#library alice's author for her.................................

[deathspremonition]

after a month i have xkit here. yippie

[makingqueerhistory]

Queer Books Challenged in Florida Schools and Libraries

There are some affiliate links below in case you want to support MQH.

Gender Queer: A Memoir, Maia Kobabe: Now, Gender Queer is here. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears.

The Color Purple, Alice Walker: Separated as girls, sisters Celie and Nettie sustain their loyalty to and hope in each other across time, distance and silence. Through a series of letters spanning nearly thirty years, first from Celie to God, then the sisters to each other despite the unknown, the novel draws readers into its rich and memorable portrayals of Celie, Nettie, Shug Avery and Sofia and their experience. The Color Purple broke the silence around domestic and sexual abuse, narrating the lives of women through their pain and struggle, companionship and growth, resilience and bravery.

Julián Is a Mermaid, Jessica Love: While riding the subway home from the pool with his abuela one day, Julián notices three women spectacularly dressed up. Their hair billows in brilliant hues, their dresses end in fishtails, and their joy fills the train car. When Julián gets home, daydreaming of the magic he's seen, all he can think about is dressing up just like the ladies in his own fabulous mermaid costume: a butter-yellow curtain for his tail, the fronds of a potted fern for his headdress. But what will Abuela think about the mess he makes -- and even more importantly, what will she think about how Julián sees himself? Mesmerizing and full of heart, Jessica Love's author-illustrator debut is a jubilant picture of self-love and a radiant celebration of individuality.

Drama: A Graphic Novel, Raina Telgemeier: Callie loves theater. And while she would totally try out for her middle school's production of Moon over Mississippi, she can't really sing. Instead she's the set designer for the drama department's stage crew, and this year she's determined to create a set worthy of Broadway on a middle-school budget. But how can she, when she doesn't know much about carpentry, ticket sales are down, and the crew members are having trouble working together? Not to mention the onstage AND offstage drama that occurs once the actors are chosen. And when two cute brothers enter the picture, things get even crazier!

Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas: Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can't get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his true gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school's resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

I Am Billie Jean King, Brad Meltzer: This friendly, fun biography series focuses on the traits that made our heroes great--the traits that kids can aspire to in order to live heroically themselves. Each book tells the story of one of America's icons in a lively, conversational way that works well for the youngest nonfiction readers and that always includes the hero's childhood influences. At the back are an excellent timeline and photos. This volume features Billie Jean King, the world champion tennis player who fought successfully for women's rights. From a young age, Billie Jean King loved sports--especially tennis! But as she got older, she realized that plenty of people, even respected male athletes, didn't take women athletes seriously. She set to prove them wrong and show girls everywhere that sports are for everyone, regardless of gender.

This One Summer, Mariko Tamaki: Every summer, Rose goes with her mom and dad to a lake house in Awago Beach. It's their getaway, their refuge. Rosie's friend Windy is always there, too, like the little sister she never had. But this summer is different. Rose's mom and dad won't stop fighting, and when Rose and Windy seek a distraction from the drama, they find themselves with a whole new set of problems. One of the local teens - just a couple of years older than Rose and Windy - is caught up in something bad... Something life threatening. It's a summer of secrets, and sorrow, and growing up, and it's a good thing Rose and Windy have each other.

Marriage of a Thousand Lies, Sj Sindu: Lucky and her husband, Krishna, are gay. They present an illusion of marital bliss to their conservative Sri Lankan-American families, while each dates on the side. It's not ideal, but for Lucky, it seems to be working. She goes out dancing, she drinks a bit, she makes ends meet by doing digital art on commission. But when Lucky's grandmother has a nasty fall, Lucky returns to her childhood home and unexpectedly reconnects with her former best friend and first lover, Nisha, who is preparing for her own arranged wedding with a man she's never met.

And Tango Makes Three, Peter Parnell: At the penguin house at the Central Park Zoo, two penguins named Roy and Silo were a little bit different from the others. But their desire for a family was the same. And with the help of a kindly zookeeper, Roy and Silo got the chance to welcome a baby penguin of their very own.

More Happy Than Not, Adam Silvera: In the months following his father's suicide, sixteen-year-old Aaron Soto can't seem to find happiness again, despite the support of his girlfriend, Genevieve, and his overworked mom. Grief and the smile-shaped scar on his wrist won't let him forget the pain. But when Aaron meets Thomas, a new kid in the neighborhood, something starts to shift inside him. Aaron can't deny his unexpected feelings for Thomas despite the tensions their friendship has created with Genevieve and his tight-knit crew. Since Aaron can't stay away from Thomas or turn off his newfound happiness, he considers taking drastic actions. The Leteo Institute's revolutionary memory-altering procedure will straighten him out, even if it means forgetting who he truly is.

Melissa, Alex Gino: When people look at Melissa, they think they see a boy named George. But she knows she's not a boy. She knows she's a girl.

Melissa thinks she'll have to keep this a secret forever. Then her teacher announces that their class play is going to be Charlotte's Web. Melissa really, really, REALLY wants to play Charlotte. But the teacher says she can't even try out for the part... because she's a boy.

With the help of her best friend, Kelly, Melissa comes up with a plan. Not just so she can be Charlotte -- but so everyone can know who she is, once and for all.

A Quick & Easy Guide to Queer & Trans Identities, Mady G, Jules Zuckerberg: In this quick and easy guide to queer and trans identities, cartoonists Mady G and Jules Zuckerberg guide you through the basics of the LGBT+ world! Covering essential topics like sexuality, gender identity, coming out, and navigating relationships, this guide explains the spectrum of human experience through informative comics, interviews, worksheets, and imaginative examples. A great starting point for anyone curious about queer and trans life, and helpful for those already on their own journeys!

This Book Is Gay, Juno Dawson: This candid, funny, and uncensored exploration of sexuality and what it's like to grow up LGBTQ also includes real stories from people across the gender and sexual spectrums, not to mention hilarious illustrations.

Little & Lion, Brandy Colbert: When Suzette comes home to Los Angeles from her boarding school in New England, she's isn't sure if she'll ever want to go back. L.A. is where her friends and family are (as well as her crush, Emil). And her stepbrother, Lionel, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, needs her emotional support. But as she settles into her old life, Suzette finds herself falling for someone new...the same girl her brother is in love with. When Lionel's disorder spirals out of control, Suzette is forced to confront her past mistakes and find a way to help her brother before he hurts himself--or worse.

King and the Dragonflies, Kacen Callender: Twelve-year-old Kingston James is sure his brother Khalid has turned into a dragonfly. When Khalid unexpectedly passed away, he shed what was his first skin for another to live down by the bayou in their small Louisiana town. Khalid still visits in dreams, and King must keep these secrets to himself as he watches grief transform his family.

It would be easier if King could talk with his best friend, Sandy Sanders. But just days before he died, Khalid told King to end their friendship, after overhearing a secret about Sandy-that he thinks he might be gay. "You don't want anyone to think you're gay too, do you?"

Sorted: Growing Up, Coming Out, and Finding My Place: A Transgender Memoir, Jackson Bird: An unflinching and endearing memoir from LGBTQ+ advocate Jackson Bird about how he finally sorted things out and came out as a transgender man.When Jackson Bird was twenty-five, he came out as transgender to his friends, family, and anyone in the world with an internet connection. Assigned female at birth and raised as a girl, he often wondered if he should have been born a boy. Jackson didn't share this thought with anyone because he didn't think he could share it with anyone.

The Black Flamingo, Dean Atta: Michael is a mixed-race gay teen growing up in London. All his life, he's navigated what it means to be Greek-Cypriot and Jamaican--but never quite feeling Greek or Black enough.

As he gets older, Michael's coming out is only the start of learning who he is and where he fits in. When he discovers the Drag Society, he finally finds where he belongs--and the Black Flamingo is born

Explore the full list here.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

How about the nerdy girls of genshin (Lisa, Sucrose, Ayaka, Kokomi) with an S/O who's an even bigger nerd than she is?

(Genshin Impact) Lisa, Sucrose, Ayaka, and Kokomi's S/O being a NERD

Nerd? YOU WILL REFRAIN FROM SUCH UNSCIENTIFIC TERMINOLOGY IN MY PRESENCE.

Lisa respected that S/O could actually hold an intelligent conversation that didn't devolve into something insane, like with Alice.

They could actually speak about their inventions, while mostly theoretical, could be made with current technology, and understandable enough for her.

Such as a machine that could clean the room by itself! Something that Lisa desperately wanted.

And seeing how excited they were to showcase a new prototype to her, Lisa can't help but admire their enthusiasm.

(Lisa) "S/O, what's this one called?"

(S/O) "Well, its actual name is the RX-03 Cleaner, but I just nicknamed it the Wiper."

(Lisa) "...But it doesn't wipe anything down, it just sweeps."

(S/O) sigh "Listen, names aren't exactly the most important thing for a machine."

Lisa teases S/O to make a machine that could clean and organize the books in the library for her, but S/O refuses to make Lisa somehow even lazier than before.

Sucrose was glad to have someone who could understand what she was talking about almost completely.

It put her at ease to just speak about experiments and concoctions without being given a strange look and actually getting a proper response.

Especially since it was with someone she loved, without worry of boring her S/O to death with the minute details of her experiment.

(Sucrose) "Hm...Do you feel any adverse side effects?"

(S/O) "Nothing seems to be different in response. I'll write it down for you in the log."

(Sucrose) "Hm...Perhaps we need to increase the strength of the mixture?"

Her usual shyness and hesitance is almost gone. As helpful and patient as Albedo was, it was nice to have someone on the same level of her, at the very least.

Ayaka appreciated how different S/O was compared to most people she had met in Inazuma.

They weren't afraid to show their interests or their intelligence.

Granted, Ayaka had no idea what her S/O was going on about sometimes until they had to dumb their explanations down.

But she still wanted to learn, because it was something S/O cared about, and at the very least, she'll make an effort to be engaged!

(Ayaka) "And these fossils are...What did you call them again?"

(S/O) "Part of the megafauna that used to live in Tevyat!...At least I think they are. They predate the Archon-War, and even this skull is the size of a house! But to answer your question, they were Alces."

Ayaka leaned in with a glint in her eye, looking at the skull.

(Ayaka) "I see. Do we know anything else about these creatures?"

She didn't always follow S/O, but Ayaka still loved to hear S/O speak, hearing how energetic they were in their findings.

Archons knows how liberating it is to finally speak about things that you love, and she wouldn't deny the person she loved that ability.

Truthfully, Kokomi could appreciate that S/O was as much of a bookworm as she was.

Perhaps even moreso, considering how often their eyes were locked onto the pages, brows furrowed in that cute way that Kokomi loved as they read.

Whether it be fiction, educational experiments, or even random pieces of literature, they read it with the upmost attention.

Which meant plenty of fun conversations with S/O about the stories they read.

(S/O) "It doesn't make any sense! Why in the world would the author write the character that way when it literally goes against everything that was established earlier?!"

(Kokomi) "Hah, it won't be the last time we see something like that, dear."

It did feel nice to hold an intelligent conversation instead of it usually veering off into something weird, like with Miko's book recommendations.

Though calling them "stories" was a bit kind, sometimes.

[fioiswriting]

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Summary : when you're married to your childhood sweetheart who becomes your enemy and you get lost in the terrible maze of politics.

[previous chapter] [masterlist]

Rating : None for now, will be explicit 18+ later MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader (There will be some Cregan Stark x Reader later)

TW :  none for now except not proofread. TW will be added as the story progresses.

Words count : 4408

AN : Hi everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. So, MONTHS later, I've finally decided to post chapter 2. Sorry for the wait.

[About this story This fanfiction is inspired by an RP I started with my girlfriend (@irmawrites, go check her work) in early 2023, which is still ongoing. My girlfriend writes for her OC (who is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent) as well as for Aemond and Cregan, while I write for my OC (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) as well as for Aegon and Cole mostly. This fanfiction doesn't cover exactly the same events, I've changed some things, added some others and omitted some. But it follows the main storyline. The character of Irma is a nod to my girlfriend and is based on another of her OCs (Alicent's niece). I'm keen to turn this story into fanfiction and I hope you'll like it! ❤️ I know there's a ton of fanfiction out there based on the Aemond x Rhaenyra's daughter trope. If you don't like it, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you've read too much of it, I'd suggest you read another fanfiction written by one of the many talented authors on this platform ❤️ The story will unfold in several arcs, with the first arc building up the relationship between the reader and Aemond. The tone is therefore lighter. The following arcs (which I can't wait to get to!!) will gradually introduce a lot more angst (my favourite thing to write). The tone will be radically different. Overall, the fanfiction will sometimes be based on elements of the book, and sometimes on the show, with my own interpretations. Please bear in mind that my dialogue will sound very "modern" because I struggle to write medieval dialogue in English, as it's not my mother tongue.]

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

After all that talk, ENJOY <3

Chapter 2 : Familiarity

There was a sense of renewed familiarity. 

You had regained your childhood bedroom and with it your landmarks. Of course, you still missed Dragonstone. And that could seem strange to some - Dragonstone was just a damp cave, a pile of stones perched on a rock. You were in King's Landing, now. You lived in opulence, in a royal comfort unmatched by the perch above the sea where you had spent most of your youth. 

But Dragonstone had a charm you couldn't find in King's Landing. Perhaps it was the stillness of the library where you spent all your time, lost among the scrolls of parchment and the thick tomes, or perhaps it was the sound of the crashing waves that rocked you on stormy nights, you weren't sure.

But somehow a sense of familiarity had returned. Your old room hadn't changed much, despite Alicent's questionable alterations to the decoration of the Red Keep. You had found an old toy in the shape of a dragon, and even some old paper on which you had practised your precise handwriting under the strict gaze of a stern Septa when you were a child. It was a memory frozen in time, a kind of testimony to the past. A room that reflected the little girl you were when you left King's Landing.

But perhaps you could change it to your liking, to reflect the young woman you had become. Perhaps it was a way of keeping you occupied before you left again. After all, your mother had promised that your stay would only be temporary. Just time to sort out some inheritance issues. Time to try and heal your family's wounds. Time to secure your family's future. As if the hope of you all rested on your shoulders; the only guarantee that your family wouldn't descend into a bloody escalation, or something like that. 

And yet, even though you'd only been here a short time, you'd already gotten into trouble, and it was Aemond himself who had to rescue you. You hated the idea.

You hated the fact that he'd come to your aid.

You hated the fact that you owed him, that you were indebted to him.

Fortunately, your little escapade hadn't been reported - you didn't want to disappoint your mother, or see the reproachful look on her face, even though you were aware that she might not be in the best position to make a comment. You were close to your mother. You were her eldest. You were her only daughter. She cherished and loved you, and you knew you could share everything with her. But you cherished your secret freedom, and you feared that her concern for her only daughter would give her the bad idea of assigning you closer supervision.

You didn't need a chaperone. You valued what little freedom your condition as a daughter afforded you.

As you slipped under the sheets, your thoughts kept returning to Aemond. The way he'd protected you, the way he'd carried you on his shoulder - it was humiliating, you weren't an object. And the way you had planted a kiss on his cheek. An impulsive act. A foolish act. You had to admit that you weren't averse to doing it again.

It just didn't make sense. Why had he come looking for you when he'd never answered your letters? He'd probably felt superior, after calling you and your brothers bastards, he'd probably decided you weren't good enough to be his friend anymore.  All this time, all these years, you'd been waiting for a word from him - a mere reply to the letters you'd sent. It never came. You concluded that your friendship had ended, in silence, after all you had done for him; after reassuring him, after holding his hand while the maester tried to repair the broken flesh on his face as best he could.

Had he really been your friend for even one day, or had it all been a facade, a role he'd played? Had he ever been sincere?

You were furious.

Rhaenyra had stroked your hair through every disappointment that gripped your heart like the loving mother she was. Daemon - Daemon had soothed you in his own way, telling you again and again that Aemond wasn't a good man, and that you would save your heart by forgetting him.

But now he had come looking for you. Something had changed. He had taken a step in your direction. You were lost. You were angry, but it was not just anger. There was something else underneath that pile of confusion and resentment. His approach unsettled you. Every step he took towards you, every word he said, sent a whirlwind of conflicting emotions through you. A burning curiosity. An irresistible attraction. 

You hated yourself for thinking it, but maybe your betrothal wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe you could retrieve the complicity of your childhood.

Maybe it had never really disappeared.

In the early hours of the morning, the smell of warm bread tickled your nose even before you felt the warmth of the sun's rays through your chamber window. You rolled onto your side to steal a few more minutes of comfort, stifling a grunt into your pillow. You waited fatefully for the moment when Celia or Jeyne would come and wake you.

"Wake up you lazy groundhog, you've got things to tell me!" 

But the high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that echoed around your room wasn't Celia's, and it certainly wasn't Jeyne's. You sat up immediately, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you, your fingers rubbing your tired eyes to make sure you weren't dreaming. 

Irma Hightower was standing in your room, in a gown more extravagant than ever. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms.

"It was usually me who overslept in the morning and you who had to wake me up," Irma exclaimed, placing the tray she carried awkwardly under her arm on the table with a loud clatter, causing the tea to overflow from the cup and drip onto the wooden table. "But I reckon that sneaking out seems tiring." She punctuated his remark with a knowing wink before dusting off her dress as if she'd just worked in the straw or done the most strenuous physical labour in the world.

Still too sleepy to make sense of your friend's words, you frowned as you looked around for your two handmaidens, the ones who woke you up every morning, helped you get dressed and brought you your meal. "Where are -"

"I dismissed them for the rest of the morning," Irma replied without letting you finish the sentence. That explained the tray and the near disaster. "But here's your breakfast. Gods, did you know a tray was thatheavy? " She paused briefly, barely giving you time to wake up properly.

Irma Hightower was a tornado. She swept away everything in her path - she carried away hearts and minds with equal ease, leaving a whirlwind of chaos behind her. Wherever she went, she stirred the air with unbridled energy, forcing others to adapt to her frenetic pace or be wiped out by her determination. But it would be a lie to say you weren't happy to see her. You sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling before tilting your head to one side. A smile curved the corner of your lips as you watched your friend. You wondered what Irma was doing in your room in the early hours of the morning, especially when, last you heard, she was supposed to be in Oldtown furthering her education. 

To tell the truth, you might have had an idea why she was here. You just didn't want to subject yourself to your friend's interrogation - some secrets should remain your secrets.

And what you'd done yesterday was one of them.

"'So?" she asked with a mixture of overflowing curiosity and impetuosity, her brown curls twirling around her face.

"So what?" you sighed as you went behind your dressing screen to remove your nightgown. You slipped into a flowing ocean-blue dress adorned with pearls and embroidery - one of your favourite gowns, a creation that reminded you of your favourite element: the sea. 

Unlike your brothers, you weren't made of fire and blood. You were made of sea and storm, and you knew deep down that this was perhaps hypocritical - your own appearance reminded you of it every day. But it was what your heart had always told you, and you'd come to believe it, too. The feeling of your feet in the water and the breeze on your face, its salty taste against your lips, was the one that brought you the most comfort. 

"So what happened yesterday ?” Irma insisted. Her voice grew impatient. "I saw you.”

But you ignored her, busy wriggling to reach the lacing at the back of your dress. In vain. You weren't flexible enough. "Since you've decided to play the handmaid today, help me get dressed," you replied, appearing on one side of the screen, your hands gripping the fabric tightly, your back to her. Irma rose with a long sigh - it was just for show, you knew - and came over to you. You smiled mischievously. You had to admit that you enjoyed seeing her in this role, so opposite to who she really was. You wondered what her time in Oldtown had been like; whether she'd been treated like the spoilt brat she truly was, or whether, on the contrary, she'd had to learn patience, faith and discipline - all qualities that didn't characterise her. 

"I could actually keep you as my lady in waiting, you know. You'd be good for that. Forced to follow me everywhere, I'd love that." 

You didn't need to see her to know that she rolled her eyes. " I am the Queen's niece. I was made for more than that."

When her fingers became tangled in the lacing of your dress, she spoke again, her voice caressing the back of your ear as she tugged at the lacing with a little more force: "You haven't answered my question."

How could you forget that Irma was so perceptive? And above all, how could you forget that when Irma wanted something, it was impossible for her not to get it? You weren't going to get away. She would insist, until you fell for her angelic pout and her round eyes that tried to win you over.

It reminded you of your shared youth - the times you spent together, swapping secrets and gossip, talking about your joys and sorrows. You had been inseparable before you were forced to return to Dragonstone, and she to Oldtown. 

"Nothing happened. At least nothing like you may think," you admitted, turning to smooth the front of your dress. You whirled around, the fabric rising gently around you like a bluish wave. "How do I look?"

"I wouldn't describe being carried around like a sack of flour on your dark uncle's shoulder as nothing. Especially in your family." 

Irma inspected your outfit, her eyes expertly examining you from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, looking for the slightest detail that would have spoiled her work. She brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face.

"Did he kiss you?" Her eyebrows arched, her mouth forming a playful pout of false surprise. She was clearly determined to decipher your every secret, to expose them. You hesitated for a moment, to cast doubt, to let her imagine more - but you were afraid of the repercussions this might have on you. You weren't sure that Irma knew how to hold her tongue. And you didn't want to risk exposing yourself to Aemond's irritation over false rumours. Not when you'd planned to play with him a bit; to prove to him that you had the upper hand, that you could have him wrapped around your little finger and drive him mad. You were still suspicious of him. You hadn't really figured him out yet. You just knew he'd changed since the last time you'd seen him, but you weren't sure how much.

"No, he didn't kiss me," you repeated, putting the same emphasis on the word as your friend. You walked over to the table to sip your still steaming cup of tea. You could feel Irma's round eyes on your back - she was waiting for you to say more. She probably had a dozen unanswered questions: why had Aemond brought you back like this? Where had you been? Who had you been with? What had you done? But you didn't answer right away, biting into the crusty bread.

"He just... came to fetch me," you finally admitted between two bites, your mouth half full - it was a far cry from the princess manners in which you'd been raised. Sitting on your bed, Irma stared at you with her brown eyes - the same as her aunt's. "I was with Aegon. In King's Landing. And I got lost."

That was enough. Irma didn't need to know everything; after all, it wasn't a lie if you only omitted certain details that you deemed relatively unimportant.

Or that Irma didn't need to know.

But the revelation provoked a silence. Your friend didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed, revealing a fine line between her eyebrows, and her lips pursed into a bitter pout. She looked troubled, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I didn't know you were close to Aegon."

If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have detected the note of reproach in her voice. Was it jealousy? Was your friend jealous of the time you spent with Aegon?

You weren't sure you understood. He was married - and more importantly, as you remembered, Irma hated him for his debauchery and the alcohol he drank to excess. 

But this was no time to argue, and you preferred to play it safe. There would be plenty of time for your investigation later, when Irma's suspicions would be at rest. "He's my uncle and... he suggested he show me the streets of King's Landing because I was feeling bored." 

And the idea seemed liberating at the time. A moment of stolen freedom, away from the court, away from your duties. Where you were no longer the model princess, the paragon of virtue, but just another girl, lost in anonymity. You weren't sure she understood - she'd always loved the court, the gowns and the politics. You too, of course. It would be a lie to say you weren't made for it; for the life your status as a princess could offer you. You cherished the comforts and loved the responsibilities that came with your role. But sometimes those same responsibilities – and duty above all - stifled you. You needed solitude. To be somewhere else.

"It's dangerous. You could have been harmed!" Irma said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of concern and annoyance. "You can't just follow a man like Aegon into the city," she sighed.

Some truth was hidden in her words, and you were aware of your lack of rationality, of the stupidity of your foolishness. The danger you had put yourself in, too, for if Aemond hadn't intervened... You didn't want to think about it. The dirty hands and lecherous looks those men gave you still made you shudder. All those risks for an illusory feeling of freedom, wasn't it a high price to pay?

Aemond had come for you. The humiliation still burned on your cheeks. 

"Lost in your thoughts?" Irma asked impatiently, offering you her arm as if she'd waited too long for you to come out of your reverie, "thinking about your Prince Charming again?"

You gave her a little tap on the arm, your eyes raised to the sky at the broad smile that stretched her lips, but you accepted her invitation anyway. "Fine, let's go. I heard that they are training this morning. And I know you're not indifferent to Dornish charm." You winked at her. And arm in arm, you and Irma walked through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the courtyard.

Aemond's movements were precise and swift. Faced with Ser Criston's Morningstar, he moved skilfully, as nimble as a cat. You leaned against the parapet of the ramparts; your eyes riveted on the two silhouettes that seemed to be dancing in the courtyard amidst the small crowd that had gathered around them. Irma didn't miss a moment of the spectacle, and you wondered if there was a man she didn't find charming.  Aemond, probably.  You knew she didn't bear any affection for him - he was too serious, too stern. Too scary, too.

"Did you get tired of Oldtown, is that why you're here?" you asked teasingly, glancing briefly at Irma.

She leaned towards you as if to share a secret, not taking her eyes off the show the two men were offering. "They didn't want me anymore," she confided. "I used to drive the maesters and the septas mad. It was amusing."

You should have known better. Irma was too stubborn and brash to be around men and women who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. She was intelligent, there was no denying that, but she lacked the patience and diligence that the study of texts demanded. Though she had spent her childhood in King's Landing, perfecting her courtly education at her aunt's side, her rebellious attitude had sent her straight back to Oldtown. And then, she had threatened the Maesters and the Septas - she belonged at Court and she was convinced of it.

"And how is Daeron?" 

"As courteous and charming as ever," she replied. 

Aemond disarmed Cole and everyone applauded; including Jace and Luke, who you could recognise in the crowd. Your betrothed's eyes shifted from the spot he was staring at in the crowd - your brothers? - and looked up at you for a moment. You wondered if Aemond had seen you, if he had felt your gaze on him, and if that was why he had become fiercer in his attacks. A strange sensation arose in your belly, as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, making your heart beat faster.  You forced yourself to suppress your emotions, which you blamed on all the time you'd spent away from Dragonstone. You refused to admit that it was Aemond's gaze that you sought more than any other, especially after the events of the previous day. Especially when you could still feel his skin against yours, his firm hands around your body, his face just a few inches from yours.

You wondered what had possessed you to kiss him on the cheek. 

You wanted to play with him, that was certain. But you refused to subject your heart to the whims of love. Not after the heartache you'd felt when you found out he'd forgotten you so easily.

It was nothing serious.

You met Aemond's gaze. The intensity of his lilac eye had this very capacity to send shivers down your spine.  He didn't even crack a smile, and looked away as if nothing had happened.

"I'll see you later," Irma said, squeezing your arm, before turning on her heels to - presumably - find some male company. Once you were alone, you walked down the steps that led from the ramparts to the courtyard. Your steps instinctively brought you to where Aemond was standing, ready to sheathe his sword.

If he seemed surprised to see you, he didn't show it. His icy eye rested on you, unreadable as ever.

"Lady Strong."

"We should talk," you began, ignoring the unpleasant way he had just addressed you. Lady Strong. The nickname left a sting of humiliation, and under normal circumstances you would have reacted. You would have defended yourself, you would have thought of something witty to retort - but today you had decided to take a step towards peace. You had decided to show that you hadn't come here with any animosity, even though everything inside you was screaming to make him swallow his insolence.

"There is nothing to talk about," he replied mechanically. Cold. Distant. Disinterested. Syllables sharp and icy. 

But yes, there were a thousand things to talk about; the betrothal that would lead to your certain future marriage, the events of yesterday, the letters he had never answered, his hostile and cold attitude towards you. There were all these things and more, but neither of you seemed to know how or where to begin.

"About yesterday -"

"I haven't spoken a word to anyone. Your little secret is safe with me. You can rest assured, niece."

That's not what you meant. It wasn't that you wanted to talk about - it was everything around it; it was the reasons, it was how he had found out, it was the consequences, it was the kiss on his cheek, it was the thick tension between you that you were sure he had felt too. It was all these things.

You took a step towards him. Suddenly you felt yourself bubbling. And as if you'd grown wings, you closed the distance between you without looking away.

"Why?" you asked, your tone more urgent. You wanted to push him over the edge. You wanted him to admit what you knew for a fact that he would never be able to. "You could expose me. Tell everyone about my little escapades. Make me lose all credibility. End our betrothal." You paused, leaning your body towards him, your warmth mingling with his.

You felt him hold his breath. He tensed, straightening his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side to watch you.

"Why exactly would I do that, Lady Strong?"

Because you hate me, you were tempted to reply. Because you hate me, just as you hate my brothers. Because you cut me off all those years ago, without a word. And despite all the affinities that could bring you together, despite the fond memories of your shared childhood and your closeness, despite the love you harboured for him, you were loyal to your siblings, like he was to his. Whatever you did, you would always be associated with them. Your family. So wasn't it normal for him to see you as an extension of the hatred he felt for them?

At your silence, he continued, this time in High Valyrian: "I am not the one who despises the other. You know that."

Hate was nothing more than a form of passion.

But you weren't sure it was hate you felt for Aemond - no, the hate would come later, stronger, hotter than ever.  For now, you felt disappointment and a form of betrayal after the friendship that had bound you together for more than a decade. 

"I am not the one who is determined to make you my enemy." 

Enemy, like water to fire. Trying to destroy each other by nature.

"And yet, you treat me like one," you replied. Sharpness staining your voice. 

He let out a hm. He was still staring at you; the sensation was almost disturbing. He took a step in your direction, violating your breathing space. You had to lift your head to maintain eye contact. Then he leaned towards you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly in a smirk.

"I wouldn't have come to rescue you if you were my enemy."

The words barely out of his mouth, he straightened and took a step back, giving you the courtesy to walk away as your cheeks turned red. You didn't need him to remind you of what had happened yesterday. The memory was still frozen in your mind, clear and intact. The ghost of his touch like a burn. You wondered if he felt the same; if he thought about your lips on his cheek, if they had left an invisible, indelible mark on his skin, like his fingers on yours.

You had to change the subject. Quickly. Before you got caught at your own game. 

Your hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword on the table beside the training area. You lifted it. It felt heavy in your hand, still warm from Aemond's grip.

It was strange, this power in your hand. A weapon that could take a life. Too big and unsuitable for your delicate fingers, but fascinating. 

"Teach me."

"No," he replied immediately, following your every move with his icy gaze, as if he feared you might hurt yourself. You rested the heavy sword on the wooden table before turning. You approached him again.

"Daemon taught me how to use a dagger. At least he taught me where to aim to hurt." You flatten your hand against his chest, just below his ribcage. His body stiffens beneath your palm. "He said it was to protect me from dangerous men." Your gaze travelled from your hand to his eyes.

Aemond chuckled. He didn't try to push you away. On the contrary, he kept your hand pressed against him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he guided your hand to his jugular, where you could feel his heart throbbing against your fingertips.

"First lesson: that is where you aim to kill." Caught off guard, you tried to withdraw your hand, but Aemond held it in place, your fingertips on his skin, your eyes both searching and challenging each other. The air was charged. Tense. Like a cloud before a storm. You held your breath. "But you wouldn't dare hurt a fly."

He released your wrist and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to step back until your back hit the table. He leaned in. His face so close to yours that you could almost feel his warm breath melting into yours. A few inches and you could close the gap between your lips. A few inches and -

"Well, niece. I hope to see you for dinner. And, of course, I expect you to behave."

With that he released you. With that, he turned on his heel. 

He stopped. And without looking back, he added: "And please. Don't make a habit of me saving you. 

Well, you were evenly matched.

[yazzzmints]

Duty and Sacrifice

[ Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Alys Rivers ]

[ Warnings: angsty af, bipanics, polyamorous, cuss words, death, blood, age gap, Aemond being a simp, future smut, (y/n) being done with everyone.

More will be added as the story progresses.]

Duty and Sacrifice

Chapter 1: The Beginning 

WC: 705

Driftmark 122 AC

Lord Corlys loved his granddaughter deeply, seeing in her the living embodiment of his bloodline and a testament to his influence over the realm. In the rigid hierarchy of Westeros, daughters traditionally held subordinate roles, expected to dutifully obey their fathers and prepare themselves solely for marriage and motherhood. Yet, such conventions held no sway over his (Y/N). She was destined for a  greater purpose, to wield authority, to express her convictions. Though she would inevitably fulfill her duties in the birthing chamber, she would also carry forth his legacy and that of his wife, the Queen who never was.

He looked onto the children hugging with his wife, the contrast between the princess and her younger brothers was starkly apparent. Despite this distinction, Laenor claimed them as his own, a fact that seemed unimportant when the heir boasted Valeryon blood. Lord Corlys found contentment in the unspoken understanding between his son and Princess Rhaenyra. There was no one who dared challenge their legitimacy, lest they risk losing their heads.

The children's trip to driftmark was brief, Laenor had expressed his desire to spend some time away from the court, an excuse to dalliance with his lover from prying eyes. The children spent a fortnight learning of their fathers heritage, hearing stories of the sea and such, today they will go back to King's Landing. Little (y/n) with her dragon eyes hugged her grandparents with her tiny arms, although sad to leave she was happy to return to her mother. And so there stood the Lord and Lady of Driftmark stood on shore, watching their legacy sail back home. 

.

.

.

Princess Rhaenyra awaited her children eagerly. Though they hadn't been gone long, her motherly instincts fueled her concern for their safety. Lucerys was the first to run to her, followed by (Y/N) trailing after her younger brother.

"Mama!" they all shouted in unison.

Rhaenyra gathered her children in her arms. "Oh, my loves, how I have missed you all."

"Even me?" Laenor joked as he joined his wife in hugging their children. The ever-watchful green eyes of the court were everywhere; they could not afford to give anyone a reason to doubt.

"The King has arranged a private dinner to welcome his grandchildren back," Rhaenyra said, smiling at Laenor. "I hope the break was sufficient."

A knight behind them coughed at the princess' words.

"Oh, it was," Laenor replied, a knowing smile in his eyes.

.

.

.

Back at the castle, Princess (Y/N) eagerly searched for her only friend, trailed by servants carrying an assortment of gifts. She finally found him in the library, engrossed in a book and unbothered by the world. She decided to disrupt his peace.

"Aemond," she smiled, "I got you gifts." She sat next to him, her excitement palpable.

"Look," she gestured, and the servants displayed the gifts brought back from Driftmark. "I got you plenty of books and this pretty seashell."

Prince Aemond smiled at his niece, sweet and innocent as she was, so different from her brothers. They chatted about her travels to Driftmark and his activities in her absence until it was time for dinner. The dining table was lavishly set, overflowing with food and wine, which Prince Aegon was quick to reach for. On the right side of the table sat Princess Rhaenyra's family, and on the left, Queen Alicent’s. The King presided at the head of the table. They began with a prayer to the Seven, led by the Queen. 

“Children, how was the trip?” The King asked after the prayer. Jacerys and Lucerys looked at their sister.

“It was wonderful grandfather, it was nice to see the place where my father grew up.” she smiled.

As she recounted their activities, the princess couldn't help but notice the Queen's subtle attempts to mask her distaste when Driftmark was mentioned. Princess (Y/N) felt a shift, sensing the delicate balance of power and loyalty that defined their lives. She held her grandfather's gaze, drawing strength from his presence. The tension simmering beneath the surface, the family continued their meal, each lost in their own thoughts. However, (y/n) stared at the queen, making her feel uneasy. After all, Queen Alicent was no fan of her dragon eyes.

taglist

@snh96 @dahlias-and-marigolds @galactict3a @mandiiblanche @heavenly1927 @watercolorskyy @toodlesxcuddles @ellieabby @oxymakestheworldgoround @laura-naruto-fan1998

[A/N: sorry for posting this late af. Spring semester kicked my ass but I am back. Chapters will start flowing.]

[ladythornofrivia]

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Three)

word count:

author’s note: I’m writing the last chapter! Woo!

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts…jk…I’m going to add two more chapters)

Three weeks has passed since you have kept yourself and your affairs in secrecy in the Red Keep. Needless to say, it was evident that you have found peace within yourself. Or rather with the one-eyed prince, who would not stop touching you in all places of your body.

His secret—his own holy sept—spilling each other’s fantasies and interests alike. From night until dawn, everything was accorded.

Each time you spent hours with Alicent and her other Green children in a summer daylight, you felt like a cumbersome and sinister virgin committed a crime to your precious sex. Thankfully Gwayne and Criston or the Cargyll twin, even Harold weren’t there to witness the guilt and arousal you’re trying to hide from a tempted imagination.

In the midst of vipers and ambitious alike, you found solace of writing the accounts on your diary. Entries on the pages filled with thoughts—daily and private—one which you know more than anyone else.

The prayers of the Faith of the Seven has been all but a fever dream. What was the religion’s purpose other than a guidance to those who are lost? You were lost once, but no doubt that your prayers were ever answered. You prayed to the Gods that you wanted to know your origins, of how you came to be as the lady with teal eyes, a daughter of Otto Hightower, but the Gods never gave, so you surrendered your faith at the age of seven, but masking it, pretending to be faithful in order to persuade your father and the Hightowers to achieve their good side was nothing more than an act.

And useless, more like.

An illness poisoned in your old wounds again. What does guidance do other than supplanted the seed of greed, selfishness and lies and pettiness to save themselves from others while the innocence tainted like a wounded womb?

Otto was nothing more than a heartless man served to the likes of his greed for the Iron Throne, the Red Keep, and above all, to Alicent.

Has he accepted you like he does to Alicent, there would be no consequences of silent hostility between two factions and conflict within.

Souls like them are already tainted.

But in a way, you’re glad; being in the same room as Otto would be as consequentially stupid as an untrained eye.

In the latest days in King’s Landing, your adoration for the city has grown less, but the sea and the gardens are the only things that could make you relish the taste of small life.

Aemond had taken you to the gardens, of course, and there you raced with pearly silks of ruffled gown and pearls adorned the neckline, hair fumbled in the wind as you looked back at the one-eyed prince with a gleaming smile.

Thin rays of light cascaded down on your winsome manes and the sparkles of your pearl gown.

On the midst of your white-pearl, there’s a necklace, adorned in large white pearls and a sapphire on the center. Aemond gave you a gift before the day of your nameday.

You were not a type of noble who celebrates nameday, especially if you consider yourself to be in a lower rank in comparison to Queen Alicent or the Targaryens.

Oddly, it has been tranquil since the day you arrived King’s Landing, but the days where you spent your days in your room, the gardens and library, as if nothing special occurred. That is until Aemond caught a certain subjects that caught your eye.

But Aemond is more fascinated with your enamored beauty gleaming like a flower blossoming into the sun and wind.

His hands never stopped roaming to your body.

“We’re in the gardens, my prince,” you reminded, giggling.

Aemond hummed as he plunged a kiss and undo his breeches, but before he does, an attendant arrived and announced that Alicent wanted a discussion with Aemond. With loving eye, Aemond bid his goodbyes and left, and within each breath you drew, it leaves you wanting more.

Each day, you and Aemond spent days into each other’s company, but it wasn’t enough. There are times at night is where the thrill accelerated. Nights dawned with passion and blood engulfed with desire.

Aemond thought of no consequences as he pounded his long cock into you—bed creaking as the skin slapped with his.

“My sweet, my love, my muse,” he said, rasping, his head threw back, drawing a feral growl, hips throbbed and rushed. His mind reeled to a thought of you, healthy and glowing with a rounded belly. He wanted to touch you, but in a public, Aemond would be in jeopardy, but since he’s the second son of the ill king, Aemond laid his hand on your thigh, brushing his whole palm, rising and falling motion, no care for consequences.

He could heard your breath hitched, but kept your composure—entertained your guests and family members. Surely it appears friendly and cordial on the outside, but underneath the table was nothing more than a filthy naughtiness arising from the stroke of his hand. His young and rugged, cold hands. You loved his cold hands. He recalled of your face flushed and in heat. Although he preferred heat, the dragon prince reconsidered it on making his hands cold, to pinch and flick your clit and pushing his lithe fingers in your warmth sounds as tempting and pinched the your taut nipples.

The curtains on your four-post bed swayed, and you found yourself moaning aloud, but his hand covered your mouth. His body pressed against yours and his mouth leaned onto your ear.

“You’re taking my large cock so well, my sweet princess,” he told you. “But you must be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded.

And his thrusts were twice as powerful, until he spilled every last drop of his semen into your soaked walls, and sweat on your flesh cooled from a plundering breeze.

“My good princess.”

Gevie, he thought, as he watched your sleeping body, your tangled locks, and your face leaning on his neckline for warmth, arms enveloping around his lean frame.

~~~

There are nights where you cannot sleep well. Nights about your dreams terrorizing you. The screams of a woman, calling out to you. Then you saw Alicent. Then your father; Otto screamed at you; His eyes were glowing in the dark, telling you how much of a disappointment you are and how everything wrong in his life, the burdens fell onto your shoulders.

Rumors of you, a mythical creature hissed in the dark. Until you found yourself on a high tower, falling, drowning, then nothing…

You woke up crying, and not long, Aemond awoke with concern, and held you in his arms, whispering sweet words into your ears, High Valyrian, telling you that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

You have never heard of High Valyrian before. His voice is music to her ears, and found her gaze locked to his as you both initiated a long feverish kiss. It was the first time that you felt at peace, where you didn’t need to cry on your pillow.

“I love you,” you told him.

“I love you more, my sweet.” He kissed atop of your head.

Dreams have subsided but it didn’t mean it went away completely. Something was calling out to you. The one-eyed prince remedied with his presence.

And for that, you weren’t in fear of the dreams, of the dark.

As of late, the shared passion between you and Aemond has come to a stop. You awaited him in nightly hours and yet the cold air swept in for an one-eyed prince to come and rescue you.

But he never did.

Could something happen to him? You wondered what was the cause. And you hadn’t known, that is until Aemond stormed into your royal apartments, fuming of the announcement of your betrothal to the Martell.

“I command you not to go,” he forewarned.

Confused, you said, “What are you talking about?”

Aemond prowled, fists clenching, his brows furrowed. “You’re marrying a Martell. You’ll be sent away to Dorne, without ever so telling me. What causes you to drive yourself further from my sight, my love?”

You gulped. “No one ever informed me of the marriage!”

His one eye beamed with glare. “I overheard that you’ll be wedded off soon.”

“I didn’t know of this. I didn’t know any of this!” you protested. “I have never done any errors, Aemond. I will never give you any reason to hurt you.”

Aemond’s hands clutched your arms, near to your shoulders. His knees bent and dropped down, and his head bowed and fell down onto your lap. “So…no one told you?” he said, his voice muffled.

“No one told me,” you said gently. “I’ve been in my apartment to repair the new dress you gifted me.”

“Grandsire told me so.”

You heart stopped.

“He agreed to the terms to Dorne, to win their favor.”

You felt numb at the moment.

“My father,” he bitterly said, “wanted alliance with Dorne for some time, but due to his illness, he was powerless. His mind already rotten, as you saw him before.”

“I have.”

“Why in the Seven Hells my grandsire do such a thing?”

“And you thought I was betraying you? You think I would go behind your back and agree to the terms that no one informed me of? I spent my days on my duties, waiting for you to come back. I tried to find you everywhere in the Red Keep, and nothing, you were nowhere to found. What am I wasting my time for, then?”

Aemond looked up with his good eye gleaming. “I apologize, my lady. You’re the woman I want.”

Your eyes glazed in hot tears; his hands brushed the sides of your waist, his forehead leaned against your stomach.

“I must speak to Alicent of this matter.” Then you got up and left.

But, instead of seeing Alicent, Otto was present before your eyes at Alicent’s apartments. Your chest tightened at the sound of his voice.

The Lord Hand awaited.

You took a step forward.

“Father,” you began, wondering if he’s willing to change his way.

You guessed it wrong.

“I never thought I took you for a fool,” he began. “Coupling with a one-eyed prince for whatever how long, and you decided to act immoral ways against the Faith of the Seven. You are a disgrace to House Hightower. Harlot as your mother ever was. What will Alicent ever think of you, my sweet child?”

But you heard the story wrong; there are rumors years back that your father, the Lord Hand, had an affair with a woman after Alicent’s mother has passed—when Alicent was just an toddler. As much as he grieves for his late wife, he needed someone to warm his heart, but the result began clear when it’s only temporary. And you don’t recall whether Otto treated you fairly.

“Alicent may not know this, but I do know. These walls have eyes, my dear girl. And if you ever lay a hand on any other members of the court, you’ll be sentenced mercifully to death.”

His soft tone never caused a shiver down your spine.

“You’re nothing but an enigma to my existence. You have soiled yourself, soiled my name,” he continued. “You must pray for forgiveness, and your desirable sins will be set free.”

“Where’s my mother?” is all you said.

Otto silenced.

“Where is she?”

Then a small smile crept upward on his lip. “You’ll never meet her. Perhaps you will, if you rid of yourself, I care not. We Hightowers thrive and survive, and you will not; you will rot to despair.”

Alicent’s children will reign Seven Kingdoms, and you will not.

For all these years, you have yearned affection and acceptance was nothing more than a pathetic attempt to injure your pride.

This was all you needed to hear from Otto—the ugly truth.

The comforting lie is just as ugly, like a gown wore on a rotten corpse.

“The Martells will attend here at the Red Keep. Best sure to be on your good behavior. Or you will pay the price by the repent for your existence.”

Maybe the comfort offering from the dead and living can be as painful.

~~~

At dinner, with the Martells involved, you shot a benign smile at the prince, but Aemond is saddened by the outcome. But in the midst of a chatter, you chose to stay silent and play an act of a nice lady. Smiling and nodding is all you could do. But on the inside, you want to thrash everything and burn the lives of those who wrong you.

But you’re only a lady, not Visenya Targaryen.

The Martell prince has been extended his kindness to you, but, afar, unbeknownst to you, Aemond paid attention to you. The glistened of your eyes—your teal eyes—dwindled and empty. And your smile is just as coiled and unnaturally unnerving. While you’re unseen to everybody else, only Aemond’s eye to you are well-known and heard.

No matter how much you tried to look up and glance another’s person eyes, the soul of your happiness is nowhere to be seen.

He has never seen you like this, aside from the tears and pain you have shared. Knowing why, Otto had the upper hand. A child-like state you shared with Aemond has stiffened to adulthood.

It was him, and Aemond knows it so. Otto was just as calculatingly obvious. Aemond urged to take you away and fled to the Free Cities, but his duty, he cannot afford to make a ruckus mistake like last time. Not that he’s ashamed of jabbing his grandsire at supper duration of Viserys’s nameday—he felt proud, but to his own end, his own calculation should’ve been more precise and less obvious.

The Martell prince offered you to take his hand for a night stroll, but you lead yourself back to your room, by excusing yourself.

Not long after, while the guests and his family are occupied by the Martells, Aemond slipped past them and met you back in your room, tackling you with a kiss and an embrace, leaving no breath in your chest.

Within your kiss, you cried, but Aemond had other plans on taking you back, to remedy his careless encounter he had with you this morning.

He took and soiled you again on your pristine bed.

“My father will have me killed if we keep doing this,” you warned him, stroking his glossy hair.

“I shall feed them to my dragon—of those who wronged us, if it comes to that. I care not of my grandsire,” he replied. “He’s as stupid as a boar.”

“What shall I do?”

“Let us make our vows to the Godswood,” he suggested, rather bluntly and more urgent; urgent because his anger was rising against of his grandsire.

“He knows about us, my dear nephew,” you said, tears trickled.

His thumb swiped your tear aside.

“We’ll find a way.” Aemond kissed your head, then onto your lips, after a prolonged of a ragged breath settled down from a torrid consummation, thinking about how he should’ve eaten you at the feast, your legs open and spread across the table, but he shall do that the next time someone tries to outsmart him, even if it’s a family member.

And there, you shared intimacy with a prince once more.

For now, assurance is all you needed.

~~~

In the midst of foggy, cold evening, with you asleep, Aemond managed to find the Martell prince and slaughtered him, tossed him at the highest tower of Red Keep.

The people in King’s Landing will take the Martell’s death as a suicide, but within the eyes of the Gods of Old and New, they knew that the one-eyed prince ended the Dornish prince.

~~~

The next day, the bond between you and Aemond mended and resumed, never minding of the misunderstanding, in your ivory gown with embroidered white roses and teal and green jewels sleeved your shoulders as Aemond in his violet and gold attire. You and Aemond are happy; sent to each other’s arms and the kiss became ardent. The love in between the curtained trees and shadows and thin ray of lights. You felt lighter, and so does he. But the struggles between politics and greedy desires from the people won’t end. But the one-eyed prince beg to differ.

To be continued…

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @syraxnyra @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @lothiriel9 @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @parttimegay @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @mylosz0

[fleurriee]

— the best way to learn ; aemond targaryen

pairing ; aemond targaryen x wife!reader

synopsis ; for a second there, you thought you’d lost your daughter. you should’ve known she’d be with her father, doing what they do best - causing mayhem in the privacy of your chambers.

word count ; 3.3k

themes ; fluff, established relationship (married)

warnings ; none. maybe slightly ooc aemond???

author’s note ; first time writing for aemond,,,, what do we think??? this man has a chokehold on me ever since that first episode we saw him in & i’ve finally given in and done something about it asdfghjkl also i can’t make alicent a villain, especially when she’s olivia cooke, im sorry.

masterlist request a fic!

You couldn’t find your daughter.

The last time you saw her had been early in the morning, sending her over to her nursemaids as they took over. She’d be spending majority of the day there, catching up on her reading and slowly beginning to learn more equity. You didn’t like it when the day turned out in such a way, because she was your daughter, and it was technically your job to teach her such things, but when yourself and Aemond became busy at the same times, you had no other choice.

This morning, you were called by Queen Alicent, your mother-in-law, requesting that you spend the majority of the day with her, sharing between both the council room, but also her chambers. She’d asked that you come in on some of the council sessions that would be taking place during the day, aiding her in the errands of the kingdom she was suddenly having to take care of due to the King’s declining health.

(Although, she had also mentioned that she also wished to spend some time with you regardless, seeing as it had been a little too long for her liking. The two of you had gotten along pretty much from the moment you met, with her relishing in the perfect match between yourself and Aemond. Ever since then, you’ve been like another daughter to her.)

You were constantly feeling honoured and a little proud of yourself whenever Queen Alicent would ask specifically for your presence during these meetings - after all, you were only her second son’s wife, with barely any authority placed upon your shoulders when it came to making final decisions like this.

When you’d first told her of your worries of others opinions on your presence there, she’d instantly shut them down. Queen Alicent head adamantly stated that she valued your opinion, not only as a member of her family, but as a woman. She knew you’d go with the options that would be best for the kingdom entirely.

No one had ever said anything to you, despite the lingering glances they’d continue to give you throughout each meeting. You had an idea that the reason nothing had happened was both on the Queen’s orders, and for the fear of your husband’s wrath should you mention just a slither of an occurrence to him.

The reason why Aemond was unable to properly look after your daughter was due to the training he had with Sir Criston Cole in the yard. It was an errand he didn’t enjoy - in fact, every time he knew he had it forthcoming and afterwards on his return, he would grumble and groan about participating in it.

When it came to Aemond, he much preferred staying in with his family, reading some other tome he’d found in the archives of the family library that spoke of extravagant histories. Aemond Targaryen had never been into tourneys and training like that, but, he knew, as was his duty as the second son of the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he needed to learn to protect those close to his heart - his two girls at the top of that list.

So, despite wishing he was anywhere else rather than in that particular yard, as onlookers watched on with beady eyes, he keep himself there. The practice would allow him to feel confident in himself that he could protect his wife and daughter. Not that he would never not try, anyway, but the reassurances were nice.

The bonus was that he was good at it, meaning those of the guard would command that he help protect the rest of the kingdom, alongside them. No one was about to pass up a good warrior like Aemond Targaryen, even if he did grumble and glare at them.

Therefore, due to the both of you being busy with duties neither of you were particularly happy to be doing, you had trusted your only daughter in the care of her nursemaids. Before you’d left her, you promised her that her mother and father would call for her later, at a more suitable time where the three of you could be together as a proper family in the safe confines of your chambers.

It was difficult to really show off the love you had for one another in the way you admired, majority of the time. You couldn’t really do so when roaming the halls of the castle, or when walking some of the better streets of the kingdom.

As royals, it was customary for you to keep straight faces, to smile politely in a nice way, and to only ever speak when you were spoken to, more so than ever seeing as you were a woman. To you, as a princess, the wife to the second son of King Viserys, it was of paramount importance that you taught your own daughter the same thing you were taught, too - to be a lady when seen in public, to be prim and proper, but when safely wrapped in the warm embrace of those your trusted wholeheartedly, be whoever you wanted to be.

Even from a young age, yourself and Aemond did your absolute best to teach her that, knowing it was to be a fundamental part of her personality if she were to survive in this part of the world she was chosen to grow up in. Thankfully (as you’d always say), your daughter had taken after her father immensely in every way, and not just in her appearance, with her violet eyes and silver mane - no, she was also fierce, wishing to one day be wearing a similar armour to her father and wield a sword that represented his.

This dream of hers wouldn’t disappear, no matter how many times you heard others try and quell it. It wouldn’t, though, not when you, Aemond and Queen Alicent herself allowed her to dream whatever she wanted, promising her that one day, they would all come true. And, if it was up to the three of you, you’d make sure it did. Aemond had told her it would, too, many times, but reminding her that, for now, the two of them would have to pretend it was the same when fighting with wooden swords in your private chambers.

And, that’s exactly where you were headed now.

After bidding a swift goodbye to your good mother, promising her that you would make sure to see her again before the day was over (to which she replied, preferably with my son and granddaughter, with a chuckle), you’d gone back to where you’d left your daughter with her nursemaids early that morning. But, upon entering, you noticed she hadn’t been there - no one had.

Despite believing that surely she’d be safe if she was in the company of her nursemaids, knowing they’d protect her with their lives as they had vowed, for just a split second, you could feel your heart dropping to the very bottom of your stomach, feeling as though you were going to throw it up out of nerves. But, you told yourself that everything was fine, willing yourself to calm down, and repeatedly telling yourself that you simply hadn’t checked enough rooms to be completely worried yet.

However, it only spiked up more than ever when you’d gone down to the yard to speak to your husband, wanting to see if maybe he had seen her. Only when you came up short, everything felt worse. Not even Sir Criston was there, meaning you couldn’t question him about anything, even if you’d wanted to.

There was a part of your mind that was desperate to think logically, to think rationally - maybe Aemond had left to see her. Yeah, you’re sure that was it. Still, that one part of your mind wouldn’t stop nagging at you with dangerous, pessimistic thoughts.

Palms sweating and eyes flickering madly from one corner to the other, and then only repeating the same process, desperation is clear in your actions as you tried your damn hardest to keep a levelled composure. You knew it wouldn’t do well for anyone else dwelling in the confines of the kingdom’s walls to see you acting so wildly and brash, not when they were so used to you being the rational one that calms your husband down during his own heightened tempers. There would be no use in causing a mayhem if there was nothing to worry about, which is what you continued to tell yourself, hoping that the more you thought it, the more likely it would be on the other end.

It wasn’t like you could help these particular feelings, either - you were a mother after all, and you were always going to worry. No matter the circumstances, no matter the place, no matter the people… you would always have these lingering doubts that something was wrong with your baby if she was ever not in your’s or your husband’s arms.

That’s why your steps stayed hurried and frantic, and your breaths started to become slightly laboured as you rushed to your shared bedchambers, forcing the doors open and hoping above all hopes - to both the Old Gods and the New - that something would be inside that would give you the answers to calm your racing heart.

And, the sight that greeted you, face-to-face, the moment those doors opened, managed to fill your heart with the upmost of love.

There, standing on your bed, feet bouncing her up, down and around as she yelled out with her squealed, tiny giggles, was your daughter. Her hair was an absolute mess, no longer styled in the plaits you’d given her that morning; strands of silver falling into her face from the length of it - again, wanting to take after her father. It wasn’t bothering her, though, not when there was an elated smile plastered right upon her lips as she attempted to push her father further away from her, hands pulled out in front of her like she was warning him off.

Said husband of yours was continuing to stand at the end of your bed, a teasing, expectant expression on his face, like he was awaiting something. Aemond was slightly hunched over, preparing for the next opening when he could pounce upon your daughter and attack with all the love he had on offer.

As all this was happening, you stayed silent, watching on as the two of them breathed heavily. That was a sure sign that this had possibly been happening for a short while now - as it always would, when she was playing with her father.

“Kepa (father),” she paused, taking another deep breath, the flush of her cheeks apparent as another small giggle escaped from her lips. “Kepa (father), I don’t know!”

Walking ever so slightly closer to her, Aemond tsked, shaking his head. Still, the reading grin never left his features. “Yes, you do, ñuha byke zaldrīzes (my little dragon)…”

My little dragon. You absolutely adored it when he called her that, making you feel proud and domesticated with the two of them, with your little family. And, she was his little dragon, in every aspect - looks, personally, heritage. It would only be a matter of time before she possessed her only companion, and you couldn’t wait to be there with her for that achievement.

However, too caught up in the haze of the love you held so dearly for them, you hadn’t realised your daughter spotted you, her eyes sneakily looking for a way of escape and heart jumping for joy when she spotted you lingering. “Muña (mother)!” her yell pierced through the walls of the chambers, clambering herself off the bed as quick as possible (trying to avoid her father’s arms reaching for her), and wrapping her tiny self around one of your legs, safe beneath your dress and hiding herself behind the material.

Watching her, and noticing what had caught her eye, accompanied by her correct High Valyrian, your lord husband spotted you, as well. His once teasing, mischievous expression instantly turned softer at the sigh of his lady wife, stepping a little closer to the two of you. “My lady wife, I did not expect to see you until later in the day.”

You chuckled, smiling back at him lovingly before reaching a hand out to stroke the top of your daughter’s head, both a motherly gesture and an attempt to brush some of the silver strands back from her flushed face. “As did I,” you replied, “but when I went to check in on Visenya only to find her not there… I panicked.”

With a sympathetic smile, Aemond looked lovingly down at you, at the worry that was still slightly hidden behind your tone of his at your admittance. He reached over until his hand was clasping behind your neck, bringing you forwards and all the more closer to him so he could place a delicate kiss against your forehead. The whole gesture was so loving and tender, so much different in comparison to how he usually portrayed himself anywhere else that wasn’t in your chambers with his little family.

“Kepa came to get me,” your daughter explained, not realising that she was beginning to rat her father out. Her chin was propped up against your leg, looking up at you with such innocent eyes - violet, like her father. “He told me it was time to learn more High Valyrian.”

At her words, you focused your attention back on your husband, cocking a brow at him as your smile slowly faded just a smidge. No one would’ve noticed it, but, Aemond wasn’t no one - he knew you better than he knew himself. He sighed, “I know I should’ve told you, but, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“You know I always check up on her, Aemond,” you spoke, voice quiet and just a tiny bit exasperated as you reprimanded your husband. You should’ve known Visenya would’ve been with her father all along, for reasons exactly as this one. But, the worry of a mother would always eat away at you until your daughter was back in your own grasp. That’s just how it was - you couldn’t help yourself.

As a second longer passed and the silence stilled within the room, the small slither of annoyance you previously felt dissipated at the apologetic, longing look he was sending you. You always gave in easily when it came to Aemond Targaryen, no matter the face he was pulling at you - he was just that handsome. You could feel a small shift down by your leg, spotting your daughter continuously looking from yourself, then over to her father, trying to fully understand the situation playing out in front of her, and you couldn’t help but feel refreshed again, like you hadn’t had any worries to begin with. “And,” you began, smiling wide down at her, Aemond instantly knowing your next moves just from one look at you, “you know I always like to join in when you learn High Valyrian.”

The moment the last word fell from your lips, you bent down with quick movements, picking her up within your arms and holding her tightly against you before she could even think about trying to run away. She squealed in utter excitement, laughing and giggling all the same, feet kicking upon your sides as she desperately tried to leave your embrace.

“Now,” you began, tilting your head down at her, before looking back up to your husband, “what were you teaching her?”

Aemond began to stand a little further back, already sensing that you were going to join in on what he had been doing to your daughter earlier, and sensing that more chaos was about to be brought forwards, giving you a little more room. After all, this was how the two of you always taught your little Visenya High Valyrian, because, at the end of the day, it worked out in the end, helping her remember her words. Plus, she secretly loved it, too, but, she’d never tell either of you that.

“I was teaching her to say one day, I am going to ride the biggest dragon in the world.” A prideful smile lingered upon his lips after he’d finished, looking at his daughter fondly. There was a look in his eyes that told the two of you he’d make sure it ended up true - he’d make sure the two of you always got what you deserved, and more. That was his role as husband and father, and he would continue to do so until the Stranger forced him to go.

You gasped mockingly, looking back down at your little girl, pretend disbelief marring your features. Visenya had stopped in her attempts to escape since, now looking up at you with her doe eyes, a small, subtle smile on her lips, waiting. “You know how to say that, my sweet girl,” you cooed sweetly, “kepa (father) taught you not too long ago.”

The memory came back to you instantly, of Aemond speaking about how excited he was of your daughter claiming her own dragon egg to you. It was something that had been on his mind practically since the day you found out you were expecting, and ever since then, he’d gone on about it. So, of course, he was going to teach your daughter how to boldly proclaim such a thing. It was all he wanted to hear from her.

Visenya’s face scrunched up when you’d reminded her she’d been taught it not too long ago, raising her hands in the air like the little drama queen she is. “I know, but I can’t remember!”

“Well,” you began, pointedly, in a sweet tone that had a lingering tease within it, one that came accompanied with a look that instantly told your husband that the usual was about to happen. “You know what happens when you can’t remember…” you gave a pause for more effect, sneakily looking down upon her before the biggest smile broke out upon your features, instantly digging your fingers into her sides as you began tickling her. Even more giggles than before erupted throughout your bedchambers, mixed in with both pleads and begs for you to stop, but, you wouldn’t. It was obvious she was having a fun time just from the sounds she was emitting.

Continuing on with your playful attack, you moved the two of you over in the direction of your bed, lying her down on her back as her little legs kicked in the air, trying to feign you off. Aemond came up beside you, looking down upon his family with loving eyes, laughing at your daughter’s demise, her peals of delight capturing his heart and squeezing it tight.

There was nothing he simply loved more than being trapped within his chambers - something he enjoyed before he’d met you, anyway, preferring his own company rather than having to pretend around others - but, that had only intensified when his two girls came tottering along, looking for someone to cling onto and protect them, something he’d always do even in his sleep.

Nowadays, he never truly complained or minded as much when he had to go about his duties and pretend to be someone he wasn’t really, putting on a front just to please some overweight lords who wanted to get in his family’s good books - not when it meant he had something special waiting for him towards the end of the day when he returned home.

Aemond Targaryen had the two of you under his dragon wings, arms wrapped firmly around him and not letting go any time soon, and he couldn’t ask for anything more… not when, already, he’d felt like he’d accomplished everything within his life.

[happilyhertale]

great! so this is kind of like an au but it's still set on the hotd universe. basically, I was wondering if you could do an aemond x fem!reader where their relationship is very similar to that of rhaenyra and harwin's relationship. reader is next in line to throne as she is rhaenyra's daughter. because of this, rhaenyra requests she has a knight for her daughter to watch over her and what not. enter aemond, the one eyed knight and son to alicent hightower.

the two eventually become smitten with eachother and form a secret relationship, with reader eventually falling pregnant with his child. some smut, angst and good ol' fluff. please? (also based on the song work song by hozier)

Sense of duty - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Finally! Thank you, Anon, for this great request! I'm sorry it took so long! Nevertheless, it was fun to write this story. I hope you like it (: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 4.2 k

The long awaited second part

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Aemond!" you gasp as he lifts you onto the table that stands behind you. His hand is between your legs, making its way to your already wet folds.

"Aemond! I... I hear footsteps outside!" you try to sound convincing that it is too dangerous to have wild sex in the middle of the library, in the middle of the day.

But only a "Mmmhm..." sounds from him as he leaves hot kisses on your neck. His "Mmmhm..." is backed up by your moans.

"I have given instructions that we are to be left alone... study... No one comes into the library"

"But...", you can't continue, his fingers have reached their destination and they are stroking through your wet arousal. You grab his shoulders and groan. Immediately his lips are on yours to muffle your moans. Firm, circular movements he leaves on your clit. Your hands are on his trousers by now and open them. In no time at all you release him from his pants and let your hand glide over his pulsing length. His hiss from your first touch quickly turns into a deep moan.

You press his cock against your wet folds and let it slide through. He smirks at you, "We're a little impatient today, aren't we?"

You moan into his mouth, "...Because you made me wait too long!"

With one thrust he is inside you and you literally cry out. It's been too long since you felt his full length inside you. That you felt him fill you completely. The stretching is almost unpleasant at first, until it turns into the feeling of pure pleasure. Aemond puts his hand over your mouth to muffle your whimpers as he slides his hot length back and forth.

"Fuuck... you're so incredibly tight," he gasps in your ear.

You can only continue to whimper. Aemond grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer. He reaches another angle, thrusts deeper into you. He holds you tightly and slams your hips down hard on his cock. The library, usually such a quiet place, is filled with your moans and the sound of naked skin slapping against each other.

"A-Aemond... I'm close!" you moan. His lips crash onto yours and he kisses you wildly. He doesn't let up with his thrusts and his hand finds its way between your bodies. His fingers reach your clit again, rubbing it frantically.

You claw at his leather waistcoat for support. The table beneath you squeaks dangerously with each thrust he gives you. The familiar, much loved pressure builds in your lower belly. Your thighs, tight in Aemond's hands, begin to tremble. You moan out, but Aemond can't bring himself to muffle your moan, it spurs him on further to thrust into you. He notices how you keep clenching around his cock. His name keeps leaving your lips, like a soft prayer that fills the halls of the sept. As you come on his cock, Aemond also notices his lower belly tighten. He reaches for a linen cloth lying on the table. As the tug arrives in his balls, he leaves your warm core. His hand grips your thighs firmly, the consequences will still be visible tomorrow. He gasps and moans as he spreads his hot seed into the linen cloth.

You lean your head into the crook of his neck and gasp softly. He caresses your soft hair as you stand there for a while. Only your heavy breathing can be heard in the library. You spread soft kisses on his neck.

But it wasn't always like this between you.

You are y/n Velaryon and the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Your duty is to take the Iron Throne after your mother. The second woman ever to sit on a throne. Your father is Laenor Velaryon and just like your brothers Jace and Luke, you have inherited few traits from your father. But you have at least inherited your father's silver hair and your mother's purple eyes.

You live in King's Landing and want for nothing. Even now you regularly attend council meetings. Like your mother before, you hand out drinks to the councillors and try to learn something from the political discussions. Your grandfather Viserys I is always present and leads the discussions.

At one of these council meetings, your mother had once made the request that she wanted special protection for you. After all, you are the heir to the throne and you should have a personal knight by your side who will always protect you. You just looked at her irritatedly from a distance. She did not return your gaze.

Queen Alicent, who was also present, thought this was an excellent idea. It did not take long before the perfect knight seemed to be found. To be precise, it was at the next council meeting when Alicent announced that she had found someone perfect. Aemond Targaryen. Her son. Your uncle.

In shock, you knocked over a cup and all eyes were on you. Aemond's eyes were suddenly on you too, looking at you emotionlessly and with a hint of contempt. Now it was also clear to you why he was suddenly attending the meeting.

After a brief pause, Alicent continued. Since there are no betrothal offers for Aemond, this seemed an adequate task for him. And what would be a more honourable task than to protect the future queen?

You were not surprised that the betrothal offers for him did not materialise. He was rude, uptight, always in a bad mood and let everyone around him know how little he thought of them. He was just a terrible person. And he should now be responsible for keeping you safe at all times.

You were not convinced at all and went to your mother after the council meeting.

"Mother. This is unacceptable. Have you never realised what an unpleasant person he is?"

She just smiled at you, "Good. Then at least I'm convinced he won't be distracted and his attention will be on protecting you."

You just looked at her in disbelief, but from her look you saw that this matter was already decided for her and there was nothing more to discuss. Angrily you left her chambers. Aemond was also not enthusiastic at first, but let himself be convinced by his mother that it was an honourable task.

So that's how you started spending time together. Unwillingly, you could say. You never spoke much to each other. Only a "good morning" left your lips when he stood in front of your chambers in the morning, which was never answered with more than a slight bow of his head. In the evening it was no different. You wished him a good night and before you could close your door, you briefly saw him bow his head slightly again.

This changed when one morning he could not find you. He stood in front of your chambers, but you did not come out. After repeated warnings, he came to your chambers, but he could not find you. You were not in the anteroom, not in your bed and not in the adjoining bathroom. Panic rose in him and he briefly felt fear that something might have happened to you. Not because he was particularly afraid for you, but because he was afraid of failing in the task that had been imposed on him. At least that's what he told himself.

He immediately rushed out of your chambers and searched the entire keep and its gardens. You had disappeared. You were not to be found in any of the other chambers, the council chamber or any other hall. On the verge of despair, he passed the library. Actually, he wanted to go to the training yard and hoped that you had lost your way there. But as he passed the half-open door to the library, his gaze fell in and he saw you sitting there.

Calmly, you sat there in an armchair and read a book. For a short time his anger was forgotten. The morning sun shone through a window into the library. It shone right on you and made your silver hair almost glow. Even though he didn't want to, he paused for a moment and enjoyed the view. When he regained consciousness, he stormed into the library, "What are you doing here??"

Startled, you looked up, "Mhm, I don't know if this looks familiar, but I'm reading a book at the moment."

He breathed heavily.

"Did you run here?" you asked with raised eyebrows.

Aemond snorted, "I was looking for you! You were not in your chambers where I am to meet you in the morning!"

You had to smile, "Pardon me..."

But he interrupted you, "You can't just disappear unannounced!"

Your smile disappeared, "I left you a note. On my table. It said exactly where I was. But now that I know that it does not even look familiar to you when someone is reading, I should send a servant to you next time to give you my message verbally."

"There was no note," he hissed.

"'Right… So if we go to my chambers now and check... Then there wouldn't be a note?"

Aemond did not answer immediately. He hadn't looked on your table. Panic had gripped him and he had no longer been able to think rationally.

"What are you doing here early in the morning anyway?" he asked instead.

Normally you would tease him further. But you had such a relaxed morning, you didn't want to mess it up.

"I couldn't sleep and so I came here early in the morning"

Aemond frowned, "You come here when you can't sleep?"

You simply nodded, "It is quiet here and I can give myself over to my thoughts. Read something... It's peaceful here."

"I've never noticed that before... That you like to read," he said almost softly. His anger of a moment ago was almost forgotten.

You looked down at your book again, "Perhaps you weren't attentive enough...? Or perhaps you have simply overlooked it... like the note on my table"

Now Aemond had to smile slightly.

From that point on, you talked more. You began to enjoy the time together, it felt almost unforced.

You even had to admit to yourself that perhaps he wasn't such an unpleasant person after all. That underneath his hard, unpleasant shell, there was perhaps a pleasant core.

But still, the one thing you didn't tell each other was that you enjoyed each other's presence. You enjoyed the warmth that emanated from him. When he just sat next to you and you read. Likewise, you enjoyed watching him when he read. The way he would frown slightly from time to time. Or how he would gently move his thumb over his fingertips when he had read an interesting passage. It's the little things that made you curious about how his lips would feel on yours. If there would be a tingling sensation on your skin when he touches you with his long fingers.

But you would never tell him that.

Aemond was no different. Countless times he had only noticed after some time that he was staring at you. That he had lost himself in the way you kept running your fingers through your long hair while you devoured a book. How you clicked your tongue slightly when you didn't quite understand a passage and had to read it again. He wanted to hold you, touch you, even kiss you... but he would never confess it to you.

After a few moons had passed, a ball was on the agenda. There was a big secret about why this ball was taking place. You and Aemond were both not keen on the idea and had toyed with the idea of simply retreating to the library.

Aemond came to fetch you from your chambers that evening. When he stood at your door and you stepped out, he was momentarily speechless. He thought you were pretty, no question. But that evening you left him speechless. He just smiled at you slightly. You had returned his smile.

Together you went to the hall.

While the lords and ladies present danced, you enjoyed the food and drank.

You were in deep discussion with Aemond when a lord joined you at the table, "Prince Aemond. Princess y/n," he had bowed his head slightly.

You smiled at him, "Lord...?"

He smiled as well, "Lord Cregan Stark"

Aemond felt a slight twinge in his chest. He didn't like the way you smiled at each other at all. But he liked even less how that fact bothered him.

"I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Princess. I have longed for this day for a long time."

His direct manner did not make your smile disappear, "Oh? Is that so? I hope you are not disappointed"

"Certainly not. If all goes well, I will leave the capital and have found a betrothed"

He smiled briefly at you and bowed his head slightly as he moved away from the table again. You didn't quite understand what Lord Cregan meant by that until you noticed your mother watching you from across the table.

You stood up from the table. Aemond's gaze followed you.

You walked towards your mother. She smiled sweetly at you as you sat down beside her.

"Mother... would you like to tell me why this ball is being held? And why Lord Cregan is approaching me? Talking about finding a betrothed?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "You will have to marry eventually. You will have to father children. You will need an heir. For succession to the throne."

"And then you sell me to the North???" you were horrified.

"Don't be silly. I'm not selling you to the North. Lord Cregan would move here"

You just snorted.

"Lord Cregan isn't bad looking after all. You could do worse. And from the looks of it, you did get on well," she took your hand gently in hers.

"Mother. I'm not going to marry him," was the only thing you said in reply.

She looked into the celebrating crowd, your hand still in hers, "The betrothal is as good as decided. You should spend some time with him tonight. Get to know him a little."

You looked at her, aghast. But then a couple of lords joined you at the table to talk to your mother.

You left the hall in a huff.

Aemond hadn't taken his eyes off you the whole time and had sensed immediately that something was wrong. He got up from the table and followed you.

He called after you in the corridor, but you did not stop. When you were in your chambers, you leaned against the door from inside. Aemond stood on the other side of the door and knocked.

"Y/n... Please let me in. Talk to me…", he almost begs you.

You exhaled heavily and wiped away a tear that left your eye.

Slowly you opened the door.

He came in immediately and closed the door behind him. Seeing that tears were in your eyes, all he wanted to do was hold you, but he pulled himself together.

Instead he whispered to you, "What happened?"

"My mother... She wants to betroth me to Cregan Stark... She wants me to produce heirs..." you whispered.

Aemond stiffened. After a moment's silence, he spoke softly on, "...You shall go to the north...?"

You shook your head slightly, "No... he would come here"

He just nodded. But his chest ached. He knew this day would come, but still he had not expected it.

When all of a sudden you stepped towards him, "I don't want to marry him Aemond... I don't want to!"

You looked at the floor and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. It broke his heart to see you like that. But he also knew the importance of doing his duty.

"I know... But you will have no choice," he whispers.

How he hated himself for that sentence.

When all of a sudden you looked up, "Yes... I will."

You stood on your tiptoes and hesitantly, yet determinedly, let your lips slide onto his. Your hands rested on his firm chest.

He did not expect that. At first he had not returned the kiss, but finally he could not help himself. His arms wrapped around your body and he pressed you against him.

"Aemond... claim me... Make me yours..." you whispered when you briefly interrupted the kiss.

He looked irritated, "Y/n... what?"

You took his face in your hands, "I want you Aemond. Not a lord from the north…"

Aemond couldn't believe his ears. He hesitated for a moment but let his lips slide back to yours.

That night he claimed you, and there have been many more times since.

You are still in the library. Aemond has pulled you to him on the sofa, he caresses your back gently.

"I should take you to your chambers," he whispers in your ear.

You gently stroke his chest and nod, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

He smiles, "If my princess commands me to."

You kiss him and murmur against his lips, "She does... she hasn't had enough of you yet"

He chuckles briefly.

Slowly he stands up and pulls you with him. You go to your chambers.

Once in your chambers, Aemond closes the door behind you after making sure no one is in the corridor. You are already walking towards your bed. Slowly you open your dress and let it slide to your feet. You step out of the dress and sit down on the bed. You sit with your knees bent and lean back a little, supporting yourself on your arms. You watch as Aemond walks towards you, slowly opening his waistcoat. You smile at him. A smile also curls his lips as he takes off his waistcoat. Arriving at the bed, he pulls you to the edge of the bed by the underside of your knees. You can't help but chuckle. He stands between your legs as he leans down to you, his hand resting on your cheek and he kisses you passionately. More kisses follow as he guides you onto your back. He hovers above you and you pull your leg over his hip. He still has his trousers on and the feel of the firm fabric on your bare skin makes you shiver. He presses his already great arousal against your wet folds. Your hands slide down his defined abdomen and you try to undo his trousers, but his fingers, which have now reached your wet folds, distract you. You gasp as his middle finger slides through your wetness.

"Fuck," he groans, "you're so wet... how did I get so lucky?" You just whimper as his fingers continue to rub into your arousal.

Finally, you manage to open the trousers and do not hesitate to reach in. You embrace his full length and he hisses at the touch. You let your hand slide up and down, he moves his hips to accommodate your movements. You pull his trousers down further, he helps you. Your naked skin lies on top of each other. His cock is coated with your moisture. Slowly he lets it slide through your folds, you whimper again.

"Mmhmm... you are really impatient today," he whispers to you.

"If you would do your duty better, I wouldn't be."

He just chuckles.

With one thrust he is inside you all at once. You gasp, his length filling you completely again.

He thrusts forward into you and your moans sound in unison. But you need more.

"Aemond... I... I..."

"Tell me what you need," he gasps.

"... Need you deeper... Closer!"

He doesn't hesitate long and moves your ankle over his shoulder, stretching you out and deepening the angle even more. You moan loudly and are joined by his deep grunts. You can't bring yourself to suppress your moan. The pleasure you feel is too great right now. You reach for his arms. Aemond thrusts into you with full intensity, you are almost sure that he will split you in two. The obscene sounds of your bodies fill your chambers. You are completely dazed and cannot think clearly as you grab his neck and pull him down to you. You kiss wildly, his thrusts do not let up. You are panting into each other's mouths.

"Thank you.. for fucking me, Aemond... I need... I need you so badly Aemond...", you murmur against his lips. You feel him grin slightly, "Anything for my princess..."

Aemond increases the speed of his thrusts. His balls keep slapping against your ass, and by now they are soaked with your arousal. The sweat of your bodies mixes. It smells of pure sex.

You feel yourself about to come, "Fuck... Aem...", but by then you are already clenching hard around his cock and taking him over the edge with you. You come together. Aemond is overwhelmed by his sudden climax and can't pull his cock out of you in time. His mind is blank, he just keeps thrusting into you and savoring his climax. You are both breathing heavily as his thrusts subside. Carefully, he takes your leg off his shoulder and drops onto the bed next to you. With great effort, you turn to him and gently kiss his lips. He holds you tightly in his arms.

"I have your seed inside me...," you whisper, still breathing heavily.

He nods slowly, "Apologies... I was overwhelmed," he pants, "I'll get you some moon tea tomorrow at noon."

You just nod slightly. He gently caresses your skin as you lay your head on his chest. Your eyes are closed and you just listen to his meanwhile soft breathing.

As Aemond slowly tries to sit up, you push him back onto the bed, "Stay... Stay tonight..." you whisper.

Aemond feels twinges in his chest area. Pleasant twinges...

He wraps his arms around you tighter, "Anything my princess commands me to do...", he whispers.

The next morning Aemond has persuaded you to go for a walk in the garden. You have done this often since the ball a few weeks ago. You strolled through the garden and kissed each other, hidden behind trees and hedges. You and Aemond have not spoken further of your betrothal to Lord Cregan. You do not know how Aemond feels about it. But it is clear to you how this story will end. You will not marry Lord Cregan. Every time your mother mentions your betrothal in a conversation, you end the conversation. You assure her that you will marry, but your mother is not aware that you want to marry Aemond. And since he has taken your maidenhood, she will have no choice but to agree.  

Suddenly a servant approaches you and automatically you take a step away from Aemond. Your mother wants to speak to you and you are expected in the council chamber.

Together with Aemond you go there.

As you enter the council chamber, you see your mother and Alicent standing there. They are talking to each other but stop immediately as you enter.

"Mother? You sent for me?"

Aemond is standing right next to you.

Your mother smiles at you, "My girl..." she sighs, "The maidens have informed me that you have not bled for a little more than a moon."

Your breath catches and is accompanied by a nausea that overcomes you. You notice how Aemond stiffens beside you.

You are at a loss for words.

"Mother...", you stammer.

She interrupts you, "Have you lost your maidenhood?"

You look startled. From the look on your mother's face, you cannot tell how she will react. You look back and forth between Alicent and your mother. They both look at you questioningly.

Somehow you hope that Aemond will say something, that he will stand by it. There is an oppressive silence in the air.

You swallow hard and watch your hands as you nervously play with your fingers, "I... Mother...," you look up, "…yes."

Her eyes grow wide and Alicent holds her breath, looking like she's about to faint.

As your mother takes a step towards you, "Who took your maidenhood?? What were you thinking?! What about your betrothal?!"

Your throat tightens and aches, your eyes burn, from the tears that well up in your eyes... You don't know what to say. You have not thought this scenario through that far.

When Alicent has regained her composure, she suddenly intervenes, "Aemond! Why didn't you do something?? You were supposed to be watching her!"

Again, this oppressive silence spreads.

Tears come to your eyes again and you look down at your fingers again, but now you hear Aemond.

"Mother... I did.. I did something," he stammers.

Alicent just looks at him with wide eyes questioningly. You hear him breathing heavily.

But now he sounds more confident, "I took her maidenhood, mother. It's my child"

Startled, you look to the side, but Aemond does not return your gaze.

He takes your hand and now looks at your mother, "And I will marry her"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @blue2023

@targaryen-dynasty

[blayresmuses]

HOW THEY SHOW AFFECTION

summary: how the hotd characters show their affection in relationships.

includes: aemond, aegon, alicent, rhaenyra, daemon, jace, harwin

warnings: mentions of sex and mentions of violence

authors note: i honestly don’t even know if this concept makes sense but oh well enjoy :)

once aemond accepts his feelings for you he’s surprisingly attentive and affectionate. everyone at court can see how he dotes on you - not that they’d mention it in front of him - and how even the briefest mention of your name has his head turning. he does shower you in affection physically but you notice more that quality time together seems to be his way of showing his love to you. he often invites you to the library with him or offers to take you out on vhagar. his favourite is when you sit and read to him, his head in your lap and your hand absentmindedly running through his hair. more often than not be finds excuses just to be in your presence - he even returns in the evening after doing his daily activities to have dinner with you, most times even following you to the bathtub after. he just can’t stay away.

aegon is much different, more reluctant to openly declare his feelings but wanting you to feel special all the same. it mostly comes out behind closed doors, a gentle, softer side of him exposing itself. he’d take his time undressing you, caressing you slowly and actually putting your pleasure before his own, something he hasn’t done much with the many girls he’d been with over the years. additionally he often surprises you with lavish gifts, helpfully chosen by his mother more often than not but you appreciate it all the same.

alicent dotes on you sweetly but what makes you really feel special is how much trust she puts in you. she openly confides her deepest secrets in you and tells you her fears, just like you do with her. the two of you share dinner nearly every night where you discuss your days and stresses, you’re often the first one she comes to for council. it’s more about emotional intimacy than anything that shows you how special your relationship is. your chambers are usually filled with your shared whispers well into the night as the two of you lay in each others arms.

when rhaenyra is younger, especially after her brothers are born she is all for being rebellious and you love how special being included in that makes you feel. the two of you are constantly trying to outdo each other and it makes for some fond memories for the two of you as the years pass. she shows her affection to you by simply making you feel wanted and important - she invites you everywhere, always asks for your advice and she especially loves when you reassure her of her position. rhaenyra is also always complimenting you - your dresses, your body, your hair - she’ll say anything to make you blush. it’s been noted in court how often she leans over to you to whisper something in your ear, often leaving you giggling or blushing.

daemons way of showing affection is purely sexual. he’s handsy at the best of times and lecherous at the worst, often pawing at you even when there’s others around - showing everyone that you’re completely his as he is yours. in the bedroom he takes utter care of you, even when he’s rough you can see it in his eyes how much he cares, can hear it in his voice when he murmurs dirty words in valyrian to you. it’s addicting and he refuses to stop until you’ve had a few orgasms at least. what makes your heart flutter the most is how protective he is of you and your marriage, even when he’s blunt when asking of your feelings and often doesn’t have much constructive things to make you feel better. he’d never hear a bad word about you, even if it’s from your own mouth. he’d kill for you and he has no problem proving it.

jacerys is nothing but devoted to you, completely. he surprises you constantly with little trinkets or books, things that mean something to you. he’d do anything to make you smile, only so he can compliment you on it. he’s loving and doting, always clearing gaps in his day to spend quality time with you when he can. he’s affectionate in every way, loving to give you soft kisses on your forehead or on your hand.

harwin is just completely soft for you and only you. he’s affectionate always, keeping a hand on you at all times. he’s protective but not overbearing, letting you do your own thing at balls and when you’re out in kings landing but keeping an eye on you all the same. he adores touching you and it’s usually the first thing he does when he returns to your chambers, takes you in his arms and holds you until he’s content to let go. when you’re alone together he’s glued to your side, even offering you massages just to get to touch you. he also loves teaching you to yield a sword, he laughs the whole time at your determination because let’s face it, you’re not beating him but the two of you enjoy it all the same. it always ends up with the two of you rolling around on the ground after you’ve thrown down your sword and tried to tackle him for too many teasing comments.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (4)

The Book

Though Arianwyn wants nothing more than to devour the book Aemond gifted her, she finds herself tear her mind from Aegon’s taunting words. But as she recalls a difficult conversation with her cousin and lady’s maid from the night before, she decides that perhaps she does not want to be married – ever.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: An Alicent POV? It's more likely than you think...

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn sat at one of the great oaken tables in the library of the Red Keep, elbows on either side of the great tome before her as she pressed her balled fists into her still-flushed cheeks. She had been waiting for the answers contained in this book for as long as she could remember, but now that they lay before her, all she could think about was Aegon’s words.

“As soon as your father acknowledges you’re alive…”

What did it matter that he acknowledge her? Had she not been taken in by the King and Queen themselves? Lived in their castle, raised alongside their own children? Was she not the Lady of Runestone, head of an ancient and noble house in her own right? Why should her fate be determined by a man she had never met?

Daemon Targaryen was across the Narrow Sea, living happily with his young wife and two daughters. According to the latest ravens, a third child would join them soon.

Did Lady Laena know about her stepdaughter—or Baela and Rhaena about their sister? Did they care? Did they yearn to know her as she did for them?

Likely not, she told herself. Daemon had remarried before Arianwyn had seen her first full moon. He had not written to inquire about her health nor that of her mother. He had said nothing before fleeing across the sea. Ten years had passed, and he had never once written to his firstborn daughter.

He did not want her as part of his family.

“Aria?” Aemond’s soft voice echoed through the cavernous library. He had been wholly silent as they raced through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, passing by her chambers to retrieve the book before coming to the library.

Now, he sat next to her at their usual table, a stack of parchment in front of him. They had been here many times before – at this same table, delighting in each other’s companionship and curiosity, but their hours here had grown quieter in recent years. They were no longer the rambunctious children they once were. Aemond would readily admit much of the fault in that lay with him.

He was not as happy as he once was.

But he was still happy here, in their place. It was perhaps the only place he could still depend on to find comfort and respite. Here, he was never alone. Even if Aria was elsewhere, he could still find her in the books. The winding rows of shelves held happy memories of their childhood, when they first delved into the paper forest in search of knowledge.

Here, they had uncovered the great tales of their ancestors and felt the great legacy that sat upon their shoulders. Only now, Aemond realized the true, overwhelming weight of that legacy.

Just after his tenth nameday, Aegon had caught Aemond reading one of the more romanticized books of Valyrian history in the library. He snatched it and began reading aloud. “And so the fair Princess Elaenyra was granted mercy by her uncle, the noble King Synar, for he knew she was not to blame for her father’s treason. They were soon married, and Elaenyra became Queen. In the end, Prince Vaerion succeeded at placing his blood on the throne, but at the cost of his very life.”

Aegon laughed, holding the book aloft so Aemond could not take it back. “Is this history, or is it one of your fairytales?”

“It’s history!” Aemond whined, jumping to try and reach the book to no avail. “You would know that if you actually cared about our family’s past. Now give it back!”

“But it’s so stereotypical for real history,” Aegon finally let Aemond have the book again, but the mischievous smile remained on his lips. “The king rescues the fair princess, and the second son is killed for his hubris. Actually…” He made a show of looking over his brother from head to toe. “I suppose that’s quite realistic.”

Something about the way he said it made Aemond panic. He went into a deep obsession, trying to prove Aegon wrong. He read through the histories furiously for every mention of second sons. Not just Valyrian history but that of the Andals, First Men, and every other civilization.

In every book he read, the second son never got a happy ending. Most died young, having been sent to battle in the place of their more valuable elder brother. Some survived, living to see their sibling take the throne. Of these survivors, many became valuable advisors and received the great honor of being mentioned, however briefly, alongside their King’s noble deeds. Others earned more notoriety by attempting to build their own legacy. Whether they tried to usurp the throne or establish their own lands, those men died bloody. From what he could glean from the stories, the best he could hope for was to fade into the annals of history.

Aemond had never told Aria of this revelation. He knew she would not understand.

She still saw the glory and romance of these stories. And why shouldn’t she? As the only daughter and heir of an ancient Westerosi house and a dragonriding descendant of Old Valyria, there was no doubt that her story would be a legend told for ages to come.

Until fate decided otherwise, Aemond would cherish being a small part of that legend.

Aria dropped her hands from her face, draping them over the book he had given her only that morning. “What?”

Her steely eyes were more distant than Aemond had ever seen them. No girl should look that way on her nameday, especially not her. “Are we going to read the book?” He asked, tapping his quill on his parchment for emphasis.

She looked down at the faded title pressed into the linen. Then, to Aemond’s delight, she finally smiled.

“You never told me how you found this,” she said, carefully prying open the ancient tome.

Aemond grinned eagerly. This was a story he had waited a long time to tell.

“I wrote to my Uncle at Oldtown,” he began. “Not Hobert – Devran, the Maester. He is an archivist in the library at the Citadel. Maesters there have been studying the Runes since the Andals first came to Westeros. I told him how important being able to understand them was to you, as the future Lady of Runestone.”

Aria looked away, focusing instead on the inscription on the book’s first page. It did not stop Aemond from spotting the way her cheeks flushed.

He continued, “Devran spoke to the other archivists and the Conclave to find out if they had any information there that we did not and if he could get permission to send it here. But they had nothing to send.

“When King Jaehaerys made peace with the Faith, he ordered copies made of everything in the Citadel. Knowledge is powerful, and he did not want the Maesters to be the only ones able to wield it. But the libraries of the Citadel were not exhaustive. A few libraries of the older houses, especially in the North, had books the Maesters considered unholy, so they weren’t copied. An initiate from north of Winterfell told Devran about the library at the Wall. It is small and ill-cared for but has been untouched for hundreds of years. So he wrote to the Maester there – I forget his name – and found this.”

He reached across the table and touched the page, indicating the title. Deciphering the Runes of the First Men. The author’s name had long since faded. “I don’t know how accurate it is. Devran made sure I knew it was only a theory, but it’s still more than you ever had before. I had my mother write to the Maester at the Wall to get it sent here. It took two months; I was almost worried it wouldn’t arrive in time.”

Hearing his tale, Aria’s smile had returned in full force. That was why he had spent so long trying to find this perfect gift. There was no sight quite like that smile. It illuminated her whole face, sending a delicate sparkle into her silver eyes.

He loved that smile.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Aemond,” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the book. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied, “just read.”

Hours later, both children lay underneath their table, their chairs long abandoned. Instead, Aemond lay on his belly, chin resting on his crossed arms as he tried yet again to comprehend the page in front of him through increasingly blurred eyes. Arianwyn lay perpendicular to him, using the flat of his back as a pillow while she sorted through the dozens of pages of parchment Aemond had filled while she read aloud.

Again, they were silent. But it was not the angry silence from earlier that day nor the melancholy silence that often followed Aemond. It was a happy silence—comfortable and inviting, like the silence that fills the air of a fire-warmed family hall on a snowy day.

Aemond groaned and let his head topple onto the book before him. “Aria?”

“Yes?”

“Why did Aegon make you so angry? Earlier, at the party. What he said was no worse than usual.”

Arianwyn tensed and sat up. She did not face him but crossed her legs and folded her arms around her. The words, when spoken, had evoked burning hot anger. Now, their memory only caused her heart to race with panic. “Because I am afraid to be married.”

“What?” Aemond shot up so swiftly that he hit his head against the bottom of the table with a loud ‘thunk.’ He stared at her as if she just said she wanted to marry her dragon. “But you haveto get married someday. It’s your duty. Why should you be afraid?”

Arianwyn scoffed, “And it may be your duty to go to war one day! Are you not afraid of that?”

“Of course I am,” Aemond insisted, “but that’s war, not marriage!”

“Marriage can be just as dangerous,” she whispered, too soft for him to hear. For the second time that day, her mind drifted back to what happened the previous night.

After dinner, Ser Gerold had insisted Arianwyn retire to her rooms early. He claimed she needed rest to prepare for the party the next day. But when the door closed behind them, he dismissed all her servants but one. Brynna Taler, who had formerly been a lady’s maid to her mother, Rhea, and was now Arianwyn’s, was allowed to remain.

Arianwyn knew immediately that something was wrong. Gerold was always so happy around her, loud and nearly boisterous. But as he sat in front of her now, elbows on his knees, he seemed nervous and visibly struggled to find words.

Brynna, at last, stepped forward. “Tomorrow shall be an important day, Aria. We wish to speak with you before the party to prepare you.”

Arianwyn looked between her cousin and her maid. “What is there to prepare for? It is a party.”

“It is not just any party,” Gerold said, speaking at last. “It is the party celebrating your tenth nameday. The Queen and I have discussed it, and we agree that tomorrow is the right time for you to start... meeting the young men of the realm.”

“But I have already met them,” Arianwyn said, puzzled by her cousin’s words and grim tone. “Most of them, at least. They have been to court before.”

Gerold laughed once, an uncomfortable sound. “Yes, I know. But it is time you start to… get to know them better. To consider them not just as visitors to court, but as potential companions.”

“I don’t understand,” Arianwyn said, beginning to mirror her cousin’s nerves. “I already have friends.” She looked toward Brynna, “And companions.”

The maid smiled. “Oh, my dear child. Allow me to explain.” She knelt on the floor in front of her. “Ser Gerold and I have both feared this day, but we have put it off for too long.”

She cupped the girl’s face in her hands, savoring her innocence. “Tomorrow, the Queen shall introduce you – or reintroduce you – to many of the noble boys your age. For when the sun rises, you shall no longer be a girl but a woman coming into her own.”

Arianwyn shied away from Brynna. “I am not a woman until I am twenty, and I take charge of Runestone.”

“That is when you shall come into your title,” Gerold said. The age had been decided when she was first put in the king’s care. She had never learned its reasons. “But you will be a woman before then. And though I am loathe to admit it, a woman needs a husband. You need a husband.”

At last understanding, Arianwyn nodded. “So, I must meet him tomorrow.”

“No!” Both adults shouted at once.

Gerold cleared his throat. “Tomorrow is only the beginning. We let the nobility know of your eligibility and allow you to meet their sons. No decisions need to be made tomorrow, nor the next day, or even in the next few years. I personally do not want to see you wed until you are six and ten. But we do need to begin somewhere, so it shall be tomorrow.”

Arianwyn nodded. She had expected a husband to come more naturally. He would save her from tripping on a dance floor or bring her wine at a ball. She had even imagined, on occasion, of saving a dashing young knight with Emrys, and together they would fly off to Runestone. She had never expected to meet him by appointment.

But she was the Lady of Runestone. To marry and bear children was her duty. Her romance may not be like the stories she had read for so long.

“I understand. I will do my best to present myself well tomorrow.” She stood from the couch and began to make her way to her private chambers.

“Wait.”

Arianwyn turned back, unsure what else there was to say. But a grim look from both her companions chilled her blood. Tentatively, she stepped back to the couch and sat down. Such a gloom fell over the room that she dared not speak.

“It is time you learned how your mother died.”

Tears sprung to Arianwyn’s eyes at the memory of the gruesome tale. She had come to realize that Daemon did not care for her, but she had never imagined the depths of his cruelty. She was so consumed by her thoughts of grief that she did not realize when Aemond crawled along the carpeted floor to sit beside her until he put his arm around her.

Noticing her wet eyes, he lowered his voice. “Why are you afraid to marry, Aria?”

She could not tell him. Gerold had told her so. They could not predict what Daemon would do if the tale got out. Besides, there was no law against a man raping his wife, and the King had never truly punished his brother before.

“I am afraid,” Arianwyn started, “because I do not want to leave. King’s Landing is my home, and all my friends are here. I don’t want to go back to Runestone with only a stranger for company.”

She supposed it was not a lie. The Red Keep had been her home since she was two months old. Except for Gerold, all her family and those she cared about were here: the king, queen Alicent, Helaena, and Aemond.

“Then I shall come with you,” Aemond declared, sitting as tall as he could under the table. “I shall travel to Runestone with you and your husband and make sure he is kind and treats you with honor.”

Arianwyn smiled. He had no idea how reassuring those words were, even if what he proposed was impossible. “And what will you do if he does not? If he is cruel to me?”

A fire blazed in his violet eyes, the fire of so many Targaryen kings and conquerors that came before him. “If he does anything to harm you or even make you sad, I shall cut off his head and feed it to Emrys!” he declared, entirely serious.

A brief moment of devoted silence passed between them. But in a heartbeat, both children collapsed into laughter, their studies and troubles forgotten.

Queen Alicent Hightower observed the children from between two distant shelves. She had witnessed the confrontation earlier at the party but had been too deep in conversation with some lord from the Reach to intervene. Not that her interventions had any impact on how her children behaved. Not anymore.

“Were there any tempting offers?” her father’s voice rumbled behind her. He had been sneaking up on her like this for years – she did not flinch anymore. He had only been back at court a few days – ostensibly for Arianwyn’s nameday – and already he was grating on her nerves.

Alicent sighed, hand instinctually flying to grasp the amulet around her neck. “A few. None I plan to pursue.”

“Hmm,” her father placed his hand around her shoulders to lead her away from the sharp ears of the children. “I think I best to seal her betrothal while her father remains in Pentos. We don’t want to lose that advantage.”

The Queen brushed off her father’s arm. Rage took root in her heart at the mention of Daemon, the horrific tale Gerold had relayed to her just hours ago still ringing in her ears. “Arianwyn is not a political advantage to be leveraged.” Her voice was as fierce as she would allow in the quiet of the library. “She is my niece, dear to me, and a great friend to my children – two of them at least.”

Otto blinked, raising his chin to look down his nose at her. She hated that look. He only used it when he considered her behavior foolish and immature.

She steeled herself to continue, “She is a young girl who has lost her mother and been abandoned by her father. I do not doubt that if he ever returns, Daemon will see her as a pawn for his own aims. Until she comes of age, there is little I can do to protect her from him – or any other man who seeks to manipulate her. So, I will do whatever I can for her while I still can.”

Not waiting for a response, the Queen swept out of the library.

Taglist: @heartb8k2 @queenofshinigamis @leptitlu @xxxkat3xxx @malfoycassimalfoy @lokiofasgard12

[mariacallous]

(JTA) – A global bestseller by a Jewish Holocaust victim; a novel by a beloved and politically conservative Jewish American writer; a memoir of growing up mixed-race and Jewish; and a contemporary novel about a high-achieving Jewish family are among the nearly 700 books a Florida school district removed from classroom libraries this year in fear of violating state laws on sexual content in schools.

The purge of books from Orange County Public Schools, in Orlando, over the course of the past semester is the latest consequence of a conservative movement across the country — and strongest in Florida — to rid public and school libraries of materials deemed offensive. While the vast majority of such challenged and removed books involve race, gender and sexuality, several Jewish books have previously been caught in the dragnet. 

The Orange County case is unusual for the sheer volume of books removed — 699 including some duplicates, according to documents the district provided — and for the unusually large number of books about the Holocaust and Jewish identity included among them. They included: 

“Suite Française,” by Irène Némirovsky, a Ukrainian-French Jewish writer who wrote her novel in secret under German occupation before perishing in Auschwitz 

“Herzog,” a semi-autobiographical novel by Jewish writer Saul Bellow, an outspoken cultural conservative whose son Adam Bellow is a publisher of right-wing Jewish books

“Black, White and Jewish: Autobiography of a Shifting Self,” by Rebecca Walker, feminist theorist and daughter of author Alice Walker, whose own antisemitic comments and writings have faced scrutiny in the past

“Bee Season,” a novel about a high-achieving family of Jewish scholars and cantors, by Myra Goldberg

“The Splendid and the Vile,” a nonfiction history book about Winston Churchill’s decision to fight Hitler’s forces during World War II, by Erik Larson

The collected plays of Lillian Hellman, a Jewish playwright and left-wing activist who was accused of Communist activities

“The Storyteller,” a novel dealing with the Holocaust by bestselling author Jodi Picoult

“The Reader,” a German novel about the aftermath of the Holocaust by Bernhard Schlink

“Sophie’s Choice,” a bestselling novel also about the aftermath of the Holocaust by William Styron

“The Freedom Writers Diary,” a nonfiction compilation of several high school students’ diaries inspired by their teachers’ efforts to instruct them on the Holocaust and Anne Frank

“Books are removed from classrooms with deference to House Bill 1069,” district spokesperson David Ocasio told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, referring to a Florida law signed this year that heavily restricts instruction and classroom materials about human sexuality. 

No individual reasoning was given for each book’s removal, but Ocasio said that all of the books had been marked as “not approved for any grade level.” He added that every book will go through a secondary review to determine if it will be restricted to certain grade levels or “weeded from the collection” altogether.

Some of the books on Orange County’s list have come under scrutiny in the past for removals from other districts. “The Storyteller” was the subject of widespread press coverage after a member of the right-wing activist group Moms For Liberty successfully pushed for its removal from a different Florida school district earlier this year. “Sophie’s Choice” was recently removed from a third Florida school district at the behest of a Jewish parent’s challenge; both parents said their challenges were due to sexual content. 

Other outwardly Jewish books on the list, including “The Reader” and Philip Roth’s “Portnoy’s Complaint,” contain explicit sexual content. Non-Jewish World War II novels “Slaughterhouse-Five” and “Catch-22” were also pulled.

Among the hundreds of other books flagged for removal in the district were frequently challenged books like “Gender Queer” and “The Handmaid’s Tale,” as well as literary standards like Milton’s “Paradise Lost” and Maya Angelou’s “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings,” and children’s fare like a book based on Disney’s “The Incredibles.” Some items were listed more than once.

Other districts in Florida this year have pulled an illustrated adaptation of Anne Frank’s diary in order to comply with the state law.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Rev. 22:20 - Chapter Two: Martyr

Warnings: Talk of religion, unhappy family circumstances, male masturbation. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Aemond keeps a promise to Helaena and makes a confession.

Main series masterlist.

Author's note: I do not have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications to be updated when I post a fic. Community labels are for cops.

For the next seven days, the young woman he’d seen in the Sept is all Aemond can think of. He has never heard her voice and has no idea of what her name is, yet the image of her beauty is burned into his mind like a brand.

When he trains in the yard and the sunlight reflects upon his blade, he thinks of how her hair had shone in the dappled light of the windows as she’d moved about the Chancel. When he retires to the library to read, and the pages of his book slip between his fingers, he thinks about how delicately hers had wrapped around the wick she’d used to light the candles.

Perhaps they’d appear just as dainty when wrapped around his manhood.

He thinks of her when they bow their heads in prayer before supper, of how his eye had met hers as he’d left the Sept. He wonders if she thinks of him.

Do her thoughts wander to him, as her hand drifts between her legs?

She dominates his thoughts as he strokes himself to completion - a much more frequent occurrence since laying his eye upon her - he imagines spreading her out upon the altar, her wanton cries echoing off of the domed ceiling of the Sept as he spears her open with his cock. He drives himself to release after frenzied release, spilling over his knuckles and wishing it was deep inside of her instead.

Even in sleep, she gives him no respite. He dreams of her beckoning him to touch her, yet every time he reaches for her she slips away, always a hair’s breadth too far for him to grab. He wakes up each time sweating and painfully hard.

By the time Alicent’s weekly visit to the Grand Sept is upon him once more he almost doesn’t want to go. He fears that the reality of her will never live up to all of the ways in which he’s fantasised about her, that she will not be as ethereal as he remembers and he will leave disappointed, his illusion shattered.

Yet at the same time, the need to see her again is all consuming. He feels he may go mad if he doesn’t have the opportunity to look upon her face, to reassure himself that she is real and not something he has imagined. He longs for the opportunity to hear her speak, to know if her voice is as beautiful coming from her mouth as it is in his head.

The decision is made for him when Helaena asks that he visit the Dragonpit when accompanying their mother to the Sept. She has not seen Dreamfyre since giving birth to the twins, and misses her dearly. Though she knows the Keepers will be taking good care of her, she would like the reassurance of Aemond having seen her to put her mind at ease.

He agrees, wondering if the big, blue she-dragon will be filled with as much fury to see him as she was when he’d pestered her as a child, eager to see if she might have laid an egg for him to claim. He has Vhagar now, so he hopes not; his intentions are not quite so intrusive, and his mind is otherwise occupied.

As the carriage rolls through King’s Landing, Aemond is filled with restless energy, overwhelmed by the urge to burst into laughter with how rapidly his pulse races and the way his thoughts blur together, too quickly for them to be coherent. He purses his lips, remaining outwardly stoic, the drumming of his fingers upon his leg the only indication that he feels ill at ease.

“Did you hear me, Aemond?” Alicent leans over, brows knitted together in concern and mild irritation.

He startles out of his thoughts, her face swimming into focus as he finally looks at her. “Hm?”

She sighs, leaning back and smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I said, I need to speak with the Septas today. We must appoint one to aid Helaena with the care of the twins.”

Aemond simply nods, thinking it was barely worth the effort to listen to. He has no interest in talking to any of the withered old crones his mother will likely end up conversing with.

Casting his eye around the Sept as they enter, the crushing disappointment he experiences upon not seeing her is enough to drive him to violent rage.

How dare she not be here when he has spent the entire week thinking of nothing else?

The urge to topple the idols, tear down the tapestries and break apart the candlesticks has Aemond’s fingers flexing at his sides. Instead, he exhales sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw and stalking away as his mother takes up her position of prayer. He is in no mood to pretend to pray today.

He paces the sept, his eye fixed upon the tapestries, though he does not comprehend the images they depict, too engrossed in his own thoughts as he tries to calm his temper and pounding heartbeat.

Perhaps it is for the best that she is not here. He has likely misremembered her beauty, built her up in his mind to a standard which is simply unattainable. Even if she were here, what could he say to her? He is a Prince and she is a woman of faith, the two are destined for very different life paths.

Still, it does not stop the ache inside of him that yearns for her. He ponders on what her name could be, if her hair feels as silky as it looks, if the smooth skin of her cheek would be as soft as he imagines it to be. He imagines how the plushness of her lips would take shape as they round out the syllables of his name, coated in his spend.

He loses all track of time, as he wanders, fingertips grazing the stone pillars, until he is broken out of his reverie by the voice of his mother. His own curiosity gets the better of him and he steps closer, wanting to listen in.

She stands talking with one of the Septas, leathery skinned and sour faced, but it is not that that captures his attention, beside them is her. Her shiny hair and bright eyes are just as perfect as he’d remembered - no - better. His imagination is not capable of conjuring such a vision.

From the way she looks between Alicent and the Septa it is clear they are talking about her, and he does his best to hear what they’re saying.

“...as part of her training, she hears confession each day during the hour of the crow–”

His eye widens. She takes confession. He would have the opportunity to speak to her, if only he can delay his return to the Keep by an hour. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears as he struggles to regulate his breathing, and then he remembers his promise to Helaena before he had left earlier that day. He has the perfect excuse, and his mother’s hatred of the Dragonpit means she is unlikely to hang around.

When he feels Alicent’s gentle touch upon his elbow, the softness of her voice enquiring as to whether he is ready to leave, he turns to face her, taking her hands into his, doing his best to sound apologetic.

“Forgive me, Mother. I made a promise to Helaena to check on Dreamfyre for her, and I had quite forgotten. Return home without me, I am unsure of how long I will be.”

Alicent’s mouth tightens in displeasure and she sighs. “Very well. I’ll have the carriage sent back for you once I return.”

He nods, thanking her and watching her go, before making his way to the Dragonpit.

He has not been here since he was a boy, he has had no need to since claiming Vhagar. She is much too large to be confined here and he himself is struck by how less vast it seems now that he is a grown man and no longer a child.

The dustiness and dank smell takes him back to the day that Aegon and his nephews had presented him with ‘The Pink Dread’ and he scowls at the memory, remembering how they’d laughed as his cheeks had burned hot with humiliation.

He shakes the thought away, making his way towards the tunnel in which he remembers his sister’s dragon prefers to nest. He wonders if Aegon has checked in on her for Helaena since she made him a father. He knows Aegon must come here for Sunfyre, but if that were the case then why would Helaena ask Aemond to look in on her? Another of Aegon’s failings. Too selfish to accompany their mother to the Sept, too thoughtless to check upon the wellbeing of his wife’s dragon.

The last time Aemond had intruded upon Dreamfyre’s rest, she had roared at him, shooting fire towards him and causing him to stagger backwards. This time she is subdued, remaining curled upon the earthen floor, one cat-like eye regarding him reproachfully.

“What is wrong with her?” Aemond asks the Keeper.

“She is missing her rider, Your Grace,” he responds, leaning heavily on his staff, “It has been many months since Princess Helaena has ridden her.”

Aemond cannot help the pity he feels for the poor creature. “She will return soon,” he says, “The birth was a difficult one and she is still recovering, but my mother is enlisting help for the care of the babes, so Dreamfyre will have her rider back soon enough.”

He departs with a nod towards the Keeper, unsure of what to tell Helaena. It would crush his sister to know that her dragon is suffering in her absence, though he senses she is probably already aware of that, otherwise she would not have asked him to check. Perhaps she will feel better if he simply tells her that her dragon is eager to have her back.

The idea is pushed from his mind as he reenters the Sept and sees her making her way towards the confessional box. Commonfolk have yet to gather, so if he hurries he will get to be her first of the day.

His stones ache and his throat runs dry at the thought that he will finally hear her voice, finally speak to her. It strikes him as he walks towards the box that he has no idea of what he will confess, so fixated on the notion of speaking with her he has not even begun to think about what he might say.

It is too late to ponder on it as he finds himself seated on a wooden stool, the latticed opening in the centre of the box obscures her from his view and he despises it, wanting nothing more than to look upon her face as he speaks to her, to watch her pretty mouth as she talks to him.

“Blessings be upon thee,” comes her soft voice through the partition, “Are you here to confess?”

His chest tightens at the dulcet tones, it is as though he has forgotten how to breathe. He knew her voice would be every bit as lovely as she appears, but he never imagined it so sweet. His eye flutters closed, as he imagines how it would sound moaning his name, the slight upward lilt of how she would sound out the first syllable.

Aemond draws in an unsteady breath. “Y-yes, I am here to confess.”

“Then unburden yourself to me, and be cleansed of your sins.” She invites gently.

I’d martyr my own mother to ride through all seven Hells between your thighs.

He swallows thickly, thinking of something innocuous he can tell her that won’t identify him to her. “I-I covet what my brother has, and I am resentful that as first born he is given everything and squanders it.”

There is a slight pause before she replies. “You must pray to The Smith for the strength to overcome your jealous nature.”

Aemond bites back the urge to chuckle. 

Utter nonsense. 

But he is enjoying talking to her, and he is eager to continue. He realises that he wants her to know who he is, to be aware that there is a Targaryen Prince seated beside her, so he presses on.

“I harbour ill intent towards my nephew. I have never forgiven him for taking my eye. I wish for his in exchange.”

He hears her breathe in suddenly. She knows. How could she not?

Her tone is slightly unsure as she advises him, clearly rattled by what he has said. “Pray…pray to the Father for the wisdom to accept the justice you will never receive, and to the Warrior to have the valour to forgive such a slight.”

Aemond smirks at this.

Never.

He is beginning to enjoy himself, however, so he continues.

“I have been having lustful thoughts…about a woman, a novice from this very Sept.”

He hears her breaths begin to become more rapid and feels pride swell within his chest.

“I imagine taking her virtue on the very altar to which the people of King’s Landing offer up their prayers, I think about how she’d feel writhing beneath me as I rut into her, I–”

“P-please…” Her voice is trembling, her breathing ragged.

The reality of the situation hits Aemond like an icy jolt and he knows he has gone too far, he has frightened the poor girl.

Not giving her a moment to say anything else, he hurries from the confessional box. His leather boots echo off of the flagstones as he makes his way back out onto the street with long strides, grateful to see the carriage ready and waiting for him.

Despite the shame that blooms heavy within his chest, he strains against his breeches, the thrill of his confession heating his blood in a steady thrum. 

The moment his chamber doors close, his cock is in his fist bringing himself to the edge with thoughts of everything he’d described to her, the sound of her voice, the image of her lips wrapped around him. As his breaths become less controlled he pauses, struck by recognition at the similarity in pace and depth, and that is finally what pushes him into oblivion, spilling over his knuckles with a strangled groan. He recognised those laboured breaths, breaths of pleasure, breaths of a salacious nature.

Had she been touching herself to what he’d been telling her?

[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 1

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at it. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5.1K

"I don't want to go" You told your mother again at the gates of the Starfall’s airport. Holding the bandolier strap across your chest, it tightly, nervously. You looked at your mother with a sad look. The Dornish woman gave you a sweet look and tried to comfort you before going inside. There you would catch a flight to King's Landing, where you would spend the entire summer vacation with your father's family, Aegon Targaryen. "I can't, please..."

“(Y/N), you'll end up having a good time. Your father told me last night that he really wanted you to go with him” she smiled sweetly at you. Your mother only wanted you to spend the holidays with Aegon. She wanted a bond or relationship to exist where it didn't. All you had of your father were the purple eyes and his family name. There ended all the coincidences between the two. You imagined spending a summer like the previous one. Mainly keeping your grandmother Alicent company, while your father claimed to be too busy.

"Last year he forgot to pick me up" you sighed exhausted, looking elsewhere, trying to suppress the tears that welled up in your eyes. “Please…” you said to your mother again, but she just tried to brush it off.

“I have also warned your grandmother that you were taking the flight, and your aunt, so I don't think there is a way for them to forget about you this year. If one does not go, another will go to look for you” she smiled at you, caressing your shoulder in a reassuring way. You sighed again, this time with more force. You knew that your mother also had little say in that situation. When she'd divorced your father, long before you even had consciousness to remember, your Uncle Daeron, a devoted advocate for his family's cause, had struck that deal, whereby you spent your summer vacation in King's Landing, with your father, and the rest of the year in Starfall with your mother. You were a Targaryen first and foremost, and whether you liked it or not, you had to carry the family name and spend time with them, though you'd never seen your father overly enthusiastic about the idea. You were his only daughter, but that didn't mean much to him either. You would end the summer like the previous one, counting the volumes in the library of that mansion where your grandmother lived. 3,758 volumes of the history of ancient Valyria. That´s the amount you remembered counting last summer.

"Mom..." you sighed again, hugging her and breathing in her scent. You had just come of age, but you didn't care, you would always need it. She was about to get married again and you were about to go off to college. You felt as if you were both about to start separate lives.

“It will be the best summer of your life. The summer before you go to university is always the best” she replied full of emotion. However, she had no idea how much you were going to change that summer, or what it would mean the presence of a certain dragon.

"Aegon," Alicent yelled at him as he continued to sleep off his drunkenness in his bed. With his mouth open and the pillow full of drool, he continued to doze against his mattress as if nothing was happening. He had spent the whole Friday night partying, and what he now needed was to rest. He had spent the entire week being a functional adult. That was his reward. "Aegon!" Alicent yelled at him again, shaking one of his bare shoulders. She narrowed her eyes desperately, as if she couldn't take it anymore with her son. Really, she couldn't take it anymore with the eldest of her offspring.

"It's very early," Aegon muttered, rolling over on the bed and settling back to sleep. “Please, I need to sleep…” he spoke with a thick mouth.

“(Y/N) arrives today. You have to go to the airport for her” ordered her mother. Yes, he remembered getting a text from his ex-wife telling it last night, and he sending a simple ‘OK’. "Get up," she commanded again, but Aegon continued to sleep, or pretend that he was sleeping. The truth about your presence made him uncomfortable, so he preferred to silence his mind with alcohol. It was the best.

“Send Cole, with the black Mercedes. Surely (Y/N) loves it” Aegon replied, knowing that this would make his mother even more angry, but he couldn't think of anything better. He was in no shape to drive, and sometimes looking at you, he could only feel failure. You were the reflection of your mother if it were not for those eyes that showed your Valyrian ancestry. That was all he had left you, and he couldn't feel more of a failure. He was a loser whenever the subject of his daughter across the country and his brief marriage to that Dornish woman had been brought up in public.

"I think your daughter would be excited if you go after her" Alicent snapped. Aegon said nothing more. He couldn't, nor did he want to. He heard his mother leave the room with a tremendous slam. He snuggled back into her bed. He needed to sleep. He needed to rest so he could face you later.

'The dragon has three heads' was the headline you were able to read in the business magazine. It was being read by the man you had to sit next to on that flight. The cover featured your father and his two brothers, Daeron and… Aemond. You saw the photo carefully. The three of them seemed what they were: big businessmen, attractive, powerful, successful and… arrogant. Above all arrogant. Kings of the arms market. The power of war was the key to their fortune. You sighed as you saw Aemond standing in the middle of his brothers, the tallest of them…and also the most handsome. You blushed, quickly looking away from the cover. Aemond was your uncle. Your uncle. You repeated slowly in your mind. If you had little relation to your father, Aemond had tried to fill in gracefully until last year. Last summer he hadn't appeared once during your stay. Only during your birthday party and he had appeared there with stupid Alys. You had become jealous as soon as you saw her. But since you had repeated yourself over and over again, it was because she was stealing Aemond from you as a father figure... and nothing more. Nothing else. To think of anything else would be to admit your own folly. It wasn't right. Although you hadn't realized it, your gaze had once again been fixed on the image of Aemond on that cover. His eye riveted on the camera. His smirk. The patch always well placed. His hair loose but well combed. It almost looked like he wanted to fuck the camera, if he hadn't yet. He was so… so… you would have let him do anything if he asked you to…

“Do you want to read the magazine?” the man, who must have been your father's age, offered it to you. He was quite attractive. Medium brown hair, powerful beard and sincere eyes. He must have been from the north, but a businessman like the rest of the men in your family. Thanks to the seven, he had awakened you from that vivid imagination that you had those days and that you did not share with anyone.

"Oh, no, no" you said nervously and blushing, waving your hand as if it were crazy. "I was looking at the photo" you replied and the northerner laughed charmingly and looked you up and down funny.

"Yes, women usually find these three attractive" he laughed loudly "My first wife was head over heels for them" he laughed loudly and you blushed even more, as if you didn't expect that answer.

"No, no" you shook your head again, blushing if possible. "He's my father" You quickly pointed to Aegon on the cover, wishing that it would stay in one more anecdote. As if you felt proud of him, or you felt him like something more than the one who had impregnated your mother.

"So you are Aegon's daughter?" the northerner looked you up and down, still with an aura of sincere amusement and without malice. “You're the little (Y/N), by the old gods,” he chuckled sweetly. You looked at him confused and he smiled at you again. "I'm Cregan Stark, when you were born I was the head of consultants at Targaryen Industries" he offered you his hand to shake, and you played along and gave it to him. He smiled genuinely and without any malice. "I was already saying that those beautiful eyes were familiar to me" he smiled at you again.

"Well... I don't know who you are" you answered embarrassed as you continued to shake his hand. Once again the fame and the name of your family predicted you. You had thought about changing it to your mother's, but you had not told anyone. You wanted to be anonymous. Not being a Targaryen.

“I'd be surprised if you remembered. You were a baby in your mother's arms the last time I saw you” Cregan laughed kindly and you gave a half smile. At least this man was nice. “Are you going to visit your father?” he asked you leaving the magazine on his lap, trying to be kind to you.

"Yes, I spend every summer with him since I was five years old" you smiled politely. You knew that everyone expected you to speak well of your paternal family. It was what was expected, although it was far from it. You berated yourself in your thoughts for being so open with someone you had just met. But it was the charm of the northerners, seeming good people.

“Tell your Uncle Daeron to call me, when you see him. Tell him that this old wolf has business to discuss with him” He ask you, again with a charming smile and you blushed, as if you had realized at that moment that he was quite an attractive man.

"I'll tell him" you said with a smile, as if you could really talk to your little uncle as much as Cregan must have thought "But, I don't think you're old" you smirked and realized that you were flirting with him, with a man who could be your father and he seemed to notice. He just smiled and looked down at his hands. You had changed. Since last summer you had, since the summer Aemond had abandoned you… you were no longer a little girl. You were a woman, quite attractive, with eyes that many would envy. Your body had taken more curvaceous shapes and you found yourself on many occasions filtering with men older than you. It was… it was just subconsciously, but… but you felt that you were destined to be quite an attractive and powerful woman. Your father's eyes allowed you to achieve it. Only at that moment, did you realize that you weren't a girl anymore.

"Well... I have a son about your age, you know?" He smiled back at you, this time more shy, as if you had some kind of effect on him that you were unaware of until that moment. The truth is that Cregan didn't interest you in the slightest, but you felt powerful seeing him like this... you sighed, turning your gaze to the front, turning your eyelashes in an interesting way, with a flirtatious smile on your lips... If only, he would had been the one in who you were interested... you laughed quietly. In that of conquering, you were a total Targaryen…

"Do you want me to join you tonight? To the dinner, I mean" Alys smoothed her skirt as she looked around the office for her panties. As a form of relief, they just had a quick shag. He was always stressed before you came to spend the summer in the capital.

"Of course not" Aemond buckled up. He plopped down on his office chair. “If you come with me today, things will only get worse. I assure". He picked up a cigarette and used his Zippo to light it. Finally, Alys found her panties and put them on as if nothing had happened. She approached his desk table, swaggering. Alys might be ten years older than him, but she knew how to move. No one could deny that. She leaned against the table, her cleavage meeting Aemond's gaze.

"Yeah… She was so… upset on her last birthday when she saw me with you" she laughed flirtatiously "She's so cute when she's jealous" she smiled sensually. Aemond only snorted at her words.

"She's a girl and she's my niece" he answered, disturbed. He took another puff and blew the smoke out his nose. He didn't look away as he leaned into his chair. He challenged her to keep talking. But, Alys had no way of stopping when an idea was inside her head. Perhaps, that was the reason why they were just friends with benefits. She didn't know when to stop her mouth.

“When she looks at you, her eyes light up. Didn't you notice that? Maybe, she may just be a little innocent girl. She may be your beloved niece" she pouted trying to imitate a young girl "But she really wants to sleep with you, Aemond. And sometimes I think you want the same thing,” Alys snorted. Aemond just smiled at his secretary.

"I think the only jealous one here is you, Alys" he responded to her provocations. She laughed mischievously.

“Aemond, on her last birthday you gave her a red lipstick. It was one of your gifts. A good one, very expensive ” she smiled like the devil again“ And the following week you asked me to paint my lips the same color to suck your cock, exactly the same color ”

"Pure coincidence," he continued, stoically. Her big mouth spoiled the fun and relief that her pussy gave him. His phone began to vibrate. He glanced quickly at the screen and his good eye narrowed in annoyance. He had said that he had to work that Saturday morning, and not to be disturbed. He needed to get away from you. It was the best because what he had felt in his pants when he saw you last year again... it wasn't ethical... nor moral...

"Who is now?" Alys replied, crossing her arms in front of him, also annoyed by the interruption. She liked to tease Aemond. It really was one of the games that excited her the most. Aemond did not answer her. He just picked up the phone and spoke in a firm voice after taking a drag on his cigarette.

"Mother" Aemond greeted her on the other end of the line and smiled silently as he watched Alys turn with feigned annoyance and leave his office, closing the door behind her. "How are you?" he asked as if he hadn't heard from her in months, and he had just seen her that morning, but it was pure courtesy. He knew that if his mother called him, it was to send him some task that the rest of his brothers did not want to do.

"You have to go to the airport to pick up (Y/N)" Alicent told him, without hesitation, as if it were an order. It really was. But, if there was one thing Aemond hated, it was being ordered around. So, he just took another drag on his cigarette and he tried to sound persuasive.

"Can't her father go?" he answered her. After all, Aegon was your father, and Aemond had been responsible for you for a long time. He tried to convince himself that this change in attitude was due to being fed up with taking over the responsibilities of his older brother, but it really wasn't like that. Something much darker was happening to him with you than he refused to admit.

"Aemond" he heard his mother blurt out desperately, as if he was the last one she had asked. It was. Aemond was the last one she had turned to, and she was scolding him for something the others had also refused to do.

“Send Cole, with the black Mercedes. Surely (Y/N) loves it” he answered, knowing that you wouldn't be excited, but he couldn't seem to be able to spend some time alone with you like before... he preferred you to be treated as someone from outside the family. Maybe that's how he could manage to hide what he felt...

"I need that girl to feel like one of the family." After a moment in silence, Alicent spoke. Aegon and Aemond were so alike to her at times, she didn't know what to do. That proposition was proof of that. They had both suggested the same thing, and Alicent kept wondering why.

“I think you're late, mother. (Y/N) is a Dayne, like her mother” he leaned back in his chair in a cocky attitude. He didn't want to argue with his mother, he didn't want to threaten her, but your presence made him feel too many things that weren't right for a man as strict and upright as him. "If she were a Targaryen, she'd be completely different," he said, but then a thought crossed his mind: If you were a Dayne, why did his blood boil every time he saw you with that dark desire of his house? He sighed, you were out of his reach and he couldn't seem to control himself to show you…your place…on a simple car trip alone…he shook his head. He had to be himself again. Not a character from his house from 500 years ago.

"Whether you like it or not, that girl is a Targaryen... one of us..." Alicent replied tiredly. Aemond knew from the tone his mother was using, the conversation was ending, and he was not going to miss the opportunity to feel powerful.

“Send Cole. If she's one of us, she'll love it” he tried to smile and sound arrogant, a sneer on his lips. What was happening to him with you? He needed to be like that so he wouldn't let himself be consumed by what he felt. It had already happened to him last summer when he went looking for you after Aegon forgot. When he saw you... when he saw you, he would have shown you why they called you dragons... he was still thinking about that top that showed too much and those shorts that were too short for a girl who wasn't looking for provoking him... you had looked for him... Yes, you were a damn Dornishwoman... a girl of Starfall... and now, when he saw you, he was feeling like a dragon ready to destroy everything for... a simple moment between your legs... he took another puff and expelled the smoke through his nose... he felt like a monster because of you, and he hated himself even more for blaming you for what happened to him every time he saw you. He collected himself. He was Aemond Targaryen. The CEO of Targaryen Industries. He could spend a summer ignoring you. He had already done it in the past. It wasn't hard. “For tonight's all-family dinner, I'll be late. I have a lot of work,” he lied and Alicent didn't even speak. She just sighed tiredly, without wanting to say much more to her son.

"As you wish" Alicent replied reluctantly. Then it would be Cole coming after you. Alicent closed her eyes wearily. From the day you were born, you had become yet another headache for that highly functional family.

You took your suitcase from the belt that carried it. You took the House of Dayne bracelet that you always put on the handle to drag it and that allowed you to differentiate it from the others. You could wear another cloth bracelet, one with dragons on it, but by the age of 10 you had begun to realize that you were a Dornish girl, with all that that entailed. You were not a dragon. No one in your father's house had treated you like one of the others, except your Aunt Helaena and your Uncle Aemond. And the last one had completely ignored you last year and you didn't even want to understand why. Your grandmother Alicent had tried to make you feel like one of them in every way, but she, like you, wasn't a dragon, so she didn't count. You remembered smiling to yourself that summer that you had dyed your hair silver before going to spend the summer with your father. You wanted to be one of them... and, even though no one had asked whose daughter you were, you had gotten bored and finally let it go... you planned to change your last name before starting university. You would tell your father at the end of that summer… after all, that was the last summer your parents' joint custody ended. Afterwards, you wouldn't have to go back to that house if you didn't want to. You dragged the suitcase to the exit, along with the shoulder bag that always accompanied you and on which you had put a patch with the heraldry of your mother's house two years ago. Aemond had laughed when he had seen you like this. You were then sixteen years old. When you did, your uncle had marveled at that brazen act of rebellion as soon as you walked through the door of their family home in downtown King's Landing. He had laughed until you followed his laugh and hugged him in greeting. Those had been good times. In which he still had time for you. Your father had silently scrutinized you without saying much and your aunt Helaena had tried to reason with you why you should carry the Targaryen dragon as well. Finally, it had been Aemond who had convinced you to sew both, just as he had done with the heraldry of his parents when he had been your age on his also favorite backpack. You had glued it together one summer night, late at dawn... you had blushed when you felt it throw your arm over it on that terrace that overlooked the wide patio of the family residence once you had finished... and, then, you had realized that your uncle... he... was what you were looking for in a man... that you would have done anything for him to kiss you... and after that night in king's landing you returned to Starfall with both shields. Your maternal grandfather had frowned upon seeing you, reminding you that at the end of the day they were the ones who stayed by your side, but you left the Targaryen emblem that year because at least there was one who cared... who loved you... who esteemed you...

After how Aemond had ignored you last summer, you had ripped it off when you returned to Starfall, and now you only carried the heraldry of your maternal house, much to the delight of your maternal grandfather, who sometimes you felt was using you as a thrown weapon against the house of the dragon, but you couldn't blame him. You knew little of your parents' breakup, but your mother hadn't had a good time. You understood your grandfather's sentiment to protect your mother at all costs, even if it meant throwing yourself against the dragons. Your mother's family viewed you as a dragon, your father's family as a Dayne. The feeling of not belonging was the only thing you'd grown up with, but, you were a Dayne, of Starfall. Yes, you convinced yourself. That's what you were.

You saw Cregan in a fleeting moment, and he came up to you. You two had spent the whole flight talking, and the truth was that you had also been flirtatious throughout the trip. “Do you need me to help you call a taxi or…?” he told you with kindness and that closed northern accent, smiling at you. He was trying to be polite to the daughter of an old acquaintance, even though you felt there was something else to it, too, after spending the entire flight laughing with you and your coquettish manners.

"No, I think they're coming for me" you shrugged with a charming smile and he was entranced looking at you. You had seen on the plane that he had a wedding ring mark on his finger, so he must have recently divorced...

"Oh, well" he told you delaying his departure, although it was obvious that a very expensive car was waiting for him at the door. He quickly opened his wallet and took out a business card on which he scribbled something on the back with the pen he carried in his pocket. "My card, in case your uncle Daeron doesn't have my phone" he said offering it to you and you took it with a polite smile, to finish putting it in one of the pockets of the shoulder bag.

"I'll give it to him" you answered with a smile, polite and correct.

“The truth is… that behind I have written my personal cell phone. I'm going to be in King's Landing on business until the end of next month” he smiled charmingly at you. You blushed and looked away with a smile "If you ever want to have a coffee... or go to dinner..." he suggested with a mischievous half smile and you laughed charmingly. You weren't interested in the slightest, but you found it irresistible to start having that power over men.

"I will take that fully into account" you answered, superficial and attractive, as if that helped you to appease the pain you felt for Aemond not being interested in that way by you...

"Miss (Y/N)" Cole interrupted the conversation, correctly and perfectly. His hair is always well combed and with a sober face behind his sunglasses. Your grandmother's favorite bodyguard... so, yes, in the end he had come to pick you up, but it hadn't been anyone from the family. Cole was her most trusted worker, but he wasn't your father, he wasn't your aunt Helaena, he wasn't Daeron either… let alone Aemond. Cregan said goodbye quickly giving you two kisses, indicating that he hoped to see you throughout that summer, and you went to Cole. "Her suitcase of hers, miss (Y / N)" he told him as he reached to pick it up.

"No, do not worry. I can" you replied, holding on to the handle, but he kept insisting.

“It wasn't a question, miss (Y/N). Your grandmother would kill me if she finds out that I let you carry it, it's my job" he replied carrying the suitcase himself while you followed him to that luxurious and expensive car, parked at the airport door, because your father's family could allowed to park where they wanted. No one was ever going to say anything against the owners of Targaryen Industries. While Cole put the suitcase in the trunk, you took your mobile phone from the pocket of those very short pants and turned it on. A couple of messages from friends, another from your mother asking you to let her know when you'll arrive… and another from your grandmother Alicent indicating that Cole would come for you, since the others were very busy with company matters. You sighed, did it matter how little you meant to them? That was going to be your last summer there, it was starting to become clear to you. Cole slammed the trunk shut and opened the rear seat door for you to sit there. Your mouth was about to open to ask him to go in the passenger seat, but you knew it was stupid. Cole must have been the person who took his job in the world the most seriously. You just walked in, sat in that leather upholstered car and sighed as the bodyguard took his seat and started the car engine. You were looking at your phone while the car was moving slowly when Cole broke the silence again.

“How have you been doing this last year of high school?” he asked, taking a quick glance in the rearview mirror, trying to make conversation. "Your uncle Aemond told me that you are an exceptional student." Aemond had said that…? Well, you weren't bad at studying, but to be exceptional was to have the grades he would have had in high school. He compared you to him, he always had and that's why you guys had such a good rapport until last summer. Even that year he hadn't even written to you once, when before he had done it almost daily. Distance. That was what you thought he was marking, distance. But he kept showing off about you, or at least that was what you had intuited from Cole's words.

"Fine, normal. I passed everything. Now I´m thinking that's what I'll do with my life next year” you joked, and Cole flashed what must have been a smile on such a serious face.

"I thought you had been admitted to the King's Landing Business School, that you were going to follow in your father's footsteps," he told you, his attention fixed on the road. You laughed sweetly.

"The company would end up sinking if I got to be in charge" you continued laughing and Cole looked at you in the rearview mirror again, this time with concern, as if he hadn't expected your answer.

"Well, you're a Targaryen, your place is in the family business, like your father's and your uncles'," he said with concern, as if he didn't understand that you couldn't feel like one of them, as if your place really… were there. No. You didn't belong to the Targaryens…if not…one of them would have come looking for you instead of sending Cole.

You both continued in silence. You answering messages on your phone and Cole driving. Did anyone from your paternal family really expect you to follow in their footsteps? Perhaps it was what might have been expected in another situation, but not at a time like this. You were not your father's daughter. Helaena and Daeron always tended to forget your birthday and… Aemond had decided to ignore you forever… What was expected of you? They couldn't demand anything of you. They couldn't because you weren't one of them. Those pretty eyes. Those eyes so pretty, that now they looked so sad, was all you had of them. You suppressed the urge to cry as Cole continued to drive. You were nothing to your father, nor to your uncles, but what hurt you the most was to be nothing to… Aemond.

[lol-im-done]

Love in the Kingswood | Harwin Strong X Reader

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2489

Synopsis: Princess Rhaenyra's Lady in Waiting, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, slays a boar to protect her cousin, upon her return to the royal camp she realizes she's caught the attention of Ser Harwin Strong, and as they go on their own hunt they fall in love.

Author's Note: Feedback and comments are always appreciated! Also any ideas for other one shots so I can be inspired to write more :). Can be found on A03 as well.

Never had you been so happy to see a forest as you were when you arrived at the Kingswood. After hours of awkward small talk, glares from Alicent and the uncomfortable bumpy carriage ride you were more than ready to disembark. As Lady in Waiting to Princess Rhaenyra you were a constant companion at her side and as a distant cousin you were welcomed into the inner circle of the Royal Family. King Viserys had recognized Rhaenyra’s increasing isolation after Queen Aemma’s death so he reached out to your father Lord Vaelor who quickly dispatched you to King’s Landing. It was daunting at first but you became fast friends with Rhaenyra, a comforting and supporting presence for her. As the royal carriage slowed you could hear the cheers for the babe Aegon outside, Rhaenyra already withdrawing into herself. 

“Are you ready?” you asked softly, grasping her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. After a few seconds she gave you a brave smile and nod before stepping off with you at her side. 

The encampment was enormous with various tents and booths for Aegon’s name day celebration. Soon you found yourself in the main royal tent and after a quick conversation with King Viserys who doted on you as if his own daughter, you went on your rounds but kept a watchful eye on Rhaenyra. The King never explicitly stated you were to mind her but it became evident you were also responsible for keeping her in line, as spirited as she was. As you exchanged words with Larys Strong, you could see Rhaenyra speaking with her father, both voices increasing in tandem with their agitation. As their argument came to a crest, gathering the attention of the court, Rhaenyra stormed off. 

“Pardon me, Larys I must go!”

Larys, understanding your role, nodded and stepped aside as you tried your best not to run in the tent, trying to make it through the maze of people. Once you were at the exit you broke into a sprint at the same time someone was walking in. 

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry!” you apologized, not even recognizing the tall man you had bumped into. Ser Harwin Strong had seen you at court, a quiet shadow to the fiery Princess Rhaenyra, and had only formally met you when King Viserys had introduced you to the court. Watching you run after her he couldn’t help a small smile, he found your panicked state quite adorable. As he watched you go after Rhaenyra, his brother inched closer to him. 

“Lady Vaelor is most kind, I’m sure she did not mean to leave in such a haste,” Larys noted. 

“Do you spend time with her often?” Harwin turned to his brother. “We sometimes cross paths in the library and will have tea with others from court in the Godswood,” Larys replied. 

“Do I sense romance?” Harwin teased but Larys rolled his eyes. “No. But from the way you constantly ask after her and the way you stared at her bottom as she walked past I’d say you had that notion in your own head,” Larys replied coolly. Harwin let out a bark of laughter, slapping his brother on the arm before continuing into the tent, the feeling of your body pressing against his, still on his mind. 

“Rhaenyra wait!” you cried, lifting the bottom of your skirt as you tried to keep up with her long strides but she was soon galloping off into the forest. 

“Ser Criston-,” you called out and you didn’t need to finish as he helped you up on your horse before mourning his own. Without wasting another minute your steeds were off, racing to follow Rhaenyra. You loved your cousin dearly, would defend her to the very end but sometimes you swore she was trying to give you gray hairs. Thankfully you were a skilled rider and even in your dress you quickly caught up with her. Criston grabbed the reins of her horse and she scowled as she was stopped. 

“Gods above Rhaenyra give me warning next time you decide to run off,” you shook your head, patting the neck of your horse to calm it down. 

“I just couldn’t stand it one more minute! I don’t want to marry,” she pouted, silver strands whirling around her face. Criston looked over to you and you both exchanged a serious look, shaking your head in disappointment but the air of seriousness broke as Rhaenyra smirked, making the forest come alive with your trio’s laughter. 

Rhaenyra insisted on walking back but you were nowhere close to the camp by the time the sun had set. Thankfully your horses had food and water and a light blanket strapped to them so you assisted Criston in making the fire as Rhaenyra set up for the night. 

“Do you think the realm would ever accept me as Queen?” Rhaenyra broke the calm silence as you all ate the bread and meat from your packs. 

“The lords bent the knee to you Princess,” Criston replied but she didn’t seem satisfied by that answer. 

“I think that you will be a great Queen. The realm never had a chance to be reigned by a Queen before. They may be uncomfortable at first but once you prove yourself to them they will love you as I do cousin,” you said making her grin. Before she could reply there was a rustle in the distance and the horses began to whine. Criston was up and peering into the darkness, sword at the ready for whatever it could be. From the corner of your eye you saw Rhaenyra bring out her glinting dagger and you cursed yourself for being unprepared. Suddenly you and Rhaenyra screamed as a large boar burst through the bushes and rammed into Criston sending him flying to the side. It barreled straight towards Rhaenyra, jumping on top of her as she let out another scream. The urge to defend and protect surged through you as you grabbed her dagger from the ground. With a cry you plunged it into the boar’s back with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed everywhere, hot and sticky, and the squeals of the boar filled the air. Criston pulled Rhaenyra out from under the boar as you continued to stab it, not stopping until it went completely still. The dagger fell from your hands, and you looked down, eyes widening in realization. Blood poured down your face and neck and the light purple fabric of your dress turned maroon. 

“Fuck,” you hung your head. 

“Fuck indeed,” Rhaenyra whispered, as she held onto Criston tightly. 

“Cheers to Lady Vaelor, Slayer of Boars,” Criston breathed out before you fell over in exhaustion. 

The following morning your trio finally made it back to the royal camp, exhausted, dirty and in need of a bath. The only upside was your kill which was being dragged by Criston’s horse. It soon became clear to everyone who had killed the boar. Climbing off your horse you tried to keep your composure as dozens of eyes watched you. Thank the gods your mother was not here or she would have dragged you off by your ear. Judgment and shock were evident on everyone’s faces as you walked alongside Rhaenyra. She had some blood splattered on her boots but you were drenched. It must have been quite the sight, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, Princess Rhaenyra’s Lady in Waiting covered in the blood of the boar she had slain. What caught you by surprise was that in the sea of judgmental gazes there was a man, smiling. He was grinning as he peeled the skin off a rabbit, eyes roaming over you in a way that sent a delightful shiver over your body. Then you quickly realized who it was- Ser Harwin Strong. Thankfully the blush that spread across your cheeks was hidden by the blood. You were acquaintances with his brother Larys but had never gotten the chance to spend time with the man they called Breakbones. There he was eyeing you with a mixture of awe and something else, a sort of hunger. Breaking away from his gaze you followed Rhaenyra to your personal tent for a long awaited bath. 

Later that evening you mustered the courage to come out of your tent and eat dinner. King Viserys had publicly thanked you for the boar, which was cooked for tonight. Not used to all of this attention you kept to the edge of the feast, picking at your meal. A shadow passed over you and when you looked up, your heart began to beat as fast as a hummingbirds. 

“Ser Harwin,” you curtsied, dress pooling around you, tongue grazing your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in it. 

“At ease Lady Vealor,” he replied seriously as if you were a fellow member of the Night’s Watch, making you giggle. “That was horrible, I apologize,” Harwin chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No, it was quite funny. How can I help Ser Harwin, if you are looking for the Princess-,” you began but he stepped closer to you, close enough that you needed to look up as he towered over you. “No, I was looking for you,” he said. Another blush spread across your cheeks and you found yourself at a loss for words. The most handsome man in Westeros (in your opinion because Rhaenyra would argue Daemon) was looking for you?!

“What do you say to going out on a small hunt of our own?” he asked hopefully. “I was impressed by your killing of the boar and I’ve heard you enjoy archery-,” he continued to ramble, as if afraid to hear rejection from you. 

“I’d love to.”

Harwin paused, eyes widening with happiness and he suppressed the urge to sweep you up in his arms at the moment. Gathering his composure he stepped back, “Tomorrow morning then, I shall arrive at your tent at sunrise, My Lady,” Harwin bowed his head. 

“See you then Ser Harwin,” you curtsied before dashing off to find Rhaenyra. 

Morning couldn’t come soon enough and when Harwin announced himself outside your tent you were ready, flinging the curtain open. Harwin forgot what he was going to say as he looked down at you as he gulped. Gone was the usual purple dress, today you looked like a huntress. Hair braided away from your face, leather trousers, your house sigil of two spears embroidered on your vest. 

“Good morning Ser Harwin, Princess Rhaenyra is spending the day with the King so it looks like I’m all yours today,” you greeted him with a shy smile. 

“I’ll take any time I get with you Lady (Y/N),” Harwin smiled back before offering you his arm. 

Your conversation had started light as you walked through camp, the usual pleasantries especially with so many ears around but as you made your way deeper into the forest you found yourself opening up more. Harwin was a great listener, nodding along to your stories and quite eager to learn more about you as he asked about your home, your life. It wasn’t long before you began to see evidence of rabbits in the area, Harwin insisting you take the lead on the hunt. 

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be out there hunting down deer and wolves Ser Harwin, instead of hunting little rabbits with a Lady,” you teased as you crouched down. Harwin crouched down beside you, angling his body closer to yours. 

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be at this moment,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. Turning to look at him, you were entranced by the depth of his eyes and you resisted the urge to run your hand through his mess of curls, turning back to the task at hand. Harwin watched as you brought out your bow, silently parting the bushes to get a clearer look at your target. 

Notching the arrow your eyes narrowed in concentration, as you prepared your kill. Slowly your breaths evened out and with a final exhale your arrow went flying before hitting the rabbit straight through the eye. 

“Damn!” Harwin cheered, squeezing your shoulder. Other men would have chastised you for your skill, or felt their manhood threatened but not Harwin. Ser Harwin Strong was not like other men, and you could already feel the stir of love in your chest. 

After a few hours you had amassed quite a few rabbits and hares, Harwin carrying them in a bag as you walked beside him. With every step your bodies inched closer, shoulders grazing one another’s. After a few more minutes you approached a small creek bed that led to the camp and before you could look for a log to cross over, Harwin offered you his hand. Thinking he would guide you through the small stream you took it, “Thank you Ser-,” you began but let out a squeak as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist and hoisted you up against his body. Instinctively you curled up against him, arms snaking around his neck as he walked you both through the water. He did not let you go however until you came closer to the camp, not at all tired. As he let you down you fought the urge to pout, not wanting to leave his comforting grasp. 

“I’ve had a wonderful time, truly,” you thanked him, looking up at Harwin. 

“Please just Harwin,” he said, hand reaching out to wipe dirt off your cheek gently. 

“Harwin,” you echoed. 

“Can I ask you something?” Harwin asked a bit nervously, and you nodded. “Why did you say yes to coming with me? I know my reputation-.”

“I said yes because you’re not like other men. You asked me to hunt with you, not to watch you hunt. Your brother Larys speaks nothing but good things about you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me Harwin,” you said sincerely. It was Harwin’s turn to blush and he looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. Leaning forward his hand came to cup your neck and for a moment you thought he was aiming for your lips but instead his lips pressed against your forehead in a sweet kiss, so delicate for someone nicknamed Breakbones. 

“I will always be kind to you (Y/N), I will be by your side if you let me,” Harwin whispered as he stared longingly into your eyes. 

“I want nothing more,” you whispered back before surging upwards to kiss him, not caring who saw. Little did you know your journey with him would not end there but your relationship would blossom and endure through a civil war of fire and blood. Ballads would be sung of his strength in battle and of yours in diplomacy and eventually dragon riding, and in the end your children would carry on the legacy of both your houses with pride and glory. 

[baronessvonglitter]

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 15 | "mutually assured destruction"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 5,707

Summary: A life-changing secret is unearthed, altering the directions of your life and Dave's.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, TW attempt at self-unaliving, angst, secrets revealed, gaslighting, talk of murder and paid assassination, obsessive!Dave, rough sex, hate sex, unprotected piv, revenge, if I missed anything please let me know!

Author's note: this turned into more than I initially thought, and took a lot out of me emotionally but I'm pleased with it and I hope you are too! Please do not read if you're not in a good headspace, there are very triggering scenarios in place for the sake of dramatic storytelling. For those battling real life demons, please click here for help 🫂

Series Masterlist

It's the day before you leave for London. A Friday.

Years from now you'll look back on this day and wonder how it started so normally, as if fate wasn't already hard at work against you.

You make breakfast for the family: pancakes, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs. The new au pair is coming on Monday and you want to do everything in your power to stay on the family's mind so that they'll want you back when you return from studying abroad, but in the back of your mind you know that won't be an issue.

Sneaking a glance at Dave at the table, you exchange a small, secret glance and a smile, but his eyes never leave you once you busy yourself with other tasks. You can feel his gaze on you, checking you out in your casual outfit of the day: jeans that show off your curves and a cropped long sleeve shirt that shows a sliver of midriff. You're going to miss choosing outfits that will keep you on his mind all day.

Later you get the girls bundled up for school, putting on their warm boots and winter coats. Alice has two different colored gloves on, Molly forgot her library book upstairs. Both girls want to wear their new scarves but they're fighting over the same one. You're already prepared, fixing the situations, showing Dave that you're maternal, giving him a glimpse of what your life together would look like.

You've already made plans to see each other over New Year's, see the sights together, make love in a different country. Honestly you don't think you'd be looking forward to London as much if there wasn't the promise of Dave joining you there, even if only for a little bit. You're learning to have your forever with him in a few stolen moments.

After running some last minute errands (Carol insisted that you spend this time on yourself and she could take care of anything extra) you have everything ready. You're packed, suitcases and passport on your bed.

Slipping into his home office, you dangle a thong around your finger, intending to leave it in his desk, a small memory of you, a promise of what's to come.

A drawer that's usually locked is left slightly open, teasing you, taunting you. You bite your lip. You've never been in Dave's office without him, and you recall what he'd told you:

"There are some other parts of my life, things I can't tell you yet. I know you'll understand when the time comes.."

You shake your head. It's just a drawer, you tell yourself. If Dave were here he'd call you a silly girl, then guide you away from his desk and press you to the wall, or the floor, or-

But you can't resist a peek.

And because of that your world changes.

The rest of your day is spent uncovering your lover's secrets, and the worst secret is saved for last.

In the back of the open drawer, tucked safely into a small black pouch: a class ring with your birthstone, and your gold baby bracelet, your name written in perfect cursive.

Dave returns after work, calling out to the house, knowing you're here somewhere because your car's here and Carol's isn't. It's too quiet. She probably has the girls with her.

"Sweetpea, you home?"

There's no answer, so he shrugs and heads to his office. intending on doing some work for awhile before bed. You'll show up eventually, looking for him, legs spread eagerly, mouth open voraciously, wearing some barely-there lingerie, tempting him while his family's out. He knows you by now, but that doesn't stop him from wanting you.

He knows something is wrong as soon as he sees his office door is cracked open. No one goes in there but him. He steps in to see his office has been searched. Papers are strewn on his desk, files scattered, drawers opened. He feels like he might have a heart attack.

There you are, in a chair in the corner of the room, watching him, waiting for him.

"You're a fucking murderer," you mutter in a half-sob, alerting him to your presence.

The moment those words leave your mouth you know it's a mistake. Dave approaches you, slowly and deliberately. You want to run for the door but you're not sure you can even move. Your heart feels like it will stop at any moment, if Dave doesn't stop it with his own hands.

In one swift movement he grabs you, forces you to the wall, his large hands pinning your shoulders. He's in a rage, seething with anger, hurt, and resentment. But he hides it well, towering over you. "What do you think you read, silly girl? You're not even completely sure what you saw," he motions behind him to his littered desk. "Do you want people to think you're crazy?"

The fear in your blood turns to outrage. You ignore his question and offer one of your own. "My father.. my own father?" Your voice wavers as you keep your cold gaze on him as you say your father's name for the first time in years. "Sound familiar? He should be. Five years ago you killed him."

There is the briefest flicker of surprise in Dave's eyes, soon replaced with approval, estimation even. "What makes you say that, sweetpea?" he asks, his voice honey-sweet.

Nausea threatens to make you keel over, but your righteous anger holds you through. "It was all over your fucking paperwork. And these," you say, opening your palm to show your jewelry he'd stolen that fateful night. He looks but makes no move to take them.

"For years the cops had us convinced it was a home invasion gone wrong.. but they were on your payroll, weren't they?"

"Where's your phone? Give it to me," he demands. When you don't oblige right away he grabs it from your back pocket, rifling through the photos section, checking to see what you've deleted, making sure you don't have anything incriminating waiting to be emailed.

So far he's in the clear and he tosses your phone to the chair.

"What are you going to do about it?" Dave asks, his voice low, cold, nearly a growl, and he looks at you as if you're a bug he's squashed under his shoe. "What are you going to do with the information you have? Because you can't tell anyone, do you understand that? Especially not the police. We both know they won't protect you." He soothes the effect of his words with a soft brush of his knuckles across your cheek. "If you try to spread this.. misinformation to anyone else, you'll disappear."

A shiver goes through you and you knock his hand away. "Why?? Why did you take him away from me? I needed him."

It's a new feeling for Dave. He's never had to deal with the fallout of his extracurricular activity.

"I was just doing my job," he answers, the catch-all phrase he never imagined he'd have to use. "But from everything you've told me about him, I rather think you'd be grateful to me, sweetpea."

You ignore this little quip, too angry to think of anything to say in this heated moment, when your brain is still swimming with mixed emotions. "He was just a name on your list? Is that what you're saying?" you ask coldly.

"Yes," he replies sharply. "He was not a person to me, okay? He was a target. He was a job."

His words are harsh, but they're the truth.

"Do you understand that? Do you understand now how I see people? How my world works? It's made up of people I am paid to kill. People who hire me to do the killing. People who betray others. It's not a game and it's certainly not personal." He takes a moment, looks squarely at you, measuring how you're taking this.

"Did you ever have any idea," you start slowly, "when you hired me to be your kids' nanny? Did you ever have any clue that I might have been his daughter? When you kissed me and fondled me and screwed me, did you ever wonder if maybe my last name was a coincidence?"

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty? If so, it's not working very well. I've learned how to separate myself from the job. Compartmentalization. It's the same thing I do when I'm fucking you and not thinking of my wife, or fucking my wife and not thinking of you. Do you understand that?"

Your hand flies across his face, landing a harsh slap, leaving a red mark that even you can feel the sting of.

His first instinct is anger, then there's a sudden flash of a smile across his face, lighting up his features as he soothes his cheek. "I have to admit, with that scrappy little attitude.. you're just like your father. Tenacious."

You're disgusted with yourself. You've given away your innocence to your father's murderer. You'd loved him and sinned with him, risking so much. You even wanted to marry him someday, in a stupid fantasy of yours that now just feels repugnant.

"Did he see you coming?" You whisper. "Or did you sneak up behind him like a coward when you killed him?"

Dave's smile fades. "I let him see me, and at that moment he knew he found his death," he recollects. "It's the most powerful feeling in the world.. watching the light fade in someone's eyes and knowing you're the cause of it. It's a little like playing god. It was no different with your father."

"And this information you have," he continues, "what exactly are you going to do with it? Because I refuse to have to kill you, sweetpea. It would hurt me too much to have to get rid of you for your curiosity. You opened up a Pandora's Box. Now what are you going to do with all the misery you've unleashed?"

You're calm. Your heartbeat is normal. Glancing out the window there's freshly fallen snow. Such a peaceful scene despite the awfulness playing out with you and the man you loved.

"Carol took the girls out to drive around and look at Christmas lights. They might be gone awhile."

You reach into your pocket and pull out a snub nose revolver, one you'd pilfered from Dave's desk earlier. You pull the hammer back and aim it at him. "I'm going to spare them having to hear their father die, a little gift I'm passing forward that you gave me years ago."

There's a flash of fear that flits across his face as you point the gun at him, which he quickly masks with cold indifference as he raises his hands in surrender, backing away slowly. "You had to have some idea.. all those nights waiting up for me, patching me up when I had a bloody lip or bruised knuckles? They're not always quick kills, sweetpea. Sometimes I have to use my fists."

You don't waver, still aiming the gun, the irony not lost on you that he'd been the one to teach you to shoot. The power you have over him right now is indescribable, with the agony of the revelation of Dave's shadow business lurking just beneath.

"You had to know," he repeats. "Yet you still decided to pursue me, to sleep with me, to fall in love with me." He stares you down as you continue to aim. "Now.. do you think you have it in you to kill me? Because revenge, my silly girl, is not really your style."

His words wound you. Yes, deep down you always knew. You just never put your father's death into the equation.

"You're right," you admit. "I'm not a killer like you. But I'm just as bad as you are."

Despair and guilt rack your body. There's no way out. You'd been prepared to shoot Dave, maybe even kill him as revenge for your dad, but in this moment you have a sudden change of heart.

"You don't have to worry about me telling anyone. I'll take it to my grave."

You aim the revolver at yourself, just under your chin, cold metal against soft, warm skin. "I still love you, Dave."

Click.

You open your eyes and fall to your knees, gasping as you drop the gun. It wasn't loaded. A blinding wave of relief and anguish courses through you as you begin to sob, your entire body shaking.

He walks to you, picking up the gun and opening the chamber. Empty. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to have a loaded gun in my own home, sweetpea? I have children, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, putting the gun away. "I thought you'd be more clever than that, especially after all I've taught you." He sighs, looking more disappointed than distressed over your attempt. While you're on the ground, hugging your knees to your chest, shivering, he quietly tidies up his desk, putting everything back where it belongs, all his secrets stored away. He locks the drawer with a definitive click.

"You do it," you weep as he kneels next to you, giving you a tissue. "You killed him, now kill me. It would be poetic." You meet his eyes, seeing nothing but coldness in them, knowing that was all there was this whole time. "There's nothing I want in this life anymore."

Dave hugs you, and despite the hatred you feel for him, despite the maelstrom of emotions you find yourself in, you cry on his shoulder as he kisses your hair.

When you've finally cried yourself out, he helps you to your feet. "I'm going to take you for a drive. We need to talk."

In your emotional state you go along with whatever he wants. You're like a zombie, your body functioning but your brain clouded with misery.

You both get in his car, but you don't bother to put your seat belt on.

"Do you trust me?" he asks as you head out on the road.

"That's a funny question," you say in monotone, turning your head to look at him. "I don't know if I do. I shouldn't."

"Here's the thing." He clears his throat, makes himself comfortable for the drive. "I think you do. I know you always have. You shouldn't but you did. You still do. You trusted me enough to be completely vulnerable before me. You trusted me when you slept with me, each and every time. You trusted me when you told me about your awful history with your father. Trust takes guts."

You groan as he speaks about your intimate times together, numerous times, scandalous situations. You'd given your body and your heart.. to a married man.. to your father's killer.

"That trust is gone," you tell him.

Dave sighs, continuing to drive. After almost forty-five minutes he pulls over to the side of the road. You're in the middle of nowhere, far from anyone or anything. He gets out and helps you out of the passenger seat. Taking a tentative look around you see barely lit forest on the roadside, lit by a scattered amount of street lights. The snow has stopped for now, and a chilling wind howls through the desolate night.

Together you walk into the darkness. You fully believe he's brought you here to kill you, to silence you from spilling his secrets. And you feel only the slightest anxiety at this thought.

He leads you up a small path, thick forest on either side of you. Eventually you arrive at the edge of a cliff. The wind roars in your ears.

"What are we doing here?" you shout. It's almost too dark to see him.

He removes his jacket and puts it on you, shivering in your same clothes from this morning, only a denim jacket over them. It's warm from his body heat and smells faintly of his cologne. "Tell me why we're out here," you insist.

Dave looks out over the cliff, seemingly lost in thought. You're not even sure he's heard your demand.

"Did you know your father well, sweetpea?" he finally asks. "Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

It's like a stab to the chest, feeling your dad's loss all over again. "I thought I knew him well enough.. I think he loved me in his own way."

"He was corrupt, sweetpea. He had dealings with men much worse than me, men who would've hurt you and your family if given half the chance. A rival gang paid us to take him out." Dave goes quiet, dipping into that memory, perhaps wishing he could reverse things so you wouldn't be here, in the cold, with him. "I'm not the monster that you think I am. I'm human just like you."

"No, you're not human. Taking lives for money makes you less than that." Tears sting at your eyes, the bitter wind making them cold on your cheeks. You saw how sweet Dave could be with his children, how he gave off the impression of a loving husband even though you knew that particular part wasn't true. He had hidden depths, just like your father. His love for you was conditional, just like your father's.

You need your heart to stay hardened against him.

"I loved my father,” you continue. "I saw bad in him, just as I told you. But that didn't mean I wanted him dead."

"We're all just animals," Dave insists. "And even animals kill each other."

"You're the only animal here, David." You remove his jacket from you, symbolizing how you're done with him, preferring the bitter cold to the warm lies he's trying to give you. He gives a surprised grunt as you shove the jacket against his chest. "I've seen enough and heard enough. I'm walking home."

"You asked if I recognized you the day you came to interview for the position.. truth is, I did."

You turn at his revelation, stopping in your tracks but coming no closer to him.

He continues, "My team and I searched room to room, pilfering a few valuables to make it look like a real break-in. The last bedroom at the end of the hall was cracked open, with a pink light spilling through. When I walked in I could still smell your perfume in the air, something sweet like the kind a girl your age would wear. The clothes you tried on and discarded were strewn on your floral bedspread."

Now he has your attention, now he has you rapt, and as he describes that night you recall your room in that house, the perfume and the bedspread he's mentioned.

"I looked around, took my time, even though I was supposed to be quick," Dave admits. "I looked at the photos you kept by your bedside, removed the silk scarf draped over your lamp - that's a fire hazard, you silly girl." He smirks at you a moment, something akin to mirth in his dark eyes. "I saw the awards on your dresser, the photographs.. a little girl in a ballerina costume, that same girl growing up, attending summer camp, learning archery, and becoming a young woman, attending homecoming dances and learning how to drive.. I saw a piece of your life, sweetpea. And I was entranced."

Your mouth has gone dry. You know every one of those photos, have them collected safely in an album in storage somewhere.

"I didn't know your name, but the moment you came through my door, almost a thousand miles from your home, I was in awe. It had to be fate. You'd come to me, and despite my initial misgivings about having you so close, the possibility of you knowing how we were tied together was so minimal yet held such huge risk. There were times when I was sure you'd call me out for it, maybe blackmail me, so I kept my distance at first. But you were so obvious, sweetpea. You wear your heart on your sleeve, do you know that? It's adorable, especially that look you're wearing now."

You back away, forcing your body to move.

"That beautiful young woman with the pink room and cotton candy perfume ended up finding me, choosing me. I think all this time she's been looking for a replacement for her dead daddy."

"Stop," you beg. It sounds loud in your ears but comes out quietly from your lips.

"I love you," he says in earnest. "I don't care if the world burns. Everything is just a distraction if I can't have you."

A deep breath. "You should have pushed me over that cliff when you had the chance."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he approaches you with a calm demeanor. "I know I threatened to kill you, but that was said in anger. Don't you know how much you mean to me? Frankly I'm hurt by the fact you're even thinking I'd harm you."

You look at him squarely. "Oh, you're hurt?? Why don't we make it even and I take your family away from you?"

"You wouldn't." He holds you in his grasp, looking down on you with a smug expression.

"It would make us even, Dave." With a dark look in your eyes you run your hands along his chest. "I always thought you appreciated symmetry."

His countenance warms, his embrace loosened by your coquetry. "It's fucked up, but I can't help wanting you one last time," he says.

"You're right. It's fucked up."

"Let me take you to that hotel you like so much," he insists. "A proper sendoff before you leave the country. Because nothing is going to stop us, right? We can get past this little obstacle. It's just a tiny hurdle in our relationship."

Your lips curve into a smile as your blood boils. "That expensive hotel we went to, our very first night together? I don't think that's quite the aesthetic we're going for. Take me to the cheapest fucking place that's closest to us."

The motel room is small, smells faintly of cigarette smoke and cleaning product. But it has a bed, and that's all that counts.

Dave starts to unbuckle his belt and you watch, leaning against the dresser. "Remember that first night, when I bled? You told me it was rare to happen in this day and age. But it makes sense now. You shed my father's blood when you murdered him, and you shed mine when you took my innocence."

He's naked, waiting for you to also take off your clothes. "Did you regret giving yourself to me?" He pauses. "Do you hate me?"

"I'm not going to tell you," you smirk without any levity. "Isn't it more exciting to sleep with someone when you don't know how they feel about you?" However, seeing him sans clothing, a near rarity in your relationship, does something to you. You're lucky to be female and hide your arousal for the most part. You back Dave to the bed, making sure he's watching as you take off your clothes too.

His eyes are glued to you, cock already hard at the sight of your nakedness. You press him down to the bed, straddling his lap as you take him into you. Even you can't hide your need for him, the gasp of surprise as he fills you up completely.

You use him, that's the best way to put it. You care little for his kiss or his touch. You're simply taking your pleasure from him, riding him hard, the way he likes it, holding him so close you nearly smother him.

Yes, you love him, but that love has been poisoned by the truth of what he's done. There's no love in your actions, but there are tears in your eyes as you ride him, as if you'd fuck him to death if you could.

He can feel your pain.. the pain of all those secrets revealed tonight, the pain of having to deal with a man like him. And he can feel your anger, because for you, right now, there is nothing but revenge.

You feel it as Dave make himself a blank slate to take the brute force that is the only thing you can offer in this moment, so that you can emotionally bleed out your suffering and anger onto him.

You're riding him hard, taking your pleasure in a vicious way. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," you moan.

It's a sound of desperation and release, and in a strange way it makes him want you even more. For you, this is revenge, but for him it's pleasure. He grabs you by the waist as you move on top of him, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks that will be hard to explain later on. Your first instinct is to brush his hands off you, but you're so close to coming, and in that moment you don't care what Dave has done, or who he will hurt in the future. You just need him, and your heart allows a little bit of his love to pierce your armor.

With his hands on your waist, he pushes up and rolls you over. You move with him, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, inflicting more violence in your lovemaking because now.. everything is different. On top, looking you in the eyes.. You might hate him, but right now he doesn't care.

"There it is, there's that anger," he mutters. "Just let it all out, sweetpea. I know what you're feeling right now. I know exactly who I am and what I can be." He takes charge again, showing you that you're not the only one with anger inside of you. He enjoys the violence you're bringing to the bed, the violence that he deserves.

It's as if you're ready for his aggression, happy that he's fighting back. You're turning that pain to pleasure because otherwise the pain will disintegrate you.

You're still cursing him: "Bastard!" "Son of a bitch!" Meanwhile your body holds his close, accepting every forceful movement.

His eyes remain locked on yours the entire time. He doesn't let you escape his gaze. He wants you to see him, because now you can't hate him without hating yourself.

He's hurting you and you're enjoying it, just as it's always been. He kisses you forcefully, moving against you, as if you can't wait for the other to break.

Your bodies crash together savagely, both of you trading your pain and anguish. You dig your fingernails down his back once more as the first sweet, fluttery feelings give way to a strong, hedonistic wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you. There's no holding back or hiding from it. All you can do is burn within it, let your climax conquer your senses as your cunt grips him more tightly than ever before.

Dave's eyes go wide and he lets out a small groan. He feels your grief and anger, and he loves it. He holds you close as you come together, holding you close as if he never wants to let go. You feel complete when he comes, the way he pushes deep and hard against you, as if imprinting himself in you.

Afterwards, you just want to sleep. All your emotions have come to a head and you're weak from feeling them. You feel like a shell of a person.

Still, he doesn't let you go. He lays on top of you, breathing hard, sweaty from the physical exertion, trying to catch his breath.

He knows that once this night is over he'll go back to being a monster, and you'll always be the girl he betrayed in the worst way.

In this small moment you remain connected, feeling Dave's body against yours as you have so many times before. The ghost of a smile graces your lips as you look at him above you, brushing a small, sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead.

He looks down at you, filled with mixed emotions. He doesn't want to move, but he knows he has to. He climbs off you and lays next to you, watching you. The red motel sign glows into the window of your room, lighting the bed, covering your bodies in a warm scarlet glow.

"What were my father's last words?" you ask in the quietude of the moment.

"He asked for mercy," Dave answers. "He said he had a daughter who needed him. And that if I let him live, he would never cause trouble again."

You try to calm your breathing. "And then what did you do?"

A pause. "I shot him in the head." His voice is like a stone.

You look at him, this man you loved without shame, without guilt. "And how much money did you receive for killing him? What was his life worth?"

"Fifty thousand dollars."

You close your eyes. "Thank you for your honesty."

He doesn't know how to respond. He wants to defend himself, he wants to apologize, he wants to ask your forgiveness. But all he can say is: "I love you."

You turn to him in the half-darkness of the seedy motel room. "I know."

It's early when you wake, body sore, heart broken. You shower, washing away Dave's scent, his sweat, his seed, but somehow he's still under your skin.

He's fast asleep and you don't wake him.

Quietly you order a ride share service to pick you up. There's still work to do.

The next stop is the York household. The girls are still asleep this Saturday morning. Carol's home. For the last time you use your house key.

It's warm and quiet as you walk down the hallway, trying not to make too much noise. You pass by the collage of family pictures bedecking the walls: Carol and Dave on their honeymoon in Paris the girls' baby pictures, piano recitals, family vacations to Disneyland and the Grand Canyon, pictures of the life you wanted but never got.

Carol's at the table drinking coffee. "Good morning," she says brightly. "Aren't you going to miss your flight?"

"I have time." You smile back but it doesn't reach your eyes. "We need to talk."

"Sure," she says agreeably, checking her phone before putting it down, likely waiting to hear back from her husband, who hasn't come home all night.

There were times when you avoided the truth because it would get you into trouble, but now you just want the truth to set you free. "There's something you should know about your husband."

Carol's eyes are wide, already imagining the worst. Trouble at work? Gambling debts? Did he force himself on you? "What is it?" she asks softly as her nerves jangle.

You take a quick look around at the place you've called home for awhile now. When your gaze lands back on Carol's, it's impossible to keep a smirk off your face.

"Dave and I have been having an affair. We've been sleeping together for the past few months."

There's a blankness in Carol's eyes, as if she's processing the information but it's not sticking. What you've said is so sudden that she can't fully believe it yet. "You're kidding," she whispers. "You're just kidding.. right?"

You shake your head. "No.. I can tell you about the birthmark on his upper right thigh, his bondage kink, and he makes this cute little sound right before he cums, like a tiny squeak or whimper."

You feel powerful telling Carol this. "We've fucked in almost every room in this house, including your bed, just last week."

Carol's body goes limp as she assaulted by the onslaught you've unleashed. The words are too much to bear. "You're lying.."

To add insult to injury you continue: "And it's not just about sex. He loves me."

You reach into your purse and pull out your phone, pressing a few buttons and sending Carol an email. "Here's further proof. You can watch it if you want, or don't. I don't care. The tape was my idea, and Dave was more than happy to oblige."

With shaky hands Carol opens the email on her phone, clicks on the video attachment.

What she sees breaks her heart like nothing ever has before. It's not just her husband cheating on her, it's the two of you sharing intimacy, bodies locked together in a passion she had no idea you'd felt for each other.

Now she knows you're not lying, and she can't bear the thought of all the love she's given Dave being betrayed like this. She looks at you with tears in her eyes, her body shaking as she tries to pull herself together. She refuses to be the weak wife who bawls over her husband's misconduct, who eats her own bitter, broken heart in front of the godforsaken Other Woman.

"Why?" she simply asks.

"Why?" you repeat. "Because sometimes, Carol, people come into our lives just to ruin it, to change it irreparably." In saying that, you're thinking of your father, a bullet through his brain, Dave on the other side, holding the smoking gun.

Upstairs you grab your luggage, coming down to see that Carol is still crying, still watching the video, the sounds of your wicked moans and Dave's sultry praise audible through her phone.

"A word to the wise," you leave her with parting words. "I'm not the first one Dave's cheated on you with. Odds are I won't be the last."

You leave your house key on the table in the front hall. On your way outside in the crisp morning air you feel inexplicably lighter. Grabbing your phone you text Dave one last time:

Mutally assured destruction 🖤

Getting back into your Lyft you glance back at the house and see the girls there, Alice and Molly, their faces pressed to the window like car window cling toys. You don't wave to them, even when they're trying to get your attention. You can't save them anymore than they can save you.

He destroyed your family, and now you're returning the favor.

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

dividers by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

taglist: @untamedheart81 @guelyury @auteurdelabre @darkheartgatita (if I have forgotten anyone, or for a request to be tagged in future chapters, please inbox me)

[panlight]

not sure if you’ve touched on this before hint i’ve been curious lately: does edward actually like alice and bella or does he just appreciate their gifts? i’m not quite sure how to explain it but the more i think about it, the less alice seems like the kind of person edward would like. she seems to be more self-interested and cunning than the saint-like characters edward typically reveres. i’ve been wondering if their bond is less about a genuine like for each other and more about an understanding of each other's gifts.

i know edward's attraction to bella as a person vs her silent mind has been discussed before. do you think edward would've fallen for bella if she were more like characters like rosalie and jessica? for instance, assuming her mind were still closed off to him, would edward still have found bella fascinating if he perceived her to be vain and materialistic?

This is part of why I'm less interested in the gifts stuff that a lot of other people. I think it does muddy the waters with things like this. Like, are Edward and Alice actually compatible as siblings/friends or is it just like "you're the only one who understands because our author gave us these specific gifts?" And at the end of the day maybe it doesn't super matter; they DO have those gifts and it DOES help them understand one another so what it would be like without them only really matters if you're writing some All Human AU that removes the supernatural. In their world, compatibility with gifts is a thing, and probably just as valid as other kinds of compatibility and sympathy.

It is interesting that Edward thinks Rose is selfish and vain but loves Alice, when you know if it were Rosalie spending all this money on clothes they only wear once and throwing parties he would see it as another sign of her poor moral character. But part of it may be that Alice and Edward are different enough that they don't annoy each other in the same way Rose and Edward do. Both of them are more melancholy, more negative, more judgmental. Alice is more fun and happy and extroverted so Edward probably doesn't see his own flaws in her the same way he does in Rose (although they can be similar, too, in their sort of manipulative "I know best" dealings).

With Bella I think the gifts thing is even more of a factor. I mean if he could hear Bella's thoughts he'd be getting a lot of "Edward is SO hot" because that's what her narration is in the book, and I don't know that he's find that any different than how Jessica or whoever thinks about him. But because he can't read her mind, he's able to project on her, and also interpret her choices and actions in flattering ways rather than negative ways as he does with most people. And like I get it. I certainly think things I wouldn't say or do. I'm very patient and helpful at my job at the library, for example, but in my head when I see certain people coming and asking for help I'm like "ugggggh not THIS person" and "why can't you do this yourself?!?!" so if Edward were reading my mind he might be like "oh she's not as nice as she seems, she's two-faced, what a scoundrel!" when it's really just . . . being human?

If Bella's behavior was more like Rose and Jessica but Edward couldn't read her mind, that would be interesting. I guess if she also still smelled delicious he might fall for her, and then make up flattering explanations or excuses for the behaviors he doesn't like in others. "She just moved here/she's lonely/she misses her mother/she will grow out of it/whatever" when he's not willing/able to extend that same grace to Jessica because he can read her mind and judges her on her thoughts.

And this isn't me badmouthing Edward; I'm sure it WOULD be genuinely hard NOT to judge people when you're hearing what they are thinking all the time. That's going to flavor your perceptions of people in a major way. But I do think it's not really a fair or accurate view of a person, because what we DO and SAY matters more than what we think. We can have bad thoughts and re-direct them. We can think something mean and choose not to say it. We can internally grumble but do the Right Thing anyway.

I also think having the first two people he spent any time with being the uncommonly "good" Carlisle (super compassion!) and Esme (unconditional love) probably didn't help Edward get a realistic picture of what most people's thoughts are like. Judging a teenager's developing brain against a centuries-old compassion-motivated vampire doctor isn't gonna be a fair comparison. "Carlisle would never think like that" sure but he's also been actively choosing to fight baser instincts for hundreds of years, and Jessica's a 17-year-old navigating social cliques and history exams. They are not the same.