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flowerandblood · 28 days

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The Price of Pride (9/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, kissing, mutual masturbation, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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"The day is beautiful." He whispered in her ear, placing a gentle, little kiss on her neck a moment later.

Her flesh was hot under his fingers, and he savoured the taste of her sweat on his lips – he sighed as he felt his hard manhood, already sore and all swollen with impatience, push hard against her buttocks.

She moaned quietly, tilting her head back, her mouth parted wide in a heavy breath, her hands clenched on his arm – his palm, sunk between her silky, smooth thighs was soaked from her wetness, her thirsty cunt pulsed greedily around nothing.

"– focus –" He commanded, feeling that her hips sought involuntary fulfilment, rolling back and forth in a joint rhythm with his long fingers.

The last few evenings had blended into one for him, turning later into nights full of her moans, the loud clicks of her moisture, her lips leaking with desire, her fingers clenched on his manhood.

Every time it came for him too naturally, too easily.

"– tubis – mmm – tubis issa gevie –" She mumbled, and he took his hand away, sighing heavily.

She squirmed, turning in his arms, looking up at him pleadingly, sitting down on top of him with her hands around his neck.

"– please –" She whispered, pressing her bare breasts against his tunic, combing her fingers through his long hair.

He didn't stop her when she pulled at the black ribbon at the back of his head, letting the front strands of his hair fall over his face.

"– right words, wrong order –" He said coolly, embracing her with one hand around her waist, the other clamping down on the plump skin of her bottom, the only part of her body hidden under the thin material of her nightgown, letting them rub against each other with the motions of their hips.

"– tubis gevie issa –" She breathed out, and after a moment his mouth was already on hers, hearing with relief that she had finally used the correct grammar and conjugation.

He thought with satisfaction that, indeed, she deserved a reward, as did he for being such a patient and good teacher, so he twisted himself along with her and threw himself onto the bed on which they had been sitting until now, pressing her body against the sheets.

They purred and panted loudly, letting their mouths devour each other in loud, sticky kisses full of their saliva and slick tongues, their hands wandering blindly over each other's bodies, wanting nothing more than to simply feel each other.

Something like a smile flashed across his face when he heard her nimble fingers undo the belt and buckles of his tunic, the motion of his arms helping her to pull it off him.

His hands followed her example, revealing her naked, graceful body, slipping her nightgown off her legs – he always stopped at that moment, at the sight of her exposed, bare flesh, her gaze full of joyful, hot anticipation, her glistening lips parted in a loud, deep breath.

She was always so eager, he thought with appreciation.

"– gevie –" He sighed, leaning lower to see that her teeth bit into her lower lip at that word, her thighs parted, allowing him to lie between them – his fingers untied the small knot binding the fabric of his breeches as his tongue ran from her stomach upwards, between her sweet breasts.

Beautiful.

Her fingers combed gently through his hair as his nose ran over to the side, with her quiet moan of pleasure closing his lips around her hard, puffy nipple. He murmured when, with her help, he managed to slide his breeches off his hips and raised himself up on his elbows, releasing her nipple with a quiet plop.

He pulled his linen shirt over his head feeling that his eye patch exposed his eye socket and scar – his heart pounded harder in panic, his lips parted in horror as he reached up and corrected it, but the damage was already done.

He saw in the shocked expression on her face that she had seen it.

"– daor –" She begged, propping herself up on her elbows, her eyebrows arched in pain at the sight of him trying to cover himself from her again. "– kostilus, lēkia – tubī daor –"

He looked at her with his mouth open in ragged breath, feeling that he had completely frozen, not knowing what to do, wanting it at the same time as being afraid.

Please, big brother.

Not today.

Looking at her flushed face, at her long eyelashes and sweet, full lips, he caught himself thinking that if he had pretended that she had always lived in the Red Keep, there would have been nothing inappropriate about their closeness, their caresses and the nights they spent together.

Her eyes, though darker and bigger, as much as her hair could be inherited from his mother after all, similarly soft and smooth, her gaze as warm and tender – her calmness and thoughtfulness was much like his father's, and only when he was by her side did he realize how much resentment lay within him that his King had devoted so little attention to his own son.

Their fictional relationship, created by him only to subdue her, was slowly becoming a truth of which he himself became a victim.

He swallowed hard as she raised herself up on her hands and sat in front of him, looking him straight in the eye, his lips pressed together into a thin line as her fingers rose to his face, slowly pulling his eye patch off his head.

He looked at her, feeling that his face was stony – he didn't want her to see anything that was happening inside his mind – he felt that she had no right to reject him, no right to mock him or laugh at him, no right to look at him with compassion, but he dreaded it anyway.

Humiliation.

She, however, seemed to sense his tension – as soon as she put his eye patch aside her hand lifted uncertainly back to his scarred cheek, and her fingertips ran over the pale, long line that adorned it, looking at him intrigued, her doe eyes large and warm, full of some kind of understanding.

"– kasta –" She whispered with a sweet, gentle smile devoid of anything but tenderness.

He felt a squeeze in his throat.

Blue.

His sapphire.

He sighed quietly as she threw her arms around his neck, as she moved closer and let his long, swollen erection push against her abdomen, her hard nipples pressed against the bare skin of his torso. Their fingers sank into each other's soft hair as they leaned towards each other, and their swollen lips met in a strangely quiet, uncertain, gentle kiss.

It was a sweet kiss, he thought, and each kiss that followed was just as lazy and soft – their lips clicked from their saliva each time they became one, her breath hot and full of desire.

As his hand slid down her waist, hers slid down his chest, seeking the same thing.

They sighed quietly and stopped, not pulling their mouths away from each other, simply breathing as their fingers found what they wanted – he closed his eyes as her smooth hand clenched gently on his thick, throbbing manhood, dripping with desire, while his hand slid between her thighs from the side of her buttocks, meeting her soaked, hot womanhood.

He pushed her onto the bed, holding her in his arms, and lay on his side with her, throwing her thigh over his waist – their bodies clung to each other in an embrace close and full of affection, their lips meeting in the need for intimacy and understanding.

Her dark, long curls were wonderfully soft and smooth under his fingers, his hands seeming to sink into her warm, bare skin, the scent of her sweat and oils filling his lungs like a morning breeze.

Her body was different from Madam's – her curves were more girlish, her breasts wonderfully plump and swollen, her hips soft and silken to the touch, her lips and womanhood just as moist and delicate, thirsty for his caresses.

He twisted and forced her to lie on her back, brushing her sweet lips with his, panting louder and louder as her smooth hand caressed his cock, all sore with desire.

The touch of her hand on this intimate part was never perverse and animalistic – no – she squeezed his hard length with slow, gentle strokes, turning a simple, primitive reflex into something almost tender, as if she thought his manhood was not something dirty, a source of sin and embarrassment, but something she respected.

It was only by being with her that he understood the difference between caressing and satisfying.

Madam was satisfying his needs.

His little sister was caressing his body, almost embarrassing him with how pleasurable it was.

He pulled away from her lips, thinking that although they were usually limited to touching each other with their hands, now, this night, when she finally saw all of him, he wanted to reward her for her devotion, for not asking questions, for not demanding, for not commanding, for letting him touch her every night even though he had no right to do so.

"– ah – what –" She muttered as he lifted himself up on his knees and gently took her thighs in his hands, shamelessly spreading them wider.

Her lips parted as he leaned over her, already knowing subconsciously what he was trying to do, her hips wanted to move back involuntarily, but he didn't let her, pushing her close again.

"– daor, hāedar – your brother longs to taste you –" He said and before any word left her throat, he leaned lower and let his face sink into her warm, leaking cunt – he heard her loud, surprised moan, her spine arching in ecstasy as his lips ran shyly over her soft folds.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, clasping her fingers in his white hair as the tip of his tongue began to fondle with her swollen slit, teasing it lazily, while his thumb found her little bud, trailing around it, making her hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing against his face.

He himself began to rock his hips, rubbing his painfully hard cock against the bed beneath him, trying to find any source for an escape from his tension, thinking only of how wonderful she tasted and looked – his lips and tongue swept over her thirsty cunt while his gaze was fixed on her face, her mouth wide open and her eyes closed, her cheeks red with exertion, glistening with sweat.

"– so needy – soaking wet for her big brother –" He hummed contentedly and felt her whole body tremble, her eyes opening, meeting his gaze – she started to pant, spreading her thighs wider, pressing his head closer, as if she wanted him to simply melt into one with her body – his short nails dug into the soft skin of her buttocks as she cried out loudly, throwing her head back, feeling his slick tongue suddenly burst deep inside her, mercilessly hitting the same wonderful spot within her again and again.

"– ah – mghmmm – f-fuck, gods –" She babbled, writhing before him in pleasure, surprisingly innocent and vulnerable now as he devoured her cunt like there was no tomorrow, feeling her sweet wetness melt on his tongue.

The tip of his nose along with his thumb traveled around her pearl, feeling her entire womanhood begin to pulsate, his tongue hitting her fleshy walls just above her opening, feeling the tiny bud that made her quiver with pleasure.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She panted as if she was pronouncing the words of a prayer.

A shudder shook them both as she came with a girlish cry of pleasure, rocking her hips so that they rubbed against his face, her fingers clenched in his hair as if she was never going to let him go again, her breath heavy and uneven, her thighs quivering all over in his hands.

"– please – please, no more –" She begged, trying to push him away as the last waves of pleasure surged through her body, while he continued to lick what was flowing out of her, teasing her over-sensitive, weeping cunt anew.

"– nothing can go to waste – it's all mine –" He cooed, and she sighed, giving in, trying to endure his treatments with quiet moans on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"– me too – I want – I want to kiss you there, lēkia – let me –" She mumbled, looking up at him with eyes hazy with disbelief at how pleasurable the experience was.

His cock pulsed painfully hard, leaving him with no resistance.

"– mmm – come here –" He exhaled, laying down beside her on his back, tossing his hair away so that it didn't bother him, thinking with shame that it was a feminine gesture, not a masculine one.

She, however, seemed not to mind, for the eagerness with which she shifted over to him and lay between his thighs amazed and embarrassed even him.

He sighed, tilting his head back, unable to get a word out when her hand gently grasped the base of his cock in her fingers, while her lips ran over the pink, fat head of it.

"– guide me –" She hummed sweetly, making the whole act seem absurdly innocent to him, despite the fact that his erection was so swollen that he felt like he was about to just reach his peak on her face.

There was something tempting about it, but he couldn't deny himself the warmth of her lips.

"– tease it –" He whispered, running his thumb over the tip of his cock, smooth and slick from his own wetness – he threw his head back and closed his eyes, surprised when she leaned in immediately, running her sticky, warm tongue over that part of him.

"– fuck –" He exhaled, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest – this time it was his hands that clenched in her hair, holding her close as her lips roamed and brushed over the tip of his erection, her palm squeezing its root.

This is too much, he thought with desperation, I'm about to come.

"– put it in – open your mouth –" He breathed out, forcing her head to lean lower and let him simply slide his erection deep into her lips – they both moaned loudly – she from exertion, feeling the head of his cock hit her throat, and he from pleasure, her palate warm and moist, safe, welcoming him home.

"– suck –" He commanded, panting and groaning loudly, with ruthless, sharp thrusts slamming deep into her throat, her squeal telling him that she was unable to keep up.

"– ah – breathe through your nose – mmm – just a moment longer – fuck, fuck, oh, gods, swallow, swallowswallowswallow –" He mumbled out and moaned like a little boy, throwing his head back when he felt his seed spilling over her tongue – he forced himself between convulsions of his body to look at her and saw her face red from exertion and tears, her closed eyes, the curls of her dark hair stuck to her sweaty face, the base of his throbbing erection in her hand, a trickle of his release dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"– gods, you look perfect like this –" He gasped, feeling completely relaxed, filled with nothing but relief and that wonderful, pulsing, tingling sensation that was spreading in final waves through his loins.

His fingers loosened their grip and she pulled away, sliding his half-soft length out of her mouth with its loud splat against his lower abdomen, gasping for air loudly, panting heavily, all drenched in tears.

"– māzigon kesīr, hāedar (come here, little sister) – māzigon kesīr (come here) –" He said, extending his hand to her, and she immediately fell into his arms, laying between his thighs, her womb and breasts pressed against his naked body, while her face, as usual, found refuge in the hollow of his neck.

"– gōntan nyke ōdrikagon ao, zaldrītsos? (did I hurt you, little dragon?) –" He asked softly, placing a warm, loud kiss on her forehead, wiping with his thumb the remains of his seed from the corner of her mouth, feeling her whole body tremble in his embrace.

She shook her head.

"– n-no – just – it was so much –" She mumbled, and he sighed in relief, running his fingers down her bare spine.

"– I know, sweet girl – you've satisfied me – now it's time to rest –" He said and leaned towards her face, allowing their lips to meet in the wettest, most tender, softest kiss he'd ever experienced in his life.

He thought it would have been every man's dream to be kissed like that by a woman as they spread out comfortably, his hand covering their naked bodies with thick furs, letting her lie on top of him as she had so far.

He knew he should send her away, he knew everyone was already gossiping about them spending nights together in his chamber, but he couldn't do it.

He could not, after what they had done, stay in the cold bed or condemn her to the same fate.

Each time, she would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

"– you fight better than ever, my Prince –" Criston Cole exhaled after another round of their sparring together. "– you're more focused and precise –"

He nodded, turning his face to the side, thinking with shame that it was because ever since she'd stayed in his bed, ever since he'd fallen asleep sunk into the warmth of her body, listening to her calm breathing, he'd experienced true rest at night and only been awakened by birdsong at dawn.

"– however, your mother is concerned about the nature of your relationship with your cousin –" Cole began uncertainly, but fell silent seeing the grimace of displeasure on his face.

He thought with frustration that the last thing he needed was lecturing.

"– if Queen Alicent wants to tell me something, she should do it in person –" He said coolly and nodded, taking the right position to attack, wanting to end the subject and move on to the next duel.

They both swung, and their blades collided in the air with a loud clink of steel.

"– your mother is worried about her future marriage – about her dignity –" Criston continued between blows, causing him to push against him with even more fury.

Her peaceful, sleeping face snuggled into his chest in the morning, her soft hand lying on his heart, the warmth and smell of her bare body, her sex, her hair, the sound of her calm breathing and birdsong outside the walls of the keep, his fingers running lazily down her spine, watching her with serenity.

I am her future, he thought furiously, but he didn't dare say it out loud.

They both stopped in mid-step when they heard the swish of an arrow, which, a moment later, hit straight on target – his cousin was standing on the other side of the courtyard, pointing her bow again towards the big straw shield, and once again she hit the centre.

After the incident with Floris, Aegon had assigned her a larger chamber and agreed that she could move around the fortress without guards, and he had not objected.

She spent most of her day in his company anyway: in his bed, in the heavens or, as now, practising at a similar time to him.

She never interrupted him or approached to speak to him, respecting his private space and the fact that he preferred what went on between them to stay behind the closed doors of his chamber.

However, this did not prevent him from admiring her graceful figure from afar and sinking into his own fantasies, from which his manhood swelled all over in his breeches.

"– my Prince – this is a dangerous game – the Queen and I just wish to spare you disappointment –" He said, and he only pressed his lips together without answering him.

He decided that it was beneath his dignity to discuss it with him.

"It occurs to me that Criston Cole has no love for me. I can see it in his look full of disapproval cast in my direction." She said lightly, massaging his back with her soft hands after their intense pleasure that same night, his muscles all tense and sore from the physical exertion.

He hummed under his breath, hearing her smile, lying on his stomach while she straddled him – he opened his eyelids lazily, feeling himself begin to slowly fall asleep.

He thought more and more about how her touch, her closeness, her scent had subconsciously calmed and relaxed him.

"He and my mother are trying to lecture me. As if I'm a fool who doesn't understand the consequences of his actions." He murmured resentfully, feeling tired and uncomfortable at the thought that they both still saw him as nothing more than a little child who refused to submit to their rules.

"They are the last people who should be instructing anyone in these matters." She said amused, and he froze, wondering why she had said that.

"What do you mean?" He asked curiously, thinking that perhaps Cole had a mistress he didn't know about.

He figured that he could use it against him if he wanted to moralise him again.

He turned onto his back when silence answered him, wanting to look at her – he blinked when he saw that she was pale, her eyes open wide in horror.

"What is it? What is that look?" He asked anxiously, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

She swallowed heavily and shook her head, her lips parted slightly in a deep breath.

"– it's just gossip – I shouldn't have said that –" She muttered, trying to smile and turn it into a joke.

His hand slid into her hair and his fingers clenched warningly in her soft curls.

"– hāedar –" He said coldly, letting her know that he was about to lose his patience and it would not be pleasant for either of them.

"– you shouldn't have heard it from me – gods, I was convinced you knew –" She mumbled, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

"– speak –"

She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes filled with warmth and a plea for him not to make her do it – he longed to kiss her, longed to sink into her lips with the thought that this was surely nothing, her naked body at his fingertips.

"– Ser Criston – he broke his vows of chastity with a woman who is close to you – and whom you hold in the highest regard for obvious reasons –" She whispered in a trembling voice, looking at him in pain, her lips parted in a loud, heavy breath.

He felt his lips press together in a thin line as his heart froze in his chest for a moment, his eye red from burning tears of rage and humiliation, cold disappointment and bitterness running through his veins.

His mother.

His mother had no words of understanding for him, no time to embrace him, to squeeze his hand, to comfort him and soothe his suffering after he returned from Storm's End, but she had time to take care of herself and her delight in the arms of her sworn protector.

A man he treated as a friend, as a role model, whom he trusted, with whom he spent long evenings in discussion, believing they shared a bond.

And he, as soon as he left his chamber, headed for his mother's quarters and fucked her, lecturing him brazenly the next day about the nature of his relationship with his cousin.

He felt himself grow sick at the thought, his stomach squeezed into a knot as if he was about to vomit.

"Get out." He said coldly and let her go, feeling himself quivering all over, his chest rising and falling in rage and pain. "I want to be alone."

He only saw out of the corner of his eye that she nodded, her hands trembling with nerves as she put on her nightgown and robe, looking at him once more, as if she hoped he would change his decision.

He, however, simply sat and looked at his fingers, pleading in his mind that she should just leave.

When he heard her get off his bed and quietly head towards the door, opening and closing it behind her, he broke out into a silent cry, burying his head between his knees.

Alicent had humiliated him, abandoned him, forgotten him, but she had time for her lover, found opportunities to give him her warm gaze and tenderness, her closeness, leaving him, her son, alone.

He swallowed hard, choking on his tears, and lifted his face as if he suddenly realised what he had done, horrified by the silence around him.

"– hāedar? – come back – come back, sleep in my bed –" He called out towards the door, for some reason believing that she was still there, that she had not left him.

He sobbed when no sound answered him and hid his face in his hands, thinking that he didn't want to sleep alone, wondering in a reflex of despair whether to flee to the brothel again, ready to find shelter anywhere as long as he could feel the warmth of another body beside him.

He shuddered and sighed when he heard the door open again, her head peeking in.

She stood in the corridor.

She had not left him, his little sister.

Never.

He held out his hand to her and she closed the door behind her and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

It was the first time he had burst out crying in front of someone – the warmth of her body, her familiar arms, her familiar scent made him feel so wonderfully relieved that tears began to run down his face on their own.

He was panting heavily when, with greedy, impatient movements, he tore her robe and nightdress from her shoulders, exposing before him her sweet, plump breasts, between which at last he dared to press his face, like a child seeking refuge, sinking his fingers into the soft skin of her naked back.

He struggled to catch air in his lungs as her arms enveloped him tenderly, pressing him against her warm, smooth skin – her fingertips combed through his hair, allowing him to calm down.

"– I'm so sorry –" She whispered, and he simply closed his eyes, thinking that it wasn't her fault after all.

"– all my life she's been telling me about the value of virtue – of sacrifice – instilling in me a belief in principles and morals – and she's fucking her own guard –" He howled regretfully, the touch of her fingers, her hands trailing over his body bringing him relief.

"– I know –" She whispered, sinking down onto the soft cushions along with his body – his hand found her sweet breast, wanting to touch something warm and pleasant that would give him comfort.

He closed his eyes as she locked him in the tight embrace of her arms, and he curled up, lifting his knees almost under his chin, wanting her to be able to give shelter to his whole body, being a little boy again.

"– no matter what I do – no matter how hard I try, what I sacrifice – I'm not able to please her –" He confessed in shame, his voice shaking with sadness and regret, feeling tear after tear run down his cheek without the participation of his will.

Everything he held inside just flowed out of him.

He sighed quietly, feeling relieved when she simply leaned over and kissed the top of his head with a sweet tenderness, running her fingers through his long, white hair without saying a word.

He thought he deeply appreciated that she didn't do what Madam did – every time he was vulnerable in her embrace, Sylvi showered him with advice and guidance, trying to manipulate and direct him, as if he didn't understand that she wanted him to simply do what would be better for her.

However, she, his little sister, was silent, coexisting with him in his suffering, focusing only on giving him solace, on gentle and innocent gestures full of affection, from which a pleasant warmth melted inside his chest.

He thought, nestled in the soft embrace of her familiar, sweet arms, that what his mother was doing didn't matter.

Now he had someone all to himself.

His little dragon.

His hāedar.

"You could hide better with your weakness for our cousin. The servants no longer even whisper but openly speak of her walking into your chamber in the evenings and leaving it only after sunrise." Said Aegon, pacing around his room while he sat comfortably in one of the chairs, feeling absolutely nothing at his words.

You'd be surprised to hear what our mother is doing, he thought, but didn't dare to say it out loud.

He decided that it was better to keep this information to himself.

It might have been useful to him at some point in the future.

"It takes her a long time to learn. She is making progress, but she is very…mmm, eager to bring the language of our ancestors to perfection." He said with a wide, cold grin, cocking his head to the side.

He didn't feel like confessing to him.

Aegon raised his eyebrows and walked over to the empty chair on the other side of the table, sitting down in it with a heavy sigh, reaching, of course, for the wine jug.

"I thought you hated bastards. Do you desire to beget your own now, brother?" He asked, and he smiled even wider.

"A maiden will not bear a child. Anyway. That's not why I invited you here." He said, unfolding one of the maps he had prepared earlier, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

His hāedar had begged him endlessly to tell him of his and Criston's plan, and as the battle of Rook's Rest was about to take place and possibly determine the fate of the war, he decided that this once he would yield to her, knowing that her fears were justified.

Aegon could not think that he was plotting behind his back.

She longed to participate in this conversation with him, but he did not agree to it.

These were matters between them.

Between brothers.

"Criston Cole and our army are not heading towards Harrenhal." He said, and his brother laughed, as if he had heard some foolishness.

"And where the fuck do you think he's heading? To his home in Dorne?" He asked amused, taking a loud sip from his cup.

He licked his lower lip, trying to remain calm and not show his frustration.

"To Rook's Rest."

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and shook his head, as if hoping his younger brother would tell him he had not meant it.

"WHAT?" He hissed and stood up, placing his hands on his hips, circling around the table, as usual unable to sit still.

"Why? That wasn't the plan. We wanted to destroy Daemon and take back Harrenhal. What has changed? Why don't I know anything about it?"

"Now you know. Cole and I thought it best to cut Rhaenyra off from the land first. To block her ability to support Daemon in the future with her army other than by sea. We must plan a few steps ahead. Be patient, brother. That is all." He said, raising his hand over the map of the Seven Kingdoms, recalling the words his little sister had used when suggesting what he should say to him. "What we are doing is for you. It's not hard to throw an army and lose – this map is a chessboard, and we need to plan well for the whole game, not just the end. I ask you to trust us and agree to our attack."

Aegon blinked and furrowed his brow, as if something in his words troubled him.

"Yours?"

He swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off him, wondering how he should convey this to him.

He decided he would just be honest.

"We're planning an ambush. This whore will surely send dragons to Rook's Rest to help defend the fortress. Then me and Vhagar will step onto the battlefield and take the lives of both the beast and its rider, whoever it may be." He said, and his brother pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Very well. I will fly with you then."

He looked at him dully, wondering if he was really such a fool.

"The King cannot die. You and Sunfyre will guard the Red Keep. Our cousin will accompany and support me." He said, and Aegon slammed his fist on the table, startling him and making him jump up in his seat.

"No. She is less experienced and she will protect our family in the Red Keep. I will fly by your side to fight like a man. I am the King and that is my final decision." He said, and he looked away, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

He thought that perhaps it would be better this way and closed his eyes.

Maybe this way his problems would solve themselves.

His brother had ordered a meeting of the Small Council later that afternoon, intending, as he understood it, to convey to the assembled members the change of plans and his decision.

He knew their mother would be furious.

They all turned their heads towards the door when their cousin walked in – he thought, looking at her, his little sister, at her warm gaze directed towards him, at her full, glistening lips, at her graceful, soft body hidden beneath her leather riding attire, that Aegon wanted to inform her that it was he who would be setting out at his side to fight.

"What is this important matter that could not wait any longer?" Their mother asked, looking at his brother with a weariness he knew well.

He wondered if she had prayed for Cole and his return before falling asleep, feeling discomfort and frustration in his chest at the thought.

Aegon nodded, ready to speak.

"I wish to relieve our subjects who live in hunger. This fucking blockade has gone on for too long and I have decided to take measures to remedy it. Greyjoys are tactically avoiding choosing sides in this conflict, and only their fleet could face the Velaryons. In such situations, things are usually resolved through marriage. Lord Greyjoy has two sons, Toron and Rodrick, who are looking for a suitable candidate to marry. My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements."

Silence fell all around him; he had the feeling that his body, although frozen in stillness, inwardly fell into some kind of panic attack, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he felt like he was dying.

My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements.

They wanted to marry her off.

They wanted to take her away from him.

He looked at her, at the woman who had brought him into the world, feeling deceived, betrayed, abandoned.

Alicent shook her head, her brown eyes big with sadness and regret, her lips parted slightly, as if she herself was suffering.

"You knew it would end like this. Your irresponsible behaviour forced us to take the right steps." She whispered, lowering her gaze to her fingers, with which she scratched the cuticles around her nails.

He thought that in that case his brother should marry her off too, since she was so eager to open her thighs before men, but he was unable to say such words about his own mother.

How would that testify to him?

He was her son.

Her behaviour, her sins would be a burden and a humiliation to him, Aegon, Helaena and Daeron.

He heard his hāedar at his side inhale sharply, as devastated as he was.

"– here is my home, my King – please –" She mumbled pleadingly, but his brother interrupted her.

"It would happen sooner or later. Better sooner, given the rumours that reach our ears about where you've been spending the last nights. My brother did not deny it, conversing with me today, that he is taking advantage of your…kindness. I want to put an end to this sinful practice."

"No." He heard his own voice, feeling rage, fury, despair, regret, anger, shame, fear.

No.

Not her.

"She is a Targaryen. 'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand." He said coldly, feeling his nostrils flutter in a heavy, deep breath.

His mother twisted in her seat, looking at him in disbelief as his brother smiled piteously at his words, making a drop of cold sweat run down his neck.

"You can bed whomever you want, brother. But it is I, as King and her protector, who will decide who she marries, and sooner Vhagar will fit into the Dragon's Pit than I'll give you her hand." He exclaimed.

"Why?" He asked like a little boy, feeling that the tone of his voice, the way the word suddenly ripped from his throat was just pathetic.

It made him want to cry.

Aegon froze, looking at him in disbelief.

"Good gods. Since when can the Kingdom afford marriages out of the need of the heart? Your subjects are starving. This agreement can make us break the blockade. Are your desires more important than the sake of the Realm?" His brother asked and he heard her loud sobs – out of the corner of his eye he saw that she hid her face in her hands.

"My decision is final. I will have the crow sent to the Iron Islands with our generous offer later today. That is all." He said and slammed his palms on the table, rising and left the room, leaving them with his words.

"– no – please, don't let him do it, don't send me away, don't send me away, don't send me away –" She wept like a little child as soon as he walked into her chamber, throwing herself into his arms – he cuddled her into himself as if he longed to merge with her into one, feeling his heart in his throat.

Don't send me away.

"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl – I won't –" He whispered, placing loud, soft kisses on her temple and cheekbone, stroking her back and neck with his hands, trying to calm her, to soothe her, her body trembling in his embrace.

"– you're lying – you're going to sell me, you're going to abandon me like he did –" She wailed, choking on her own tears, falling into complete hysteria, her fingers clenched painfully tight on his back.

He grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back, wanting her to look at him, doing it, however, so as not to cause her pain.

"What did I tell you? Back then, when we were lying under the stars. What did I promise in return for you taming a dragon?" He asked, and she swallowed hard, her pretty face all swollen from tears, her dark eyes big from the sadness and grief that squeezed her heart, her lips parted wide.

"– that my place will always be by your side – that you will protect me – that I will be your little sister –" She mumbled out with difficulty, breathing loudly through her mouth, looking at him pleadingly.

She closed her eyes and sighed as his thumbs brushed the moisture from her red, hot cheeks, his forehead pressed against hers exactly as it had been then.

That night.

"– and you are –" He hissed, clamping his fingers in her hair. "– you are fucking mine –"

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luminnara · 7 months

Text

Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE | PART THREE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

802 notes · View notes

gladiatorcunt · 6 months

Text

summary: (dark lite) heir!jacaerys x afab servant!reader

cw: sweat/jace being a weirdo about it, dubcon, frottage, implied virginity loss, intentional use of minimal valyrian & i used a translator so don’t come for me, implications of jace intending to marry reader with or without their consent/reader thinking this is just sex but 💀, he didn’t say it but he would kill his family to make you queen, power imbalance (sorry y’all i just like it), wrote this at a vibrator’s pace (/j) so there are zero thoughts behind it

wc: 888 (✨🕯️)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“I am not certain about this, Jace…” You mumble, tugging at his sleeve so he’ll stop running towards his chambers. “I have to perform my duties in the kitchen, there is hardly time for this.”

Jacaerys Velaryon disarms you with a charming smile, too genuine and heartfelt to not return.

“No one will notice if I arrive at dinner a tad later than usual, there is no need to worry.”

The door is swiftly opened and shut in the blink of an eye. You find yourself gathered up in the prince’s arms and the swat to your bottom urges you to wrap your legs around his waist.

King’s Landing’s sweltering sun beats down on you from the window. Minuscule beads of sweat have already accumulated at your brow. Jacaerys hunches over you to lap them up as if he were a thirsty mutt, you can only wrinkle your nose in aversion.

“Perhaps we should allow ourselves time to get to know each other before we do this, my prince.” You attempt to convince him, upholding your mother’s belief that intimacy is to be between married folks only. It does not mean you shudder in repulsion at the thought of Jacaerys making love to you. Only that your shame will always best your lust in battle.

“Yet I feel as if I have already known you for a lifetime, issa rūklon (my flower).” He whispers, brushing a hand against the blossom he had tucked behind your ear. The pronunciation is not as confident as someone like his mother’s.

Innocent walks in the gardens with a prince were only a gateway to depravity, you suppose.

You breath hitches when his lips ghost along your collarbone. You would do well to remember that Jaceaery has the potential to be as much of a dragon as the rest of his strange kin.

Your trembling hands clutch at the prince’s bare shoulders. His clothes tossed aside with little care, all of his attention on you. To push him away or bring him closer… you are wracked with indecision.

“Shh, be calm. You are the safest you have ever been, in my arms and in my bed.” The constant repetition of possessiveness is heightened by the glint of gold in Jacaerys’s irises.

“Lift your hips for me, ābrazyrys (wife).” Your brow furrows at the unfamiliar pet name, but you pay it no mind.

Your flimsy dress glides down your body, the cheap strings tying it together are in tatters.

Jacaerys offers you no respite and instead brings both of your wrists together in one hand, pinning them to the bed over your head.

“I am still a maiden, my prince, I have never even kissed a man before.” You nervously say.

His adoring smile widens, “I know, it is the same reason I decline offers to visit the brothels. Our firsts were meant to be shared with each other.”

The soft glow of candlelight illuminates Jacaerys hovering over you, allowing the sexual tension to build. Your grip on his shoulders slackens and you weave your calloused fingers into his brown hair.

If only you knew how much it reminded Jacaerys of his mother’s wedding to Daemon, the looks they exchanged as they tied their souls together.

“We have all the time in the world.” He reassures you, despite the fact that it was obviously not true. “I’ll be gentle”.

You gasp as he cups your cheek with his free hand and gently drops his body weight onto you.

He seizes your lips in a bruising kiss that you would have previously thought him incapable of. The roughness of his tongue entangling with yours drives you to tighten your hold on his hair and pull it. Jacaerys moans at the infliction of pain and rubs his naked flesh against you. The friction of the slow movements are suddenly frustrating, you feel the oddest desire for him to move faster.

You whine in unison with him when you separate from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. He licks it away with a flick of his tongue as he eyes bore into yours.

“Does that feel good, ābrazyrys (wife)? Your cunt is becoming wetter by the second.” He laughs, not cruelly, and continues grinding against your body.

“Yes…. my prince…. it feels …. so, mmm- amazing.” You struggle to reply, he was not even inside you and yet here you were bearing a striking resemblance to an animal in heat.

The sweat that your bodies produce makes the rutting sloppy, you have to frequently regain your hold on Jacaerys. His cock glides over your cunt and you throw your head back on the pillows. Something wet and sticky is smearing all over your belly every time he ruts against you.

This goes on until your body tenses up, your eyes widen and it is as if your gut clenches. Foolishly, you tug at his hair again but he just mouths ‘Yes!’ with his eyes screwed shut tightly as he keeps grinding. Your cunt pulses and a mix of white and clear fluid erupts from it and drips down to greet Jacaerys’s balls. His pace stutters then he glances down at the sight.

“Gods…. you served me a great deal. It is surely delicious, but I do hope that you are ready for me to return the favor.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #kinktober #⚰️.deaddove #just in case #yandere themes #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #this is probably going to flop but i love him

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Hear me out, mild but super passionate after sex where aemond lets reader braid his hair 😩 while keeping her on his lap (her straddling him), caressing her body, holding her for dear life and softly kissing every inch of skin he can reach… just please I could die for thisss (specially if you make him use valyrian here and there), he deserves the purest, most desperate love

GOD I had to address this one real quick good lord over here fanning myself! This is a shorter drabble, but I plan on revisiting very often in future fics.

Aemond x female!reader | Smut leading to fluff...leading back to smut I got carried away | post-coital bliss | Breeding kink?

"Aemond!" His name spilled from your lips, as it had many times during the course of that warm night. You came undone around him as he thrusted erratically up into your heated core, spilling his warm seed deep inside you. Your hands pressed against his chest, Aemond gripping your hips so tight you expected marks would show the next day. You straddled him, milking his cock as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, staring up at you, his silver hair splayed on the pillow. It was one of those rare, vulnerable moments he allowed you to be on top. With a shift, and his arms coming to hold you against him, Aemond sat up, so your chests brushed, his member still deep within you. He pressed a searing kiss to your lips. "Issa jorrāelagon, you were wonderful."

You took a lock of his hair in your fingers, pulling it over his shoulder as you began to braid. "I'm a natural at dragon riding."

Aemond snorted, not seeming to mind your attention to his hair as he littered kisses along your neck and shoulder. His arms were tight around you, holding you against him as though he wished to mold your bodies together. You chuckled wickedly as you felt him growing hard inside you once more, his cock twitching as you moved your hips teasingly. Aemond groaned, sucking the skin at your throat, his teeth and tongue working to mark you as his.

You continued weaving small braids into his long hair. "You have the loveliest hair, Aemond. It's quite unfair."

"Hmm." Was your only reply, he was busy kissing each freckle you had within reach of his lips. You let out a breathy gasp of pleasure as he began rutting gently into you. With firm hands at your back, Aemond guided you backwards to lay beneath him as he continued moving againt you with languid strokes.

He grabbed your legs, encouraging you to hook them around his torso, opening you further to his administrations. Aemond placed sloppy kisses to your breasts, his pace quickening, angled just right to hit the most sensitive part of you. Already you felt your core tightening with anticipation, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open, uttering a blissful sound halfway between his name and a moan.

"Aemond, I don't think I can." The sensation was so overwhelming, you could hardly think much less breathe, your vision going blurry as he drove himself deeper into you.

"You can, again. As many times as I will have you." Aemond's hand encircled your throat gently, his violet eye hooded as he looked down at your enraptured face. His pace was punishing now, the sound of your heavy breathing accompanied by the lewd wetness of your cunt already full from his last climax. "Take me, Y/N. I want you to bear me a child." Aemond was close, you could tell by the way his words slurred as he spoke. Your walls tightened around him, the feeling of overstimulation giving way to blinding ecstasy as you reached your limit. "I want to see your belly swell with my seed."

Those low, rasped words sent you over the edge. You cried out his name, falling apart once again, taking Aemond with you as he pumped more of his cum deep inside your aching core. His movements stilled, hand moving to cup the swell of your breast, kneading your plump flesh. After savoring the feel of your heat around him several more moments, Aemond reluctantly pulled out, leaving you feeling oddly empty.

"My, we've made quite a mess." Aemond got off the bed, walking to the water basin, grabbing a washcloth and soap as well.

You smiled with ardent affection for the man, watching him clean your body with tender care. He finished, frowning at the bedspread. "Yes, these sheets are quite ruined." Setting the bowl of soapy water aside, Aemond joined you on the mattress once more. "Does my little dragon rider desire a bath?" He placed a warm hand upon your stomach, ghosting his lips against your ear.

You reached up to comb your fingers through his hair, undoing the loosened braids you had made there. "I would love to bathe, but only if my dragon joins me."

"Hmm, you are in luck then, my love." Aemond chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to place soft kisses against your wrist. "Now you've claimed me, I will never leave your side."

#aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond drabble #aemond imagine #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond lemon #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #aemond targaryen x you

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kckt88 · 3 months

Text

For whom the bell tolls.

Summary:

After the death of her younger brother, Vaelarra plots to sneak into Kings Landing and take the life of the one responsible - her husband Aemond.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Plots/Scheming, Language, Kissing, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Blood, Character Death, Includes Epilogue.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C VAELARRA VELARYON (& JACAERYS VELARYON x VAELARRA VELARYON).

Word Count: 6778

A.N - Alternate version of Where Water Meets The Sea!!

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond sat alone in his chambers, the flickering flames of the fireplace casting dancing shadows across the room. His fingers digging into the wooden arms of his chair.

The fire’s warmth did little to chase away the coldness that had settled deep within his bones. His thoughts turning to his wife, Vaelarra, and their son, Aenys.

He could still see Vaelarra’s face, twisted in anger and hurt, the day he had her and Aenys locked away in their chambers. He had believed he was doing the right thing, helping to secure the throne for his brother Aegon, instead of the named heir Rhaenyra.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he thought of Ser Erryk, the knight who had, freed his wife from her confinement and allowed her and Aenys to escape King’s Landing on the back of her dragon, Cannibal, with the two of them now safely ensconced on Dragonstone.

Much had changed since he had last seen his wife.

The blood of her brother Lucerys now stained his hands, a dark reminder of the confrontation at Storm’s End. He could still hear the scream of terror as Vhagar, had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

He knew Vaelarra would never forgive him for what he had done.

No longer would she gaze upon him with love and call him her gēlenka zaldrīzes. (Silver dragon).

He would never get to enjoy the feeling of her combing and braiding his hair and he certainly wouldn’t get to hear her whisper Issa vēzos se qēlossās as they made love.(My sun and stars)

The bond they had shared, once so strong, was now irrevocably broken. She would hate him, and he could not blame her. He was a kinslayer, a cursed title that would haunt him forever.

The fire crackled, a log collapsing into embers. Aemond’s grip on the chair loosened, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating mantle.

Crowning Aegon had cost a heavy price, and in the solitude of his chambers, he faced the true cost of his actions.

The love of his wife and son, all sacrificed on the altar of his own making. The flames flickered and danced, their light casting a harsh glow on the reality he could no longer escape.

Meanwhile, on Dragonstone, Vaelarra stood around the painted table, her gaze fixed on the intricate carvings that detailed the lands of Westeros.

Beside her stood her father, Daemon, his presence a formidable pillar of strength. Her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, stood nearby, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Her grandmother, Rhaenys, stood silent but strong, her gaze as unyielding as the sea. A small number of lords loyal to her mother were also gathered, their faces etched with worry and resolve.

The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy silence hanging in the air. Vaelarra’s heart ached, her thoughts a tumultuous storm of grief and anger.

“Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-”

The door creaked open, and she gasped as her mother, Rhaenyra, walked into the room. Dishevelled and unkempt, Rhaenyra looked like a shadow of her former self.

She had spent the last ten days searching for the remains of her son Lucerys, her desperation and sorrow evident in every step she took.

In Rhaenyra’s grasp was a piece of Luke’s shredded cloak. The sight of it caused Vaelarra’s breath to hitch, a quiet sob escaping her lips.

The room seemed to close in around her as she stared at the tattered fabric, a physical reminder of her younger brother’s tragic end. Her heart twisted and broke, the pain of loss almost too much to bear.

Her grief slowly began to morph into something darker, something colder. As the reality of Luke’s death settled over her, Vaelarra’s sorrow turned into a burning hatred. Her husband, Aemond, the father of her child, was responsible for this.

The man she had once loved with all her heart had brought this unimaginable pain upon her family. The love she had once felt for him was now tainted, twisted by the betrayal and the blood on his hands.

Her eyes hardened, the tears drying as a steely resolve took hold. She would avenge her brother. The man responsible for Luke’s death would pay dearly for his actions.

Vaelarra clenched her fists, the knuckles turning white.

The image of Aemond, once a source of joy and love, now filled her with a burning desire for vengeance.

Vaelarra swore silently to herself that she would spill the blood of the one responsible, that she would make Aemond pay for the agony he had caused.

“Your council stands at the ready Your Grace” said Daemon placing his hands on the table “I will fly to Harrenhal at your command and set our toe hold in the Riverlands”.

“Your Grace, my lord husbands blockade of the gullet moves into place, all seaborn travel and trade to Kings Landing will soon be cut off” said Rhaenys her voice firm.

“I-I want Aemond Targaryen” exclaimed Rhaenyra, her fists clenched.

As Rhaenyra walked away from the table, her face streaked with tears, Vaelarra looked at her father, their silent glance was worth more than a thousand words.

Later that night Vaelarra sat with her mother, in silence as they awaited the arrival of Jacaerys, the grief over losing Luke etched upon her face, her eyes that had once sparkled were now dull orbs, staring at the wall, the only movement she made was breathing.

The sound of the door opening distracted Vaelarra, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Jace.

Tired, and pale. But he was alive and he was home.

Vaelarra rushed to her brother and held him tight, her face buried in his neck.

“Thank the gods, your safe-” whispered Vaelarra softly as she felt Jace’s arms encircle her waist and hold her tight.

“Sister-“ muttered Jace, his voice small.

Vaelarra placed a kiss upon his brow and released him from her hug, only for Jace to take her hand and refuse to let go.

“Your Grace-Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale” said Jace.

Vaelarra looked at her mother who nodded silently.

“-And Lord Cregan Stark, h-has promised-“ said Jace his voice wobbling as he struggled to contain his grief “-Two thousand men-”

Rhaenyra slowly rose from her seat and made her way towards her children, she paused for a moment before she pulled them both into her embrace.

Jace couldn’t contain his grief a moment longer and he cried, swept up in the in the arms of his mother and sister.

Vaelarra and Daemon stood on one of the balconies of Dragonstone, the salty breeze tugging at their cloaks as they gazed out over the turbulent sea. The sky was painted with hues of deep orange and red as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient fortress.

Vaelarra's jaw was set, her eyes burning with determination as she turned to face her father.

"I have a plan-to see an end to this fucking war before it gets worse" she began, her voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of fierce resolve. "I will sneak into King's Landing and slit Aemond's throat. He deserves to pay for what he's done, for what he's taken from us."

Daemon's invisible brows furrowed, a mixture of concern and scepticism flashing in his eyes. "And what if you fail?" he asked, his tone gruff. "What if you’re caught before you even reach him? You’re talking about sneaking into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold. The risks are too great-we have already lost two children, one of them by the hand of that one eyed cunt, and I will not lose another"

She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. "I will not fail. I am not some weakling woman. I am blood of the dragon, and I will see justice served for Lucerys. I know the Red Keep; I know the secret passageways. No one else can get close enough to Aemond."

Daemon sighed, his worry for his daughter evident. "You are my oldest child, Vaelarra. I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. If something were to happen—"

"Nothing will happen," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I am the only one who can do this. Aemond will never suspect me. He won't see me coming."

They stood in silence for a few moments, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Finally, Daemon nodded slowly, though his eyes were still filled with reluctance. "If we are to do this," he said quietly, "then we will do it together. I will not let you face this danger alone."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, gratitude mixing with her determination. "Together, then," she agreed.

Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "We will plan this carefully. Every detail must be perfect. We cannot afford any mistakes and we cannot under any circumstances tell your mother”.

Vaelarra nodded, her resolve unshaken. "I understand"

Under the cover of darkness, a small rowboat glided silently toward the docks of King’s Landing.

Cloaked figures huddled within it; their faces hidden from view. Vaelarra and Daemon, having paid for their clandestine passage, stepped onto the worn wooden planks of the dock. The muffled sounds of the city night surrounded them: distant laughter, the clatter of horse hooves, and the faint murmur of conversations.

Vaelarra pulled her cloak tighter around her, the hood casting deep shadows over her face. Daemon, equally concealed, motioned for her to follow.

Together, they slipped into the labyrinthine streets of King’s Landing, keeping to the narrow, less-travelled alleys. Heads down, they moved swiftly and quietly, their boots barely making a sound against the cobblestones.

The city, even at night, was alive with activity. Beggars huddled in doorways, their eyes tracking the cloaked figures warily. Vaelarra and Daemon pressed on, their hearts pounding with the tension of their mission.

The familiar stench of the city, a mix of refuse and sea air, was almost comforting in its predictability.

They arrived at an unassuming wall, overgrown with ivy and seemingly forgotten. Daemon reached out, fingers brushing against the stone until he found a hidden latch. With a quiet click, a portion of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark passageway leading into the depths of the Red Keep.

Daemon turned to Vaelarra; his expression hidden but his concern evident in his posture. He handed her a finely crafted dagger, its blade gleaming even in the dim light.

“Be careful, Vaelarra,” murmured Daemon, his voice low and urgent. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Vaelarra took the dagger, the weight of it both reassuring and heavy with the responsibility it carried. She met her father’s eyes, the shared determination between them a silent promise. “I will be back,” she whispered, her voice unwavering. She stepped forward, embracing Daemon tightly.

As she pulled away, Vaelarra took a deep breath and disappeared into the darkened passageway. The air inside was cool and musty, the narrow walls pressing in on her as she moved forward. Daemon watched her go, his heart heavy with a mix of pride and dread. The shadows swallowed her form, leaving him alone in the silent night.

He closed the hidden door behind her, his thoughts racing as he positioned himself nearby, ready to act if needed. The city’s noises faded into the background as he focused on the task ahead. Vaelarra was strong, capable, and determined. She was blood of the dragon. And though the path she walked was fraught with danger, Daemon knew she would face it head-on, driven by the need for justice and vengeance.

Inside the passageway, Vaelarra moved with purpose, the layout of the Red Keep etched into her memory.

Each step brought her closer to her goal, the dagger a cold reminder of the deadly mission she had undertaken. She was not just a sister seeking vengeance; she was a dragon, and she would see her brother avenged, no matter the cost.

Vaelarra moved silently through the hidden passageways of the Red Keep, her footsteps barely a whisper against the cold stone floor.

The walls, lined with cobwebs and the dust of years, seemed to close in around her as she navigated the narrow, twisting corridors.

Several times, she was forced to stop, pressing herself against the rough stone as maids and guards passed by, their conversations muffled but clear enough to keep her alert. Each time, she remained undiscovered, her breathing steady and controlled.

She made her way toward Aemond's chambers, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

As she approached the secret entrance, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. The small door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, slipping inside and quickly closing it behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a few candles casting long shadows across the walls. Scraps of discarded parchment littered the desk and floor, a testament to Aemond's restless thoughts.

Vaelarra picked up one of the pieces, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled words. She saw her name, written and crossed out multiple times.

Aemond must have attempted to write to her, to find the right words to explain his actions. But how does a kinslayer express his remorse?

The sound of movement outside the main door made her freeze. She quickly moved behind a heavy curtain, her breath shallow and silent.

The door swung open, and she listened intently as the unmistakable sound of Aemond's footsteps filled the room. He entered slowly, the familiar rhythm of his gait sending a shiver down her spine.

She heard the soft thud of his leather jerkin being removed, followed by the clinking of his weapons as he set them aside.

From her hiding place, Vaelarra watched silently, her eyes never leaving him. He moved with a weary grace, his back to her as he approached the desk.

She could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of his guilt and actions pressing down on him. He paused, his hand hovering over one of the discarded parchments, before letting out a sigh and turning away.

Vaelarra's grip tightened around the dagger, her mind racing with the memories of what he had done. The image of Lucerys, her younger brother, flashed before her eyes, fuelling the fire of her anger and sorrow. She remained unmoving, a predator observing its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Aemond moved toward the bed, oblivious to her presence. Vaelarra's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the resolve that had brought her here. She knew what she had to do. For Lucerys, for her family, and for herself, she would see this through.

Vaelarra hid the dagger beneath her cloak, her fingers gripping its hilt tightly as she stepped out from behind the curtain. The soft rustle of her cloak was enough to alert Aemond to her presence.

He spun around, his eye narrowing as he scanned the room for the intruder. Before Vaelarra could react, he moved with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior, seizing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall.

The impact forced the breath from her lungs, her vision blurring for a moment. Aemond's grip was ironclad, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her in place.

He reached out with his other hand and yanked down the hood of her cloak, his eye widening in shock as he came face to face with Vaelarra.

"Vaelarra?" gasped Aemond, the surprise evident in his voice. For a moment, the fierce determination in her eyes gave him pause.

Aemond's grip loosened slightly, confusion and a flicker of something else—remorse, perhaps—crossing his features. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

Vaelarra’s heart raced, the weight of the dagger beneath her cloak a constant reminder of her mission. She stared at him, the man she had once loved, now her enemy. "I'm here for justice, Aemond," she replied, her voice steady despite the pressure on her throat. "For Lucerys."

Aemond's face contorted with pain and regret, but he did not release her. "You don't understand," he began, but Vaelarra cut him off.

"I understand enough," she spat, her eyes burning with a mix of hatred and sorrow. "You killed my brother. You betrayed everything we once had."

Aemond's grip tightened again, his internal struggle clear. "I never wanted this," he said through gritted teeth. "But this war—it has taken everything from us."

"It didn't take Lucerys from us," Vaelarra hissed, her fingers inching closer to the dagger beneath her cloak. "You did that."

Aemond's eye locked onto hers, the room filled with the tension of their shared history and the weight of their choices.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls as they faced each other.

Vaelarra pulled off her cloak with a swift motion, laying it carefully on Aemond's bed while ensuring the dagger remained concealed beneath its folds. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with fury.

Without warning, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room.

Aemond's head snapped to the side, his cheek reddening from the force of the blow. He turned back to her, a mixture of shock and anger in his eye, but Vaelarra didn't give him a chance to speak.

"You usurped the throne, helped to steal my birthright, and the birthright of our son. Aenys would have been king, but you took that from him. You murdered Lucerys. You killed my brother!" hissed Vaelarra, her voice low and filled with venom.

Aemond's expression twisted with pain and regret, but Vaelarra continued, her words a torrent of anger and betrayal. "You were my husband, the father of my child, and you betrayed us all. You sided with Aegon, you chose power over family, and now, look at the ruin you've brought upon us. You took everything from me, from Aenys, and for what? A throne built on blood and lies?"

"Vaelarra," Aemond began, his voice breaking, but she cut him off, her eyes filled with tears of rage.

"No, you don't get to speak," she snapped. "You don't get to explain or justify your actions. Lucerys is dead because of you. My brother is gone, and the blood is on your hands. How could you? How could you do this to us?"

“Larra-“ muttered Aemond.

"He was an envoy! He was a child-“

Aemond's face twisted with pain and frustration. "-So was I when Luke carved my eye out of my skull!" he shot back, the rawness of his voice revealing the deep scars the event had left on him.

Vaelarra's eyes blazed with a mix of rage and sorrow. "So that's what it was—revenge? What happened on Driftmark was an accident!"

Aemond stepped closer, his expression hardening. "An accident Luke was never held accountable for—he never even apologized," he said, his voice low but intense.

Vaelarra's breath hitched, her anger giving way to a profound grief. "He was a child, Aemond. A scared, impulsive child. And you-you slaughtered him for a mistake made in fear."

Aemond clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I didn't mean to kill him," he admitted, his voice strained. "But the anger, the humiliation I carried all these years-it consumed me. And when I saw him at Storm's End, it all came rushing back."

Vaelarra's shoulders sagged, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. "I loved you, Aemond. I thought-I thought that we could be different. That we could rise above the hatred”.

"I never wanted this," Aemond said, his voice cracking. "But the world we live in, the choices we've made-they've brought us to this point. I am sorry, Vaelarra. Truly, I am."

Vaelarra shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Sorry won't bring Luke back. It won't ease the pain."

Aemond's eye burned with a mixture of anger and anguish as he stepped closer to Vaelarra, his voice rising with the intensity of his emotions. "How do you think I feel, Vaelarra? My eye is gone, my face permanently scarred, and my own father, didn't even bother to defend me. He publicly chose his favourite child, Rhaenyra, over and over again."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, a flicker of empathy breaking through her anger, but Aemond pressed on, his voice trembling with the weight of his pain.

"All through my life, Viserys never bothered with me, Aegon, or Helaena. Do you know what it's like to grow up knowing that your father would probably have preferred it if you and your siblings had never been born? To feel like an afterthought, a mistake he regretted?"

“-Aemond”

"You had your mother; your brothers, and you’ve had three fathers in your life. You had a family that loved you. But for me, every day was a reminder that I was unwanted, unloved. And then, when Luke took my eye, it was as if the last bit of hope I had for my father's approval was ripped away."

“-And you think that excuses your actions, that it some how absolves you of your sins” snarled Vaelarra.

"Why did you come here, Vaelarra?" asked Aemond, his voice a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Why risk so much to stand before me?"

Vaelarra's gaze was unwavering, her voice steady but laced with raw emotion. "I had to stand in front of you," she said. "I had to look you in the eye and see for myself if the man I loved still existed, or if he had truly become the monster who killed my brother."

Aemond's breath caught in his throat, and he took a hesitant step toward her. "And what do you see?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vaelarra's eyes filled with tears, her expression a mixture of heartbreak and resolve. "I see a stranger," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "The man I loved would never have hurt me in such a manner. He promised me, on the day we wed, that things would be different. That we would forge our own path, away from the bitterness and bloodshed of our families. And all you've done is start a war, a war that has torn us apart and taken everything from us."

Aemond’s face crumpled, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "Vaelarra, I—" he began, but she shook her head, silencing him.

"No," she said firmly. "You made your choices, Aemond, and now we all have to live with the consequences. Lucerys is dead. Our son’s birthright has been stolen. And you have become a monster."

Aemond's eye glistened with unshed tears as he reached out a hand toward her, but Vaelarra stepped back, her resolve unyielding. "I came here to see if there was any trace of the man I married left within you," she said quietly. "But I see now that he is gone, replaced by someone I can no longer recognize. Someone who values power over family, ambition over love."

Aemond's eye filled with desperation as he stepped forward, taking Vaelarra's face gently in his hands. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he looked into her tear-stained eyes.

"Vaelarra," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you. I have always loved you. Please, don't abandon me. I need you. I am so sorry for all of it."

“Aemond-“

He kissed her tear-streaked cheeks, the salt of her tears mingling with his lips. "Forgive me," he pleaded between kisses. "Please, forgive me ābrazȳrys. I can't bear to lose you” (Wife).

Vaelarra's resolve wavered, her heart torn between the love she still felt for him and the pain of his betrayal.

Aemond pressed his lips to hers, the kiss filled with a desperate need for forgiveness and redemption.

For a moment, she resisted, her body stiff with the weight of her grief and anger. But as his kiss deepened, she felt the familiar pull of their bond, the shared memories of love and passion.

Slowly, her resistance melted away. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck and holding him close.

In that tender embrace, Vaelarra allowed herself to succumb to the bittersweet illusion Aemond's touch offered—the illusion of a fleeting moment frozen in time, where the weight of betrayal and the horrors of war could momentarily be set aside.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the warmth of his embrace, in the familiar scent of his skin that once brought her comfort.

For a brief, fragile moment, she pretended. Pretended there was no war tearing the realm apart, no blood staining his hands. Pretended that Aemond hadn't betrayed her, hadn't shattered the trust that once bound them together.

In that moment, they were simply husband and wife again, sharing a stolen fragment of peace amidst the chaos.

She brushed her lips against his, tasting both sorrow and love in the tender kiss they shared. Their bodies pressed together, seeking solace and familiarity in each other's arms.

For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist—the Red Keep around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them.

Aemond backed Vaelarra towards the bed, their hands pulling at each other’s clothes, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra he shoved her onto the mattress.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelarra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaelarra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelarra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelarra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelarra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelarra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaelarra; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaelarra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Vaelarra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus-” whispered Vaelarra as she writhed against him (Please).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Vaelarra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaelarra can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelarra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

Aemond lifted Vaelarra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelarra.

“That’s it-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Vaelarra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Vaelarra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Vaelarra arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the chambers.

“Fuck. Larra-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Vaelarra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me” pleaded Vaelarra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and laid on the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Vaelarra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Vaelarra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it Larra, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelarra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond.

Vaelarra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelarra.

“-FUCK” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The chamber was filled with the aftermath of their lovemaking, the air thick with a mix of passion and lingering tension.

Vaelarra sat atop Aemond, his chest rising and falling beneath her, his singular eye closed in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, his softened cock still nestled inside her.

She watched as he basked in his pleasure, his cheeks tinged pink. Their recent intimacy had not made her waver in her decision to do what must be done.

Discreetly, Vaelarra reached for the dagger still hidden within her cloak. Her fingers curled around the hilt.

"I hope your seed will take root within me once more," Vaelarra whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the stillness.

Her hand caressed his cheek, fingers tracing the lines of his face and perfectly shaped lips as if trying to etch his face into her memory forever.

Aemond's eye opened, meeting hers with a mix of regret and longing. "I hope so too," he replied, his voice husky with emotion as he placed a hand on her stomach.

"A part of me will always love you, Aemond," Vaelarra confessed, her voice trembling with the weight of her words.

She met Aemond's eye one last time, searching for any remnants of the man she had loved, but finding only the shadow of a broken oath and shattered promises.

And then, with a swift and decisive motion, she plunged the dagger downward.

Aemond's eye widened in shock as the dagger was driven deep into his neck.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of agony and farewell, he didn’t move, he didn’t try to push her off, he seemed resigned to his fate as his arms had remained by his side.

Vaelarra then pulled the dagger free, the metallic scent of blood filling the air as it seemingly spilled without an end over them both, the red of Aemond’s blood a stark contrast to the white cotton bed sheets.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Aemond's body went limp beneath her, the weight of his lifeless form a stark reminder of the irreversible choice she had made.

As she stared at Aemond’s lifeless body the tears she had held back for so long finally broke free, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers of grief.

Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, each breath a painful reminder of the life she had taken and the love she had lost.

After Vaelarra had composed herself as much as possible, she began to dress and pull on her cloak, her movements slow and deliberate, after she had finished she pulled a sheet over Aemond's lower half, a final gesture to preserve his modesty in death.

As she leaned over him, she ran a trembling finger down his sculpted face, her touch gentle despite the weight of what had happened.

Aemond's singular eye had remained open and unblinking, the sapphire that replaced his missing eye was glinting in the low light of the chamber's fire.

With a steady hand, Vaelarra carefully removed the sapphire from the empty eye socket, her touch lingering for a moment on the cool surface. She placed the gemstone inside the pocket of her cloak, a keepsake of the man who had once been her husband, now forever lost to her.

Before leaving, Vaelarra pressed a kiss to Aemond's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment in a silent farewell. She pulled up her hood, concealing her tear-streaked face, and turned towards the secret entrance that led out of Aemond's chambers.

Just before departing, a resolve settled within her. She picked up Aemond's sword and dagger, feeling their weight in her hands.

With practiced efficiency, she fastened the belt around her waist, securing the weapons close to her body.

As she slipped through the secret passage, leaving behind the lifeless body of Aemond, Vaelarra knew that her actions would reverberate through the realm but whatever happened she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Vaelarra moved swiftly through the labyrinthine passageways of the Red Keep, her heart pounding with a mixture of sorrow and grim determination. Each step echoed in the dimly lit corridors, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her shoulders.

Finally, she emerged into a secluded chamber where Daemon, stood waiting anxiously. His face softened with relief as he caught sight of her, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Vaelarra allowed herself a moment to lean into his embrace, seeking solace in the presence of her father amid the turmoil of her emotions.

"I was worried-" Daemon murmured against her hair; his voice thick with concern. "I feared they had caught you."

Vaelarra pulled back slightly, meeting her father's gaze with eyes that held a mix of weariness and resolve. "-A son for a son" she replied softly, her voice steady despite the lingering tremor in her hands. "-Aemond is dead."

Daemon's expression shifted, a complex blend of emotions crossing his features. He noticed the blood staining Vaelarra's clothes, evidence of the deed she had carried out. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his pride and sorrow mingling in the depths of his eyes.

"You have done what needed to be done, Vaelarra. You are true blood of the dragon." murmured Daemon, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

Vaelarra felt a swell of conflicting emotions at her father's words—pride, relief, and the weight of the path she had chosen. She nodded solemnly, grateful for his understanding and support.

"You took his weapons," Daemon observed quietly, his voice tinged with both curiosity and understanding.

Vaelarra met his gaze steadily, her own eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and sorrow. "I took them for Aenys," she explained, her voice steady despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "One day, when he is old enough, he might want to have them. They belonged to his father."

Daemon nodded slowly, a solemn acknowledgment passing between them. "A fitting keepsake," he murmured, his voice filled with a sense of finality.

Turning his attention away from the grim reminders of the past, Daemon looked around the secret entrance. "Let us leave King's Landing," he said firmly. "Now that Aemond is dead, it won't take them long to discover his body. We must not be here when they do."

Vaelarra nodded in agreement, a sense of urgency settling over her as they made their way swiftly through the darkened streets of King's Landing, their steps hurried yet purposeful.

The weight of their actions hung heavy in the air as they navigated towards the shores where their small rowboat awaited them. They moved with silent determination as the sound of bells ringing echoed throughout the city, signalling the discovery of Aemond's body.

As they reached the dock where their boat and it’s row man waited, moving along with the gentle waves, Daemon's arm instinctively wrapped around Vaelarra's shoulders, drawing her close as they climbed aboard and took a seat.

Neither Daemon nor Vaelarra spoke as they drifted further and further away from King's Landing.

Their silence was heavy with unspoken thoughts, each lost in their own reflections on the events that had transpired.

Daemon's grip on his daughter tightened subtly, a silent reassurance of their bond amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead.

In the years following the events that reshaped the realm, peace gradually settled over Westeros under Queen Rhaenyra's reign.

With Aemond dead and Vhagar no longer a threat, under Daemon's leadership, the Black army swiftly secured King's Landing, paving the way for Rhaenyra to ascend the Iron Throne unopposed.

Aegon conceded the conquerors crown and was granted a pardon, he and Helaena chose to travel across the narrow sea to Essos and found a new home in Pentos where they could live out their days in peace with their three children.

Meanwhile, justice was meted out to those who had conspired against Rhaenyra. Otto Hightower, Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister, Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong were all found guilty of treason and faced the ultimate consequence.

Alicent Hightower, while pardoned, remained confined within the Red Keep, a reminder of the cost of ambition and betrayal.

Under Rhaenyra's rule, those who had bent the knee to Aegon were given the opportunity to pledge their loyalty to her rightful reign, solidifying her hold over the Seven Kingdoms.

Stability returned to the realm as Rhaenyra worked to heal the wounds left by the war.

Nine moons after Aemond's death, Vaelarra gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Aemma.

Two years later, she married Jacaerys, finding love and companionship once more.

Together, they were blessed with a son named Lucerys and a daughter named Viserra, their family growing amidst the newfound peace.

As years passed, Aenys, now eleven name days old, successfully claimed Vhagar as his own.

The ancient she dragon, once bonded to his father Aemond, readily accepted him as her new rider, forging a new bond that echoed through history.

Aenys spent much of his youth honing his skills in the training yard, his prowess with the sword remarkable.

His long sword that once belonged to his father, with a sapphire now embedded in its hilt, became a symbol of his lineage and inherited talent.

In the wake of war and turmoil, life in Westeros moved forward, shaped by the choices, and sacrifices of those who dared to fight for their beliefs.

Through it all, the legacy of House Targaryen endured, bound by blood, dragons, and the ever-changing tides of history.

A.N - Jace was never betrothed to Baela in this story and please let me know which version you prefer, this or Where Water Meets The Sea.

I like to create different versions of similiar stories that I have written as I like the what if possibilities..

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x original female character #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd

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restinslices · 10 months

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Lin Kuei Sibling Headcanons

I gotta stop using the same gifs over and over again. Anywho, just random headcanons about them when they were younger. A few of these is what my siblings and I did but listen-. No sad shit this time around, but next time issa wrap no bun (word to CoryXKenshin)

When they were younger Bi-Han realized someone was drinking his shit, so he started spitting in it

He also loudly announces that he did so and that whoever drank his shit was drinking his germs

Kuai Liang responded by saying “well we both share the same DNA”

Revolting. Yuck.

Tomas smiles when he's nervous so people always think he's lying.

“Did you drink my slushy?” “No” “Yes you did. You're smiling” “YOU'RE MAKING ME NERVOUS”

D if you ever see this, I did not drink that fucking slushy years ago and getting mom involved was actually so foul. “Put that on my dead granny”, WHY WOULD I LIE ON GRANDMA? I SHOULD'VE drank it. Should've took a big ass gulp

Moving on-

Like I said in my last post, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang have definitely jumped Tomas before

They call it play fighting, Tomas calls it attempted murder

Bi-Han is the “come here” brother and Tomas is the “you're gonna hit me” brother

Bi-Han is also the “you want a cookie?” and Tomas is the “what'd you do to it?”

Speaking of those two, the real reason Bi-Han doesn't like Tomas is because Tomas would stand in his doorway and when Bi-Han would tell him to get out, Tomas would say “I'm not in your room”

Kuai Liang would put his finger close to Bi-Han but say he's not touching him

That's the real reason he betrayed them. It's true. I asked him.

Idk which one them does it but one of these mfs puts the cereal box in front of them to ignore the brother they're mad at

Tomas is “your dad is pissing me off”, Kuai Liang is “lmao what happened?”

Bi-Han’s room is the chill out spot against his will

Kuai Liang has accidentally set someone on fire 100% and they never let him live it down (my siblings did that on purpose but scooting right along) (no one died😃)

Tomas is the victim of white jokes. He'll say smth and here comes Bi-Han “why are you?? speaking?? to me?? as a white person?? go eat salt??”

Kuai Liang is “hey can I have a bite?” and Bi-Han says “sure” then licks all over whatever he has.

“Tuesday is my day with the TV” “you're adopted. shut up”

Bi-Han has gotten the other two into several fights ‘cause he has a bad temper and his siblings ride for him

This one time my sister yelled at a teacher for yelling at me and that's Bi-Han. Like yeah, he's not the nicest as an adult but as a kid? The only mf that's allowed to yell at his brothers is HIM.

They've all gotten whooped because none of them snitch on each other. This is a ride or die brotherhood (for now) (not me tho. My mom got a heavy ass hand. You're on your own)

“Tell your brother to do those damn dishes” “you want me to say it like that? with the curse word?” “go ahead”

Whoever it is goes to their brother and- “dad said get your big nasty ass up and clean those motherfucking dishes before he whoops your skinny long neck ass”

I cannot pinpoint who exactly would do this and risk the whooping so imma just say they've all been guilty

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are those annoying ass kids asking you to play bloody knuckles. If you don't get the fuck away from me-

Tomas played with Kuai Liang once and quit immediately

Kuai Liang is the “I only had a cup” when the juice is all gone. Yeah, you had a big ass cup you get from Super America. The Minute Maid is gone because of you

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, “Say Fuck, I'm not gonna tell dad”. Tomas says “no” and the day he does say it now he's being blackmailed

Kuai Liang would help Bi-Han look for shit he knows he took. Y'all may think Kuai Liang would never do such a thing. He's so sweet. THAT'S HOW HE GOT AWAY WITH IT!

When they accidentally really hurt the other and hear their parents, they have different reactions. Bi-Han is the “tell them. I don't care. Actually, I'll tell them for you” brother. Kuai Liang is the “wait wait wait, calm down. Stop crying. Look, you can hit me back. You want candy?” brother. Tomas is the “that was actually an accident. My bad” brother.

Tomas actually learned all that smoke… magic… uhh… shit so he could defend himself cause he was getting ragdolled in that house

Kuai Liang is actually really nice to Tomas now cause he looks back and thinks “wow, I was kinda an asshole”

For example, Tomas was living his life and here comes these maniacs grabbing him and putting his bare feet in the snow

Idk, I just really think Tomas was fighting for his life in that house

It was all in love but now he jumps when they move a little too fast

Tomas tells his brothers he loves them a lot because he wasn't able to tell his birth family before they were killed. He wants them to always know and whenever their time does come, he wants it to be the last thing they hear from him or the last thing he says before he dies.

Kuai Liang usually says it back or says something else comforting. His way of saying “I love you” can be something as simple as a hand on the shoulder. Sometimes instead of saying “I love you”, he says “I care about you”. Personal preference

Bi-Han used to say “I love you” back but as time passed, he stopped. He's someone who gets kinda uncomfortable when it comes to vulnerable emotions. His way of saying “I love you” is “are you hurt?”. It's usually only used after a form of combat but combat can make you realize that your life is on a time limit. We saw in game and by intro dialogues that he was hurt by Kuai Liang not sticking by him. The idea that he doesn't care for his family AT ALL I think is false. I think he cares but he cares about his own goals more.

That's all I got for fluffy shit rn

I’m actually someone who enjoys angst way more than fluff but thinking about them and angst makes my heart fall into my ass … imma write some later tho

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matan4il · 6 months

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Daily update post:

Since this morning, Hezbollah has been firing rockets at Israel's northern towns. There is at least one man dead, identified as 25 years old Zahara Bashar, an Israeli Druze, and 2 people injured as a result of this on going attack.

This is a reaction by Iran-funded Hezbollah to a strike by Israel yesterday on a different terrorist organization, al-Jama’a al-Islamiyya (the Islamic Assembley, an ally of al-Qaeda), and following even more Israeli military activity in Lebanon, meant to stop a senior member of Fatah (the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority) from smuggling Iranian-funded standard explosives and additional weapons into Israel for terrorist attacks. As one TV military reporter I was listening to yesterday explained, the difference between improvised explosives and standard ones is in how lethal they are, for example when a small amount is attached to the side of a vehicle, the difference is whether one person gets killed or ten.

youtube

I've written about Israel still waiting for definitive proof that Marwan Issa, Hamas' #3 in Gaza, has been killed in a military strike. Yesterday, we got an official confirmation of that. This means that out of the 4 Hamas leaders that are on the top of Israel's list, two are gone. We're still left with Yahya Sinwar (#1) and Mohammed Deif (#2). Most Israelis tend to think that if Israel manages to kill Sinwar, Hamas will likely surrender, and the war would be over.

As Israel's military operation in the Shifa hospital continues, here is a really important batch of testimonies from captured terrorists, about how, once the IDF left this place, they returned to it, exploited it assuming they'd be safe there, and how they were not alone, with defined areas for the Hamas terrorists, and others meant for the Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) terrorists, cynically using spots such as the maternity ward.

youtube

A military reporter published the fact that Israel has refused permission for Turkey and Qatar to participate in air drops of humanitarian aid into Gaza. The reporter frames it as a political decision, but consider what it means that Qatar and Turkey are both politically hostile countries - that there is no way for Israel to verify they would not try to air drop military aid to Hamas. At the same time, I wanna highlight what this info also means, and hasn't been talked about... It means that every time you hear about yet another country air dropping aid into Gaza, that's done with Israel's permission. And there are way more countries permitted to do this than refused. This is one of many things that should make it clear that Israel is NOT targeting regular Gazans, and is making every possible effort to make sure they are getting humanitarian aid, while trying to minimize how much this aids Hamas (and in that sense, prolongs the war).

These are brothers Neria and Daniel Sharabi.

On Oct 7, they were at the Nova music festival. Not only did they survive Hamas' massacre, they also helped to save others. Since then, they've started a fund to help the survivors, and in order to raise money, they've been traveling abroad, telling their story, mostly to Jewish communities. A couple of days ago, they were traveling to Manchester, in the UK, when they were asked at the airport upon arrival what their religion was. They recount that after disclosing they were Jews and what they were there to do, they encountered hostile reactions, including being told (according to a TV interview I heard with them), "We don't like what you're here to do," and "We have to make sure that you are not going to do here what you are doing in Gaza." They were detained for a couple of hours, before being allowed in. The brothers said they're convinced this was motivated by antisemitism based on being questioned about their religion. The incident is said to be investigated.

This is 40 years old Amit Soussana.

She was kidnppaed to Gaza from her home in kibbutz Kfar Azza, and among the hostages released in late November. A lot of Israelis remember her as the hostage who was captured on film trying to fight off the men taking her, with no less than 7 of them (yes, Israelis have counted) involved in her abduction:

We've had private testimonies from Israelis about having been raped, we've had public testimonies from Israeli who have seen the physical evidence of the Hamas rapes, we've had public testimonies of Israelis who have witnessed those rapes, and we've had public testimonies of hostages, who've heard from their fellow captives about the sexual abuse the latter have gone through. All that wasn't enough for some people, who continued to deny Hamas' sexual violence. Now, Amit Soussana is the first Israeli to come forward and publicly talk about the sexual assault she had suffered at the hands of Hamas. Her testimony has been published in the New York Times, and for anyone without a subscription, other publications have quoted parts of it, like Times of Israel. A part of me really hates that Amit might have felt compelled to speak because of the doubt cast at raped Jews. Another part thinks that for the second time, she is showing outstanding bravery. And yet another finds it hard to believe that this will make a difference. Those who are dead set on not believing Jews, essentially calling us all liars, will do the same to her, and when they do, I hope she won't have to witness that firsthand. But in a sense, if their doubt is indeed the reason why she felt she had to speak up publicly, then it's clear that there's already been damage done to the victims of Hamas' sexual violence.

This is 35 years old Uriel Baruch with his son.

Uriel was married, and a father of two. He loved techno music, and on Oct 7 was attending the Nova music festival along with a friend, Michael Yoav, who was murdered there (his body was found shot in the car in which the two were trying to escape). Uriel was kidnapped. Yesterday, the army was able to confirm to the family that Hamas had murdered him while in captivity, and is still holding Uriel's body hostage. The number of Israeli hostages in Gaza is 134, and the official confirmations of death indicate that no more than 98 are still alive, though some count Hamas claims as well, in which case no more than 96 are. May Uriel's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #resources

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uma1ra · 9 months

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SUBHAN'ALLAH, THIS TEXT CONTAINS VERY INFORMATIVE KNOWLEDGE FOR ALL!! READ & SPREAD IT AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, IT WILL BE SADQA-E-JARIAH FOR YOU AND ME.

1-Akhi - Brother

2-Ukhti - Sister

3-JazakAllah khair - May Allah give you Ajar/Sawab for your deed.

4-Ma'Shaa'Allah - As God has willed.

5-HayakAllah - May Allah give you life.

6-BarakAllahu Feek - May Allah put baraka in what you are doing.

7-Wa feeka barakallahu - and May Allah bless you. (in response to Barakallahu Feek)

8-Wa iyyakum - And to you

9-Alhamdulillah - Praise be to Allah

10-Allah - God

11-Allahu Akbar - Allah is Most Great

12-Amanah - Trust

13-Assalamu Alaikum - Peace be upon you--the "official" Islamic greeting.

14-Assalamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh - "Peace and the Mercy and Blessings of God be upon you" Extended form of the above.

16-Astaghfir Allah - I seek forgiveness from Allah (used when mentioning something that goes against the standards of Islam)

17-Ayah/Ayat - Qur'anic verse

18-Bid`ah - Innovation, addition to the religion's essentials

19-Bukhari - One of the most noted compilers of hadith. His collection is 20-known as Sahih Bukhari

21-Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Rahim - In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, Most Merciful

23-Da'wa - Invitation (for humankind to Islam)

24-Du`aa - Supplication

25-Eid - Islamic holiday

26-Fatwa - Islamic legal ruling

27-Fiqh - Islamic law as interpreted by scholars

28-Fitnah - Corruption and disorder, also temptation

29-Hadith - A report of a saying or deed of the Prophet

30-Haj - Pilgrimage

31-Halal - Allowed (per Islamic law)

32-Haram - Forbidden (per Islamic law)

33-Hazrat/Hadrat - Honorable

34-Hijab - Modest way of behavior and dress (including head scarf for women)

35-Imam - Leader

36-Iman - Faith

37-In Shaa Allah - If God wills. (Used when talking about a future event)

38-Injeel - The scripture sent down to Prophet Issa (Jesus)

39-Isnad - Chain of transmitters, the list of people who successively narrated a given hadith

40-Jannah - Paradise

41-JazakAllah Khair - May God grant you what is good. (Often used instead of "Thank you")

42-Jihad - Striving for Islam, whether by peaceful or violent means

43-Jinn - Unseen beings, who, like humans, are given the power to choose between right and wrong

44-Kafir - One who denies the truth. Literally, one who "covers" the truth (sometimes applied to non-Muslims).

45-Khalifah - Caliph: Leader of Muslim nation

46-Khilafah - Caliphate

47-Khutba - Sermon

48-Kufr - Denial of the Truth, rebellion against God

49-La Ilaha Illa Allah - There is no deity but God

50-Ma Shaa Allah - What God has willed! (Usually used to express wonder at Allah's creation)

51-Madhhab - School of jurisprudential thought

52-Makruh - Detested, but not forbidden (per Islamic law)

53-Mandoub - Recommended, but not required (per Islamic law)

54-Mubah - Neither forbidden nor commended. Neutral (per Islamic law)

55-Mushrik - One who commits Shirk

56-Muslim - One who submits to Allah and is a follower of Islam; also, name of one of the most notable hadith scholars. His collection is known as Sahih Muslim

57-Nabi - Prophet

58-Qur'an - The Words of Allah conveyed to us by the Prophet

PBUH - Peace Be Upon Him. Same as SAW

59-RAA - (Radia Allahu Anhu/Anha.) May Allah be please with him/her

60-Ra-sool - Messenger (Prophet to whom a scripture is revealed)

61-Rasool Allah - Messenger of God (used to refer to Prophet Muhammad)

62-Sahaba - Companions of Prophet. Singular is "Sahabi"

63-Sahih - "Sound in isnad." A technical attribute applied to the "isnad" of a hadith

64-Salaam - Peace. An abbreviated version of the Islamic greeting

65-Salaat - Prayer

66-SAW - (Salla Allahu Alaihi Wa Sallam.) Peace Be Upon Him

67-Sawm/Siyam - Fasting

68-Seerah/Sirah - History of the Prophet's life

69-Shahadah - Bearing witness that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is His Messenger.

70-Shari'ah - Divine Law

71-Sheikh - Scholar (or any elder and/or respected man)

72-Shirk - Associating partners (e.g. helpers, other gods) with Allah

73-Shura - Consultation among Muslims

74-Subhan Allah - "Glory be to God"

75-Sunna/Sunnah - Tradition of the Prophet

76-Surah/Sura - A Chapter in the Qur'an

78-Tafsir - Interpretation

79-Tawraat - The scripture sent down to Prophet Musa (Moses).

80-Ulama - Religious scholars

81-Umma - Nation, community.

82-Ustadh - Teacher

83-Wassalaam - And peace. It means "goodbye"

84-Zakat - Required charity

#islam #quran #islamic #muslim #islamicquotes #pakistan #islamic group #muslim community #muslim countries

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omgellendean · 2 months

Text

List of Palestinian fundraisers I was asked to share

Help Fidaa and her children

I am Fidaa from Gaza. I am 29 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve his family. I am married and a mother of two children, Sila, who is two years old, and a child named Muhammad Amr, 2 months old. I gave birth to him during the war and in very harsh conditions that no human being can bear. I moved from the hospital directly to the tent, and I cannot describe the extent of the suffering and difficulty of living in the tent

Wafaa and her family

Hello, I am Wafa from Gaza I would like to take just two minutes of your time to share my story with you I am Wafa, I am 29 years old. I live under the bombardment and constant aggression against Gaza Here we struggle with a life of constant death and loss I lost a large part of my family. We also lost our house in which we used to live We were displaced more than 10 times from one place to another, searching for safety In fact, there is no safe place

Help Musab and his family

Hello, my name is Musab. I am 22 years old and was studying medical equipment engineering at Al-Azhar University in Gaza. I had simple dreams, hoping my life would continue as I wished. I worked hard, hoping to build a future for myself and my family. But everything changed suddenly due to the war that devastated my life and my family, Even my pets.

Help Ahmed to get essential needs

I write to you with a heavy heart burdened by concerns and hardships, seeking your assistance with an important matter regarding ahmed family in Gaza., they desperately need assistance. Please help ahmed evacuate his family, his wife and 3 children out of Gaza to Egypt so they can have a chance at living in peace, free from fear and oppression. Egypt is asking for 5000$ for each person to allow them to enter the country. We plan to use the initial funds to get them out and the remaining to help with their relocation including visas, travel fees, housing, food, etc. Once they are in Egypt and in safety, we will plan to help them with relocation.

Help Bilal

I am Bilal Abed Rabou, and I stand before you as a survivor of five wars, an academic student at Al-Azhar University and a software developer from the besieged Gaza Strip. I witnessed the devastating effects of these conditions firsthand.

Help the Munna Tashmali Family Rebuild Their Home and Future

The Munna Tashmali family has faced unimaginable hardship and loss. Their home in Gaza has been destroyed three times by the wars on Gaza in 2014, 2021, and now again in 2024. Each time they have painstakingly rebuilt their lives and their home, but this time, they have lost not only their home but also any source of income. The compensation for their 2021 home destruction is still pending, and now they face the devastating reality of losing their home once more.

Help Heba and his family to survive their life

Hello, I am Heba Al-Anqar, 21 years old, a university student. My university was suspended due to the war. I am writing about my family: my father Bakr (54 years old), my mother Alaa (46 years old), and my sisters Aya (18 years old), Amal (15 years old), Muhammad (13 years old), and Maryam (8 years old). We have faced many challenges in this war, from the destruction of our home to the famine we continue to suffer in northern Gaza.

A Brighter Future for Aya and Her Familyv

I am Aya living in North Gaza with my three children, and we are facing starvation in the northern region. We have moved more than 13 times trying to find a safe place, but there is no safety anywhere. I am asking for your help to protect my children and get us out of this imminent danger

Support Ashraf's Family Rebuild Their Lives

My name is Ashraf Alanqar, and I am 30 years old. My wife, Widad Issa, and I have a one-and-a-half-year-old son named Bakr. We used to live peacefully in the Al-Shuja’iya neighborhood, in a house we built just a week before the war began. I worked as a farmer and owned a large chicken farm that provided for my family. We urgently need your help. I am asking for your support to fund this campaign to move my family to a safe place, provide us with a proper home, and ensure we have enough food, water, and medical care.

Help Nadaa and her elderly parents to get out of the war

My name is Nadaa, and I live in Gaza with my mother and father. We're facing difficult days in the war; our house was bombed, and we had to flee to the south. My father, an elderly man, can't handle displacement. My parents are elderly and need special care and daily medications that I cannot provide due to the current situation. I am doing everything I can to take care of them, but the situation is worsening day by day.

#my post #palestine

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lilys-of-the-valley · 2 years

Text

Aemond Targaryen comforting a female reader on her menstrual cycle! (There'll be mentions of blood and cramps and all that stuff we women have to go through. Also, there is a slight mention of pregnancy and babies) You and Aemond are newly married in this. 🌸

You're awoken earlier than you would've liked by a horrible yet familiar cramping in your lower belly and warm sticky feeling between your legs. You stifle a groan of pain as you try to pry yourself out of Aemonds grip, his arms that were wrapped around your midsection tightened as you tried to move and it only increased the pain you felt; you grimaced at the pain and he heard and felt your discomfort, releasing you from his grip and sitting upright. "What's the matter? Are you hurt? Why did you grimace?"

His questions come out quick, and his one good eye bores into yours with a fierce, almost worry, you didn't exactly want to tell him, not yet at least, so you lied. "Nothing, my dragon, just an upset stomach, I fear..."

His eye narrows and you feel yourself almost cracking under his gaze but he relents, looking away as he gets out of your shared bed, you sigh quietly and go to get up too, but your eyes widen when you see the blood stains on your white nightgown, between your legs at the back, you quickly check the bedsheets, Aemond watching as you do confused as he tries his best to figure put what's wrong. You sigh again when you notice you hadn't bled on your sheets. However, you do notice Aemonds confusion as he stares at you. You give him a nervous half smile, the bloody mark was towards the wall so he couldn't see it but you had to move past him to the bathing room.

Aemond can tell for sure that something about you is not as it should be, and he tries asking you again. "Issa jorrāelagon kostilus ivestragon issa skoros ails ao. Nyke līs gīmigon." (My love, please tell me what ails you. I must know)

Your heart flutters at his affectionate use of high valyrian, and you gnaw at your bottom lip before deciding to just be done with the hiding. You blurt out quickly, never making eye contact with him. "I'm on my moon cycle. It's started, and I'm blooming. If you want to leave the room while i clean up, then I won't be upset"

Aemond looks at you with one wide blue eye, his gaze is so piercing that you're scared he's going to get mad, but you should have known better, he moves around the bed and encases you in his arms, allowing you to lean against his slim yet sturdy body, breathing in his scents and just enjoying the feeling of his warmth. "ȳdra daor sagon sīr dovodedha, ao gīmigon nyke would dōrī henujagon aōha paktot whilst ao issi dealing rūsīr such nykeā mirre, ȳdra daor worry issa dōna ember nyke jāhor dohaeragon ao during aōha blooming." (Don't be so silly, you know I would never leave your side whilst you are dealing with such a thing, don't worry my sweet ember I will assist you during your blooming.)

You melt again at his sweet words of comfort. You nod and finally pull yourself from his warn embrace. You look up at him and say softly. "I wish to bathe, so I can wash the blood away..."

He nods and wraps his arms around your waist, his big hand resting on your lower back, guiding you over to the large copper tub in the bathing room, he releases you and he says. "I will fetch some maids to bring you water, I will help you bathe my love, do not worry"

You blush deeply. He had seen you bare before, but bathing together was just so much more intimate. You had no time to protest, however, as he strides out of the room to find maids, he returns after a few moments and some serving girls rush in, holding large bowls of steaming hot water from the kitchens. They fill the bathtub then bow before leaving you and Aemond alone I the room.

You smile move over to Aemond, who is checking the temperature of the water, the steam rising from the tub shows that its definitely warm. "It is just the right temperature, the heat should soothe your muscles."

He says whilst his hand stretches back towards you, gently resting on top of your sensitive and slightly bloated lower belly, he rubs it in small soothing circles as he empties a few drops of a sweet smelling oil into the water.

Once he's finished he stands I front of you, cupping your cheeks gently, he smiles slightly and then he kisses your lips gently, you return it like a school girl in love, his kisses always made you feel weak in the knees. The moment was ruined by a wave of cramps and the feeling of fresh blood moving down your inner thighs, you fluster and grimace.

Aemond takes the cues perfectly well and he helps you out of your nightgown, he doesn't care that your inner thighs are messy with blood, he doesn't care that your stomach is bloated slightly and he doesn't care that your body just seems so much more sensitive, his only priority is you.

He helps you into the water, it feels hot, almost too hot but Aemond insists that this temperature is perfect for your body, you sink into the water and sure enough the heat does wonders for your cramps. You look up and see that he's undressing too, he takes off his night clothes and he moves behind you, climbing into the tub and settling himself behind your body. His hands move around to your waist, he's gentle, oh so gentle, and he pulls you gently, pulling you to lean back against him.

He hums in approval and grabs the rag that's by the tub, he begins to getnyl wash your back, your arms, every inch of your body he can reach, you can feel your muscles relaxing and your body slumping as he works and soon your almost asleep, the sound of his voice rouses you however.

"You can always tell me when you are blooming, my love, I won't criticise, it is natural it means all is well within you. It means that when the time comes our baby will be well looked after inside of you."

He says it teasingly, but it still makes you blush. He chuckles and continues to bathe you gently. After bathing together, he stays in bed with you all day, clearing his schedule of princely duties to lay by your side all day. 🩷

Note: I got a little carried away with this one, so it's quite long, but I hope this was alright :) 🌸🩷

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

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f1daydreamers · 1 year

Text

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, Reader being very torn, lots of obliviousness, fluff, emosh, implies smut but none of it, little bit of back and forth but issa good ending ofc :')

Word Count: 4.1k words (15 mins reading time avg)

…

"What is it?"

Tom crosses his arms over his chest, glancing back at Lance and eyeing him suspiciously through the car door window.

He's occupied with his phone but his foot is tapping impatiently against the floor mat in the car.

"Now would be a great time to spit it out," you regain his attention through gritted teeth. Your patience was wearing thin, you had somewhere to be and your ex was holding you up frustratingly slowly.

He lets out a sigh, his eyes darting over your face. He seems on edge.

"I was on Instagram yesterday," his gaze fell to the concrete pavement underfoot and you shrug.

"Congratulations." You retort sarcastically and Tom brings one foot forward towards you, "did you really think nothing was going to come of it?"

You furrow your brows, "come out of what?"

He tuts, finding your stubbornness to read between the lines all the more familiar from when you used to date.

"You and Lance on a 'romantic getaway', maybe you've fooled everyone else but you haven't fooled the press." He air-quoted with his fingers and you felt like the wind had knocked the breath out of your lungs.

"I-I don't see your point." You raise a subconscious barrier, certainly overcome with the realisation that agreeing to speak to him was a big mistake.

Your jaw clenches and you resist the urge to look around you, as if you were going to find a camera blinking back.

"It got online, Y/N. Started from Daisy's Instagram story to the most trending topic on Twitter." He explains, with a level of smugness in his voice that you can't help squinting your eyes at.

He caught you in a lie, but right now, that was the least of your worries.

Fists form by your sides and panic begins settling into your chest. "And how did it get on Twitter in the first place?" The distaste in your tone when you bit back was surely evident.

Bit by bit, you start to feel a sense of chaos enveloping you, like you've somehow misplaced the capacity to hold everything together.

He shrugs mutely but the quirk of his lip makes you think he had a bigger part to play in this fuck-up disguised as a Monday morning.

As your gaze falls, you avoid meeting his eyes again, even when he nudges your arm to recover your waning attention. Detached, you're occupied in crafting a plan to get through the remaining six hours you have left with Lance.

Once that time is up, you'll be free from any scrutiny, whether it be from the media or your family, and finally be done with him.

With all of this.

...

You shouldn't have been so disengaged but you couldn't help it, your thumb endlessly scrolling through Twitter, confirming what Tom had been telling you earlier.

You'd seen only one or two tweets unrelated to the topic since you opened the app a few minutes ago.

You swallow, locking your phone and looking up from your lap. You try to involve yourself in your siblings' conversation but fail miserably, your wandering mind not allowing you to do such a thing as ignore this mess.

Lance is laughing at a video Kevin is showing him, and you wonder if he's seen anything about it yet.

He'd been on his phone in the car after your conversation with your ex had ended, and the object had been with him ever since. You were at the very least surprised nobody had even messaged him yet.

Unless he was playing dumb.

"Y/N, what time you heading out?" Your mind is in a bit of a scramble when your mother perks up with a question, meeting her eyes, you can't help but stutter.

Lance steps in.

"8 o'clock. We're both heading back to the factory." You're grateful but he eyes you questionably, you've had tougher questions than that come at you this weekend.

He smiles at the irony but you don't return it, looking away.

His eyebrows knit together and he presumes whatever your ex had told you was what'd gotten you in a distant mood, he makes a mental note to ask you about it later.

You can feel his eyes trained on you until your brother whisks him away into another conversation.

...

The ride back home's quiet, with the radio airing fresh songs whose lyrics you're not entirely familiar with. However, their tunes are infectious, prompting your fingers to rhythmically tap along.

Lance fidgets with the leather material of the steering wheel, glancing at you every now and again.

After a while, he stretches his hand to the volume knob, reducing it. You sigh inwardly, knowing that he'd picked up on your subdued mood at breakfast, which meant the upcoming conversation was quite a predictable one.

"What did your ex want to tell you?" Lance asks, his voice curious. You press your lips together, absently twisting your cuff bangle around your wrist.

"Nothing." Perhaps if you avoided the topic for long enough, he'd drop it and choose to never touch on it again.

"You spoke for a while. He didn't say anything?" He persisted.

"Has Grace reached out to you?" You pivot away from his previous question by planting another in its place about the team's communications manager.

Lance seems confused as to why it's relevant to the conversation but answers nonetheless.

"Grace? No. Why would she?" You shake your head, not commenting further as you try to muster up a plan and the courage to tell him the truth.

You desperately hoped to avoid his anger, not wanting to sow any seeds of regret in his mind about joining you this weekend.

It's almost comical how rapidly things have unravelled since this morning.

As Lance parks a few feet away from your open driveway, you swiftly step out of the car, leaving him to catch up.

He manages to close the car door just as you round the gate, moving briskly to ascend the patio steps.

He jogs to try and keep with you, skipping the middle step and succeeding when his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, keeping you from reaching into your bag for the house key.

"Y/N, what's bothering you?" He asks curtly.

Your jaw tightens, the conversation with your ex was replaying in your mind like a relentless torture, preventing you from forgetting it no matter how desperately you wanted to.

An uncertain feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you release a shaky breath, deciding to be straightforward.

"He said that-" Your words hang unfinished as you glance up at the front door swinging open. Your sister looks up from her phone, holding a plastic bottle in her other hand.

"Looks like you didn't manage to beat the traffic after all, huh?" She quips, tucking her phone into her jean pocket.

Her gaze shifts between the two of you, a hint of suspicion in her eyes, focusing momentarily on Lance's hand wrapped around your wrist.

He eases it, and Daisy casually tosses the plastic bottle into the recycling bin.

You offer an awkward smile. "Yeah, must be lunchtime at work," you explain. Daisy nods, stepping aside to allow you and Lance to pass before closing the door behind her.

"I'm going to get back to packing," you add, slipping off your flats and hopping onto the first step of the staircase.

You notice Daisy raising her finger at Lance, and you swiftly intervene, "Dais, he didn't do anything." You assert and she lowers her finger back to her side.

Despite being younger, she's remarkably swift to defend her siblings whenever necessary, often disregarding external opinions, even if those opinions are attempting to correct her misjudgement.

"Better not have," she mutters, giving Lance a once-over before heading off to the kitchen.

You release a sigh as the door creaks shut, avoiding his lingering gaze and resuming your retreat up to your bedroom to finish off packing your suitcase.

...

You delicately place your rings back into the small gaps amidst the cushions of the jewellery box, your throat tightening as the sound of Lance adjusting his gym bag reaches your ears from the distant corner of the room.

Silence hung between you both ever since he ascended the stairs a few minutes after you had entered your room.

Passing a hand through his hair, he looked up at you while you zipped up the jewellery box. You shifted to the opposite side of the bed, unlatching your closed suitcase then bending down to retrieve the laundry basket, placing it on to the bed with a gentle plop.

"Can you please talk to me? Tell me the truth or even tell me a lie, but just say something," he implores. Your shoulders slumping as you methodically fold your clean laundry into your suitcase, your actions momentarily faltering.

His voice carried a note of pleading, and your continued silence only reinforced the notion that something was wrong. It went beyond the subdued atmosphere during breakfast and the unrelated question in the car.

“The press knows, Lance.” You say firmly.

"What?" he responds, though he clearly heard every word.

You observe the shift in his expression, the gentleness giving way to a hardened look. Your words momentarily escape you, leaving you with an urge to resume folding, using it as a feeble distraction.

“What do you mean the press knows?” He says concisely and you shut your eyes, your gaze facing downward.

“About this, us, I don’t know.” your voice wavers as you try to explain..

“He told you that?” No name was mentioned but the contempt in his voice gives room for enough assumption to be made.

“Yes,” you confirm quietly.

“Of course he did.” He mutters under his breath but you hear it anyway. Your eyebrows knit together subtly, “what do you mean?”

He locks eyes with you, and if you said that the chill in his gaze didn't give you a slight shiver of intimidation, you'd be lying.

“What did I ask you when he showed up at the door? I asked you why you were still bothering with him?” He stresses breathily, overwhelmed by the situation.

“I told you it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know this is what he’d tell me.” You counter.

“He probably had a part to play in it,” Lance assumes and you shake your head, “there’s nothing to gain. With Tom, it’s all talk. Going to the press just - it doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense, how is he conveniently the only one who knows about it?” He lowers his voice and you blink, averting your gaze. He had a point.

“I’ll talk to Grace, this’ll be fixed.” You try to assure him, picking your phone up from the bedside table.

“By doing what, telling everyone this was a lie?” He bristles and a twinge of pain overcomes your chest.

“Guess that was the whole point anyway.” he grinds out the last part of his sentence in a harsh whisper, his jaw clenching. You stiffen, his words carry a sting with them.

The realisation of the situation hits you, what he had mentioned to your mother about the challenges of maintaining a relationship in the public eye had practically come to fruition.

Though a relationship was far from what you had.

“This was all fake, wasn’t it?” you murmur, directing the question more towards yourself than the man standing before you.

"What?" He asks, having caught only a faint mumble escaping your lips. You shake your head, swallowing your words, focused on not letting them slip out again.

…

“Okay, yeah, we’re uh, we’re on our way soon.” You conclude the call, a small sense of relief washing over you after speaking to Grace.

She'd appeared relatively composed despite you having explained the situation to her in an undeniable panic.

You slide the phone face down on to the counter in the bathroom, leaning your head on the door, hoping that no one needed to relieve themselves in the next five minutes it would probably take for you to process your own thoughts.

You wince a touch as you recall the words that last fell from Lance’s mouth.

A lie was what it was, but it was strangely intense hearing it tumble from his lips.

Considering the feelings you only recently and barely had admitted to yourself and him, the weight of all of that felt as if it was coming down on you now.

But the bandage around your knee, the burden of responsibility, the dancing, the kisses, the way his gaze held you. Him. They all form as a defence argument inside your mind as you rattle through the weekend, it can't all have been fake.

You carelessly yearn for the weekend's routine – his presence, sharing laughter over the words he adopted from your uncle, the pushes into the swimming pool, the undeniable escalation of tension between you.

You realised it yesterday, though you never wanted to admit it. When his lips gravitated towards yours and his grip on your waist tightened, you realised.

You realised you’re in love with Lance Stroll. How irresponsible.

...

You quickly wipe away the tear sliding down your cheek, stealing a glance at the taxi driver who thankfully remained oblivious. You were a few minutes away from the factory, Grace emailed you this morning to call you in for a PR meeting but the topic of it was naturally foreseeable.

You hadn't yet managed to build up enough courage to text Lance, thank him for the days he wasted away to fabricate a relationship, despite it not lasting long. By the time you'd arrived back at your apartment, your sister had left you a few messages, screenshots of her Twitter feed.

She had reluctantly agreed not to inform your parents. The situation was already fraught with complexity, and having your parents involved would only make matters worse.

You offer a small, not overly enthusiastic smile as you step into the meeting room and catch sight of Lance, Grace, and the familiar members of the communications department all awaiting your arrival.

While Grace briefed everyone on the purpose of the meeting, the only faces that didn't register surprise were yours, hers, and his. You kept your gaze directed downward, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, your expression revealing nothing.

"Y/N, you mentioned you had something to share," Grace prompts, and you lift your gaze, nodding slightly. You take a moment to gauge the atmosphere in the room before you begin speaking.

"Yeah, thank you. I just wanted to say I'm uh I'm sorry for this. Perhaps I was being reckless for not thinking about the damage it might do beforehand, it was only supposed to be a simple favour." You admit, accompanied by a nervous smile.

Lance glances at you, his hands diving deeper into his pockets, inadvertently tearing apart the tissues crammed within them with his fingers.

You couldn't find any faults in their strategy to handle the potential public backlash, though at the moment, there wasn't much of it. However, Grace didn't omit the fact that the fallout could arise if indirect communication between the team and the fans was completely severed.

Several team members chimed in, contributing potential pros and cons to each of the strategies Grace had outlined. After around an hour of deliberation, with back-and-fourths aplenty, the group finally settled on the most suitable course of action.

“Lance, anything to add?” He broke his gaze away and looked up at the manager, “no. Sounds good.”

You acknowledge the fact that he seems entirely disinterested in what was happening in front of him but for good reason. You were the one who dragged him into this so in turn, it seemed unfair that he was one who had to bear the consequences of dealing with it as well.

When the meeting wrapped up, Grace allowed everyone to leave the room but you. You hoped this wouldn’t be a reprimand but you can’t deny that you had been holding a faint expectation of one.

“Y/N, I’m not that old,” your eyebrows draw together in confusion and she continues, “but I can pick up on a few things every now and again.”

You struggle to maintain the conversation, your lips parting as you respond, "I-I'm not sure what you mean."

"I'm certain this past weekend has been quite eventful, full of surprises," she emphasises, and perhaps you're leaning on the side of obliviousness because you still can't quite grasp the significance of her words.

Seemingly filled with riddles, you couldn't help but think.

“There’s a way that this entire situation could be fixed before we’d even have to step in.” Grace concedes, her words leaving a weighty impression on you, their meaning gradually becoming clearer as her sentences unfold.

“I see the way he looks at you,” she confesses quietly and you swallow.

Your gaze drops and her eyes narrow, “what is it that you’re not telling me?” Her attention to detail leaves you slightly frustrated, yet you can't help but acknowledge that it's this very trait which helps her excel at her job.

You waver in your decision, but you'd been carrying this weight within you for nearly a week. Thus, when the words begin to spill out of your mouth, you don't feel any remorse for your lack of restraint.

“He told me it was a lie. How can I tell someone who told me this was practically bullshit that I lo-” You cut yourself off, the words catching in your throat as you shift uneasily on your feet, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

"Do one better. Tell him the truth."

...

The Friday morning, two days after your brief conversation with Grace left you realising that she was right. The words you needed to express couldn't linger unsaid any longer. They had been gnawing at you, a constant replay of Lance's words echoing in your mind.

She appeared rather pleased that you chose to heed her suggestion when you approached her in the office. With her help, you managed to secure permission from the chief engineer, granting you the opportunity to visit the pit garage during track time at Silverstone.

Deciding to give him some time for his laps, you instead opted to stand on the balcony directly above the track, taking in the view. As you watched, nerves arose again upon seeing the engineers guide his car back into the garage.

It takes you a bit of time to reach the garage, as it's quite a distance to cover. However, the absence of crowds and the limited presence of other teams in the paddock make your journey a little quicker. You glance around his section of the garage, trying to spot him, but it's him who spots you first.

His smile wavers, and his ongoing conversation with an engineer comes to an abrupt stop. His race suit hangs around his waist, and his helmet rests on the counter behind him.

Navigating past a couple of engineers, you approach him, and he moves toward you with measured steps. His gaze roves across your features, seeking clues about your unexpected presence, but your expression reveals little beyond a gentle demeanour.

You take a breath through your nose, forcing a smile to greet him instead of merely gazing in silence. It's the first time you've been in such close proximity to him since the wedding day, a time that holds positive memories for a change.

"I, uh," your words falter in your throat, and you clench your jaw in an attempt to gather yourself. He remains silent, admiring.

“Do you have a minute?” You ask, a little quieter. He nods curtly, prompting you to follow him, probably to a place that wasn’t full of engineers and various personnel.

You allow him to guide you into what appears to be a communal drivers' room, presumably accessible to any driver in need. Once you're inside, he shuts the door behind you.

The confined space of the room doesn't escape your notice, but you choose not to focus on it. Instead, you concentrate on gathering your words.

Eventually, the only thing that does manage to come out is, “was it all a lie?” You ask in a whisper, though audible enough for him to hear.

Lance lifts his eyebrows in surprise, clearly not anticipating the direction that the conversation has taken. It seems your question caught him off guard.

As he remains silent, you interpret his lack of response as an invitation to elaborate on what you're asking, “what you said. There being something between us.”

He approaches you in the small space, his lips parting as he searches for the right words. “You know it wasn’t a lie.” You exhale a quiet sigh of relief, the similar emotions you’d been feeling the night on the dance floor stirring within you again.

It was a warm feeling. A comforting one.

His presence evokes memories of that night at the club, a feeling of protection enveloping you as if he were a shield of safety. However, the current proximity feels incomplete, lacking his touch on any part of your body – not around your waist, not on your arms, nor on your hips.

Perhaps, after pulling him into your mess, you deserved this sense of deprivation, as if it were a consequence of your own actions.

Several moments pass in silence within the room, a lapse in time that you're only drawn out of when he places his hand on your neck, his thumb gently tracing your jawline.

The touch pulls you back to the present, and his gaze moves from your eyes to your lips, his intention clear.

“I think I might go crazy if I don’t tell you this in the next ten seconds,” you breathily admit and Lance’s eyebrow quirks up in curiosity.

“Want me to start counting?” You scoff, a small smile tugging at your lips as you shake your head. His lack of seriousness manages to alleviate the tension slightly, making the impending conversation a touch more manageable.

"I, uh," you stutter, and he senses your nervousness, granting you a bit more time even though the ten seconds were swiftly ticking away.

"I'm in love with you," you blurt out, and a slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips. His gaze locks onto yours, the tension between you escalating threefold more than the time you had left things unresolved by the swimming pool all those days ago.

"I, uh, I didn't quite catch that," he replies and your eyes narrow. You tilt your head, offering him a silent caution. He grins, "what?"

"Don't. Don't make me do it again," you warn him playfully. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and you can't help but smile in response.

"Why? Did you not mean to say-" Refusing to let him complete his sentence, you fist his shirt in your hand and pull him towards you. Your lips crash together in a fervent kiss, and he yields to your lead as you guide him backward until his back meets the wooden cupboard.

His hands tenderly cradle your cheeks before sliding down to your waist, drawing you closer to him. You succumb to the sensation of his touch, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your top. The warmth of his palm against your bare skin rekindles a familiar sensation within you, one you had sorely missed.

A soft moan escapes your lips as his hand exerts pressure on your skin. "Lance," you murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly, but only by a few inches. His hand shifts to your back, preventing you from retreating any further.

Guilt washes over you as you come to the realisation that you could have had this moment much earlier. "I wish I had listened to you. I wish I hadn't heard him out," you confess, whispering.

"Hey," he murmurs, his touch gentle as he traces over the skin you only ever want him to touch. His gaze meets yours, and his eyes reflect a desire that you're certain he had kept hidden until now.

“I’m way too fucking in love with you to give a shit about that.. prick.” You chuckle softly, but his gaze remains fixed on you.

"I'd offer to take you out to dinner, but that seems like too small a repayment now," he says, and you blink, acutely attuned to his words.

“What do you have in mind?” Your fingers gently threading through his hair as your hand settles at the back of his neck.

"A few things," he replies, his smile warm and suggestive.

He continues and you blush when you feel his thumb fiddling with the band of your bra. “Just me and you, what do you say to another weekend away?”

...

A/N: AND THAT IS A WRAP! Seriously though, thank you all so much for your support during this lil mini-series, it’s truly been so motivating <33 I’ll be hard at work writing again after a lil break so this is a reminder to make you sure you take care of yourself too, and put yourself first!!

Mwah, love you all loads ;)

Masterlist

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @chonkybonky @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @lxnceclercs @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @hockey-racing-fubol @honeyric3 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @rd14 @secretlyangrymagazine @love4lando @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @mloyer @alesainz @cinnamonroll2003 @nikki01234 @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

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lillyfics · 1 year

Text

Soaring through the Skies || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations in the journey of your love with Aemond.

PLS!!! READ AUTHOR'S NOTE UNTIL " :) " IF YOU DON'T WANT THE ENDING OF THE SERIES TO BE SPOILED!!!

Author's Note: This is literally my first ever fic so don't be too harsh :) The only reason I am writing this fic is that I have read too much Aemond x reader fics where he cheats on with Alys and there is no happy ending for the reader. Like why does every fic I read with that topic just breaks my heart :((( Anyway I decided to write a similar story where the reader gets as close to a happy ending as possible :)

Chapter 1 is a lot of characterization and very little plot :-))

TW: swearing, sexual violence, angst, heartbreak, violence, child death, infidelity, death, references to smut

Chapter 1 (WC: 2159)

His eyes enchant you. After all those years spent at Dragonstone, you thought you would forget what it felt like to be in his presence. But at that moment, when his eyes met yours at the training ground, you felt yourself sucked back into the whirlpool of emotions with an even greater force. Initially, you thought you were the only one whose heart was stuck in a storm, but you later learned that Aemond’s heart was in a similar situation too. During the courting period, he confessed about the love he held for you too. At that time, you felt warmth. You allowed yourself to hope that someone would keep you afloat. But now, you were mortified and nearly ran back to the castle and kept yourself busy under the guise of preparing yourself for the petition. Your sisters kept prodding you about your nerves, but they thought it was just jitters about being back in court. Your father, the rogue prince, was the only one who noticed your unease, but kept silent. There are many things you love about your father, but you believe that his best quality was his ability to understand you. Growing up without a mother, he was your sole guiding lamp in the dark abyss that the world is. But he also didn’t believe in commanding you your every step in life, as he once said “One day you will fly on your own issa tala, and I wouldn’t be able to be there when you are soaring the skies.” He also reminded you that you are the Lady of Runestone and one day you would be a queen in your own right. Knowing that interrogating you would do no good, he just left you alone to your thoughts and knew that would come to him when in need of help.

With everything that was happening, you couldn’t think Vaemond Velaryon’s petition could get worse, but as every minute grows you are proven wrong. It finally ended when half of his head rolled on the floor, courtesy of your father. This day was a strenuous one, and not just for you. Just when you thought everything was resolved the day has had its fill of surprises, the king commanded a betrothal. A betrothal between you and Aemond. While your eyes were filled with shock, his were…blank. It held nothing. The wedding was to happen in two weeks, in an effort to elongate the period of peace between the green queen and the heir to the iron throne you guess.

Began the courting period, spinning with emotions. You were just learning to spread your wings, you can’t fly yet. Your time had been cut short by a person who did not know you, nor care enough about what you felt and saw you just as a piece in this grand game of cyvasse. You also understand that as piece, you are not one of those that commanded, but one of those that served. Knowing that conflicting with this choice would bring you nothing but trouble, you moved forward to acceptance. This is what it is. A habit your father tried to break you out of. He believed that we are a true pair of father and child in the way we had similar flames stoking us. The way your cunningness seared through you that made you capable of outsmarting your siblings. The way determination gilded you to achieve a task that your mind commands you to. The only flaw of yours is acceptance.

Then the period of courting begins. The fact it is even called that makes your stomach ache with laughter. A courting with no choice you believed to be. During this period, you go through a plethora of phases. After the initial shock to acceptance stage, curiosity won over. Curious about Aemond. You remembered that his eyes were devoid of emotion. Is that how he felt? Nothingness? Just a duty? You think you could live with that. Duty could sprout into comfort and then transform into love. Yet, doubts persisted. What if instead of indifference, he was against the betrothal? Did he have another love? Did he think you weren’t beautiful enough? Did he think you to be timid? You tried to make content with these doubts so that you wouldn’t be troubled in the head. If he had another love, there was no way she could hold up to you, as you are the Lady of Runestone and he, a mere second son. Aemond was anything but ambitious, someone who would seek to increase his standing. The only way his legacy would ever be part of this great game were if his heirs were to be from a powerful woman, and you are anything but not that. After the Queen, the Princess of Dragonstone, and the Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale, you were one of the women in power. Or you would be one, in the future. If concern is regarding your beauty, he is more than lucky enough to have you, the entire realm would agree on that as you were deemed a beauty by both Valyrian, First Men, and the Andals’ standards. Your mixture of Royce and Targaryen blood gave you your unique features, sought upon by the entirety of the kingdom much to both your father’s pride and displeasure. On the other side, he was known as the accursed prince with one-eye, deemed scornful to be gazed upon. Yet, you never thought it that way. In your eyes, Aemond was nothing less than one of the most beautiful Valyrian gods to stroll through the realm. Even the juxtaposition of his one violet eye and one sapphire eye entices you. In theory, the mixture of your blood should be blessed with the most gorgeous babes. That is what you once dreamed of, with childish hopes. Now, uncertainty plagues you. You still don’t know how Aemond feels about the betrothal since you have yet to have a conversation with him. Even the queen and the princess are radiating happiness together as they divulge themselves in wedding planning and are genuinely positive regarding this union. Your personal opinion is that this wedding is just their excuse to spend time together. Regardless, Rhaenyra has loved you like her own and Aemond was Alicent’s favourite, so they want nothing but the best for this ceremony. From your brief interaction with Otto Hightower, you learn that even he seems to be in high spirits regarding this union. Why wouldn’t he be? The ambitious man would be joyful about gaining access to the Vale. The only ones that aren’t happy are your siblings and your father, but they have their reasons, and you couldn’t judge them for it. You will also eventually learn that their disappointment is for reasons different than you have in your mind.

As the first week comes to an end, you have your dress, venue, and acquaintance with Helaena, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor in order. Satisfaction fills you, but not enough to completely ease you. In that evening as heirlooms from Runestone finally start arriving, realization strikes you which makes you storm out to the weirwood tree. The stunning colors of the garden would usually calm you, but now nothing stops the quiet sobs that spill out of you. You never liked not knowing the future. You always carved your path. First it was the king, now it was Aemond. Lost in your misery, you sat down with hands covering your knees, staring into nothingness, as teardrops roll down your cheeks. “Are you really that miserable at the prospect of being tied to me?” Not a single whisper escaped your mouth, as you were still in the haze of surprise. You just looked at him. With no answer, Aemond made a choice and decided to take a seat close to you, almost touching you but not. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to share your life with me”, you tried to say mirthfully, but combined with your doubtfulness it almost came out as a wince. Aemond was staggered by your response. He talked. You talked. He smiled. You smiled. This continued until the sun completely set and only the silent rustles of the leaves and the soft exhales of both of could be heard. You are now hand in hand with him, and everything is eerily calm. The calmness you hope that death would grace you with when its your time. Eventually, you were startled out of your calmness due to a rumble. Aemond looked sheepish and stated that the last meal he had was lunch and he just finished training a few minutes before he saw you by the weirwood tree. Now together, you both enter the dining hall. You also know now everything is fine. Everything will be fine.

In a week, you and Aemond grow closer. Spoke of both of your ambitions, your desires, your wishes. Even before interacting much, you knew Aemond would be a perfect co-ruler when you will eventually move to Runestone in a few years. His knowledge of history and philosophy, his commandeering outlook, and his excellent swordsmanship are qualities that would make him a wonderful consort. Ruling Runestone was something that you were less than confident about. You knew you were a just person, yet you doubted how perfect your capabilities would be. With Aemond by your side, you knew you would enrich the Vale.

As time grew closer to the wedding, you became more comfortable. At your happiness, your siblings also started displaying their happiness. While Lucerys and Rhaena were not a fan of the groom, they were able to understand that I was happy, and that makes them happy too. Even little Aegon and Viserys couldn’t stop beaming at being surrounded by festivities. It seems that everyone in the court were combusting with glee. Well everyone, except Jace and Baela. Their hatred of the groom outweighs the happiness you felt it seems. Aemond didn’t like them either, so you never bothered trying to fix that relationship. Aemond even seems to be more possessive of you in presence of Jace, almost growling when you were seen proximal to Jace. “You don’t know the way he looks at you my love.” You simply ignored the comment, thinking that Aemond’s past grudges were making him paranoid. Once again, you were proven wrong. While you and Jace are having a private conversation in your solar, probably one of your last of these kind of talks until he becomes king it seems. You couldn’t control your smiles as you reminiscent on memories of the past until Jace suddenly leaned across and kissed you. Pin drop silence spread across the chambers until Jace spoke these words “I have fallen in love with you, I am still in love with you, and I know it would be for my best to move on but I don’t think I ever will”. Still, you haven’t uttered a single word, just stared back at him. He eventually leaves the chambers, and unknown to you, that will be the very last conversation you will ever have with each other. You would be left wishing that you said something. Anything really. Anything but the empty silence so that your last memory of him could be filled with something other than guilt and regrets. The evening before the wedding, Baela helps you prepare for the celebratory dinner. Your eyes meet at the mirror. One look into her eyes lets you know that she knows. She also is aware that you know. Guilt racked through you once you realized that she wasn’t even angry with you, she understands. She is aware that she is going to face the condition that you once thought you would be the victim of. Duty instead of love. She finished fixing your hair and you turned around. You hugged her. She hugged you back. Few stray tears escaped. In the end, you are both sisters. In the end, both of you are women who have no control of their fates in the grand game of life. However, in the end, you are both dragons. You are both daughters of the rogue prince.

The wedding went without a hitch. Despite the convoluted feelings of everyone in the sept, at the exact moment your eyes meet his, yours evaporate away. The wedding was devotional. The feast was grandiose. The wedding night was…the wedding night was happy. You weren’t previously aware that happy was ever a word to describe such event but that is what you felt. Happiness. Pure bliss. You and Aemond made love. Giggled like children, made love like long lost lovers, even fed a shew tears like you were looking at a tragedy. When you woke up the next morning, you were filled with joy at the possibility that you would wake up like this every morning for the rest of your life. You could only dream.

High Valyrian Translations:

Issa tala- my daughter

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #angst with a happy ending #but not for aemond

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littledollll · 1 year

Note

I’m not sure if you are taking requests but you are one of my favorite Lucifer and Larissa writers.

I want to request a Larissa/fem!outcast!reader hurt/comfort fic where the reader doesn’t enjoy penetration(it don’t feel pleasurable) and is scared to tell Larissa bc she doesn’t want her to think she’s a freak. Maybe when they finally do have sex, Larissa penetrates her and instead of telling her the reader just lets it happen and tries to get off but can’t and gets really frustrated. Larissa notices, stops and tries to get her to talk but instead the reader gets embarrassed and emotional. Insert heart to heart conversation here and cute fluffy smut after. Maybe a bit of softdom!larissa, some praise and overstim.

If you aren’t taking requests or don’t want to do this then thank for taking the time to read this

Your pleasure is mine

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: guess who wrote half way through this high as shit! this is a mix of requests,

Extra request: “Could you write a fic about R loser her virginity for the first time with Larissa and Larissa is being really gentle and taking care of her afterwards” - @maximilfslay

Warnings: praise, begging, kinda humiliation, slight overstim, brief fingering, hickeys

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Issa?” you said in a quiet tone, and she responded with a hum. You were laid between her legs, you back to her front, as you both soaked in all the comfort and care in the world, she was busying herself with reading with you just happy to be in her arms.

“I think I’m ready- no, I know I am.” You turned to look at her as you spoke. It came seemingly out of nowhere, but in reality it’s been on your mind for the past weeks.

It made Larissa pause and do a double take which you giggled at. “Are you absolutely sure? Darling you know we don’t have to, I’m happy to wait, please don’t feel pressured.”

“I don’t, I want this” you shifted to lay on her stomach, looking up at her with doe eyes. “I’m sure, issa.”

She guided you to stand at the edge of the bed and made quick work of your clothes and her own. Then sat back on the bed and pulled you over her lap.

Her hands smoothed down your body, making goosebumps appear on your skin, "Breathe my love, you've nothing to worry about. I'II be gentle." You sighed with a nod.

Larissa’s hands caressed your body, as gentle as she promised. She allowed her hands to wander your soft skin, It’s like she was analyzing every part of your body, every dip and curve, every scar and freckle. She made you feel unbelievably safe. You gasped, back arching into her her hands as they cupped your breasts and her thumbs teased your nipples.

Your hips bucking uselessly didn’t go unnoticed by Larissa. She hummed, “Feels good doesn’t it, my darling?” Her tone was knowing, you could hear the smile on her face.

“please Issa, I need you to touch me.” “Such a good girl, didn’t even have to ask you to beg.” She was so gentle, as if she was scared to break you.

Her lips looking for the most sensitive parts of your skin and paying extra close attention to those. Your soft sighs and occasional moans are what she used as a guide, she wanted this to be perfect.

Once she decided that was enough toying with you, her hands trailed between your thighs, she circled your clit a few times making you moan and push yourself closer to her, but then her hand drifted down to your entrance, thrusting two fingers into you.

You sighed, nuzzling into her neck. Trying to convince yourself to love it didnt really work much. Larissa had been studying you this whole time, you should’ve known she’d take notice.

Maybe it would be different, you thought. Her movement was gentle, getting you used to the feeling and yet nothing. It didn’t feel bad or painful, it was just not pleasurable. It was frustrating, you wanted so badly for it to suddenly feel amazing, to give her those moans and whimpers she clearly adored so much. But nothing. How would you even tell her that? Its not a conversation you ever wanted to have.

You didn’t need to say anything, as gentle as always, she pulled out, “what’s wrong, did I hurt you?” you shook your head looking away. Larissa could see tears gathering in your eyes and cupped your face making you look at her again.

“Tell me what’s wrong, pretty..” you just pulled her closer, refusing to speak. “You can’t hide into my neck forever, darling.” There was slight humor in her voice and it instantly made you feel less scared, okay, she wasn’t upset.

“We can stop if you’d like, I promise you I wouldn’t mind.” Instantly your legs wrapped around her, and you pulled away to face her. “I don’t want to stop, I want you.” Really, Larissa didn’t understand what was going through your mind, so she asked again, “will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t- understand why but, um-“ Larissa chuckled at you shyness, planting a quick kiss at the top of your head and letting you hide into her neck again. Oddly enough it did help, “You make me feel good, really good Issa. I just don’t really get any pleasure from- fingering.”

“Would’ve done you well to tell me before we even started wouldn’t it?” Giggling, you nodded. She patted your thigh, signaling you to get off her lap, “Lay back for me, darling.”

Slowly, she made her way down your body until she reached your thighs. Nipping and sucking at the skin of your inner thighs, you whined spreading your legs further.

“Patience, sweetheart, let yourself enjoy every touch.” Her arms were wrapped around your thighs as she finally met your center. Spreading your with her fingers to place a kiss on your clit. “Issa please!” you cried, bucking your hips.

Her eyes shot up to meet your own when she finally put her mouth around your clit. You groaned, hands finding their way to her head as Larissa wasted no time on teasing you once again.

Her tongue running up your slit then circling and lapping at your clit made it impossible for you to keep quiet, something which Larissa obviously had no complaints about.

You were on the edge quicker than you expected, desperately tightening your hold on Larissa’s hair to keep her on you, though she had no intentions of stopping any time soon, she carried you through your orgasm helping you ride your high though it seemed like she had plans on giving you a break anytime soon.

Her hand replaced her mouth when she shifted up to meet your lips. Tasting yourself on her lips was an off feeling but incredibly hot at the same time. You moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around Larissa’s neck once again while you grinded against her hand.

“That’s it, use my hand pretty one, take what you need. You’re doing so, so good for me.”

It hurt but it felt so good at the same time. Your body was aching for a break yet desperately moving by it’s own acorde, chasing another high. Smalls whines escaping you when Larissa went back to work on your neck. Ready to leave those red and purple marks she adored so much on you.

You practically squealed when Larissa applied more pressure, rubbing tight circles on your clit until you reached your peak again. This time squirming away from her before she could continue, making her chuckle and push you to lay back again. “No more, my dear?”

You shook your head, squeezing your legs shut. “That’s all you have to say baby. Don’t be afraid to tell me.” Larissa leaned down placing kisses all over your face, making you giggle and hide away.

“You did so good my love, so obedient and pliable. My shy girl.”

She continued on for some time, which you were too embarrassed to actually look at her the whole one she praised every last thing about you.

You enjoyed her weight against you, hearing her soft voice and se talked about things you weren’t really paying attention to, still a bit hazy. She allowed you to curl into her arms as they wrapped around you. “Get some rest sweetheart, we can worry about clean up later.”

#larissa weems #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems smut #larissa weems nevermore #gwendoline christie #principal larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #principal weems smut

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kckt88 · 10 months

Text

Ravenous.

Summary:

In the months following the birth of their daughter, Aemond and Vaera cannot seem to keep their hands off each other.

Warning(s): Little Time Skips, Swearing, Smut, Lactation Kink, Kissing Fingering, Oral Sex M/F receiving, multiple P in V encounters.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

SHAMELESS SMUT!!

Word Count: 2691.

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye, The Fallen Queen & New Beginnings.

But can be read as a one-shot.

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“I want you” muttered Vaera as she began undoing the buckles on Aemond’s leather jerkin.

“Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“Yes. Take me husband. I want to feel you inside me. It’s been so long” gasped Vara as she quickly pulled off the rest of Aemond’s clothes.

Unable to wait any longer, Aemond hooked his hands under Vaera’s arms and tossed her on the bed.

Vaera squealed playfully as she bounced on the opulent mattress.

“You’re entirely overdressed" growled Aemond, pouncing on his wife.

Vaera squealed again, as Aemond quickly wrestled her out of her clothes.

Aemond then took hold of Vaera’s wrists and held them up over her head, lying on top of her.

Vaera arched up into him, pressing against Aemond’s naked body.

“So, you want to play" purred Aemond, before running his tongue along his wife’s neck.

Aemond felt Vaera shiver beneath him and he smirked.

Aemond then descended on Vaera’s swollen lips, kissing her, while his hands roamed her soft naked body.

His hands gently caressing his wife’s milk swollen breasts.

Aemond released Vaera’s mouth and bent down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between his wife’s wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Vaera as she flung her arms over her face in embarrassment, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

“Do not feel embarrassed Issa jorrāelagon” whispered Aemond (My love).

Aemond ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suck his wife’s breasts.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaera.

“Surely you would not deprive me Issa dōna ābrazȳrys? Your mother’s milk tastes delicious” muttered Aemond softly (My sweet wife).

Vaera was arching her back, trying to rub herself against Aemond which he didn't allow.

Playing with her breasts not only made Aemond very happy but was driving Vaera totally crazy.

After a few minutes, Vaera was writhing for him and Aemond slid further down her body, spreading her thighs further apart, so he could get a good look at his sought-after prize.

“Such a pretty cock sleeve" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaera’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaera her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it Issa dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaera.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaera, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaera. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaera; her chest heaving.

Vaera was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that anyone passing their chambers would surely hear.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods he was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaera’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Vaera’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came. Soon her tense body went slack and pliant.

“I need you NOW!!”

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged up and ploughed his hard cock into Vaera’s soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" shouted Vaera, her eyes popping open from her post-orgasm haze.

"You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Vaera, her tone bordering on desperate as she thrust her hips upward towards his.

Aemond chuckled and bit down lightly on a nipple, making Vaera moan and squirm.

He started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Vaera.

"Patience, Issa zaldrīzes. This is our first time since you birthed our daughter" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Vaera’s neck (My dragon).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaera.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse and gripped him - pressing him into her harder.

“Gods, Vaera" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Vaera "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need. Make me scream, make me come. Give me your seed. I want it”.

Aemond knew exactly what Vaera was doing, but he couldn’t help himself.

Vaera wanted faster and he was going much faster now; so much for having the control in the situation. His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips.

Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Vaera was meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaera; not caring if anyone could hear them.

Vaera always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her amethyst eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Vaera clamped down around Aemond’s cock so hard he could hardly move. That, combined with how glorious Vaera looked, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“God. Vaera” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside his wife’s wet heat.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

His wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out; their sweaty bodies pressed together.

As he made his way back to his chambers, Aemond considered that there might be something wrong with him, in the months since Vharla's birth all wanted to do was fuck his wife.

Even during the council meeting. She was all he could think about.

Morning, noon, and night. Her writhing and screaming his name as he brought her to peak. The way she would beg so desperately for him, and he fucked her hard.

He regularly attended to his duties as Hand of the King, he trained with Ser Criston, he spent time with Rhaegar and Vharla, but he never missed an opportunity to get between his wife’s soft thighs.

His sexual appetite had grown ravenous, he was insatiable, he was obsessed.

His wife was a goddess amongst men. She deserved to be worshiped and Aemond was always ready to kneel before her alter and give his thanks.

“How did the council meeting go?” asked Vaera as he entered their chambers.

“Boring” muttered Aemond as he shut the heavy wooden door.

“Glad I gave it a miss then” replied Vaera.

“You are the Mistress of Laws. Your absence at council meetings is unacceptable”.

“Oooh somebodies grumpy. Am I in trouble daddy?” muttered Vaera.

“Vaera” exclaimed Aemond, his cock twitching.

“What?” questioned Vaera innocently.

“This is the third meeting you’ve missed, If I have to suffer those boring cunts on the council then so do you” replied Aemond, his singular eye roving over his wife’s luscious body.

“But I have other duties that I need to prepare for”.

“Such as?” asked Aemond.

“Well, I could show you better than I could tell you”.

Before Aemond could say anything, Vaera sank down to her knees and was undoing the laces of his breeches.

Was she seriously going to? Oh yes she was.

Aemond’s breeches were quickly pulled down, and Vaera freed her husband’s cock from the confines of his small clothes.

Aemond stared down at his naughty little wife, his mouth hanging open as Vaera lightly ran her fingers over him.

Next thing he knew, Vaera’s warm, wet mouth was wrapped around the head of his cock.

Vaera’s tongue ran around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Vaera!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through his wife’s silver hair.

Vaera ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s knees almost buckled when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Vaera engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Vaera was driving him crazy.

Aemond forced himself to open his eyes, he had to watch his precious wife sucking his cock.

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push him too far to control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Vaera’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her pink lips stretched around him. Oh, it was heaven.

“I’m not going to last” Aemond admitted, though it pained him to do so.

Vaera smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth.

“It feels so good” groaned Aemond.

Vaera responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of her husband’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his stones.

“Shit Vaera! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

His sweet wife took every last drop, swallowing his seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Vaera’s self-satisfied smile.

“Am I forgiven for missing the council meeting?” asked Vaera.

“Most definately” exclaimed Aemond as he helped his wife to her feet and reached down to quickly pull up his small clothes and breeches.

“Don’t worry husband, you can please me later. Until then I’ll stay nice and wet for you” exclaimed Vaera as she left a stunned Aemond standing in the middle of their chambers.

H-How was he supposed to function now she’d said that? That teasing little-

Aemond shook his head and then chased after Vaera.

“Not so fast Issa dōna” roared Aemond as he caught up to his wife and slammed her against the wall (My sweet).

“A-Aemond” squeaked Vaera in mild surprise.

“Did you really think, you could just say something like that to me and get away with it?”

Oh, she was in for it now.

“No. I’m going to drag you back to our chambers and have you”.

“Yes” exclaimed Vaera, her eyes twinkling.

“Or I might just have you right here” whispered Aemond as he pulled Vaera into an alcove and turned her around.

“W-What?” gasped Vaera.

“Place your hands on the wall my love and bend over” muttered Aemond.

“Anyone could see us”.

“Best be quite then ābrazȳrys” exclaimed Aemond (Wife).

This is what she gets for teasing him. She should feel ashamed. She should stop this. But she doesn’t want too. Oh, how she loved her naughty husband.

“Do it. Please fuck me” whined Vaera.

Kings Landing was alive with celebration, the bells were ringing, and the bards were singing it was King Aegon’s name day and in his honour a magnificent tourney was being held.

A tourney, which Aemond was adamant that he didn’t give a shit about, but still entered anyway and ended up winning.

His proud smirk plastered across his face as he placed a wreath of flowers upon his wife’s head, crowning her the Queen of love and beauty.

“He’s going to be insufferable now” moaned Aegon.

But Vaera was proud, her husband was a fearsome fighter, dedicated to his craft.

The people of the realm applauded his victory.

But there was only one way her husband wanted to celebrate and soon after the tourney had ended and the children had been settled. Vaera had been dragged back to their chambers and fucked senseless on a desk.

“YES! YES!” screamed Vaera.

“That’s it. Come for me!" growled Aemond as he moved his mouth to Vaera’s neck, gently sucking on her smooth skin.

Vaera’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she exploded around her husband’s cock.

Aemond slowed down his thrusts as he waited for Vaera to ride out her peak.

Aemond was feeling primal at the sight and sound of his wife reaching her peak. More, he needed more. She can take it. I know she can.

Once Vaera had come down from her peak, Aemond started thrusting hard and fast.

Relentless and deep.

Aemond felt Vaera’s hips moving against his. The both of them in perfect rhythm.

Vaera wrapped her arms tightly around her husband’s neck as he slammed into her again and again.

Harder. Deeper. Faster.

All of Vaera’s self-control was long gone.

Both husband and wife were completely lost in the moment, gripping onto each other.

Vaera was on the edge yet again as she begged for more.

Aemond could feel Vaera clenching around him.

“That’s it my sweet. Be good for me. I know you can”.

Aemond then removed all but the tip of his penis from inside Vaera, gently teasing his sweet mewling wife.

Vaera writhed against him, trying to impale herself on him.

"Please. Aemond. Don’t tease me. I want all of you" whimpered Vaera.

Aemond surged forward. Slow and deep strokes. All the way in, and all the way out. Slow and steady, every inch sliding deep inside his wife.

Vaera’s amethyst eyes revealed just how desperate she was for him and Aemond loved it.

He loved watching Vaera struggle to keep her composure. He wanted to drive her crazy with desire.

Vaera screamed Aemond’s name as he pounded into her.

Aemond’s eye alight as she fell apart, watching as another peak tore through her.

“I love that I can make you come over and over again. It feels so good”.

Aemond didn't give Vaera time to recover this time. Instead, he dove into her. Burying himself in Vaera’s tight wet heat completely.

Again and again, he thrust into her, their sweaty bodies colliding. He slammed himself against Vaera as she whimpered nonsensically. Lost in the moment.

"Aemond! Oh, Aemond” screamed Vaera as she felt his cock throbbing inside her.

"YES” groaned Aemond loudly.

With that, he thrust into Vaera one final time, shoving his cock deep.

Vaera’s entire body pulsating with euphoria as she clenched tightly around her husband.

Aemond threw his head back and moaned loudly as he exploded deep inside Vaera.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaera.

“Hm”

“You-Your amazing” said Vaera smiling.

“As are you my love” replied Aemond, his voice slightly muffled as his face was buried in his wife’s neck, his softened cock still nestled inside his wife’s warm wet cunny.

“I think we should bathe” muttered Vaera.

“Give it a few minutes and I’ll call for the maid. I’ll also request moontea”.

“I-I don’t need it” whispered Vaera her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the desk.

“What?” asked Aemond raising his head sharply.

“I’m with child again”.

“A-Are you sure?” exclaimed Aemond.

“Yes. I saw Maester Munkun yesterday. I was going to tell you tonight” replied Vaera.

Aemond stared wordlessly at Vaera, his gaze alternating between her reddened face and her stomach.

He shouldn’t really be surprised in the slightest, the amount of times they’ve bedded one another in the last few months, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

He remembered his wife’s words when they were courting. She’d been so lonely during her own childhood that she never wanted any of her own children to suffer the same fate, so she desired to have as many children as her body and her husband would grant her.

A family of her own that they had created. Born out of love. It was all Vaera had ever wanted.

But the primal urge inside him had roared to life at the knowledge that his seed had yet again taken root.

His wife would soon be round with yet another one of his babes and it pleased him immensely.

He could feel himself getting hard again at the thought.

“Come now wife. Let us celebrate our good news” muttered Aemond as he thrust forward.

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