of you, your husband, and your unborn babe.

"It reminds me of when we got married." You scrunched up your nose hearing all of the chatter from outside the throne room.

Daemon chuckled lightly while he looked down at you with an adoring look behind his violet eyes. He reached over to rub your swollen stomach causing you to giggle. Every night he would talk to the little dragon growing inside of you; he seemed prepared for fatherhood and it swelled your heart.

"Once the festivities are over, would you like to go to the hatchery to choose an egg for our son?" He asked standing up straight, a content smile on his features.

"And how do you know it is going to be a son?"

His smile only grew. "I can tell," He replied simply looking ahead as the doors to the throne room opened.

"Prince Daemon and Princess Y/N of House Targaryen," The man announced at the doors, the room erupting in cheers.

You smiled brightly at the crowds surrounding the pair before your eyes turned to the head table. Viserys stood there tall and proud with Alicent by his side as they led the room in cheers.

"My sweet niece," Viserys greeted stroking your cheek lightly before he moved his hand to your stomach. "I am so proud of you," He whispered.

"Thank you, Uncle," You replied quietly feeling the tears prick your eyes before giggling as he pulled you into a hug.

You returned his hug, closing your eyes while he stroked back your silver hair. "Does he make you happy?" He pulled back a bit, smiling a small smile when you nodded. "Then I am happy if you are happy."

You parted your lips in surprise; you never thought that he would approve of your marriage to Daemon. Half of you expected after his brother knocked William Mooton onto the ground in a pool of his own blood, your Uncle would have chosen another match for you. You were thankful in the end though that he had kept his word; you were becoming quite bored with William anyway.

"Thank you, Uncle," You whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Viserys smiled as he reached up to wipe your tears away before he pulled you close kissing the side of your head. "Now, go and enjoy the festivities," He stated pulling away from you with a chuckle.

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You smiled lightly at the warmth of the hatchery while you looked around, the various eggs against the wall and in the incubation chambers. Saphira's first clutch was still in the hatchery, wanting to wait until you were with child.

"Are these all of her eggs?" You asked the dragon master who nodded.

Your violet eyes wandered over the three eggs, placing a hand on the iridescent-colored egg with light speckles of blue throughout. "That is Revnass," The master spoke up.

You pulled your hand away slowly, looking up at your husband as he walked closer. Daemon ran his fingers over the red scales of an egg with a deep blue color swirled around the bottom. You smiled softly watching his eyes shine brightly while he picked up the egg, looking it over gingerly.

"Bisa iksos se mēre,” Daemon said quietly. (This is the one).

The master cleared his throat. “Ziry iksos tradition syt se muñnykeā naejot iderēbagon se drōmon.” (It is tradition for the mother to choose the egg).

You looked at the master before your eyes turned to Daemon and smiled lightly. You could see from the glimmer in his eyes how much it meant to him. You rubbed his arm lightly when he looked down at you, smiling more.

“Ziry iksos ry paktot,” You assured him quietly before your attention turned to the dragon master who looked between the two of you. “Skoros iksos pōja brōzi?” (It is all right // what is their name?).

“Moraxes,” The master replied in a gruff voice.

You looked up at Daemon, giving him a nod. “I believe you are correct, husband.”

Daemon beamed at that while the masters took the egg to take it to the chambers you two will be calling home for your time remaining in King’s Landing. He got down on his knees slowly, leaning his head against your rounded belly, his hands on either side.

“A strong dragon for a strong son,” He whispered leaning over to press a kiss gently against your clothed stomach.

In the end, you did end up having a son by the name of Alyster; he was a spitting image of his father with a similar fiery personality to him. He had a special bond with Moraxes, the two becoming an unstoppable pair. Alyster could barely keep his feet off the ground. You ended up having another child, a daughter, named Dahlya who claimed the iridescent dragon, Revnass as her own when she was a hatchling. Daemon was there for both children, being a loving husband and an even more loving father. It was the dream you have always wanted and could not ask for anything better.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Bound in Fire and Blood [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: You are the younger twin sister of Aemond Targaryen and the second youngest child to King Viserys and Queen Alicent. Growing up you were extremely close to your twin brother, practically inseparable and as you continued to grow, you realized your feelings for him were more than just a sibling love….

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a story of incest (obviously, it’s Game of Thrones). It contains strong depictions of sexual content and blood. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings in this chapter: Contains spoilers for episode ten, The Black Queen.

Chapter Nineteen: …And the Dragons Danced

Gif doesn’t belong to me 💚

You smiled lightly as you watched Revnass eat, having burnt a goat for her meal. Her silver scales reflected on the ground, being named the Silver Queen for her color. You remembered how she latched on to you when she was born, having been the only egg in yours and Aemond’s shared cradle. You never gave up on your twin brother and it may have taken his left eye, but he gained a dragon in the end.

“The masters tell me Revnass laid a clutch,” You told Aemond softly noticing him come over. The two of you had mended things from the family dinner and were enjoying the calm before the storm.

“She has always acted like her rider in such ways.” Aemond hummed lightly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Including the attitude.”

You rolled your eyes but you had a small smirk upon your lips. Revnass was never one to listen to the dragon masters the older the two of you got. To say they were frustrated with her on many occasions was an understatement.

“Vhaenys would soon enough have a dragon of her own then our unborn babe if Revnass is to lay another clutch,” You said softly placing a hand on your stomach. Your dress was tight around your stomach, yet it was still unnoticeable unless one was to stare a little too long.

“Our children will be dragon riders just like their mother and father.” Aemond walked closer to you, placing his hand lightly over yours.

You hummed lightly before smiling up at your husband. You had always envisioned such a life with him, ever since you were young children. You leaned up and connected your lips with his gently, giggling as he pulled you closer to him.

It was a bittersweet moment shared between the twin green dragons, one that seemed rare almost. You knew it was going to stay such a way with the war brewing between the greens and the blacks, and you wanted to enjoy it while the storm was still calm.

“We should head back to the keep,” You said softly after a moment. “We can bring Vhaenys back to look at her egg if she wishes.”

As you climbed out of the carriage, you were greeted by your grandsire waiting for the two of you. “Your Grace would like to speak with you immediately.”

You looked up at Aemond who nodded and you followed, sighing at the appearance of Aegon in the small council room with the crown of the conqueror resting upon his head. There was a fire behind his violet eyes, a fire fueled by anger.

“There are houses that have not declared their loyalty,” Aegon spoke up after a moment. “Mother wishes me to task the two of you to go to Storms End, Lord Borros being the lord we need the most.”

“And how are we to have the Lord declare his loyalty to you?” You questioned with a cocked brow.

Aegon stared at you, the fire in his eyes only seeming to grow. “You can spread your legs, my dear sister. Let him stuff your cunt. I suppose you are not a stranger to such activities behind your husband’s back,” He said bluntly.

Aemond narrowed his eye at your drunkard brother, but he stayed quiet. He was king now and he could deem such actions as treason if he so wishes.

Alicent sighed as she stood behind her eldest son’s chair. “I want the two of you to propose a marriage pact to Lord Borros. For your youngest brother to have the hand of any of his daughters.”

“Would Daeron even consent to such a pact?”

“He would knowing it will help out his King,” Aegon snapped.

“When did you want us to leave for Storms End?” Aemond spoke up for the first time.

“The sooner, the better. We must get to Lord Baratheon before our whore of a half sister does.”

You glanced at your husband and sighed before nodding your head. “Yes, Your Grace,” You said softly before being excused from the small council room.

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“I do not want you to come.”

You turned to Aemond while you finished putting on your dragon riding clothes along with your blue sapphire colored cloak. You furrowed your brows a bit.

“I am going to come with you.”

“I do not want you to fly in your condition,” Aemond stated firmly while grabbing onto your arm.

You narrowed your eyes while yanking your arm away. “I am barely swollen, husband. I can fly to Storms End with you.” You picked up your brooch, a silver Targaryen sigil and clasped your cloak together at your shoulders. “Besides, I do not want any of the Baratheon girls to believe you are available for marriage.”

Aemond couldn’t help but chuckle and smirk a bit. “You are quite fiery today, are you not?” He asked with a raised brow. “I am afraid Vhaenys will catch on.”

You furrowed your brows and sighed softly, turning your head away. “We are the same, husband. You and I…I do not understand why you find it amusing.”

Aemond laughed once more before slowly stepping back. “I just know I have made the right choice in my wife.”

You felt the smile creeping on your lips as you turned to grab your belt with your sheathed sword. You had clear instructions that you were to be messengers and not warriors, yet your husband had always taught you to defend yourself to be safe. It was to be a quick journey to Storms End and there should be no reason for bloodshed, although the Stranger seemed to have other plans on that tragic day.

The flight to Storms End had been hard on Revnass, the younger dragon not used to flying in such a rough condition. You lightly stroked her scales once you got off, leaning your head against hers.

“Lykiri, Revnass,” You whispered to her. “Lykiri,” You repeated and smiled as she nuzzled against you before you turned once your husband came over.

You took a deep breath holding onto his arm before you were led towards the castle. Lord Borros’ father had sworn loyalty towards Rhaenyra when she was declared as heir, yet you could only hope for the current lord to be swayed to Aegon’s side.

Your nerves seemed to wash away the more you discussed matters with Lord Borros. He was ecstatic at the idea of one of his daughters marrying a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

You had your hands clasped in front of you, a smile on show as you listened to the Lord of Storms End and your husband discuss marriage matters. You just did not enjoy the idea of Daeron not being present to choose his own wife although this pact was strictly for political matters.

You turned your head when the doors opened and furrowed your brows at the sight of your nephew being escorted in with guards flanking him.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” A guard announced.

You lightly grabbed onto Aemond’s arm as he came over to your side. “Remember we are here as envoys,” You whispered in his ear.

Aemond glanced behind you, the smirk of mischief clear on his face. He hummed in response, rubbing your arm lightly listening as Borros grew angry with your half sister’s request.

“Go home, pup and tell your mother that the Lord of Storms End is not some dog she can whistle up at need to set against her foes,” Borros said angrily.

“I will give your answer to the Queen, my lord,” Lucerys stated and began to turn away.

Aemond hummed lightly. “Wait…my Lord Strong,” He began, Luke being quick to turn back around. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

“Aemond,” You scolded quietly but he only ignored you.

“I will not fight you,” Luke stated boldly. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge. No.” Aemond reached up to remove his eyepatch, revealing the blue sapphire he put in place of his lost eye. “I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine.”

You frowned at how scared Luke appeared. You made a quiet promise to protect your nephew from Aemond as your husband pulled out his dagger.

“One will serve,” He stated throwing his dagger towards Lucerys. “I would not blind you.”

“Aemond,” You said louder with narrowed eyes as he turned towards you. “You need to quit acting like a child. We delivered the message, there is no need to get revenge for what happened so long ago,” You scolded.

Aemond growled at your words, although you could see the hurt in his eye. He turned back to Lucerys when he refused, his hurt turning to anger.

“Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!” Aemond rushed to pick up his dagger, Lucerys backing away in fear.

Once Lord Borros deescalated the situation, you were quick to follow Luke out. You grabbed onto his arm lightly as he made his way to his dragon.

“Lucerys,” You said softly grabbing onto his arm. “Do not be afraid of Aemond.” You reached up lightly placing a hand on his cheek before pulling him into a hug. “I will make sure you get home safe to your mother,” You whispered in his ear.

You released the hug and slowly made your way to Revnass, going through the storm clouds. You glanced behind you noticing Luke was following you, but frowned at how eerily quiet it was. Vhagar was not on the ground by the time you left Storms End which meant Aemond was somewhere in the storm as well.

You gasped as Vhagar came from underneath, Luke barely dodging her jaws. You let out a growl as you heard Aemond’s laugh, trying to get between your husband and your nephew. You blinked away the rain, Revnass staying close behind Arrax as you flew through a gap that was too small for Vhagar to get through.

“Taoba!” You heard Aemond shout and furrowed your brows.

After Arrax attacked Vhagar, you flew up beyond the storm clouds with Luke. You blew out a heavy breath looking down below with a frown tugging at your lips.

“Y/N,” Lucerys spoke up, the fear still clear on his face as you looked at him. “I do not want to fight anymore.”

You frowned, opening your mouth to tell him it would be all right although nothing came out as Vhagar came from the side. She took Luke in her jaws, Arrax’s body falling below. You stared over the side feeling the tears stinging your violet eyes, the only noise being heard is Aemond’s laugh clearly proud of what he had done.

You knew deep down that with the death of Lucerys Velaryon, a young boy only of three-and-ten, it would turn the tides and the war of fire and blood was to commence.

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[dedicatednotobsessed]

I loved that they got married, but I can’t help but be scared of the consequences of their actions. Aegon won’t be happy about this, Alicent won’t be either. Helaena will be and that’s a plus lol

The only one’s happiness that matters is our green princess, Helaena’s happiness 😌💚

[dedicatednotobsessed]

are u going to update the goldcloaks masterlist soon, i really love itt, hands down the best series I've seen so far !💗🫶

Hi! Thank you for the love and support, I really appreciate it 🥰

For the Gold Cloaks masterlist, most of them are requested one shots that are tied together so it is going to be slow updates unfortunately. I could be adding my own storylines eventually though. Just keep an eye out 🤭🖤