#oc character house of the dragon

[camilbarnessss]

" So Be It "

《 Jacaerys Velaryon 》

The princess Daera Targaryen, Prince Jacaerys's brave sister wife, is secretly weded to the Prince Aemond Targaryen, for he is her true love. However, when The One-Eyed Prince and herself start to dream of children of their own, she recognizes what is to be done to hide the true parentage of the child: she needs to bed her "fake" husband, Jace, who may yet be a total gentleman, but finds himself melting under the enchants of his lady wife. Literally.

¤ Jacaerys Velaryon x OC Character [ Daera Targaryen, older daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon ]

ACLARATIONS:

¤ Word count: 2.5K

-This piece is actually belonging to a much larger fic of my own, The Invitation, about Aemond Targaryen. This part is belonging to the 7th chapter of the second season, The Dance of The Dragons, but turned out so great that I just had to publish it as a one stand and. besides. I feel there is a scarce of Jace's fics, so I wanted to cooperate :)

-As this was not written as a one-shot, there might be a little lore during the chapter, but I edited it a little so all may be understandable. So, SPOILERS of my fics.

-But, to be clear from now on: Jace and Daera are married since a year ago, as well as Aemond and Daera (in secret). They are cousins, but have always refered as "sister" and "brother" to each other for they literally grew together in Dragonstone and are really close, as well as the rest of the siblings (Daemon and Nyra's children). As they were forced to wed by The Greens and The Blacks after Daera was found coupling with The One-Eyed Prince (which they obviously hated, and it was Jace himself the one who proposed the betrothal to "save his sister"), their marriage is sort of a solution, hence why they have never had none sexual interaction. They've only just kissed, and not even many times. Right now, at the moment, the whole family is at King's Landing, and it is the afternoon after Vaemond Velaryon was murdered in The Iron Throne room. And...yeah, I think that covers all the important things.

-Jacaerys is eighteen already in this fic, matters to say, and Daera is nineteen.

So, shall we begin?

Warnings: cursing, infidelity [Daera is Aemond's wife], dry-humping, first sexual experience [Jace's], sub!Jace, incest [brotherXsister]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy :)

《 ... 》

Princess Daera is at her chambers of The Red Keep, at the moment, standing in her balcony as she, serenely, caresses her belly, feeling its flatness, but dreaming about the day it will be buldged with the babe already inside.

Her dearest love, Aemond, just yesterday put inside her their upcoming child, during the romantic evening they shared at their secret place. Her daughter, Alyssa, as they both would love to name her, is already within her body, ready to grow into a beautiful strong dragonrider.

How exciting this is?

-Daera?-. Some knocks in the door, and a voice from behind it, made the princess to turn her head around, calmly-. Are you in there?-. Jacaerys asked, politely.

-Come!-. She allowed, getting her hands off her belly, and walking to the insides of her chambers again.

Jace comes into the room, greeting her with a kind smile. She copies it, as he closes the door.

-Oh, you come alone?-. Daera raises her brows, smiling.

-Uh, yeah! Yeah-. Jace nods, raising his brows again-. I was walking through the gardens with Rhaena and Luke, but I left them alone, and they didn't even notice-. He narrates funnily, walking.

The princess laughs funnily.

-They are so silly-, she mumbles, burlesque.

-They definitely are-. He agreed, jumping and falling on her bed with total confidence. Daera scrunches her lips, amused, with her back leaning on a wall-. Ohh, great, I've been walking all day-. The prince sighs, comfortable, crossing his hands behind his head.

-Do not deprive yourself from the comforts of my mattress, then-. She huffed, and he laughs funnily, laying in there.

-Uhh, Baela sat to sew with some ladies of the courts, gossiping-. He keeps telling, and she snicker amusedly, rolling her eyes-. And, lastly, Lady Beesbury is pampering Joffrey with endless cakes-, Jace sighed, smiling.

-Oh, very fucking good, the boy fawns over desserts-. Daera nods with her brows furrowed, and he copied her, calmly breathing.

The princess sighs, leaning the back of her head on the wall.

-Well, then I am fucking glad of being your last resort-. Daera jokes with a snicker, tilting her head.

Jacaerys immediately gasped, raising his head to look at her with his eyes wide open.

-No no no, you are not, I am sorry!-. He instantly denies, shaking his head. She laughs maleficently, clapping-. Do never think that, Daera-. The young man tsked his tongue-. You are my wife-, he remembered with a low voice, almost to himself.

Daera blinks when she hears him. She clicks her teeth a little, and thinks about Alyssa.

She has, indeed, thought about the fact that she obviously will have to say that the babe borned to her, will be Jace's. To be honest, she has thought of it since the idea was put in the table by herself and her husband.

To be far more honest, she is completely up for it, if that means that she will have her child. Daera knows the matter is delicate, hence why she hasn't asked Aemond, and also because they haven't had time. However, she knows he'll have to agree on this, because they both want children, and they obviously can't wait that many years from here until she has the power of queenship.

Princess Rhaenyra, when she was weded to Ser Laenor Velaryon, long may he rest, had an explicit agreement with him, regarding the parentage of their children. They were fathered by Ser Harwin Strong, of course, but there was not one moment when Laenor didn't supported that, discreetly. She didn't have to bed him, when they finally got things clear, and so the princess freely had her children with the man she loved at the time, and beared them with endless dearness.

Princess Daera, though, does not posses that kind of discrecy with her husband, Jacaerys Velaryon, for he is extremely loathe of her true husband, Aemond Targaryen. She cannot whisper to his ear if he would allow her to have The One-Eyed Prince's children and accept them as his.

So...she has to bed him. And if that is what she ought to do to give birth to Aemond's sons and daughters, then so be it.

Daera lifted her gaze back to him. Just with that single move, something changed in the air of the room.

Jacaerys, lying on her bed, looked back at her, with his arms still crossed behind his head. He opens his lips, having felt that switch of ambience.

-And- and about the thieves, the ones you killed, umm...-Jace clears his throat-, uhh- wow, must have been quite an experience, huh?-. He asks, lifting his brows with extreme interest.

-Um, I suppose it was-. The princess shrugged, calmly heading towards the bed. He gulps, nodding.

-Yeah. Did- did they do something- something bad, after all?-. Jace curves his brows, clearing his throat again.

-I cut their hands before they could-. Daera softly whispers, reaching the bed, and beginning to climb on it. The brown-haired boy gulps, only looking at her eyes-. I wasn't going to wait for the damage to be done-, she says.

-Smart-, he nods-. You...you didn't wait, then-. He whispers.

-I always do what I want-. The princess mumbled, lying over her shoulder, and looking at his eyes with deepness.

Jacaerys gulped, again.

Afterwards, he couldn't stop his eyes anymore, and they glanced down to her near body. He started having those thoughts again when staring at the curvature of her waist and the thickness of her thighs behind her red skirt, when looking at the generosity of her neckline, where her covered breasts come up and down along her slow breathing.

Jacaerys thinks to himself how he is husband to the most beautiful and, forgive his bluntness, most sensual woman of The Seven Kingdoms. Countless are the men that would kill for having her touch, not to say for having her as their wife. Her smell is said to drive man insane, and he is a victim himself. While those men kill each other for the princess...he has her lying right beside him, on the bed.

Inevitably, the brown-haired gets nervous, gulping yet again, and moving a little on the mattress.

-What do you think we'll have for- uh- supper, tonight?-. He asks, curious.

The princess looks at him, centimeters away from his face.

-What do you fancy?-. She questioned back, whispering, taking all the breath of his lungs.

She knows what she is doing.

Jace hums, closing his eyes, and not keeping himself anymore from granting her a kiss. Daera sighs heavily, closing his eyes as well, and answering to his lips with slowness.

The spouses both kiss each other in total silent, sensing the fresh breeze that comes from balcony. Jace places his hand on her cheek, caressing it, and she places her hand behind his neck, pushing closer. He moaned, surprised, and then again when she started to go faster with her lips. The prince shakes, answering the best he could.

Jacaerys feels her hand starting to caress his hair. She is his sister, and this is not at all the first time she caress his mane like that, but this time was completely different. She hided her whole hand into his brown jungle, caressing it deeply, and then gave him a little pull, making to grunt, and to feel a prominent tickle in the between of his legs.

-Daera-, he whispered, breathless, when the kiss ended.

-Yes?-, she mumbles, playing with her lips around his, breathing around them. He sighs, bemused, mesmerized by her purple eyes-. Do you want me to show you?-, she proposes, with a thread of voice.

-What?-, he sighs, in trance.

Daera thinks about Aemond. This is not infidelity, she convinces herself. Is not. She doesn't wishes to ask him wether "if she can", because that would only bring a really big unnecessary discussion, and she knows it, and prefers go avoid that. Since when does she asks for permission? She will tell him, and that is it. This is something that must be done, for their child.

The Rogue Princess, in all of her cockiness, grabs the hands of her brother, and makes him to quickly move in the bed. Mesmerized, he follows every move she made him do. And, within three seconds, he ended up seated in the mattress, leaning his back on the back of the bed.

Daera meets their lips again, kissing him first, for the first time ever. Jace sighs, furrowing his brows, moving his nervous hands on the sheets under. Afterwards, the princess climbs on top of him, and suddenly, she ended up seated on his leather pants's lap.

In that moment, Jace let out the strongest of moans, opening his mouth and eyes with surprise, and fascination. He looked down, shocked, seeing her open legs wrapped around his, clenching his sides. He breathes fast, turning as red as a tomato, nodding with silliness.

-Seven heavens-, he whispers.

His wife grabbs him by the neck, and starts kissing him again, stoppless. The prince moaned from deep his throat, wrinkling the sheets on his hands, not daring to place them on her, though he so much wants it. Daera, aware of his lack of touch, thanked it, and kept kissing as if she didn't notice.

The princess gripped his body with her legs and, afterwards, she started to circle her hips around him, dancing over his lap. Jacaerys straight out whimpered inside of her mouth, speechless, closing his eyes strongly. His heart started to beat so fast as his pants grow everytime tighter before the strong touches of her. Oh gods, he is feeling something. There is that thing under her skirt, in the between of her legs, rubbing against what is the between of his. It is so soft, even with the fabric in the middle, and is making him go insane.

Daera broke the kiss, opening her lips into a moan that will shame herself for the rest of her life. She wasn't expecting a sudden punch in her core by the pants of Jacaerys, and she definitely wasn't expecting such a thick and beefy cock, his, pushing against her. The princess blinks multiple times, thinking of Aemond, seeing his eye on her mind.

-Fuck-, she sighs, rocking her hips and making her dressed cunt to pamper Jace's awaken cock.

-Oh, gods-. The prince sighed as well, so silly and blushed, not believing The Rogue Princess got him this hard, with just seconds. He has never had a woman touching him like this, until now, less meandering above his dick-. Sister-, he moans, weak.

-I could not wait more-. She whispered against his lips, taking his hands, and interlocking their fingers. He groans, looking at her with teary brown eyes, constantly peering at her wrinkled skirt rubbing endlessly against his erection-. I know you want me, brother-. She seduced him with a honeyed voice.

-I do, I do-. His weak breath answers, with his chest coming up and down. Daera bites her lips, placing their united hands above of his head, trapping them in the back of the bed. Jace moans, feeling he is losing his mind-. I am sorry-, he whispered, blushed.

-Ouh do not be-. She sing-songs, tilting her head, and leaning it closer to his, watching at his eyes. He breathes fastly, seriously starting to believe his sister is some kind of witch. How does she holds so much power?-...I want you too, Jace-. Daera forced herself to say.

Jacaerys opened his mouth, moaning, and she took him by surprise by kissing again, now bringing out her tongue unexpectedly, making him to flinch and moan louder than before. He feels her expert tongue licking the most sensible part of his mouth and lips. She bites his lips, and then kisses them with slowless as her hips keep moving. He does as much as he can, also using his tongue, and licking hers with his, groaning when finding the sweet flavour of her saliva.

-Daera-, Jace breathes fastly. She humms, licking above his lips while he said her name. He whimpers, trembling whole, unbelievable-. I- I can't-, he whines, seeing her tongue, intimidated by the arrogance of it, and ashamed by the inexperience of his.

-You can-, she promised him, whispering, making the most perfect circles with her hips. The prince cries, not knowing that he is being really loud.

They are dry-humping in Daera's bed, filling the air with fast breaths and loud moans, feeling their private areas touching and rubbing harshly against each other under the fabric of their clothes. Jacaerys feelis his cock twitching and pulsing, and Daera is ashamed to admit that her cunt is somewhat wet, not having resisted to the strength of the prince's manhood, it is so meaty.

Nothing will ever compare to Aemond, she says to herself, trying to only picture him.

-Sister-, Jacaerys whispers when they ended another kiss, and he groans when seeing a thick thread of saliva hanging between their lips-. Daera-, he names with no breath, feeling her harsh grip on his trapped hands, and her fast moves on his strong cock-. Daera!-, he moans sharply.

She kisses his lips for a second, and then again, and then again, and then abruptly gets her tongue into them again. Jace cried loudly, melting under her, and answering with weakness, for he is just overwhelmed by all the pleassure that he never had even a little taste of before in his life.

-Daera!-. Jace's body suddenly tensed up completely, and his factions all wrinkled as his mouth let out the biggest of moans, shaking and trembling under her.

The princess grips his hands harder, and makes slow circles with her core over his cock when she felt it twitching endlessly. Jace whines time after time, with his chest coming up and down, and his face turning even more red than before.

He saw stars in his closed eyes, and when he opened them, found the brightest of them.

Daera breathes fast in front of him, with his saliva around her mouth, and strands of hair in the middle of her sight. Jace moans weakly, blinking slowly, staring at her with his mouth opened. The dance of hips has ended, and now he just feels a pulsing thing still against his pants.

The princess quietly blinks, furrowing her lips while she looks at him with a silly expression, blinkless. The prince, with no breath, gulps strongly.

-Le-...let me go clean myself-. He whispers, completely blushed.

Daera blinks bigly, foolishly starting to nod.

-Of course, of course-. She starts to get off him, kneeling on the bed at his side. Jace moaned lowly shen she moved. Inevitably, his sister glanced at his pants, finding a remarkable bulk in there.

The princess opens her mouth, bemused. It is bigger than Aemond's, for the fuck's fucking fucks.

Jace gets off the bed, and she flinches when he limps.

-I'm fine, I'm fine!-. He instantly assured, raising his hands. She blinks, seeing him slowly walking away-...More than fine-, he foolishly whispered.

Heading onto the washroom, Jace blinks in shock, feeling how his undergarments are literally soaking with cum, endlessly. He'll have to run to his rooms, right now, to take an immediate bath.

The prince sighs, not believing that he just had his first sexual experience, and what a experience it was.

《 ... 》

Masterlist of the main story, if it interest you ♡

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, humiliation, bullying, chauvinism ]

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

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

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He had always felt that he lacked something. Part of him claimed that if a dragon had hatched from his egg, things would have been different, however, years later, he recognised that this was not entirely true.

Aegon had a gift for light-hearted conversation, an ironic humour that he lacked. He kept telling him to smile at last, to get his nose out of his books, that he was boring, perpetually serious and withdrawn. He preferred to spend time with Jace and Luke − they were louder and funnier than him, they understood him, they had dragons, they had what he was missing.

They didn't spare unpleasant comments even to their own sister, calling her a hamster, most likely referring to her rosy, firm cheeks and big eyes.

He could see that she was running away from them crying, but he wasn't going to comfort her. She was a girl, her world seemed to him as distant as Essos, completely incomprehensible to him, filled with beautiful gowns, embroidery and music.

The only thing they had in common was books.

They bumped into each other occasionally in the library, and although at first they simply pretended not to see one another, one day she dared to sit next to him as he looked through the family tree of their ancestors.

"What are you doing?" She asked, placing the large volume on the table in front of them with difficulty. He huffed as the dust that rose with her movement reached his nostrils, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that it was The Great History of Aegon the Conqueror.

He did not reply, turning the page of the book, not knowing why he should explain it to her.

He didn't believe her, didn't trust her, didn't want her.

She was a bastard, though she probably didn't know it herself, wallowing in riches like a princess even though she didn't deserve them.

He didn't want her pity, attention or anything else she could give him.

He didn't want to be her second choice, the place she ran to because her brothers were mean to her; he had his own, in his mind very adult, worries and he didn't want to listen to hers.

"Is this a book dedicated to our family history?" She asked softly, leaning out so that she could see what he was reading. She stood up coming closer to him and he pressed his lips together when he smelled her pleasant scent, some intense vanilla oil.

He felt a tightening and burbling in his stomach at the thought of the cake that smelled similar, which his mother had ordered to be baked for his Name Day a few months earlier.

"Ah, our family tree. Where are we?" She asked cheerfully, as if intrigued, and he sighed heavily, reluctantly flipping forward a few pages, tracing their line with his finger, showing her a place at the very end.

He swallowed loudly as he saw how Laenor Velaryon was written in the space where her father was inscribed, trying not to smile with mockery.

She leaned lower, looking at the area he had pointed at and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her cheek right next to his.

He was surprised at how different they were, apart from the obvious fact that he was a man and she was a woman.

His eyelashes were almost white and translucent and hers were black, long, surrounding her shining eyes, making them seem even bigger to him. His skin was pale, thin as parchment when hers was flushed and full of life, her lips plump and moist, her nose shapely and straight, the contour of her face gentle as his jaw was outlined sharply.

And finally, his hair, the colour of Targaryen's, the white she lacked, her luscious black curls falling gently down her back was visible proof of who her father was.

Although he liked to mock her in spirit, he couldn't say she was ugly or repulsive.

"Would you marry Helaena if our King so commanded?" She asked curiously, glancing sideways at his seated figure. He lifted his gaze to her and sighed heavily, figuring that nothing would happen if he spoke to her for a while.

She was simply bored, just like him, and he didn't get the impression that she had come to entertain herself at his expense.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes. I would do my duty as a Prince and son of the King." He said lowly, solemnly, fiddling between his fingers with the page of the book he had just looked at, crossing his legs − even though he was still a child, he was trying to sound and look like a man.

She cocked her head, clearly genuinely intrigued by his statement, a wide smile on her face.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked as if it was obvious, as if she was encouraging him to reveal his little secret to her. He looked at her in disbelief, not knowing what to make of her question. He swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze, feeling his heart pounding fast.

What did it matter?

"Well…she's my sister. Of course I love her." He replied coolly, feeling strange with the words on his tongue, as if there was something inappropriate about them.

"I love Jace too, but I'm not in love with him. There's a difference." She said with a kind of calmness and wisdom that surprised him; she stood beside him looking at him with a gentle expression on her face that consternated him.

Why were they even having this conversation?

Still, her words made him feel a tightness in his throat, a realisation that he understood what she meant, but didn't want to admit it.

The tenderness of falling in love, the poems and the late-night frolicking were the domain of women's imagination, which unfortunately then had to collide with the cruel reality. He was a man, however, and he had no intention of getting into these deep divagations of the weaker sex.

"Don't be naïve. Marriage is not meant to be a pleasure. It is meant to be a sacrifice for the good of the kingdom, to secure its needs." He said dryly, turning back to the page he had been reading earlier, frustrated for some reason by her remark.

She did not speak again, returning to her seat, sinking into reading the gigantic volume dedicated to Aegon the Conqueror.

Although he could have done it in his chamber, he had been coming to the library to read ever since and always met her in the same place. Although they didn't appoint themselves, they both had their assignments until midday and would turn up there to read immediately afterwards, sitting next to each other, exchanging thoughts in passing.

He was afraid that Aegon would see them one day, but fortunately he never ventured into the abyss of the library, few people went there and he felt reasonably safe.

Usually it was she who asked him questions and he was the one who answered her. He felt some sort of empowerment because of this, at last there was someone who appreciated his knowledge and rhetoric, who listened intently to his opinion.

"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly and he looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said without thinking, recognising that it would be wonderful to have by his side a woman who could wield a sword perfectly, with a sharp tongue and temperament, who would be a born warrior like him.

He saw his niece raise an eyebrow in amusement, a sort of childlike joy on her face, her eyes shining.

"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said mockingly, as if immensely pleased that she could take the argument out of his hand. He pressed his lips together at her remark and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.

He didn't care what men and women did at night − his mother had told him that he shouldn't bother with it for the time being, and he had decided that there was in fact no need to, until his father called on him one morning.

"− no −" He heard his mother's voice, leaning over the table where the tired King sat, looking at her as if half asleep. "− I do not agree, Viserys, it's not −"

She did not finish, hearing his footsteps and folded her arms in front of her, trying to calm herself, letting out a loud breath. His father nodded at him to come closer, which he did obediently, feeling his heart pounding hard.

His father had never yet called on him on any serious matter.

"I have just been discussing with your mother the importance of our family, of our kingdom remaining united. Although I have agreed that, according to tradition, your sister should marry your brother and not your nephew, I would like you to be the one to bring House Targaryen together anew, and that you should marry the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the future." He said calmly, with each finished sentence tapping his fingers on the table top, as if to add some finality and certainty to his words that he was convinced this was the right thing to do.

"− this is ridiculous − Aemond should secure our kingdom with a marriage to the daughter of one of the lords who can benefit us −" His mother began impatiently, her husband sighed loudly, exhausted.

"And who should receive this honour? The Starks? The Arryns? The Baratheons? No choice would be good, for someone would always feel disadvantaged. Marriage within the family will not outrage anyone on the outside, and will only strengthen what has been strained." He said with conviction; the Queen swallowed hard, shaking her head, finally looking at him as if she was certain he abhorred the idea as much as she did.

"− Aemond, you don't have to agree −" She said in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, looking at the stone floor beneath his feet, feeling his heart pounding hard.

Bastard or not, the dragon's blood flowed in her, as it did in him. She didn't despise or mistreat him. She knew what duty and obligation meant.

He reasoned that although he would have preferred to have a female warrior by his side, in fact the idea of marrying her did not reject him. He preferred her to the daughter of some common lord.

In his own way, he even liked her.

He grunted, feeling proud to rise to the occasion and fulfil his father's desire.

"If it is my King's wish, I will marry her, for the sake of the kingdom and our family." He said lowly, looking him straight in the eyes, standing upright, his hands folded in front of him.

He felt a tightening in his throat as his father smiled at him sincerely, for the first and last time in his life.

"So it's decided."

He didn't know how the message had been conveyed to his betrothed, however he could see by the look on her face as she ran into the library, all red with emotion, that someone had made her aware of what had happened and he felt a twist in his stomach.

He was afraid she would make it clear to him that she didn't want him, that she abhorred him, that she had no intention of marrying a man who didn't have a dragon of his own.

As she approached him however her eyes sparkled, she laughed as if she didn't believe it.

"Is it true?" She asked breathing loudly and he swallowed hard, nodding his head, looking at her with wide eyes.

"I'm so happy." She giggled sweetly, warmly, covering her mouth with her hand, as if someone had just given her a wonderful surprise.

He felt some kind of heat in his chest, an affection towards her, a gratitude for her faithfulness, for her devotion, for the fact that she respected him.

He was shocked to think that she would make a good wife.

Aegon laughed at him, not understanding where his lack of objection came from, how he could think that good had happened.

"She doesn't even have an arse or tits." He sneered and he clenched his jaw, wrinkling his brow, looking at him over his shoulder.

"Shut your mouth. Don't speak about her this way." He growled, feeling that her good name was now his as well, and that he had to protect her.

Aegon snorted, shaking his head, patting him on the back piteously.

"My little brother fell in love with Lady Strong?" He asked, forcing himself into a sweet, mocking tone as if he were speaking to a small child, which angered him even more. He slammed his head against his forehead, and he swore in pain, staggering backwards, catching the table, which fell over with him.

"You fucking bastard!" He shouted throwing himself at him, and they began to pound each other with their fists, wrestling with each other on the floor, until, hearing the commotion, a servant girl rushed into his chamber, trying to separate them.

His future wife visited him in his chamber that day, concerned that he had not appeared in the library, raising her eyebrows in simultaneous concern and amusement as she saw him holding an ice cube to his red cheek, a large bruise under his eye.

"What's happened?" She asked as she was accustomed to, without any pleasantries, approaching him sitting in a chair that was, however, too big and his legs did not reach the ground. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders without answering.

He had no intention of revealing what had caused the fight − he wasn't going to appear to her as a prince on a white horse who would worship and adore her, as in all those poems she had surely read.

"Does it hurt a lot?" She asked further, and he shook his head. She sighed heavily, taking a single lemon cake from the pocket of her bottom gown, placing it in front of him.

"I know the Queen only allows you to eat sweets after your weekly visit to the Great Sept, but I stole one for you anyway. As a consolation." She said proudly, and he nodded, lifting his gaze to her, involuntarily feeling grateful.

She cared for him without wanting anything in return.

Since they were betrothed, she hadn't asked him for solitary walks, gifts, confessions of love or anything else a lady of her status might desire from the man she was to marry.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, recognising that he could give her at least that much.

She looked around his chamber and he realised that she was in it for the first time in her life. He stood up, setting the ice sack down in the bowl, walking over to his bookshelf, a gift to him from his mother.

"If you wish, I can lend you some. Just pick which one." He said softly, coming to the conclusion that he wanted to be kind to her, that he wanted her to have no regrets about him becoming her husband, to be proud of it.

She looked at him gratefully and took out a book written by the ancient philosopher, Areon, dissecting human dignity and duty. Something about her choice pleased him, the thought that she wanted to understand him.

She pressed the book to her heart and looked at him, her eyes seemed even bigger to him than usual, her beautiful long eyelashes, hair and plump lips shone in the summer light of the day.

He felt a pleasant tickle in his lower abdomen watching her without saying a word.

"Can I kiss you?" She asked so quietly that for a moment he thought he had overheard himself; he felt his whole body tense up, his pupils dilate in disbelief, his breathing quicken, his fingers involuntarily rubbing against each other in a subconscious nervous reflex.

Oh gods.

Should they be doing this?

Was this the right thing to do?

She was supposed to be his wife. From what he understood, husbands and wives did this, as a kind of union and intimacy.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her lips, thinking they looked pleasantly warm and soft; a shiver went through him at the thought that he could feel them in a moment if he wanted to.

He nodded his head.

He watched her vigilantly, involuntarily breathing through his mouth as she stepped closer to him; he was taller than her and leaned in slightly, wanting to make her task easier.

She surprised him when she suddenly lifted up on her tiptoes and her lips pressed against his in a warm, innocent kiss − he felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, the scent of vanilla filled his lungs, her skin delightfully moist and soft.

It felt so pleasant.

She pulled away from him immediately, all red as he was, breathing hard, as if it took a lot of effort and courage from her too, her eyes looked at him dreamy, as if she was waiting for his reaction, but he was unable to get anything out.

"One more time." It came out of him like a weak whisper, like a plea through which he felt the shame overpowering him.

For the first time, someone wanted him.

She smiled before rising on her toes again, this time placing a hand on his shoulders for balance − she pressed her fleshy, moist lips to his for a longer time and sighed softly as he touched her cheek, wonderfully soft and warm. She pulled away from him and closed her eyes feeling him stroke her skin with his thumb, he pressed his forehead against hers, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

"Will you come to me at night?"

He had nightmares most of the time at night − usually dreams in which he saw anew the pig that his brother and nephews had introduced to him as his dragon, humiliating him as no one had ever done before. He found that her presence calmed him and that perhaps if she slept in the same bed, he would finally get some rest.

He didn't think about the fact that it might have been at least inappropriate in the eyes of others when under the cover of night she snuck into his chamber, slipping under the thick furs beside him, snuggling up to him. In his mind she was already his wife, and wives slept with their husbands − unless it was his parents.

They lay that night looking at each other with their foreheads pressed together, stroking each other's cheeks, their wordless, innocent confession of affection and need for closeness.

"We are going to have seven children." He stated after some thought, as if he had decided that such a number would satisfy him. He wanted his family to be strong and broad, and also seven were gods, so it had symbolic meaning as well.

She blinked, as if something troubled her in his words, furrowing her brow.

"My mother gets very tired during childbirth and then can't get up for a few days. With the rest, how do we do it?" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders.

He had never delved into the ins and outs of the pleasures of the flesh too much − Aegon had said that rapprochements with women were very pleasurable and, as he understood, that was why he couldn't pull away from them, to him, however, what he had was enough.

"We'll find out everything when we're older. Do not fret." He said with certainty, stroking her soft, plump cheek with his thumb and she cheered up, he saw the sparkle in her gaze before her lips stole a soft, warm kiss from him again.

He smiled at the thought that he felt that in her eyes he was a man, the head of their future family.

There had been times when he had forgotten who she was, who her father was, her smile, her laugh, her eyes, the sweet kisses she bestowed on him when they were alone made him think it didn't matter anymore.

Years later, he could not believe how wrong he was.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[quiddling]

he freaking 😴

[kckt88]

Sytilībagon.

Summary:

Aemond follows his neice to her chambers, determined to teach her a lesson.

Warnings: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Language,Kissing, Incest, Smut - (Oral Sex - F Recieving), P in V Sex, Multiple Positions, Multiple Orgasms.

Word Count: - 2174

Sytilībagon - Belong.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

AEMOND X O.C LAELA

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.

As Aemond strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing with purpose, he clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. His niece's laughter still rang in his ears, a mocking melody that stoked the flames of his anger.

How dare she? How dare she mock him, belittle him in front of the others?

He reached the door to her room, his hand trembling with restrained fury as he raised it to knock. But then, a darker idea crept into his mind. No, knocking would give her too much warning. He wanted her to feel the fear that gripped him, the same fear she had incited within him.

With a quiet, menacing resolve, he turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest.

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, casting eerie shapes across the floor. Aemond's eyes narrowed as he spotted her sitting at the vanity, her back to him, unaware of his presence as she threaded her fingers through her thick dark locks.

He stepped into the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick rug, his breath coming in shallow, controlled bursts.

With each step closer to his niece, his resolve solidified.

Finally, he stood behind her, towering over her small frame, his shadow engulfing her.

She turned, startled by his sudden appearance, her laughter dying on her lips as she met his steely gaze.

"Aemond," stammered Laela, her voice trembling with apprehension. "What are you doing here?"

Aemond didn't respond. Instead, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder, his grip tight and unforgiving as he hauled her from the chair. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"You think it's funny to laugh at me, do you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "You think you can mock me and get away with it?"

Laela tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. She could feel the rage emanating from him, a dark energy that seemed to consume everything in its path.

But as her hand reached up to grasp his, Aemond was caught off guard by an unexpected sensation that rippled through him.

In that fleeting moment of contact, there was an undeniable spark of intense attraction that flickered to life.

Aemond's grip tightened, not out of hostility, but out of a newfound curiosity.

Her gaze met his, and for the first time, he noticed the depth in her amethyst eyes.

Caught in the intensity of the moment, Aemond found himself drawn to her, his usual defences crumbling.

He couldn't deny the pull he felt, the unspoken connection that seemed to bridge the gap between them. It was as if the gods were conspiring to bring them together, despite their differences.

As Aemond leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, uncertainty warring with desire.

But then, it was Laela who closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

The kiss was tentative at first, a tentative exploration of uncharted territory.

Yet, as their lips met, a surge of desire coursed through Aemond, igniting a fire within him that he never knew existed. In that moment, all doubts faded into the background, eclipsed by the overwhelming rush of emotion.

Laela responded to his kiss with a soft gasp, her own hesitance melting away in the heat of the moment. Their embrace deepened, each movement fuelled by an undeniable passion that defied logic and reason.

As the intensity of their kiss lingered in the air, Aemond's mind raced with a flurry of desires he struggled to contain. With each heartbeat, the yearning to be closer to Laela intensified, overwhelming his senses with a primal urge he couldn't ignore.

Gazing into Laela's eyes, Aemond felt a fierce longing stirring within him, an ache that demanded to be sated. In that moment, the idea of being apart from her felt unbearable, as if a part of him would cease to exist once they were no longer entwined.

Driven by impulse and a hunger he couldn't quell, Aemond found himself silently contemplating the unthinkable – to take her to his bed. The thought both thrilled and terrified him, awakening a whirlwind of emotions he struggled to comprehend.

In the depths of his soul, Aemond knew that such an act would irrevocably change things between them. Yet, the allure of surrendering to their passion proved too potent to resist, tempting him to abandon all reason in favour of the primal instincts that pulsed through his veins.

“Let me have you” urged Aemond.

“-Yes” replied Laela desperately.

Unable to deny himself any longer, Aemond shoved her towards the bed.

Aemond hooked his arms around her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Laela watched as Aemond spat on her cunny.

His singular eye quickly looking at her before he lowered his head and pressed into Laela’ core with his tongue.

Laela clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core, licking at her pearl with his tongue. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Laela ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby-” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Laela arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to Laela’ inner thighs.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Laela.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his niece.

Aemond moved up Laela’ body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the peaked rosy nipple.

“Oh-“ gasped Laela.

“-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized Laela’ lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (Mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Laela’ wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Laela desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust.

He paused at her whimper of pain, pulling away slightly, and looking down to see the blood streaking his cock.

“A-Are you ok?” asked Aemond quietly.

Laela nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, the sharp pain she had felt when he had first entered her was now a dull ache, she could feel his cock throbbing inside her and it made her insides squirm.

“Y-You can move now” muttered Laela.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his niece squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Laela.

"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Laela’ neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Laela

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, Laela" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me. I-I want it-I want you”.

Aemond groaned loudly, he knew exactly what Laela doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his niece’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

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

Laela folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

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

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

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

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Laela’ 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” whispered Laela, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

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

“Fuck” groaned Aemond.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Laela.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

Laela took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it towards her head.

Knowing what she wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching. His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Laela’ arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.

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

He took hold of Laela’ hair, twisting his fingers into the messy dark curls before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

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

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

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

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

“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 propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Laela breathlessly.

 “Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he pulled Laela on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“I-I don’t know how to-“ muttered Laela her cheeks tinged pink.

“Here-I’ll show you” replied Aemond placing his hands on her hips and moving her up and down.

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

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

Laela 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 Laela as he sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Laela’ thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach, if her uncle’s face had been sculpted by the gods themselves, then his cock had surely been given to him by the devil.

It was sin incarnate and Laela was ready to let it claim her fully, her uncle had possessed every fibre of her being and she revelled in it. Her mother would weep at her ruination and her brothers would claim she had been defiled, but all that mattered in that moment was Aemond.

 “AEMOND” screamed Laela her vision going white as she came around his cock.

 Her uncle threw her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“God. Laela” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his niece, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile Laela was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

Suddenly the realisation hit Aemond, he had just taken his nieces maidenhead, he had taken her to his bed and ruined her. What Lord would want her now?

No-she belonged to him. No other man would ever get to lay claim to her, he understood now more than ever, that he wanted her, he'd always wanted her and his hate was just a façade.

They were meant to be, and realm be damned he would see so.

There was only one way to ensure that she would belong to him forever.

“Marry me”

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (1)

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

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

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it. 

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next. 

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart. 

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down. 

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her. 

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him. 

But this? 

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband. 

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived. 

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.  

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her. 

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone. 

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces. 

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her. 

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter. 

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth. 

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria. 

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra. 

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed. 

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall. 

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce. 

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful. 

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Like A True Flower (Aemond x Reader)

So this was a bit hard to write but I hope you guys like it. There’s a slight mention of Aegon but I think I’ll need to write a part two to get into it cause there was just too many things to write. Let me know if you will be interested in that

As the years passed and the Targaryen name went from a burning dragon fire to merely a small candle that was handed to Daenerys Targaryen, the whispers of the bastard curse never went silent.

“If my children do not sit on the throne then none of our lines shall prosper”

(Y/n) Targaryens legacy lived on from people tarnishing her, blaming her and others who admired her wits and hunger for recognition. The bastard of Daemon Targaryen that was dropped off in Kings Landing, at the time Daemon had begged his brother King Viserys to legitimize her, raise her as their own, only the Seven could have known that (y/n) would turn out to be the one to put the sword on Aemonds hand and send him off to battle that got them both killed.

(Y/n) was the lady wife of Aemond per Queen Alicents request? At first, Alicent scoffed at the babe who seemed to sense the hatred that grew around her crib, a bastard amongst royalty, it was such a scandal at the time that Viserys had even considered giving her away. The babe growing tireless and her lungs as strong as steel made her discomfort evident to everyone with well working set of ears.

“Your grace”

“Have you fed her?”

“Fed her changed her, bathe her, nothing seems to work”

Alicent had walked into her nursery for the first time since she arrived, something in her compelled her to come to the child’s aid, listening to her wailing took her back to the first year of Aegons life.

“Give her to me”

The wet nurse hesitated only for a split second before she complied with the queen's orders, gently passing that young babe to Alicent who cooed at the poor thing, she had almost turned purple from crying, “she misses her mother” Alicent considered silently, slowly she started rocking her whilst she walked towards the window, she was pregnant with her third child at the time, her belly growing big and someone’s else daughter in her arms.

“She looks beautiful I’ll give you that much little girl”

She joked to the babe as the light of the sun graced her cheeks, it always seemed to work for Aegon and as the seconds passed (y/n) 's cries lessened, and a satisfied smile grew on Alicent lips as the little lady finally found peace in her arms, slowly turning her frown to one of the most adorable yawns that tugged at Alicante heartstrings.

“All you wanted was some sunlight, like a true flower”

Alicent was in awe of the child ever since, such a true beauty, and as she grew her delightful personality took everyone by storm, to be around her was to fall for her, even as just a child little boys would bring her flowers that they plucked from some unfortunate garden, including Aegon and later Aemond.

The two brothers were close to the princess, they would compete for her attention any way they could, of course, Aegon had the advantage of having a dragon and Aemond had to stay on the ground as he watched them circle one another, he would gawk at them with envy, praying that one day Aegon will have to watch him ride his very own dragon with (y/n).

Aegon on the other side would despise (y/n) and Aemonds reading time, the young girl was gifted at the literate arts, it was almost like she would swallow any book and recite on the spot anything that she was asked about any book she had gotten her hands on, Aemond was not as intellect yet he caught fast than Aegon and was more inclined to ask intriguing questions.

You can imagine his outburst of rage when the queen announced that she was to marry his youngest brother.

“She had inherited the lustful urges of her ferocious father, at the very least we must say she was much more discreet about it”

The historians would report back when asked about it, Aegon had the lust and fire of the dragon, while Aemond was sweet, attentive to her needs and his touch was oh so soft. Besides the fact that (y/n) wanted to have a bite of sweet and spicy, she also relished the jealousy between them, fighting for a spot in her bed every night was an aphrodisiac like no other.

Even though she was married under the seven to Aemond, she would often sneak from her chambers at the hour of the wolf and warm Aegon bed or other times when the chambermaids would scurry away after listening to the loud moans of (y/n) and Aemond in any type of room that the castle had to offer.

“A little after the war of dragons began her lady in waiting- Chiara Baratheon- had reported seeing the princess sitting on the iron throne while Aegon pleased her”

Mushroom would add briefly and with a hint of disapproval. No matter what she had the blind trust of the king and the prince and the undeniable love of Queen Alicent, the gods seemed to be in her favor whilst everyone wondered how.

(Y/n) was blessed by the dark world that her entire bloodline owed everything, at nightfall when the castle grew tired (y/n) would burn her candles and open her book, coming in contact with her ancestors as she sacrificed animals or even offered her own drops of blood and whenever she could she would spill Aemonds or Aegons, if you asked her she would say that she did it out of love, to keep them safe and in power, if they climbed the throne it was only natural that she would follow.

-

“Are you sure about your choice in your gown?”

“Never been more certain of something in my life, don’t you find it flattering?”

“You would be the most comely lady in all of Westeros even with a sack”

“Then it is settled, I am sure Mother will love it as well”

(Y/n) responded light-heartedly as she snaked her arm around Aemonds, she smiled brightly up at him like she always did making his stomach turn in backflips….like she always did.

Admins was taken by his lady wife, he was forever a slave to her and he was the one who had thrown away the key of his cell, his eye would sparkle with admiration any time he would simply gaze at her, her touch brought him goosebumps and her love, oh her love, like a fire that slowly burned him from the inside, a sweet death that was worth a thousand cuts.

“Our deepest apologies, I lost track of time worrying about my bloody hair”

(Y/n) could not afford to seem raddled or scared in front of her father's hawk eye, she paraded in with Aemond linked on her arm and a bright smile of a carefree attitude.

“Mother”

She acknowledged Alicent as her mother years before she was wed to Aemond, bending down to give a kiss on the cheek to the queen that made Alicent smile brightly and turn slightly towards her.

“How are you my flower?”

“Better, the morning sickness seems to be wearing off”

“Morning sickness? Is the princess with child?”

“Indeed… forgive me you haven’t been at court for so long, should I address you as princess, sister, or good mother?”

“Princess will do”

Rhaenyra confirmed through her teeth as her hand went over Daemon which had turned into a fist. Rhaenyra was no fool yet she somewhat understood the reasoning behind the young girl’s actions, left behind and forgotten by her father, motherless by death and fatherless by choice, she had begged Daemon to demand to take her with them but Daemon felt that the bond was unable to be fixed in any way.

(Y/n) only nodded and Aemond pulled out the chair next to Queen Alicent as she always wished to sit right next to her, even Otto had learned not to question it, as the dinner went on and the exhausting speech of King Viserys who just so happened to remember that he has a family that has steadfastly trickled into the chaos that he never even attempted to fix (y/n) also had to endure the forcefully emotional toast of Rhaenyra, still the shock that came from Alicent calling her “a fine queen” was the part that compelled her to rise and take her goblet.

“I would also like to raise a toast to our king who was kind enough to take me in when I had no one and merely but a babe I will always be grateful for that and to my mother, Queen Alicent, who came to my aid and offered me the love and the kind touch of a parent that I was denied by destiny, my love and devotion for her goes beyond words, may they live on and be able to see the fruits of my marriage.”

Daemon was ready to combust from anger. “How fucking dare she?” He thought “I took her from the arms of her dead mother, I begged Viserys to give her a home and now this is how she chooses to repay me?”

As the music played and the wine flowed everyone’s shoulders seemed to relax and laughter would intertwine with the mixture of talks amongst the people that dined.

“Would you do me the honor?”

(Y/n) heard from the back of her, turning only to be met with Prince Jacaerys who was sticking his arm out of her, there was a time when (y/n) and Jacaerys had some type of connection, Jacaerys was kind to her and had even offered to teach her the art of the sword, (y/n) puffed out a breath after she took his hand, no matter how she felt about it she was aware that Alicent wanted this to pass as swiftly as possible with no type of conflict.

“You look breathtaking if that isn’t obvious”

“That is very kind of you to say, my prince”

“I remember there was a time when we did not use such formalities”

“That was a time when my intended had both eyes”

she threw back with a smile still on her lips, as they dance (y/n) might have appeared to be happy although it could not be further from the truth, as they danced around together with a turn that Jacaerys had guided she was able to see both Aegon and Aemond waiting for their moment to attack Jacaerys, the prince was too carefree as he walked in the edge of their swords and it came the time that (y/n) dipped with his one arm around her waist and his free one went up to caress her locks, that was when a sudden booming sound of Aemonds fist on the table was heard, (y/n) immediately stood up and watched Aemond raise his goblet.

“To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey each of them handsome, wise… strong”

“Aemond”

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again”

“Why? T’was only a compliment, do you not think yourself strong boy?”

Jacaerys was once again the one to bring violence into the matter, what seemed to be not taken into consideration was that Aemond was now a man-grown, and quite easily with one hand, he pushed Jacaerys onto the floor. (Y/n) walked to Aemond and stood between them, her hands finding his forearms, before she could phrase anything the queen had also walked up to the prince of chaos.

“Why would you say such a thing in front of all these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs”

That was enough to send Jacaerys off again and try to free himself from the guards. The prince only got to make a few steps before Daemon stood between, it seemed like Jacaerys respected the rogue prince which left (y/n) dumbfounded, “who could respect such a buffoon?” She questioned in her mind

As Daemon turned to look at Aemond (y/n) took it upon herself and stood in front of her husband, the same smirk that Daemon had was the one that (y/n) was presented as well, her mismatched eyes reminded him so much of his mothers, “it was a shame that they had to be wasted on her” he thought.

At least he had to appreciate her ever-growing courage, though he didn’t know if he had to congratulate her or fear her, the girl put herself ahead of the man that she was wed just to prove she was just as courageous as the man she grew to hate.

“Go to your chambers, all of you”

Rhaenyra commanded but it appeared that (y/n) and Daemon had gone on a standoff, eyeballing one another like animals waiting for a slight move so the other could attack, both of them spewed fire from the eyes.

Aemond admired her, he would not dare to touch her and quite frankly he did not want to, he thoroughly enjoyed the sight of his love standing her ground against such a vile man.

“Little flower, please”

Alicent pleaded as her shaky hands found (y/n) 's upper arm and gave it a slight squeeze, (y/n) inhaled sharply although she only took a step back when Daemon diverted his focus to his lady wife, (y/n) offered a smirk to Alicent and after she gave a kiss on her cheek to calm her down, she knew that Alicent was never fond of such tension.

“Get some rest Mother, a long morrow awaits us”

The only way towards their chambers was to pass by Daemon, so step by step (y/n) and Aemond stood by his side, (y/n) halted and faced Daemon right in the eye.

“Let us solve this another day, Father”

It would have been better if she had called him the vilest of names, that name was enough for Daemon to reach for his sword and Rhaenyra to beg him to stop by pushing him back.

(Y/n)s laughter was heard as she walked away with her husband following close, the second the doors of the dining hall closed Aemond had snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her for a deep kiss to which (y/n) responded with the same passion.

“I did not know such things excited you, my love”

“How could it not? Any man would implore for an ounce of your attention after such performance”

“You always demand my attention Aemond”

“Can you blame me?”

He cheekily responded. (Y/n) only smiled and kissed him again pulling him in, she did not have much time, though a small stop to collect her prize of a very excited husband would not hurt.

“Tonight I need you in my chamber”

“Where will you do it tonight my love?”

“The simplest of cuts… right here”

She said as she let her index finger grace over the middle of his chest, she had to offer something right before the king died to make sure the will stayed spinning towards her.

“Whatever you want, my love, as long as I get my treat after”

“I could never deny myself the pleasure of you”

“Let us go before Aegon catches up to us and steals you away from me

Requests are open!

[starogeorgina]

Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest, sexual content, child birth, swearing

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen × Targ oc, Minor Aemond Targaryen × Targ oc

1.04

“Perhaps the prince would like to leave the room to give the midwives a chance to-”

“Don’t you dare fucking leave me!” You hiss, squeezing Aegon’s hand, and you stare daggers at the maester. “He’s not leaving my side.”

Reluctantly, the maester nods, swiftly leaving the room to no doubt report back to your mother, who was waiting at the door. She seemed more concerned that Aemond was nowhere to be found than you. The midwives had managed to spin your baby to the right way round, which reduced your chances of dying while giving birth breech.

Aegon hadn’t once left your side.

As the midwives ordered you to push, Aegon stood behind you, his forehead pressed against your crown, whispering words of encouragement and a promise to keep you safe while you held onto both of his hands tightly, screaming and crying as your first child entered the world.

“It’s a boy,” the midwives tell you as they wrap your screaming baby in a blanket, wipe his face, and then place him in your arms.

You sob at how tiny he is; “it’s a boy. My beautiful boy.” You stare down at him, admiring all his small features, until you feel sharp pains in your stomach and say, “Fuck! Aegon take him!”

“What?”

“Just take him!”

Nervously, Aegon takes him from your arms and into his; as soon as he does this, you grip the sheets, holding back on screaming again as you deliver the afterbirth. Afterwards, you stand up to let the midwives clean the bloodstained sheets, and you notice they keep looking at Aegon and then each other, clearly confused at why he is there.

Aegon was so mesmerized by the baby in his arms that he hadn’t noticed you’d gotten up and changed until you winced in pain getting back into bed. With a proud look on his face, he places the baby back into your arms and then kisses you on the forehead.

Moments later your mother enters the room; she shoots Aegon a disapproving glare when she sees him sitting on the foot of the bed, his hand resting on your leg, but smiles when she sees your baby for the first time. “He’s precious,” she says, brushing damp strands of hair out of your face. “I’m so proud of you, my darling. Have you and Aemond thought of a name?”

“Aeron.”

The room falls silent. You and Aegon stare at each other, and a flicker of understanding passes between you.

Your mother lets out a sound of delight. “I think the name Aeron will fit him well.”

—

Once your mother left, a wet nurse arrived, offering to take Aeron and feed him. You shake your head and say, “Thank you, but I’m going to do it myself.”

The wet nurse looks bewildered. Breastfeeding was deemed an inconvenience, and it would apparently stop you from getting pregnant again while doing it, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feed and connect with your newborn, which shouldn’t have been a problem, but the idea of it had caused the other women in the room to fluster. The wet nurse looks between you and the midwives. You became irritated and let out a sigh of annoyance.

Tracy, your handmaiden smiles sweetly at the wet nurse and says, “You may go.”

An older midwife tries to intervene. “My lady, it is known that-”

“Princess Theodora,” Aegon says sternly.

Her jaw clenches as she struggles to keep a polite smile on her face. “Princess, I believe it would be better if you hand the babe over to the wet nurse for now so you can rest.”

You had only given birth hours prior, and already they were seeking to control how you parented. If you lost control now, you would never regain it, and you would simply not allow that to happen.

“My child will be staying by my side, and his cot will be brought through to my chambers so I can tend to him overnight.”

The midwife's blank facial expression changed to one of horror. “I must insist—”

“Everyone out!” you snap.

“And if anyone has issue with the princess's choices, you can take them up with me, the firstborn son of King Viserys, or you can ask the Queen her opinion on the matter,” Aegon adds.

The midwives scurry to gather their belongings and leave. Tracy tried to hide her amusement, saying, “I will have someone move his belongings from the nursery to your bedroom right away.”

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

When the room is empty, you look at Aegon, trying not to laugh, and ask, “The first son of King Viserys?”

He shrugs, smirking, “It worked, didn’t it? Pay them no mind. He is our-your son. He’ll grow up knowing nothing but love.”

You look down at the helpless baby in your arms and tear up. You’d never imagined you’d feel so much love at once or the urge to protect. Aeron was innocent and pure, you’d spend the rest of your life trying to shield him from the badness in the world.

Aegon kisses the back of your head, saying, “I was so scared when you started bleeding; I thought I might lose you. Both of you… I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it means pretending he isn’t mine.”

His voice is weak from trying to hold back tears. It never occurred to you when you first made love to Aegon how much was to be caused further down the line. But looking at your son's small, lilac eyes, you know you wouldn’t change it.

“If Aemond ever finds out Aeron is yours, he'll burn King's Landing to the ground.”

“Don't worry, he won't find out.”

—-

“Aegon!” You empty a cup of water over him. “This is serious, wake up!”

Rubbing the water from his face, he scowls up at you. His voice is laced with irritation as he looks around the room and asks, “Where are the children?”

“In bed, it’s nighttime.”

“Unless you’ve woken me to show me your sweet cunt, I’m going back to sleep.”

He was drunk. You kneel down so you are level with him. “Aemond will be here soon; you need to go. If he finds you here-”

Aegon slurred his words and waved his hand, motioning to the chair he was lying in. “He’ll what? Assume I walked into the wrong bedchamber and passed out.”

“He’s getting suspicious. If he starts to believe the rumours…you know not to come here when he wants to spend time with me.”

Aegon sits up, his greasy hair flops over in front of his face, and he always drinks heavily when Aemond wants to try for another child. When Aeron turned one, your husband suggested having another, and just over nine months later you gave birth to twin girls, Alina and Alyssa. Of course, they shared the same father as their brother.

“Spend time with you—you mean he wants to rut into you and fill you with seed.”

You hated how crude his language choice could be at times, “You need to go now.” You scrunch your nose up when Aegon leans his head against your chest, “and take a bath. You stink of ale.”

“This wasn’t a part of our plan; you can’t have any more children. Not now.”

Hearing the pain in his voice broke you. You blink away tears that threaten to build up, kissing the top of his head, “I know, I know, and I won’t.”

Aegon had begged you to leave King's Landing and start a new life somewhere the name Targaryen means nothing, and you did consider it until rumours of you and Aegon fucking in a brothel spread. Although it wasn’t true, the rest of your family became more suspicious of the time you spent with your brother.

You watch happily as Aegon plays with your son in the garden. It surprised you how protective he was over Aeron and your newborn babies. Hearing footsteps approaching, you look over your shoulder and smile, “You look lovely today, mother. We missed you at breakfast this morning.”

“Thank you, and I was praying to the gods for guidance.”

Hearing Aeron let out a cry, you spun around fast to see your son being scooped up into Aegon’s arms. He had tripped over a small rock, scraping his knee. Aegon soothes him by stroking his hair and kissing him on the cheek. A moment later, Aeron was placed back on the ground and returned to exploring the garden.

“Where is Aemond?”

You shrug. “I do not know, but I’m sure he won’t be far.”

Most days, you just saw Aemond in passing at meal times and formal events. He only visited your bedchambers when he wanted to create another heir or was frustrated.

Your mother looked at you and then into the garden. Her face settled into one of worry. “Parenthood is hard; it takes some fathers longer to adjust.”

“I don’t doubt Aemond loves the children.”

“A mother's love is different,” she squeezes your hand. “And an uncle’s as well, apparently. They are very lucky to have so many people taking care of them.”

You frown at her; your mother's tone has changed from neutral to cold and accusing. “If Aegon wishes to tell my children about dragons, Targaryen history, and bedtime stories, even if they are too young to understand them, then so be it. It's more than Aemond does.”

“And why is that?”

Her question was simple but loaded. She wasn’t willingly blind like your father; being queen, she had learned how to be sleek, observant, and cunning. She knew the truth but didn’t dare outright ask.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

It might have been possible for you to sneak out of King's Landing with Aeron without raising suspicion; you would have claimed to be taking him with you while dragon riding, but after delivering twin girls, it became impossible. You wouldn’t be able to ride with all three children safely, and the moment someone noticed Sunfyre riding alongside Dallax, the consequences would be dire.

A knock at the door causes you to jump back just as Aemond enters the room. He looks between you and Aegon and rolls his eyes. “Lost and wondering again?”

“Piss off.”

Aemond smirks, enjoying seeing his brother in such a state. “You should sleep it off,” you say softly. “Come on, we should get you back to your own bedchamber.”

“Allow me,” Aemond brushed aside, pulling Aegon to his feet. “Come, brother, I doubt my wife wants to spend time with you at this time of night.”

You hold your breath, waiting to hear Aegon’s drunken response, but he says nothing. It’s not until you meet Aemond’s gaze that you realize it was more of a question than a comment.

You try to laugh it off as a joke. “I’m going to bathe before bed, so I'd rather you both left.”

Aegon smirks at your response.

Aemond simply nods his head, turns the other way, and leaves with Aegon without saying another word.

—

You rub at your skin, desperate to get the smell of Aegon off you. Usually you loved the smell of your lover lingering in the air, but not when Aemond was around. You always feared he’d smell Aegon on you. The thought of how paranoid you’d become almost made you laugh out loud. Most of the time, you were invisible to your husband; if you ever did leave, he would be the last to notice.

In the years you’d been married, he had yet to show any real interest in being your husband, which is why your affair with Aegon was so easy to carry on despite the guilt that occasionally overwhelmed you. It wasn’t until you gave birth that you understood your mother's comment. Aemond would always put the family name first, but Aegon would put you first.

Your relationship with Aegon wasn’t just based on sex, although he had become addicted to fucking you like he claimed he would. He would take you anywhere he could, and not just with his cock. He loved using his mouth and fingers to make you scream and beg for him. But the way he made you feel safe and loved was the best part; he adored all three of your children. Your days were spent playing with your children, riding dragons, or sitting beside him reading or talking. But you knew if anyone else found out, they would never understand.

Once you finished bathing, you waited for a couple of hours, but when Aemond didn’t return, you decided to go to bed. After changing into a nightdress and unbraiding your hair, you crawl underneath the bed sheets, feeling your eyes heavy. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

—

Feeling a dip in the bed beside you, you turn to see what's going on, and you’re shocked to see Aemond getting in the bed. The moonlight was the only source of light, making it hard to read the expressions on his face. “Aemond, what are you doing?”

You freeze, feeling his lips press against yours. “I am your husband.”

You’re taken aback by the playfulness in his voice; it's an unfamiliar sound. You remained stunned as Aemond started kissing your neck. Your shared intimate moments usually consisted of you lying fully dressed while Aemond did what he needed to quickly. The kisses shared were usually out of curiosity, and foreplay wasn’t something you’d ever done before.

Aemond gently pushes you back onto the bed before removing his clothes. He lay back down beside you and resume kissing your neck while his hand caresses your breast. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, his breath sounding ragged. “Not truly, not all of you.”

You gasped when he pulled down the front of your nightdress so that your breasts were on full display. Aemond sits back and pushes the fabric up to your hips, but for the first time, he actually looks down at your sex instead of avoiding it. He mumbled something you can’t make out then kissed you, his hand running up and down your thigh.

You cup the side of his face and sigh, “You don’t need to do this. You don’t need... do more than you want.”

“You are my wife,” Aemond says, moving to cup your warm slit, his finger teasing the entrance. “I must admit that I have neglected my duties in attending to your needs.”

Something inside you stirs—an emotion you can’t place.

“Tonight I’m going to put another heir into you.” Aemond slides a finger into you, kissing you at the same time.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you place them gently on his back. Aemond withdraws his finger and lines himself up with you, then slams into you. Removing his lips from yours, he takes as much of your breast into his mouth while squeezing the other with his free hand. You arch your back and let out a small moans he takes you roughly.

Aemond doesn’t last long and cums quickly, pressing his head against yours and breathing heavily. He pecks you on the lips, pulling out and rolling to his side. You wait for him to leave, but when he closes his eye, you realise he has no intention of going. You face the other way, close your eyes, and pray that morning comes quickly.

—

You collapse onto the bed, panting and gasping; Aemond was most definitely determined to get you pregnant. At first, you weren’t overly worried because you had plenty of time to drink moon tea, but it was now much more difficult considering he had sex with you twice since waking up.

You wanted to know what brought on this unusual behavior. You wanted to ask Aemond why he even wanted another child when he hardly saw the three he believed were his. He didn’t return from his travels for over a week the last time you gave birth; he briefly visited the twins in their nursery then left again.

“You don’t sleep well, do you?” Aemond asks while putting his clothes back on.

“No, the dreams I have keep me awake.”

Aemond looks intrigued. “Do you get them often?”

Growing up, your brothers would mock you and Helaena; they would call you weird. Of course Aegon stopped long ago; he was the only one you ever truly confided in. “Yes, I’ve been having the same one for years.”

“What do you see?” Aemond sat down on a chair facing the bed; he seemed serious. “In the past, I never listened, but I’m asking you to trust me enough to tell me.”

You feel ashamed. Aemond wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t love you or your children. “It’s hard to describe. It’s not just what I see; it’s what I feel,” You clutch a pillow to your chest. “I’m in the sky, surrounded by clouds. The sun is shining down on me, and then it disappears. Then I’m falling, and I feel this intense feeling that's trying to suffocate me, like a weight being pressed down on my chest. Then I hear it—a woman screaming. I think she’s dying because her whole world turns black.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until the wetness runs off your cheeks. Feeling awkward, you wipe them away. Aemond gulps, “I’m sorry; I never realized your nights were plagued by such images. Do you ever have other dreams?”

“Yes, I had a vision of our nephew Jace dying. So I sent a raven to Dragonstone, making sure he was okay.” It wasn't until you became a mother that you understood your family's hatred towards your nephews was pointless.

He seems surprised by your honesty. “Well, I’m sure your mind will be at rest knowing he is alive. But I don’t think you should waste your generosity on them, and I definitely don’t want Aeron interacting with bastards.”

“Your fight with the Velaryon boys is not mine, and it’s definitely not my children’s.” Aemond glared at you but didn’t argue. You let out a deep breath, feeling exhausted. “Speaking of the children, I should probably go check on them.”

“I’m sure our dear brother has beaten you to it,” he snorts. “I should thank him really. He gave me some good counsel last night, which was surprising given the state he was in.”

“What did he say?”

“Something along the lines of how ungrateful I was and that I needed to cherish you before you were gone for good. I assured him I wouldn’t let you or the children out of my sight from now on, in case you disappear,” he chuckles darkly. “But he did make me see that I need to make more of an effort, and now that I’m here, he won’t need to be around you or them so much.”

The emotion you couldn’t place before returns, but now you can name what it was.

Fear.

Horrible, agonizing fear that something terrible was going to happen.

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

story playlist

The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song. 

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness. 

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff. 

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed. 

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws. 

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet! 

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form. 

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.” 

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs. 

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…” 

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight. 

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it. 

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her. 

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity. 

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her. 

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day. 

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall. 

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.” 

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking. 

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.” 

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?” 

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.” 

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she? 

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation. 

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected. 

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair. 

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails. 

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.” 

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building. 

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering. 

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor. 

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing. 

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera, 

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello. 

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you. 

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things? 

I hope to hear from you soon. 

Best, 

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat. 

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers. 

Prince Aemond, 

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold. 

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers. 

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat. 

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more. 

I wish you well. 

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk. 

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified. 

Lady Stark, 

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well. 

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries. 

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was. 

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for. 

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory. 

Were they strangers now? 

Does he remember her? 

… why does she still wish to see him? 

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

[mmurkoff]

... but nobody came

[wordbreaker]

The Taming of the Dragon, 1 ✷ Aemond Targaryen

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen / F!OC

SUMMARY: One evening, Aemong, in dire need of clearing his head, catches a Dragonkeeper on the beach tending to Vhagar. The Queen of Dragons doesn't seem bothered by the stranger's presence. Quite the opposite. Aemond is immediately intrigued. Even more so when he discovers that the stranger is a girl who comes from the North and bears the name Snow.

-ˋˏ following chapter ✶ ao3 ✶ my inbox ˎˊ-

         Aemond Targaryen was on the verge of going mad. Everyone around him, from his mother to his grandfather and even his failing father, had only one word on their lips: Rhaenyra. His half-sister, who lived in Dragonstone, haunted the Red Keep. Her ghost wandered the corridors and manifested itself on their lips. He no longer wanted to hear that cursed name, which brought with it bad omens and curses.

“She'll do anything to usurp the throne! Even if she knows Aegon is the rightful heir!’ Alicent Hightower shouted.

Her brown curls bounced with every step she took. Her incessant to-ing and fro-ing along the Small Council’s table was making his head spin.

His mother had summoned him—as if Aegon wasn't the first son—to this secret meeting where her, his grandfather Otto, Criston Cole and Larys Strong would discuss stratagems, politics, and manipulations: three things he had started to loath. His love for his mother and his sense of duty had kept him from leaving the minute she made that request.

His expression revealed his true opinion of this ridiculous spectacle which he was watching with a distracted eye. He had stopped listening a long time ago and was waiting patiently—as was expected of him—to be dismissed. These discussions had a way of boring him. They went round in circles, nothing more than paraphrases of a previous meeting. A constant déjà-vu fuelled by obsession and a thirst for power.

“Viserys will come round,” her father reassured her.

The Queen laughed, a mundane, almost inelegant, gesture that was incongruous with her status. Rhaenyra had the gift of unearthing his mother’s inner ugliness. She could turn the most important woman in Westeros into the common little girl full of rage she had once been.

“She has his favour. She is the favourite child! He won't change his mind, not even about his first son!”

And what a son! Unsurprisingly, Aegon was nowhere to be seen today. His brother had never taken to politics. He was probably busy fucking some whore in the Silk Alley or some maid in his rooms, happy to let Aemond take over the responsibilities he left vacant.

Although it pained him to admit it, Aegon was the first son and he belonged on the Iron Throne. Aemond would much rather see his brother sit there than his whore of a half-sister. Aegon wasn't evil, just a misguided soul that his mother and grandfather would set straight. He was sure of that. Leaving the kingdom in Rhaenyra's palms, on the other hand, was tantamount to condemning the inhabitants of the Seven Kingdoms. Her reign would only bring calamity.

He tilted his head back and looked up at the ornate ceiling. His fingernails beat against the wooden table as the minutes ticked by. Slowly. Much too slowly. He held back a yawn.

The tone had been raised, words had been shouted, orders, given, and in the midst of all this racket, Aemond felt like screaming. He couldn't care less about Rhaenyra, his uncle, and her brown-haired bastards.

Aemond didn't want to suffer what his birth had spared him—responsibility. The second son was merely the replacement, the forgotten one. He would only appear on stage if Death came too early.

He wanted to be left in peace until then.

A futile desire for someone bearing the Targaryen name. No ancestor of the blood of the Dragon had known peace and he certainly wouldn't be the first.

The sun had been down for at least three hours when Aemond finally escaped from the clutches of his mother and grandfather. He mourned a wasted day and headed for his rooms.

On the way, he came across Aegon, his eyes reddened, and his eyelashes still stuck with sleep. His fist itched. He felt a visceral need to bring it down on his brother’s face. Why wouldn’t he grow up? What would become of Westeros if his grandfather and mother succeeded in making him king? Aegon was an immature fool and Aemond was expected to pick up the pieces. What did he gain by doing so? No recognition, no respect, and certainly not power. He was asked to do it because it was expected of him. An unspoken rule he learned to obey from an early age.

Aemond Targaryen would forever remain the second son, obscured by the shadow of Aegon’s unworthy glory.

“Brother.”

Aegon nodded, but the sly smile on his lips threw off any semblance of politeness. Aemond remained unmoved. He would not play his game, not tonight, although a few insults came to the tip of his tongue. He clenched his jaw.

“I assume the council was as interesting as usual. I'm sorry I couldn't be there but, you understand... A pretty servant was waiting for me. Couldn’t disappoint her, you know?”

Aemond didn't reply. He had not even deigned to leave the castle, not even his rooms. His hands began to shake, and a stabbing pain seized his sapphire eye, as it did every time he was upset. Lazy bastard.

When Aemond was mastering the art of sword fighting, Aegon was swilling whole jugs of wine. When Aegon was thrusting his cock between the thighs of a whore, Aemond was immersing himself in the histories of Old Valyria.

They couldn't have been more different.

Aemond continued towards his chambers, his face tense. Behind him, his brother burst out laughing and tried to talk to him, but he quickened his pace. Tonight, he had no patience for conversation.

Soon, the large wooden doors of his rooms appeared at the end of the corridor. The relief he felt was dulled by a weight in his chest.

At the last moment, Aemond turned around and hurried back. He felt as if he were suffocating within the gigantic walls of the Red Keep. The vast corridors were no longer so. They closed in on him and whispered hissing words. They slipped into his ear and snaked into his mind to unearth his worries. Stories of legitimacy, inheritance, the throne and responsibility—everywhere he went, his duty followed and plagued him.

Aemond needed to see Vhagar. He usually avoided disturbing her in the evening. His dragon was no longer in her prime and slept more than the others. Tonight, he would allow himself to be selfish. The need was too great. He had to clear his head, or he would go mad like many Targaryens before him.

He continued walking until he came to a darkened alcove. Aemond slid his hand over the cold stones. Eyes closed, he savoured the sensation. Click. He pushed open the wall, revealing a long and abandoned corridor.

The secrets of the Red Keep were no longer unknown for him. Aemond had spent his youth wandering up and down the corridors of the building in search of them. The stories said that Maegor the Cruel had beheaded the architects, the masons, the carpenters... all the brains and hands that built this fortress. They took these secrets to their graves, secrets that only the blood of the Dragon could recognise.

After the loss of his eye—thinking of Lucerys Strong made him cringe—Aemond had redoubled his efforts to find them all. These passages had offered him the ideal refuge to escape from the gaze of others during the most difficult period of his life. This tradition had survived.

Aemond didn't even stop in front of Balerion's skull—not when his own dragon, alive on top of it, was waiting for him—and he rushed through the corridors, down some stairs, up others, turned left and then right, down some stairs again until he finally reached a door which he pushed open.

The fresh air whipped across his face. Immediately, all his worries evaporated, although his hands continued to tremble—a vestige of his wrath. He inhaled the smell of the shore, a delicious mixture of salt and air.

Aemond made his way down the stairs and onto the beach. He relished the sensation of walking on the white sand. It crumbled under his leather boots. Aemond found this instability reassuring. Nature could be unstable too. The wind had picked up and was blowing thousands of grains around. These whirlwinds, small storms of matter, calmed him and the proximity of Vhagar finished off the hurricane rising in his heart.

With a slight smile on his lips, he walked over to the dunes where his dragon had taken refuge since he brought her back from Driftmark, eight years ago. A mountain of green scales stood among the other mounds of sand. It moved with every breath. Aemond could almost feel the warmth of her breath, the hardness of her scales, and could already imagine himself riding her, hair blowing in the wind, free in his mind.

His joy was short-lived. The gods did not like to see him happy.

Aemond stopped dead in his tracks. Next to the gigantic figure of Vhagar, a small silhouette stood out. It was fidgeting and tormenting the dragon’s sleep. The short distance between the two made him clench his fists. They were close, far too close. Aemond had forbidden anyone to approach his mount. He had never had to repeat his request before. Who would be foolish enough to approach a sleeping dragon? Those who had risked it were no longer around to tell the tale. They had been burnt to a crisp and their loved ones had had to mourn an unrecognisable pile of ashes.

The stranger must have been unconscious or just mad.

Aemond stomped over to them.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he growled rather than asked.

He knew he was protective of Vhagar. Everyone around him had noticed. He had exchanged her for an eye, and this suffering had only redoubled his murderous impulses: Vhagar was his. Anyone who dared touch her would face his rage.

The latter rose in his chest and accelerated his heartbeat. It coursed through his entire being, leaving no part of his body untouched. His nails dug into the palms of his hands. His muscles quivered, waiting for just one thing—for him to attack.

He stepped forward, ready to confront the stranger, who jumped and turned but did not reply. This silence made him even more furious. Who dared ignore their prince?

Moving a little closer, Aemond recognised the gleaming black armour and scaled helmet of the Dragonkeepers.

A breeze of relief blew over his heart, but it didn't completely calm the agitation that had been building up inside. At least this person knew what they were doing.

Worry and anger gave way to curiosity: what were they doing here? Aemond had never come across a Dragonkeeper outside the pit. They lived there to ensure the well-being of the creatures. Like monks, the pit was their sanctuary, and nothing could keep them from their duties.    

Normally, at least.

He couldn't see their face. Vhagar's massive form cast an equally colossal shadow over their body, which was further darkened by the night. It was only when he was close enough to smell the smoke coming from their uniform that he realised it was a girl and, worse still, that he didn't know her.

The last time he had ventured into the dragonpit, he had been only ten years old and had two eyes. Back when he was still Dragonless-Aemond, the place had seemed unreachable yet idyllic—the embodiment of impossible dreams. Eight years ago, he would have easily been able to name the seventy-seven keepers with the time he spent there. He came every day, waiting for the moment when a dragon would accept him as a rider.

The Dragonkeepers’ faces had clouded over with time, reduced to vague memories that the satisfaction of having claimed Vhagar had swept away. Far too large to fit in the pit, his dragon had made her home on the dunes of King's Landing and, in doing so, had made the dragonpit a bygone era of his childhood.

“State your name. Now.”

She dipped into a clumsy curtsy, perhaps the worst he had ever seen. She almost tripped on air and fell face-first into the sand. He winced. This girl was cruelly lacking in grace. No doubt the keeper’s profession had damaged her manners, which already left a lot to be desired.

"Lucella Snow, yer ‘ighness.”

His eye twitched.

A bastard from the North.

The shamelessness made perfect sense now.

These people were nothing but barbarians, made savages by the cold and their proximity with the Wildlings. They prayed to their strange, faceless gods, remnants of a primitive past, and still clung to superstitions dating back thousands of years which bore witness to their backwardness. Too limited for the political intrigues of the South, they retreated into their icy fortresses and only left them to defend themselves.

Northerners were strange and even the Starks, although not the worst of their species, were no exception to the rule.

Add to that the absence of a father to beat her and train her like a lady, which she could have become with a little effort, and you had the bastard in front of him. She was not unpleasant to look at, Aemond decided. Her pale skin, hidden under the ashes smeared on her cheeks, and the few strands of black hair sticking out of her helmet leaped out at him. If she had been born in wedlock, many suitors would have fought for her hand in marriage.

“And what on earth is a Winterfell bastard doing here?”

“I’m sorry, yer ‘ighness, but I’m afraid ‘am just a bastard frum White ‘arbah.”

Her accent struck Aemond's ears and made him wince. Syllables here and there disappeared as the vowels struggled to make themselves heard properly in this gibberish. Her voice was deep, deeper than his mother's or his sister's—the only women of his life—, and dragonfire smoke had taken the evenness out of her tone, leaving it hoarse.

He didn't like the way she avoided his question or her undeniable lack of politeness. She looked at him with jaded eyes as if he were the one who shouldn't be there. He thought he saw a flame dancing in her amber irises. A strange colour for someone from a Northerner. In these lands, eyes were only blue, grey, or black: bland colours for a land saddened by the blizzard.

“Winterfell... White Harbor... Northern towns all look alike.”

“I suppose yeh won't mind if I call you Velaryon, then? Yeh understand... Valyrians… They’re all th’same.”

His indecency irritated her. A mouth like hers belonged in a dilapidated tavern, not in a place like the Red Keep.

Northerners didn't belong here. They weren't like them.

“What is your concern here?” he asked her again.

Why isn’t Vhagar killing you? he thought.

Next to Snow, the Queen of Dragons looked peaceful. His companion was used to the presence of the keeper of the North, Aemond realised. The thought worried him. How long had this stranger been roaming around his dragon without him knowing?

The bastard pointed her gloved fingertips at a sheep carcass, no doubt ready to be charred by Vhagar, judging by the hungry look on her face. Aemond had not seen it until now.

The presence of this woman was upsetting his plans and troubling his senses.

“I’m bringing her food.”

Her 'r's rolled off her tongue.

“I already feed her.”

“Not enough. Obviously,” Snow retorted without hesitation, pointing to Vhagar's visible ribs. “Age tends t’work up their appetite. Ain’t tha’ right, sweetheart?”

She tenderly stroked the dragon’s muzzle, who let herself be petted under Aemond's hallucinated gaze.

His mount, reduced to a common pet.

His nostrils flared. He abruptly grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Vhagar, ignoring the grimace of pain on the Dragonkeeper’s face. Good. Perhaps she would understand that lurking around his dragon was not without consequences.

Vhagar, the Queen of all dragons, ridden by Visenya, had fought and survived Aegon's Conquest. She embodied the glory of House Targaryen and would not be touched by a commoner. A Northern bastard even less so.

Without a glance at her, he climbed the rope ladder and settled into the saddle.

"Sōvēs," he commanded.

Vhagar, lethargic, took her time shaking her wings before flapping them and taking flight. She sent grains of sand and stones flying. Soon, the beach was nothing more than a pale speck drowned in the thick clouds bathing in the twilight’s silver light. The icy air invigorated him, but he couldn't find the comfort he had come for. His thoughts remained stuck on the Dragonkeeper.

When Vhagar lost altitude for a moment, when the two of them broke through the cloud barrier and the beach was visible once again, Aemond saw that she had not moved and that her eyes were riveted on him.

Aemond didn't understand her expression but decided he didn't give a fuck.

[fairysluna]

SINNERS — Masterlist.

GENERAL MASTERLIST > Here.

STATUS: Hiatus.ㅤLAST UPDATE: October 8th.

PAIRING: Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

TAGS: incest (niece/uncle), age gap, grooming, emotional dependency, toxic relationships, obssesive behavior, corruption, manipulation, smut, angst, murder & blood, maegor being his own warning, war themes, violence, profanity. (+18/MDNI)

(*) means smut.

Prologue.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4. (*)

Chapter 5. (*)

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 6 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, mentions and brief description of rape, explicit torture, explicit murder, corruption, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

Within a second, Daera closes the doors of her chambers, immediately laying her back on it, and letting out a long heavy sigh.

-Ohh, fuck...-. The princess suspires, relieved.

Sun hasn't come out and, thanks to various factors, such as the darkness, the sleeping castle, and her polished sneak experience, Daera has successfully arrived to her rooms without anyone seeing her. And, if anyone did see her, they saw a hooded person and not a princess of the realm.

She closes her eyes, longly sighing again as a silly smile grows on her lips, thinking about everything that happened last night.

Her evening with her husband was a totall sucess, as it always is. Their island never fails to grant them beautiful moments of freedom and love, to them and to their dragons as well. By merely recalling Aemond's touch on her skin, and his words, and his consolation for her, she shivers.

Yes, she started to think about her mom in the early morning, when he was sleeping on her chest. As always happens everytime she thinks too much about her lady Laena, she broke out in crying. She had the luck, however, to have her husband right there as her comforter. He'll always says he's not the best consolator, when he clearly is. And to think that now she'll carry his child, that she already is! This was the first time they fucked and she didn't drink no tea, just went straight to sleep. Gods! Does a happier feeling exists?!

Daera chuckles lightly, opening her eyes again, and staring at her lonely dark room.

-Fuck...I gotta take a shit-. She whispered to herself.

The princess headed to her bathroom to take care of herself as shortly as possible. She took her lovely shit, gave herself a quick but nice bath, and then changed to some comfortable and clean night garments. Afterwards, she came out of the washroom, dragging her feet as she tiredly walked to her dreamy bed.

Her evening with her husband may had been lovely, but she's tired as fuck. And the full dawn is still an hour away.

So the princess threw herself on the mattress, sighing calmly, and closing her eyes with a serene expression, planning to have a good sleep.

And then the door starts to be knocked.

-No but you've got to be shitting me-. Daera mumbled, bemused, opening her eyes within a second. The knocks were quick, and insistent-. Coming, I'm coming!-. She grunted.

Uf, she came three times last night, by the way.

Daera opens the door, and she was highly surprised when finding Luke and Rhaena outsides of her chambers, the both of them wearing huge smiles in their faces. The boy is absolutely red, all blushed.

-Daera!-, the girl shrieks, raising her brows.

-Guys-. Daera mumbles, surprised-. Come in, come!-. She instantly insists, and they instantly do, chuckling fastly as they walked together. Their older sister closes the door, looking at them with confusion-. Why the fuck are you vibrating?!-, she pointed.

At the same time, Luke and Rhaena opened their mouths, planning to talk. They look at each other.

-Oh no no, you speak-. Luke politely says.

-No, please, you may-. Rhaena points forward, smirking.

-I insist, ladies first-. The boy giggles, all blushed.

Daera blinks with despair.

-You tell stories better than me-. Rhaena chuckles, elbowing him.

-What?! You're the best story teller I know!-. Luke immediately shakes his head, smiling-. I insist that you must te-

-OH, ONE OF YOU FUCKING TALK ALREADY!-. Daera explodes opening her eyes big.

-Okay I will!-. Rhaena shrieks facing her within a second, and Lucerys claps, excited-. Not too long ago, in the early morning, Luke couldn't find sleep, so he went to Rhaenyra's chambers to talk with her and play with Aegon and Viserys-, she starts to tell, smiling.

Daera nods quietly, with her arms crossed over her chest. She tsks her tongue, looking at him.

-Oh, my boy, why couldn't you sleep?-. She asks, lightly worried, tilting her head.

-Ma-matters don't to the story!-. Her brother instantly shakes his head, nearly rolling his eyes-. Keep telling her!-. He motivates Rhaena, while Daera sighed briefly through her nose, just listening.

-So, instead of just talking, Rhaenyra gave Luke some...news-. The younger girl's voice almost trembled from excitement, feeling her cheeks burning. Daera furrows her brows, curious-. News that he immediately told me!-, she smiles, looking at Lucerys, who looked back at her with a huge grin.

-What news?-. Daera questions with great interest, looking at the both of them.

Rhaena laughs, covering her mouth, and Lucerys smiles, taking a step front.

-Mother and grandma arranged a betrothal between Rhaena and I-. The boy finally announces, proudly and blushed, lifting his chin up. The girl, sameways, nods, raising her brows to the top of her forehead.

Their older sister's mouth fell on the floor, shocked.

-Holy hells-, she whispers, breathless.

-Uhh, hells are not holy-. Luke mumbles doubty.

-It'll we announced today, at the audience of the inheritance!-. Rhaena says with the biggests of smiles, looking at her sister, who scoffed a laugh, shaking her head.

-Oh my fucking gods!-. Daera loudly whispered, grabbing her own head and jumping on her place, going insane. Her siblings laugh vividly, sharing all of her excitement-. Oh fuck, oh my-! This so great, this is brilliant!-, the princess exclaims with a joyfull voice.

Lucerys and Rhaena giggle, sharing a warm glance between them.

-Oh...fuck!-. Daera laughs, breathless, taking the news in, founding it the greatest one of all. She gulps, blinking fastly-. And you are both okay with this, right? Do you like this? Are you both comfortable with this?-. She quickly and happily asks, holding their shoulders.

The most recent marriage of the family was hers, with Jace. The last thing she wants is another forced and mandatory betrothal.

She sees how Rhaena and Luke turn to glance at each other again, giggling so shyly, none of them answering the question. But it is so obvious, Daera thinks. They're more than okay with this. They are...they are happy, and free to be together.

That is what she wants for them.

-Oh...-, Daera sighs with a warm smile, walking to them, and softly pulling both of their heads-. I am so happy for you-. She whispers, placing a kiss on Rhaena's cheek, and then on Luke's forehead.

They smile at her with pride and dearness, easily feeling how happy she truly is. After caressing their manes for a few seconds, she sniffs her nose, briefly flinching.

-And...!-, the older princess raises her brows-, does the others know already?-. She asks, thinking about their other siblings.

-No, not yet!-. Luke shakes his head.

-We wanted to tell it to you first-, Rhaena smiles excited.

Daera sighs with a huge smile, curving her brows, feeling so important.

-Well then let's not wait anymore to tell them! Come on!-. She yells excitedly, shooting out running towards the doors.

-Let's go!-. Luke claps, immediately following her.

-You are still in your nightdress, sis-. Rhaena's calm voice interrupted them both.

Daera and Luke stopped right at the door. He looks at her from head to toe, instantly blushing and burying his face on his hands.

-I'm sorry!-. The boy says, muffled.

-Right-, Daera mumbles, heading to her wardrobe.

■ ■ ■

A fine wine slowly pours into a golden cup, which is holded by a delicate wrinkled white hand. The ilumination around consists of a few dim candles, and the little light that enters from an open window.

Princess Rhaenys, on her chambers, after fetching herself a cup of wine, sips from it with no hurry. She blinks, thoughtful, hearing the silence around her.

-A desperate proposal...but a clever one, I told her-. Rhaenys talks with her characteristic low and calculating voice-...What do you think?-, she asks, turning around.

Daera is seated besides the open window of the chambers, where the weak light of the arriving day is starting to rise, with a greyish tone. Her head shakes a little as she looks outside, with a bemused and proud smile showing at the side of her lips, growing bigger as she blinks, and thinks.

-I think its both clever, and perfect-. The younger princess answers, with not one doubt-. The perfect solution for Driftmark, and the most clever one to shut Vaemond's mouth up-, she whispers with amusement and confidence, shaking her head.

Rhaenys walks with slow steps, holding her goblet of wine while looking at her oldest granddaughter.

-It is the second time a move like this is made-, she mutters, briefly raising her brows. She made obvious allusion to Jacaerys and Daera's marriage in the benefit of the blood assurement.

-So what?-. Daera immediately shrugges, turning to look at her-. Who would dare to question it? Vaemond?-, she huffs, funnily tilting her head-. I trust enought that my uncle will know what's best for him-. The princess mumbles, raising her hand.

-I wouldn't trust that much-, Rhaenys whispers, slowly handing her the cup of wine-. He's Corlys brother, as reckless as him-. She pointed, looking at her granddaughter's hand, which took the goblet.

-Ha-, Daera snorts a laugh, sipping the wine with a funny smile.

Rhaenys stares at the Valyrian steel rings Daera wears in her hands, both with a tiny sapphire gem. She presses her lips, knowing very well who gifted them to her.

-And, speaking of recklessness...-. The older princess mumbles, not pretending her serious gaze. Soon enough, Daera realizes she is staring at her rings. She laughs, with her cheeks full of wine.

-You could borrow one, if you wish-. Burlesque, Daera makes her fingers dance. Rhaenys huffed, tsking her tongue and rolling her eyes-. Blue suits you, grandma, I'll always say it-, she smiles funnily.

-You want to know what I will always say?-. Her grandmother raises her brows towards her. Her granddaughter forms a tender smile, not caring enough of her upcoming reproach.

-...We went out last night-, Daera sweetly informs, playing with her fingers. Rhaenys blinks bigly, shocked-. We both flew on Kalistrox's back-, she giggles, scrunching her nose.

-Where to?-. She immediately asks.

-Sorry, its a secret-. Her granddaughter shrugged. Rhaenys sighs through her nose, closing her eyes, and pleading the gods for patience-. But we had fun, I swear-. The princess nods proudly.

Rhaenys hums, looking away with a downcast look, as she hears Daera sipping the wine. The older princess blinks for a few moments, thinking about the dangerous and reckless secret marriage of her granddaughter. She can't believe its been a year already.

-I wonder, Daera...-. Rhaenys looks back at her. Daera blinks, calmly, swallowing the wine-. I wonder if your lover will be happy when he hears of your family's strategy, in the audience-. She murmurs as low as possible, raising her brows.

-He's not my lover-. Daera immediately corrects, playing with the goblet between her hands-. He's my husband-, she raises her brows as well.

-Huh-, Rhaenys nods, burlesque.

-I know you heartily wish for me to be mad with Aemond, grandma, I understand it-. Daera sighs, standing up of her chair, and walking to her with serene steps-. But the strength of my heart is not not fickle-, she softly whispers, tilting her head.

-I wish no madness from you, Daera, but for your eyes to open at last-. Rhaenys immediately corrects, walking closer to her as well. Her granddaughter sighs, smiling tiredly, really not listening to her-...It is getting late for so-, she slowly whispers.

Daera sucks her inferior lip, nodding. She leans front, placing a tender kiss on both of her grandma's cheeks, sweetly gripping her hands.

-Its getting late, indeed, and I have things to do before the hearing-. She sighs, forming a beautiful smile as she started to walk away, leaving her hands holding the air.

-Daera-, Rhaenys calls her, tired.

-Thanks for the wine!-. Daera funnily snaps her fingers, blowing a kiss to her, and walking out of the chambers within a second.

Left alone in her rooms, Rhaenys sighed, exhausted, scratching her forehead with a tired expression.

When that girl knows her true reality...it'll be hard, The Queen Who Never Was thinks.

■ ■ ■

Daera walks through The Red Keep's hallways, humming a song as she freely goes. The castle is starting to wake up already, mostly servants and handmaidens. There are just a few lords and ladies of the court walking around. No matter who they were, she greeted them all.

Luke and Rhaena's betrothal may be one of the best news she has received in her entire life. When she went with them to tell the others, they went as insane as she. How could they not?! The proposal is the best, no matter from what angle its look at.

When they gathered at Rhaenyra and Daemon's quarters they were all talking so happily and excited, having the biggest of faith in the youngers's upcoming marriage. The Rogue Prince seemed to heartily agree on the matter, as well as The Heir to The Iron Throne. Although, matters to say that Rhaenyra seemed a little...off, perhaps too stressed, of course, but also sad. However, when Daera quietly asked her, she just caressed her face, and simply answered she hasn't had breakfast yet.

Truth is Rhaenyra had a very rough night. The babes wouldn't stop crying because of the loud storm and the cradles they are not use to sleep in, besides, she wouldn't stop crying either when she visited her father's chambers, pleading him to defend her family. Nevertheless, a ill and weak man was the one wheezing at her.

Baela, as well as the others, was also thrilled with the exciting news of Rhaena and Luke's betrothal. However, the girl couldn't avoid to feel sort of...cast aside. No, no, those are not the words. Sad. There it is. She felt...sad. It gladdens her so much to see her younger sister engaged to someone she obviously like, but, at the same time, it reminded her how the boy she herself used to like got married, at the end, with her older sister. Baela is a strong person, mature enough to know what's better and to not let her feelings affect the general wellbeing. She doesn't like Jace anymore, in the romantic way she thinks she once did. However, she simply got...sad.

When Daera walks pass by the training patio, by a first glance she thought it was empty. But, soon enough, she realized there was one person in there. The princess stops, curious, lifting a side of her lips into a smile.

Jacaerys stands in front of one of the tables of the patio, softly caressing the different weapons in there. He sees Criston's morningstar, and touch it with delicacy, feeling its little peaks. He breathes with calm, lost in his thoughts.

-Catch!-, a familiar voice tells him.

Within a second, a sword of wood clashes with his arm. Jace gasps, flinching surprised, but immediately grabbing it in time. He raises his gaze, finding Daera walking to him with a cocky smile, having her head tilted, and also carrying a wooden sword in her arms.

Jace smiles, taking a training position within a second. His sister wife smirks, humms, and then suddenly went up against him, raising her sword. He clenches his jaw, raising his as well, and avoiding her to poke him.

-Are you nervous, about all this situation?-. She asks, with a hand delicately placed behind her back.

The boy briefly grunts, pressing his sword against hers, but she puts too much resistance, making him to force himself and, quickly, destabilize, and stumble when she stepped away.

-Always recall to not lunge without fixing on your opponent's own posture, Jace-. Daera calmly speaks, turning to look at him again. He nods, breathing fast-. Brute force is a fool's ally-, she pointed.

Jacaerys walks towards her, raising her sword again, and now attacking her softer, but swifter than before. She grunts a little laugh, noding.

-I am happy for Luke, and for Rhaena-. He finally answers, making pressure against her weapon. Daera hums, watching at his feet-. Both of them are too poltroon to confess they like each other, so this will help them, doubtlessly-. He pointed, making her to laugh.

-We agree-, she chuckles-. Soften your knees-. The princess whispers. He gulps, doing so, and instantly looking back at her again.

Daera sucks her cheeks, and then pushed him with a single hand. Surprised, he quickly answered, covering himself with his sword before hers would poke him.

-Oh!-, she raised her brows.

-Oh-, he mocked, smiling.

The wood clashed, and they both laugh, starting to fight with fastness, drawing the swords from side to side while they circle in the same place, breathing fast.

-But, yes!-. Jace talks while they fight-. I am nervous-, he confesses, with his chest coming up and down. Daera pressed her lips, glancing at his face for a brief moment-. Anyone who doubts Luke, doubts me-. The prince says, answering as quickly as possible to all of her swift moves-. But he is a child! He'll learn to sail-, he says, convinced.

That is obviously not the main problem at all. Daera sighs through her nose, hating herself for thinking that. The cause of Vaemond claiming the Driftwood throne for him its not because Luke doesn't knows how to navigate. No! Would that be the case, he himself would gladly teach him. Vaemond's cause is Velaryon blood, and the absence of such in Lucerys's veins.

-Jace, control your breathing! You cannot be running out of air that quick! Deep breaths, remember?-. Daera reproaches, raising her brows.

Jacaerys gulps, trying to breath calmer as he keeps clashing his sword against hers. The princess hums, slowing down her attacks a little when she talks again.

-Those who doubt you, are mummers-. Daera raises her brows, fastly twirling on her place, and hitting Jace's knees with her sword when she slightly bent her legs. He tsks with pain, though he is smiling, quickly stepping back-. Luke and Rhaena will govern Driftmark, and you and I will rule The Seven Kingdoms-, she stated, so confident, raising her sword within a second.

-Indeed!-. He answered with pride, grumbling while making pressure against her weapon as strongly as he could.

-The Hightowers, nowdays, think they are the ones who decide and dictate the fate of the kingdoms-. The princess whispers with steadiness, breathing so calmly although pushing against him. Since both of them are so harshly pressing on the other, their chest are almost touching, and their gazes are totally connected. He breathes fastly through his mouth, staring at her purple eyes-, but they forget we have something they do not-, she mumbles.

Jace glances down at her chest when seeing it coming up and down. That was his mistake. Within a second, Daera pulls her sword down, and then harshly up, automatically throwing Jace's away.

He gasps, defenseless, looking at her with an agitated smile. Daera smirks, sticking the sword into the ground, and resting her elbows on the handle.

-...Pure fire and blood-, the princess whispered cockily, making the prince to form a wide grin on his open lips.

■ ■ ■

Aemond is already back to The Red Keep.

As promised, he flew off Lovers Island around an hour after his wife did. In the meantime, he talked with his dragon, in the beach, pampering her old chin, and then organized all the things they used last night. He folded the bed sheets back in their coffer, he put the cups back in their place as well. He cleaned the fireplace, and let ready a new set of firewood for when the next time they go.

When he arrived to the bay, with Vhagar, he found it weird to not see Kalistrox anywhere around. He wondered if Daera was still flying with him, which is the most likely, for he hasn't seen her since he arrived and, plus, he knows she would never leave him in The Dragonpit.

Aemond is walking in one of the hallways of the castle, in its hightest towers. The prince is already bathed and dressed, wearing his usual Targaryen blacks. He's heading to have something for breakfast, at last, for he is literally starving.

As he walks, The One-Eyed Prince dreams about the memories of last night, the lovely evening he had with his wife. After a long day full of stress, jealousy, boredness and annoyment, the sneaking out to their island was just perfect, just as they deserved. She is the person he feels the most comfortable with. I mean, the girl fucks him gladly, time after time, while he is literally with a cave on the left side of his face. So, yeah, the trust is quite big. And he will be the father of her children! Their children!

Before being able to start day dreaming about Alyssa Targaryen, and the other thousand kids they'll parent, Aemond suddenly cames out of his thoughts when, after turning on a corner, he bumps into Alicent, from the distance.

The Queen is standing in a balcony, with her Sworn Protector, Ser Criston. He seems serious, even more than usual, and she seems worried, staring forward with her lips opened and crystallized gaze. She's all in green, as always, and has her hands nervously crossed over her belly, holding them tightly.

-We have hoped before, Ser Criston, in the preveliance of decency, and justice-. The redhead speaks deeply, nearly with aguish-. The Mother, so kind-hearted she is, may keep on helping us on the matter-. Alicent says, briefly raising her brows-...Specially today-, she mumbled, holding her wrists tighter.

Aemond stopped walking right when he saw her. He blinked only one time, with his lips open, listening to her. He remembers Daera, and her deep harsh pain caused by not having her mother with her anymore. The thought always makes him shiver, no matter how much he avoids it. In this moment, seeing Alicent, after witnessing the dying nightmare of being motherless, he came to think...how lucky he truly is.

Moments later, Ser Criston became aware of The Queen's second son's presence. Alicent, by that, also turned her head around. When she finds Aemond in there, steadily standing, she gulped, forcing herself to hide her worriness from before.

-Aemond-, she softly named him-. What are you doing awake this early?-. She asks, glancing at the dawning sky-. Perhaps you could...use some more sleep, son-. She gives him one dead and fast smile.

The one-eyed says no word, and he just started walking towards her with long and firm steps. Alicent blinks, confused for a second, until her son's arms wrapped her body from a moment to another, and he hugged her tightly to his chest, keeping her in there.

She goes into shock, moveless, not having expected that. Ser Criston's eyes flickered, and he slowly looked away, giving them privacy, but unable to hide a little smile on his lips. Aemond places his chin on his mother's red hair, sniffing her soft eucalyptus oil aroma.

-Everything will turn out as it should-. He speaks under his breath, feeling her slow breathing-. You are the justice, dear mother...and justice must always prevail-. Aemond swears, with confidence, and tenderness.

Slowly, Alicent closes her eyes, letting go the pressure on her lips, and putting pressure on her arms when surrounding them all around her boy's back, hugging him back with even greater force. She tsks her tongue, curving her brows, and placing her cheek on his left arm. Aemond closes his eye, allowing her mother to breathe as worriedly as she needed to.

■ ■ ■

The skies are already lighter, and the sun has came up entirely, dying the clouds of a light yellow tone, though everything is still mostly grey. Even though the morning has officially arrived, the bells that announce the beginnings of the royal duties haven't ringed yet.

One of the many gardens The Red Keep posses is placed in one high floor at the middle of the castle. The bushes and flowers are all beautiful, all of them colorful, having little playful sparrows flying around them.

This garden isn't the biggest, at all, but it still has the capacity of hosting a generous amoung of people. A bunch of lords and ladies of the court are gathered here at the moment. And, with them, some members of the royal family are taking fresh air as well. Fresh air is of need, in this stressful day.

Rhaenyra and Daemon are in here, with Baela and Joffrey, the four of them gathered in the middle of the garden, talking only between them, keeping serious appearances. Rhaenys is also at presence, but not near them. The Lady of Driftmark is standing, all alone, at the balcony of the garden, looking up at the sky with thoughtfulness, thinking about everything and all at once.

Alicent, near the middle of the garden, stands with Ser Criston, Vaemond, and Lord Tyland Lannister, each of them silent, and just looking around with their sour and calculating gazes. Lord Larys Strong stands alone, close to them, always keeping an eye on The Queen, and her green shoes.

-I want to go fly with Tyraxes!-, Joffrey was pleading to their parents, jumping on his place.

-Joff!-, Baela reproaches.

-Its still too early, Joffrey-. Rhaenyra says with a tender gaze.

-Ah but it wasn't too early to wake me up?!-. The boy instantly complains. Daemon laughed sharply, looking down at him.

In a certain moment, Aemond arrives to the garden as well, by himself. He came as soon as he heard most of the royal ones were gathered here. He always studies the political enviroments of his home, and boy, isn't this the greatest.

The One-Eyed Prince walks firmly and hurriless between the light crowd, analyzing the people around, in silence. He receives some gazes, but ignores them all. His eye meet with Rhaenyra's, and they both shared a dry quick look. Aemond looks at Daemon, who was looking back at him with disinterest and boredom, soon looking away too.

The one-eyed hums lowly, ignoring them, and heading towards another direction. He couldn't avoid to notice, either way, that Baela and Joffrey were the only ones with them. Where the hell is Daera? It is beyond weird that she isn't with them. When she isn't with them, its because she's with him, or with Helaena, but he knows she's not with his sister, for he just comes from having breakfast with her and the children, a meal Helaena herself expected to also share with her dear cousin.

As Aemond walks, he locks his eye in one white long mane. His steps became slow, for he immediately knew who that was. Princess Rhaenys. He presses his lips, staring at her back for long silent seconds. It should be noted that the last time he saw his wife's grandmother, was the very day of their wedding. As he never flies to Driftmark, and she never comes to King's Landing, they hadn't met during all the year pass...until now.

The One-Eyed Prince humss lowly, crossing his hands behind his back. After looking around, he headed towards the old princess, soon reaching her side at the balcony.

Rhaenys pressed her lips at the moment she noticed who arrived to her left. She keeps staring front, at all moment, as so does he.

-Princess Rhaenys-, he politely greeted, giving a light nod.

-Prince Aemond...-, she nearly sighed his name, dragging it in the air. Aemond blinks slowly, staring at the clouds-. I understand Daera and you sneaked out, last night, as she well told me-. The princess mumbles, disinterested.

The prince couldn't help but to feel a little surprised. He expected, at least, a polite conversation, a fake one of course, but still. It seems Rhaenys doesn't care much about fakeness. Good, he doesn't either.

-Yes-, his husky voice answers-. We had a comfortable time in our own-. He nods, side-eyeing her.

The princess huffs through her nose, clearly pulling a face. The prince keeps looking at her, with his gaze turning slightly sour. He never forgets the complicated position of Daera's grandmother in their love.

-I find it proper to remind you, princess, that your granddaughter and I heartily appreciate your long-lasting cooperation on the abouts of our relation-. Aemond speaks with mannerly-...and to also remind you, that we do not pray nor wish to convince you of its prevailing-. He pointed, serious.

-I remind you, prince Aemond, it is not worth it for you to even try to-. Rhaenys answered within a second, briefly shaking her head, and making her mane to move-. I love my granddaughter, namely the only reason why I force myself to tolerate the relation-, she raises her brows.

Aemond clenches his jaw, looking around as he breathes deep in through his nose. It is stressing, to only have two allies, Helaena and Rhaenys, and that the latter one is just in because of, what? pity?

-I do not know what exactly I have done to you, princess, to deserve such obvious disapproval-. The prince speaks with a sarcastic politeness, tilting his head-. When I claimed Vhagar, that night, it was because nothing but m-

-Please-. Rhaenys interrupted him with a soft scoff. He leaves his mouth open, looking at her-. My mourning of my daughter has nothing to do with wishing the safest to her own daughter-, she pointed with a low and hard voice, shaking her head, only staring upfront.

Aemond furrows his brows lightly, blinking bigly. Safest?

-I have never done no harm to Daera, and I never would-. He heartily defended himself, crossing his hands tighter behind his back.

He obviously lacks an eye, the princess thinks, for he's not seeing the big picture.

-As things stand, prince Aemond, your family is rooting for the victory of Vaemond Velaryon, today at court-. Rhaenys speaks with a tired insistment, shaking her head-. Hers, for Lucerys's-, she pointed, unable to be more clear.

-And who are you rooting for, princess?-. He immediately asks, narrowing his eye.

-It is of no matter to you-. Rhaenys turns around, suddenly facing him, looking at him for the first time. The prince clenches his jaw tighter, looking back at her with harshness, and caution-. Daera and you do not share the same values, nor the same moral-. She states, doubtless.

-The princess and I know very well how to deal with our political differences-. Aemond quickly keeps defending himself, and his love-. Our ideologies do not contrast, mayhaps, however, we-

-I've heard that speech more times that I can count-. The princess interrupted him with no shame, snorting. He open his eye big, wordless-. You both can keep reciting it all the times you wish to, but here is the truth-. She takes a step closer to him, speaking even lower than before-. If you so much root for the right of kingship of your older brother...you despise the rightful queenship of the wife you so steadfastly claim to love-. Rhaenys tilted her head to a side, softly. Aemond felt his heart pounding heavily, and his throat drying up. He shakes his head, sucking his cheeks-. I must be honest, I didn't expect for you to last this long...but its been two years already-, her calculating voice whispers.

-Against the odds-. Aemond immediately said, firmly, not letting himself to be so easily defeated.

-What odds?-. Rhaenys narrows both her eyes-. There are no odds in the bubble of dreams you both have been living in-, she shakes her head-. But what about now, prince Aemond? With this dilemma? All of your families gathered together in the same place, again. You two slinking like rats of cats...again-, a burlesque murmur left her lips-. No, you are too much of...Alicent Hightower's son, for that-, she looks at him from head to toe, judgy.

-That bubble that you claim does not exists, Rhaenys-. Aemond speaks again, and this time, he didn't hide the irk in his voice, the annoyment. That made her to smile, lifting a side of her lips-. My wife and I both are pretty familiar with our reality, and we surely know how it works-. He narrows his only eye, leaning his head back-. We accept that reality and, as much as it may bothers you, we are married in it-. His confident and proud voice dictated, lifting his chin.

-And yet, only four people in the wholeness of The Seven Kingdoms know that truth, you two included-. Rhaenys is quick in her answer as well, tauntly raising her brows. Aemond gulps strongly, looking at her with pain, and resentment. She doesn't care at all, giving a soft slow blink-...Our dearest, Daera, is wife to Jacaerys Velaryon-. The princess calmly mutters.

Aemond closes his lips harshly, forbidding himself to gasp or sobb. He stays as firm as a rock, staring at her with his strong gaze. Rhaenys blinks again and, as if nothing happened, turned around and quietly walked away from him, knowing what her words did to him, and hoping they would have a further effect.

Not even a minute passed, when a echoing roar is suddenly heard from up the skies. Everybody in the garden immediately turned their head to looked up, automatically, staring up with curiosity.

The roar is heard again, and then, within a second, the clouds of the morning are pierced by the majestical bodies of two dragons. Kalistrox and Vermax came together out of the clouds, flying quicker than the wind, side to side, flapping their wings with fastness as they soared in the sky, together.

Ridden by princess Daera, and her husband, prince Jacaerys.

Aemond felt all of his body froze up. His lips opened, staring at the sky with his blinkless huge eye.

Alicent's face dyed with perturbation and annoyment, looking up at the skies, while Vaemond narrowed his sharp eyes, wrinkling his lips, bemused.

All the lords and ladies of the garden gasped loudly, fascinated, as they saw the green and golden dragon lowering their height as they soared with their wings open, flapping them quickly. As The Golden Ray is way bigger than him, Vermax was putting all of his effort to follow him side by side.

Joffrey smiled bigly, clapping, while Daemon and Rhaenyra formed little powerful smiles in their lips, staring up with pride. Baela sighed through her nose as she saw their dragons flying together.

A great power move, indeed.

From Vermax and Kalistrox's backs, Jace and Daera turned their heads to look at each other from close.

As the wind blows all of his mane and cape, the prince stared at his wife with his chin lifted with pride, giving a light nod. The princess stared back at him with a cocky expression and a prideful smile, noding back to him as her dragon's back curves while he flaps. Daera winked him an eye, and he inevitably chuckled, both of them feeling so big, and powerful.

Vermax and Kalistrox both roared as they flew just above of the garden, causing a bunch of surprised and mesmerized gasps from below. Right at the moment the dragons flew over his head, prince Aemond quickly turned his body around to keep looking at them, having his lips open.

The One-Eyed Prince takes short steps forward, following them with his shocked and cold gaze. His fists closed with seriousness and impotence as he stares at the neared beasts. His chest comes up and down with slowness, and his heart beats sourly, resented, annoyed.

From the distance, Princess Rhaenys read his expression with easiness, and a burlesque calmed smirk crossed her lips, with an obvious expression of "I told you so".

Oblivious to all the different feelings of the people down there, Vermax and Kalistrox's riders kept flying away from The Red Keep, ruling the skies, remembering everyone about their power as they triumphantly and mightly commanded their dragons to roar.

■ ■ ■

After flying around the skies for another while, Jacaerys landed Vermax in The Dragonpit, where he left him for the dragonkeepers to feed him and take him to his cave. His wife landed her dragon on the beach, not at the same time, but after him.

Daera made Jace believed that she would fly with Kalistrox a little longer. She did, for a while, until she saw the royal wheelhouse taking him back to The Red Keep. Afterwards, she left Kalistrox on the beach, with Vhagar, farewelling him with some of her tender kisses on his horns, and greeting her real husband's dragon with a warm smile.

Next, she headed to the city.

As she promised, she has things to do. Dyana. Helaena's lost handmaiden has not faded away from her thoughts, and she is more than willing to find out what happened to her, though she has a keen gut on the subject. In her mind, Aegon raped her. And if no one in the castle knows her situation or whereabouts, she's sure the town can give her some answers.

The Dragon's Goodness doesn't care about hiding her identity when she's in the city, not even now, when there is not even one guard with her. Though she's wearing a coat, she's not wearing its hood, so her white curly mane is freely bouncing in her back as she walks through Flea Bottom and its multiple people. As mentioned before, the princess knows the people, and they know her, and are familiar with her kind person.

She carries her sheathed steel sword in the belt on her hips, as well as a dagger. The princess would greet the people around her, most of them would greet her back, while others would just stare at her, silent and curious, or mistrusted. The children call her by her name when they greet her, with no formality, which she loves. The princess would place generous coins in each hand and cup that begged, which they love.

Daera glances at some rats running near her, in the streets. She chuckled a little, briefly thinking about her Seventh Heaven in Pentos, and the time she literally had to force Aemond into trying fried rat -a delicacy- for the first time in his life. And, of course, he puked.

-My sir, Dunc!-. The princess approaches one of the many fruit stalls in the city, owned by an old man of bald head. He smiled when he saw her approach, crinkling his old eyes-. Good morrow-, she smiles, kindly.

-Good morrow, princess Daera-. The old man greeted her with a raspy polite voice, nodding-. The usual?-, he asks with a tired kindness.

-Please!-, the princess raised her brows, clapping funnily.

Dunc nods with a little laugh, turning to a basket full of sliced papayas, which have several flies circling them. Daera awaits patiently, getting the money out of her pockets as she briefly looks around. If she were Dyana, where would she be?

-Here, princess-, the man speaks with a croky gentle voice, handing her a generous slice of papaya with not one seed on it, grabbing it with some brown paper napkins to not touch it with his bare hands. Daera smiles bigly, taking it with one hand, and paying him with the other-. Thank you, princess-. He nods happily.

-Enough, my name is Daera!-. She says with gentile laughs-. And thank you, Dunc-. She raises her brows, giving a bite to the sweet papaya while he laughs tiredly-. Fuck, this is some fruit!-, the princess grunts, satisfied.

-It fucking is-, Dunc nods proudly with a shy smirk. Daera chuckles funnily, giving it another bite.

-Oh! Emm-. She chews fastly, covering her mouth for a second-. This brings me to a question, if I may-. She says, and he immediately nods, curious-. My good seller, have you seen, perhaps, a new girl wandering here, around the city?-. The princess asks.

-A new girl?-, he mumbles, narrowing his eyes.

-She has pale skin, green eyes, blonde-. Daera raised her brows as she describes Dyana. Meanwhile, Dunc started to shake his head from side to side-. No?-, she whispers, disappointed.

-No, I don't think so-. He shrugged, honest. Daera sighs, forming a small smirk.

-That is fine, no worries. Thank you!-. The princess begins to walk away-. And thank you!-, she raises the fruit, making him laugh-. Have a good day!-, she waves her free hand.

-You too!-. Dunc waves his hand as well.

Daera sighs through her nose as she chews the tasty papaya. As she walks, and eats, she started to ask around to every person she would see, taking a little time of them. However, its plein morning, everybody in Flea Bottom is rather very busy in the multiple chores of their households, or with a hangover that wouldn't allow them to even see the princess clearly. So, understanding that everybody is attending to their own affairs, she dedicated herself to just look around, begging to find the familiar face she is looking for.

A time later, the princess found herself walking through The Street of Steel. A heavy cloud of smoke hangs in the air around all the stone stalls of multiples blacksmiths and hammermen. Ser Harrold would lose his mind if he knew the princess is wandering around, alone, in such place.

Daera knows the little odds of finding Dyana in here, for it is known this is "a man's place". However, she trusts in the fact that, If there is someone who knows about every goddamn walking cunt in Flea Bottom, it is sweaty men.

A sound reaches her interested ears. Multiple whistles and loud cheerings. Daera stops walking, calmly turning her head to the right. She finds four young smiths, of her age, all of them really tall, gathered in one of the steamy stalls, looking at her with big smiles, and inviting glances.

-The greatest beauty in The Seven Kingdoms!-. One of them purrs, looking at her from head to toe.

The princess huffs, amused, glancing at the path forward, and then back at them. After briefly scrunching her nose, letting out a little chuckle, she turns around, and starts walking towards that stall.

Two of the young men immediately cheered and clapped, standing up from their stone benches. The other two's mouths fell in the floor, getting nervous when seeing the princess really approaching towards them.

-Good morrow, lads-. Daera smiles when she walks into the stall, carrying a easy shine on her purple eyes.

-A very good one, indeed...-. One of them sighed under his breath, admiring her clean and impeccable beauty.

-I don't think we've ever met before-. She narrows her eyes, looking at them four-. I'm Daera-, the princess smiles.

-Yeah, we kind of know that-. The tallest one of them nods with his eyes narrowed-. Princess Daera-, he names with passion.

-Oh, please, Daera alone is alright, don't want you to waste your saliva-. She huffs, slowly walking more into the stall.

-I don't matter wasting all my saliva in you, princess, I must say-. Another of the boys mutters with a cocky smirk, blatant. She immediately burst out laughing.

-Jay, that's the princess!-, another one grunted, reproachful, at him.

-Well, I just made the princess laugh!-. "Jay" pointed, proudly, making the other boys to laugh too.

-Yeah yeah, its alright!-. Daera chuckles, shaking her head-. That was creative, I gotta give it to you-, she sighs, pointing at him, who curved his lips into a flirty smirk-. Jay, is it?-, she mumbles.

-If it please you, princess-. He nods, palming the back of the fourth of the boys, who has been all silent, quietly organizing one of the warforged.

-How are your names?-. She curiously asks, looking at the others-. We have Jay in here, and also...-, she pointed at the tallest one, asking him to speak.

-Ajy-, he answers, looking down at her from his height, with a very telling expression of admiring her body.

-I am Jya, princess-. One of the quiet boys raises a hand, giving her a little smile.

-And this is Yja-. Ajy walks to the working boy, jokingly punching his head. The boy tsks, while Daera let out a gentle chuckle.

-The lad has no voice, but don't let yourself be fooled, he knows to work his tongue with a lady, isn't that right?-. Jay grunts burlesque, pinching Yja's waist, making him to tsk again. The others chuckled funnily.

-Ow, I see!-. The princess laughs, curving her brows while seeing at the muted boy, who glanced at her with his cheeks lightly blushed, looking back to his work-. A pleassure to meet you all, Jay, Ajy, Jya and Yja-. She nods softly, staring at all of them.

Daera blinks slowly, narrowing her eyes.

-Wait, your names share the three same letters- hold the fuck up, are you siblings?!-. She surprisedly asked, pointing at all of them. They immediately laugh loudly, elbowing each other-. Ugh, of course! Such heights are no coincidences!-, the princess snorted, rolling her eyes.

-Smart besides being a beauty. We have been blessed by The Seven, brothers-. Ajy smiles with cockiness, elbowing Jay, who chuckled funnily.

Daera gifts him a silent and arrogant smirk, tilting her head to a side as she walks to the table of the stall, looking at the multiple works in there. All of them are gorgeous.

Yja, the mute one, steps aside when she approaches. She gives him a fast kind smile, quickly staring back at the table again.

-And what is a dragoness doing, with no guards, in the city?-. Jay asks her with interest, crossing his strong arms on his chest.

-Uhh, would "looking for fire" be a dumb answer?-. She tauntly mumbless, caressing an iron helmet. The brothers laughed, amused. Daera blinks, about to ask about Dyana.

-Do you like something, princess?-. Jya politely asks, noticing her interested gaze on the table. She blinks bigly, still staring at it.

-You are some talented brothers, but I must confess, this one specially draws my whole attention-. Daera mumbles, pointing to a beautiful single sleeve of chain mail, as red as the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen-...May I?-, she looks at Yja.

-Yes yes. Of course. Please-. The three brothers answered, while the mute one hummed and nodded, as excited as them.

Daera hums, taking the sleeve off its place. Under the gaze of the four tall brown-haired brothers, the princess slides her left arm into the sleeve, and it fit perfectly.

-Ohh, stunning!-. She gasps, seeing how the piece molds her arm's figure at its best. They smile, proud of their work-. Wow, the weight is perfect, why don't you work for the crown?-. Daera asks, truly interested.

The four of them stayed silent for two seconds, suddenly a sort of uncomfortable.

-We...-, Jya begins to talk.

-We just don't-. Ajy answered, simply raising his brows.

-Fair answer-, Daera slowly nods, murmuring. She looks at the sleeve, smiling when seeing it again. She loves how it fits her-...Do you happen to know, casually, a girl called Dyana?-. The princess asks, lifting her gaze.

-I fucked a Dyana once-. Jay instantly nods.

-Jay!-. Jya immediately hisses, punching his chest.

-You're right, it was four times-. Jay corrects. Yja rolls his eyes.

-Then I doubt we're speaking about the same Dyana, Jay-. Daera sighs.

-She said my name-, Jay proudly mumbles.

-We heard-. Jya scoffs.

-She is of pale skin, short and blonde, green eyes-. The princess describes her, with her brows lightly up-. She may be new in the city, if that helps you-. She adds, hopeful.

-Sorry, princess-. Jya shakes his head, as well as Yja did, shrugging.

-Wait-. Ajy narrows his eye, and she quickly looks at him-. Your description fits someone, but, are you sure her name isn't Anna?-, he asks.

-Anna? No, no, its Dyana-. Daera blinks multiple times, confused-. Whose description does it fits?-, she questions.

-A new whore arrived to The Street of Silk, just yesterday at The House of The Roses, Anna-. Ajy points, having his arms crossed over his chest.

Daera grew speechless, blinking with terror, and feeling her heart sinking. It can't be...

-In a brothel?-. She repeats, approaching to Ajy with her eyes big open. He quietly nods, seeing her coming nearer-. Did you see her?-, she asks.

-I did. As pale as a cloud-. Ajy answers. The princess gulps strongly, leaning her head back with mistrust and hurt, looking at him with her lips harshly pressed, thinking the worst-. I didn't talk to her-, he says.

-Why didn't you?-. The princess quickly questions.

-Because I don't fuck children-. Ajy answered with firmness and cockiness, tilting his head as well as hers. Daera opens her lips, still worried, but feeling a weight leaving her chest.

-Well, that is a huge achievement in these days, it appears-. The princess slowly says, raising her brows. Ajy curves his frown a little, perturbated, as well as his brothers.

Daera decides that it has been enough talk. She has a clue, and there is not a chance she will not follow it.

-How much for the sleeve?-. The princess asks, turning to look at the other brothers. Behind her, Ajy smiles surprised, biting his lips.

-Wha-whatever you can offer, princess!-. Jya smiles happily.

-Shut up, cunt!-. Jay grunts pushing him away. Jya groans, crashing against a wall and falling on the floor-. Sixty dragons-, he raises his brows towards the princess.

-Sixty dragons-. Daera laughs funnily, reaching in her pockets. The brothers glanced between them, cheerful-. Here you have eighty, for the nice talk-. She winks an eye, handing him the golden coins.

-Seven hells, seven hells-. Jay whispers, shocked, looking at all that money-. And- and the information about your friend? We deserve a reward for that as well-, he bigly smiles.

-JAY!-. Jya yells from the floor.

-Enough, you clown-. Ajy pushes Jay away, while Daera laughs loudly, hitting her own legs.

-Here, for the information of my friend-. The princess giggles, handing him another twenty dragons. He closes his lips, moveless-. Take it!-, she insists. The tallest brother sighs, taking the coins. Jay howls out of happiness in the back. Yja rolled his eyes, again.

Daera sighs, glancing at her new red chain mail sleeve, and then at the brothers again.

-Cheers, fellas-. She mumbles.

Right after, The Dragon's Goodness left that stall, with quick steps and a worried expression, trying to not show it too much. Her feet walk as fast as her heart pounds.

The idea of finding Dyana at a brothel haunts her entirely but, at the same time, she just wants to see her, find her, see that she's okay! One part of her is begging that Ajy is wrong about this. About Anna.

It didn't took long for the princess to arrive to The Street of Silk, which has a quite different air, compared to The Street of Silk. As she walks, Daera receives countless longing glances and lusty looks from the prostitutes of outside, all of them dining the attractive princess with their eyes.

Helaena always blushes so hard when they walk by these streets, Daera briefly thinks for a second.

Soon, she reached The House of The Roses, a brothel of the many in the city. Not waiting for anything, she knocks both the doors with her closed fists, as calmly as she could.

-Hello! Someone home?!-. Daera asks loudly-. Please stop fucking!-, she begs, burlesque, looking around. A giggle came from a woman near her, with all of her tits out-. Hey there-, she greets, raising her brows.

-Hello, princess-, she shyly moves her fingers.

The doors are finally open, making Daera to nearly gasp. A black-haired adult woman opened, and when she saw the white haired brown-skinned girl, she did gasp.

-Princess Daera!-. She immediately bows.

-Hello!-, Daera sings with a hidden hurry, curving her frown-. Oh no need, no need, please-. She softly touches her arm, making her to stand straight again.

-It is the greatest of honors to have you here, princess-. The woman sighs, smiling.

-Thank you, may I come in?-. Daera points inside.

-You may, please!-. The lady immediately nods, thrilled.

The princess walks in, looking all around. She founds a reception filled with red and orange curtains of silk. It strongly smells to roses oil, but the sound of moans is even stronger. Groans and sighs are coming from behind every wall of the place.

It was not the time to remember the brothel she and Aemond visited in Pentos, but she did.

-You may tell me all of your wishes, princess, and none will be judged-. The owner of the brothel speaks with pride, smiling to her-. I can get all of my best ladies, and you may choose the one of your desire, or the ones-. She raises her brows, narrowing her eyes.

Daera sighs, facing her fully, and taking her hands in hers, gripping them softly. The woman blinks, highly surprised, looking at her with great interest, not having expected such warm touch.

-I only look for one, my lady-. The princess murmurs-. The new one...-, she says, and the woman starts to nod, surprised-...Anna-. Daera lowly whispered, serious.

■ ■ ■

The door of the room quietly opens. The chamber is a big one, with a huge bed in the middle, countless red curtains all around, around three incenses are lighted, and burning a heavy cinnamon smell.

A silent girl enters with slow steps. She is wearing a thin dress of pink silk, too long for her stature. She is short, and blonde, of big green eyes, and a pale skin. Dyana.

With a shy gaze, she slowly closes the door again, staring at the insides of the chambers. A person is quietly standing in one of the windows, wearing a long black coat and a hood, back to her.

Dyana gulps, taking a last deep breath.

-I am all yours, my lord...-. Her innocent, fragile voice speaks, with a hidden fear.

After hearing those words, the hooded person turns around. Princess Daera was the one in front of her, having her purple eyes filled with worries, and her lips opened in shock.

The blonde girl immediately gasped, and froze completely. Her throat got afflicted, and her lungs ran out of air in that moment.

-Dyana...-, Daera sighed, breathless, quickly walking to her, worried, relieved, scared.

-Pri-pri-princess Daera-. She stutters, starting to tremble entirely. The princess curves her brows, sensing her fear-. I...I left the castle, I did what they asked me to do!-. Her voice shrieks, frightened.

Daera blinks, feeling her heart twirling.

-Don't be scared of me, you're safe, you are completely safe-. She shakes her head, shushing. Dyana gulps strongly, nervously moving her hands.

-I...I...I- I don't...-. She keeps stuttering, airless.

-Come, come-. The princess whispers, without touching her, pointing to the bed and directing her towards there. Trembling, Dyana walks, feeling how bad all of her body is sweating-. Sit, please, I'll fetch you some water-. She says, heading to the night table.

Dyana sits down in the bed, feeling the deep old mattress below her. The girl trembles and whimpers, already with tears on her eyes. She feels a weight joining her, on her right.

-Here...-. Daera softly murmurs, heading the glass to her lips, which are all shaking-. Drink, sweet dove, you are safe-. She whispers, carefully placing the cup in her mouth.

Dyana closes her eyes, starting to swallow the water almost with despair, finding it so refreshing. As she sobs while she gulps, the princess keeps staring at her with a worried gaze, having her lips closed as she holds the cup for her.

Within ten seconds, the glass was already empty. Daera places it in the bed, immediately forgetting about it. She looks at the girl, who looks back at her with a fast shaky breathing.

-Why does Flea Bottom keeps telling me you are named Anna?-. The princess softly asks, furrowing her brows-. What are you doing in here, Dyana?-, she questions.

Dyana gulps, as mute as the boy the princess met before. The blonde stutters, nervous, and scared. Daera stops looking at her, drawing her gaze down.

-I apologize, I understand that, whatever situation it may be, it is not easy-, she sincerely mumbles, caressing her own skirt-. I'll tell you what I am doing here, would you like that?-. She asks, still not looking at her.

-...Ye-yes, princess-. The girl answers after some silent seconds, now trembling a little less.

-Alright-. Daera nods, playing with her fingers, staring at her sapphire rings-. I arrived yesterday, to the castle, onlh to find out that my cousin, Helaena, has a new maiden, and that...nobody knew what has happened to you, or where you were. The last time you were seen, you were sent to...Aegon's chambers, I'm told-. The princess mumbles, speaking as softly as she could.

Dyana afflicted her throat, immediately tensing up her whole body when she heard that name. Tears started to gather in her clear eyes.

-I beg you to forgive me, Dyana, but the worst of thoughts inevitably clouded my mind, for I know my cunt of a cousin is no good-. Daera shakes her head, clenching her jaw, looking at her rings-. Dyana, I...I believe he touched you, when you didn't want to be touched-. She says, finally looking up again.

She finds heavy sorrowful tears in the eyes of the child. Daera's chest hurted, and she felt tears also reaching her worried gaze. That look, that only scared look, says it all.

-You- you...-. Dyana stutters, breathless, trembling.

Daera blinks with pain, covering her mouth with her knuckles while staring at her.

-You are not...-the girl breathes in as deeply as she could, and two sour tears rolled down her cheeks-, you are not mista- mistaking, princess-. Her broken voice confessed, shameful.

The lips of the princess trembled, and her soul left her body in that moment, sighing in shock.

-I- I was fetching the prince his wine, as I was trying to- to ignore the- the thing, on his trousers-. Dyana starts telling, sobbing. Daera opens her eyes big, speechless-. When I turned around, he- he wasn't there anymore, I didn't know where he was!-. Her sweaty brows curved, and her voice broke even more-. The prince grabbed me from behind, and- and...!-, she breathes fastly.

-Dyana-, the princess quickly shakes her head.

-He placed me on the floor...!-, the girl shrieks.

-That is enough-. Daera interrupts with a shaky voice, gulping strongly. Dyana sobbs and whimpers stoppless, not breathing properly-. Do not live it again. I know-, she raises her brows, feeling her lips lightly trembling-. I know, child...-, she whispers.

-Princess, I- I am sorry, I am sorry-. The girl breathes her words with hurry and fear, shaking her head. Daera shakes her head as well, bemused-. I am so sorry-, she desperately sighs.

Daera suddenly grabs a hand of hers in her both. Dyana gasped before such warmness touching her cold skin.

-You will never, never, have to apologize for what happened to you-. The princess denies with a strong voice, that at the same time is compassive, and tender. Dyana sobbs, blinkless, while looking at her-. My cousin is a fool son of a bitch, a wastrel who I will deal with! And you...you didn't deserve it, no one does-. Daera whispers bitterly, raising her brows, caressing her fingers-. And you definitely do not deserve to be in a place like this, in a job like this-. She sighs, narrowing her eyes-. Why...why are you here?-, she asks, honestly confused.

Dyana gulps, reaching some air before answering, feeling her tears burning her red cheeks.

-They...they gave me a bag of coins, for me to get out of the castle and...and a tea-, her weak voice says.

Daera touches her belly, out of pure instinct, thinking about her upcoming child. A bag of money, to buy her silence, and a tea, a Moon Tea.

-Who did?-, she asks with a low whisper, blinkless.

-The Queen did-. Dyana mutters. Daera closes her eyes strongly, feeling her blood immediately boiling, her chest pounding fastly.

She was right, unfortunately, she was all the way right. Aegon is a monster. His mother hides to fight his nature. And Ser Erryk...this is what he has so worried about, yesterday's morning, she'd wadger, hiding the prince's ugly secrets too.

-Coward-, she mumbles-. Fucking cowards!-. Daera grunts, lightly startling the girl.

-The Queen believed me-, the girl adds with nerves, curving her brows-. She believed me but- but said that nobody else would-. She thinly whispers. Daera scoffs, bemused, sucking her cheeks-. What else is someone as young as me supposed to- supposed to do, but to...to try to make a living, out of my body?-. Dyana weakly says, looking like she wanted to convince herself.

Dyana is five and ten years old.

Daera gulps, immediately beginning to shake her head.

-No, I will not permit this, Dyana-. The princess whispers, firmly-. You are a child, not a hole, and these are definitely not the talents of yours-. She denies, raising her brows.

-Princess, I...-. The girl smiles, brokenly, and sadly-...I do not have another option-. She states.

The princess sniffs her nose, leaning front, and slowly placing her forehead on hers. Dyana opens her lips, looking at her from up close. The same warmness of her hands is in her eyes.

-I will tell the owner of the place to give you food, and a chamber to yourself, until I come back for you-. Daera firmly whispers. Dyana blinks bigly, confused-. She will not allow anyone you don't want to lay a single eye on you, while I return-. She raises her brows.

-Return? Pri-princess, I don't understand...-, she lowly whispers. Daera looks deeply at her teary eyes.

-I want to take you to Dragonstone-. The Dragon's Goodness proposed. Dyana gasped, going speechless-. You would join me, and my family, right when we leave King's Landing-, she raises her brows-. In there, you would perform the talents I know you do have, and no one will touch you, unless you want them to-. Daera dictated, firmly.

Dyana's throat trembles as she gasps time after time, looking at her with shiny eyes, the fear fading away for them, and being replaced by hope.

-Yes, yes, yes-. Silly, she starts to whisper and nod.

-Would you like that, dove?-, the princess sweetly mumbles, caressing her hands.

The girl sobs weakly, nodding endlessly, and then broking out crying again, now of relief. She leaned front, not holding herself anymore, and was welcomed by the warm chest of the princess and her tender hands cupping her head.

-Thank you, thank you!-. Dyana brokenly shrieks, almost feeling that this is not real.

-Its okay, do not thank me-. Daera sweetly whispers, closing her eyes as she caress her blonde hair-...You are safe-, she promised.

■ ■ ■

The hall of The Iron Throne is already starting to get filled with people, slowly, as the succession hearing is everytime closer.

All lords and ladies from the court are present in the room. Lords Tyland and Jason Lannister talk with Lord Caswell and Lord Vaemond himself, who is more than properly dressed. He has an inflated chest and a proud face.

The Lady of Driftmark is also at place and, with her, her second granddaughter, Baela. She decided to stay with her grandmother during the hearing, for she didn't want to leave her standing alone before The Hightowers. Baela will, however, support her siblings as much as possible, from her place.

As The Hand is attending to the morning treatment of The King of The Seven Kingdoms, The Queen and her children are already in the hall as well. Alicent is walking around the room, anxious, sometimes talking with some people.

Aegon is seated at the start of the staircase of The Iron Throne, constantly huffing and sighing, totally bored. He opens and closes his bent legs, making funny sounds with his mouth. At his side, his sworn protector, Ser Erryk, is firmly standing, just blinking.

Aemond is in the staircase as well, but far from his older brother. The One-Eyed Prince, having his arms crossed behind his back, is staring endlessly at the throne, from a safe distance. Blinkless, he almost looks lusty for it, thinking about all the solutions to his life the possesion of that chair would give him.

To his eye, this is the most beautidul seat of The Seven Kingdoms. If he was King...gods.

Some light steps get closer to him, and when he tilts his head to see, he finds Helaena approaching to him with her hands crossed over her belly, and a tiny smirk on her lips.

Aemond answers the small smile, looking back at The Iron Throne. Helaena blinks, staring boredly at it, not finding anything amazing on it. Its rather ugly.

The sweet princess thinks about the breakfast she had with her children, and Aemond. Her handmaiden, Claudia, was in the room as well, so she didn't had the opportunity to ask him something.

-How did it go with Daera?-. She questions, briefly tilting her head, looking at her crossed hands.

Aemond smiles, sucking the interior of his cheeks, and narrowing his eye with cockiness.

-You may be aunt really soon-, he lowly whispered, leaning towards her.

Helaena immediately flinches, opening her eyes big, and gasping with the biggest of smiles. Aemond chuckles, nodding silently. Aegon turned to look at them with an annoyed face.

Meanwhile, in the lonely outsides of the hall, right behind the tall huge doors of it, Rhaenyra and Daemon are in the company of two of their children, the bethroted ones, Rhaena and Luke.

-Oh for the gods sake-, The Heir to The Iron Throne sighs, looking all around while she caresses her pregnant belly.

-How can she be so late?!-. Rhaena asks, bemused-. Ugh, Daera!-. She rolls her eyes, annoyed.

-Fucking hells-, Daemon is just constantly swearing, with his hands resting on Dark Sister's handle.

Lucerys plays with his fingers endlessly, feeling his heart about to blow. He's wandering his gaze all around, as well as his mother, pleading to see his older sister arriving already. Instead, he sees his older brother coming.

-Jace!-, Rhaenyra immediately raises her brows. Her firstborn is approaching with quick steps and a fasted breath, hurried-. Did you find her?-, she fastly asks.

-Where is she?-. Daemon questions with a sharp tone.

-Where?-, Rhaena asks as well, while her betrothed gulps dryly.

-I...I could not find her-. Jacaerys answers within a sighs, ashamed. His family blinked and sighed, stressed-. I didn't see her anywhere-. He shakes his head.

Luke has Jace, Baela and Rhaena with him, to not mention his parents. The supporting of his siblings is what mostly keeps him considerably confident, right know, but he cannot stand the lacking of one, much less Daera. She's the one who always answers for them when she has to, the one who never fears fighting back, and the one who always steps in front of him when he's being menaced by someone or something. He needs her, and...and it ashames him deeply.

-Fuck! Is she counting the bloody clouds in the fucking sky?!-. Daemon snorts, opening his eyes big-. I am gonna dry up in here-, he scoffs.

-Go look for her again, Jace-. Rhaenyra commands him, lifting her chin. Jacaerys does the same, instantly nodding. Lucerys opens his lips, taking a step back-. Ask the servants if they have se-

-No-. Luke suddenly interrupted her, stepping front again. They all look at him, surprised, for he had been extremely silent-. Daemon is right, we cannot wait forever-. He says, fighting against the desire of his voice to tremble-. We...we must go in, already-. He decides.

Rhaenyra closes his lips, quietly staring at him. Rhaena and Jace share a silent gaze, worried, and Daemon blinks softly, narrowing his eyes towards the nervous yet brave boy.

-...Very well, then-. Rhaenyra mumbles, caressing her belly.

-Hmm-, her husband nods, walking towards the gates, and opening them by himself.

Every head in the hall immediately turns towards there, and within a second, the strong voice of Ser Arryk announced the royals arriving.

-Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, The Heir to The Iron Throne! Prince Daemon and his daughter, princess Rhaena, of House Targaryen! And princes Jacaerys and Lucerys, of House Velaryon!-. The knight names firmly and loudly.

A silence grew in the hall as soon as the family entered it. They walk with confidence and seriousness, avoiding each of the eyes nailed in them, ignoring them all. Luke is about to faint, of course, but he found a little peace when he saw Baela smiling at him, and felt a quick caress on his hand from Rhaena.

With mechanical movements, Aemond turns around, and side-eyed them, starting to walk down the stairs of the throne, soon being followed by his siblings.

The One-Eyed Prince searched for his wife between the family of hers, but did not find her anywhere. He knows his younger nephews, such as Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys, are not allowed in the hearing, but he wondered why she was not in here yet. He would had swear she'd be the first one to come in, out of all her family.

When not finding his love, then, his eye fixated in her brothers. As it always happens when Daera is away from him, his mind entirely clouded with sour and dark thoughts, as well as his heart beated with heaviness. He stares at the bastards, coldly, thinking of all of the things they owe him after having gagged them out of him.

The Heir to The Iron Throne and The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms shared a quick tense glance. Alicent stared at her with her lips uncomfortably pressed, and Rhaenyra glared at her with superiority, furrowing her mouth.

The Rogue Prince and his family reached their place, standing at the right of the hall. When they did so, Jace, Luke and Rhaena looked at Baela, who looked back at them with a confused expression, moving her lips.

-Where is Daera?-, she mouthed.

And all of them shrugged, worried.

■ ■ ■

Cunt.

Stupid fuck.

Fucking asshole.

Aegon The Fool.

Aegon The Rapist.

Aegon The Drunk.

Aegon The Motherfucker.

Aegon The Piece of Cowshit.

AEGON THE FUCKING WHORE!

Fists tighted, chest coming up and down, raged eyes, heart beating heavily.

Princess Daera walks in Flea Bottom with the greatest of furies in her. She can't stop thinking about the pure fear of Dyana's eyes, the audacity of The Queen of sending her away! Aegon may be a monster, but his mother, gods. Her mother in law lives singing about justice, righteousness, decency. Hypocrites, a bunch of hypocrites!

The bells have toiled, Daera heard some moments ago, and so now she is heading back to The Red Keep, as quick as possible. She needs to back her family, to back Luke, and...

Hold the fuck up.

The princess suddenly stopped walking when something catches her gaze. Turns out she's walking near the shelter of children. And, from the corner of her eye, she noticed the doors of it are open.

In the door, Moringa is standing with a scared brave expression, facing three men. But not just some men. Those are Treynor, Olly and Prash. The ones that just yesterday were threatening the woman, and her shelter.

They are doing it again, they...they still plan to rob her, its obvious by her scared gaze. The fact lighted the princess's eyes with rage, and madness.

Over the shoulders of the men, Moringa suddenly became aware of the white-haired princess, quietly standing from the distance, looking straight at them as an animal haunts its prey. Inevitably, she gasps, surprised why such wild eyes.

Before Moringa The Whore's shocked gaze, the three men also turned around their heads, confused, searching for what she was looking at. It was not difficult to see the Targaryen princess, moveles, glaring at them.

Treynor, Olly and Prash immediately mumbled between them, getting away from the shelter with discreet steps, pretending to not be noticing her. They acted as if nothing was happening, as if they weren't about to assault the children's shelter.

Moringa, doubtless, quickly closed the door again when the men stepped away.

Daera presses her lips as her eyes slowly narrowed, fixated in them. The princess keeps staring at them with disbelief, rage. Insulted. Calculating.

No. Aegon is enough. She have had enough. She won't be made the fool again.

The princess briefly licks the insides of her cheeks, and then she turns around, leaving. The three thieves raised their brows, surprised, as they see the princess walking away in total silence.

-It looks like the whore abandoned her whore-. Treynor mumbled, burlesque.

-Let's wait until she gets further-. Olly decides with a taunt smirk, seeing the white-haired getting lost between the people.

-Yeah-. Prash agrees, glancing at the children shelter.

■ ■ ■

By punishing those who have committed a crime, you teach the others to not commit it as well.

But...how well is it, to punish a crime, at all cost, before its even committed?

In one of the beaches of the huge shores belonging to The Blackwater Bay, princess Daera receives a soft wind on her face, where a tiny smirk of confidence is placed.

-Thank you, boys...-she nods, handing a brown bag full of coins-...for your cooperation-. The princess raises her brows.

In front of her, the four brothers she met before, at The Street of Steel, smile when they see the money handed to them.

-Fuck-, Jay mumbles with a smirk, taking the bag.

-It was our honor, your grace-. Ajy nods with a taunt expression, looking at her.

-I am not queen yet-, she remembers, calmly.

-You'll be some day-. Jya says, with high respect.

-Thank the gods...-, the tallest brother mumbled. Yja agreed with his lips closed, smiling.

Daera smiles to them for a few seconds, silently nodding, and then she sighs, raising her brows.

-You may leave now-, she allowed, pointing forward with gentleness.

Afterwards, the blacksmith brothers walked away, together, constantly looking back at her, until they fully left the beach, returning to their humble stall, and leaving her alone.

Daera blinks, staring at a blank point for a few seconds. Then, she turned around.

The Rogue Princess walks on the dirty dark sand of the polluted beach, advancing with serene steps. Her left arm, where she wears her new red sleeve, reaches for the belt in her hips.

She grabs her steel sword, starting to take it put of its sheath, making a low metallic sound.

《 ... 》

-They were about to enter to the shelter-, Moringa sobs, ashamed.

Daera listens to her with her brows curved, and her lips closed.

-I was about to look for my dagger, princess, if hadn't you arrived-. She says, gulping with nerves-. They...they threated to light the place on fire, if I did something-, she remembers, tense.

《 ... 》

The princess clinks the sword's end against the rocks she was walking by. That made loud repetitive sounds, cold and bone-chilling ones.

Her leathed boots walk towards certain place, dragging her sword in the rocks. Lying in the sand, passed out, are Olly, Prash and Treynor. They have minor injuries in their faces, which are covered by dark oil grease, that of a blacksmith's hands. The mayor wound is a black eye.

They began to regain their consciousness before those constant metallic sounds, which began to hammer their heads as they got closer, with each passing second.

-What...?-, Treynor mumbles, confused.

《 ... 》

The three thieves were walking in one of the multiple alleys of Flea Bottom, near the children's shelter. Around them, there were beggars and whores, each of them caring about their own matters.

They were plotting their assault to the orphanage. That place get endless help from the princesses of the realm! Countless baskets of food, clothes, toys, everything. They have been rejoicing in all of those blessings.

Olly, Prash and Treynor have decided that it has been enough of that.

Said thieves would have robbed the place, lit it in fire, perhaps even killed the children, if -an only if- four tall and strong young men wouldn't have taken them by surprise right in the middle of that alley.

Ajy, Jay, Jya and Yja collided their fists and iron sticks against the three men, pushing them on the walls and kicking them endlessly, not even giving them chance to react properly. Not a word was said, besides all of their curses and threats, and soon, they were wordless, and fainted in the mud.

The beggers and whores of the alley only watched, and somes even didn't, not caring at all about that assault. Instead, they did what they are best at. Beg, and to whore. Yja gave them a few coins, and Jay slapped the ass of a prostitute as they dragged the bodies away.

《 ... 》

Finally, the three men were already awaken, with great headaches. As they were laying, the first thing they saw was sand, and the first thing they felt, was their tied hands behind their backs.

Olly blinks harshly, confused, and he is the first one to look up. And when they hear him gasp, Treynor and Prash also looked.

The Rogue Princess is standing some steps in front of them, firmly quiet, with a serious face. Her hands are crossed over her long clean sword of steel, which is nailed in the sand. She blinked, with the sun shining behind her long white hair.

-I warned you-, the princess said, shrugging.

In that moment, Olly's face dyed with extreme terror as he seated in the sand, and he saw his life flashing before his eyes.

-Oh no, no no no-. His voice breaks-. No princess, please, please, I beg you!-. He didn't wait even a second to plead.

The other two, on the other hand, couldn't be more annoyed, also lifting their upper body.

-What do you think you are playing at, girl?!-. Prash grunts, struggling with his tied hands.

-You whore!-, Treynor yelled, clenching his teeth-. Untie us!!-, he demanded.

-Princess, please, PLEASE, have mercy on me, please!-. Olly is already crying, with tears burning his eyes.

Daera sighs through her nose, unfazed, glancing at the clouds.

-You see, I am already late to a meeting, so I have no time for a motivating speech, or...or some dramatic shit like that, you know?-. She talks in the middle of their endless screams, walking towards them, and grasping her sword-. I'm afraid I'll have to be quick-, she added.

-NO, NO! PLEASE NO!!-. Olly screamed twitching in the sand.

Daera places herself behind him, raises her sword with her nose scrunched, and then, let the steel rain over him. Olly's hands were ripped from his body in less than a second. They fell behind his back, gently, and the ropes came loose.

-You are a free man now-. Daera jokes, chuckling.

Olly gasped, his eyes went huge, and then he let out the biggest scream of his life, yelling out of pain and fear, hurting his lungs and throat. Treynor and Prash screamed too when they saw all the blood that ran out of his sliced veins, immeditaley dyeing the sand red.

-CRAZY- CRAZY BITCH!!-. Prash yelled, teary.

-WHY?! NOO, OHH!!-. Olly howls with pain, writhing in the sand, in his own blood, on his own hands.

-You won't steal anymore-. Daera speaks with so much calmness, walking to the next person. The fat one-. Prash, was it?-. She points at him with her weapon.

-LET US GO, YOU HEARTLESS WHORE!!-. Treynor screams, hurting his throat with his loud voice.

-I?! I am the heartless?!-. The Rogue Princess scoffs, looking at him while she grabs Prash's wrists as if they were a bag. He whines, struggling as much as he could-. What am I doing, but the right thing?-. She asks, bemused, placing her sword on the ropes.

-DON'T, DON'T!-. Prash begs, crying.

Daera stares harshly at him, and then she begins to move her sword even harsher against his very skin. Slowly. Prash burns in pain and yells with it as he feels his hands starting to be sliced as if they were a fine ham. The steel comes up and down, as a saw hurriless cutting wood.

Treynor opens his mouth big, screaming, as he sees his friend's hands slowly being peeled off his body, uncovering his veins, meat and blood. The three men whine and cry, endlessly, while the princess cuts his hands off with a calmness worthy of a paint.

-Have mercy, princess...PLEASE!-. Olly's tired voice pleads, endlessly twitching on the floor.

-BITCH! FUCKING BITCH, BLOODY HELLS!!-. Prash cries as her handsless arms bleed stoppless.

-DO YOU THINK WE CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT OR HANDS, DUMB CUNT?!-. Treynor, bravely, keeps screaming at her, even though his friend have been cruelty maimed by her.

Daera looks at him, with a funny pout on her lips.

-Oh no, I- I am sure you would figure something out, you're smart men-. She shrugges, bouncing her sword in the air as she starts to walk again, away from them. They three breath fastly, staring at her with endless tears. Daera faces them, from a distance again-. My dragon, however, will want more of you than just hands-. Her brows raised.

That's it. They went speechless.

A low growl begins to make the sand around to tremble, as they bodies did as well. The thieves turned their heads to the right, forgetting about the pain, the blood, and about everything. They forgot about that, and remembered that...the princess is a Targaryen.

The Golden Ray came out from behind a rock hill, revealing his mighty and bone-chilling presence. The huge dragon crawls with his big golden wings, nearing to them with total hurriless. All of his scales are ruffled, and his eyes, as mad as his rider's, are fixated on the thieves.

He emitts a sharp yet low-pitched spine-chilling sound that only belongs to him. The dragon is singing and humming his growls, menacing, as he gets everytime closer, step by step, torturing their minds, and their eyes.

Daera smiles softly when she sees him. Her smile fades away when the men begin to scream again, and this time it was for real. They've never been this scared, this helpless, and it was showing pathetically. Words were not coming of their mouths, but frightened stupid yells, screams and whines filled with despair.

The princess tsks her tongue, shaking her head from side to side.

-No. No! That is not fair!-. She denies, pointing at the crying men-. You did not want to learn the good way, you all were reckless, and cruel!-, she raises her brows.

-PLEASE, PLEASE HAVE MERCY!-. Treynor pleads, for the first time, making her eyes go big.

-After calling me a whore?!-, Daera points to herself, smiling.

Kalistrox arrived, just behind her. He dug the claws of his wings into the sand, harshly, on either side of her body, and began baring his long pointy teeth with a rising snarl of rage and menace, glaring at the three of them. His body is so unbelievably large that half of it is actually on the sea, stepping on the water and the waves that pass by.

Treynor breathes fastly, with heavy saliva falling off his lips as he stares up at the princess with raged tears, impotent, full of despair. She blinked, warning.

-Fu...FUCKING WHORE!!-. He dared to yell again, turning his neck red.

Daera roared, taking her dagger out from a moment to another. She grabbed it in the air and ran towards Treynor, pushing the behind of his head into a rock, and starting to crush his hace with the blade's handle, punching him with no mercy at all.

Treynor screamed to the skies with the worst of pains, feeling the princess madly smashing all of his face with vilence and madness, roaring as she did it. Olly and Prash cried with fear, looking from them to the roaring dragon, and then back to them.

The Rogue Princess grunts as she punches and crashes his mouth, eyes, nose, forehead, everything. Her made made her believe, for a second, that this was her cousin Aegon, and that just made her to crash him stronger with the handle of the dagger, ignoring all the screams from the others.

-You will do no more harm-, her poisoned voice grumbles.

Most of the blood coming from Treynor's face is falling on the princess, staining her face, chest and hair of red drops, while the end of her skirt is also starting to get dirty, with the pool of blood of the sliced hands of the other two.

Kalistrox growls, and Daera suddenly stops, breathing fastly, and looking at her work. Treynor's face is entirely deformed. His eyes are hided in the deepness of his skull, and his cheekbones and lips are inflated and pulsing, beating as a healthy heart. And the best part? He's still alive.

Treynor weakly whines, agonizing. His friends look at him in the middle of their tears and cry, as weak as him.

The deformed one grunts and sobs with pain when he suddenly felt a part of his body being abruptly detached, and more blood began to run. His hands have been cut off as well, and the princess kicked them so he would see them. He cried, closing his hurted eyes.

-Fucking cunts-. Daera tsks her tongue, walking away from them with a disguted face-. You stink-, she hisses.

Daera and her dragon look at each other, and she raises a hand to caress his neck, not stopping her steps. He growls lowly, looking back at the men his rider maimed.

She turns around, looking at them too, disgusted and tired, already bored of so much blood and whines. Daera licks her lips, furrowing them.

-Alright-, she whispers, blinking, and feeling a drop of blood in her lashes-. Dracarys-. The Rogue Princess said.

Olly, Treynor and Prash opened their mouths big, screaming.

Kalistrox opened his mouth too, and all of their screams were shushed when the dragon roared and made fire rain all over them. Their crying faces melted before the flames would even touch them, but when they did, their lifes immediately were wiped out entirely.

Daera looks straight at them, at the side of his dragon while he, not stopping for one second, breathes flames in their corpses, burning even the recall of their names, which she already forgot. The princess smiles with her lips closed, feeling the heat that was coming from her dragon's whole body, as if he was lit in fire himself too.

The Golden Ray stopped his fire before he burned them to the bones. Daera, then, sees their fried bodies and hands, pathetic, and dead, of course. She laughs.

-Good boy-, she whispered proudly.

Kalistrox shook his neck, and then went straight to bite one of the corpses, eating it with desire and wildness. A roar of Vhagar is heard from afar, in another part of the beach. She has a craving too.

The princess licks her lips with a huge smile, cleaning her dripping sword with her skirt, and cleaning the drops of blood on her face with her hands.

《 ... 》

-If you have any other problem, my good woman...-

Moringa blinks, speechless, looking at the princess, holding her bloody hands, and seeing some of her bloody strands of hair.

-...just tell me-, Daera smiles sweetly.

-I definitely will-. She mumbles, bemused.

《 ... 》

■ ■ ■

Indistinct chatters covers The Iron Throne's room as it is already full of people. The whole court is here, The Queen and The Heir, as well as their respective children. And, the last person that arrived, The Hand of The King.

Otto Hightower stands in front of the empty chair. Behind of him, two large Targaryen banners, at which Helaena is looking at with tranquile expression.

-Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds...!-. Otto's hoarse and firm voice speaks, shutting up every other voice, and making everyone to listen at him-, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succesion of Drfitmark!-, he informs.

Lucerys gulps, feeling a thousand eyes placed in his back.

-As Hand, I speak with The King's voice on this, and all other matters-. Otto states, taking a step back, and taking seat in The Iron Throne as if it is his usual chair. Daemon hummed lowly, finding the image disgusting-. The crown will now hear the petitions-, he says.

Rhaena eyes Luke, seeing him gulping with his blue gaze full of anxiety. Quietly, she caressed his arm, and he turned to look at her, nervous.

-Easy...-, she whispered. Trying to calm himself, he closed his lips, and crossed his hands in front of him.

-Ser Vaemond, of House Velaryon-. The Hand of The King called.

Aemond lifted up his only eye, nailing this one on Lucerys, able to see his fear. At his sides, Aegon is dying of boredom, and Helaena is in her own mind. Alicent watches everything with attention and, behind them, Ser Erryk and another guard are standing.

With a serene yet serious expression, Vaemond glances at the family of Rhaenyra and, afterwards, he walks to the front. Rhaenys looks at him, thoughtful, while Baela gave a confident nod with her head, following his every move. Daemon also stares at him, calmly.

-My Queen-. Vaemond greets. Alicent looks at him, serious, and Helaena did as well, curious-. My Lord Hand-, he greets the man on the throne, who noded to him with respect.

Jace posses a staid gaze, constantly eyeing at Aemond, for he is looking at them with no pretending. Jacaerys just ignores him, unable to not remember the last talk he had with him. I fuck your sister.

-The history of our noble houses extends beyond The Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria-, Ser Vaemond speaks with politeness, with his hands crossed over his abdomen-. For as-

All of a sudden, he is interrupted by the prominent sound of the doors of the hall being open. That made Vaemond to furrow his brows and turn his head around, as well as everybody did.

-Princess Daera, of House Targaryen!-. Ser Arryk's voice loudly announced.

Aemond opens his eye big, fully turning to look at there.

Princess Daera arrived to The Iron Throne's room with a cocky walk, and a cocky face. She has a sleeve of chain mail wrapped to her left arm, red, and that is not the only red in her. While her short blouse and her skirt are black, the end of the latter is all stained by wet sand and what appears to be fresh blood. Red drops are as well in her white hair, tiny little drops all around distint parts of her mane, distant to each other, but very noticeable.

Gasps and expressions of bemusement and surprise arrived within a second, and the hall covered with new multiple murmurs coming from everywhere. What does this means? Is the princess mocking the hearing, by arriving late and looking like this? Is this supposed to mean a threat, to Vaemond Velaryon? Is this a warning?

Daera listens to none of them, and she just keeps walking with a indelible smile on her bright face. She is not walking, she is straight out strutting, prideful. The sword and dagger sheathed in her belt bounce along her hips movements, following the rhythm of her steps.

Vaemond is clearly insulted, staring at her with his eyes narrowed and his lips open. Otto is speechless in the throne, looking at the princess with his bemused big gaze.

Aegon is grossed out, wrinkling his lips when looking at his scruffy cousin. Helaena keeps a small smile on her lips, looking at her with dearness and easiness, not minding at all her stains of blood. It is far obvious she is not hurted. Alicent is speechless, and Aemond, blinkless, is almost having a stroke, not understanding why his wife is covered in blood, or why did she arrive late, and why she seems proud of it.

Behind his protected prince, and his helmet, Ser Erryk stares at the princess with surprise and interest.

Rhaenys blinked hugely, only one time, bemused, and at her side Baela laughed with a great surprise, never drawing her gaze away from her big sister.

As the murmurs and gossips run after her, the older Targaryen princess keeps walking with no hurry, smiling, and finally glancing at her family.

Daemon has the calmest of smiles on his lips, simply admiring his wild beast of a daughter. Luke's mouth opened as he blinked fastly, feeling a heavy weight leaving his chest, and his lips briefly smiling. Jace looks silly, staring at her with his mouth loose and his eyes big, wondering what the heck she has done. Rhaenyra and Rhaena both share the very same expression of worriness and confussion.

Daera stops walking, at last, halting her steps just at Vaemon's side. He looks at her, blinkless.

-Uff, that was a long walk-. The princess smiles funnily, raising her brows. Some laughs are heard from the court. Aemond's eye is shining over her, mesmerized-. My Lord Hand, and...-. Daera looks at her left, where she finds Alicent-...my Queen-, she mumbled-. I apologize, for my lateness-. A sigh leaves her lips.

-An apologize for your appearance would be welcomed as well, princess Daera, this the throne's room, not a playground-. Queen Alicent pointed within a second, tightly grabbing her wrists and highly raising her brows, reproachful.

Bouncing his head, Aegon draws a silent burlesque smile. Princess Daera side-eyes The Queen, who keeps looking at her.

-Then I apologize for my appearance as well, your grace-. Daera nods, softly-. It is just too difficult to find a glass where to see my reflection among all this seven point stones, which highly confuses me because this is a castle...not a septon-, she politely said, fake, and burlesque.

Aliceng closed her lips. Low gasps were heard all around. Aemond's eye stopped shining, and it narrowed with seriousness, and annoyance. He tighted his fists behind his back, thinking about how much he hates when his wife is so disrespectful towards his mother.

-You may take your place with your family, princess Daera, and allow Ser Vaemond to proceed with his petition-. Otto spoke firmly from the throne.

-I very much agree-. The princess nods with no problem. She looks at Vaemond, who looks back at her with coldness, a expresion she tauntly copied-...Good luck, uncle-. She murmured, walking away from him.

Daera headed towards her family, automatically smilimg when seeing them. They decided to not exchange a single word, but when she took place between her father and her fake husband, they all shared quick glances that carried a hundred thoughts in them.

Daemon side-eyed her with a cocky smile, Jacaerys elbowed her with a curious expression, and Rhaenyra looked at her with a silent reproach, opening her eyes big. Daera glanced at Luke and Rhaena, noding towards them with a confident smirk. Rhaena huffed, and Luke smirked back at her, nervous, but somewhat relieved, enduring the sight of blood.

-In the name of the crown, I apologize for such abrupt interruption, Ser Vaemond-. The Hand says with shame and politeness, raising his brows.

Daera rolls her eyes, opening them big.

-You must not worry, my Lord Hand, my mind is not too easily distracted, I am a sailor-. Vaemond showed off with a humble smile, making Otto to smile as well.

-Did I miss a lot?-, Daera asks within a whisper.

-He barely started-, Jace whispered, leaning his head closer to hers.

-Good, good-. She immediately nods.

-As I was recalling to you before, the bond of our houses date back to the days of Old Valyria, and its glory-. Vaemond raises his brows, mannerly speaking-. For as long ad House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas-, he pointed.

Daera passes her gaze over her uncle, glancing at someone else. From the distance, she glares at Aegon, fixating her deep eyes in him, not blinking once. The idiot is scratching his hands, not attending to anything. The Rogue Princess's has a strand of hair in the middle of her gaze. In it, drops of dry blood, dyeing her sight of Aegon of that strong red.

When she feels that someone is also staring at her, she moves her eyes, finding, then, Aemond's. Her husband is looking at her from his place in the hall, with his lips furrowed into a tiny froze smirk. She sucks the inside of her cheeks for a moment, staring at him for the first time in the day. The memories of last night hit them both.

-When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines, and their name-. Vaemond speaks softly and calmly, reciting history to lead to his point.

Silently, Daemon eyes Rhaenyra with his characteristic burlesque easiness. After briefly shaking her head, she side-eyed him, and noded briefly, looking at the floor.

At last, Vaemond reached his point.

-I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat-. His voice became stronger now. Lucerys looks at him, quietly, thoughtful-. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood-. He proudly says.

Daera furrows her brows, and then wrinkles her lips when seeing Otto noding from the throne, truly listening to the man. She clenches her teeth, looking at Rhaenyra, who glanced back at her only for a second.

-The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins-. Vaemond states.

-As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon-. Rhaenyra spoke from a moment to another, not even looking to the man, but to the ground. Aemond hummed from his place, annoyed-. If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir-. She speaks with no doubt and, behind her, her children stand with confidence. At her right, however, Luke stands ashamed-. No, you...only speak for yourself, and for your own ambition-. She blamed.

-You will have chance to make your own petition, princess Rhaenyra-. Alicent almost cut her words, harshly. Daera clenches her teeth, as well as Jace did, also lifting his chin-. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard-, she ordered, serious.

After their mother spoke, Aegon curved his lips into a smirk, looking tauntly at the family in front of them, and Aemond smirked as well, keeping his eye still and lifting his lips with cockiness. His half-sister knows nothing of respect and believes she always have the right to speak and interrup someone when she wants to. Idiot.

The One-Eyed Prince's wife noticed his smirk, making her to close her fists.

After being defended by the very Queen, Vaemond twirled his body to look at them with a superior expression of confidence, blatantly smiling. Rhaenyra immediately drew her gaze away, and Luke shivered.

-What do you know or Velaryon blood, princess?-. Vaemond asks, narrowing his eyes. The Heir gulps, silent-. I could cut my veins...-

-The only good idea he has ever had-, Daera mumbled under her breath. Daemon laughed sharpy under his breath as well, looking down. He touches the handle of her sword. It is warm.

-...and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it-. Vaemond shamed the princess, raising his brows-. This is about the future and survival of my house-. He says. Jace rolls his eyes, looking at the Targaryen banners-, not yours-. Vaemond whispered and, after closing his lips, he stared at Lucerys.

The boy stares at him with a crystal gaze, having little tears on them, lips opened. Rhaena looked down, also scared of his eyes. Daera clenched her teeth, wanting to draw Vaemond away from them.

-My Queen, my Lord Hand-. Vaemond faces, once again, The King's stewards-. This is a matter or blood, not ambition-. He firmly clears.

Lucerys glances to the Queen's family, and he completely froze when finding Aemond's sadistic still eye nailed on him, with a closed smirk on his pink lips. The boy looks like lost puppy, a stupid one that knows that everything being said about him is purely and entirely true. Those blue sad eyes don't convince no one, or so he thinks.

-I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all-. Vaemond asks with firmness. In his eyes, there is decision, and love-. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor...the Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of The Tides-. He softly pleaded.

Everything went silent. Luke nods silently, ashamed, while his siblings glanced between them, annoyed and insulted.

-Thank you, Ser Vaemond-. Otto politely nods from the throne.

Aemond blinks briefly with a cocky smirk on his lips, feeling that everything is going just as it should. Vaemond's petition couldn't have been more right or correct. Justice is everytime closer, he can feel it. Lucerys won't be Lord of the Tides.

The Ser nods towards The Hand and, after an arrogant side-eyed to the the family at his right, he walked back to his place, full of confidence.

Daera looks front, glaring at Aegon scratching his chin with disinterest, furrowing his lips. She feels her blood boiling, hearing Dyana's sobs and whines on her mind.

When looking at her husband, she shivers when finding an arrogant expression on his face. He must be insane, she thinks. How can he keep wishing so much for her brothers' decay, knowing that it would also affect her? He is just thinking of himself, not in her too.

-Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son...-. The Hand of The King calls-...Lucerys Velaryon-, he slowly names.

Rhaenyra's family all look at her while she nearly rolled her eyes, uncrossing the hands over her belly.

-Come on, Nyra-. She heard a whisper from Daera before taking a few steps until arriving to the front of the throne, standing alone in there-. Fuck-, the girl curses, noticing The Queen's look of superiority.

-If I am to grace this farce with some answer...-. Rhaenyra starts speaking, clearly annoyed, blinking fastly as she stares at the floor-, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very--

The sound of the doors opening interrupted everything, again. But this time, who might it be? All the people turned their heads towards the entrance, and when they saw who it was, everyting gave a huge total turn. Everything changed.

-King Viserys of House Targaryen!-. Ser Arryk firmly announces. Otto flinches on the throne, and Rhaenyra turns around fully, with tears coming up to her eyes-. The First of His Name!-. Alicent opens her worried lips, and Aemond opens his lonely eye, speechless-. King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and The First Men!-. Daemon turns his head slowly, and Daera shivered and gasped in shock-. Lord of The Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of The Realm!-. The knight finishes.

Everyone of the court bowed their heads before the man arriving to the room. Viserys arrives with his back slouched, his body standing by the help of a cane, the half of his rotting face covered by a golden mask, and his lungs constantly wheezing and hurting. But he is here.

The King is here.

Not a single murmur is head in the room as everybody is in total shock, for he hasn't been seen in court since forever, and now he is here, weakly walking in the middle of the hall.

A hero, for some...

Daera's brows have curved, and her lips are opened with disbelief, relief, pain, love. The princess cannot believe she is seeing her uncle, after all this time of forbidden of doing so. Her heart melted, relieved, looking at the salvation of them, at their main defender. Her eyes showed pain when seeing him this weak, this deeply illed, limping at every step. However, her gaze also filled with love, for she felt nothing more abundant than such, the same feeling his heart is beating with. A thought was immediate: my family is safe.

And a villain, for others...

Aemond's factions have grown cold, and bemused. He hadn't seen his father in ages. He was rotting in bed, always keeping Alicent worried and busy with his attendance. He was weak, Viserys, and gladly locked away from them all. And now...now he rose up from his dying bed, to defend his favourite child and all of her wrongs. His father didn't even move a finger when he pleaded for him to raise his voice in favour of his marriage with Daera, he didn't care when he left the room crying. He coughed. Viserys coughed, and he is the reason of why the love of his life is married with a bastard, with someone else. What about him? What about him, for the millionth time?

Vaemond, as shocked as everyone else, turns to look at The Hand, who is as shocked as him. And when he looks at The Queen, he found worriness on her eyes.

Baela has her brows curved, looking at her uncle with softness and incredulity. Rhaenys gulps and blinks to look down, hurted by the weak health of her cousin.

Viserys walks in the middle of agitated groans, supporting all of his weight on his cane as he stares front, at all moments, tiredly. One would think he is staring at his throne, but...he is staring at his child, Rhaenyra. His only child.

Helaena watches her father walking, and she is just happy because he seems determinated to keep advancing, and that made her proud. And, as she draws a tiny smile on her innocent face, Aemond tilts his head and, cautiously, glances towards his wife.

He wanted to see if she is thinking what he is, if she feels as betrayed as he does. But, Aemond only ended up feeling more betrayed when he finds her with her eyes filled with hope and happily, staring lovingly at Viserys while she is tenderly hugging an arm of her father. She is all sentimental, it is obvious, not even thinking about how her uncle dismissed her feelings once. The one-eyed looks down, closing his eye with force. She is not thinking about him.

The King, as he weakly advances, looked at his second family, fixating his gaze only in his wife, who looked at him with honest concern. He didn't glance at his children. Helaena did look at him, blinking with calmness, use to never have his eyes on her. Aegon, on the other hand, is breathing rather fastly, wanting his father to peer at him, at least for a second. Aemond, lastly, did not even try. He kept staring at the floor, quiet, hiding his internal sadness and misery.

When Viserys looks at his right, Rhaenyra looked back at him with the softest of dearness and surprises. She looks like an angel, just like her mother, and he weakly sighed because of the thought. He stared at her for long loving seconds, and to her children as well, all of them looking back at him with that same love. Daemon, to be honest, has no happiness on his eyes, but pain and seriousness, looking at his illed brother.

Viserys, at last, reached the stairs to the throne, where his Hand is standing in silent. He turned to look at him, breathing heavily, gripping his cane.

-I will sit the throne to day-, His Grace spoke with tiredness, but determination.

-...Your grace-. Otto agreed, nodding, and stepping away.

Gripping her father's arm, Daera turned her head to smile towards Luke with pride and hope, pressing her lips. He looked back at her with disbelief, sighing with nerves. Stating at that interaction, Aemond clenched his nails on his hands, behind his back.

Not even before the first stair, Viserys groaned and grunted with pain, incredibly weak. Aegon startles when Ser Erryk suddenly goes away from his side, quickly walking towards The King.

Princess Daera opens her lips, fixating her eyes on the knight, seeing a little of his worried expression behind the helmet of his armour. He wanted to help, even though nobody asked him to. She gulps, remembering herself that he hides Aegon's ugly doings.

-I will be fine-, Viserys says, breathless, making the knight to slowly step back-. I will be fine-. He repeats, glancing to his throne.

With doubt in his eyes, Ser Erryk nods and obeys him, turning around and silently walking back to the prince he is swore to.

The King wheezes, putting all of his effort in walking up the stairs. However, after only two steps, his crown fell from his head, dryly clinking in the floor. He groaned, closing his eyes, feeling even more pathetic.

Right after the crown fell, Daera let go of her father's arm, curving her brows. He immediately abandoned her side, walking not to the throne, but to his brother.

Viserys furrows his brows when he hears the crown being lifted from the floor.

-I said I'm fine-, he hisses.

But when he looks up, he finds no strange knight, but his little brother instead. Daemon looks at him with softness, slowly grabbing his arm.

-Come on-, he mumbles.

Viserys groans, closing his eyes for a second, and then he began to walk the stairs up again, now with Daemon watching and helping each of his steps, not minding his slowness and constant wheezes. The King looks at him, briefly, and then it sounded like he sobbed, with a feeling different from the pain of before. He's thankful.

-Steady-, the younger brother whispers.

Daera caress her own hands, looking at there with a moved expression, mixed with hurt. She glances at her siblings, who glanced back at her with tiny smiles of the same feelings. Daera weakly smiles at them too and, then, she glanced at her husband from across the room. He is staring at his father, but not in the same way as she. Aemond is coldly glaring at her uncle, and she almost immediately understoon why, making her to gulp.

The King of The Seven Kingdoms finally seats on his throne, breathing heavily. His brother, The Rogue Prince, carefully and delicately placed The Crown of Jaehaerys on his head, where it fits perfectly.

Viserys sighs tiredly, looking up at Daemon. And Daemon looks down at him, furrowing his blonde brows with sadness and almost like shame, slightly nodding.

Afterwards, as The King acommodates himself in the throne, Daemon walks back to his family, with his gaze down. Rhaenyra, still taking everything in, caress her belly as she walks closer to her children again, checking on them with her eyes.

Softly, Daera grabs her father's arm again, interlocking her elbow with his, and giving him a light smile of support. Daemon looks at her with loosen eyes, placing a hand over hers, and patting it.

-I must...-. Everyone looks at The King when he speaks-...admit...-, he breathes heavily-...my confusion-. He said.

The wide great hall stays silent.

-That's a good start-. Daera mumbled, and Jace smirked tinyly, glancing at her.

-I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession-. Viserys keeps talking. Vaemond's heart stopped right at that moment, and Alicent blinked with heaviness, already knowing how this will end. Aemond gulps, not wanting to believe it-. The only present...who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes, is the Princess Rhaenys-. The King stated.

Every gaze turned to look at The Lady of Driftmark, who have a fast blink towards her cousin, quickly answering him.

-Indeed, your grace-. She agrees.

Rhaenys briefly glances at Ser Vaemond, and then she starts walking front, also glancing at her grandchildren, who all looked at her with attention. Rhaena's eyes are shining with hope.

-It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, to his trueborn son-. The princess states, confidently speaking-, Lucerys Velaryon-. She names, and the boy's puppy eyes looked at her, glimming, as well as his mother's own-. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him-. She declares.

Daera sucks her cheeks to the inside, drawing a smirk on her face. She and Jace looked at each other, and then they both stare at Luke, nodding with pride.

Alicent's eyes are teary. Aemond has noticed it by the corner of his eye, and just feels like everyone and everything has failed her, failed him. The One-Eyed Prince stares at his sileng mother, feeling his heart pounding ill feelings.

-As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son, Luke, to Lord Corlys's youngest gradddaughter, Rhaena-. Rhaenys informs with her brows raised, and the mumbles of the court hiss in the air. Lucerys looks over his shoulder, finding Rhaena smiling at him with warmness, one that made his cheeks to blush-. A proposal to which I heartily agree, as I very did with the marriage of princess Rhaenyra's firstborn, prince Jacaerys, and my husband and I's first granddaughter, princess Daera-. She remembers, smirking.

The whispers in the court go around as everybody is thinking the same thing. The girls have Velaryon blood as they have Targaryen's as well. One is married to the future Bastard King, and the other will be soon married with the future Bastard Lord of The Tides. This is their solution...for the second time.

Daera pressed her lips lightly, still not use to hear herself being named as Jace's wife. She reaches for her true husband's gaze, wanting to see what his reaction was. And he is...lost. His eye is staring at a blank point, disconnected completely from everything. Instantly concerned, she swallows hard.

-Well...the matter is settled-. Viserys's voice speaks from the throne, echoing in the hall-...again-, he sighs.

Aegon tried to avoid it, though he truly didn't, but he lifted his lips with amusement and he gaged a low laugh from deep his throat. His baggy eyes shined, relieved. His brother, at the contrary, is in trance, having a thousand thoughts and none at once.

Injustice is the word on his mind.

-I hereby reaffirm...-. When The King started to say those words, Rhaenyra pressed a smile on her lips as she turned to look at her second son, lovingly grabbing his arm. Jace and Rhaena smiled as well, proudly-...prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of The Tides-. He firnly states.

Daemon and Daera stare at The Greens, serious. Aegon, Aemond and Otto looked at the named heir with the same expressions on their faces, none of them happy, while Helaena looked as well, only that curiously, and a little confused. Alicent didn't even think of moving her eyes, and she just kept them away.

The Rogue Prince and Princess, holding their elbows together, stared at them with the same staidness, blinkless. Their family fighted to hide their smiles, glancing at Luke, and then they all looked at Vaemond, who is with his brows furrowed.

Daera looked down and sided her mouth with a prideful smile, feeling the relief getting hold of her heart, at last.

The King wheezes, and princess Rhaenys starts walking back to her place, after sharing a brief smile with Rhaenyra. She proudly returned to Baela, lovingly holding her hands.

-You break law...-, Vaemond's voice covers the hall from a moment to another.

-This motherfucker-, Daera immediately sighed tiredly, rolling her eyes blank.

-And centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir-. The defeated Velaryon man says, raising his brows with taunt as he walks, again, to the front of the hall-. Yet you dare tell me...who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon-, he hisses, insulted. Aemond starts to narrow his eye, interested in the matter again-. No-, he harshly whispered.

Before that tone, Daera truly stopped smiling, cautious.

-Father...-, she whispers, doubty.

-I will not allow it-. Vaemond denied and, as he did, Daemon stared at his older daughter with a cocky easiness, and then at him, in silence.

-What the fuck is he doing?-, Daera mumbles, anxious. Jace blinks serious at her side.

-"Allow it"?-. Viserys repeats, confused-. Do not forget yourself, Vaemond-. He ordered, narrowing his eye.

Aemond looks at Vaemond, expecting for something, anything. He sees the brown-skinned man is nearly starting to tremble, witnessing how his house's destiny is being toyed with.

-THAT...!-, and Vaemond shouted, from a moment to another, abruptly turning around to point at Lucerys. Many startled at that moment, including him, while Daera gasped and instantly let go of her father's arm, nearing to her brother-, is no true Velaryon!-. He blames with poison and despair, with his eyes full of hate.

-You've said your piece already, Vaemond!-. Daera harshly speaks as she reaches Luke, stepping in front of him. The boy flinches, raising his brows at her. Aemond looks towards there with bitterness, seeing his shield of a wife.

-And certainly...-, Vaemond faces The King again, ignoring his bratty niece-, no nephew of mine-. He denied.

-Go to your chambers-. Within a second, Rhaenyra passed a hand besides Daera and pushed Lucerys behind-. You have said enough-, she harshly says to the man.

Lucerys opens his mouth, shocked, looking at the two women in front of him. His mother, and his older sister, the both of them shielding him as if he was made of glass.

-Lucerys is my true-born grandson-. The King pointed, keeping calm-. And you...are no more, than the second son of Driftmark-, he tilted his head.

Aemond opens his lips, turning to look deeply at his father, of the few times he has done it. The second son of his house, he is. A waste, a no one, a "just in case" person. Is that what his father meant? Of course it fucking is.

Helpless, and insulted, Vaemon felt his pressed lips trembling for a second, until he opened them again.

-You...!-, he harshly starts. Daera clenches her teeth, still standing in front of Lucerys, sharing a cold glance with her father-, may run your house, as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine!-. His voice is firm and loud, wanting everyone to hear his pleadings-. My house survived The Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides!-. The man grunts, outraged, to The Deaf King.

Rhaena and Baela look between each other, worried and desperately wanting this to be over already. Their older sister, Daera, doesn't flinchs for a second as her fists are tighted to the sides of her bloody skirt.

-And gods be damned!-. Vaemond suddenly turns around, hissing, facing the boy again, who is mouth-opened, shielded by his sister. He still could see those blue eyes of the faker-. I will not see it ended, on the account of this...!-

Every heart in the hall stopped for a second in that moment. Daera clenched her teeth and lifted her chin, opening her eyes big.

-...Say it-, prince Daemon's soft voice echoed in the room.

Blinkless, Vaemond started to slowly direct his gaze towards him.

In the meantime, Viserys breathes heavily from the throne, trusting that this wouldn't reach higher levels. Alicent stares there, thinking of the word time after time, while Otto cautiously reads the scene. Helaena closes her eyes, worried. And Aemond didn't want him to say it, he wanted him to scream it, to say it so fucking loudly that even in The Wall the people know that Rhaenyra's sons are...

Vaemond forms a burlesque and reckless smirk on his lips, staring at The Rogue Prince. Not only he is challenging him, but his daughter as well has. Father and daughter, and everyone else, apparently, keep mocking and making fun of him, threatening him.

And that pushed him off his edge.

-Her children...-, Vaemond smiles-...are BASTARDS!-. He shouted loudly and madly, opening his mouth big.

The entire hall heated up within a second with murmurs and gasps. The King leans front on the throne, outraged. The whole family flinched on their places, shocked.

Lucerys opened his trembling mouth, and in that very moment Daera startled as she drew her hands back and grabed his, tightly, shielding him more with her eyes opened big as she feels her heart twirling.

-And she...-, Vaemond whispers, slowly facing The king.

Jace clenches his jaw, Rhaena curves her brows, Lucerys breathes fastly, Baela shakes her head, and Daera narrows her eyes.

-Is...-, Vaemond scrunches his nose, hissing.

Rhaenyra opens her mouth.

-...a whore-, Vaemond shamelessly declared.

The gasps in the hall were countless in that moment, all of them loud and shocked. Daera froze strongly, feeling her veins burning up in fire.

For a brief second, she stared front. And, while Helaena blinked and looked away with discomfort, Aemond drew the meanest of smirks on his face, not hiding it at all.

His wife blinks, outraged.

With shaky and trembling breaths, The King starts to stand up from his throne, furious.

Daera stopped looking at her husband when a hurried menacing person walks by her side. Daemon. She immediately gasps, strongly pushing his arm, and taking a step back.

-Look away, look away!-. Daera quickly commands to her siblings with a loud tone, but they were too focused on the fuss.

-I...!-, Viserys speaks breathless, unsheathing his dagger with rage-, will have your tongue for that!-, he roared.

-Look away!-, Daera shrieked.

Vaemond's head flies in the air.

Helaena gasped covering her ears and instantly looking away.

Alicent flinched and fastly turned around, grabbing her arms.

Aegon uncrossed his hands and his lips fell loose.

Ser Erryk startled.

Otto barely had the time to raise his brows.

Aemond stepped back with an open gaze.

Vaemond's body fall on his knees.

Rhaenyra opened her shocked lips.

Jace saw in trance the falling corpse.

Daera jumped and touched her belly.

Luke's mouth fell in terror.

Rhaena whined breathless.

Vaemond's body staggered for a second.

Rhaenys flinches with her lips closed.

Baela grabs her arm and steps back with her mouth open.

Vaemond's body fell on the floor, right besides the half of his head.

The Rogue Prince crosses his hands over Dark Sister's handle, staring down at the corpse with an unfazed expression, seeing all the dripping blood from below his...well, this is ironic.

-He can keep his tongue-, he innocently says, nodding.

-Oh for the fucks sake-, Daera whispered with no breath. Luke gasps behind her.

-DISARM HIM!-, Otto's desperate voice made all the guards to take out their swords towards the prince, and Alicent to flinch scared, still holding her daughter.

-No need-. Daemon sings, burlesque, cleaning his sword with his cape, walking back to his family.

For the second time since his father arrived, Aemond smiles, thoughtfuly. He stares at the bleeding corpse, and then opens his eye big, bemused, staring up at the father of his wife.

...Is it that easy?, he thinks.

Viserys starts groaning, agonizing, falling harshly seated on the throne. Alicent immediately turns to see him, highly concerned.

-Call the maesters!-, she loudly yells, running towards there.

-Father?-. Worried, Rhaenyra heads there too.

All the countless chatters in the hall start again as The Queen and The Princess headed to the throne.

Daera looks at Vaemond's body, slowly shaking her head. Then, she comes to realize the fasted and uncontrolled breathing behind her.

Within a second, she turns around, and gasps when finding Luke's extreme paleness.

-Luke!-, Daera gasps, immediately holding his shoulders and making him to turn around. The boy whines, shaking-. Fuck, fuck, wake up you two!-. She also reaches Jace and Rhaena, who flinched with their mouths opened-. I told you all to look away, hells!-. The princess curses, starting to walk, and taking her little brother with her.

-Oh my gods-. Jace mumbles, blinkless.

-Luke, you- you can't see blood!-. Rhaena recalled with a thin voice, quickly walking besides them.

-That's why I told him to look away!-. Daera reproaches, agitated, seeing him limping and gasping with every step they take.

-You- you are covered in blood anyways! What does it matters?!-. Lucerys yells, breathless, strongly closing his eyes.

-Fair-, the princess mumbled-. Alright, okay, let's just get out of here, now!-. She raises her brows, and fastly counts the heads of her siblings-. Where is Bae-? Baela!-, she sighs right when she sees her coming.

-Oh gods, Luke, you know you can't see blood!-. Baela says, stressed, quickly walking with them.

-Argh!-, the boy shrieks, going with his eyes closed.

-Let's get out of here, come on!-. Jace insists, shaking a little, walking faster to open the doors for them.

-We- we- we need to drink tea-. Rhaena proposes, taking Luke's hand, and making him to sigh shakily. The red came back to his face.

As she walks out of The Iron Throne hall, Daera turns her head around. And, with this, her eyes locked up with Aemond's, who is also taking Helaena out of the room by another of the exits, and he as well had turned his face to search for her.

When the spouses looked at each other, both of their gazes turned into stone, the most cursed stone of Harrenhal.

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess stared harshly, both of them thinking about all the shit the other did during the hearing of their families.

■ ■ ■

[flowerandblood]

Appearances (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession, mention of arranged engagements ]

[ description: All Aemond cares about is the recognition and attention of his younger sister, but she seems to ignore him and shun him, driving him to an ever-increasing state of withdrawal and dark, grim agony. Something inside him snaps when his grandsire announces that it is time to marry her off. Sexual tension, understatements due to lack of communication, obsession. ]

This oneshot has its sequels: Experience and Refinement, but can be read as a stand-alone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him, though because of this his throat squeezed in pain and rage, that his little sister was simply afraid of him. He couldn't explain her behaviour otherwise – the way she quickly looked away, meekly lowering her eyelids adorned with her long, dark lashes, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture as she met his gaze.

She was the only one who didn't have their pearly white hair, the only one who didn't have the eye colour due to the gods.

Even when she witnessed his duels with Criston Cole, when she could see how much he had changed, how skilful he was in wielding his sword, defeating him again and again, she did not congratulate him – she turned and left the square, no longer bestowing even a single glance on him.

Confronted again with her wordless rejection, he thought in the back of his head that she was disgustingly ordinary with her dark hair and eyes inherited from their mother, that she could be the daughter of some commoner walking up to his knees in the mud feeding his pigs.

However, his great annoyance usually lasted only a moment, after which he went back to his state of despair.

He didn't follow her, wanting to spare himself this humiliation and discomfort, feeling his heart twitching in rage, in shame that he so desperately desired her attention, a few words of recognition, one warm look.

He saw her one morning through the window speaking to her servant, gesturing vigorously and laughing pearly, joyful; he thought with regret that she was consorting with people who might take advantage of her, who cared only about her position.

That if she were his he would protect her from them.

She would be safe.

She was so careless, innocent, wise and naïve at the same time, looking at him with those big dark eyes of hers when someone in her presence annoyed him, begging him with her gaze not to explode.

His tongue was like a blade, cutting anyone who approached him – she knew this and was afraid to open her mouth in front of him, imagining for sure how cruel his reaction would be.

He didn't know how to explain to her that he would never hurt her, his sweetest little sister, his greatest joy.

He watched from the distance like a cool, sinister shadow as her fingers intertwined with Helaena's, stretched out side by side on their armrests during supper, observed her leaning towards her with a sweet smile, whispering something tenderly, from which their older sister giggled quietly – there was something mythological in these scenes, making a shiver run down his spine.

He knew that they sometimes met in her chamber and even slept together, confiding in each other about their feminine affairs that were beyond his comprehension, however, he couldn't stop the feeling of burning jealousy that filled his chest when he thought of how he wished it was him she visited at night.

He thought then of how tender he would be towards her, how his arms would enclose her warm, delicate body in his tight, firm embrace, protecting her from anything that might frighten her.

He imagined how wonderful she would smell, her oils teasing his nostrils constantly, sweet and intense – looking at her figure seated next to him he felt the need to bite into her flesh like a ripe fruit.

He thought she would taste like a peach.

When at last they had finished their conversation and her beautiful, soft hand reached for her cup her gaze finally met his – her plump, glistening lips parted slightly, as if the intensity of his gaze frightened her, her breasts quivered in quick, shuddering breaths.

He felt what he saw in his breeches, his length all swollen, demanding her closeness.

Wanting to keep her attention on him he lifted the platter with her favourite dish, sweet cinnamon pie filled inside with apples; he saw that she blinked quickly, her cheeks flushed at the realisation that he knew she favoured them.

He watched her swallow with difficulty, her trembling hand set her goblet aside – his manhood throbbed hard when their fingers brushed in the air as she took the silver platter from him. She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, her sweet, plump lips parted to whisper a quiet, barely audible thank you.

He leaned back again, looking at the pleasing profile of her face, her long eyelashes gleaming under the warm candlelight, a drop of sweat on her skin shimmering like a small diamond ran down her neck.

Gods, how he craved her.

He wanted to touch her, stroke her shamelessly exposed back with his large hand, rough from holding the hilt of his sword, and dig his fingertips into her warm, smooth skin, with a subconscious gesture proving to whom she belonged, that she had been his right, his delight and his duty since she was born.

Why didn't she realize this?

He watched with a squeezed throat as she took a piece of pie into her mouth, the involuntary lick of her tongue with which she brushed her lower lip focused all his attention.

The thought that this fleshy lips could in the same way clench around his painfully swollen cock, suck it and squeeze it, barely able to fit it in with her sweet cry of effort.

He grunted, looking away, feeling his length twitching and pushing against the tight material of his breeches.

She didn't look at him again that evening, absorbed in a discussion with their mother and grandfather as he drank Dornish wine, staring dully ahead, its tart aftertaste melting on his tongue.

"I spoke to your mother about the importance of slowly deciding on a suitable candidate for your husband, my love." Began their grandsire with his eyebrow raised in satisfaction, directing his words to his younger sister, who froze in mid-motion – he saw that her hands, in an involuntary reflex of terror, clamped down on the material of her gown.

She remained silent.

"She's still too young, for god's sake." He hissed out feeling rage like a burning fire pulsing through his veins. He grew hot and took another quick, deep sip from his cup, an uncomfortable silence fell around him.

Otto grunted, turning with a creak of wood in his seat, his fingers stretched out and clenched into a fist on the table top in front of him, apparently wondering why such a sudden and aggressive reaction on his part.

"I understand that as an older brother you feel responsible for her safety, however, she is now of the right age and has begun to bleed, and that's why…"

"Father." Muttered their mother, looking at him pleadingly, clearly not wanting him to bring up such intimate and sensitive topics at the table, moreover in the presence of other men.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how his sister dropped her gaze, her dark eyes shining from the tears of shame that had gathered under her lids, her brows arched in pain.

If she had only asked him to marry her he would have done so at once, freed her from this laughable obligation that her marriage to some mere lord would be.

He felt his jaw clench at the thought that no one would ever love her as devotedly, dearly, warmly as he, her blood, her protector, her brother.

"In the coming months, we would like you to meet a few candidates we consider worthy of your hand." Concluded their grandfather, taking a deep sip of wine from his goblet; he felt rage filling his chest when he saw that his sister merely nodded her head, accepting her fate without a word of protest, looking down at her plate.

He got up from the table, bitter and furious, leaving the hall without a word, unable to look at her, once again letting his anger take over him, accusing her in his mind.

Her lack of reaction, her lack of opposition, when it was so obvious that her husband could only be him, him, him.

He walked into his chamber, undoing the buckles of his tunic, throwing it angrily to the ground, remaining in only his chemise and breeches. Although he did not usually do so, he reached for the wine jug and poured himself a full cup, grabbing it and sitting down with it in the chair by the fire, tilting his head back, letting out loud sigh.

He shuddered when he heard a quiet, tentative knock on his door – he ran his hand over his face, guessing it was his Queen, as usual wanting to be his voice of reason, to come to him with her stoic calm, explaining to him why he had to accept the responsibilities that faced their family, including those standing before his sister.

He didn't feel like having this discussion, however, he acknowledged with reluctance that he couldn't dismiss his own mother.

"Come in." He said coolly, staring into the flames.

He heard the creak of the door opening and closing a moment later – he glanced involuntarily over his shoulder and froze, feeling his heart stop in his throat at the sight of her, beautiful, teary-eyed, her face all flushed red with pain, her fleshy, plump lips parted in a hastened breath, her brow arched in pain.

"Lēkia (big brother)." She mumbled out with difficulty, choking on her own tears – he stood up at her words looking at her with eye wide open in shock, driven by some sudden emotion, moved that she had come to him as he had always imagined she would, vulnerable and desperate, seeking refuge and a reassurance in his arms.

"Come closer, hāedar (little sister). Come." He whispered softly, extending his hand to her in a gesture of encouragement; she moved tentatively towards him, looking up at him with her wonderfully dark, large eyes, tear drops glittering on her lashes like little stars.

He parted his lips and swallowed loudly when her smooth, warm hand touched his, thought with tenderness that compared to his she was so small, so fragile.

When he dared to lift his other hand to her cheek she twitched, wrinkling her eyebrows, breathing loudly, distrustful like a maiden who was afraid of a stranger's touch, simultaneously craving his closeness and fearing it.

He breathed quietly as she let his fingers touch and run over the wonderfully soft, firm skin of her pink cheek, her eyelids closed for a moment, a quiet, sweet sigh leaving her lips.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked in a calm, low, trembling voice, ashamed of how scared he was of her answer, of her rejection.

She looked at him surprised – her lips parted in astonishment as if she didn't know what to reply to his words, her quivering fingers touched his hand stroking her cheek.

"I fear your harsh judgment, brother. It seems to me that my person often arouses your frustration and impatience." She muttered in shame, lowering her gaze; he felt a squeeze in his throat at her words, not believing what he heard, what she confessed to him.

I am afraid of your harsh judgment, brother.

It seems to me that my person often arouses your frustration and impatience.

How could she think so? Was his eternal desire, his suffering so expressed in his gaze, his facial expressions, his gestures?

Did she perceive his rage at the lack of her closeness as his constant displeasure at the sight of her?

He was horrified by how deep the misunderstanding reached – he didn't know what he should do to fix it now, to reverse it, he ran out of words that could describe what he felt.

How glad he was that she was standing before him now, that she trusted him, that he had adored her from the moment she came into the world, cherished her with a love that was warm, tender and devoted, that he believed she had been born to be his, his sweet joy, his beautiful little sister.

He swallowed loudly, parting her plump, fleshy lips with his thumb, looking at her in emotion, feeling a painful tightness in his throat.

"My sweet sister, where did these words come from? How could I feel anything but adoration towards you?" He asked softly, feeling her whole body quiver at his words – her mouth parted involuntarily, letting his thumb go deeper, between her puffy, sticky lips.

Something changed in her gaze, dreamy and warm, from which he felt heat in his chest and lower abdomen, her fingertips digging into the skin of his palm.

"Ivestragī umbagon issa (let me stay)." She whispered in a trembling, uncertain voice, and he felt his breath caught in his throat, his manhood throbbed aggressively in his breeches at the thought that she wanted to stay in his bed, in his embrace.

His surprised silence made her lower her gaze, ashamed, apparently panicking at the thought of what she had suggested, of how indecent it was, surely thinking that he would now despise her.

"Very well." He muttered quickly, not wanting her to leave his side.

She lifted her hopeful gaze to him and nodded, swallowing loudly, her cheeks pink with emotion. He rubbed his thumb over her wet skin and leaned over her placing a tender, lingering kiss on her forehead, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.

He took her small hand in his, guiding her towards his bed, sitting down on it with his face towards her, letting her stand over him and decide what would happen next, looking at her pleasant, girlish figure.

It seemed to him that she had no idea what they were doing, whether it was right – he could see thoughts and doubts running across her face, fears of what would happen if their mother found out.

"Come. Do not fret. Your big brother would never hurt you." He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion – he was hot, his heart pounding like mad in his chest, he felt butterflies in his stomach, a sweet delight of satisfaction spread through his body.

His words emboldened her; she stepped closer to him, standing between his thighs, breathing loudly. He sighed and closed his eyes as she took his face in her soft hands, stroking it for a moment with gentle, slow movements that made his throat dry up; he felt with horror that his cock was completely hard, all swollen and throbbing.

In a gesture of desperation he snuggled into her abdomen, clasping his large hands on her back – he heard her surprised gasp, her hands froze upwards for a moment before they began in a soft, calm motion to stroke his head as if he were a small child.

He closed his eyes, snuggling into her body, the material of her gown pleasantly delicate and soft; he could feel her flesh throbbing from beneath it, her womb that could swell with his inheritance, his dragon seed that could root deep inside her if only she noticed his devotion and love, if only she understood that they had always been destined for each other.

He clenched his fingers tighter on the material of her gown when he felt her lean in, enclosing him in her embrace – his face was locked between her shoulders, her womb and her breasts, enveloping him in her warmth, her hands running down his back with such tenderness and gentleness that he closed his eyes, wanting to focus only on that feeling.

"I am terrified, lēkia." She whispered softly, her breasts trembling in a broken breath – he moved away to look at her, his hand cupped her soft, warm cheek.

"Marry me, issa dōna rūklon (my sweet flower). Marry me and I will protect you. I will caress you, adore you, hold you in my arms, I will give you everything." He said in a quivering, low voice, placing the emphasis on the last word, so final, direct, betraying how desperate he was.

She looked at him for a moment, shocked, her lips twitching in disbelief, in terror and something else that shone in her dark eyes, but which he did not comprehend.

"You don't have to do this. Sacrifice yourself for me." She mumbled with a blush of shame, as if she thought his suggestion stemmed from his logic and tactics, from helping her not to leave her home, rather than from his feelings.

"How much longer do you want to torment me? Shall I fall on my knees before you and beg?" He asked resentfully, pain emerging from his throat with every word he spoke – her eyebrows arched in disbelief, her breasts began to rise and fall rapidly in accelerated, ragged breathing.

Her face expressed that only now did she realise what he meant.

"Marry me, brother. Marry me and never leave me again." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard her – they looked at each other with wide eyes, not believing what had just left their mouths, flushes of shame and doubt burning their cheeks.

He shuddered and drew in a loud breath as she placed her hands on his shoulders and climbed tentatively into his lap, startling him completely – he felt a jolt of heat, his cock so hard that he felt like it was about to explode.

All he felt was a squeeze in his throat and the heavy pounding of his heart when her soft fingers gently grasped his hand, her face blushing with embarrassment, a sigh full of arousal escaped her lips as she pulled her gown up, slipping it slowly between her legs.

They both opened their mouths wide and gasped loudly, surprised apparently at how intimate and shameless this sensation was – he thought in disbelief that she was leaking with desire, her hot opening pulsating restlessly under his fingers, her hand pressing them harder against her quivering flesh, eager to feel him deeper.

"− please − please −" She whimpered, breathing loudly, looking at him pleadingly with her dark eyes full of tears. He stared at her in shock wondering if it was possible that he had made a mistake, that he had misjudged the situation, that contrary to what he thought, she was reciprocating his affection.

His lack of hesitation, his fingertips that dug into her fleshy, hot womanhood surprised her so much that she squealed and hopped up on his lap – he put his free arm around her and held her in place, not letting her escape.

"− easy, little dove − shhhh −" He hushed her, his two fingers sinking into her plump muscles, collecting her moisture that leaked from her thirsty, throbbing core. He stared at her, seeing the expression on her face indicating that this experience had shocked her, sweet, soft moans erupted from her puffy, glistening lips, her hips involuntarily began to move to the rhythm of his hand.

"− that's it − let me take care of you − brothers know what is good for their sisters, don't they? −" He hummed low as if he were speaking to a small child and she only nodded, clearly having trouble concentrating. He sighed in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her moist, sweet lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.

He murmured into her mouth with delight, thinking with awe that indeed her skin felt like the flesh of a fruit, wet and sticky to the touch, his fingertips teasing her bud hidden between her folds. He could feel her bouncing in his lap and trembling all over, quivering in his arms as his fingers roamed around that spot, their breaths raspy and loud, full of desire.

"− y-yes − right here, lēkia − mghmm −" She babbled in between their messy, saliva-wet kisses – he dared to slip his tongue between her plump lips answered by her sweet purr of pleasure, his hand all soaked with her juices, his long, slender fingers digging into her skin in circular, sure strokes.

"− just like that − soaking wet for me − issa dōna hāedar (my sweet little sister) −" He cooed in delight, feeling his swollen length pushing impatiently against his breeches, thinking only of how wonderful it would be to feel her, to watch his fat cock open her wide, her tight folds glistening from her moisture.

"− mhm −" She hummed between passionate, deep, ferocious kisses, a combination of their lips, teeth and tongues licking against each other.

She tilted her head back and moaned loudly as his fingers slowly made their way inside her, exploring her throbbing, swollen core – his thumb rubbed her her pearl, his fingertips searched intensely for the spot he'd read so much about in books, and when he found it her walls began to clench around him in convulsions, a pathetic whimper escaping her lips.

"− o-oh gods, brother, yes, please, please, please −" She mewled desperately, clasping her hands in his long hair, rising and falling on his fingers with a loud click of her moisture – he grasped the nape of her neck with his free hand and pulled her close, forcing her lips, swollen from his caresses, to join his in sticky, hot kiss.

"− come on, little one − I can feel you are close − thaaat's it, there we go −" He gasped out into her throat when a powerful shudder ran through her body, her moans of delight erupting from her mouth again and again as her hot muscles began to clench greedily around his fingers, sucking him inside, his hand all sticky with her fulfilment.

He was panting loudly along with her, cuddling her quivering body, thinking of how wonderfully warm and fleshy her insides were, how perfectly she would squeeze his cock once he could possess her whole, his sweet wife, filling her to the brim with his seed every night.

He intended to perform his marital duty with passionate devotion.

"− such a good girl − you did so well for me, dōna hāedar −" He praised her, wanting to reassure and soothe her, stroking her soft hair, pressing her face to the hollow of his neck, his hand between her thighs cupped over her pulsing, moist womanhood.

The smell of her wetness, of her flesh, of her sex filled his entire lungs, so lewd, ungodly and wonderfully carnal – his mouth placed involuntarily little butterfly kisses on her beautiful face, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted in delight and disbelief, her hands clenched on the material of his chemise.

He grasped her fingers in his and lifted them to his lips, kissing them with tenderness and reverence as his other hand stroked unashamedly her plump bare buttock hidden beneath the material of her gown.

"Now it's my turn."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

[lonelymagpies]

Finally finished this very self indulgent piece with Aemond and my OC Kirke being sleepy softies.

Started as a study over a “Night” detail by Ferdinand Hodler and then I wanted to challenge myself with lights🌙

Close ups and reference under the cut 💖

[kckt88]

Closer

Summary:

Lucaela is a strong bastard-the twin sister of the boy who maimed him with a blade, but she's also the sweetest Omega he's ever scented, and Aemond soon finds himself unable to fight against the primal urge of the Alpha inside him, who has chosen his neice as the perfect mate.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Masturbation, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, P in V, Knotting, Mating Bites.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C LUCAELA VELARYON

INSPIRED BY - 'NINE INCH NAILS - CLOSER'

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 4569

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.

Aemond strode across the training grounds of the Red Keep, his sword in hand, the sound of steel slicing through the air as he practiced his swordsmanship. His movements were fluid, each strike precise and powerful, a testament to years of training and discipline.

As he paused for a moment to catch his breath, a sweet fragrance wafted on the breeze, the scent of ripe peaches teasing his senses. Aemond's nostrils flared as he instinctively turned his head, searching for the source of the delightful aroma.

And there she was, emerging from the shadows like a vision—Lucaela, his niece a recently presented Omega. Her presence stirring the Alpha within. She was the twin sister of Lucerys, the boy who had took his eye when they were children. Aemond harboured a deep-seated hatred for Lucerys, but he couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Lucaela.

"Lucaela," greeted Aemond, his voice low and tinged with a hint of something he dared not name.

“Uncle” replied Lucaela.

A wave of desire swept over Aemond like a tempest, igniting a fire within his soul that threatened to consume him whole.

Lucaela was the epitome of beauty, her long, dark wavy hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk, framing her delicate features with an ethereal glow.

Her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light purple, she was the only one out of her strong siblings that had inherited the Targaryen eyes.

And then there was her peach scent that enveloped him like a cloak, sending his senses reeling with its intoxicating allure. It was a scent he could never forget, a scent that awakened the Alpha within him, urging him to claim the omega as his own.

With every breath he took, Aemond could feel the pull of Lucaela's scent drawing him closer, igniting a hunger deep within him that refused to be ignored. The Alpha inside him roared with a primal need, demanding dominance, craving possession.

“What brings you to the training grounds?” asked Aemond, the point of his sword digging into the ground as he rested his weight upon it.

“I found myself drawn to this part of the castle-I was watching you train” replied Lucaela.

“-And did you like what you saw?” rasped Aemond smirking.

“Your skill with the sword is impressive-you’ll win many tourneys”.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys-nephews have you come to train?” quipped Aemond as Jace and Luke came to a stop beside Lucaela who scowled.

“Open the gates-“

Aemond smiled at Vaemond Velaryon made his way inside the Red Keep, flanked by a retinue of guards.

Alone in the dimly lit chambers, Aemond sat upon a plush chair, his mind consumed by thoughts of Lucaela.

The sweet scent of peaches still clung to the air, haunting him with its intoxicating allure. Aemond's fingers clenched tightly around the armrests of his chair as he fought against the primal urges stirring within him.

The petition for Vaemond to seize control of Driftmark had failed, his sickly father had miraculously roused himself from his stupor and came to the aid of Rhaenyra-his favourite child.

Viserys had steadfastly upheld the bastard strong boys claim to Driftmark and Vaemond had lost his head for it.

Now he would have to endure spending more time in the presence of Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards, his presence would be expected at dinner, and he would have to be in the same room as Lucaela.

Never in his life had he been this tempted by the scent of an Omega, just thinking about her was enough to make his cock hard. He’d already fucked his fist three times since their encounter in the training yard and it had done nothing to satisfy his desire.

Aemond closed his eye, trying in vain to banish her from his thoughts, but her image remained etched into the depths of his mind. The soft curve of her lips, the warmth of her gaze—each detail a tantalizing temptation that threatened to unravel his self-control.

For an Alpha, the scent of an Omega, especially a newly presented one, is like a siren's song, weaving its way through the air and captivating their senses with its intoxicating sweetness. It ignites a fire within them, awakening desires that they struggle to contain.

The Alpha within him surged with a primal longing, a desire as ancient as time itself. It whispered to him in the depths of his soul, urging him to claim Lucaela as his own, to make her his mate, and to sire pups with her.

In the quiet solitude of his chambers, Aemond wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between the responsibilities of his station and the yearnings of his heart. His Alpha instincts raged, demanding dominance and possession, driving him to seek out Lucaela and bind her to him in an unbreakable bond.

He imagined her taking his knot, his fangs sinking into her neck, forever claiming her as his. He pictured her belly swollen with his pups. The Alpha within him growling with satisfaction, his cock hard again.

“Fuck-“ groaned Aemond as his hands moved to untie his breeches once more.

Not even a day she had been back in the Red Keep and already he’d been reduced to hiding in his chambers fucking his own fist.

He briefly considered finding another Omega or perhaps a Beta female, perhaps if he could find one that looked similar to-

NO-the Alpha inside him would not accept a substitute, it had to be Lucaela.

His cock as hard as steel, already leaking precum and he began to move his hand up and down.

“Fuck-“ groaned Aemond his hips moving back and forth.

His mind a wash with vivid images of Lucaela, under him, on top of him, of him behind her, fucking his knot into her sweet wet warm cunny.

Gods he felt like he was in rut, his hips and fist moving faster, he was close-so close.

The scent of peaches-fuck he wondered if she tasted like a ripe peach, one of his favourite fruits.

Soft-sweet, perfect for sinking his teeth into.

“Lucaela-my Lucy-MINE” roared Aemond as he erupted, his seed spilling all over his fist and lower abdomen.

Aemond collapsed against the back of the chair, his heart pounding in his chest, the knot at the base of his cock throbbed continuously.

Then a soft knock at the door, broke Aemond out his reverie.

“Dinner is ready Prince Aemond-your presence is expected”.

“I’ll be there in a moment” replied Aemond, tucking his cock back in his breeches and reaching for a cloth.

God this dinner was going to be hell. But he must endure. He must do his duty. He supposed he could always hold his breath, that way he would smell the Omega’s scent, but that would also lead to his untimely death, and he couldn’t hold his breath all night.

His cock stirred once again at the thought of Lucaela and Aemond shook his head in disbelief.

“Fuck sake-not again” snapped Aemond as he ran a hand over his face.

No-he couldn’t indulge himself, otherwise he’d be late. So, with a deep breath he left his chambers and made his way to the dining room.

Praying to every fucking one of the seven that he could restrain himself.

The scent of roasted meats and spiced wines filled the air, mingling with the chatter and laughter of his relatives, yet beneath the facade of familial camaraderie, Aemond's inner turmoil raged like a storm.

Seated alongside his kin, Aemond struggled to maintain his composure, his fingers tightening around the stem of his goblet as he forced himself to focus on the conversation swirling around him. But try as he might to distract himself, his thoughts kept returning to Lucaela.

The Alpha within him clawed desperately at the confines of his self-control, yearning to claim her as his own, to dominate and possess her in a primal display of dominance. It whispered seductive promises of fulfilment and satisfaction, urging him to seize what he desired most.

But Aemond knew he couldn't succumb to those urges, not here, not now, surrounded by his family so, Aemond gritted his teeth against the tumult of his inner turmoil, his facade of stoicism masking the turmoil raging within. He cast furtive glances across the table, his gaze lingering on Lucaela, who sat beside her brother Lucerys, her expression a mask of serene composure.

Each glance only served to fuel the fire burning within him, the Alpha's hunger growing more insatiable with each passing moment. He longed to reach out and claim Lucaela, to mark her as his own and brand her with his scent—a symbol of their bond forged in the crucible of desire.

Not even his father’s desperate rambling were enough to distract him, not even the toasts, or even his sister Helaena dancing with Jace.

She was Aegon’s wife, but obviously the drunk cunt could only sit and stare as the bastard strong boy twirled her around in time with the music.

After his father had been escorted from the dining room, Aemond prayed for the night to come to a close, he had to get back to his chambers, his cock was throbbing with need, and he was sure the scent of his arousal was becoming more and more obvious by the second, due to the looks that Lucaela was giving him and the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

Then the roasted pig was placed in front on him, and that bastard boy had the audacity to laugh at him.

His fist colliding loudly with the table, and he rose to his feet thanking the gods that his leather jerkin was long enough to hide the bulge in his breeches.

“Final tribute” said Aemond picking up his goblet “To the health of my niece and nephews-Lucaela, Jace and Luke-each of them handsome, wise and strong-“

“Aemond” warned Alicent.

“Come-let us drain our cups to these three strong-“

“-I dare you to say that again” challenged Jace.

“Why, it was only a compliment. Don’t you think yourself strong?” challenged Aemond, as Jace’s fist collided with the side of his face.

The dining room erupted into a cacophony of noise, Lucerys who had rose to defend his brother Jace had been slammed headfirst into the table, Lucaela had then slid her hands into Aegon’s silver hair and wrenched him away from her twin brother-and Jace had been shoved to the floor.

Aemond’s blood was growing hot as he watched Lucaela defending her brother, he didn’t give two shits about Luke, but it was the way in which the Omega had fiercely risen from her seat and thrown herself into the chaos.

The hard slap she delivered to Aegon’s pale cheek had the Alpha inside Aemond growling with delight.

But Jace had hauled himself of the floor and was charging towards Aemond, who braced himself ready to fight.

“Wait-wait-“ snarled Daemon, stepping in between the two.

“Go to your chambers-all of you go now” ordered Rhaenyra.

Aemond watched as Lucaela bowed her head to her mother and followed her brothers from the dining room.

As he watched her leave Aemond suddenly became very aware that Daemon was watching him with intrigue, following his gaze.

The older Alpha raised his non-existent eyebrows at Aemond who decided it was for the best to stand down, challenging Daemon wouldn’t do him any favours, not with Lucaela anyway.

So, he left the dining room, not bothering to deal with the aftermath of his actions as there was something else that demanded his attention.

Aemond’s footsteps echoed softly as he made his way through the corridors of the Red Keep, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows along the stone walls, casting an eerie glow upon his determined features.

He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't succumb to the forbidden desires that tugged at his soul like a riptide dragging him under. But the scent of Lucaela lingered in his senses, a sweet intoxicating fragrance that called to him with an irresistible allure, driving him ever closer to her chambers.

As he reached the door to Lucaela's quarters, Aemond hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. His mind raced with a thousand reasons why he should turn back, why he should resist the primal urges that threatened to consume him.

But then he caught another whiff of her scent, carried on the breeze like a whispered promise, and all rational thought fled from his mind. With a shaky breath, he rapped his knuckles against the door, the sound echoing through the silent corridor.

The door creaked open, revealing Lucaela standing on the threshold, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him.

Aemond's gaze locked with hers, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the words to express the tempest of emotions raging within him. But before he could speak, the scent of Lucaela enveloped him like a tidal wave, washing away his doubts and fears in a flood of primal need.

“What do you want?” asked Lucaela.

“You know what I want-“ replied Aemond as he stepped inside the dimly lit chamber.

“No, I don’t-“

“-Sure, you do” said Aemond.

“You can’t want me-“ muttered Lucaela, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why not?” snarked Aemond.

“I thought I was a bastard-you said it yourself. Handsome, wise and strong”

“When it comes to you I was wrong, I should have said pretty and perfect for birthing my pups” growled Aemond as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a single stride. He could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, beckoning him closer with each passing second.

And then, without a word, he crushed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

His Alpha roaring with delight, at the sweet taste of the Omega.

Breaking away from the kiss, Lucaela gasped for breath, her eyes meeting Aemond's with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "We mustn't," she breathed, her voice trembling with restraint. "We should court properly, earn the blessing of the King and our family.”

Aemond's brows furrowed, a shadow passing over his features as he shook his head in disbelief. "You know as well as I do, Lucy," he murmured, his voice tinged with bitterness. "My mother and grandsire would never allow such a match to take place. They would sooner see us wed to strangers for political gain than grant their blessing to our union."

“Aemond” whimpered Lucaela as he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"You can feel it, can't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "The pull of my Alpha scent”

Lucaela's breath caught in her throat at his words, her heart pounding with a mixture of longing and apprehension. She wanted to deny it, to cling to the remnants of her resolve, but the undeniable truth hung heavy in the air between them.

"I-I shouldn't," she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she fought to resist the primal urges that threatened to consume her. "We mustn't give in to temptation, Aemond. We must honour our duty and our family."

But even as she spoke the words, Lucaela could feel the last vestiges of her resistance crumbling beneath the weight of Aemond's presence, his Alpha scent wrapping around her like a velvet cloak, suffusing her senses with a heady intoxication that left her dizzy with desire.

Aemond's lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You cannot deny the pull any longer, Issa dōna," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "Our desires are too strong, too primal to be ignored” (My sweet).

With a soft gasp, Lucaela closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Aemond's in a searing kiss that left them both breathless and wanting more.

Lucaela had lost most of her senses the moment Aemond had pressed her onto the bed and knelt down between her open legs.

“Issa dōna Omega” whispered Aemond (My sweet Omega).

Lucaela’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Lucaela bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Ivestragī issa rȳbagon ao issa dōna” growled Aemond (Let me hear you my sweet).

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Lucaela.

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Lucaela, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Lucaela arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Lucaela’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Lucaela blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself my little strong girl” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Lucaela.

“Relax and let Alpha take care of you”.

Almost as if he could read Lucaela’s mind, Aemond smiled and began peppering gentle kisses all over Lucaela’s face.

“You can take it. Ao istan vēttan syt issa” whispered Aemond as he began rubbing his hard cock along Lucaela’s wet folds (You were made for me).

Suddenly Aemond rolls his hips forward and the entire hard length of him is buried inside Lucaela.

“A-Aemond” shrieks Lucaela at the sting of her maidenhead being taken.

Aemond stills for a moment, almost as if he is savouring the feeling of Lucaela’s tight wet heat being wrapped around him.

After a few mintues, Lucaela begins to writh against him.

“M-Move please Alpha. I need you” begged Lucaela desperately.

Aemond rolls his hips gently at first, allowing Lucaela the time to adjust to the feeling of his cock moving back and forth inside her, but when his sweet Omega begins issuing pleas of ‘Harder and faster’ Aemond loses it and begins fucking Lucaela into the mattress.

Their hips pound together as Aemond thrusts hard and fast, his movements brutal and precise.

“Lucaela. My Omega” moans Aemond as his cock begins to thicken at the base.

“Yes. Yes. Oh, it’s feels so good. Alpha don’t stop. Fuck me harder. I can take it”

“Going to fill you up with my seed. I want to see you swollen with my pups” hisses Aemond.

“Yes. Alpha breed me. I want to grow round with your pup. I will give you as many pups as you desire” exclaimed Lucaela.

“Y-Your neck. I need too-Claim you” growls Aemond.

“Yes, Alpha claim me. Make me yours” begs Lucaela.

With a low growl of desire, Aemond tilts Lucaela's head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck to his hungry gaze.

His cock throbbing with anticipation,

Lucaela's breath hitched as she felt the heat of Aemond's lips brush against her skin, his touch igniting her blood. Then, she felt the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into her flesh, a mixture of pleasure and pain flooding her senses.

Aemond's Alpha scent enveloped her, swirling around her like a whirlwind, as Lucaela surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. With a gasp of ecstasy, she arched against him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt their bond solidifying, the mating bond that would bind them together for eternity.

But even as Aemond claimed her as his own, Lucaela's own Omega instincts surged to life, driving her to reciprocate the gesture. With a fierce determination, she bit down on Aemond's neck.

Whilst her teeth are not as sharp as Aemonds, they still manage to puncture his mating gland. Sealing Alpha and Omega together forever. Their bond snapping into place. Their hearts as one.

The blood from their bites running down their bodies, as they moved together. Her Alpha fucked her hard and fast, his hips pounding against hers. The sound of skin slapping together echoed around the chambers.

As Aemond gives one last thrust and forces his knot inside Lucaela, spilling rope after rope of his seed inside his Omega, which made Lucaela throw her own head back and scream, as she reached her peak, clenching around her Alpha’s pulsating cock.

It didn’t stop there, Aemond only needed a few moments of rest before growing hard inside of his Omega again.

As Lucaela’s legs relaxed and let go of her hold on Aemond, his knot had deflated enough to allow him to move backwards, and he raised himself to his knees between Lucaela’s legs.

The loss of her Alpha inside her made Lucaela whimper as the ache quickly returned. 

“Roll over” ordered Aemond. It was a command, an Alpha command, and Lucaela whimpered as she felt it take control of her body, she had to obey, she had to please her Alpha.

She was now on all fours in front of him, ready to be mounted again. Her waves of scent and slick made Aemond almost stagger. He pushed his cock into the whimpering Omega once more with shaky hands and proceeded to pound her even harder and quicker than before, snapping his hips against her while grunting loudly, driving needy moans out of Lucaela. 

Aemond was gripping her hips so hard that his nails were digging into her skin, leaving marks everywhere, the pain drove Lucaela wild with need and she needed to feel more of it.

Almost as if he could sense what she needed, Aemond reached forward and grabbed Lucaela’s hair, making her head shoot back. Lucaela cried out to her Alpha in pleasure, making Aemond growl.

His knot started to slowly push inside Lucaela, and she let out a feral cry as the knot made its way deeper and deeper inside of her.

It swelled up so much, it hurt, it hurt so good.

“A-Aemond-yes-yes-please” babbled Lucaela as she peaked, her slick dripping onto the sheets.

“I will have you dripping with my seed my sweet Omega. I can’t wait to see you swell with my pups, everyone will know your mine-“ moaned Aemond.

Aemond thrust one, two, three more times before growling once again, shooting his seed deep inside Lucaela, filling her up. He grunted out Lucaela’s name chasing the pleasure of his own peak. He then let out a deep, satisfied breath before collapsing onto his Omega.

Aemond moved his face to Lucaela’s neck again, and lovingly nuzzled her.

Lucaela laid trembling underneath him, his knot had swelled and locked together,

“ñuhon” muttered Aemond (Mine).

In the depths of the night, shrouded in shadows cast by flickering torchlight, Lucaela made her way down to the skull of Balerion, the ancient relic looming over her like a silent sentinel of the past. She paused before the massive skull, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

As she waited, Lucaela reached up to the fresh mating mark on her neck and grimaced at the dried blood lingering on her skin.

At the sound of footsteps, Lucaela took a deep breath and turned to face Daemon.

"Is it done?"

Lucaela nodded, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within her. "Yes," she replied, her words echoing softly in the cavernous chamber. "Aemond has claimed me as his mate. His seed has filled my womb."

A slow smile spread across Daemon's lips, a flicker of satisfaction dancing in his eyes. "Well done," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the darkness.

“Thank you-father” whispered Lucaela.

"You must lay with him as many times as you can to ensure that you carry Aemond's pup," he said, his tone firm and commanding. "No Alpha would ever turn away from their own child and with Aemond on our side, your mother's path to the Iron Throne is clearer than ever."

"I-I understand," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper as she met Daemon's gaze with a mixture of resignation and determination.

Daemon nodded; his expression unreadable as he regarded her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the chamber. "With his pup in your womb, our position will be secure”.

“What of those who conspire against mother?” asked Lucaela.

“Otto Hightower isn’t the only treasonous cunt involved, soon the others will reveal themselves and when they do-justice will served” replied Daemon his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister.

“Perzys se ānogar” said Lucaela (Fire and Blood).

Daemon's eyes softened as he looked upon Lucaela, a sense of pride swelling within him like a flame dancing in the darkness. Of Rhaenyra's three children from her first marriage, Lucaela was his favourite—the embodiment of everything he believed a Targaryen should be.

"You have done well" he said, his voice carrying the weight of his admiration. "But now, it is time for you to return to your mate and get some rest. Thanks to you, the war will be won before it even begins”

As Lucaela made her way back to her chambers, her mind drifted back to Daemon's plan.

Her presentation as an Omega had marked a turning point, her scent at its strongest—a heady concoction of sweetness and allure that had the power to captivate even the most stoic of unmated Alphas. It was a scent that could drive men to madness, igniting a primal hunger that could not be ignored.

Whispers had reached Dragonstone of Ottos plans to usurp the Iron Throne when Viserys passed and have Aegon crowned, and Daemon knew they had to play it smart at least for now and he had seen the potential of her power as an Omega and recognized the opportunity it presented.

Aemond and Vhagar were Otto’s biggest asset, and without them he was nothing.

So, Daemon had suggested that she deliberately place herself in front of Aemond, play coy and let her scent drive him wild with desire until he could resist her no longer.

Lucaela pushed open the door, the soft light of the moon casting a gentle glow across the room, illuminating the seed and blood-stained sheets that bore witness to their passionate union.

Aemond was still asleep, his features softened by the embrace of slumber, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

As Lucaela slipped beneath the covers and nestled against Aemond's side, his arms instinctively wrapping around her and pulling her close, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over her like a wave crashing against the shore.

And as she lay there in the darkness, wrapped in Aemond's embrace, Lucaela couldn't help but wonder if perhaps being mated to him wouldn't be so bad after all.

The fervour in which he had taken her to bed had been unlike anything she had expected, growing up the septa’s had always told her of a woman’s duty, that she existed for a man’s pleasure and not her own.

But Aemond had shown her that there was much pleasure to be had, and she couldn’t wait to experience more.

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (III)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 2613

CW: Mentions of death, violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry i haven't posted in a while I've been ill and busy will college, hope you enjoy, I don't really like how this chapter turned out, but next chapter their will be a little time skip

Two months following her and Aemonds betrothal, grief struck Kings Landing.

First was the death of the Strongs, ser Harwin and lord Lynol. Then came the news of her Aunt Leana’s death.

They had travelled to Driftmark for Leana’s funeral, a morbid affair she did not wish to attend, especially after receiving all those nasty looks from her Veleryon kin. Her father had been lost to the world of grief, the death of his sister taking over, and his days spent wallowing in the sea. Her mother was better, though isolated. Focusing all her attention on the new babe.

She, as always, stood beside Aemond, few things had changed between them since their courtship began, Aemonds possessive nature towards her had come out tenfold. Though the general rules of courtship dictated they remain an ‘appropriate distance’ from one another and must always remain accompanied (a fact her septa had constantly reminded her), they instead broke every rule, acting as if they were already wed, they even shared a bed every night (which Aemond insisted had to remain secret), Aemond claiming it was then ‘practising for married life’. Though Aemma was not too sure what the fuss was about. People had begun to treat her like a grown woman, even her mother, acting as if she were not a child who had yet to reach her tenth name day.

She had decided grown-up life seemed incredibly dull, even her lessons changed, now focusing on new responsibilities, such as sewing and running a household.

She hated the whole thing, hated that her lessons with Aemond were now few and far between.

Her brothers had too changed since her betrothal, namely Jace. Though it was more recent, (mainly due to the strong departure and death, why that seemed to greatly affect Jace’s behaviour she was not sure) He had insisted on being her and Aemonds chaperone, though they usually managed to escape him, he would follow them around, breaking them apart whenever they did something ‘improper’, she had begun to refer to him as septa Jace, though not out loud, she even began to think allowing her septa to chaperone them may be better than his company.

Aemond himself didn’t seem to care, he had never liked Jace and seemed to act up more in his presence, becoming more possessive of her, even manhandling her (not that she knew what that was). If she was anyone else perhaps, she would have been worried over his possessive nature, But she did not, she loved it. In truth, there was nothing wrong with it as far as she was aware.

Her mother had been the same. So protective and controlling of her life that it felt right.

With Aemond though it never felt like he was controlling her, she felt it was normal, he would protect her from the mean words and looks from others (not that she knew they were even happening), and he would even take her out of septa lessons were she was being taught ‘nonsense’, an action both her mother and Aemond partook in.

Aemond was a constant presence that she could rely on, he was the one by her side as she heard the news of each of the deaths. He had instantly sought her out after the news of Ser Harwin, she may not have been as close as Jace and Luke were to him, but he had always been there with a kind smile and open arms for her. As for her aunt, she had never met Laena, but her father always told her stories of her, she had wanted to, and now she never would.

Aemond gripped her hand tightly as she sniffed her tears.

“We have nothing in common!” Aegon whined next to them.

She had decided to stand with Aemond and Helena, having had enough of the stares she received from the Velaryons as she stood beside her mothers and brothers. Heleana was on one side, crotched in the dirt playing with some new insect she had discovered, and on the other stood Aegon, already deep in his cups.

“she’s our sister” Aemond reminded, following their betrothal her grandfather saw fit to preserve the Valyrian bloodline once more and betrothed Heleana and Aegon.

“You marry her then!”

“He is to marry me, uncle” Aemma replied, naively, moving to crotch near Heleana “Perhaps he should have betrothed Heleana and Jacaerys, Helena would be a good queen!”

Aemond and Aegon shared a look.

“She is to be your wife, brother, show her some respect”  he replied, choosing to ignore her words. He moved to pull Aemma back up from the ground “You’ll muddy your dress”.

“Heleana already has, what does it matter if I do!” she replied, kneeling, and looking at Helena’s newest bug, “what is that?” she asked, but instead of an answer, she was met with Heleana muttering about a hand and spools of black and green.

“Aemma” she heard her mother call her, pulling her away from the ground and Aemond.

“Mother? What is it?” she asked,

“it is time to bed sweet girl,” her mother spoke, caressing her face.

“But it’s early!” she whined, Aemond would not wish to go to bed yet, she was sure to not find any sleep.

“just go.” Her mother sighed.

Aemma was woken to the sounds of shouts coming from the great hall. The whole family had gathered in the dead of night, the hall was silent when she reached it, her mother comforting her brothers, receiving Alicent’s disapproving stare.

The Hall was split in two, the whole of Driftmark in attendance. On one side stood her mother, brothers, cousins and Veleryon grandparents, on the other her grandsire, Alicent, Heleana and Aegon. Someone was sitting in a chair facing away from them all, maesters surrounding them.

“Muña?” she questioned confused as to what was going on “What happened? Where’s Aemond?”

“Oh, my sweet girl” her mother ran, pulling her to her and her brothers.

“What happened? Where’s Ae-“She was cut off, a sob leaving her mouth as his head popped around the chair. His eye gashed out and his face was swollen.

“Aemond!” she gasped, moving from her mother’s grip, “what happened?” she cried, reaching for his face.

He hissed, pulling back, “They attacked me!” he shouted pointing to her brothers and cousins.

“What! Why?” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest, “why? Why would they do that to you?”

“He attacked Baela” she heard Jace shout back.

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“ENOUGH!” her grandsire demanded; his anger apparent.

“He was going to kill Jace!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Aemond insisted, pulling Aemma’s face closer into his chest, finding solace in her presence.

“ENOUGH!” her grandsire demanded once again.

“It should be my son telling the tale” Alicent insisted, moving her hand to rub Aemma’s back.

Her grandsire hit his cane to the floor, demanding silence, “Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened, now!”

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed…Her son is responsible”.

“It was a regrettable accident” her mother spoke.

“How was taking his eye an accident?” Aemma questioned, moving her head back to look at her mother, “what could he have possibly done to deserve his eye being taken?” she questioned, glaring at Luke as he shrunk back behind their mother.

Alicent nodded her head, agreeing with Aemma, “The prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son!” she insisted, causing Aemma to gasp and continue her teary glare at her brothers.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves… Vile insults were levied against them” her mother declared.

“What insults?”

Her mother hesitated “The legitimacy of my…son’s birth was put loudly to the question”.

“What?”

Speaking up, Luke said “he called us bastards!” sending her a pleading gaze, trying to prove his innocence, but Aemma only saw his guilt, he took her Aemonds eye, and whatever Aemond did she doubted had cause for his eye to be taken.

Looking at Aemond, she whispered “What’s a bastard?” with confusion written on her face, Aemond only shook his head, guilt shimmering in his eye.

“My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons…. Prince Aemond must be Sharpley questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders”.

“He just lost his eye, and you want to… to interrogate him, over an…” Aemma lead off, confusion clear in her tone, but Alicent continued for her.

“Over and insult? My son has lost an eye!”

Her grandsire moved towards Aemond, Aemma was ushered off Aemonds lap, moving to stand near Heleana. “You tell me, boy, where did you hear this lie?” her grandsire demanded.

Alicent was quick to respond, coming to Aemonds defence, (perhaps even her own) “This insult was training yard bluster, it was nothing”. But her grandsire paid no attention to her, only moving to question Aemond again.

where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The children’s father? Perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.”

“Yes, where is Ser Laenor?”

“he’s at the beach” Aemma interrupted, “ he has not left the sea since we arrived,” she looked around the room, her move gaining some sense of confidence from Aemma’s interruption.

“yes, he nor I could find sleep, we took a walk on the beach, where Laenor chose to remain” Her mother nodded, a smug smile gracing her face as Alicent kissed her teeth.

Her grandsire spoke, stopping Alicent from changing the subject once again “Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Aemond shifted his gaze to his mother, “It was Aegon” he answered, moving his gaze to his brother.

“Me?” Aegon asked confused, she had never heard him say it before, then again until today, she had never heard the word at all. And seeing how uncomfortable the word made everyone, it made sense for Aegon, he seemed to thrive on the discomfort of others.

“And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?” her grandsire spat “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them” Aegon sighed, eyes turning to her brothers, Aemma herself was pulled back to Aemond, who hid her from everyone’s gaze.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it.” Her grandsire demanded.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, ‘Good will’ cannot make Aemond whole” Alicent demanded.

“I know Alicent, but I cannot restore an eye,“ a deep sigh left her grandsire.

“No, because it’s been taken!” 

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return” Alicent declared, gasps filling the hall.

“My dear wife-”

Her eyes watered, her son, their sons’ eye had been taken and he does not seem to care “he is your son, Viserys. Your blood”

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment”

“If the king will not seek justice, the queen will. Ser Criston… Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Alicent ordered.

Luke let out a nervous shout for his mother, moving to hide behind her. 

“he can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son” Alicent spoke, Ser Criston stared down at her, unsure of what to do.

Turing to Ser Cole, her grandsire demanded “You will do no such thing… Stay your hand”.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she shouted at Ser Criston, as he stood unsurely “As your protector, my queen.”

“This matter is finished, do you understand?” her grandsire spoke to Alicent, moving away before declaring “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed!”

“Thank you, Father” her mother spoke, relief clear in her tone. But Alicent was enraged and moved towards grabbing the dagger from her grandsire and moved to charge at her mother and Luke.

Shouts filled the hall, trying to get Alicent to stop, but she continued.

“you’ve gone too far” her mother spoke, grabbing Alicent’s arm, preventing the dagger from diving into Luke’s eye.

“i? What have I done but what expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law. While you flout all to do as you, please” Alicent spat in reply. “Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? And now you take my son's eye, and to that event, you feel entitled”.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness” her mother replied, seeing Alicent face drop and her grip on the blade began to loosen. “But now they see you as you truly are,” she said lowly, the dagger slipped from Alicent’s hand, down her mother’s arm, blood dripping to the ground.

“This proceeding is at an end”

Aemma had not left Aemonds side since that night. She took over from the maesters, changing Aemonds bandage, and applying the ointment. She refused to let others near him, to leave him. Even when her mother tried to carry her out of the room herself, she would scream and protest. She only left once her mother came and told them they were leaving.

“I will not” she shook her head, ripped her arm from her mothers “I will not leave him, you can not make me!” she screamed.

“dōna riña” her mother begged, “please, my sweet girl, for me and your brothers they miss you, you will see in in a few years when you are to wed.” her mother sneered the last part, the maids had whispered about how her mother had pleaded with her grandsire to end the engagement, but only a fool would think she herself would let anyone but Aemond be her husband.

“I do not care! Alicent has said I can stay in Kings Landing, in my home, Mother please!” she begged “I cannot leave my Aemond, especially after what they did, stay Muña, please”.

“I cannot, sweet girl, it is for the best” her mother continued.

“For whom? For you? Mayhaps, but for me it will be nothing but pure torture, I will scream if you make me go, I will bring you nothing but hell if you take me there, take me away from MY AEMOND!” She shouted, streams streaming down her face.

She noticed the man then, he had silver hair like her mother’s family, she remembered who he was then, Aemond had mentioned him, their uncle Daemon, rider of Caraxes. He stood against the wall, his lip quirked and laughter leaving his lips, “leave her, let the Hightower cunts have her” he spoke up.

“Do not-“ her mother began, a sigh leaving her lips. She looked at Aemma, defeat filling her features, “Please, sweet girl, please”

“I won’t, I can’t leave him, Muña”.

Her mother sighed “ok, but if you ever, and I mean if for a second, a minute second, wish to come to Dragonstone, come. You are my daughter, my dōna riña, and you always will be my favourite girl” tears filled her mother’s eyes.

“of course, Muña, I love you” she whispered the last part, looking down “I’m sorry, I’ll miss you”.

“I love you too, I’ll miss you, sweet girl, I’ll visit whenever you ask” her mother promised.

Though that would soon become a lie, as Aemma would not see her mother for years to come.

next part

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

My lady strong: @aemondssiut @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19

Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter