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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 months

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A Dragon's Dilemma

Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Velaryon!reader

word count: 6k

warnings: infidelity, incest, some mentions of violence but nothing unbearable!

masterlist

The translation of what is said in High Valyrian is at the end!

It had been years since you or your siblings had last set foot in the castle. Six years, to be exact.

Everything had changed and, at the same time, looked exactly the same. Jacaerys and Lucerys were excited to return to the place where you grew up but you, however, still had your doubts about how good an idea it was. Of course it wasn’t a vacation visit, but a matter of great importance such as arguing for the right that belonged to your brother Lucerys was what had brought the entire family back to King's Landing.

As soon as you arrived the first thing you did was, of course, greet your grandfather whom you found in such a sorry state that you felt like crying. He could barely speak, was completely lying down and his physical appearance wasn’t at all pleasant to look at. But he was still the king and at least you were glad he was alive.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, gave you and your siblings complete freedom to wander around the castle as you pleased after that. You, unfortunately or fortunately, knew exactly where you wanted to go.

A part of you wished that during the welcome (which you didn't get, by the way) you could see your uncle Aegon. Curiosity killed you and above all there was a huge desire within you to know what had happened to him.

The last time you had the chance to talk was that unfortunate night when your (then) younger brother took it upon himself to gouge out your Uncle Aemond's eye. You and Aegon had been victims of the situation because it turned out that you were in his room that night and if it hadn't been for you hearing the commotion the queen probably would have found you passionately canoodling with her eldest son.

You had never planned for it to happen that way and of course you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help it. The boy was barely a couple of years older than you and unfortunately for you, love doesn’t pay much attention to those it attacks. More than love, you knew there was always a latent desire between you that probably would have been consummated if you had more time.

No one, not even your mother, had found out about it and to a certain extent you were grateful because according to the news that was circulating, Aegon had married Helaena and they had two children from that union. A pang of jealousy and an unjustified feeling of betrayal invaded you when you found out, although you knew that yours with the man was a childish fantasy that turned out to be impossible.

Hoping that Aegon was in the same room since the last time you had been in the Red Keep you made your way through the halls, praying that you wouldn't encounter any relatives who might question you about your intentions. The black dress you were wearing was something simple, but one of your favorites chosen especially for that occasion. Your brown hair had recently been cut so you had only asked your maid to make some braids to adorn your head.

The further you went, the more nervous you were and you even wondered what you would do if Aegon wasn’t in that room, questioning whether you would have the courage to look for him in the rest of the fortress or would you let that idea die for the good of everyone.

You almost fainted when you saw Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena walking along one of the balconies in the distance, but luckily neither of them noticed your presence before you could hide in a nearby nook.

“Your brother is a fool, it seems that he doesn't think, that he doesn't realize all the damage he does to this family…” you managed to hear and you knew, immediately, that you were going in the right direction.

Once you were out of danger you darted out of your hiding place and gathered your skirt in your hands, beginning to run towards the room you were looking for before anyone else showed up or until the queen returned to look for her son.

When you reached the door, out of breath, you took a moment to breathe and felt the beating of your racing heart throughout your chest. Your hair was sticking to your forehead due to the sweat you had released during the effort and while you were taking that moment you asked yourself again if this was a good idea. Determined, you pushed the doors to the room and then entered as cautiously as possible.

Aegon was confused between the white sheets of his mattress, since the curtains prevented much of the light from entering and the place was only illuminated by the warm tones of some candles. He seemed to be curled up in on himself, with his body barely covered to consider himself decent and hugging a pillow on which his face was hidden. Still, you didn't need to see him to know it was him, the completely white hair gave him away.

“Get out of here,” he gasped. From his voice you suspected he was crying and that only confused you more, so you walked over immediately.

Although of course, before that you made sure to lock the door.

“I want to be alone, moth…!” he spoke again, emerging from his hiding place to confront the intruder. However, he was frozen when he discovered that it wasn’t the queen who had entered his chambers.

“Am I coming at a bad time? I can leave if you want.”

“It's you,” he breathed out in surprise, as if he needed to say it out loud to make it real.

You thought there would be a little more conversation for the welcome, but the boy decided that it was more urgent to feel you close and he made it clear when he stretched one of his arms in your direction, offering his hand for you to take. You did not resist, but fulfilled his whim, letting him pull you until you were sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hello, Aegon,” you said kindly.

As soon as he knew you were close, the man entangled himself in you until he placed his head in the crook of your neck while his arms were responsible for holding you against his naked body. You still didn't see anything indecent, but you could feel the warm skin of his chest.

“You're here,” he continued happily, spreading slow kisses over whatever skin his mouth was within reach.

A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face when you realized that you hadn’t been the only one who had kept that feeling that had blossomed so many years ago well kept.

“I am,” you laughed gently. One of your hands traveled to his head to caress his scalp “I heard you got in trouble.”

“It's all stupid. Don't pay attention to anything you hear” he defended himself. From the smell on his body, as well as the appearance of the room, you suspected that the boy had been drinking before your arrival.

You put your hands between your bodies to push him to which he seemed scared, fearing that you were rejecting him, but his nerves eased when he discovered that you only wanted to be able to observe him.

You noticed that his eyes were swollen from the unshed tears behind which his irises shone.

“Hey, what's wrong, prince?” you asked motherly, raising both thumbs to wipe away his tears. “Is there something bothering you or is it just that in my absence you have softened?”

"When did you arrive?" he asked quietly, completely ignoring your questions.

"In the morning. I was hoping to greet you during the welcome but we didn't have one”

“I didn't even know you were coming. Otherwise I would have gone to the doors myself to receive you as you deserve”

“Would you dare to spoil me in front of my family?”

"Maybe not. But I would have let you take my arm and I would have stolen you to the rooms to do it”

A giggle left your lips at the joke and then you took a moment to observe each other. Aegon couldn't help but notice that your tits had grown and he could see them squeezed by your dress. Your features were still delicate but now they looked more experienced and you had cut your long hair.

You could barely recognize your uncle. His face was hardened, he had gained weight and had become robust, like a real man. You thought that he had changed too much since the last time you saw him and, to be honest, you couldn’t believe that he had become so handsome: while it was true that the marks under his eyes were more pronounced and there were some new scars, he still had the same indigo eyes with hints of purple that you loved to see so much.

"You have changed"

“And you became more beautiful,” he sighed, reaching out to cup your face with one of his hands.

Before you could process it, the boy had already approached you to kiss you, eager to take advantage of the little time you might have but at the same time desperate to feel your lips. They were still soft and inexperienced, almost as if prompting him to corrupt you.

“Aegon…”

“Hmm?”

“You have a wife and children.”

"So what?" he said nonchalantly, only moving on the mattress so he could hold your waist and get you closer to his body.

Kissing him was addictive, so you had a hard time putting two thoughts together coherently enough to push him away and tell him it was wrong. But deep down you didn't want to tell him either; it would be a lie to admit that your intentions when going to his room were only to greet him and chat with him.

His hands walked over your body, as if wanting to remember the shapes already forgotten by time, and you kept holding his face by his wet cheeks.

By doing that he was immediately distracted from whatever had happened and was torturing him, leaving room only for the feeling of satisfaction that came from nibbling and sucking on your lips.

After a few minutes, with one movement he laid you down on the bed and placed himself on top of you, which was enough to bring you back to reality. Just one kiss later, without too much force, but decisively, you placed a hand on his bare chest to push him away from you.

“Aegon,” you repeated sternly.

Whatever you had to say died in your throat as you looked down and noticed that the sheet could no longer protect him, revealing that he was completely naked.

The man looked amused by the situation.

"What? Did the dragon eat your tongue?” he made fun of you. Then he lowered himself just enough so that his lips were at the level of your ear “I can do some things that you might like with mine”

“Aegon, stop it,” you sighed shakily, your cheeks already quite red.

As best you could, you pushed him to the other side and he let you beat him just for the satisfaction of seeing you nervous. You sat back down on the mattress and threw a sheet over his crotch, more out of a matter of maintaining your self-control than out of modesty.

You had your back to him and the boy smiled from his position, wondering how long it would take you two to roll around in bed now that you were an adult and desires had become carnal. He thought that maybe you just wanted him to beg and he felt a bubbling inside, wishing he could persist until you agreed.

However, he was still somewhat hurt by the scene that had unfolded with his mother a few moments earlier and he wondered if you would be able to comfort him as he wished.

Innocently he approached you again and surrounded you from behind, leaving a fleeting kiss somewhere on your neck to test the waters. Seeing that you didn't object, he snuck under your arm and then laid his head on your lap like a cat looking for affection. To avoid temptation, he made sure to pull the sheet tight enough to cover most of his body.

“Where is the rest of your family?”

“My mother and Daemon talking to your mother, probably. I watched my brothers go towards the outer yard and Baela and Rhaena maybe with Rhaenys”

“Aemond was training in the yard so they will meet him. Let's hope this time no one loses an eye”

You giggled at that and Aegon held your hand up to his hair, asking you to pet it. You fulfilled his wish, while he snuggled closer to you.

It was strange that so much had happened and you felt with the same intensity that you had once shared. The problems between your families had never afflicted either of you two, because although both they and you had done questionable things, all that was forgotten as soon as their lips touched yours.

“Have you ever thought about what would have happened if your mother had accepted the engagement that mine proposed?”

"What are you talking about?"

“In having gotten married. You and I"

“You would be very unhappy,” he exclaimed confidently. “You only like me because you don't live with me every day.”

"Maybe you're right. But at least we would have had a lot of fun in the nights”

Aegon laughed and placed a distracted kiss on your arm.

“I guess you're not married yet, right, niece? Otherwise I doubt you would have come looking for me."

“There have been some candidates, but none convincing. Although it’s logical that they are dying to marry the next in the line of succession."

“Smug and mistaken, little princess,” he scoffed and both of you laughed.

You had already had that discussion before, but now you didn't have much heart to repeat it. Aegon claimed that, in case something happened to Rhaenyra, he was the heir and you confronted him by saying that since you were the firstborn, the position belonged to you. However, you knew beforehand that the man's desires were never to reign and that he was only trying to annoy you.

You yourself often wondered if you wanted to rule at some point in history, still afraid of what people might think of a woman on the iron throne. You weren’t blind and you knew that your right to the throne could be questioned not only because of that, but because of the supposed illegitimacy of your birth. You were a Targaryen, your mother's daughter, and that was all that mattered. But still, the thought of having to fulfill a duty of that magnitude completely overwhelmed you.

You were brought out of your musings when you felt the man in your lap stir and stretch enough to give you a deep kiss, which you reciprocated without opposition.

“You should get dressed.”

“Is it bothering you so far?”

“I'm serious,” you laughed, while you gently brushed a couple of hairs from his face “Someone might think badly of us if they find us like this.”

“For someone to think badly you should be naked too. Which I wouldn't object to, of course."

You shook your head, suppressing a smile, and then maneuvered yourself to your feet, pretending that with that Aegon would do what you were asking. However, when you tried to walk away he reached out to grab your hand, reluctant to let you go.

"How long you'll be here?"

"In your bedroom?"

“In King's Landing”

“A couple of days, maybe. I guess until the issue with Drifmark's inheritance is resolved."

“Good,” he whispered, as if assessing the situation. You wanted to free yourself from his grip but he didn't let you “Are you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“From King's Landing?”

“From my room,” he replied seriously, making you smile.

“I'm not leaving yet, Aegon. I'm just turning around so you can get dressed."

“I don’t mind you looking,” he said cheekily, but you had already turned your back on him. You heard movement behind you and assumed he had started to put on some clothes “Don’t you want to look even a little bit?”

“Just hurry up, your grace”

Upon hearing your complaint he laughed and then you felt a loud kiss on your cheek that had every intention of making you turn around, to which you didn’t succumb.

“There will be a dinner or something like that with the whole family.”

“Huh, yeah?”

“Well, that's what I heard. After dinner, can we meet?”

“Won't we have problems?”

“You don't like problems?” he said in a mocking tone.

You felt his hands put on your waist, from behind, and you prayed that when you turned around he wasn't still naked. It wasn't like that, he was only wearing a linen shirt, pants and was barefoot, but at least it was something.

“Not when they grow up in this family. Any family fight becomes a thousand times worse if it involves dragons.”

"I'm sorry for you. Mine are bigger than yours.”

“We're still talking about dragons, right?”

Aegon bit his lip to contain a grin from ear to ear and then he held you close to his body, ready to kiss you again. You just let him do it.

Dinner was a complete disaster.

You were already in your room, furiously packing all your belongings into a trunk, when you heard the sound of the door opening. You looked up from your task believing that by doing so you would meet Rhaenyra or maybe even one of your sisters, however, you were surprised to see a head of silver hair appear that was not theirs.

“You are very bold to come here after that.”

"After what?"

“You and your brother beating mine”

“They started”

“Aemond did it”

Aegon didn't think you were going to get that upset about the dinner incident, after all he still thought it was petty stuff. But the message had been clear and forceful, at least for you: you were considered bastards and, therefore, unworthy of any merit within King's Landing.

“You're exaggerating, it's just that… you know that Aemond gets carried away by his impulses.”

“And you agree with him?” you asked, angry when the white-haired boy tried to reach out to take your hand.

The boy looked at your things and then at you. He had heard your mother saying that the whole family would return to Dragonstone that same night because apparently, after what had happened, you no longer wanted to spend any more time in the Red Keep.

“He's my brother, I had to defend him…”

"I'm not talking about that. Do you think I’m not a Targaryen?” You interrupted him, stopping from the violent pace with which you were putting away your clothes so you could look him in the eyes. “Calling us bastards is already a betrayal, Aegon. Your family has to be very careful with what they say because very soon the one they offend is the one who will be on the iron throne.”

“Do you think they will allow that?” He said, showing the same seriousness that you had shown him. “I am my father's firstborn.”

“And what are you implying?” you took a step forward and he held your gaze. “Do you wish to usurp the throne that by right and by choice of the king belongs to my mother?”

“I don't want it. But many people do it. All my life my mother has told me that yours will kill me if she comes to power, because I am a threat to her reign.”

“My mother wouldn't do such a thing.”

“Not even under your father's advice?”

Daemon wasn't your father, but you understood what he meant. If your head already hurt after the fight, now you could feel it throbbing from your temples to the back of your neck.

“Is this a confession, Aegon? Are you telling me that as soon as Viserys dies you will fight for the throne?”

“My grandfather will do it. And my mother and Aemond and all those lords on the council will do it too. I hear them whispering everywhere. Viserys is about to die and they will fight to name me king.”

“You know you're taking a big risk by coming and telling me that, don't you?”

“I'm not taking the risk because you're not going to tell anyone.”

For a second, you froze. If anyone asked you, you were sure that Aegon would never be able to hurt you, much less kill you, but a lot could have changed in six years. You took a step back to search through your trunk for the sword that your grandmother Rhaenys had given you and he seemed to guess your intentions.

“Don't do something stupid,” he continued, cautiously. “I've come to make you a proposal.”

“The proposals were made a long time ago and your family declined.”

“Not one of that kind. I want you to run away with me.”

An incredulous laugh escaped your lips, thinking about how your uncle could joke at a time like this. You had to warn your mother, beg her to stay in King's Landing until your grandfather died so that no one could usurp what belonged to her.

“Leave my room, please.”

“I'm serious,” he exclaimed sternly. Almost carefully, he approached you and tried to take both of your hands but you refused, afraid that it was a trap. “Without me, no one here could deny your mother's claim. Not even Aemond, because he is not the firstborn male”

“And you seriously plan to run away?”

"I do. I am tired of all this and it is the only alternative that would solve the situation. That's why you have to come with me.”

“How do I know you're not tricking me into abandoning me far away and leaving my mother without her heir? Or worse yet, that you will keep me hostage for the interests of your family.”

“Our family, my niece,” he corrected you. “Do you remember that we are all part of the same family?”

“Your brother seems to forget often. And you too"

It was incredible how that morning you had been so affectionate and now that night had fallen you were arguing so heatedly. But there came a point where the offenses were intolerable, even with the affection you felt for the dragon.

“I have never hurt you. I have harmed everyone in this family physically or morally, but never you and you know it perfectly” he insisted on wanting to hold you and ended up managing to take only one of your hands “I am willing to leave to clear the way for Rhaenyra but I want you to come with me”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I will stay. And her inheritance will be at risk”

"Are you threatening me?"

“I'm offering you a chance,” he continued. Apparently he wasn't going to give up on it so easily “I've thought about it for a long time now. My father will be lucky if he makes it to next week alive, time is ticking and when you least expect it a war for power will break out. I'm just saving us a couple of steps.”

“Do you really think I will abandon my mother?”

“Under the promise that she won’t have any obstacles on her direct path to the throne? Yes, I thought you were sensible enough to see the enormous advantage that our absence would represent”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at him seriously and in disbelief at the decision in his words. Was Aegon really convinced to do all that? Was he proposing that you guys run away?

“And what about Helaena? And your children?"

“They will be fine. I'm not a good father, they won't miss me."

“Aegon this is… it is simply foolish. It's crazy."

“And we have to make a decision now. Your family is waiting for you to leave, time is of the essence”

You stayed quiet, your hand still being held by his. So much had happened that day that you felt like you couldn't take it anymore and now he had snuck into your room to tell you all that. You weren't stupid at all, you knew that your grandfather could die that very night and that the man in front of you was having a train of reasonable thoughts for probably the first time in his life.

“And why don't you just leave? You don't want to govern, uncle. We both know it, you just... go away and that's it."

“I don't want to go alone. I need a company and I want it to be you.”

"And why me?"

“Because I know you're the only one who would be willing to do it. For your mother's sake”

“So it's blackmail”

“Not blackmail. It's a fair exchange.”

You didn't realize when you started crying. And Aegon, as a sign of goodwill, came to kiss your cheeks to erase those tears.

“Say yes,” he continued. “I have it all planned. There is a ship to Essos leaving tonight, we will go on it and no one will ever hear from us again. There it doesn't matter if you're royalty or not, no one will recognize us."

“And our dragons?”

“We don't need dragons there.”

“And what are we to live on, Aegon?”

“We will live on anything. I have a trunk full of gold ready to be loaded on that ship, it will serve us for a few months and if we know how to manage it perhaps for a little longer”

It seems he had thought this through quite well and you wondered if you had always been part of the plan or if it was something that had arisen as a result of your visit.

"I can’t do this”

"Of course you can. Don't think about it too much, just... say yes and that's it."

“And how am I going to leave her? What kind of ungrateful will I be?”

“She left my father's side to live with Daemon, her uncle. And that has never bothered your conscience, has it?” he carefully approached you until he kissed you, hoping that maybe that would soften you enough for you to accept “I know you don't want this either. I know you don't want to govern, I can see the fear in your eyes every time the topic comes up because it is the same fear I see in mine."

“You can't know that”

“I'm an idiot most of the time, I'm not going to deny that to you. But I know we will never have an opportunity like this again. Please come with me”

That was a plea. Aegon was imploring you to join him in this madness and he required an immediate response. All kinds of thoughts crossed your mind at that moment and with all of them you needed to take time to decide. But you had also heard the man's words clearly and you didn’t doubt that Otto Hightower's ambition was such as to manage to steal from Rhaenyra what Viserys had given her.

Going with him would be impulsive, stupid, and anything but sensible as Aegon insisted it would be. You would completely break Rhaenyra's heart. You, her only daughter, abandoning her to seek better fortune in Essos.

Decisions, decisions... they were always the most difficult and cruel part for The house or the dragon.

“And how did you plan to escape just today? It’s improbably convenient, don’t you think?”

"I didn’t know. I was ready to flee the day it was necessary, but I think today is the best opportunity. You're here so our parents won't think I'm kidnapping you or something like that."

“They'll think about it anyway.”

“Leave a letter,” he suggested, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss the back “Explain to Rhaenyra that you're okay.”

“Aegon, I'm not going with you.”

"Why not?" he insisted, his voice already breaking. He raised both hands to your cheeks to force you to look at him “I'm asking you, please.”

"No…"

“Let's leave here and we will never know anything about royalty again in our lives”

“There will always be someone who questions a woman's authority.”

“But it won't be because of me and you won't be here to see it.”

“I don't want to leave my mother!”

Aegon sighed, completely exasperated, and his eyes unintentionally glazed over as well.

“Listen, if you had asked me at that time, I would have said yes to marrying you. I don't love Helaena, I want you. Come with me and let's leave all this for peace, we simply… we have to start again” with a delicacy that you never thought he was capable of, he leaned in to kiss you. Once, twice, three times…

"I can’t"

"Yes, you can. You don't want to, it's different."

You looked up, still too close to him, and a sob escaped your chest.

“It's just that I... Aegon, don't do this to me.”

“I will treat you like a queen. You will be my queen forever, you just have to come with me.”

You couldn't bear to look at his pleading eyes. You asked yourself: Should you follow your mind or your heart?

The sound of the door opening forced you to jump away and you pushed Aegon behind some curtains, afraid that someone would discover you.

"Mother"

“Are you ready, my girl?” he asked at first. When she noticed your eyes, her brow furrowed “Are you crying?”

“No, no… it's nothing.”

“Ow, love. What's the matter?" carefully she approached you and took your hands in hers. You felt like you were going to break right there “I know you don't want to leave”

“Leave?”

“Back to Dragonstone, of course. I know you like the warm weather of King's Landing better.”

"Oh yeah. That"

You were silent for a moment and then you approached her and hugged her. She wasn’t surprised, as it was common, but she was moved.

“What's wrong with you, huh?”

“Mom, have you ever thought about what would happen if I didn't want to be your heir?”

Rhaenyra froze. All her childhood and adolescence the only thing she had wanted was to be good enough for Viserys and that meant being named the heir to the throne. However, she assumed that you would have the same aspirations and that is why she wanted to demonstrate from the beginning that a first-born daughter had the same value as a first-born son. The mere thought of having hurt you with that decision immediately distressed her.

"What are you talking about?" she was quick to say, pulling you out of your hiding place to look at you.

“I don't know if I'm ready. I'm afraid I won't do it well."

“Oh, it's not about that, honey. You will do excellent, I don't doubt it for a second. I will advise you all the way until the time comes.”

“What if I don't want to do it?” You insisted. Rhaenyra felt her heart hurt a little and tried to hold back her tears. “It's too much pressure, mom. And I don't want you to be angry with me and I don't want you to hate me because I know you've done too much for us..."

“No, I would never be angry with you. Don't even think that, no,” she murmured gently, brushing your hair. “Are you sure you don't want it?”

"I don’t know yet. But I believe yes"

“Okay, okay,” the blonde responded, trying to process the fact that her most beloved daughter didn’t wish to continue the legacy she was forging. But she couldn't do anything, after all “We'll talk about this when we get home, okay? There is still… there is still Dragonstone as an inheritance if you are sure about this. And Jacaerys could take your place. But we have to think very carefully, sweetheart. This shouldn’t be decided right now.”

“You know I would never do anything to harm you, right, mother?”

"I know"

“And I thank you for everything you have given me and done for me.”

“Of course I know, my girl,” she said, smiling at you as gently as possible. “Thank you for telling me, you… you don't disappoint me at all, okay? Don't be afraid” she lovingly leaned down and kissed your forehead, as she had done all her life “Hurry up to leave. We will wait for you in the dragon pit.”

“It's okay, mommy,” you responded, your voice breaking. The woman was about to leave when you spoke again “Avy jorrāelan”

She watched you, from the door, and smiled.

“Issa tolī”

You waited patiently for her to leave, waiting a few extra seconds as a precaution. You then went to where Aegon was only to find him with tears running down his eyes, because while he was listening to the exchange he wondered why Alicent had never treated him that way. The boy thought you were going to throw him out of there and he was surprised when you pulled him by the collar to kiss him.

“If I go with you, you must keep all the promises you just made to me, do you understand?”

“Are you… are you saying you will?”

“Will you keep those promises?” you asked seriously and Aegon nodded frantically. You then shared another passionate kiss.

“Let's go then.”

You took just a couple of personal items to put them in a bag and Aegon suggested you wear a masculine outfit, which you ran to get to his room along with his own belongings.

“How do I know this isn't all a trap?”

“It’s not,” he assured you. He was so eager for you to trust him that he took out the sheath that held your sword and handed it to you “You can kill me if that's the case. But is not"

“I almost forgot it. Thank you"

“Take this,” he added, putting a cloak that was too long on your shoulders. It was probably from Aemond “I know how to get out without being seen, there is a passage.”

Still afraid of what might happen you let him take your hand and you nodded, letting him guide you to said place. You didn't want to imagine Rhaenyra's face when she entered your room to discover your dress placed neatly on the bed, with the jewelry she had given you and a sealed letter on it. You didn't let go of your companion's hand the entire way and once outside you practically ran to the port where the transport that would take you to the other continent was.

Aegon couldn't be happier to have gotten his little princess to accompany him on the crazy plan and he was sure that all things would work out in your favor. Completely devastated, you watched as the vision of King's Landing receded as the ship moved forward, leaving every glimpse of your life you could have.

“We did the right thing,” he assured you, noticing your melancholy and carefully holding your cheeks to kiss you “We will be very happy, I promise.”

You just hoped so. May the seven accompany your path and protect the future queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Viserys died that night. The Dance of the Dragons never happened because of the decision the pair of heirs made in an instant.

Entire years of war, were avoided only by taking a ship to Pentos.

Avy jorrāelan: te amo

Issa tolī: yo también

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x fem!reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen

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drgnmnts · 2 months

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knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 3 - Dragonstone

Word count: 3k

When Daenys opened her eyes again, she found herself back in bed. From the light beginning to filter through the window, she assumed it was already dawn. Glancing around the room, she noticed her mother sitting beside her, eyes fixed on Daenys’ hand as it rested on hers. Ser Criston stood guard by the door and was the first to notice she had awakened.

“There she is, Your Grace,” he notified Alicent. The queen looked up immediately, relief washing over her features.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” she whispered, placing her palm on her daughter’s forehead to check for a temperature. Daenys watched her, feeling a bit confused.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You fainted. From the anguish, the maester said,” Alicent informed, her lips a tight line.

“A dragonrider since you were nine, and I have to be scooping you off the floor like a damsel in distress,” quipped Ser Criston, making Daenys chuckle. The queen didn’t react.

The memory of the previous hours made Daenys’ smile fade. She couldn’t remember much, but the important bits were impossible to gloss over: Aemond had lost an eye at the hands of Lucerys Velaryon, whose brother was now her betrothed. A tight knot in her throat made her believe she might choke, but Daenys was able to speak anyway.

“What Father and Grandsire said. Do I really have to…?”

“Yes, sweetling,” Alicent confirmed, eyes full of sorrow.

At her mother’s answer, tears welled up in Daenys’ eyes, and when she spoke again she sounded half her age. “But I don’t want to.”

Alicent didn’t respond. Instead, she just held her daughter’s hand again, unable to meet her gaze.

“Is it— is it something I’ve done, is that it? Is Father cross with me?” Daenys asked, anxiety starting to bubble up in her chest again.

“Your father isn’t punishing you, Daenys…” Alicent assured, visibly tired. She had probably spent the whole night without any sleep.

“Then isn’t there anything you can do?” Daenys questioned, her voice high-pitched as she tried to speak between whimpers. “I know I misbehave sometimes, but I can change, Mother. I— I’ll marry Aemond, no one will want him without the eye but I would, I can be a good wife. And I’ll ride Silverwing less if you want, and I’ll study more. I’ll be good, I— I can be good.”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She felt powerless, unable to calm her daughter since there truly was nothing she could do to change Daenys’ destiny. She recalled feeling equally vulnerable many years ago, in her youth, as her father commanded her to marry the king, to give him children, only to terrorize her with their impending deaths right before leaving her alone in a place where she did not have any friends; not anymore, at least.

Everywhere in the world they hurt little girls.

The queen rubbed her forehead, perhaps in an attempt to appease a migraine that was beginning to spread. When she looked up again, her eyes showed no sign of tenderness, only determination. As she spoke, Otto Hightower’s words came out of her mouth.

“I suppose you’re old enough to learn about sacrifice, what it really means; sometimes we must do things we dislike, especially women in our position. Do you think your sister wants to marry Aegon? Do you think I—” she cut herself, but Daenys knew exactly what she had meant to say. “When Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne, your brother Aegon’s very existence will be a challenge to her position. This means he could be put to the sword, as could Aemond,” she explained. Daenys had to make an effort to hold in a sob. “This betrothal… It may not seem like it now, but in the future, when you’re older, it could mean the difference between life and death for this family. When a man loves his wife, he… he would be willing to spare his enemies if it saves her from heartbreak. Jacaerys is young now, but he won’t stay a boy forever, and neither will you.” Alicent put a hand on her daughter’s cheek, but this time it didn’t comfort Daenys. Instead, she felt even more entrapped by her family’s scheming. “If you do your duty well, if you manage to make him love you, then… no one would have to die.”

Responsibility fell on Daenys like a stone.

In her younger years, she had never even imagined herself marrying someone that wasn’t Aemond. As the king’s third daughter, not much was expected of her in terms of alliances with other Great Houses, as she offered little value in that regard. Now, however, it seemed that she had become her family’s strongest asset to secure peace between the two factions beginning to form.

“I don’t want Aegon to die,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I know, my love,” Alicent replied with a sad smile that reflected the look in her eyes.

Daenys swallowed. “You say I must make him love me, but… what if I never love him?”

The queen took a deep breath as she raised from the chair. Bending over her daughter’s body, she kissed the girl’s forehead.

“Then you will love the children he gives you, and that shall be enough.”

______________________________________________

Watching her family sail away across the bay caused Daenys a kind of pain she had never experienced before. After trying to keep a stiff lip as she said goodbye to her siblings and other members of the royal court, it was in the solitude of the lookout that she finally allowed herself to cry for her family. At the foot of the crag, Silverwing wailed as she watched the other dragons return home.

“I figured I would find you here.”

Daenys tensed immediately, not needing to turn around. She knew who it was.

“You were very brave, you know?” Rhaenyra said, finding a place next to her sister but keeping her distance. “Goodbyes are always painful.”

Daenys couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to Rhaenyra. Their relationship had always been strained, despite living in the same castle. Whenever Daenys showed any interest in getting close to her half-sister, her mother was quick to nip it in the bud. Over time, this led to Daenys feeling nervous whenever she found herself in Rhaenyra's presence, as if something horrible might happen as a result of a simple conversation.

“Will I be allowed to ride my dragon?” the girl asked, eyes still fixed on the ship as it got further and further.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I might try to escape,” she replied simply. A small smile tugged at Rhaenyra’s lips, but Daenys didn’t see it.

“You’re not a prisoner, Daenys. You can visit your family as much as you’d like,” the woman explained.

This new information perked Daenys’ interest, her eyes finally meeting Rhaenyra’s.

“Then why must I go with you now? Why can’t I stay with my family until it’s time?” she asked, and it angered her that she could already feel her eyes welling up with tears again.

Rhaenyra breathed through her nose, trying to find the right words.

“I suggested to Father that it would be better for the two of you to become friends before you are to wed. I wouldn’t want my son to marry a stranger.”

Daenys’ gaze turned back to the horizon; she couldn’t see the ship anymore. The girl held back her tears.

As she bitterly accepted the fact that her family was truly gone, Alicent’s words resonated in her head: This betrothal could mean the difference between life and death for this family. When she looked back up at Rhaenyra, she wondered if the woman in front of her would be capable of putting her brothers to the sword. The kindness in her eyes made it difficult to fathom, leaving Daenys to ponder whether it was truthful, or just an act.

“I’m upset about Luke hurting Aemond. It was a horrible thing to do,” Daenys blurted out after a moment of silence.

Rhaenyra cast her gaze downward, as if ashamed.

“I know. It was… a confrontation that should have never happened. Both parties made mistakes last night,” she said. It bothered Daenys that Rhaenyra would compare a paternity rumor with losing an eye, but she understood what it would mean for her claim if the realm knew her sons were no true Velaryons. “But you need to make an effort and leave it in the past, or else you’ll spend the rest of your life reliving what happened.”

This betrothal could mean the difference between life and death for this family.

Daenys nodded. “I will try.”

Rhaenyra smiled sadly at her sister, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, her thumb rubbing softly at it.

“This time together will help both of you, you’ll see,” she assured. “It is a great opportunity to get to know each other. You might find you have more in common than you think.”

“Doesn’t he hate me?” Daenys asked. “I haven’t always been kind.”

Rhaenyra smiled at the girl’s question. She knew something Daenys didn’t.

“He doesn’t,” she simply replied.

_______________________________________________

Days turned into weeks after their arrival at Dragonstone—a place Daenys had visited hundreds of times on dragonback, but never with the intention of staying. She was given her own room, near Rhaena’s, as it had been decided that Baela would stay at Driftmark after the tragic death of Ser Laenor, the last living child of Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys.

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding had been a strange affair. The speed with which it had taken place, only a day after Laenor’s death, left Daenys with a feeling of uneasiness, wondering how it was possible to move on so quickly from such a tragedy.

Despite her initial efforts to please and fit in, she found it increasingly difficult to adapt to her new life. Each morning presented a bigger challenge than the last, until Daenys reached the point where she couldn't even leave her bed, sometimes for the entire day. She had completely lost her appetite, and once overheard the maester telling Rhaenyra that she might get sick if she continued this way. She had promised her half-sister that she wasn’t doing it on purpose and that tomorrow she would try again, but every time tomorrow came, Daenys was unable to keep her promise.

At night, she dreamed of her mother’s hands stroking her hair, of Helaena’s warmth next to her when they shared the bed during cold nights, Aemond’s stories that he seemed to never run out of, and even Aegon’s unfunny jokes that always made her roll her eyes.

That night, however, something was stopping Daenys from finding sleep: she could hear Silverwing’s song, calling for her rider to fly with her again. The girl hadn’t visited her dragon in weeks, something unprecedented since they had bonded two years before, which contributed to her feeling guilty and miserable in equal measure.

Unwilling to continue tossing and turning, she decided to finally leave her bed in search of a solution, hoping that the cover of night would spare her from encountering anyone.

The corridors of the Dragonstone castle were dark and sinuous like a dragon’s throat, and the lack of windows in the impenetrable fort made Daenys feel like she was being swallowed as she made her way downstairs to the kitchens. There, she found two kitchen maids: one old and gray, the other younger, with a pointy nose and wondering eyes that pierced hers as soon as she crossed the threshold. Daenys froze like a deer sensing a predator.

“I… Can I have some warm milk? I can’t find sleep,” she requested.

“Of course, Princess, but you shouldn’t come down here; it’s not a place for a girl of your station,” the younger one said, as the older woman poured milk into a pot over the hearth.

“It’s no bother,” she began to say, but was quickly cut off by the older woman.

“We must insist, Your Grace,” she said. “If Princess Rhaenyra finds out you’ve been here…”

“She won’t find out, because I will say nothing of it, and I would assume neither will you,” Daenys stated, the dim light in the room helping hide the pink of her cheeks for speaking so boldly. Taking a step forward, she propped herself on a wooden stool, her girlish legs dangling back and forth.

After sharing a look, the women provided what Daenys had requested: a glass of warm milk with honey that would put her to sleep right away. They watched her as she drank, perhaps wary of the young princess not liking the beverage, and smiled with relief when she thanked them for it.

She was making her way back to her chambers, already drowsy as the warmth of the milk soothed the tightness of her chest, when she heard voices coming from what she knew were Jacaerys’ quarters. The door was ajar and, as she got closer, curiosity getting the best of her, she identified the second voice as Rhaenyra’s.

“—I just thought it would be different,” Jace was saying, distress tinting his voice.

“I know, my love. I did warn you not to get your hopes up too high, imagine how you would feel if this had happened the other way around. I am sure you would also feel quite miserable in King’s Landing without your brothers, or without me.”

Afer a moment of silence in which Daenys feared she had been caught, Jace asked, “Do you think she’ll ever stop hating me?”

“I don’t think she hates you, Jace. She’s just scared, and sad, and confused… but hate is too big of a word.”

“But you heard what Maester Gerardys said. If she continues like this, she might die. And it would be my fault,” he stated. He sounded on the verge of tears, and guilt settled on Daenys like a kick in the gut.

“He did not say such a thing, dear, you’re exaggerating,” his mother refuted, trying to calm him. “What the maester said was that she might get sick, which is true, but I would never allow the situation to get to that point. If she cannot find the strength to get better, I will send her back to King’s Landing.”

Daenys’ heartbeat quickened when she heard that, but Jace’s words didn’t even let a smile form on her face.

“You cannot,” he blurted out immediately. “Please, Mother, you promised. You’ve seen the way they treat her. They either ignore her, or punish her for every single thing her siblings do.”

“I know, my love, but it is not your duty to save her. Not for now, at least…”, the woman said. “Daenys is a tough girl, Jace.”

“But she doesn’t need to be tough here. No one would mistreat her if she would only— if she would only let us—”

“I know, sweet boy,” said Rhaenyra.

Daenys felt a strange surge of defensiveness at the mention of her family, but a little voice inside her head—her rational side, perhaps—told her that, deep down, she knew Jace was right. Despite how hard she tried to make it seem like she did not care when her family mistreated her, she did. She cared deeply and suffered for it, and the fact that Jace seemed so genuinely upset about it was as confusing as it was endearing.

When Jace spoke again, his voice sounded muffled, as if he was now in his mother’s arms. Daenys wondered what it would feel like to be hugged by Rhaenyra.

“She said sorry for Ser Harwin. At Lady Laena’s funeral.”

A beat.

“That was a very kind thing to do,” Rhaenyra said. “She wouldn’t have said it if she hated you, would she?”

“No,” Jace said. “I suppose not.”

_______________________________________________

Daenys saw genuine delight spread all over her handmaiden’s features when she came into her chamber the next morning to find her already up and ready for a much needed bath.

When she entered the dining hall everyone was already there, ready to break their fast. Her cheeks lit up in shades of pink as they welcomed her, the sincerity in their cheerful comments warming Daenys’ heart.

“What an honor it is that you’ve finally deemed us worthy of your company, Princess,” said Daemon, kindly pulling Daenys’ chair for her to sit on. Another might have found the comment as an ill willed one, but Daenys knew that was Daemon’s way of expressing affection while keeping his facade.

“Leave her be, husband,” warned Rhaenyra, her tone relaxed. With a kind smile, she put her hand on her half-sister’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetling.”

Jace smiled at her and, to her own surprise, Daenys smiled back.

The breakfast went by smoothly, and Daenys ate her weight in duck eggs, blood pudding, bread with butter and honey, and the most delicious blackberry cakes she had ever tasted. She even licked her fingers when she finished, and the sight made Luke laugh so hard that the milk he was drinking came out of his nose.

After they all had finished, Daenys excused herself from the table.

“I would like to ride my dragon, if you don’t mind, Princess,” she told Rhaenyra. “I will stay close. Won’t fly further than Massey’s Hook, I promise.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “You don’t need my permission, sweetling.”

Gathering all the bravery she thought she possessed, Daenys asked for something else.

“Can Jace come?”

Rhaenyra raised her brows slightly, clearly surprised at the girl’s sudden change of attitude.

“Mother doesn’t let me ride Vermax that far…” said Jace, embarrassment turning his cheeks a bright red.

After a glance at Daemon, Rhaenyra breathed through her nose.

“Well, perhaps an exception can be made on a day such as today,” she said.

Jace’s face brightened up immediately, and he shot up from his chair to join Daenys. Luke protested as the pair left the hall, whining as he demanded the same exception be made with him as well, but Rhaena managed to convince him that archery training was equally as exciting.

As she watched the children go, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief.

_______________________________________________

Across the bay, in a dimly lit room within the Red Keep, Princess Helaena muttered to herself.

“The tears of a dragon cannot extinguish the flame destined to set the world ablaze.”

_______________________________________________

Aaaaaand we've reached the end of childhood! The next chapter will take place after the 6-year time jump, aka, the kids will all be as old as they are right now in the show, more or less.

I hope this was a good enough introduction to the different dynamics between Daenys and the other characters!

If you liked this, let me know in any way! :)

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject, @hellish-idiot

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #knuckles bruised (like violets)

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sstan-hoe · 2 months

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◇ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 ◇

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — aemond targaryen × targaryen!fem!reader (rhaenyras daughter)

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — After the death of your grandsire, Viserys Targaryen, your relationship with Aemond was hanging on a thread. For you, he was a murderer. For him, you were a traitor.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — is it a warning when I say I didn't know what I was doing? well, aemond is a warning, swearing, and violence, it's hotd yall

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — this me letting my anger for aemond and daemon out, but I promise I will also show my love them - just not in this one (I'm also kinda making fun of aemond). I'm not completely happy, but when am I?

As night settled in the Keep it became quiet, only the sound of fire could be heard. You sat on his bed, like every other night, always the same. A book on your lap, at least you weren’t bored of them yet.

Oh, how you hated it here, missing the times were you loved it, enjoyed it. Being supposed to marry Aemond felt like a blessing, after all he was someone, you had known your whole life. You trusted him, started loving him and saw your future with him.

Add to that, you weren’t forced to marry him, your mother, the Queen had asked. Knowing there could be worse husbands, he was a good choice and a way to smooth the relationship between your families.

Everything was fine, a day was set, and preparations were made, until Viserys Targaryen died. The following morning, he had locked you in his chambers, because you would not declare for Aegon.

Nothing had been the same since, all you saw in him now was a murderer and with every passing second you hated him more.

As if on cue Aemond walked inside with Criston Cole on his trail. “Oh, my soon to be husband! I have missed you dearly, are you well? Tell me, did you do something exciting?” you asked, tone cheery as if you really cared.

“Spare me your false words of care Lady Strong,-“ “Velaryon,” you cut him off, facial expression changing into a glare. “No, Targaryen soon, is it not?” you changed your mind.

Of course, you would rather die than marry him now, however you found it quite amusing to correct him this way. The blonde shook his head, ignoring your words to sit down with the commander of the Kingsguard.

The guard looked at you with wary eyes, “what? Are you scared to insult my mother in front of me?” you shot at him, knowing every detail of his past – especially with Rhaenyra.

“Will you please take a bath darling?” Aemond questioned, annoyence evident in his voice. At that you scoffed, only when he wanted something he would use a pet name.

If he did not, then you were a bitch, Strong or traitor – whatever suited the moment. “If it pleases you my prince,” you snapped at him, although you would not be gone for long. There was not a chance you would let Cole speak bad about your mother.

---

“Rhaenyra is like a spider…,” Cole’s voice was faint, almost a whisper but you heard him. Catching Alicent in her web, how pathetic could someone be? Aside from Alicent’s lies and hypocrisy, Cole was just as bad.

Feeding Aemond all those lies, hiding his own history and thinking he wouldn’t be exposed. You could hardly contain your laughter.

Only wrapped in towel you entered the room again, both men looking at you. The princes eyes using all his power not to drop to your breasts.

“Ser Criston I think you should take your leave,” Aemond cleared his throat, in the years he had known you, it became clear to him what you were trying to do. Quickly Cole left, he knew where he was going.

“Could you please put on some clothes?” the blonde asked you, which you ignored and instead sat down oppisite of him. The towel slowly fell down, exposing a part of your breast.

“You know he’s lying right? My mother and Alicent were friends, best friends until she married my grandsire and then-,” “had bastards?” he cut in, not particular in the mood for this conversation. If the situation were different, maybe then he would listen to you, but it was not.

“He offered my mother his hand in marriage, wanted to sell oranges with her in Dorne. She rejected him and he is still not over it,” you continued as if he said nothing, you were not new to him calling you a bastard. At first it hurt but now you try to ignore it.

“Because your mother has never done anything wrong…,” he trailed off, he was tired of hearing you defend your mother. A part of him would do the same, still it drove him crazy.

Without thinking you took one of this little statues and threw it at him, “careful Aemond.” In the next moment Aemond was above you, caging you in between his arms and against the sofa. His quick movements caused you to flinch and the towel to fall down into your lap.

“I should be careful? You are here, held a prisoner…,” he told you, tone dangerously low. He knew it was hard to intimidate you but not impossible.

Although Aemond felt a heavy aversion towards you, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you in the same moment. How he missed your talks that could go on for hours, and after a day where he interacted too much with Aegon, you would help him relieve some stress or when you begged him to braid his hair.

“Your mother has put those dreadful thoughts in your head, Cole is speaking lies because he needs the attention, because he wants to be seen as the victim,” you snapped at him, lifting your head up to meet his eyes.

“Do not speak of my mother this way-,” “you mean the woman who speaks with two tongues?” you interrupted him, satisfaction coming over you when you saw realisation wash over his face. “Yes, I heard you.”

There were no words coming from Aemond, which did not surprise you. “Have I silenced you?” a smirk growing on your lips.

He scoffed, shaking his head and standing up to walk towards your shared bed. The prince stripped himself of most of his clothes, knowing you were watching. “Ah, are you trying to tempt me again? That is not how a prince should behave…,” you taunted him.

“Mhm, you did not seem to mind before” he questioned, taking off his eye patch. Even if the two of you started hating each other, he still felt comfortable enough to walk around without it.

“I see you have no arguments anymore…well, that is how it must be when you finally come to realise you are in the wrong,” you couldn’t help it, as much as you enjoyed his company, the way he took your mind of the war. You could not let it happen anymore, you felt like a traitor to the realm.

Aemond scoffed at that, he said no word and left the room. You were stubborn and every discussion he had with you ended the same.

“Yes, just leave like you love to do!” you shouted after him in anger and within a second your brain snapped. Just as Aemond walked through the door, a cup hit the wall next to him with full force.

“Hobrenkys mittys,” you muttered to yourself once Aemond was completely gone.

---

On the next morrow, Aemond was nowhere to be found – as almost every day. Now you would be alone, almost dying of boredom and no one was allowed to see you.

You often saw Helaena, she wanted to come to you but never dared to go against her brothers orders and the guards standing outside your door.

There was only one person who would break this rule, Aegon. He would come in, talk about the weirdest things and he did not care if you were listening, he also didn’t seem to mind that you would never accept him as king.

And just like that the doors flew open, revealing Aegon. “Good morrow dear niece,” he sounded energetic, full of motivation.

“Aegon, to what do I own this pleasure?” you asked him, laying back in bed. Already done with him, under different circumstances you might enjoy his company. However as of late he only stole your energy.

“Well, I actually am in search of my brother,” he revealed, causing you to roll your eyes, “and you truly thought you would find him here?” Aegon could not actually think this.

“It is his chamber, is it not?” he raised his eyebrows, spinning himself around. For him it was fun, to come in and point out the difficulties between Aemond and you – especially when he was drunk.

“Oh, how observant you are. What do you want?” you snapped at him, sitting up on the bed to watch him closely. The false king shrugged his shoulders, “you know I’m a good king.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his statement, “you are no good king.” At this he looked at you offended, not actually believing what you just said.

With a sigh you leaned back, “no one prepared you, grandsire always saw Rhaenyra on the throne, so what would you know about ruling? Your whole life you could do whatever you wanted, no one told you how it works, and you became a foolish imbecile.” You told him honestly, he needed someone who wouldn’t lie to him or manipulate him.

Aegon let the words sink in and he did not like them, he didn’t want to accept the truth. A side effect of manipulation – he could not truly think that he was fit to rule and the heir.

He huffed, “you’re just like him,” with that he left you alone again. Who he was comparing you to, you didn’t know but it might as well be Aemond, “just like his brother.” That was true, if Aemond was out of arguments he started talking nonsense or told you something he had already said.

As night fell in, your soon to be husband was not back yet which was not uncommon and still it felt like something was wrong, like something would happen. You had taken a bath, cleaned up his chambers, just to keep busy.

Laying there in bed felt horrible, like you were chained to it. If death was to take you, you would welcome it.

Suddenly the door opened, a strange man walked in with a cage in his hand. Once he saw you, he was confused, “m’lady please excuse me however I’m here to catch the rats,” he told you.

And you recognised him, he was no rat catcher, no he was a gold cloak. Why were there no guards around? Why did no one stop him?

“What do you want?” you asked him, maybe you were too bold but with Daemon as a father figure, there was nothing else to be expected. The man did not seem to know who you were.

Then another one came in looking more scared. “Is he here- ah, princess we are sorry. We did not mean to disturb you,” he bowed in front of you.

His actions made the gold cloak realise who he was talking to, who Daemon mentioned. The traitorous daughter of Queen Rhaenyra. Without much thought he grabbed you by your throat causing you to gasp in surprise.

“Where is your cunt of a husband?” he growled while pulling you closer, holding a knife to your throat. When you didn’t immediately answer he gripped your hair tightly, fear over came you as you felt the cold metal on your skin.

“I don’t know!” you cried, wishing Aemond would step inside right this moment. However, your wish was not granted, instead you were thrown to the ground with full force.

“Personally, I think you are lying, after all you are his bride or is whore a better fit?” he gave you a dirty smirk before striking you with the back of his hand.

Knowing it would be a mistake you glared at him, “shut your fucking mouth. I don’t know where he is nor do I care,” you spit at him. If there was one thing you learned, it was to never back down and right now death seemed like a blessing.

“You truly are a bitch,” he nodded and kicked you in the stomache, making you groan in pain. Tears streamed down your cheeks, why was there no guard around? Why did no one stand in front of this room?

“He sends his regards,” was the only thing the gold cloak muttered before leaving with the rat catcher close behind him.

Leaving you there, on the floor and fighting to stay conscious but closing your eyes felt too good.

---

As Aemond came back to the Keep everyone was running around, they were scarred. He looked around, seemingly the only person who was calm. Taking long strides the prince walked to their royal quarters.

There he found maids cleaning, double the amount of guards and a maester coming out of…his chambers? He came inside, the first he saw was you, on his bed with an empty gaze.

Said maester had given you tea, wrapped bandages around you throat, stomach and head. Every movement you made hurt more than the last.

“Darling,” he whispered, coming to kneel in front of you, slowly you lifted your head to meet his eye, “where were you?” you asked, voice hoarse.

No tone came from his lips, he couldn’t tell you where he had actually been. “Where have you been?” you asked again with more pressure. Getting no answer once more and it made you mad.

“Aemond where the fuck were you when I was being threatened, when I had to be scared for my life?” you snapped at him, heart breaking when you saw how his expression changed.

“They wanted you, they think I’m a traitor because of you. All the pain I had to endure because of you!” now you started screaming at him, he deserved it. “Jaehaerys is dead because of you. Not only do you kill my brother but also your own nephew.”

Then it dawned on Aemond, Daemon had sent them to take care of him. The Rogue Prince saw him as a challenge.

“Seven hells, you are not even listening to me. You are supposed to protect me and not be gone the whole day! I mean what was so important? Did- did you find some whore to-,” as you said the last sentence you noticed how he looked down for a second.

“You were with one,” you stated, scoffing to yourself and standing up, “just like Aegon, true brothers you are,” this couldn’t be happening. If he at least was better at being decent, as if being gone every night wasn’t suspicious.

“Do not compare me to that imbecile. They are terrified of me, no one is scared of Aegon,” Aemond argued, taking a step towards you, “Daemon sees me as a challenge, big enough to kill me in my sleep,” he was very convinced of himself.

You looked at him in disbelief, he could not truly believe your stepfather was scared of him. “How delusional can one be? A son for a son, you killed Luke, so they kill you. It is called revenge and because they were not able to find you, they chose Aegon’s heir,” you laughed at him, they way actually thought this was about him being a threat.

Yes, Daemon thought you were a traitor however he had always been a special person, so you did not think much of it. If he wanted to believe it, then he shall.

The moment you were able to get out of here and speak with your mother, everything would clear up. You also hoped Rhaenyra would allow you to burn Daemon for the torture he put you through.

“Do not laugh at me, if he wanted revenge then he would have done it himself,” was he trying to convince you or himself? Probably himself.

“Shall he burn the Keep with Caraxes? Daemon is a lot but not stupid, unlike you,” shaking your head, you sat down of the sofa, standing was too exhausting. In the past you thought there could never be a moment where you hated it here more but now you realised there was.

“Aemond you are weak, the only thing that makes you dangerous is Vaghar and if she is not by your side? Then you are nothing,” those words made something twitch in him.

The next moment he had you pressed against the cushions with his hands around your throat. “Am I still weak?”

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novaursa · 14 days

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The Dragon's Right (6)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all the parts of this story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 5

- Next part: 7

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The hour was late, the Red Keep quiet as the court had retired for the night. You sat awake in your chambers, the faint light of a candle flickering beside you. The endless routine of court life had left you restless, your mind too heavy with thoughts to find sleep. You had become accustomed to the dull rhythm of politics and responsibility since your return to King’s Landing, but the weight of it all still gnawed at you.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the weariness that had settled deep in your bones. Just as you considered whether to rise and take another walk around the room, the door to your chambers creaked open without warning or announcement.

Expecting your uncle Daemon, as was often the case, you sighed inwardly, preparing yourself for another round of complaints about Otto Hightower’s growing influence or another suggestion to join him in the lower city for some ill-advised adventure. But when you turned, you were surprised to see Rhaenyra standing in the doorway instead.

Her presence filled the room instantly, her usual quiet grace now tinged with something more urgent. Her violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in her gaze that was both familiar and unsettling, a mixture of affection and determination.

"I needed to see you once more today," she said softly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room.

You frowned slightly, worried by the intensity in her voice. "Rhaenyra, it’s late. If someone sees you—"

She shook her head, cutting you off as she approached. "I don’t care," she replied, her voice firm. "I spoke with Alicent."

At the mention of her friend, your frown deepened. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her to stay away from you," Rhaenyra said bluntly, her tone laced with a mixture of frustration and jealousy.You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "Rhaenyra… you and Alicent are close. You shouldn’t—"

"I know," she interrupted, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "But I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way she tries to get close to you, the way she looks at you... It drives me mad."

Her confession hit you like a blow, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, the battle between her loyalty to her friend and the possessive jealousy she couldn’t suppress. You stood, taking a step toward her, unsure of how to navigate the storm of emotions that now swirled between you.

"Rhaenyra," you began carefully, "I don’t want you getting into trouble because of this. Whatever the situation is between us, it doesn’t need to affect your friendship with Alicent."

She crossed the distance between you, her eyes never leaving yours. "I thought about it all day," she whispered, her voice softer now. "About what we talked about earlier. About us."

Your breath caught in your throat as she stepped closer, her presence overwhelming your senses. "I thought about it too," you admitted, your voice low. "But we have to be careful."

"Do we?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone challenging. "We’re Targaryens. It’s in our blood. Why should we deny what we feel?"

Before you could answer, she closed the final gap between you and, without hesitation, climbed into your lap. Her fingers brushed lightly against your neck as she leaned in, her lips finding yours with a fierce determination that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as you gave in to the emotions you had been trying to suppress. Your hands instinctively moved to her hips, holding her in place as she pressed herself against you. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, the feel of her lips—it was intoxicating, and before you knew it, you were trailing your hands up her back, pulling her closer still.

Her lips parted under yours, and the kiss became something more—more urgent, more desperate, as if the floodgates you had feared had finally broken open. Every touch, every movement was an exploration of the complex feelings that had been building between you both for so long. You could feel her fingers tangling in your hair, her breath quickening as the kiss deepened further.

The world outside disappeared as you lost yourself in her—your sister, your blood, your equal. The lines between love, desire, and duty blurred until they were indistinguishable, leaving only the two of you, caught in a moment that felt inevitable.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless, your foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath. Rhaenyra’s fingers traced along your jaw, her touch gentle yet possessive. There was a softness in her eyes now, an affection that spoke of something deeper than mere attraction.

"How can we stop this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your thoughts, but when you opened them again, all you could see was her—Rhaenyra, your sister, your equal, the one person who understood you in ways no one else ever could. You reached up, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, your thumb grazing her cheek.

"I don’t know if we can," you admitted softly, your voice filled with the weight of your confession. "But we have to be careful. Father would never allow it. The court, the Faith… they would try to tear us apart."

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened with defiance as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "Then let them try."

The fire in her words ignited something in you, something that had been smoldering for so long but now burned brightly. You kissed her again, softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

When you pulled away, you smiled down at her, your fingers tracing along her arm. "You’re dangerous, Rhaenyra."

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and affection. "I learned from the best."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "We need to be smart about this."

"I know," she whispered, her tone more serious now. "But I can’t help what I feel. And neither can you."

You held her gaze, the weight of the truth settling between you. There was no going back now. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was the ire of the court, the disapproval of your father, or the dangers that came with your newfound connection—you both knew that this was a path you had chosen.

The atmosphere in the small council chamber was tense the next morning. King Viserys sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought as his advisors gathered to discuss the ongoing matters of the realm. Corlys Velaryon, ever the advocate for action in the Stepstones, was the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the room.

“The situation in the Stepstones cannot be ignored any longer, Your Grace,” Corlys began, leaning forward in his seat. “The Free Cities are growing bolder by the day, and their pirates choke the trade routes we depend on. If we do not act soon, it will become more than a mere annoyance—it will be a full-scale war, one we are not prepared for.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his eyes weary. This had been a topic of constant debate for months now, and the pressures of dealing with the Stepstones weighed heavily on his shoulders. “I understand your concerns, Lord Corlys,” Viserys said, his voice tired but steady. “But sending men and ships to the Stepstones will require resources we cannot easily spare. And with the situation at home—”

“We cannot afford not to act,” Corlys interjected, his tone more urgent now. “The crown’s strength is being tested on multiple fronts. If we do nothing, we will be seen as weak, and those who oppose us will seize that opportunity.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the council’s concerns pressed down on him. He knew Corlys was right in many ways, but the thought of yet another conflict on the horizon was one he dreaded. Before he could respond, Tayland Lannister spoke up hesitantly, his voice carrying a note of caution.

“Your Grace… there’s another matter that requires your attention,” Tayland began, glancing nervously around the table before continuing. “Dorne… it seems there have been reports along the borders again. They’ve been unusually quiet since Prince Y/N returned to the capital with his dragon, but now there are whispers of movement once more. It’s… concerning.”

Viserys’s expression darkened as he turned to Tayland, the mention of Dorne stirring up memories of the years-long skirmishes his son had just returned from. “Are you suggesting,” Viserys said slowly, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration, “that my only son should be sent back to wage another campaign against Dorne? After everything he has already sacrificed?”

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Tayland shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly regretting his words. “No, Your Grace, I… I only meant to say that the situation is escalating again. But I agree, it would be unwise to send Prince Y/N back into that… turmoil so soon after his return.”

Viserys’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair, his frustration evident. “He has just returned to us, to his family. I will not send him back to fight a war that may never truly end. There must be another solution.”

Lord Lyonel Strong, always the voice of reason, spoke up after a brief pause. “Your Grace, I understand your desire to protect your son, as do we all. But we must acknowledge the importance of securing our borders. Dorne is unpredictable, and if they sense weakness, they will strike. However, sending the prince to face them again is not a long-term solution. We cannot afford to jeopardize the king’s only male heir every time a threat arises.”

Lyonel’s words hung heavy in the air, and the other council members nodded in agreement. The stakes were high, and while Y/N had proven himself a capable warrior, his constant involvement in these dangerous conflicts was not sustainable for the future of the realm.

Grand Maester Mellos, who had been quietly observing the conversation, cleared his throat and added his voice to the discussion. “Lord Lyonel speaks wisely. Prince Y/N has more than proven his worth on the battlefield, but his place is here, at court, preparing to take on the responsibilities of the crown. We cannot risk his life in prolonged skirmishes. It is the duty of the crown to ensure stability for the future.”

Viserys exhaled slowly, nodding as he absorbed the council’s words. “You’re right, all of you. My son has done more than enough for the realm, and I will not send him to fight these endless battles again. We must find a way to secure our borders without sacrificing my heir.”

Corlys, though still eager for action, seemed to understand the king’s concern. He leaned back slightly, his tone more measured now. “If we do not wish to send Prince Y/N back into the fray, then we must consider strengthening our defenses along the Dornish border. More men, perhaps. More fortifications. A show of force to deter any further incursions.”

Lyonel nodded in agreement. “A strong presence on the border may be enough to keep Dorne in check, at least for the time being. It would send a message without committing the prince to another campaign.”

Viserys seemed to take comfort in that suggestion, though the weight of his decisions still sat heavily on his shoulders. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Begin preparations to reinforce our forces along the border. We will not provoke Dorne, but we will not be caught unprepared.”

The council members murmured their agreement, and the conversation turned to the practicalities of mobilizing the necessary men and resources. But as the discussion continued, Viserys’s mind remained elsewhere—on his son, on the future of the realm, and on the difficult choices that lay ahead.

After the meeting adjourned and the council members began to filter out of the room, Viserys sat in silence for a long moment, his thoughts troubled. The kingdom was constantly in a state of unrest, with threats both near and far, and though he longed for peace, it seemed ever elusive.

The days in the capital had begun to stretch into a monotonous blur of courtly duties and council meetings. You found yourself restless, confined by the expectations of your role as the king's heir. The small council had agreed to a strategy to secure the borders of Dorne and strengthen the Stepstones, but to your growing frustration, it was Daemon, not you, who was being sent to deliver the message and oversee its execution alongside Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.

You had spent years on the battlefield, earning your place as a warrior and a leader, and now, to be told that you were needed in the capital rather than on the front lines gnawed at you. Duty was one thing, but to be sidelined while others carried out the work you were more than capable of handling left you feeling as though you were trapped in a gilded cage.

It was on one of those restless days that you found yourself walking through the Dragonpit, the familiar scent of dragon leather and smoke filling the air. Your feet carried you forward instinctively, until you rounded the corner and saw your uncle, Daemon, preparing for his departure. Caraxes, his blood-red dragon, loomed behind him, stretching his wings as if eager to take flight.

Daemon, as always, looked at ease, his armor gleaming under the dim light of the pit. He was speaking with a handful of his men, issuing last-minute orders before mounting his dragon. His casual confidence only seemed to stoke the fire of your frustration further.

“Off to war again, are you, Uncle?” you called, your tone sharper than you intended as you approached.

Daemon turned, a knowing smirk already forming on his lips when he saw you. “Aye, someone has to keep things interesting while you play the dutiful prince in King’s Landing,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar mix of teasing and challenge.

You frowned, coming to a stop in front of him. “I should be going with you,” you said bluntly, your hands flexing at your sides. “This strategy was mine as much as anyone's. Yet here I am, stuck in the capital while you fly off to handle things.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to enjoy the council meetings, nephew. Perhaps court life is growing on you after all.”

You shot him a glare, but Daemon only laughed, clearly enjoying your irritation. “It’s not a matter of enjoying it. I’ve fought in Dorne, I know the terrain, the people. I should be there with you.”

Daemon’s smirk faded slightly as he regarded you more seriously. “You’ve already done your duty in Dorne, Y/N. The realm can’t afford to lose its heir over another skirmish. That’s why Viserys wants you here. Someone has to keep the peace while I make sure the Stepstones don’t fall into chaos.”

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to let the matter rest. “I’m not made for sitting idly by, Daemon. I should be out there, doing what I do best.”

Daemon’s expression shifted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something close to understanding in his eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Believe me, I know how it feels to be sidelined, to be told that you’re too valuable to risk. But you have something bigger to worry about. You’re the heir to the Iron Throne. If you fall, if something happens to you, Viserys loses everything.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Daemon cut you off with a knowing look. “I’ve fought in more wars than I care to count, and I’ve seen men die for less. But this—what you and I are dealing with now—this is about the long game. You’ll get your chance to fight again, trust me. But for now, the capital needs you. Viserys needs you.”

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. As much as you hated to admit it, Daemon was right. Your place, as frustrating as it was, was here in King’s Landing, keeping the peace and preparing for the future. The realm needed stability, and as much as you longed to be out in the field, your father had made it clear that your role as heir took precedence.

Daemon clapped a hand on your shoulder, his usual cocky grin returning. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Otto while I’m gone. Can’t trust him to keep his hands clean without us watching.”

You smirked despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’d rather see me fight in council chambers than on the battlefield?”

“If you can survive a meeting with Hightower without strangling him, I’d say you’ve already won a battle,” Daemon quipped. He moved past you toward Caraxes, his dragon shifting eagerly as his rider approached.

As Daemon mounted the blood-red dragon, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, nephew. I’ll make sure the Stepstones stay under control. You just keep things from falling apart here.”

With that, Daemon urged Caraxes into the air, the dragon’s powerful wings beating against the wind as they lifted into the sky. You watched them go, the weight of your frustration still heavy in your chest, though tempered by the reminder of your responsibility. You knew Daemon was right, but the desire to join him still burned in your veins.

As Caraxes disappeared into the clouds, you turned away, your mind already shifting back to the politics of the capital. There was no escaping the duties that awaited you, no matter how much you longed for the freedom of the battlefield. For now, the capital would be your battleground, and courtly intrigue your sword.

You could only hope it was enough to keep you sane until you could fly into battle again.

The afternoon sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in a soft, golden glow. The air was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, bringing with it the faint scent of roses and lavender. Rhaenyra sat on a cushioned bench beneath one of the larger trees, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were engaged in quiet conversation. Beside her, Alicent sat with her usual poise, though the tension between them was palpable despite the pleasant setting.

Since their argument a few days ago, the two friends had yet to fully resolve the unspoken rift between them. They had, for now, put their differences aside, but there was an underlying awkwardness that neither seemed eager to address directly. Rhaenyra, for her part, felt torn between her loyalty to Alicent and the possessive protectiveness she now felt toward her brother. Every time she looked at Alicent, she could feel the jealousy simmering beneath the surface, though she did her best to hide it.

Still, today, Rhaenyra felt lighter, happier. It had been a few days since her last encounter with her brother, and the memory of their shared kiss, their stolen moments of intimacy, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had missed him terribly in the years he had spent in Dorne, but now that he was back, she felt whole again—more than whole, even. There was a secret between them now, something precious and exhilarating that only they shared. It was a feeling that made her heart race and her thoughts drift to places she dared not speak aloud.

Alicent, always attuned to her friend’s moods, noticed the change in Rhaenyra almost immediately. She had observed over the past few days how Rhaenyra seemed… different. There was a lightness in her demeanor, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there before. Despite their recent argument, Alicent couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You seem happier these days, Rhaenyra,” Alicent remarked, her tone casual, though her eyes searched Rhaenyra’s face for any hint of what might have caused this change. “More at ease than you were a week ago.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her expression neutral for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose I am,” she admitted, leaning back against the bench, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her gown. “It’s good to have my brother home again. I had forgotten how much I missed him.”

Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something Rhaenyra didn’t miss. “He has been a calming presence for all of us, I think,” Alicent said softly. “The court feels… steadier with him back.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her mind wandered to thoughts that had little to do with the politics of the court. Her happiness, her newfound sense of ease, had little to do with the stability of King’s Landing and everything to do with the intimate moments she had shared with her brother. The kiss they had stolen, the way his hands had moved over her body, the way they had whispered to each other in the quiet of the night—it filled her with a secret kind of joy that made her pulse quicken just thinking about it.

But she couldn’t tell Alicent that, of course. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she held close to her heart, something that belonged to her and her brother alone. And yet, as she sat there in the garden, surrounded by her handmaidens and her friend, Rhaenyra felt the weight of that secret pressing down on her, urging her to protect it at all costs.

Alicent’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone soft, almost wistful. “You’ve always been so strong, Rhaenyra, but… there’s a lightness about you now that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her smile widening slightly. “Perhaps it’s because I’m no longer alone,” she replied, though her words held a double meaning that Alicent could not have understood. “It’s been… good to have him near. To be reminded of how much he means to me.”

Alicent nodded, though Rhaenyra could sense the unspoken tension between them. The argument they had about her brother still lingered in the background, and while they had put it aside for now, Rhaenyra knew that it had changed something between them. Alicent had always been loyal, always supportive, but there was no denying that her interest in [Your Name] had stoked Rhaenyra’s possessiveness.

“I spoke to my father recently,” Alicent said after a moment, her tone more subdued now. “He mentioned how important it is for your brother to find a suitable match. I imagine the court will soon begin pressuring him.”

Rhaenyra’s smile faltered slightly at that, her heart tightening at the thought of her brother being married off to some noble lady for the sake of alliances. She knew his duty as heir, just as she knew her own, but the idea of sharing him with anyone else made her blood run cold.

“I’m sure the court has its plans,” Rhaenyra replied carefully, her tone measured. “But my brother has never been one to let others decide his fate for him.”

Alicent glanced at Rhaenyra, a knowing look in her eyes. “Perhaps not. But you know as well as I do that duty often outweighs personal desires in our world. Your brother will have to marry eventually.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw slightly, trying to keep her voice calm. “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean he will let them choose for him.”

A silence fell between them, the tension from their previous argument rearing its head once more. Alicent, ever observant, seemed to sense the shift in Rhaenyra’s mood and quickly changed the subject, offering a soft smile. “Regardless, it’s good to see you happy, Rhaenyra. You deserve it.”

Rhaenyra returned the smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Internally, she was still reeling from the conversation, her mind racing with thoughts of her brother and the future that seemed so uncertain. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they had shared. And though she knew the court would try to force his hand, she was determined to protect what they had.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the handmaidens began to gather their things, preparing to leave the gardens. Rhaenyra stood, her mind still swirling with the weight of her secret and the unspoken tension between her and Alicent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her brother’s return had changed everything—not just for her, but for the future of the realm.

The darkness surrounded you, thick and suffocating. You knew you were dreaming, yet the world felt all too real, pulling you back to the brutal, violent past you had tried so hard to leave behind. The scent of blood and smoke filled your nostrils, the familiar roar of battle echoing in your ears.

You were back on the Dornish border, where the sun beat down mercilessly on the rocky landscape, turning the sand beneath your feet into a blinding sea of heat. But the heat wasn’t what bothered you. It was the blood, the endless blood that stained the ground, your armor, your hands.

Before you, Silverwing loomed, her massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. Her scales glimmered in the sunlight, a majestic and terrifying sight as she snarled, her jaws open wide, ready to unleash hell upon your enemies.

The clash of swords, the cries of dying men, and the acrid scent of burning flesh assaulted your senses as you gripped the reins, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been here before, so many times. Leading men into battle, commanding them, killing for the crown. But this time, it felt different. More vivid. More terrifying.

Dornish soldiers surged forward, their spears glinting in the sun, their faces twisted with rage and desperation. You shouted orders to your men, your voice hoarse from the strain of command, but your words seemed to be lost in the chaos around you. The Dornish were relentless, their numbers overwhelming, and despite the strength of your forces, you could feel the tide turning.

With a roar, Silverwing reared up, her wings beating against the air with enough force to send men stumbling backward. You felt the bond between you and your dragon pulse through your veins as you urged her forward. With a deafening screech, Silverwing descended upon the enemy, her massive jaws snapping shut around a group of Dornish soldiers.

Blood sprayed across the battlefield as Silverwing bit down, her powerful teeth tearing through armor, flesh, and bone with sickening ease. The sound of the men’s screams was lost beneath the thunderous roar of the dragonfire that erupted from her mouth, incinerating everything in its path. Soldiers who had been advancing toward you moments before were now nothing more than charred corpses, their bodies reduced to ash.

You watched, horrified, as Silverwing tore into another group of soldiers, her claws ripping them apart with savage efficiency. Blood splattered across the sand, pooling in thick, dark puddles that soaked into the earth. Limbs were torn from bodies, men reduced to nothing more than broken pieces of flesh and bone, and still, the Dornish kept coming.

The heat of the dragonfire was unbearable, searing your skin even from where you sat atop Silverwing. The stench of burning flesh filled your lungs, choking you, but there was no time to think, no time to feel anything but the cold, brutal instinct to survive. You spurred Silverwing forward, her massive body plowing through the enemy lines, scattering men like leaves in the wind.

But it wasn’t enough. No matter how many men Silverwing killed, no matter how many bodies littered the ground, the Dornish soldiers kept coming, their faces twisted with hatred, their eyes filled with the desire to see you dead. You felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in your chest as the enemy began to close in around you.

Suddenly, one of the Dornish soldiers broke through the chaos, his spear aimed directly at you. You had only a split second to react, but it wasn’t fast enough. The spear pierced your side, the sharp pain exploding through your body as the world spun around you. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky against your skin, but you barely had time to register the pain before another soldier was upon you, his sword raised high.

Silverwing roared in fury, her massive jaws snapping shut around the soldier, crushing him with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across your face as the man’s body was ripped apart in Silverwing’s teeth, his screams cut short as his skull was crushed like an eggshell.

The battlefield was a nightmare of blood, fire, and death. Everywhere you looked, there were bodies—some charred beyond recognition, others torn apart by dragonfire and claws. The ground was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of death. You felt the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating you.

You tried to command Silverwing, to take control of the chaos, but your voice wouldn’t come. The pain from the spear wound throbbed in time with your heartbeat, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurred, the world around you spinning as you fought to stay conscious. But even through the haze of pain, you could still see the carnage—Silverwing tearing through men like they were nothing more than playthings, their bodies breaking and burning beneath her fury.

You were losing control, and you knew it. The battle was slipping away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

And then, suddenly, you were falling. The reins slipped from your fingers, your body tipping forward as the ground rushed up to meet you. You hit the sand with a bone-jarring thud, the impact driving the air from your lungs. The world went black for a moment, the sounds of the battlefield fading into nothing.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you saw was blood—so much blood, pooling around you, soaking into the sand. Your own blood. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but your body wouldn’t respond. You were trapped, helpless, watching as the battle raged on around you.

Silverwing roared somewhere in the distance, her voice filled with rage and pain. You could feel her, feel her fury, her desperation to protect you. But you were powerless to help her, powerless to stop the nightmare unfolding before your eyes.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the sight of Silverwing, her jaws clamped down on another group of Dornish soldiers, their bodies breaking apart like twigs beneath her crushing teeth. The blood sprayed across the battlefield, the screams of the dying filling your ears.

And then, there was nothing.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest, your body drenched in sweat. The room around you was quiet, the familiar walls of your chambers in the Red Keep reassuring you that you were no longer on the battlefield. But the images of the nightmare lingered—Silverwing’s fury, the blood, the death.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you. It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. Just a dream. But deep down, you knew that it was more than that. It was a memory—a memory of the horrors you had witnessed, the lives you had taken, and the toll it had taken on your soul.

No matter how far you ran from it, the blood and fire of Dorne would always haunt you.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Red Keep as you walked alongside your father through the expansive gardens of the palace. King Viserys had been spending more time with you in the past months since your return from Dorne, and today was no different. He seemed eager, almost desperate at times, to enjoy moments of quiet between the demands of his reign.

You had always admired your father’s ability to maintain a sense of peace amidst the political storms that often raged around him. But lately, something had shifted. As the days passed, you found yourself becoming more aware of the subtle signs of wear and tear that the Iron Throne had wrought upon him.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in your father’s hand. It was barely perceptible, but you had spent enough time in his company recently to know that it wasn’t just a passing weakness. Your brows furrowed in concern, and you finally spoke up, your voice quiet but laced with worry.

“Father,” you began, glancing at his hand, “are you feeling well?”

Viserys looked at you, startled by the question at first, but then smiled in that familiar way of his, as if trying to reassure you of something he could no longer be certain of himself. He flexed his hand slightly, noticing your gaze.

“I’m fine, truly,” he said, though his tone was too quick, too eager to dismiss your concerns. “It’s nothing but an old man’s ache. The last cut I suffered from sitting the throne seemed to have gone deeper than usual… into the muscle, I think. It must have caused the tremble.”

You frowned, stopping for a moment to face him fully. “The Iron Throne should not wound the king, Father. I fear it has done more harm than you’re letting on.”

Viserys waved a hand, brushing off your concern. “The throne is sharp and unforgiving, yes, but I’ve sat upon it for years. It’s nothing more than an old man’s ailment. Nothing for you to worry about.”

But you couldn’t let go of the unease that gnawed at you. You had heard the stories, how the throne only cut those who were unworthy, how its jagged edges served as a constant reminder of the heavy price of rule. And now, seeing your father—the once strong, vibrant man who had ruled the realm with a steady hand—reduced to such a state, it made you wonder if the cost of the throne was truly worth it.

You glanced down at your father’s hand again, the faint tremor still there. Silent for a moment, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest as you considered the prospect that one day, the Iron Throne would be yours. It was a thought you had pushed aside for years, choosing instead to focus on your duties as a warrior, a protector of the realm. But now, standing here beside your father, the reality of it felt closer than ever.

“Is it worth it, Father?” you asked quietly, almost to yourself, though the question lingered in the air between you.

Viserys looked at you sharply, his expression softening after a beat as he realized the weight behind your words. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as if burdened by more than just the crown. “Is it worth it…” he repeated softly, his gaze distant as he looked out at the gardens. “The Iron Throne… it is a heavy burden, my son. There is no denying that. But we don’t take the throne because it is easy, or because it is what we wish for ourselves.”

He turned to face you, his eyes tired but full of the wisdom of years spent ruling. “We take the throne because it is our duty. Our legacy. We are Targaryens, and the realm looks to us for leadership, for stability. That is worth more than the cost.”

You remained silent for a moment, pondering his words. The duty of being heir to the throne had always been something you accepted but never truly embraced. You had spent years on the battlefield, finding comfort in the clarity of combat, where there were no endless whispers of court intrigue or delicate balance of politics. But ruling… ruling was something different. It required sacrifice, constant vigilance, and endless compromise. And it required you to sit upon that cursed throne, the one that had already begun to cut into your father’s flesh.

“I understand the duty,” you said after a moment, your voice measured, “but I can’t help but feel that ruling is more than just doing what is expected of us. You’ve always been able to manage the demands of the crown, but I fear I lack your patience. I don’t know if I can find that balance.”

Viserys smiled gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re more like me than you think, Y/N, though I know you’ve never desired court life. You’ve always been happiest on the battlefield, away from the games of politics. But ruling is its own kind of battle. And, just like on the battlefield, you must find the right strategy.”

You chuckled lightly, though the weight of his words didn’t escape you. “I’ve always preferred the battlefield, where at least I know who my enemies are.”

“That’s the trick,” Viserys said, his smile widening. “In court, they may not hold swords, but the battles are just as dangerous. And the price of losing is far greater.”

You nodded, understanding what he was saying. The thought of navigating the intricacies of the court, of having to make decisions that could affect the entire realm, filled you with a sense of dread. But this was the reality of your position. One day, the crown would pass to you, whether you were ready for it or not.

Viserys seemed to sense your unease and gently changed the subject, steering the conversation away from the future you both knew was inevitable. “Have you been adjusting well since your return? I know the transition from the battlefield to the court isn’t an easy one.”

You sighed, glancing around the garden before looking back at your father. “It’s… an adjustment. I’ve managed, somehow, though it’s been difficult to find my footing. Everything here feels slower, more drawn out. There’s no sense of urgency like there is in battle.”

Viserys nodded thoughtfully. “Court life can feel stifling at times, I’ll admit. It isn’t what you imagined for yourself, I’m sure.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “No, it isn’t. But I’ve accepted my place. I know what’s expected of me.”

Viserys squeezed your shoulder gently, his expression softening with affection. “I know, my son. And I also know that this is not the life you would have chosen for yourself. You’ve always been a warrior, someone who thrives in action. But a good king finds balance. He learns to fight the battles that can’t be won with a sword.”

You glanced at your father, seeing the weight of years of rule etched into his face. His words, though meant to reassure you, only served to remind you of the impossible burden that awaited you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever find that balance he spoke of—if you could ever be the ruler your father believed you could be.

As you walked together in the garden, your mind drifted back to the Iron Throne, to the cuts it had already inflicted on your father. The price of rule was steep, and as much as you tried to push the thought aside, you knew that one day, that same burden would fall upon you.

But for now, you would follow your father’s guidance, learn what you could, and prepare for the day when the realm would look to you to sit upon the throne that demanded blood as its price.

The evening was late, and the Red Keep had settled into a quiet stillness, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight and the distant echo of footsteps from the night’s watchmen to break the silence. It was during these hours that you found your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers, as had become your clandestine routine. Your secret meetings, hidden from the prying eyes of the court, were the only times you both could truly be together—free from the weight of duty and expectation.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting long shadows across the walls. You could hear the gentle rustling of the curtains as the evening breeze slipped through the cracks of the window. But none of that mattered. The moment you entered, your attention was solely on her—Rhaenyra, lying in wait on the bed, her eyes bright with the same fire that had been between you since your first kiss.

Without a word, you crossed the room and claimed her lips in a feverish kiss, your hands cradling her face as you pressed her down into the softness of the mattress. The world outside, the pressures of the throne, the burdens you carried as the heir to the realm—all of it disappeared in her presence. Here, in the dark, it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Your body moved instinctively, pressing closer to hers, the thin layers of clothing between you both doing little to contain the heat of your shared desire. Rhaenyra responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, her breath coming faster with each kiss. You could feel her heart beating in time with your own, the intensity of the moment building as your hands roamed over her body.

She broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with the same fierce affection and need that mirrored your own. "I missed you," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with the weight of truth.

You smiled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "I’m here now," you whispered back before capturing her lips once more, your kisses growing deeper, more urgent.

As you pressed her further into the bed, her hands moved down, her fingers grazing the waistband of your trousers before slipping inside. The sensation made you groan into the kiss, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She worked with practiced ease, her hand moving slowly as she freed your manhood from the confines of your clothing.

The moment her fingers wrapped around you, the world seemed to narrow to the sensation alone. Your groan deepened, your forehead resting against hers as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The heat between you both was nearly unbearable, the need to be closer, to feel her entirely, overwhelming every other thought in your mind.

"Rhaenyra," you breathed against her lips, your voice hoarse with desire.

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and kissed you again, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate work. The pressure built quickly, your body responding to her touch with an intensity you couldn’t control. Her thumb brushed against you in just the right way, and with a final shudder, you felt the release you had been so desperately chasing.

You groaned against her lips, your body trembling as you spilled yourself onto her thigh, the tension that had been building finally giving way to sweet relief. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your forehead still pressed to hers as you tried to regain your composure.

Rhaenyra smiled at you, her expression one of both satisfaction and tenderness. She brought your face back to hers for another kiss, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. Her fingers trailed through your hair as she pressed closer to you, the warmth of her body a comfort in the quiet aftermath.

You opened your eyes, your heart still racing, and kissed her forehead gently. "It’s my turn," you whispered against her skin, your voice filled with both affection and desire. "To return the favor."

Rhaenyra’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as you began trailing kisses down her jawline, your lips brushing against her neck, lingering there as you felt the pulse of her heartbeat beneath your lips. She sighed softly, her hands gently pulling at your shoulders as you moved lower, your mouth tracing a path along her collarbone, then down her chest.

Your kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as you moved further down her body, your lips brushing against her stomach, feeling the soft curve of her skin beneath your fingertips. Every touch seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from her, her body relaxing beneath you as she surrendered to the sensations you were creating.

When your kisses reached her womanhood, her breath hitched, and a low moan escaped her lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she arched slightly beneath you. You felt the heat of her, tasted the subtle sweetness of her skin, and your only thought was to please her, to give her the same release she had given you.

Rhaenyra’s soft moans filled the room, her fingers tightening in your hair as you continued your ministrations, her body trembling with every kiss, every touch. The sounds of her pleasure only spurred you on, the bond between you deepening with each passing second, each shared breath.

As you looked up at her, seeing the way her eyes fluttered closed in pure satisfaction, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. There was no one else in the world who could make you feel the way she did—no one else who could understand the depth of your connection. And in that moment, you knew that nothing, not even the demands of the court, could take this from you.

This was yours. She was yours. And for now, in the quiet intimacy of the night, that was all that mattered.

#house of the dragon #hotd x y/n #hotd x male reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x male reader

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bookofbonbon · 5 months

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all's fair (in love and war) - sneak peek.

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x halfsister!reader (sort of, not really).

word count: 900+.

a/n: this is a long ass sneak peek for a long ass fic that i probably won't finish for like another two months lmao. but i just want to share it.

The silence is broken only by the clanging of heavy metal as Aegon reaches into a pocket of his coat, pulling something hefty from it. A chain of some sort- golden in colour and heavy in his hand as it reaches down toward the ground. But, not weighing him down for much longer as he carelessly tosses the weighted piece of jewelry down the length of the table, toward you.

It slides against the marble of the small council table with ease, coming to a near stop; however, the force from Aegon's throw sends it partly over the edge of the table and the rest soon follows with a heavy clang against the stone floor.

You peer down at the heavy pile of golden links, all too familiar with the significance of the hideous necklace.

You don't touch it.

Tilting your head, your eyes find Aegon with raised eyebrows, "what is the meaning of this?"

"You know exactly what it is," Aegon tells you gruffly. "Put it on. You are to be my Master of War."

You balk at the idea, those eight words helping you easily figure out the cause of the tension that seemed to suffocate the room.

"Have you gone mad?"

The sharp sound of wood splintering echoes in the chambers, part of his chair having snapped off in his hand, his jaw ticking madly as he levels you with a glare that holds the fire of a thousand dragons.

"Aegon..." Alicent calls softly at first, glancing nervously between the two of you; her chair soon scraping roughly against the stone floors, voice firmer, louder and, shaking with worry as he stalks toward you. "Aegon!"

The sound of several wooden chairs soon follow hers as the rest of those who sit around the small council table follow her lead, all worried about what the new King was about to do to his half-sister.

"Stay put!" he snaps at the lot of them before turning on you. Snatching the chain from the ground, he wraps a rough hand around your arm, pulling you behind him as he leads the way out of the small council chambers and into its foyer where he releases his hold.

"Leave the doors open!" He commands the Kingsguard.

Aegon paces the foyer, breathing heavily through his nose and a hand pinching its bridge. Back and forth, back and forth, a short, almost hysterical laugh bubbling out of his chest and leaving you uncertain for the first time about his state of mind.

“Aegon,” you touch his shoulder. “Aegon, what is going on?"

There’s a beat of silence as he finally stills, turning to look at you. You take a sharp breath, seeing for the first time that he was already folding beneath the weight of the crown.

"Look at the people seated around the table," he tells you.

"What of them?"

"Who in there, is there for me?"

"All of them," you shrug. What else were you supposed to say? Every single person who sat in that room had plotted against Rhaenyra to install him on the throne.

"You would think so," he breathes a laugh, eyes softening. "No one in there, is there for me. None of them think that I can do this, that I can be King. None of them are here because they believe in me. But you-"

He takes your hands in his, standing closer to you than you had allowed him in over four years, the gold chain cold between your hands.

"-you always have. You have always been all I had and you still are. You are the only person I can trust. I need you. So just-"

He unwraps his hands from yours, holding the chain of office out to you. "-will you just put the damn thing on and sit down?"

You hesitate, hand twitching at your side but you nod anyway.

Bowing your head, you allow him to place it on you. He's careful in his movements, gently pulling your hair from underneath the chain where it's trapped- with eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you watch with a faint smile as he arranges it neatly on your chest, ensuring every piece is turned properly and in place.

When he's done, you look down at the chain of office which now adorns you, "Master of War, huh? How peacefully that must have gone down with the small council and your family."

Aegon scoffs, eyes hardening once again as he glares into the room full of onlookers.

"You've more war experience than most of the fools who sit around that table, experience gained under the tutelage of the Sea Snake as well. They may counsel me on whatever else may come but, on this I will have their heads if they dare go against me. Now I believe this also now belongs to you-"

He reaches into another pocket of his coat, pulling out a large spherical stone and placing it in your hand, "Welcome to the small council."

You stare at the heavy object and in your periphery, you note that Aegon is walking back into the small council chambers. Turning your head toward the room, everyone has relaxed back into their seats. Rolling the sphere around, you feel the weight of it in your hand and the weight of your promises to Rhaenyra on your shoulders.

Following Aegon, you stand at the opposite end of where he sits at the table's head; where you will sit. You swallow thickly, heart thumping heavily in your chest as you scan the faces of his councilmen, each of them waiting on you. Your fingers ghost over the device made to hold the sphere. Aegon leans back in his chair, eyes on you as he waits for you to commence the meeting and as you place the sphere down, you place also those promises you held to Rhaenyra down as well to address the King and his councilmen.

"Shall we begin?"

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon fanfic

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: You know I can't resist... So here is another chapter! Hehe, thanks for the love and kind words as per usual! I wonder what the reader is going to do now heheh <3

Chapter 82: The Cracks

A letter sat in the centre of the table in your chambers. Its soft yellow parchment was rolled neatly, a black, three headed dragon wax seal holding the fine paper together. It had been untouched. Unread. Unopened. The seal still in its whole form.

A letter from your family.

Its soft gentle sloping the telltale sign of your mothers handwriting. Small and gentle, feminine slopes, no harsh ’t’s or sloppy ‘y’s. It was her. And you let a small sigh of relief escape from your lips.

The letter began as most did, a greeting, a comment about Daemon to let you know it was your mother, despite you knowing her writing by heart. But then the letter became more anxious. Asking about your wellbeing, stating that it had been too long since they had last heard from you.

How long had it been?

Was time running away from you? The days bleeding and blinking together.

When was the last time that you had written?

Aemond had held the parchment out for you and you had taken it wordlessly, bitter resentment still curling in your gut. You took your time walking to the chaise and moved to sit by the light and warmth of the fire to read, the hearth crackling softly as Aemond sat at the table, quill in hand. Quiet gentle scratches of ink rose in the air as he wrote, having been writing all day after you had spent yours in the Gardens.

‘It has been too long, we fear you have fallen ill. Are you well? Must we come visit to see for ourselves? Alicent has corresponded to let us know that you are well, but we wish to hear from your own word. Have you lost yourself amongst the library? Or have you run out of starfruit and are desperately in need of more?’

Alicent?

Your mother had written to Alicent?

You smiled at Rhaenyra's script, bringing the parchment to your nose and inhaling deeply. It smelt of her. Her subtle oils that she rubbed into her skin, the soap she used to wash her hair, and the ever so faint smell of smoke.

‘Jacaerys and Baela were wed in tradition here at Dragonstone.’

A stone sank in your stomach.

‘It was a beautiful day, no winds, nor rains, nor a cloud in sight. Baela was a vision, a beauty of Valyrian blood, and Jacaerys as handsome as ever. His hair has grown longer, it curls above his shoulders now. He misses you terribly. We all do. Your absence was noted at the union by all present.’

A tear fell from your cheek.

You had missed it.

Baela and Jacaerys’ union.

A union of love.

A union of respect.

Something pure.

And you had missed it.

A day like that would never come again.

You felt sick to your stomach as another tear fell from your eyes, stomach turning painfully as you thought of it.

You thought of your father, proud and smiling at his daughter and step son. Of how Rhaneyra would have beamed, and fretted over Jacaerys’ hair and clothing. Of how Rhaena would have been glued to Baela’s side.

You wondered what Joffrey, Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger had worn. Of what they looked like. Of how it had been.

Would you have smiled brightly at the union, filled with joy at seeing two people you love dearly be wed to one another?

Or would have cried, overwhelmed by it all and what you had missed out on in life?

You sniffed, and Aemond’s head lifted from his page to look at you. You roughly wiped your eyes with the back of your hand placing the parchment in your lap as you tried to steady your breathing.

You had not forgotten the dinner that the two of you had. Nor of Aegon’s confession of Aemond’s deceit.

But you swallowed it as you did everything else, and made priority over what you could and could not feel for. And soon the sadness that ate at you turned to anger, and you began to think more on when the perfect time to strike is.

Aemond stood from the table, shoes barely making a sound as he came around beside you, one hand on your shoulder as he reached forward for the letter.

If Aemond so wished it, he could sneak anywhere without being seen or heard.

“May I?” He asked, and with shaky fingers you lifted the parchment to give to him.

“Jacaerys and Baela were wed.” You spoke dully, pushing down the tide inside of you.

Stay strong.

Aemond hummed, eyes skimming the pages, “I am sorry to have missed it.”

“As am I.”

“Perhaps when Rhaena is wed-“ Aemond stopped himself.

Rhaena.

Rhaena was betrothed to Lucerys.

But now she would not wed him.

You would never get to see Lucerys be married to someone who would have loved him just as fiercely as you did. You would never get to see him grow, or start a family of his own. You would never get to see him grey with age. Lucerys would always be a boy.

You stood on stiff knees, brushing down your skirt in habit.

“Excuse me.” Was all you said as you moved yourself away from your uncle and the fireplace, and across the room to leave the chambers, leaving Aemond behind, needing a moment for air.

Needing a moment to breathe.

A moment to be away from it.

It was overwhelming, and you fought the urge to cry.

You slowly made your way down to the Gardens, neither walking fast or slow, but taking your time with each step as you tried to steady your breathing and tame the tides that surged within.

“It has been a while since I saw you here.”

You turned your head slowly, looking behind you.

Aegon sat in your usual seat in the Gardens, looking at you with a lazy grin. He did not wear his crown today, and despite him being alone and you with him, your heart did not race.

“I have been thankful.” You responded, moving to continue on your walk down the Gardens to the shore of the beach.

Aegon’s footsteps clunked against the stone ground loudly, heavy on his feet where Aemond was light, as he chased to catch up with you, your hands held together at your front.

It was a fine day in King’s Landing. Small clouds littered the skies, and a gentle breeze rolled through the trees and plants of the Garden, wafting the sweet aroma of the flowers around you.

“Might I join you on this walk?” The King asked, no tone of mocking in his voice.

You turned your head to look at him, eyes roaming up and down his body.

Aemond would be furious.

“You may.” You said stiffly, turning your head away as you strolled together past bushels of lavender and rosemary, their gentle scents curling around you.

“And how is my brother today? Has his temper been soothed?”

“He is in our chambers, attending to your duties.”

Aegon hummed in agreement, a high pitch noise where Aemond’s was deep. Aegon’s came from his throat, Aemond’s came from his chest.

“Aemond does love his writing and his books. Best to keep him preoccupied.”

“And you love your drinking and your whoring.” You replied primly.

“And what if I told you I have turned a new leaf?” Aegon’s tone lightened, head turned to smile at you in your periphery.

You kept your eyes ahead on the path, “I would not believe it.”

Aegon laughed heartily, "I suppose you may be right. No harm in trying.”

“There is plenty.”

“Did Aemond ravish you after the council dinner? I have never seen him so fiery as he left to go after you. I can’t imagine it had been fun.”

“It was perfectly enjoyable.” You sighed.

I hate him, Aemond’s voice echoed in your head, He should beg for my mercy.

“Aemond does not leave much to be desired.” You continued, insinuating Aemond’s skills.

“Though I am thicker. You said so yourself.” Aegon waggled his brows at you and you fought the urge to not gag.

“Aemond is longer and simply reaches places you could not dream to reach, where you are thicker. Though the thickness does not stop at your cock.”

“Such a tart mouthed woman.”

“A brainless, whore of a King.”

“Be nice, or I may bend you over that rose bush.” Aegon pointed jovially at a bush you remembered Helaena getting caught in as a child.

Your stomach roiled and your heart rattled against your ribs.

“Perhaps I should bend you over it.” You quipped back, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat.

Aegon laughed sincerely as you began to walk down the steps towards the water, “I would not be adversed to it.” He smirked, hands tucked behind his back.

The walk down to the water was quiet, and as you got to the bottom, the two of you looked out at the rolling waters, soft fluffy white tips peaking over the waves, wind brushing over it softly, making the water look like diamonds.

You stood side by side for some time, counting your breaths in your head as you realised the risk of being with Aegon alone where you were.

But it has already happened.

What is another time more?

You turned your head to look at Aegon, who still looked out at the water, face still. His nose sloped softly where Aemond’s was harsh. Aegon looked more like his mother than Viserys. Soft cheeks and pouted lips, and a perpetual sadness that lingered behind his lavender eyes.

“I miss her.” His voice broke the silence.

You blinked.

“I know that you would not believe me, but I do. She was my sister. My wife,” He turned to look at you and you saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes, “The mother of my children.”

You swallowed as you looked at him, brows furrowed.

My children.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The King sighed.

“Do you know?”

Aegon shifted on his feet sighing, looking out at the water for a moment, letting the unanswered question wrap around the two of you coldly. His jaw clenched.

“They’re not your children.”

Aegon huffed, “Vicious little thing aren’t you.”

“Aemond and Helaena-“

“Loved each other in their own way. I know this. Anyone with eyes would know this.” Aegon began, brows pulled down, “But he was good to her. Kind even, if you can believe Aemond is capable of such qualities.”

“You are brothers.”

Aegon laughed humourlessly, “That we are.”

Silence.

“They are my children. My heirs. Maegor will sit the throne after me. And his children after him.” Aegon’s tone was brittle and stiff, an iciness that wrapped around each syllable.

“They ask after her, especially Maegor. But Jaehaera has gone quiet, so quiet since…” Aegon trailed off and looked back at the water, “She asked for you once.”

You blinked, “Jaehaera?”

“Mother is in charge of raising them now.” Aegon’s violet eyes met yours.

“My condolences."

Aegon turned on his heel and offered and elbow for you to loop your arm through. You looked at it in question. When had things gone so wrong? Why did life find a way for ruining connection and families? You thought for a beat, looking at your eldest uncles arm, and swallowed the fear that clawed at your throat.

Slowly, you looped yours through his as you began to walk back up through the Garden together, step by slow step as you both looked at the flowers in bloom. Your skin prickled in disgust and nausea ate at your stomach.

As you passed the Monkshood, your eyes darted to it and then back to Aegon who turned his head to meet your gaze.

“Remember when you caught me and that servant girl in the Gardens?” Aegon smirked, “I don't think I have ever seen you so red.”

There he is.

Fucking prick.

You hummed, “I could not think of a worser fate than having your cock in my mouth.”

“Ah, but you did say perhaps.” Aegon paused, letting go of your arm as he reached an arm forward, plucking a bright red rose from its bush. You watched as Aegon stepped closer to you, his scent closing around you as he lifted both arms.

You flinched at the movement, but Aegon did not stop, instead pushing its stem into the back of your braid, a thorn catching a strand of your hair as he pushed it down. Aegon stood back and smiled at his handy work.

“I did.” You swallowed, “Though I worry for your ability to actually please.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, I’m a quick learner.”

Aegon grinned, from up ahead, the greying head of Otto Hightower came into view and Aegon sighed loudly, letting his head fall backwards on his neck as he looked up at the sky.

“Duty calls.” Aegon griped, searching your face. “Until ‘perhaps’?”

Bile rose in your mouth as you stared at him.

“Perhaps.” You said coyly.

A wide smirk pulled on his lips before Aegon turned away from you walking lazily up to Otto, whose gaze flicked between you and the King, his voice hushed as he spoke to his grandson. You watched the two of them walk from the garden out of sight before you released the breath that you had been holding, heart racing.

When you arrived back in your chambers you moved straight to the table, retrieving a blank piece of parchment and writing back to your family. Apologising for not being there, assuring them of your wellbeing, telling them of the gardens and the new books you had been reading. Each swipe of your quill caused heat to bloom in your chest.

Perhaps.

You were disgusted in yourself. But you knew it had to be done.

The sound of the chamber doors alerted you to Aemond’s entrance, but you made no move to greet him nor even acknowledge him, your eyes still on the parchment as you wrote. His footfall stopped beside you as he looked at you writing your letter.

“Where have you been?” Aemond asked, tone pressing.

“The Gardens for a walk.” You responded tonelessly, looping a ‘y’ with care.

Silence wrung out in the room before you felt the gentle pull of your hair at the back of your head, Aemond held the red rose in his hand as he turned it over, your eyes still on the page as you told your mother of some of the new tomes you had received, as well as the Black Stone.

“I did not know you were fond of roses.” Aemond mused, turning it over in his hand.

You paused your writing to dip the quill in the ink pot before you lifted your gaze beneath your lashes at Aemond, “I’m not. It was a gift.” You said dully, scraping the quill against the ink well, thick drops of black ink sliding back inside its holder.

A beat.

“A gift?”

You pressed the quill back onto the parchment, “Aegon joined me on my walk.”

“Aegon?” Aemond’s voice was dangerously low.

“Do you know of any other Aegon’s in the Keep?”

“Did he touch you?” He all but growled.

“He offered an arm.” You drawled, signing off your name at the end of the letter.

“An arm and a rose.”

You dropped the quill into its holder unceremoniously before turning your upper body to look at your uncle, who’s face was pulled into a frown.

“An arm and a rose are far more respectable than a bastard given to your whore.” You spoke cooly, tilting your head down to blow on the ink lightly before looking back up at him.

“You provoke me.” He grunted.

“I do no such thing.” You countered, “Merely a friendly walk and talk with my dear uncle.”

“When has he ever been dear to you?” Aemond snipped.

“When have you ever been faithful? Honourable? You wish to question me and my honour when you have fathered a bastard. Not only have you fathered potential others," You hissed, "With this one, you did not even think to tell me, your brother did. Your ‘pathing a path with good intentions’ has been trodden under your boot.”

Your words hung heavily in the chambers as Aemond looked at you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Good.” You snipped, pushing the chair out from beneath you as you handed Aemond the scroll, “Feel free to read it if you like before sending it out.” And with that you left the chambers again, needing to cool your temper.

Over the next few days, you and Aemond danced around each other, barely speaking except for your snips and snarls, Aemond returning it with little patience and immediately apologising afterwards. And Aegon took advantage of that.

And you took advantage of him.

The King begun to hang around you more often since the walk in the Gardens. His presence appearing like smoke, seemingly out of thin air. He would find you everywhere.

Anywhere.

The Godswood.

The Library.

Even in the halls and corridors as you walked aimlessly, not wanting to be found by Aemond and his incessant presence.

And you let him.

For humouring the man brought you an advantage that you hadn’t had before. You answered his questions earnestly, and responded to his flirting with playful jabs in turn. You made quick work of it, for though you had told Aegon his cock was thicker, which was true, he was also the thickest brother. Not as smart, nor as cunning as Aemond, and it showed.

Each time the King found you, you would indulge him, little by little, and by the fourth day of his small rendezvous, you even offered him a smile, something you had previously only reserved for Aemond. And with each day coming to an end, spent by the side of the whoring and drunken King, you ended your conversations with the same echoing ‘perhaps’, and the promise of something to come.

It angered Aemond to no avail.

Each time you returned to your chambers, you would mention in fleeting passing that Aegon had found you again. That he had spoken with you. That perhaps he brought you a gift, or complimented your dress, brining home more roses, or in one instance a silk chemise. And Aemond simmered with anger each and every time.

He fucked his anger out into you and you revelled in it, coaxing it from him. Making him believe that you had no play in it. That you were not repeating ‘perhaps’ to the King. That you were not letting your eyes linger on his breeches for fleeting moments. That you were not egging the King on. That Aegon was seeking you out, that you merely had no choice but to endure his presence, that you had said no once before and Aegon had not listened.

It also left him with the possibility that you were encouraging it. Though he had no evidence of such.

Aemond saw his brother pursuing you, and you played the innocent dolt. The One-Eyed Prince’s resentment to his brother was building, and you were ecstatic.

I hate him.

That morning as you and Aemond dined together, he asked you of your plans. You told him that you would be going to the Gardens to read the rest of your book in the sun, and had plans to even have your lunch there. At the mention of the Gardens, Aemond informed you that he would be joining you.

“And is a certain King the reason for this sudden declaration of company?” You questioned, lifting a brow at the Prince from across the table.

“No.” Aemond said all too quickly, “I have finished my duties ahead of time, and wish to spend my day with my wife.”

You hummed, chewing on a small piece of toast.

Aemond wanted to make sure Aegon didn't get you alone.

When you walked down to the garden together it was a quiet affair, the only sounds being your foot steps and the swishing of your skirts. When you arrived to your usual spot, you were surprised to find it empty, but felt a small piece of disappointment knowing that the two brothers would not use you as a weapon against each other.

You sat and read for a time, though you felt the constant subtle gazes of Aemond as he looked up at you.

Sensing his unease, you sought to work on it. Tucking the book at your side you chuckled softly and looked out at the water, Aemond following your line of sight.

You needed to bite your tongue about Alys. For now.

You needed to play to your strengths and his weaknesses.

Your shared childhood.

“Do you remember when the Sea Snake told us that there were dragons in the sea?” You coaxed, letting a small smile rise on your lips as you looked back at Aemond, who’s gaze was on you, and not the water.

“Hm.”

“I remember being so excited, and you were terrified.”

Aemond huffed, “I was not terrified, I simply did not believe it.”

You grinned at him, “And why is it so unbelievable?”

“Because who would claim them?”

“Perhaps the sea people he spoke about.”

A wry grin pulled on Aemond’s lips, “Again with your tales and stories. You always did love fairytales and mystical creatures.”

“I remember you loving to hear about those stories. Besides, who is to say they aren’t real? I’m sure the people in Westeros had stories of Dragons before, and they exist, do they not? What is a tale without a little truth to it?” You turned your head to look back out at the water, Aemond’s not committal hum beside you.

You paused a moment or two, looking at the water in mock thought before you opened your mouth to speak.

“Aemond,” You asked again, looking back to find he had not taken his eye from you, “How did you remember I liked lemon tarts? Did you remember when we snuck into the kitchens?”

“I remember you running into a passage to eat them greedily. You even stole mine.”

Your mouth dropped open, “I did not. You gave it to me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and you know it to be true. You stole armfuls of them and only had two by the end. A terribly bad thief you make.”

“My apprentice was worse. You got caught the next time by the Septa.”

You winced at the memory, the sound of her shrieking voice as she screamed at the both of you, dragging you to your respected mothers and telling them that you were sneaking out of your chambers together.

“Not my fault you weren’t listening for footsteps. You were too busy complaining about Aegon.”

Aegon.

Aemond shifted at the mention.

“He was a twat.”

“Is.” You corrected him, "Do you remember when I hit him in the shins in the training yard?” You laughed loudly, enjoying the small smile that wound on Aemond’s face, “He really thought that he could best me with a sword just because I was a girl.”

“He underestimates a lot of people. Especially you.” There was a dark undertone to his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Seeing him fall to the floor, clutching his shins was better than any lemon tart or star fruit. You should have seen Ser Cole’s face! I've never seen him so appalled.”

“Not even in the library?” Aemond teased, and you blushed.

“You’re cruel.” You teased, “But Aegon deserved it.” Your tone hardened, “I couldn’t stand to see the way he treated you. How he pushed you around. How my brothers joined in.”

Aemond stayed silent as you continued.

“When I found you that day in the tunnels, after they gave you the pig…” You looked back at the water, “I wanted beat them bloody. I’ve never felt rage like that before, I wanted to-“ You paused taking a deep breath, “I know that you think I betrayed you.” You said quietly, looking at the soft white peaks on the waves below, not daring to lift your gaze to Aemond’s piercing one, “But I didn’t have a choice. Rhaenyra would have never let me stay in the Keep, and seeing your mother come after Lucerys with a blade? I was terrified.” You swallowed, thinking of that fateful night.

“I stepped in front of Lucerys, I think I was ready in that moment.” You explained, your breathing uneven, “I was ready to die for him. And then I saw you, and you were looking at me, and then I saw your eye.“ You swallowed again, “I never forgave Luc for what he did to you, just like I will never forgive you for what you did to him.”

You finally turned to face Aemond, who’s face was carefully blank, “But know that if Alicent had not come at us all with that blade, I would have run to you. I wanted to see if you were okay. I wanted to make sure that you were alright, I-“ You paused, reaching your hand out to touch the scar that split through his cheek, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. You were just a boy. And you were my friend. All we had was each other, and I left you alone.”

Aemond’s eye searched your face before his hand gripped your own, pulling it into his lap.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Aemond and your heads flicked to the noise, seeing Aegon standing at the entrance of the sitting area, Ser Cole behind him. Aemond’s hand gripped yours tightly, and you soothed over his knuckles with your thumb.

“It's not hard to find someone in a place they cannot leave.” You quipped back.

“Merely came to see if perhaps today was a good day.”

“Clearly I’m here, brother.” Aemond growled.

“Like I said, you could watch.” Aegon teased.

Aemond moved to stand, but you tugged him back down with his hand.

“When the sun rises in the West and sets in the East, Aegon.” You sighed, keeping a firm grip of Aemond’s hand.

Aegon smirked, looking down at your hands and then back up before bowing his head to the two of you. As he left, escorted by Ser Criston Cole, Aemond kept his eye on his brother the entire time, whilst you kept your eye on him.

“Aem,” You brushed his cheek with your hand, coaxing his attention back to you, “Hēnkirī hae mēr.”

Together as one.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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lovedreamer11 · 2 months

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Big anti hotdrhaenyra. HBO will never make me betray canon Rhaenyra.

Now the opinion is actively spreading that people showed their true colors after the release of the sixth episode of the second season of hotd. And that supposedly those who are unhappy with the changes made to the characters in the show, especially Rhaenyra, are not true fans of her and such actions insult the canon.

But I will reveal the truth. Just the opposite is true. The Rhaenyra from the show is not the real Rhaenyra. This is a faceless, stupid, selfish character.

The real Rhaenyra is a completely different person. Proud, hot-tempered, vindictive. She's not perfect. But she is more like a real person with real flaws.

Rhaenyra never had any problems with her gender. She was a woman, she admitted it. The Queen did not envy Daemon and did not dream of being born a man. Rhaenyra admired Visenya, but she was not her and did not try to become her.

I love that she didn’t care at all about the court’s opinion of her personal life, because she didn’t even try to pretend that she and Laenor were a married couple when she allowed her husband to live his life on Driftmark, surrounded by his favourites.

Rhaenyra was not a crazy nymphomaniac who fucked everything that moved. There is a possibility that their marriage to Laenor was never consummated, and sexual relations with Criston are refuted by all sources. In her life were: the father of her three children, Harwin, there is a possibility that there was Laena (I don’t really think it true, but this theory is very popular so let’s count it) and Daemon.

She really could love. Rhaenyra sent her husband to kill the man who dared to insult her sons. Rhaenyra's grief for Luke was so great that she fainted at the news of his death and did not take part in the war council. One of the factors that exacerbated the queen's paranoia was the deaths of Jace and Viserys, to which was added the alleged betrayal of her husband.

Rhaenyra insisted that Laena be cared for after her difficult birth by her personal maester, renowned for his healing skills, and she wanted Gerardys to care for Viserys' health. Out of love for her father, she did not cause any harm to Alicent, although she had every right to do otherwise.

Eustace confirms that Daemon was his niece's first love and appears to be the love of her life, as baby Aegon was conceived immediately after Laena's death and while Harwin was still alive. Even Mushroom mentions Daemon as Rhaenyra's "beloved husband", and Rhaenyra herself calls her husband "my prince" and is furious at rumors that her husband might be leaving her for a younger woman. And even if Daemon did cheat on his wife with Mysaria, Rhaenyra herself remained a faithful wife to her husband and had no other lovers during their marriage or after Daemon's death (I have a feeling the showRhaenyra will fuck showAlicent right after showJoffrey's death).

Rhaenyra loved her family. She loved her so much that it almost destroyed her. And I think that one of the reasons why Rhaenyra did not follow her sister's example after escaping from the capital was her love for her last living child, Aegon.

ShowRhaenyra doesn't care about anyone but herself. She has already forgotten about her dead children and is now running around the island with a dissatisfied face, dreaming of becoming a man and apparently looking for someone who fuck her. She was ready to give the Hightowers, the people who discussed her murder in episode nine, her youngest sons, without even consulting the father of her children. She went to the capital to negotiate peace with murderers, traitors and usurpers, without thinking about the negative consequences for her family.

ShowRhaenyra demands advice from the lords, but rejects all advice offered. She's hysterical and doesn't offer anything herself.

ShowRhaenyra left her father to rot alone for six years and remembered his existence, only then did she need her trash to be cleaned up after her.

ShowRhaenyra didn't get sex from showDaemon in episode four, so she went and fucked the first man she could find. This was not the act of the girl boss or a progressive woman (as black fans of the show believe) or a rapist (as green fans of the show believe), it was the act of an idiot who, being the heir to the throne in a patriarchal and misogynistic world, decided to put her reputation at risk for the sake of the man, and she didn't even love him so much. She has no right to say that showDaemon destroyed her reputation. Yes, I agree, the situation with the brothel was his fault, but it was not showDaemon who put showCriston in his niece’s bed and it was not he who advised her to give birth to obvious bastards for ten years.

At the beginning of the sixth episode of the first season, she scolded showLaenor for having the audacity to give a name to her son, and then in the next scene she shouted at showLaenor that her bastards were his sons and he should be their father and obliged to help her get out from the hole she dug for herself.

ShowMysaria talked about how she was sexually assaulted and what is your blessed girl boss doing? She immediately tries to "comfort" the other woman by starting a sexual relationship and uses showMysaria just like all the other men in her life. If Matt had been on Emma place, the poor man would have been stoned and accused of harassment.

And of course, how can one not remember that the real Rhaenyra was a style icon in Westeros, preferring purple and maroon colors, Myrish lace, diamonds and pearls? The showrhaenyra wore garbage bags in the first season and cheap robes in the second.

Every time any fans support changes to the show and insist that the show is more canon than the book, they insult the true Rhaenyra.

This is the true Rhaenyra Targaryen. She and only she.

Not Milly, not Emma. Their character is a terrible daughter, wife, mother, sister, friend and queen. Sara and Ryan wrote their own fanfic and made show about it. And in a freak accident, they gave the characters in the show the same names that GRRM gave the characters in his books.

#anti hotd #canon rhaenyra targaryen #anti hotd rhaenyra #anti hotd stans #team black #renada from hotd sucks #I curse the day the series came out #free the targaryens from hbo

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mioxeno · 3 months

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I understand why everyone is panicking about the Alicole scenes on a surface level. However Alicent only makes sense through a queer pov for me and everything we've seen so far is accurate to that portrayal. Rhaenyra is her first (and only friend) and they were much closer than two female friends typically are. It's clear she over-attaches herself to Rhaenyra for reasons she can't exactly accept or explain. Because of this the idea of Rhaenyra falling in love with a man, becoming queen having children etc. always scared her as she didn't want to lose her. However she loses her freedom to really discover herself the moment she gets forced into becoming Viserys' wife.

Most of how Alicent's life ended up, her children, her husband, even her position as queen came at the cost of her freedom and sense of self and from her perspective Rhaenyra abandoned her because she 'didn't save her from her fate'. She struggles being a loving, caring mother because her children are physical representations of the rape and abuse she suffered upon and never asked for. She wants to love them but she can't really express it nor get rid of her conflicting feelings.

When Viserys' died she started sleeping with Criston because it gave her a sense of control over someone because everyone else in her life doesn't respect or listen to her. Otto refuses to ever discuss her issues and feelings. Aegon and Aemond both go against her wishes and hurt others in the same way she was hurt. Then with Helaena she can't bring herself to comfort and help her because while she sees her younger self in her she doesn't know what to say and thinks she'll make it worse.

Throughout everything, she still loves Rhaenyra and has a faint hope they'll be able to be how they used to be when they were children. However she feels it's wrong to love Rhaenyra and that she'll be punished for it because of her faith and society. Anyway my point is Alicent's arc reads to me like she's a lesbian who suffers from comphet due to the patriarchal society she's in and she has no sense of self or freedom to really begin to accept herself.

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writingsofwesteros · 2 months

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#lost in the snow

Alicent receives a letter from her daughter alongside a raven to announce the birth of the heir to Winterfell, a sweet chunky baby boy called Arron. Arron Stark was born with a mop of dark brown hair and bright grey eyes. Truly not a hint of Targaryen in the boy, and Cregan quite enjoyed that. He knew it would spurn the greens after their distaste for Rhaenyra’s children, to see that one of their own had delivered a boy so similar to her half-sister.

Sweet Princess writes all about how Cregan was by her side, holding her hand and soothing her worries. He would be so attentive, brushing her hair off her forehead and placing a cool cloth behind her neck. He would sit beside her in the bed once Arron had been born, whispering praises and giving her kisses to her temples. Stark babies were known to be large and difficult to birth, but his Sweet Princess had managed well, further affirming to him how much she belonged as his wife.

She tells her mother how the ladies of the North nurse their own babes, and how she had chosen to do so as well, much to her mother’s horror. Cregan loves to see her nurse their son, her breasts full and spilling out of her gowns. He wishes to keep her like this forever. The lords know to avert their eyes when she feeds their son during feasts lest they lose their eyes - Cregan glares at any whose eyes linger on the princess too long. He loves how sensitive her breasts are when breastfeeding too and takes to ‘accidentally’ brushing his hands over her nipples when he wishes to tease her.

She takes to carrying Arron with her always, never wishing for him to be out of her sight (he’s her little pup). Her bond with her son is so different to that she experienced with her own mother and she’s determined to ensure her son knows he is loved by all. It’s common to see Cregan playing with his son as his wife sits on his lap, holding them both in his large arms. Or, for the residents of Winterfell to see their Lord and Lady wandering the streets holding a small giggling babe. Cregan truly loves his little family.

Alicent would unceremoniously faint when she receives a raven saying her daughter is with child again, not even 6 moons after the birth of Arron. ‘The maester believes it to be twins’, the Sweet Princess writes ;)

!!!!!!!!

CREGAN IS DELICIOUS !

I adore the name as well, Arron is the sweetest. Rhaenyra & Daemon will be enjoying themselves in Dragonstone hearing about all this ; it is moving throughout the realm with ease.

Cregan's praises do wonder for her; she shivers and desires more. Her clothes are hardly her house colours, just as her son was not. the slow erasure of her family roots happening in front of him.

Cregan will sit beside her as she nurses; gently placing a lock of her hair from her face whilst cooing down at his baby boy.

#lost in the snow

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spectorcomplex · 2 years

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love and war ↝ aemond targaryen x reader

you treat marriage as if it is war. who’s to say it’s not?

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!velaryon!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: cursing, targcest, reader is rhaenyra and laenor’s daughter but there are no physical descriptions. my first hotd fic pls be kind

word count: 5k words

my masterlist

You should be mourning. Truth be told, you were— an aching sadness that left you hollow as the adults paced around the room, grief heavy in the air with the loss of your Grandfather, the King. But the fear swirling in your gut overpowered sadness.

You were not oblivious to the opinions of the court, even if you yourself were not involved in it as much. Your mother’s rule has been challenged enough even when the King was alive and now the long awaited storm brewing from before might finally arrive to blow your family over.

Your mother is a strong woman, a true protector of the realm, but as you glance over at where she is stood by a window next to Alicent Hightower as they engage in a hushed conversation, you know that everyone, even her, is nervous for how the kingdoms may react to a woman ascending the Iron Throne.

She sent you and your brothers to your chambers after the funeral, heavy lidded and shoulders drooped, unfit for a royal, but she was not the Queen in that moment, but rather a grieving daughter. You hugged her good night and kissed her cheek as you often did as a child in her arms.

Sleep did not come to you yet and a history book written in High Valyrian kept you company. Until a knock echoed.

“Princess? I’m sorry to wake you but the Prince Daemon requests your presence,” The voice came from the guard stationed outside your door.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It was too late in the night and what would your step-father want from you at this hour?

Thankfully you had not changed into your night dress yet, still clad in your funeral attire, a high-neck black dress that had faint embroideries of dragons on the hem of the floor length skirt. Your heart grew heavy as you remembered the tales from your childhood when Viserys had time to indulge your requests in knowing more about Balerion.

The guard escorted you to the council chamber and you finally had a sense that this was an emergency meeting regarding the Crown.

“Sister,” Jace greeted you by the door. You glanced behind him to see your mother seated at the head of the table with a glum expression.

The sight of Queen Alicent in the room was no surprise to you, she was constantly in the presence of your family after she and your mother had rekindled their friendship. What did catch you off guard was the presence of her son, your uncle, Aemond. He was the only one of Viserys’ other children present in the room.

You wondered if Aemond too was feeling grief for his father but there he was seated, proper posture and a stoic face, the candlelight casting a sharp shadow over his features. The complete opposite of your plump cheeked younger brother Lucerys, who was slouched and yawning in his seat.

Jacaerys helped you into your seat and looked equally unnerved as you, though you were not sure if the reasons are the same.

Daemon entered after a few minutes of silence. You noted that only family was present in this room.

“Daemon, what is this about?” Your mother asked with a sigh.

“The coronation is tomorrow,” Daemon began to explain but your older brother interrupted with a scowl on his face.

“Exactly, which is why the Queen needs to be well rested for the ceremony,” Jace had been standing up to your step-father a lot more recently and you admired his ferocity.

Daemon glared back, “There’s already whispers. Unsatisfied, doubtful, craven Lords who may not fully cooperate in this reign.”

You could only frown. This exact scenario was what plagued your thoughts ever since you learned of the King’s passing. No one expects the passing of succession to go smoothly, but to be interrupted so soon?

There was a purpose as to why Daemon called this meeting; why only family was present. You racked your brain as to think of a way to help but none came to mind. You were a second child whose influence came in the form of what your dresses looked like instead of what you have to say.

“We need allies.”

All eyes turned to look at Aemond. His voice made it clear that he was speaking a matter of fact.

Your step-father looked hesitant to address the younger prince but this was no time for revisiting petty prejudices of the past.

“Precisely,” Daemon nodded. “And if I recall correctly, you’re already in the talks of a marriage pact to Storm’s End. We would have sent dear Y/N but there are no sons there to vie for her hand.”

The first part of his sentence went over your head as your nose flared in offense. “Is this why I was summoned here? To be shipped off to spend the rest of my life being miserable with some stupid Lord?”

“Watch your mouth,” Your mother finally spoke, though her words were not what you hoped for. You looked at her in despair and you were met with pity.

“I get to have a say how my life goes,” You stand up, furious. “I am a princess of this realm!”

“This realm you speak of will descend into chaos if you refuse to help your mother.”

His words were carefully curated, constructed together to hit the tender spot in your heart reserved for your mother. You were already defeated in the matter of your liberty despite your stubbornness to pursue an argument.

“I can help in other ways,” You said.

“How? By the way of the sword?” Daemon’s nature was to always pick a fight and even his children were of no exception.

“No need for violence all the time,” You match his scoff. “Diplomacy is an option and—“

“And diplomacy is to secure good relations with others, like marriage,” His tone was nearing a growl and you did not want the already exhaustive night to take a turn for the worse.

“Alright,” You clenched your jaw. “For my mother—for my Queen.”

You looked at her, a glint of what you hoped was admiration shining in her eyes. She mouthed a thank you.

Curious eyes followed you as you approached a guard stationed by the door. He nodded at your request and quickly returned to you with the item at hand.

You unfurled the map of Westeros on the table.

“Only if I get to choose which Lord I will be betrothed to,” You said. “It must be a very strategic alliance that will greatly benefit the Crown if it will cost me whatever joy I have left in this life.”

As everyone peered at the inky outlines of the seven Kingdoms, a rogue stare strayed from the map and settled on you.

“You look ready for battle, my Princess.”

Your uncle’s whispered quip startled you so much that a breathy laughter escaped your lips. His sour relationship with your brothers had strained your own relationship with him. As children you would even play games of chasing each other when your respective lessons were done for the day. A few hearty laughs were shared if you saw Aegon stumble down a set of stairs, both too young and naive to know about the sensation of drunkenness.

But now, years after the incident that forever changed the dynamics within the family, he seemed like a stranger. The boy you knew was gone and in his place stood a man with the mind of a scholar and the skills of a knight. You swallowed as your gaze met his.

“Is marriage not war, my Prince?”

His lips raised imperceptibly but you caught it. Though, you wish you hadn’t as your heart defied logic and started to race.

“Well?” Daemon’s voice sliced through the tension and even if he was irritating you, you were relieved for the interruption.

Your nimble finger pointed south. “There is a Martell son. Though they would see right through us if I was offered up to him. But if they did choose to look past that, we may even have the chance of strengthening the bond with Sunspear.”

“Wait-wait,” Alicent spoke, her motherly gaze meeting yours. “No need to treat this as if it were the Stepstones, sweet girl. We can arrange a tour and maybe a love match may—“

“With all due respect, Your Grace, but a tour requires weeks of planning for travel on all parties,” You gave her a grateful smile. “We do not have the privilege of time on our side regarding this matter.”

You were not the closest to Queen Alicent after all these years of animosity, but you could tell she was trying and these were her true colors that your mother cared for when they were young.

“And a love match is—“ You frowned. Even if marriage had always been a distant thought in your mind, you had always hoped that you would marry the one you love. But having that in this world is much rarer than dragons who breathe blue fire.

“A love match is not possible,” You breathed out. You cast a glance at Daemon, who was nodding in approval. You were on the path of making right decisions until your eyes landed on Aemond across from you and the mistake was letting his already-there stare have feelings rise within you.

You only shook your head before pointing back at the map.

“This one also seems feasible,” You say as you circled the shape of an archipelago with your finger.

“The Iron Islands, sister?” Lucerys, who had been awfully quiet for quite some time, finally spoke.

“I’m a Velaryon,” You spoke with pride, though a distant sadness ached at the memory of your late father. “And you, dear brother, are heir to Driftmark. Our family can have control over the great fleets in both seas surrounding Westeros.”

Mumbles of approval filled the air and you thought that, this is it, you’ll officially be surrendering to the water in which you came from.

“A Greyjoy?”

Prince Aemond is awfully opinionated tonight, it seems, and your fatigue was morphing into irritation.

“Is there a problem with them, my son?” Alicent asked.

Aemond scoffed, “The only eligible one for the Princess Y/N to marry is skilled at sea but useless on land.”

“What seems to be the problem with that?” You asked, always having had admiration for the skills it requires to be great in ships. Traces of the fond memories of your father and grandfather’s lessons.

But even if you were the one that spoke, Aemond refused to look at you. His gaze even seemed directed at your parents.

“The Greyjoy son is even more bunglesome than the lowliest tourney knight,” Aemond explained, voice cool and turned your temper to flare. “How will he protect his wife? With a knotted rope perhaps.”

And the most unexpected happened, both your brothers laughed at the remark. It was a sight from your childhood years that you never thought you’d get to see again. You elbow Jacaery’s side.

“As much as I would hate to agree with him,” Jace whispers in your ear. “He does not lie, sister. I’ve sparred with the Greyjoy boy before.”

“Well,” Your mother spoke, voice commanding the attention of the room. “We keep our options open.”

You sigh quietly, eyes starting to droop and eager to get this meeting over with. But you were determined to secure a stable turnover from King Viserys to Queen Rhaenyra.

“Alright,” You cleared your throat, feeling warmth slowly flood your cheeks as your finger pointed upwards of the map. “The North.”

“Not just the North, I think,” Lucerys piped in, a familiar mirth in his eyes. “You want to be Lady of Winterfell.”

“I do not!” You really wish you had composed yourself instead of succumbing to your sibling’s teasing because now all attention is on you. Except one, as you see in your periphery.

“Cregan Stark,” Daemon hummed in contemplation. “Not an awful choice.”

That’s basically a seal of approval coming from him.

“There’s no sense to a marriage pact with them. Northerners are honorable people, they won’t break faith to Rhaenyra even in doubtful times,” Alicent offered.

The conversation was slipping from your control and you need to grasp it back for this was your freedom as a woman at stake.

“Still wouldn’t hurt to have the largest region in Westeros, your Grace,” You said. “Plus, he is Jacaerys’ friend and I’ve met Cregan on quite a few occasions. He is… a gentleman.”

“You think he’s handsome.”

Oh, you were definitely going to smother your brothers in their sleeps tonight.

“He is smart,” You backtracked, the same rogue stare from earlier now back on you and burrowing deeper under your skin. “Already groomed to rule over his lands.”

“Alright, we start with the Starks,” Your mother said, the back of her hand rubbing over an eye. “His father will be at the coronation and if we’re lucky, Cregan will also be. But for tonight, we will all get rest.”

That would probably be your favorite order from the Queen.

“I am to fly to Storm’s End the day after tomorrow,” Aemond’s deep voice was like the thunder in the place he was to visit. “Your Grace.”

To anybody else, they would not be able to catch the subtle look of surprise on your mother’s face, but you could tell because you were probably mirroring her right now. Your uncle Aemond’s disdain for your side of the family had never been in question. To address your mother like that even if he’s made it so perfectly clear that the inheritance should pass onto Viserys’ sons was worthy of suspicion.

“Alright…” You saw your mother hesitate, “Brother. Good night, my family.”

That last interaction was what made you so sleepy at the celebration after your mother’s coronation for it kept you up the night before. You were restless after the cordiality your family presented each other and every now and then you think you’re a fool for hoping it would last for a long time.

But you were lying to yourself. You knew damn well the presence of Prince Aemond was what had you twisting and turning in your sheets. Your annoyance towards his incessant need to tap his fingers on the table, smug smirks, and opinions on your future marriage was a way to cope with the wave of nostalgia you felt every time you cast a glance at him.

Aemond had always known how the royal family is above others, even back when he still had both eyes and a childish grin. His words tonight reminded you of the time when you were seven and Aemond nearly growled at the Baker’s son who gave you a plucked flower from outside the castle.

You however found sleep after a few tears dropped at the loss of those innocent days, letting go of the prospect of Valyrian Dragonglass and finding marriage in another House.

—+—

Some Lords were confused at the serious faces of House Targaryen. Most of them were rowdily whooping and clapping after the coronation. But being a royal of this realm meant you had to be smart in assessing a massive gathering of all the nobility in Westeros.

Daemon had reminded the family in the morning to be wary of the doubtful Lords he had mentioned the night before.

You all had a better look at the attendees at the celebratory feast Alicent insisted on having in order to ‘lighten spirits.’ To no one’s surprise, the Martell son was nowhere in sight.

You sighed from your place at the table that was raised on the dais, overlooking all the nobility starting the night with wine filled cups. You grimaced as you heard your Uncle Aegon’s slurred words start already.

The poor dress that was custom made for you is currently suffering from scratch marks from your anxious fingers. The Greyjoy table was full of men who looked older than your own parents and the aforementioned weakling in swordsmanship is nowhere to be seen.

“Good eve, Princess Y/N. You look beautiful tonight.”

You startle as you see the Greyjoy you were looking for by the other end of the table.

“Just tonight, Sir Rickon?” You jest like old friends even though you knew nothing but his name and status.

He didn’t seem to think you meant no harm as he started stuttering, “No-I- you look beautiful all the- I’m terribly sorry.”

“I only jest, my Lord,” You say through gritted teeth and muster a convincing smile. Though your snickering elder brother at your left was seeing right through it.

“Yes, alright,” Rickon clears his throat. “May I dance with you, Princess?”

You sigh, the sound thankfully lost in the noise of the hall, and nod. You grabbed his outstretched hand, calloused and littered with small cuts.

“Have you sailed recently, my Lord?” You asked as the two of you got into position.

Rickon’s face seemed to lighten at this and you put all your Velaryon knowledge to the forefront of your mind.

“It has been two moons since then, Princess, we traveled to King’s Landing by road,” He explained.

That was pretty much the meat of your conversation with Rickon Grayjoy. He was an average dancer and a worse conversationalist. Not good for diplomatic relations.

Dornish wine had never been as appealing to you as it is now. As soon as the music ended, you rushed back to the family table and grabbed a goblet for yourself with enough quickness to even surprise your drunkard Uncle Aegon.

Unbeknownst to you, another uncle was watching warily.

“Slow down, niece,” Aemond’s voice broke through the noise of the hall.

You only roll your eyes and stumble back to the dance floor. Though you do get a sense of deja vu at Aemond’s words.

These were the times in which a listener would find this memory hard to believe to be true. Too fictional to believe— as if it is meant to be a story immortalized on a tapestry. A speck of a memory that is so different from how the Targaryen family is with each other now. But you remember; girlish giggles and scuffs of shoes echoed throughout the stone walls of the Keep.

You were summoned to the Dragonpit to start learning how to command your young dragon. Love for books had nothing against your excitement when Ser Harwin called for your attention. Your Uncle Aemond was in the library with you, equally enamored with his book about dragons of Valyria and you asked him to accompany you as to see the real thing compared to illustrations on paper.

“Slow down, Princess!”

You only snickered at Aemond’s warning. He only had a few years ahead of you and thought his prepubescent voice could scare you into submission.

Despite being born and raised in the Keep, you have not yet developed muscle memory for every crevice in the castle and your foot slipped on a crack in the pavement.

You plummeted to the ground, though your hands reached out to stop your face from colliding with the floor. Tears immediately flooded your eyes as your palms skidded on the gravel, following a sting and warm wetness which was most likely blood, and an ache surged in your twisted ankle. Stubbornness ran thick in Velaryon blood and you refused to cry in front of any of the boys but the pain was too much to hold it back.

‘What did I tell you?’ You expected Aemond to say with a disappointed tut. But he only knelt next to you, brows furrowed as he helped you sit upright and inspecting your bloodied hands.

He had one arm tucked under yours as he patiently helped you walk back to the main grounds of the Red Keep in which he then barked at Ser Criston to fetch a maester to tend to you.

Aemond sat next to you and rested a gentle hand, still free of callouses from handling swords, on your forearm as the maester applied ointment to your scratched palms.

He never told you how much it stung when you didn’t do the same for him on that fateful day in Driftmark.

“Princess.”

The firm voice broke you out of your wine-induced memories.

“Lord Cregan Stark,” You curtsied.

The smile you greeted him with was genuine compared to Lord Greyjoy. Though the conversation from last night put a falter in your grin.

You wanted to see Cregan as a friend, build a relationship on a foundation free of ulterior motives. But the plans made are needed to be put into motion to truly secure Queen Rhaenyra’s reign.

“May I have the pleasure of dancing with you?” He asked and you wordlessly nodded as you felt the warmth flood your cheeks. Though your recollection of that day in your childhood added to the dizziness from the wine.

Cregan was an excellent conversationalist, complimenting your dress and hair and still managed to verge into topics deeper than surface level small talk as you twirled to the music. He would make a good husband, you think. Though your heart dropped for a split second that this would not be a true love match if a wedding was to happen. He would be a good ally.

“Have you caught up with Jacaerys yet?” You inquire, looking him in the eye to keep his attention.

He started to answer enthusiastically and despite how much you complimented him the night before in front of your closest family, you could not fully appreciate Lord Stark and despite trying not to, you found yourself comparing him to the one eyed prince.

“…Like a brother to me,” Cregan finished with a smile.

Your eyes flickered to his mouth before returning to his sparkling brown eyes. He would make a good husband, you repeat in your head. Dark features and lips chapped from the harsh winds of winter.

“That is good to hear,” You nod, switching to diplomatic mode immediately. You had to seal this partnership tonight. “That our families have a bond with each other.”

A look of knowing flickered in Cregan’s eyes, almost as if he knew what you were insinuating or about to propose.

Cregan leaned in, too bold a move for a public dance between a Lord and a Lady, “Yes. A bond.”

Your breath hitched at his actions.

Someone cleared their throat and you nearly jumped in place.

“Lord Stark, would you mind dancing with the Lady Floris Baratheon?”

You huff when you turned in Cregan’s hold and saw Aemond standing there next to the two of you, lips in a fine line. Said Lady Floris was next to him, almost looking defeated. You had to hold the urge of cursing Aemond out. What he said was not an offer but a demand.

Cregan did not look phased but still obeyed the Prince after bowing, “I’d be honored to.”

When the dark haired pair drifted into the rest of the dancing crowd, you scowled at Aemond.

He was not bothered by this and placed a firm hand on your waist. You gulp.

“What are you doing?” You hiss. A defense mechanism to emotions beyond irritation towards the Prince swaying with you.

“Flirting is beneath you, niece,” He says in that low voice of his.

“You know my intentions with Lord Stark and why,” You answer, the grip you have on Aemond’s leather clad shoulders turning tighter in aggression. “And you should be with the Lady Floris to finally get Storm’s End’s approval.”

Aemond only hummed as he spins you out and pulls you back in, “I’d rather pluck my other eye out than to have Borros Baratheon as my father-in-law.”

As if on cue, the raucous laughter of the Lord of Storm’s End echoed in the hall. You both grimace.

“Then who do you wish?” You chuckle, though not lightheartedly. “Daemon?”

You scoff after saying your step father’s name. It was evident how much Aemond idolizes him despite his denial. All from the hair down to the ego.

Your knees weakened when Aemond didn’t look phased by your jab, he even rather looked amused and that was a dangerous thing.

“What are you saying?” He smirks and your blood runs cold when realization crept in.

“I only meant Baela or-“ You stutter.

“Who are both already betrothed to your brothers.”

Damn it! That smug smirk only seemed to grow wider and you swear you growled under your breath. You redirected the conversation.

“You have a choice, I do not,” You start. “I do not understand why you would say yes to a marriage pact when you could just forge an alliance over a goblet of wine.”

That seemed to put Aemond back into his stoic self. Despite the silence, you know he was forming an answer in his head.

“I have to protect my mother.”

Your cold facade melted a little bit. You understood where he was coming from with this.

“I do too,” You answer, making sure your voice was not as confrontational as it was a few seconds ago.

“You do not understand to what extent,” And with this, Aemond completely lets go of you even though the music was still playing.

He leaves you on the dance floor and you hate how it left you with a tinge of sadness.

But like children, you follow after him to pester more about his thoughts. This was how it was back then, you knew Aemond had the tendency to conceal his words but with a little push, he’d spill. Hopefully it will still work.

You follow him to the dark corners of the hall, ignoring the inquisitive stares of the others.

“Then make me understand,” You say. “Aemond.”

He only stops at the soft whisper of his name. Though he keeps his back to you, this does not deter you from moving closer. You knew he felt you, a tenseness in his body that an untrained eye wouldn’t notice. But this was Aemond, you just knew.

“It is not their loyalty to the Crown that is in question. It is their worries that there will be a civil war.”

He let you sit on the words. Aemond never underestimated your intelligence; he may have thrown shallow insults ever since the rift between your side of the family and his but he never doubted your intellect.

You sighed as it hits you. The atmosphere has now changed, yet you both are still players in the big picture. Even as royals, you are pawns in this game and the name one carries assures your survival. The loyalty to Targaryens is undeniable so now, who knows what they will do to a Hightower?

“Viserys is no longer alive, she is not Queen anymore,” He continues.

The son who took up ensuring the family honor. The eldest was never to be relied on and Aemond had made sure to be the child that would protect his mother. Rhaenyra was lucky to get sons and a daughter that will put her honor in mind before they act but the former Queen was not afforded that luxury.

Alicent was never the warmest towards your family, but she was faithful to duty and did her best to ensure the family survives especially in the final days leading to her husband’s death. Even through conspiracies and whispers, she focused on keeping her children well without subconsciously excluding you and your brothers.

This is what Daemon was pushing you for. Duty. To do right by your house and protect it to the death. You understand now.

Aemond is not the type to believe in baseless rumors. He approaches the thoughts of those fellow politics with a clear head and if this is what he deems as important then you’ll defy your side’s expectations and stand with him.

“We are Hightower and Velaryon,” You say. “But most importantly we are both made of fire and blood.”

He turns to you then. Once again, torches illuminating intimidating features. Lilac eye glowers at you but you stand ground. Like you said, the same magic swirls in both your veins.

“I understand,” You continue in his silence. “I understand what we need to do whatever it takes for the blood of Old Valyria to endure.”

Alliances with other regions would be great, but if Aemond’s word was to be trusted you know that it is not enough. Banners will be raised behind two women who have no intention of fighting because of men’s beliefs. You will not let this tempest sink your family under.

In order to protect the most important people in your life, enemies must be slain. A marriage bound by love is a rare gift— but a marriage for duty is a weapon.

Aemond shakes his head at you and despite the pull, you resist from having your shoulders drop in defeat. Your mother may have been called the realm’s delight as a little girl but she now sits the Iron Throne and it is inevitable for her to be called a cunt by those who refuses her reign.

“I know what must be done,” You take a step forward toward Aemond. This is it, he could either make or break a pact that will ensure House Targaryen’s stability and hold on the realm. The tension between these stone walls could rattle a dragon. But never the two of you. “Do you?”

“You know damn well,” Aemond whispers. You’d be a fool to deny how he’d look at your lips just then.

You raise your chin, “Pār gūrogon issa naejot zaldrīzesdōron se mazverdagon issa aōha ābrazȳrys.”

Then take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife.

aaaa hope you enjoyed! reblogs and comments are appreciated :) i’m not the biggest expert on asoiaf lore but im really spiraling into learning about it lol but pls feel free to drop a message anytime!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd

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witchofhimring · 4 months

Text

Being (Young) Alicent's friend and helping her with anxiety

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of self harm, depression, childbirth

Also includes reader and Alicent's friendship with Rhaenyra.

-Alicent had always been predisposed to anxiety. Even as a small girl it was noticeable that the only daughter of Otto Hightower showed an unusual amount of stress. She rarely confided in anyone and mostly kept to herself. Only her mother, Rhaenyra and Y/n knew if it. Though this was mostly down to observation than willing divulgence by Alicent. Ever since she was a young girl you had noticed her odd habits. The most obvious was nail picking, leaving faint bloody residue in the cuticles.

-You tried to help, sewing her cloves to wear. For a time it helped and Alicent stopped. But then the heat picked up and gloves were no longer an option. Not to mention it brought unwanted glances from passers by. Sometimes you held Alicent's hand when her hands began to twitch.

-Things became worse when Alicent's mother passed. She was thrown headfirst into a world with no mother to look up to. Rhaenyra and yourself tried to help. But while you could sympathies, there was not empathy as neither Rhaenyra nor you truly understood. There was a sudden divide as Alicent seemed to grow up quickly. While Rhaenyra and you stayed children Alicent had to navigate a new, terrifying world.

-Alicent's anxiety became worse. No longer could Alicent run to her mothers room in the dead of night when worry became to much to bear. In truth the bedroom belonged to both her parents. But Otto was up late most nights. Alicent's mother would soothed her daughter until she fell asleep. Alicent knew her two friends would listen. But anxiety had a way of clinging to her throat, shutting it closed. Whenever Y/n or Rhaenyra tried to talk about it she withdrew and they got the message. Only it was the wrong one.

-It as not as if Alicent did not want to talk about it. But her throat seized up and ears burned on sensitive eyes. One day she was walking around the Red Keep, alone. When she reached the grounds Alicent spotted her two friends. Y/n and Rhaenyra were talking in low voices, though not so low that one who wished to hear the contents could not strain their ears. She had the sudden feeling that this was about her. Creeping closer, Alicent listened. A flush stamped her pale cheeks. This was wrong but she had not the bravery to interrupt the conversation. "Do you think she will ever talk about it?" Y/n's body was closer to Alicent's, just feet from where she stood. "I don't know. Should we press her? It might help to talk about it." Was Rhaenyra's reply. Y/n shook her head and Alicent's stomach dropped. "On her own time would be best." Rhaenyra agreed and their conversation turned lighter before the girls decided to raid the kitchens for lemon cakes. Together they made a dash towards the kitchen, not knowing Alicent had heard.

-You noticed she had become even more withdrawn. At first you tried to abstained, worried over crossing boundaries. That did not mean you didn't try to help. Kindness was shown through small actions such as convincing her to take long walks in the garden or having sweets. You kept Alicent busy to that grief and anxiety did not overwhelm her.

-Over time Alicent seemed to get better. Everything wasn't perfect, but progress was good enough. You made you to whisk her away to some adventure every morning. Although she never initiated any conversation about her loss or anxiety little slipped out here and there. Each time you listened intently, allowing Alicent to divulge at her own rate.

-The loss of Queen Aemma was horrifying. Not just because of the manner in which she passed but the sudden blanket of grief Rhaenyra was cast under. The three of you would pray in the Sept, although Rhaenyra did not share the same Gods. But what option did the three of you have? As Alicent put it "My own father does not know the language of girls either." It became a routine of the three of you hiding away. Sometimes it was just crying, other times it was reminiscing over those lost. It was not just the loss of those close, but the death of girlhood.

-What happened six months later ripped everything apart. You noticed Alicent become more anxious. During the night she was gone and were left looking around the palace. When you asked why she was exhausted in the mornings Alicent proclaimed it a lack of sleep. But you knew her well enough to know this was not true. Something was wrong. You did not burden Rhaenyra with your anxieties as she was battling her own demons. When speaking to Alicent failed you supplied her with tea and cakes. The two of you would eat and drink in silence.

-The day came when everything came apart. Rhaenyra and Alicent had been called for a meeting with the King. Left behind, you were waiting in anticipation. After what felt like forever only Alicent returned. Her hands had angry red lines dragged over them. "Alicent.' She stood there swaying and then puked. Quickly cleaning you up, Alicent was prepared for bed. That night you stayed by her side. It was only the next day that you were told Alicent was to be Queen.

-Life was spent between Alicent and Rhaenyra. Alicent had become like a statue, cold, unfeeling. She hardly uttered a word to you or anyone. Only the swollen cuticles of her finger let you know her true thoughts.

-As Queen, while Alicent better hid her anxiety, behind closed doors things were different. You would read to her. Alicent had stopped talking about how she felt. It became harder to know what she was thinking. Once Aegon was born things got worse. Rhaenyra and Alicent had little to no interaction.

-Over time Alicent would become a shell of her former self, and there was little you could do about it.

Notes: I might do headcanons for helping older Alicent with anxiety at a later date. I just don't know the exact headcanons and what will happen to reader. This has been in my drafts since January so I am glad to get it out.

#alicent x reader #alicent hightower x reader #alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagine

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justinalovee · 1 year

Text

𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒆𝒔

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen × Reader × Daemon Targaryen

Word Count: 995

Warnings: Incest, oral sex, threesome, masturbating, anal sex, mild humiliation/praise

Summary: Rhaenyra is made to apologise to her wife in an unconventional way

A/N: All characters are 18+ and consenting! minors DNI

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said…”

The look you give Rhaenyra causes her to pause; sheepishly, she presses her lips together. You had overheard her laughing when some lord made a crude remark about your cousin Alicent. Although you and Alicent never saw eye to eye, you had strictly forbidden any mention of her, your uncle Otto Hightower, or Aemond. Since all three of them had been punished for their crimes of treason and for almost killing Lucerys, you didn’t see the need to mention their names again.

Rhaenyra stands with her hands behind her back, waiting to be told what to do. A warm breath lingers against the back of your neck as Daemon struggles to contain his composure from behind you. Your husband's hard member was buried deep into your ass as you sat on his lap, which should have been a lot more painful, but you felt mainly pleasure due to the many orgasms he had given you before using you as a cock warmer.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at your flesh with his teeth. You feel his smile grow against your skin. “What punishment do you have planned for her? Something wicked, I presume.”

You can’t help but smirk; you always loved toying and teasing Daemon in the bedroom. If he wound you up enough, you would spend hours pleasuring him but stop each time he was about to. Sometimes this would last all night before you let him cum deep inside you. But Rhaenyra was different; she was a lot more sensitive than Daemon and wouldn’t enjoy the same type of punishment. Intimacy was the one time Rhaenyra could forget that she was the queen and enjoy being told what to do.

“We could spank her ass until it’s red, but she would enjoy that.” You lock eyes with Rhaenyra. “Wouldn’t you, my queen?”

She nods.

“I could tie her up and gag her. That way nobody could hear her screams as you used her for your own satisfaction.” Daemon whispers while groping at your bare breast, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Your own personal whore to fuck whenever you like.”

While letting out a moan of pleasure, you watch as the silver-haired beauty before you tries to discreetly squeeze her legs together. It gave you an idea.

“What do you want, Rhaenyra?”

A faint smile pulls on her lips. “To be yours, Esmé, and for you to use me how you like.”

You raised your brows, amused by her answer; usually she was a lot more bratty. “Take off your clothes and lay on the bed.”

You place your hand on top of Daemons, removing it from your breast and lowering it to your core. Getting the hint, he slowly begins to rub at your clit, saying, “Naughty girl, you’re wanting to put on a show.”

“No, I want to see one,” you say quietly. You watch as Rhaenyra removes the last of her clothes and lays back on the bed, her legs spread wide open. The chair you and Daemon were both on wasn’t far from the bed, which meant you were close enough to see the sticky wetness that had been dribbling down her legs. “Touch yourself, but do not cum.”

Rhaenyra immediately slid her finger between her silky folds, spreading the wetness up to her clit before inserting her finger.

Slowly, you begin to rock your hips, causing Daemons to let out a deep moan. Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel a knot start to build in your lower abdomen. The position you were in had you feeling so full and empty at the same time; Daemon must have been thinking the same thing. You let out a whine as he slid a finger inside you. “My dear wife, you won’t be able to watch with your eyes closed.” He kisses your cheek and says, “Look how close she is to cumming already.”

Your eyes snap open, and you watch as three fingers disappear into Rhaenyra’s tight hole, causing more wetness to drip from your own. Daemon's skilled finger finds the right spot inside you as your hips start to buck faster. “Fuck!”

The room is filled with nothing but the sounds of skin slapping together and high-pitched moans. Rhaenyra’s legs begin to tremble, but she removes her fingers before she can reach her orgasm. “Good girl,” you say, motioning for her to come over to you and outstretching a hand for her to take. When she reaches you, you take one of her fingers into your mouth and taste her sweetness. “You taste delicious; now let Daemon lick the them clean.”

When Rhaenyra steps closer to let Daemon suck on her fingers, you latch your mouth onto her breast. You suck on it until you hear Daemon say, “Perhaps you would like to taste something as well? Get on your knees for our wife.”

Your hands tangle into Rhaenyra’s hair as she kneels in front of you and starts lapping at your pussy. She dove her tongue between your folds, lapping at your juices, as Daemon began to bounce you on top of him, his fingers digging into your thick thighs.

“Daemon,” you gasp, feeling him twitch inside you. Your legs begin to tremble as the coil tightening in your lower stomach snaps at the same time he comes inside you. Daemon rests his head against the back of your neck as he catches his breath. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close so he doesn’t slide out.

When your legs finally stop shaking, Rhaenyra looks up at you; her face is glimmering with your slickness. Her lilac eyes blown wide with lust, she licks at her lips before pressing kisses on your thigh.

“Have I gained your forgiveness?” She asks.

You gently cup the side of her face and say, “Yes, sweet girl, you are forgiven. Now you can make yourself cum.”

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house-strong · 2 years

Text

— DRAGONS BANE ʾ ⋆

CHAPTER ONE — arrogance and goodwill.

glossary ; chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six.

summary ; the war of the greens and blacks is almost underway and the great houses of the realm are picking sides. queen alicent needs the reaffirmation that house tyrell, the seat-holders of highgarden and wardens of the west, will not flock to the cause of princess rhaenyra.

pairing ; enemies-to-lovers!aemond targaryen x tyrell!reader

warnings / notes ; aemond is a bully and throws insults at you and it’s your first day! what fun. mentions of war and death. typical canon violence and scheming. reader is often called tyrell-esque nicknames; little flower, sweet flower, etc. p.s - helaena hasn't married aegon yet, i don't think i made that clear.

a fortnight ago, a raven came bearing the mark of a crowned, three-headed dragon.

“the crown summons you, lord randyll of house tyrell and warden of the south, and your esteemed daughter, to king’s landing. we humbly ask for the service of your daughter as a lady-in-waiting to the princess helaena targaryen.”

it was no secret that the dragons caraxes and syrax have been frequenting the skies of the plains of the reach. the crowned heir, rhaenyra targaryen, and her prince consort, have been going back and forth with your lord father. what their conversations were about, you didn’t know, but there was one thing you were sure of; someone was to be married.

the road to king’s landing is one that bored you; the ripening fields of the west had passed by in a blur, endless heaps and fertile hills morphing into vast, simple plains. in the distance, you can make out the faint pinnacles of mountains.

king’s landing is quick to come within sight. with towering red walls and a well-guarded fortress, it caused you and your father to share a look of dismay. the carriage continues through the road, endless arrays of beige and brown buildings taking up the space of the sky. highgarden was a beautiful place, one that surely looked better than this.

the carriage is pulled into the castle walls, where targaryen banners fly proudly in the sky. the roar of a dragon causes you to peek out the window; overhead, a massive shadow of a dragon covers the clouds above king’s landing. within seconds, the beast breaks through the gray-shield and lands somewhere in the distance.

“it’s alright, sweet flower. this’ll all be over soon.”

you want to tell your father that what he says isn’t true. it won’t be over soon. an invitation to king’s landing, one that was a demand rather than a request, did not mean that you would be able to go home so easily. no doubt that they knew your father was in correspondence with the princess rhaenyra.

the convenience and timing of their request was an invitation enough to ignore their letter, turn the parchment to ash and flock to the safety of princess rhaenyra’s wings. though you did have to admit, even her word could not overpower the word of a queen’s.

you want to pull your hair out, claw at your father, and beg him to return to the safety of highgarden. though an honorable man, you knew he would do no such thing. if the royal family wanted the presence of house tyrell, you had no choice but to obey.

the carriage had pulled to a stop and the gentle hand squeeze of reassurance from your father did not do well to quell the feeling of distraught in your stomach. sickness begins to crawl over your skin. nonetheless, as a dutiful daughter, once the carriage doors part and your father exits, you swallow the lump in your throat and take his hand, allowing it to help guide you down.

now standing in front of it, the sheer height and regality of the red keep does not fail to take your breath.

“come, my daughter.” into the dragons den, you thought.

you follow your lord father wordlessly up the steps and into the halls of the red keep. targaryen household guards line almost every entrance, adorned in black and red armor and a shining dragon. you do well to keep directly behind your father, following his long strides with one’s that you tried to equal. soon, his steps slow to a halt and he bows at the presence of another man. you can’t help but notice the pin on his lapel; otto hightower.

“my lord hand,” your father greets. he turns, a smile forming on his face when he makes eye contact with you. he extends his arm out to you, pulling you into view of the hand of the king. “may i introduce my daughter, lady (y/n), the joy of highgarden.”

you allow yourself to curtsy under the watchful gaze of the hand, giving him a small, polite smile despite the uneasiness in your stomach. he seems satisfied by this.

“a beautiful, splitting image of her late mother,” the hand remarks before motioning for you and your father to follow. you both share a look before trailing after the hand. “the king is not feeling very well at this moment, however, the queen and her children have gathered to introduce themselves.”

that mere sentence could not have prepared you for the ginormous double doors that swing open with relative ease, the long hallway of the throne room in full view. what a power play, you thought. four heads are gathered at the base of the iron throne; three bear the famous silver hair of targaryen children and the other has brown, curly locks put into a neat bun. two household guards part the way and one announces your entrance.

“the lord hand of the king and lord randyll tyrell, warden of the west and lord of highgarden. with him, his daughter, the lady (y/n) tyrell.”

still, you and your father follow ser otto and the iron throne becomes closer and closer. you’ve never seen it up close, but the mere light that reflects off it’s twisted and gnarled handles indicate it’s sharpness. what an ugly thing.

you and your father stop at an appropriate distance and are abandoned by the hand. instead, the hand moves to stand by his daughter.

from the silence that settles in the air, you hear, “what a lovely chest she has.”

quiet, but not quiet enough, your eyes shoot toward the speaker and it’s the closest one to the queen mother. you lock eyes and do your best to not make a disgusted face at the way he’s eyeing you - like a predator to its prey. you quickly become uncomfortable. pulling at your dress, you attempt to make yourself small.

then, a concealed sneer falls from the lips of the man farthest from the queen and on the other side of who you assumed was princess helaena. donning an eye patch, he doesn’t hide the small, sly smirk that quirks the corners of his mouth up.

“thank you for traveling all this way, my lord. we are grateful for both your dedication to the crown and your trust with the safety of lady (y/n).” it is now queen alicent who speaks. eloquent words fall from her mouth, one’s that your father happily drinks up. you give him a side eye, watching him converse with the queen mother.

as they talk, your eyes can’t help but gravitate towards the targaryen prince that sneered. with long, silver hair tied back with a leather bound, and dressed in hightower colors, his singular eye returned your stare. unwavering and unblinking, he watches you carefully, almost as if inviting you to a stare down. you grow flustered under his gaze and break eye contact, your eyes drawing themselves to the floor.

introductions had been made, but you didn’t pay attention - something you were sure would come around sooner or late.

“aemond, my son. why don’t you show lady (y/n) around the keep?” the question from his queen mother breaks his trance and he turns his head. aemond was the only one his mother had trusted; aegon was a force too untrustworthy and his sister, well, the queen didn’t want to scare away the lady-in-waiting so soon.

aemond gives a defiant glare and scoffs when he realizes his mother was serious, he says in a low, but not low enough voice, “is that not a job for a steward, or dear helaena herself?” how offensive. you and your father share another look, his brow quirking slightly and begging you to stay silent. who did the prince think he was?

it’s otto hightower who speaks next. it’s hushed, but still audible and commanding, “do as your mother says, aemond.”

aemond grumbles something under his breath that is not audible to you, his head turning as he stares at you once more. you turn to your father and give him a quick hug, placing a delicate, chaste kiss on his cheek.

“bye, my sweet, i’ll see you soon.” another string of words that reaches deaf ears; this felt like another lie. each step you take towards aemond feels closer and closer to a trap waiting to be set off. aemond joins you at the bottom of the steps and disregarding his station and duty as a gentleman, he walks past your extended arm and instead leads the way. wordlessly, you follow without hesitation. behind you, you can hear the squabble between alicent and who you assumed to be aegon.

your hands gather behind your back as you follow aemond’s long strides throughout the keep. his walk has a certain swagger to it, one that screamed arrogance. you decided that, even now, with so little evidence to backup your feelings, that you did not like this.. prince. you quicken your steps to become side-by-side with him. you quietly curse to yourself when you realize you’re on the side that has his eyepatch.

“you are.. aemond targaryen, yes?” you ask, though it seems like your question doesn’t reach his ears. perhaps his ear was damaged in his.. incident? you repeat your question, your words louder than before.

he moves his head obviously and so slowly that it unnerves you, and he blinks his good eye at you, annoyance veiling the once solemn expression he had, “the one and only.” how pretentious. besides the sound of heels and boots clicking against the floor, silence befalls between you two again.

after a moment, “i’ve heard that you ride the ginormous beast.. vhagar, is that true?”

“queen of all the dragons, yes.” if he didn’t make you feel inferior before, then by seven hells, he sure did now. you huff in annoyance and defeat, eyes surveying the castle walls. you two pass what seems to be a courtyard, one that has an open roof where sunlight beams down. a few more paces and you pass a corridor that has stairs leading up, you assume that’s the stairs to one of the royal apartment towers.

“and that’s how you lost–” assuming the subject is touchy, your sentence is quick to be interrupted by the abrupt turn of aemond, who grabs your wrist and faces you with wild vexation in his one eye.

“do not assume that we are to be friends,” he begins, looking down at where his hand met your clothed arm. he releases it as if he was burned by the mere touch. the words that flow freely from his mouth drip with poison. “i do not like you, and i will not like you.”

once his words register in your mind, you’re quick to allow offense take over your mildly shocked expression, then your brows furrow in anger, “have i done something to offend my prince?”

my prince. aemond does little to not show that he despises the title you’ve called him.

“i don’t make friends of oath-breakers,” he sneers. oath-breaker? who, in sevens hells, was an oath-breaker? surely, he didn’t mean you? even if he did, what oath did you break?

“oath-breaker?” you echo loudly, bewilderment replacing the angry scowl on your face. “tell me exactly, my prince, what oath did i break? why do you assume i’m trying to be your friend?”

these questions falter aemond’s facade and he desperately looks for a way out. as a prince, no one dares to question his word. he hadn’t been clever enough to think ahead, less think that you would be defiant against his word, and now being sharply questioned by you, he didn’t know what to say back. too many assumptions and too less of evidence, aemond scowls at you.

“you’re asking me questions as if you want to be my friend.”

you scoff in disbelief, “i’m asking you questions to be cordial, not to be your friend. cordiality seems to be something you lack.” aemond’s eye widens with bafflement, but his face returns to an angry facade.

“do not presume to tell me what i lack,” he spats. the one-eyed prince turns on his heel and walks a few paces away, though, he’s quick to return to you with long strides. “you are here by the graciousness of my queen mother and as a gift to my dear sister, helaena. you will fulfill your duty and leave. until then, we are not friends.”

you throw your hands up and scoff loudly, staring at the prince in anger. perhaps unladylike and unbecoming of a handmaiden to the princess helaena, you roll your eyes.

“fine.”

aemond wants the last word, so he repeats it back with an equal ferocity, “fine.”

with that and an aggressive spin on his heel (the ends of his coat seem to dance in the wind with some sort of rare regality, though you wouldn’t admit that), aemond targaryen abandons you in the courtyard.

“what an imbecile,” you finally say to yourself under your breath.

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #dragons bane #my writing

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