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#that face is the actual Iron Throne
andy-clutterbuck · 18 days
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The Ones Who Live | 1x03 - Bye
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backjustforberena · 1 year
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what I really loved (yet another thing to be quite honest) about that fireplace scene between Rhaenys and Corlys is that nothing is said out of anger. There’s no anger in either of them, not really. 
Also: Steve Toussaint’s face when he’s saying that line about this brief, mortal life!!!
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historiaxvanserra · 3 months
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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of
Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader
Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).
I hate making Feyre the bad guy but I promise i'm not making her the villain and I plan to have her side of the story later on (rhys also isn't the villain)
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The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.
You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice. 
You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory. 
“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.” 
You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.
“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.
“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”
You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe. 
It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think. 
“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”
The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red. 
Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you. 
“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”
Your avenging angel.
Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement. 
The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name. 
She knows your name. 
“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses. 
The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 
In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here. 
“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts. 
“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”
“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.
The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.
You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity. 
“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”. 
You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.
Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment. 
The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.
Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.
The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove. 
Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark. 
He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.
In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty. 
Otherworldly and ethereal.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.
“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.
Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps. 
His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes. 
The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens. 
“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow. 
“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.
You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.
“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.
    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait. 
“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.
“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.” 
“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles. 
“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again. 
Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.
“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls. 
This house is something truly breathtaking. 
It feels like a home you realize. 
“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son. 
“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms. 
As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother. 
It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…
The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.
Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp. 
Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it. 
“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.” 
“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”
That had been long before him. 
You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence. 
“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense. 
“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”
Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark. 
The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer? 
You want to live. 
The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.
“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.
“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--” 
“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse. 
You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.
Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you. 
It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.
“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her. 
“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”
“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms. 
“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”
“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you,  “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.” 
The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious. 
“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.
“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.
You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye. 
“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you. 
It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect. 
“I don’t think that's a good--” 
“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean. 
“Rhys--” You warn gently. 
“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him. 
He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.
Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.
“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.
Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement. 
“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.
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solarsa1nt · 2 months
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𐚁֙࿐ APPEARANCES
ryōmen sukuna x fem!reader
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Tags — fluff , cuddling , innate domain , soft sukuna
Notes — none
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It's ironic, Y/N supposes.
How one of the most insufferable beings to her was the one who brings her the most comfort on nights like these.
There was an unspoken arrangement— Y/N wasn't sure how it even started, mostly remembering vague images through the tears that had blurred her vision that night.
Of the sea of blood that coated the ground beneath them, of the ribcage trapping them inside like the cage, of the soft white of the kimono she clung onto.
Y/N shifts her leg so her calf was no longer pressing into one of the sharp horns that constructed the throne they were atop of.
The arms around her waist tighten at the action, unconsciously pulling her closer as a small sigh leaves Y/N's lips.
She didn't even know Sukuna could sleep. Y/N thinks to herself, unamused gaze tracing over the curse's features— vaguely noting how they seemed sharper than Yuuji's.
Actually, he seemed to be overall different than Yuuji. Sure, it's undoubtable that they looked uncannily similar, but Sukuna makes Yuuji seem older— the way he wore Yuuji's skin was so different that after truly looking at him, it's a surprise that they're meant to be identical.
And their faces... Y/N raises a hand, curiosity making up her expression as she goes to grab his face— wanting to tilt it to get a better angle.
Her plans come screeching to a halt as a tattooed hand grabs her wrist.
The hold was tight, yet somehow not painful. Two red eyes peer open, the bottom pair narrowed at her as the main set stays closed.
"And what do you think you're doing, brat?"
Y/N stays silent, continuing to stare at him wordlessly as her lips part slightly in surprise before closing once again.
The top set of eyes eventually open to glare at her directly, puddles of red that showed mild annoyance mixed with something unreadable deep within them.
"..Your face is different from Yuuji's." Y/N voices her observation quietly, as if she were still only just processing that fact herself.
"Oh? And that's what made you grow bold enough to touch me without permission?" Sukuna questions, yet still lets go of her wrist, allowing it to fall between them.
The one hand still around her waist tightens, the other raising to lean his head against as he continues to stare at her.
Y/N blinks back at him with an unfazed expression, "Is it because of the amount of fingers he consumed? Can you alter your appearance— if so, why only slight changes? Could you return to your original appeara—"
"Enough questions." Sukuna cuts her off before she could voice the rest of her thoughts.
An agitated frown tugs on her lips, but Y/N remains reluctantly silent. She knew what limits she could and couldn't push— she couldn't bring herself to risk whatever was going on between them.
Moving his hand that was propping up his head, he pushes her head against his shoulder— momentary confusion stemming from Y/N before she decides just to accept whatever was happening.
He's comfortable, so who is she to complain?
Vaguely, Y/N wonders how anybody else would react if she told them about using the king of curses as a pillow— a comfortable pillow, at that.
Well, whatever, it's not like she plans on telling anybody about this. Ever.
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© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad
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yoru-no-seiiki · 9 months
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VILLAIN! READER WITH A YAN! MASOCHISTIC! PROTAGONIST
tw/cw: DDNE, mentions of abuse, actual abuse (by reader), implied parental neglect. protagonist’s gender is whatever you want it to be. gn pronouns.
[ second part ]
MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU.
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You wholeheartedly believed that you’d rule the world one day. The oracles deemed it so, and the rest followed. The only problem being is that you’d rule with an iron fist, causing the death of millions under your tyrannical reign. Many opposed your position as heir to the throne.
In comes the protagonist, your adopted sibling who is also destined for great things. The difference being is that they’ll gain it through defeating you.
Everyday is a murderfest with you trying to kill the kid but because of plot armor they’re resistant to any and all sorts of spells, weapons and even people you’ve hired.
Yan! Protagonist who had been abused their entire life saw this as just an act of love. Even moreso since you were so determined to hurt them everyday. It must mean you adored them does it not? They don’t understand why they’re not able to die or properly get hurt by you though, so at times they’ll even try to get in your way to make it easier.
But this just ends up with you hating them further and further.
As the two of you grow up, tactics start to become even more underhanded and deadly. You had lost all sense of empathy and kindness at this point. You had also halted trying to hide your attempts as your sibling clearly knew of it anyways.
But with your duties increasing as well, you are unable to execute much of your assassination attempts much less see your sibling directly. It came to the point of dull poisoning plots of which Yan! Protagonist had literally gained an immunity to with how frequent it was.
Yan! Protagonist never wanted to become ruler. A kingdom was far too much to manage and think about. All they wanted was to relax and be with you.
But with you being all busy and ignoring them. . . they simply can not stand idle and let this be!
And so they throw themselves into their studies. Those that doubted the Protagonist are now in awe of the way they picked up things in addition to their overflowing determination. They must really want to take you down.
Unbeknownst to them, they were simply doing this so you’d go back to giving them your attention.
Years after you’d officially taken the throne, they barged into castle. Thousands of troops behind them as they declared,
“Exalted sibling, I’ve come to take the burden of the throne from your hands!” The protagonist stood before you in all their glory. Magnificent as the scriptures had foretold. Absolutely befitting for the next in line for the throne. Blessed with a face sculpted by the gods.
You wanted nothing more rip it from their skull and watch the blood rain down on their regal clothing.
“You’ll have to take it from my cold, dead body.”
The protagonist froze in their tracks. Your words and pure confusion taking a while to settle in.
Wait, what?
. . . to be continued
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Anyways that’s just a smol part from one of my webtoon ideas i’ve been writing haha. It probably won’t be expanded on until I officially published that one and it’s like further down the list of webtoon order so oop-
©️ yoru.no.seiiki - yun | 2023
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howdoesagrapewrites · 4 months
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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕
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Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.
Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent
Taglist: @faesspace
>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud
>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life
>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything
>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian
>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother
>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks
>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out
>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you
>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to
>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum
>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.
>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene
>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did
>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off
>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king
>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen
>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking
>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours
>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there
>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark
>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited
>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill
>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her
>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you
>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"
>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him
>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent
>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"
>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him
>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"
>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours
>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words
>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly
>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing
>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone
>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong
>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half
>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela
>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did
>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him
>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her
>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm
>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you
>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three
>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys
>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up
>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted
>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'
>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"
>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting
>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison
>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you
>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys
>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out
>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange
>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food
>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback
>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered
>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone
>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died
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aemonds-sapphire · 1 year
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Reassurance
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Summary: You give birth to Aemond’s daughter, and immediately worry as a male heir is always preferred. But it seems that you might have underestimated the man you were married to.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: Fluff. Comfort. Aemond showing how attentive he can be.
Word count: 1k
Warm tears streamed down your flushed face when Aemond finally walked into the quarters. The handmaidens hurried around you, cleaning and whispering words of comfort at you and the babe.
But your tears weren’t of pain. Not for the most part, at least.
“It is a girl, my prince,” one of them informed him with a bow. “As healthy as can be.”
You looked away before you could witness his reaction.
Disappointment, most likely.
Male heirs brought safety and stability. Should Aemond ever need to replace his brother on the iron throne, it’d be best if he had one.
The other handmaiden brought a rag damp in hot water to brush away the sweat, as you tended to the child in your arms who’d squirm and cry out occasionally as she settled into this new world
Aemond came to sit by your side, but you kept your head low, not wanting to face him.
“Are you well?” He whispered, placing one hand on your arm.
Nodding, you kept on rocking the child, not trusting yourself to utter any words.
Queen Alicent came walking in shortly, bearing the kind smile you had grown accustomed to.
“My sweet girl, you did so well,” she hurried to your side, placing a tender kiss on your forehead before shifting the attention to her granddaughter. “Oh, she is so beautiful… Aemond, take a look.”
Your husband shifted closer to finally meet his daughter, and you felt your heart clench.
“She has your hair colour,” the Queen’s smile deepened at the sight of thin and unruly silver hair.
Aemond nodded, eyes fixed on the wriggling babe in your arms. “The blood of the dragon is strong.”
His mother then leaned to peck his cheek. “I’m so happy for both of you. There’s no bigger blessing than a child.”
You met her eyes and bowed your head lightly, genuinely appreciating her words of kindness.
Gods know you’d need them.
“I’ve arranged for the dragonkeepers to bring an egg to be placed in her cradle,” she whispered, caressing your hand with hers, but you noticed his expression shifted. “I will now leave you two to it.”
He, too, had once had a dragon egg keeping him company, but nothing had come of it. The egg never hatched, and Aemond Targaryen was to remain dragonless for years to come.
With a tender squeeze and final look at your daughter, Queen Alicent took her leave.
Aemond’s eye was still fixed on the tiny bundle of cloth with turfs of silver hair at the top.
“Do you want to hold her?”
He seemed unsure at first, but nodded, taking his daughter into his arms.
You had managed to lull her into calmness, but she soon broke out crying, bringing two restless arms to break free from the cloth.
“Hmm,” he said, wincing lightly from the shriekd. “You are definitely a dragon.”
At this, you couldn’t hold back the grin on your face. “She’s perfect…”
“My prince, the babe is hungry. Should I fetch the wet nurse?”
Aemond lifted his arms to her, but you halted him with one hand. “No… actually, I would like to… try…”
The young girl bowed nervously. “Of course, my lady. Allow me to help the babe to latch properly,” she offered, taking the young princess from Aemond’s grasp and placing her to your chest.
Aemond promptly aided in lowering the chemise, and you felt your heart soar from such attentiveness.
The moment your daughter latched, the young handmaiden smiled widely. “It is a good latch, your grace.”
You two sat in silence for a while, until you were finally able to muster the courage to speak.
“I apologise, my prince…”
Aemond’s eye lifted from the babe and landed on you. “What for?”
“I’m sure you expected a boy.”
He sat upright, seemingly taken aback. “Do you think that lowly of me?” he said in a strained voice. “She is blood of my blood.”
Your heart clenched. “I…”
Aemond wasn’t one to show emotions as easily as others. He’d rather bury all them them deep.
You were aware of this, but you’d seen your fair share of men throwing fits over having only daughters.
“You gave her to me,” he carried on. “Whatever you can give me, I will willingly take and protect.”
There were subtle traces of hurt on his face, and you felt the dread of guilt wash over you.
“Aemond…”
He shifted closer to you, taking a damp cloth to your forehead. “You have my utmost respect for giving birth to my daughter. Our daughter,” he quickly added.
Your heart hammered rapidly against your rib cage from the many emotions that took over you.
This time, your tears were of pure relief.
“You still need to choose a name,” you said in between sobs, clutching your daughter closer to you.
He shook his head, before planting a kiss to your lips. “We. We do this together.”
Aemond Targaryen might have grown up without the love and affection from his father, but your daughter would not share the same fate.
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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months
Text
Traded Posession
Dark!jacaerys x reader
A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭
Pt 2 here
TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink
word count: 1,656 words
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They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.
The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.
The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s
men are the ones to find you after your
failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.
This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.
You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.
“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.
When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”
Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.
“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.
A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.
“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.
“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.
“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”
You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.
“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”
The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”
“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”
You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.
“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.
You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.
“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.
“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.
“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.
“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.
“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.
The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”
Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…
“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.
Stupid like biting his cock off.
He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.
“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”
You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”
Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”
You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.
“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”
“Over what, your Grace?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.
“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.
“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.
“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”
“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.
“Say my name when I fuck you.”
“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.
“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.
“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.
“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.
“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.
taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy
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shanastoryteller · 4 days
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Happy Valentine's Day, Shana!
Can we get more from F is for Frankenstein? Or more 3 faced Goddess? (More of the Iron Man stuff basically. I don't even really go there anymore, but your writing is so great)
a continuations of 1 2 3 4
The thing is, Rhodey would actually prefer it if Tony didn’t come for them, if he didn’t risk his life by walking into what is so obviously a trap meant to kill him, even if it meant both he and Steve died instead.
Morgan is a child still, far from ready to take the throne, and Pepper would manage but at the end of the day this country needs its king – need Tony, not only doing the work that he is to win this war, but as a son of Stark, as a member of the family that’s ruled for over a millennia. Even to those that believe the worst rumors about Tony, his presence on the throne is still a comfort, still a sign that the Goddess hasn’t forsaken them. Morgan won’t be viewed the same. She’s too young.
At the end of the day, he and Steve are just soldiers. They’re far more replaceable.
Beyond that, these are the people that made Tony swallow a star. They don’t know he’s the Iron Mage, but they probably assume that the Iron Mage is going to be nearby anyway, and are preparing for it. Which means Tony will have the element of surprise going for him
But when he was nineteen, Tony kissed him under a peach tree, tasting of the fruit they’d shared, and neither of them have looked back since.  
When the situations had been reversed, Rhodey hadn’t given up, hadn’t stopped looking, and if they’d offered him an invitation like they’re offering Tony, he would have taken it regardless of the danger. And he’d like to say he did all that for his king, but he wouldn’t have gone to nearly as much effort for Greg, for Howard.
He did it because it was Tony.
And not an ounce of logic or sense is going to keep Tony from doing the same.
Not that there’ll be any. Pepper probably didn’t even hesitate, he thinks fondly. They’ve been friends and partners too long. He’d tell Tony to go after Pepper too, even while wishing he wouldn’t come after him now.
“Why are you smiling?” Steve asks warily.
Rhodey rolls his head to the side. Steve is eight years younger than him, six years younger than Tony, and most of the time Rhodey doesn’t notice the difference. He’s seen more war than Rhodey has, after all, and has some mannerisms that remind him of his grandfather. He ages slowly, thanks to the sorcerer’s enchantment, but enough people have spelled themselves with a false youth that it’s not jarring enough to be noteworthy.
Right now, he looks even younger than he is, tired and wary. Rhodey would have thought his resignation would make him look older, but instead if brings to mind every child that’s found themselves trapped on the battlefield.
“It’s going to be alright,” he says gently. “He’ll come.”
Steve grimaces and looks away. “Even if he does. They might just kill us anyway.”
They might, but their sorcerers are skilled enough to read the enchantments tangled on top of both of them. Tony would know if Rhodey was dead. They performed that spell long before Tony ever sat on the throne. Which means they’ll keep them alive at least long enough for Tony to see them, which is probably all the time he’ll need.
But that’s nothing he can say to Steve, nothing he’ll understand when he doesn’t know the king is Edward and the Iron Mage both, so he tilts to the side until their shoulders are pressed together and hopes Steve finds comfort in that.
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shuttershocky · 8 months
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When I say "when it comes to Type-Moon lore you should think about the whys and not the hows" I mean things like it's absolutely pointless to ask "How did Merlin get Saber and Fate route Shirou to meet again in Fate/Stay Night's epilogue? That should be impossible." and I'm sorry but you're never going to have a real answer to that beyond Merlin vaguely saying "You must be able to wait forever and he must chase you forever"
Nasu never bothered thinking about the how at all. The reason it can happen is because Fate loves the idea that the connection between two souls can exist as a fundamental force of the universe that rivals space and time, and Merlin is a fuckin wizard. To love even as time has stripped their name and face from you, to have forgotten everything but the knowledge that there was love once, wouldn't it be beautiful to witness it outlast eternity? Wouldn't it be beautiful if for your whole life and afterlife you become a nameless, wandering hero, only for the star you've been chasing forever to finally call you home by name?
There is no real answer for How. All there is, is symbolism of the story's themes and a participating wizard.
How did Mash come back after being incinerated by the fire that burnt all of time? Her heart never wavered which meant her shield never did, proving that she too could be every bit a hero as all the souls saved in the Throne despite having never lived a normal human life, and this act moved the heart of a creature every bit a Beast as the demon that destroyed all of time. Why and wizard.
How does Hakuno even manage to summon a servant and participate in the Moon Cell Holy Grail War despite actually being an NPC and thus not even being alive and human? Well Fate/Extra wants you to question what being "real", being human, really means. If you wish to live, enough to cry for help and for a hero to come to your rescue and to feel gratitude to them, does that make you human? When you fight for your life in a death game even when you realize there's no existence for you outside of the machine, are you human? Why, and a conceptual, really big wizard in the Moon Cell.
How did Mikiya meet the manifestation of the Root and be offered a single omnipotent wish? Well you see everybody in this entire literary world kills each other and all passersby for a chance at glimpsing the source of all existence so it would be incredibly ironic if a normal ass man who's sole thing is being a wifeguy and getting beaten up a lot is offered the entire universe by doing nothing, thanks to his wife turning out to BE the Root itself, thus being the wizard behind wizards.
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loveinhawkins · 9 months
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Once they’re far enough away from Angry Hicks Land, Erica rifles through the supplies before finding the bag she’s looking for. She throws it at Eddie, only for him to immediately fumble the catch.
“Wow,” she says. “You’d be immediately kicked off the basketball team.”
“Uh, my talents don’t exactly lie on the basketball court,” Eddie says—his tone is dry but his face is slightly flushed in embarrassment.
“Huh,” Erica says. “Guess Lucas is multi-talented.”
Steve chuckles in approval from the driver’s seat—hopefully not too loudly; yeah, she’d defend her brother to the hilt, but she doesn’t want to get too ridiculous and actually have him overhear her.
Thankfully he seems in a world of his own, sat with Max and Dustin at the back of the RV. His eyes keep flickering over Max and her Walkman headphones.
He’s frowning. He’s been doing that a lot—Erica’s sure he’s had a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead since the year began, probably before then, too.
She wants to iron it out. Doesn’t quite know how to.
The bag rustles as Eddie opens it up. “Um. What’s in—?”
“Essentials,” Erica says.
Eddie blinks. “Sinclair, this is a belt.”
“Your jeans are very sad,” Erica tells him pityingly.
Steve cackles. Eddie’s blush deepens, and he jabs the back of the driver’s seat with his elbow.
“You having fun over there, Harrington?”
“Oh, tons,” Steve says.
Erica laughs. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.
Once they’re parked outside, she half-loses track of him while correcting Lucas’s abysmal attempt at spear-making. He’s there in the corner of her eye, rough-housing with Dustin, but her thoughts turn vague and distant as she double knots the rope.
A little while later, she’s lying on her back, stretched out in the grass. She can faintly hear Lucas and Max having an arm wrestling match, Dustin providing old-timey sports commentary.
A shadow falls over her.
Erica sits up.
Eddie’s standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing the bullet belt, the metal glinting in the sun.
“Whaddya think?” he says.
Before she can reply, he actually does a full-blown twirl, and it’s maybe one of the most embarrassing things she’s ever seen—which is definitely saying something.
She can’t help the fond smile from breaking out as she rolls her eyes. “Well, at least you’re dressed for the part.”
“Coming from you, Lady Applejack, that’s the highest of compliments.”
Eddie flops down next to her. He leans across and picks up something: her spear. She’d actually forgotten about it, just for a moment.
“Not quite a kukri, huh?”
It’s meant to be a joke, Erica can tell—but she can still hear the tension in his voice. He tosses the spear aside.
A sinking feeling she’s been pushing back makes itself known again; she wishes this was all just a game.
Eddie’s eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking something similar.
Erica nudges him. “What’s up?”
He shrugs. “Just thinkin’, Sinclair.”
“Hmm. Seems rare for you.”
Eddie snorts. “Shut up. S’just…” He sobers. “Had this whole… plan. I forgot.”
“About?”
A smile. “You. You were gonna, uh. Be it. If you wanted.”
Erica raises an eyebrow.
“Um. The, uh… the leader of Hellfire.”
Eddie’s fingers drum nervously on his knees. Erica takes pity on him.
“You do know I’m eleven, right?”
“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” Eddie says with a fleeting grin. “Your introduction is seared into my memory goddamn permanently. No, I was gonna… there’d be stand-ins till you got to high school, like whoever wanted to try out… And you’d be the official, uh—”
“Next in line for the throne?” Erica says wryly.
Eddie laughs, but it’s short-lived—he soon turns thoughtful again.
“Sure. Now I’m thinking, what, eleven, twelve…” He counts on his fingers. “Yeah. By the time you start high school, maybe that’s just enough time for people to not lose their minds about…” He smiles weakly. “Hey, maybe don’t call it Hellfire under your reign.”
“Oh, so you think I’m chickenshit,” Erica says.
“No,” Eddie says softly, and suddenly he’s not half-joking; he sounds deadly serious. “Just don’t want you to—y’know, be mixed up with…” He trails off.
Erica’s not told him about what happened at the town hall, but from the way he’s talking she suspects he knows at least a little.
She wants to be able to snark back at him, you really think Hawkins will still be talking about you years later? Please, you’re not that important.
But the thing is, she can’t know that for sure. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.
And that scares her.
Something else mixes with the sinking feeling in her stomach. It’s cold and unstoppable: the righteous fury she felt in the hall, as grown adults condemned a boy they did not know, when she’d figured out within barely five minutes of meeting him that he was all bark and no bite.
“Was gonna give you an open invite to Hellfire, anyway,” Eddie’s saying—almost under his breath, as he twists blades of grass around his fingers. “Like, just whenever you could make a session. I was gonna ask you, obviously, but… Was gonna write up, like, solo adventures your character could be part of whenever you couldn’t come. Same for Lucas, if he—”
“Okay, did you actually tell Lucas that?” Erica asks knowingly. “Or did you just think it?”
Eddie shifts guiltily.
“You need to tell him,” Erica says—remembering the week before Christmas that she’d accidentally broken his mug; they’d fought, and Lucas had eventually slunk into her room, somehow convinced that he’d been completely at fault. “Otherwise he just gets all quiet and thinks he’s done something wrong.”
“Noted,” Eddie says quietly. Contrite.
He looks off into the distance at the ongoing arm wrestling match and sighs; falling onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, he says, “Thought I had all of Spring Break to figure shit out.”
“And what’re you doing right now?” Erica says pointedly. “Get planning, Eddie The Banished.”
Eddie huffs. Smiles. “Okay, okay.”
He lapses into silence. It makes Erica think that he isn’t just dwelling on ideas for a campaign. There’s a crease between his eyes—and maybe it’s a different kind of frown than the one Lucas wears, but it’s a frown all the same.
She gives him a moment, then pulls out a blade of grass and pokes him in the cheek with it.
He lifts his arm off his face. “Hmm?”
Erica holds out her hand. “I’m making the arrangement official.”
“The arrange—oh.”
Eddie sits up, blinks, blinks, blinks.
Oh, honestly, Erica thinks. He’s one of the most soft-hearted people she’s ever met.
She waits until he takes her hand before saying firmly, “To the future of Hellfire.”
Eddie smiles again, and his lips shake just a little at the edges. “The future of Hellfire,” he murmurs.
They shake on it.
“Seems like a fair trade,” Erica adds. “You get a belt, I get your club.”
Eddie laughs, puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.
“Erica Sinclair,” he says, eyes bright with affection. “I’d give you the whole goddamn world, if I could.”
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andy-clutterbuck · 20 days
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gh0st-t0wn3 · 18 days
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I finally had time to make proper designs for the Trio!
Redson: Ver 1
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Ver 2
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I couldn't decide on if I liked it better with the braids or not so I just posted both, but anyways!
I gotta admit, I used to not like the idea of redson having Bull features (except for a small pair of horn maybe) but the concept really grew on me and now I really love it and wanted to try making my own design and I'm really proud with how it turned out.
I would've added more scars, since Guanyins throne pierced his entire body, but there came a point where it just looked like there was too much going on so I had to get rid of a few scars to tone it down, so we're just gonna say they faded over time, okay? Okay.
I also made him Miao (one of the largest ethnic minorities in southwest China) on PIF's side, and Mongolian on DBK's.
The Miao ethnicity of China has a long history, rich culture, and an ancient folk religion. Adorned in beautiful traditional clothes, possessing natural talent for singing and dancing, they live in uniquely designed indigenous architecture, which I think fits perfectly with how I imagined Princess Iron Fan and with her; Redson.
As for DBK being Mongolian, I saw someone else talking about this headcanon and I just liked it so I decided to use it, I don't really have a specific reason for it, I just thought it fit, not sure why though, it's just one of those things that makes sense even if you don't know why, you know?
Mei:
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I made her taller and gave her a long dragon tail (like really long, it drags along the floor if she's not holding it up), though her scales are pretty much everywhere across her body they're most noticeable on her shoulders, thighs, and face (they're a bit hard to see in this photo because they're kinda hidden behind her hair, but I did give her scales beside her eyes)
I also gave her horns these little spiral designs around them, gave her sharper nails, and designed her ears to look like coral, since she's a water dragon and I thought they looked cool.
Honestly idk what else to say about her design, I didn't have anything specific in mind when designing her, I kinda just had to wing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)
(I also made her Bengali, on her dad's side, but it's not really important or has any reason behind it, just a headcanon I've had for a while, don't know where it came from though)
MK:
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Alot of people have speculated that the monkey form we see during the fight against Azure in season 4 isn't MK's full form yet, that we're just seeing a fraction of what he's yet to become, based on the fact that while he has the weird side burns, the tail and the face marking, he also lacks a natural skin tone, they didn't give him a proper nose etc, so I wanted to play with the idea.
I decided to make him this strange mix between human and monkey, leaving him pretty much human with the addition of his tail(s), and weird li'l monkey feet.
(I was also gonna give MK more arm/leg hair, it was in my first sketch, but I forgot to add them when I was doing the line art and didn't realize until after I saved it as a jpeg, so that's my bad, but I'm gonna add it in to any other art I make)
It's also a bit hard to see in this, but I designed his staff with more details, specifically adding dragon-esque imagery to the Golden ends, this is because (for anyone who's new to the fandom/hasn't read JTTW) Wukong's staff was originally one of the several pillars that held up the sea in the dragon palace, until he stole it and shrunk it down to use as his weapon.
I also did MK's clones :)
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Porty MK:
I gave him stripes of coloured hair and gave his tails all different colours, though I don't think he would actually dye it, instead I like to think that he would use that really crappy dollar store spray in hair dye (or hair chalk). I kept the fishnet clothes that I added in my originally design of him for my headcanons post, and decided to give him striped elbow length fingerless gloves.
I also gave him a cropped shirt, ripped shorts and these weird fingerless glove-esque shoes for convenience, since regular shows seem like they would be uncomfortable.
Edit: my dumbass forgot Porty's stupid print jacket 😭
Artist MK:
For Artist MK I gave him overalls and a jacket over it, which he wears specifically for when he's doing paintings so he doesn't ruin too many of his actual clothes (I know I said that this was inspod by Circusapple, which it still is, but this is almost exactly what I wear when I'm painting too, just in different colours).
I also gave him those gloves that digital artists wear so they're hands don't accidently trigger something on the screen because everyone knows that every artist just walks around with their art glove on even when it's not necessary.
Delivery MK:
I have to admit, I was never a big fan of MK's work uniform just being his regular clothes with a work jacket thrown over it so I wanted to try and make him look a little more professional and decided to instead give him a chef coat (similar to the one Pigsy wears on the show as well), with a logo for the restaurant on the chest, along with it I gave him plain black pants, since casual red jeans didn't seem very professional (I know he's just a delivery person, but if you were to look at pretty much any food corporation, even people who do deliveries have to wear uniform, so it's always been kinda strange to me that he's just in regular clothes). 
The shoes were harder to make professional given the whole "half-monkey" thing so I opted to give him the same strange fingerless glove-esque shoes for comfort and convenience, but made them plain black as well.
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megalony · 7 months
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Little Dragon
This is a new Aegon Targaryen imagine I hope you will all like, feedback is always lovely.
Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread
Masterlist
Summary: Aegon doesn't want to be King, he doesn't want to be anything, except a father. Looking after his little girl is the one thing he knows he can do. And when they all attend a ball and a fight breaks out, Aegon protects her.
Enjoy.
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"Aegon…"
A quiet grumble passed his pale lips while his body turned towards the voice he could recognise in his sleep. His arm lazily reached out until his hand could curl around (Y/n)'s hip and his legs tangled in the sheets so he could scoot closer towards her.
When he realised she was sitting up, Aegon cracked an eye open to make sure she didn't have the babe in her arms before he tightened his arm around her waist and wrenched her back down. He smiled at the squeak (Y/n) let out and he emitted another groan when he felt her fingers tangling in his locks. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and looped his leg around (Y/n)'s waist, effectively pinning her down to the bed.
"You need to get up, love." (Y/n) curled her fingers through Aegon's hair and kissed the top of his head when he murmured something incoherent against her skin.
He looked more peaceful now than he had done for the past few days and (Y/n) begrudged telling him he needed to move, but she knew soon enough if he didn't get up people would come looking for him. But when he curled around her like this, gripping her flesh tightly and rutted against her, (Y/n) couldn't break away.
This was the longest nights sleep Aegon had had in weeks. His father's failing health had taken a toll on everybody but when he passed and the crown was forced onto Aegon's head, he started to fall.
His marriage to (Y/n) was the one thing that stopped Aegon from drinking himself into an early grave. She brought the light back to his violet eyes and put colour back to his cheeks. She made him smile for the first time in years and showed him what it was truly like to be loved and not just wanted and desired as an object to move around the board. (Y/n) didn't use him for political points or push him to her advantage.
She loved him.
Then when Araela was born, Aegon perked up and changed into someone better, someone nobody had ever seen before. He loved his little girl to the end of the Earth and now they had a son, Aegon was briefly elated before he crashed back down when he was crowned King.
The ceremony took place three days ago and since then, Aegon barely spoke, barely ate and refused to leave his chambers.
He didn't want to be King, he wished Aemond was the older brother or that Aemond would just usurp him and take the iron throne for himself. He would make a better King than Aegon could ever be and he actually wanted the birth right Aegon had been given. But he was crowned now and there was nothing that could be done.
For a few minutes, (Y/n) basked in the feeling of her husband curled around her like he was one of their children and not the King, heir to the Iron throne. She raked her fingers through his tangled silver hair and kissed the top of his head as Aegon slowly started to wake up beside her.
He wanted to stay in bed all day but he knew his mother would be walking up the stairs at this very moment to come and scold him for not being up yet.
"Don't leave me," Aegon grumbled quietly into (Y/n)'s neck and he felt her chuckle vibrate through his chest and her lips on his forehead again.
"I'm just going to fetch Vaeron," With a lasting kiss to his temple, (Y/n) slowly unravelled herself from him so she could go get the newborn from the crib at the foot of the bed.
For a moment, (Y/n) thought her husband would flop back down and nestle into the pillows like a baby bird. But instead, he slowly shuffled over until he was laid on his back, propped up against the pillows. It seemed he was going to try and stay awake now and as surprising as it was, it was also relieving and (Y/n) smiled softly at him.
When he was in this sort of mood it took a lot to persuade him to get out of bed. (Y/n) never pushed him. If he wanted to sleep she would let him be and stay if he requested. If he didn't want to eat she would fetch him something to drink so he didn't make himself too ill and if he didn't want to talk, she would hold him until the storm in his mind passed over.
No one understood the torment Aegon was going through or what they were all putting him through and (Y/n), for one, would never act towards him as others did. They pretended he was being childish or having a tantrum when he was just broken and being forced into a world he couldn't function in.
(Y/n) found that when she comforted and tried to understand Aegon, he didn't try to drown himself in wine as much. He wouldn't lash out or cry or scream or throw things in utter frustration if (Y/n) comforted him and listened to what was wrong. It was something he wasn't used to, not even his mother tried to see things from his point of view anymore.
Part of Aegon felt groggy and somewhat ill from the lack of sleep he'd had this week and the amount of sleep he got last night which seemed to do him more harm than good.
But he perked up and managed to smile when (Y/n) sat down on the bed with their son in her arms.
Aegon let his head nestle back into (Y/n)'s shoulder and he feathered his lips against her neck while his arm secured around her waist so he could coil back around her again. He was sure she was about to say something if it hadn't been for their bedroom door bursting open and a flock of silver curls becoming visible near the foot of their bed.
"Kepa!"
It was as if a flame had been set alight within Aegon and the sudden change was instant and very clear. He went from curled up at (Y/n)'s side to sitting up straight with his arms out and one of the purest smiles (Y/n) had ever seen on his face. Something in his eyes sparkled instead of their usual dimness and even his posture lifted when Araela was within his sight.
The four year old clambered onto the bed and crawled over the sheets until she could reach Aegon. Her hands grappled along his legs until his arms were within reach and she didn't see the wince or hear his grumble when she stood on his thighs to get as close to him as she could.
His ring cladded fingers curled around her sides and he hoisted her off his legs so he could cradle her against his chest like she was a toddler again.
She giggled excitedly when he nestled his face against her neck and fluttered kisses on her cheek repeatedly while her arms looped around his neck to hold him closer until she was almost strangling him. But he didn't mind.
"Morning, little dragon,"
Araela gently rubbed her nose against his before Aegon sat her down on his lap, making sure the sheets were pulled high around his waist since he wasn't wearing any clothes underneath. It was frequent during the hot nights like these for Aegon to forgo clothes at night despite knowing that on most occasions, his daughter would try and find her way into his chamber in the morning to greet them both.
"Let me look at you," His words were whispered quietly against her temple while he smoothed his hands across her face and brushed her hair behind her ears so he could look down at her. She knew what he was going to say next, he could tell from the way she tilted her head up and took a deeper, bubbling breath to contain her excitement and love. "Hm, even more beautiful than yesterday, just like your mother."
Her giggle was enough to brighten Aegon's mood significantly and he tilted her head down so that he could kiss her forehead before he looped his arms around her middle and cocooned her into his chest again. This was where he wanted to stay, this was how he wanted to spend his days as King.
He didn't want to be sat on the Iron Throne entertaining the idiots of the council listening to their debates and sorting their messes. He wanted to be sat right here, with his wife and children who made him feel enlightened and worthy when he thought the worst of himself.
"I'm so sorry, your Grace. The Princess was insistent on seeing you both this morning."
Both (Y/n) and Aegon looked across to see their daughter's maid stood at the foot of the bed. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her cheeks were flushed pink and her head was tilted down to look at her feet. She was never sure how close to approach or where to look or if eye contact was even appropriate. And now, since Aegon was King and his moods were uncertain unless his daughter was around, no one knew what to do around him.
Everyone feared objects flying across the room and tempers to flare when really, Aegon didn't have the energy to do any of that. A growl was the worst they would get as of late.
"Not a problem, you may leave. The Princess will stay with us," Aegon dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He would remain here until his mother or grandfather came looking for him and demanded his presence. Until then, Araela would stay with them just like she always did when she sought out her parents. She was never far from them, no matter what was going on.
"Kepa…"
"Yes, my love?" Aegon perched his chin on top of her head while he slowly started to sway them from side to side, much like (Y/n) was currently doing while she nursed Vaeron.
"Am I allowed to the ball tonight?" Araela curled her legs up beneath her and nestled down into her father's bare chest while her fingers skimmed up and down his arms and traced the rings he wore.
Her big round eyes glanced up to look at her mother who pursed her lips to stop herself from smiling. (Y/n) knew nothing could get past her daughter. There was a ball taking place tonight, supposedly in celebration of Aegon's coronation and the only person not looking forward to it was the King himself. Aegon didn't like events being about him and he certainly didn't want a ball in his honour when he didn't even want the throne.
But it was already arranged and taking place so he knew he just had to grin and bear it. Hopefully with his wife by his side and a glass or ten of wine in his hand, it wouldn't be too bad.
"I suppose so, besides, I don't want to go without my two girls." He couldn't see why Araela couldn't go, at least for an hour or so. It was a ball, everyone else would be there and it wasn't like the coronation. It was dancing and music and festivities, she could enjoy it for an hour and then retire back to her room with her maid.
"What about brother?" Her small hand reached out for Vaeron who was nestled in the crook of (Y/n)'s arm, slowly drifting back off to sleep.
"Afraid not, sweetheart. He won't like it," (Y/n) kissed Araela's hand before she glanced over at Aegon. "Kepa will have to pick out a dress for you to wear."
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Turning her head, (Y/n) perched her chin on Aegon's shoulder and curled her hands a little tighter around his bicep clad in the leather tunic. She had to admit, after how horrid he had been feeling these past few days and how much of a strain the coronation had took on him, he didn't let it show.
Aegon stood tall beside her, his hands held respectfully in front of him, his shoulders square and broad beneath the black leather that was draped over every inch of his skin. He wore a gold link chain across his shoulders and part way down his chest which was the only spot of colour on his clothing making it stand out more. The boots made him a little taller than he was, almost at Aemond's height. His hair was neat and tidy and brushed behind his ears and his complexion didn't look nearly as ill and deathly as before.
He even had the conquerors sword strapped to his hip, although (Y/n) wasn't sure whether that was just for show or if he was preparing for any unforseen attacks or events happening tonight.
All he needed was the conquers crown on his head and he would look as regal as he did on his coronation. But he refused to wear it. This was as regal as he wanted to look, he didn't want the crown as well.
"Shall we sit down?" Aegon mumbled the words quietly against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear before he slowly guided her towards the table at the far end of the hall.
Every few seconds, his eyes would drift around the room until he found his mother standing just beside the table, Araela stood obedient at her side with a broad smile and their hands entwined. Aegon didn't want to lose sight of his daughter, not for a second. He was counting down the time until she would return to her room and then he and (Y/n) could later retire soon. Aegon wanted this night over and done with.
"You look beautiful, by the way." To say he liked (Y/n)'s dress would be a vast understatement.
Her dress was the darkest shade of green Aegon had ever seen with streaks of gold thread sewn throughout that almost looked like scratch marks from the claws of a dragon. It was low cut down the chest and had very thin straps that hung just off her shoulders and no sleeves due to the immense heat. It hugged her newfound curves and enticed Aegon to the point he was desperate to leave the ball and tear the dress to the floor.
"Thank you,"
As they advanced towards the table, they came to a stop beside Aemond who was stood watching the event closely like he was scouting out any threats. He was always on edge, no matter where he was or what he was doing.
"Brother," He dipped his head towards Aegon before his gaze moved to (Y/n) and he gave a small smile. "Care to dance?"
(Y/n) looked from Aemond to her husband, smiling when Aegon kissed her temple before he nodded and took a step back.
"Go ahead, my love."
She knew better than anyone that Aegon didn't dance. Their wedding ceremony was the only time he had participated in a dance of any sort and although (Y/n) had loved every moment of it, she knew not to ask him again for a dance. He didn't like participating and if people started to look, it put him on edge.
But Aemond, however, didn't care if people stared. He was rather fond of dancing, it was a skill he had mastered and he knew his sister in law was fond of dancing too.
No one else dared to ask (Y/n) to dance. Aemond was the only one who did because he was the only one who wouldn't get watched or glared at by Aegon if he danced with (Y/n). No one liked the glares they would get from the former Prince and now he was King, one wrong look at his wife would earn a punishment no one wanted to take.
(Y/n) took Aemond's outstretched hand and let him guide her towards the dance floor amongst the other dancing couples. It was somewhat charming to be dancing along with everyone else, trying to blend in whilst knowing the pair of them stood out like a sore thumb. (Y/n) loved the music, it was the only reason she could tolerate such big events like these. For Aegon, he suffered through with wine, but (Y/n) drowned everything out with songs.
She wanted to dance again and again and keep going until her feet bled and the night had ended. But two short songs was enough to send her head reeling and her chest heaving which wasn't a good idea when her dress was a little constricting. It had to be adjusted after Vaeron was born and she was barely getting her old figure back yet. Although Aegon loved her figure the way it was now.
"Thank you for the dance, brother."
"My pleasure," (Y/n) gratefully hooked her hand into the crook of Aemond's elbow and let him slowly guide her away from the dance floor and back towards the high table where the rest of their family were sat.
When they reached the table, (Y/n) smiled curiously up at Aemond when a certain grin crooked along his pursed lips and his brow raised like something had just popped into his head.
She watched, intrigued, as Aemond slowly unhooked his arm from hers when she was stood next to Aegon's chair before he rounded the table like a man on a mission. When he reached where his mother was stood, pointing out various objects and important people to Araela, Aemond went down on his knees in front of his niece and held out a hand.
"I do believe no one's asked you for a dance yet, little Princess. Care to dance with me?"
Araela's doe eyes drifted behind her uncle to catch a glimpse of her parents, but the anticipation was undeniable and she couldn't refrain from grinning from ear to ear. Her maid told her she wouldn't be at the ball for very long and her father told her she would mostly stay by their side until it was time for her to leave. She had spent the last few minutes talking with her grandmother about the ball but seeing her mother dance was like a dream. It looked so fun to her even if she was only four.
When she looked at her parents, Aegon nodded with an encouraging smile he saved just for her and (Y/n) nodded and did a small curtsey to remind her daughter to do the same.
With a wobbling curtsey, Araela grabbed Aemond's hand tightly and skipped beside him along to the other dancers, a lot of whom stopped what they were doing when Aemond passed by with his niece. If there hadn't been so many people on the dance floor, and Aemond hadn't been as tall as he was, it would have been fine for him to just lean down and hold her hands while they danced.
But he didn't want people barging past or knocking into his young niece and with his height, it was easier for him to pick her up and sit her on his hip for the first dance. When a few people moved, he would set her back to her feet and let her dance to her heart's content.
Aegon felt the urge to slouch in his seat and prop his feet up on the table like he used to do during supper, but he refrained. It was an important night and so far it was going well. Some people even smiled at him every now and then and his mother looked pleased, he didn't want to ruin that. He could remain regal and restrained for one night.
He downed the wine in his glass and clicked his back into place before he leaned to the right, enough so that he could press his lips against the top of (Y/n)'s head while his hand found hers resting on her lap.
His eyes could look nowhere but at his wife and then his daughter, two of the three most important people in his life.
Something stirred in him when he saw his brother dancing with his daughter, maybe if Araela asked Aegon for a dance, he would be quick to oblige. There was nothing she could ask him for that he would deny her.
"Do you think-" (Y/n) stopped whatever she was about to say when a loud crash rattled through the hall and vibrated off the stone walls.
Her eyes that had admittedly been staring up at her husband moved to scan the hall when she felt Aegon tense and sit straight beside her. His hand clamped down on her leg and his boots dug into the floor, a sure sign he was unnerved.
There was a fight.
Someone had started a fight and as the music died down, raised voices flooded the air instead and words were spat like venom.
Aegon could feel unease and anger radiating through his blood while he pushed up from his chair and advanced round the table, feeling (Y/n) close behind him. He moved one arm to wrap around (Y/n)'s waist, keeping his wife safely stood behind his frame just in case the fight got closer or another broke out. but his other hand was already curled around the handle of the blade strapped to his waist.
This was not the time nor the place for a brawl to happen, it was supposed to be a happy occasion and Aegon had his girls here. He wouldn't have fighting in front or around them.
He wasn't sure where to look, Aegon couldn't keep his eyes focused or in check. He tried to look towards the fight since more men were piling around creating a circle around those who started it but others were jumping in. Throwing punches, pushing others to the side and using enough force to splatter blood on the stone floor.
But then his eyes scoured the dance floor where dancing couples had stopped and gathered together. Some were trying to run and leave, others were glued to the floor unsure where to go and some were shouting obscenities.
Aegon could still see his brother.
Aemond had both his hands tightly clamped down on Araela's shoulders so he didn't lose her for even half a second and her quivering frame was tucked into her uncle's legs for safety. After a heartbeat, Aemond gave her a small nudge and started to walk across the dance floor, bypassing the other people to try and reach his family near the table which was out of the way of the brawl.
When he was close enough to the brawl to see what was happening, Aegon let go of (Y/n), about to push into the circle of people until his eyes glanced back towards his brother.
With his hands still on his niece's shoulders, Aemond twisted her to the side and tensed his back to shield her from a couple of stumbling fools. But the brute force of them bashing into Aemond toppled Araela down to her hands and knees.
The four year old's scream was so delicate and quiet compared to the hustle and bustle crowding the hall but Aegon heard it as if it was the only noise for miles around. She screamed when she fell and again when Aemond hoisted her up just before someone took a step back, about to stand on the little princess.
Changing his course, Aegon ran down the steps and reached his brother just as he hurried from the crowd with simmering anger raging in his eye. If his niece wasn't so young, Aemond would have branded his sword for the disrespect and the sheer amount of people pushing past and knocking her down when they knew how young she was and more to the point, who she was.
"Come here," Aegon breathed through the words as his girl was passed into his arms and he quickly kissed her temple before rushing to place her into (Y/n)'s waiting arms instead.
(Y/n) coiled her daughter to her chest, repeatedly kissing the back of her head while she watched Aemond disappear to both Alicent and Haelena's side and escort them out before things got worse. But when her focus shifted back to her husband, she could see the rage pouring off of him in waves.
He roughly barged his way through the circling crowd until he reached the two that were still pummelling fists into each other.
The guards should be here, dealing with this, not Aegon. Instead, they were trying to move people out of the way and help escort the rest of the family out to safety. But this needed containing and Aegon's calm demanour had disappeared the moment his daughter got mixed into this mess.
If she weren't here, Aegon would have been calmer. Hell, he probably wouldn't have left his seat, he would have let the guards deal with this and with a wave of his hand he would have got them to leave and the party would continue. But with his daughter here, things changed. He wouldn't have her around when this was happening, he wouldn't stand for her being hurt or frightened like this. And if these men didn't stop within the next ten seconds, Aegon would see blood spill and he didn't care for the consequences.
"Enough!"
He barely felt the elbow to the stomach he received, his adrenaline and rage made up for the air being knocked out of him. Trying again, Aegon grabbed one of the men by the scruff of his neck and he brandished his knife in his other hand, pressing the tip so far into the man's neck that blood started to dribble across the blade.
"I said, enough!"
With a growl, Aegon tossed the larger man down on his back on the floor and pinned him down with a knee jabbed into the top of his chest. He almost smiled when he saw how hard it was for the idiot to breathe and he tilted the blade at a different angle so it was covering the circumference of the man's neck, ready to slice when and if Aegon felt like it.
"Y-your Grace…"
"My wife is here, my daughter is here and if you can't tell, that's her screaming. Do you know the punishment for terrorising my child? Hm?" Aegon snarled each word and bared his teeth, scrunching his nose as he delievered his threat by digging his blade into the man's neck and starting a small slice through the skin.
"Kepa," He would have gutted him right then if it wasn't for that quiet, shaking voice that made him sigh and briefly close his eyes. "I want Kepa!"
Aegon revelled in the cry he earned from removing the blade swiftly and tucking it back into the slot around his waist.
"Deal with them," His eyes were cold and menacing as he pointed at the two responsible who were hurriedly grabbed by many guards. "Everyone leave, now. The ball's over, get out."
(Y/n) had never heard such cold malice in her husband's voice and the dangerous look in his eyes made her knees go weak. This was how people expected him to be, this was the cunning, uncaring King everyone tried to turn him into and it was so different from who Aegon really was behind closed doors. But they had unintentionally threatened his daughter, his precious little dragon, and no one got away with that.
His family was his weakness.
The darkness sweeping across Aegon's face vanished the moment he turned towards his girls and his lips softened like butter when he reached his arms out for Araela who almost jumped across from (Y/n) over to her father. He coiled her into his chest and kissed the back of her head whilst threading his fingers through her silver curls. He could feel her shaking against him and how she curled up until she was almost the size of a babe resting against his clothed chest.
They had frightened her. Aegon hated to see her like this, he never knew how to calm her down or what to do to make it better.
When he was sure Araela was nestled safely in one arm, Aegon reached his other arm out and wound it around (Y/n)'s waist. He reeled her into his side, instantly feeling the anger melting away when (Y/n) kissed his neck and her hands found their place on his heaving chest.
Silence followed them as they walked out the hall and Aegon let his eyes fall closed, relishing in having both his girls in his arms. He wasn't going to have Araela attending any more events like this and he wasn't going to be seen at many of them either.
He wouldn't risk his family for anything.
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blossomingmoonlight · 15 days
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Under the eyes of the seven
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summary: after years of leaving King's Landing, you go back to fight for your brothers inheritance, but the tense energy grows stronger when you meet you uncle again. So what will happen when your mother Rhaenyra betrothes you to him?
word count: 3606
warnings: nsfw, violence, family hating family, hot uncles, vaginal, handjob, oral, making out, grinding, vaemond getting k!lled
Aemond Targaryen x niece!fem!reader
The ride to King’s Landing felt like months passed after you left Dragon Stone, the voyage across the sea and then the never ending ride through the land. But finally you arrived with your family, the heir to the iron throne herself princess Rhaenyra, your stepfather prince Daemon, your brother Jacaerys, your other brother Lucerys and your brothers Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon. Being the only and eldest daughter of princess Rhaenyra made you heir to the throne as well, which was a huge responsibility and one of the reasons why you were back in King’s Landing, at the very castle you grew up in. Your feelings were two faced, one the one hand you were happy to be back, on the other you dreaded having to see your uncle’s again and not to mention you step grandmother queen Alicent. 
As the two carriages stopped inside the courtyard it was awfully deserted and quiet, not something you expected as usually someone from your family’s station should be greeted by the king and queen themselves. The doors of the carriage opened and your brother Jace helped you down the steps, a few feet away your mother and prince Daemon exited their carriage as well. Your brothers followed you and your mother was greeted by Lord Caswell, whom you then followed inside. Since your mother and Daemon were to talk to the queen you decided to join your brothers Jace and Luke in the training courtyard. 
Following them down the steps in your beautiful red dress detailed with gold accents and flowers you realized it wasn’t very suited to walk around the sandy courtyard in but you decided it didn’t matter. Walking after Jace and Luke to the, what seemed to be training weapons, you decided to only spectate today. You weren’t shy of a certain amount of training yourself but you were too tired from the long journey you just made. You glanced around the courtyard and saw two men training with a group of people around them but stayed with your brothers anyway. Then you noticed your brother Luke’s uncomfortable expression. “Luke what’s wrong?” You asked him, a little concerned. “Everyone is looking at us.” He expressed, noticing the eyes of people around you three. Jace seemed to be occupied with the weapons table and just laughed. “Who cares what they think.” Jace said while picking up a training sword. “Jace is right, why would we care what they think?” You said while putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder assuringly. “Easy for you to say, you actually look like a Targaryen.” Luke scoffed, removing your hand from his shoulder. “That doesn’t matter, I know you want to look differently, but you shouldn’t give them the satisfaction.” You assured, but your conversation got cut off when there were cheers erupting from the crowd behind you. Jace and you couldn’t help but be curious who were dueling so you dragged Luke with you to witness the clearly exciting event.
As you pushed yourself through the crowd the image before you became clearer and a certain one eyed uncle came into view, you looked nervously at Jace next to you, knowing if he were to challenge one of your brothers now, he would probably end them. And then it happened, Aemond stopped in his tracks as he noticed you and your brothers. “Look who we have there, my niece and my nephews.” He said as his eyes fixated on your form, not even batting an eye at Jace and Luke. Heat creeped on your skin as you took in his tall and mature figure, he had grown into a man over the years, that much was clear. Just as you were about to say something, the gate opened and the members of house Velaryon arrived. The courtyard fell into silence as the intimidating portrait of Vaemond Velaryon came into view, followed by princess Rhaenys and princess Baela. You gave Baela a soft smile which she returned, the last time you saw her was at her mothers funeral, you felt horrible for her and comforted her and Rhaena through the service. 
House Velaryon passed by and headed inside to prepare for the petition of Lucerys’ right to Driftmark. You couldn’t decide how to feel about it all, you were certain your grandfather the king would surely back him but after hearing about his health decline you weren’t so certain anymore. You pushed this thought back when you saw your uncle walk up to you. “Uncle, how good to see you again.” You faked a smile, growing up you had a hard time getting along and you were not sure how to feel about your relationship with him after these years. “Niece, you’ve... matured I see, are you here to watch me train?” Aemond boasted, a slight smirk on his lips. “No, I just wanted to see what the commotion was about, that’s all.” You scoffed, it seemed that his ego and cockiness had only grown stronger. His hair was now long, his left eye, or rather scar, now covered by an eye patch. His tall figure towered over you as he held his hand on the sword stuck in the ground. “I see, well tell your brother I wish him luck today, he does not seem to have many people on his side.” Aemond taunted, evidently trying to get a rise out of you. “We’ll see, uncle.” You exclaimed, and with that you sped out of the courtyard, once inside the tall and impressive castle halls, you tried to get his deep husky voice out of your mind. Some time passed as people were slowly starting to gather in the throne room, preparing for the petition to come. In truth you were starting to get nervous, if Luke was claimed to be unsuited to inherit Driftmark, was your and Jace’s inheritance put to question as well? You tried to stop thinking about it but it was quite hard as the petition grew closer. 
When it was finally time, the hand was sat on the iron throne, with the queen and your uncles and aunt at her side. You stood to the front right, next to Daemon and Jace. Vaemond expressed his opinions on the matter and after some time it was your mothers turn to state her petition. But just as she started, the doors opened and King Viserys came into view, slowly but surely making his way to the throne. Luke was saved after all. The king struggled but managed to sit on his throne once more anyway and expressed his confusion on the matter, after Rhaenys had her say, the matter was settled and Luke remains heir to Driftmark. But Vaemond’s disgusted look told you shit was about to go down. “You may decide to rule your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine.” Vaemond hissed as he now almost trembled with anger. He went on. “Her children are BASTARDS!” He screamed, now he really had everyone's attention as gaspes could be heard across the room. “I will have your tongue for that.” The king sneered. But just as you were about to look at Daemon, he had disappeared from your side and before you could process the scene in front of you, Vaemond's head was cut off and rolled onto the floor, and blood painted the stone under his feet. Daemon was about to be disarmed and escorted away but he wiped the blood of his sword and left himself. And you couldn’t help but look at Aemond, an admired expression on his face. His eyes locked with yours and you couldn’t help but show a tiny smile, which he returned. The room was quickly cleared after and you were escorted back to your quarters. 
As the sun was setting, your handmaidens were dressing you for supper, by the king's request, he wanted to eat with the entire family one last time because he knew his time was near. Your handmaiden Alyssa was tightening the beautiful blue gown, with long flowy sleeves and pearls on the bodice, the corset and thick skirt of the dress accentuating your beautiful figure. Your second handmaiden Marina finished up your hair, two braids being braided to the back of your head and being braided back as one. Lastly Alyssa handed you your gold earrings to put in and Marina clasped a matching gold necklace around you. You added your favorite two gold rings on your fingers as well and headed over with your family to supper, where your step grandmother, aunt and your two uncles were already seated. A chair was pulled out next to Aemond and the guard waited for you to sit down. Feeling like you had no say in this you sat down and kept your mouth shut. Surprisingly the queen spoke to you. “What a beautiful dress granddaughter, an extraordinary color.” She smiled, the compliment took you by surprise but you thanked her anyway. When it was time for the king to be brought in everyone rose and he was put down between your mother and the queen. The king then gave a speech on how he wishes for things to be peaceful between you all and how it seemed it was time for celebration as your two brothers were now betrothed to your cousins Baela and Rhaena. 
But then your mother rose and said she wished to speak. “I have another announcement to make, after the petition today, the queen and I have come to an agreement to bind our blood. So I offered to betroth my eldest daughter (Y/n) to her son Aemond so we may become stronger together again.” At your mothers words your mouth opened slightly not believing what you were hearing, you looked at her in disbelief and her lips formed a tight line as if silently saying ‘do not oppose this’. You glanced at Aemond who looked in disbelief himself and averted your gaze to your grandfather who seemed very pleased with this. “Very good, this is how we should be. Binded by blood and stronger together.” King Viserys smiled, but as he sat back down he heaved and coughed and Alicent commanded he be taken back to his quarters to rest. Just as the king was leaving, a big platter of what appeared to be roasted pig was brought in, and at the sight of this you looked at Jace and Luke unable to keep the smirk off your face remembering years ago the prank you played on your now betrothed. Aemond caught this and stood up, slamming his hands on the table and grabbing his cup of wine. “I would like to toast to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” 
About two seconds went by before he dared say the last word. “Strong.” He ended. “Aemond.” His mother, the queen, warned. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three... strong boys.” He challenged. You looked at Jace who was about to snap. “I dare you say that again.” Jace sneered, fed up with Aemond’s words. “Why? T’was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond continued. Jace had enough, stood up and stormed up to him, punching Aemond right in his jaw. He pushed Jace to the ground and smirked at you, you stood up with fury and smacked him as hard as you could across his face, leaving his cheek red as you stormed out of the room. 
Once in the halls you raised your skirt slightly to be able to run to the only quiet place you knew in the castle. You thought you could hear someone following you but in your upset state you paid it no mind. As you descended several stairs you ended up in the dungeons near a bedchamber you used to escape to as a child. You opened its door and hurried inside, your face still hot with anger, and your heart pounding. Was this really the man you had to marry? This vile, cocky asshole? You couldn’t believe it. As you removed your jewelry the door creaked open and you turned to face the very man himself. You couldn’t believe he had followed you here. “What do you want? To throw more insults?” You sneered at him. “Don’t be like that dear niece, I was just messing around. No need to get all upset about it.” He prodded while stepping a bit closer to you. “So what do you want?” You huffed taking a step back and sitting down on the old creaky bed. “To talk about our... union, I suppose.” Aemond sighed clearly not too content about it himself. “If it were up to me there wouldn’t be a union.” You spoke and looked at him, you couldn’t help but take in his broader shoulders and his tainted face. Though even though tainted still handsome, no you thought, this man is horrible you won’t think about him this way, you refuse. “I understand, however, it seems to me like we don’t have a choice. We’re going to have to put up with each other.” He continued, now taking a few steps towards you and a slight smile on his face as he observed you, taking in your figure. “I will not put up with your insults against my family, I don’t talk about your family that way do I? Because don’t get me started on your disgusting brother.” You warned, which earned you a disappointed look from him. “So you deny it then?” He certainly seemed to want to continue to taunt you with the rumors of your family. 
“Hold your tongue.” You snapped now standing up, right in front of him, looking up in his, well, eye. “Now now, no need for threats.” He smirked. “It’s not very nice to talk to your uncle that way now is it?” He said, now very close to you. If someone were to walk in, it would be a suggestive sight. “Why? Why must you taunt me this way? Do you really hate me that much?” You asked him, you tried to control your emotions but he was a little too good at getting a rise out of you. “I hate your pretentious family, if that's what you mean.” He looked at you, his lips still forming a slight smirk on his face, it almost seemed as if he wanted you to slap him again. “You fucking vile disgusting asshole!” You snapped, finally he got what he wanted. You smacked his face again but before you could move your hand away he gripped your wrist tightly. “Those are not very kind words niece, someone ought to teach you a lesson.” He grunted, he gripped your wrist tighter and pulled you against him, causing your left hand to be on his chest. “What are you doing?” You asked him, now a bit scared as to what he might do, knowing you are completely alone and no one could hear you. “Teaching you a lesson.” He almost whispered, grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours. You wanted to push him off, you really did but as if you had no control over your body your lips started moving against his, moving your hands to his face instead. The kiss got more heated as he put his hands on your waist, pressing you tightly against him. With your bodies so close together you could feel something hard pressing against your lower stomach. He moved his lips feverishly against you and let his tongue swipe against your lower lip. You moaned at the feeling allowing him to slip his tongue inside, which you welcomed almost instantly and moving your own tongue against his. He let out a loud groan and squeezed your ass against him. “Fuck, move on the bed right now.” He ordered, and who were you to disobey your prince? 
You crawled back on the bed, laying down as Aemond climbed on top of you. He wasted no time in getting his lips on yours again, his right hand holding your cheek. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he lowered your body against yours, specifically his lower body. Again you felt something hard pressing against you. “Wai- wait Aemond, something is pressing against me.” You breathed out, having never been with a man before this entire situation was new to you. “That would be... me, love.” He whispered in your ear, a blush spread across your face, realizing what he meant. Then he started grinding against you, unable to help himself he groaned in your ear. “Fuck this is so wrong, but you just can’t help it can you niece, so hot for your uncle, fuck I bet you’ve never even seen a cock before.” He grunted in your ear, still grinding against you hard. At his words you could feel yourself dripping with arousal, you wanted more, needed more, only you didn’t know what you wanted more of. “Please uncle, please do something.” You pleaded in his ear. “Want me to make you feel good princess? Want me to make you cum?” He teased now back against your lips giving you a kiss before starting to kiss down your jaw, to your neck, down to your chest. He ordered you to sit up and he undid your dress hastily, almost ripping it due to his want for you. He removed your dress and shoes and your undergarments as well. He kissed you once more before moving his lips towards your thighs, giving small bites and licks and even sucking a couple of love bites on them as well. Finally he reached your throbbing core and licked a long stripe against your slit, causing a guttural moan to leave your lips. “Please my prince please I need more.” You begged, his tongue now lapping against your clit making you beg and beg for more. He started moving his tongue faster, occasionally putting his tongue inside your hole before sucking on your clit and entering a finger inside you, to prepare you for his hard cock. 
When you seemed accustomed to his finger he curled it a bit and started moving it right against that spongy spot that makes you see stars. The movements on his fingers, in combination with his tongue lapping on your clit you came hard, screaming his name, feeling your juices leak all over his fingers and the bedsheets. “Seven hells that was…so good.” You gasped, trying to calm down from your high. Aemond smirked at your words and removed his shirt, along with his boots and pants. Wanting nothing more than to finally be inside you. “Are you going to be good and take my cock princess?” He uttered while climbing back on top of you. “Yes, yes please I’ll be good uncle, I’ll be so good for you.” You moaned as you felt the tip of his cock against your clit. He grabbed his dick by the base and moved the head slowly against your soaked slit. “Fuck you feel so good, such a good girl.” He groaned against your lips. You almost screamed as his tip entered you, a mixture of pain and pleasure overcoming you. As he bottomed out he stayed still for a bit to let you adjust and stretch around his hard cock. 
“Are you okay?” He decided to ask, he wanted nothing more to just fuck you dumb already but wanted you to feel good as well. “Yes I think so.” You mumbled, a light layer of sweat on your skin, your hair now messy and sprawled on the pillows, such a beautiful sight. After you spoke he started to slowly move, moaning at the feeling of your tight cunt around him. You gripped his back harshly with your nails causing him to let out a loud groan, after a moment or so he started moving faster, not being able to hold himself back anymore. “Fuck please, please fuck me harder uncle!” You moaned loudly as he now started to really slam his hips against yours. The sounds of your moans and his filling the room as well as the slapping of your skin together, this only made you more aroused. He moved out of you for a second before flipping you over to your stomach, then he grabbed a pillow and moved it under your hips to raise your ass for him slightly. 
He then inserted his cock back inside you and started fucking you rough. His balls pounding against your ass as he fucked you harshly over the pillow. “Oh fuck! Please uncle! Please fill me! Please!” You screamed begging him to cum inside you. “Such a good girl, already such a slut for me.” He grunted in your ear, feeling himself getting closer to his release. He moved his hand between you and the pillow and moved his fingers over your clit, matching the speed with his pounding hips. You moaned and begged louder until you finally came hard, your walls contracting around him. “Fuck yes, oh fuck that’s it.” Aemond moaned your tight cunt causing him to fill you up to the rim with his cum. He gave a final three thrusts to milk himself dry and moved off of you, laying by your side. You moved off the pillow and crawled in his arms. “Are you still upset about becoming my wife?” He asked you with a smile on his lips. “No I am definitely not.” You smiled back, as he held you tightly in his arms.
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I hope you liked my first Aemond fic, let me know who I should write for next and if there are things I should change. xx
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lovelykhaleesiii · 9 months
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Can I request some sort of smut with Prince Regent!Aemond? I can't get him out of my head!!!! I see him being so mean and intimidating on the Iron Throne, like he wouldn't wear the eye patch bc he knows he looks "scary" to everyone in the court without it...except his little wife doesn't find him scary. His sweet wife is willing to fulfill his every need, no matter what that is, and is a good girl for him when he fucks her roughly, and it ends up melting his cold heart. Just a thought 😮‍💨
please the heinous bitch I'll become when Aemond takes this role on, lord forgive me. this is brilliant, thanks for sending in the ask boo xx
hope you love it!
Dearest, Ruthless Husband
PAIRING: Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader
WORDS: 2,432.
WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of cruel!Aemond, degradation kink, p in v sexual intercourse (consensual), oral male receiving, mentions of breeding kink.
A/N - writing this got me so hyped for Prince Regent Aemond!!! I hope you all enjoy, the smut is a little different to what I normally write or go about it, but sue me. Intrusive thoughts won!!!!
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The Dance of the Dragons as most maesters and commoners of King's Landing had dubbed the unfolding family feud within House Targaryen, was beginning to simmer and churn. Brutal words exchanged, promises unkept and broken, and battles ruthlessly fought, both sides began to earn their gains, and yet also face immense losses. The most recent, left the Usurper King Aegon, burnt and beyond repair. The King had succumbed to his bed chambers, in the endless care of maesters, tending to his wounds as he remained unconscious from milk of the poppy. Although the realm staggered on, it needed to be assigned someone to represent the sovereign himself, and no other candidate stood out, other than your royal husband, Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen.
Before the war had torn through the Seven Kingdoms, you had been betrothed to the young Prince. Paramount in securing an alliance on behalf of the Crown, you had grown doubtful that the marriage would remain fruitful, weary that Aemond merely saw you more as an obligation than an actual human being. Much to your surprise and in favour of the Gods, the Targaryen prince, took a key interest in you, as you gradually began to spend more and more time immersed in each other's sole company. Till proof had been cemented when he meekly admitted his love for you.
"It will be undying, this union, bound to me forever, my love. You will never no of hate nor harm, that I can promise you, my wife to be."
And although, Aemond had always been more of a withdrawn, private man since your first acquaintance, the longer this war prolonged, the more it seemed to have hardened his exterior. The man you'd once soulfully cherished and dreamt of now absent, replaced by a strange clone, the warmth buried inside seemed to have gone out like a candle in the wind.
He did no harm towards you, although, you scarcely saw him. Occasionally, he'd accompany you to dinner, only to be torn away from you, more prominent, urgent matters to attend that broke in the dead hour of the night. The bed had grown lonesome, and you struggled to sleep without his comforting presence and familiar body warmth. Regardless, your safety was still a priority, he made certain that you were around, in his vicinity.
****
Nowadays, you often found your husband seated firmly atop the Iron Throne, speaking and acting on behalf of his elder brother, the King. Many a times, he'd often privately disclosed of how he'd envisioned himself instead, given the miraculous chance, he sternly believed he'd be the better choice, "I'm far more suited than the likes of him." And yet, now that his treasonous wish had been granted, the circumstances unfortunate, he did not feel as willing for it. Eager to uphold duty nonetheless, you knew, however, that Aemond loved his family immensely, this including Aegon. They grew together, trained together and fought together. Yet he only now, fully understood the burden in which the crown wielded.
Today was no less different.
Entering the throne room, crowded by those who'd sworn allegiance unto King Aegon the Second, and those in chains, forced upon their knees, for those who had instead sworn fealty to Rhaenyra only to be captured. Aemond coldly observed them from above, the ferocity of the throne, its sharp, steel blades exemplified by his exposed sapphire eye. Since your beloved husband was publicly anointed as Prince Regent, he had taken to the habit of unveiling his lost eye, no longer bearing the notorious eye patch that modestly covered his ailment. He never hid it out of shame, though rather sympathetically as means to not frighten the maidens of the court. Yet the spoils of war had unleashed a crueler side to Aemond, one that you did not sense of its existence, though neither grew fearful of.
"Sided with the false Queen, my elder sister, Rhaenyra Targaryen, you have committed the highest form of treason against the Crown... Cowards and traitors, you shall all face the wroth of the Dragons through me... I do not see it fit to send you all to the Wall, no that would be mercy...Death to the whole lot of you."
His words sent a cold chill through your body, shuddering against his low, unwavering tone. Aemond had always spoken with a steadiness, and that remained unchanged. You could not deny that seeing such a formidable side of Aemond, unlike before, was invigorating. In the haste moments that you were caught in your own bewildered thoughts, with a sway of his hand swatting for the guards to remove said traitors, the out-roar of prisoners begging and pleading before their Prince Regent and the rattling of their heavy chains as they'd been forcefully led away was a chilling memory. After the final few had left to the dungeons below, you'd caught sight of Aemond staring right at you. Mindlessly, a faint smile fell upon your gentle face, and in a few seconds to come, Aemond demanded that all vacate the room, except for you. As the others departed, you walked in the opposing way, strolling closer and closer to where your husband remained comfortably seated, coming to a halt before the stony steps.
Upon hearing the final closing of the main, oak doors, an eerie silence fell upon the void of the room. Aemond's eye turned from the shut doors back down unto your feeble state below, the height and distance made you look smaller, more miniscule.
"You dare to taunt me with that smile, woman? Your presence during court already weakens me so."
"I merely wish to see my husband in all his glory, for it feels like a lifetime that I have not been blessed in his company. If needs be that I must seek you out myself, then so be it."
"Hmm."
Just as you'd taken the first step up, Aemond commanded for you to stop. Caught mid-way, you were startled by his objection as he often never resisted you.
"You think you can go unpunished just like that, do as you please and walk yourself right up here. Simply because you're my little whore?"
You were mildly perplexed by his minor outburst, although with the sly grin strewed across his face and the low deep chuckle he provoked from his own amusement, you knew he was simply taunting you. And yet, being Prince Regent, you had no choice but to obey.
"On all fours woman, I want to see you crawl to me, like the bitch that you are."
Hesitant at first, the burning glare from your husband's end though convinced you otherwise. Now on all fours, you slowly began to mechanic your way up to him, feeling Aemond's grin seething into the tender skin of your back, straight through your gown. Did this amuse him, seeing you grabble for him on the grimy, ancient floor, practically yielding to his every word.
Now at his feet, you remained on your knees, sore palms resting on your thighs, you looked up at him eagerly, a soft smile upon your face. If he thought he could taunt or debase you, he should reconsider.
"Satisfied yet, my dearest?" You meekly interject, your smile growing brighter.
"Not yet. Have you any bright ideas, wife, or must I command you like a hound?"
Although his voice stern, the sly grin remained faintly embedded across his face, and eyebrow perked, eager for your response. Yet your remained endearing, a lustful look across your face, as your hands began to gently make there way up his lean thighs.
"You have worked so tirelessly for the realm, and yet your wife remains lonesome, in her own company. From time to time, my husband is too busy fulfilling the duties of the realm, he seems to have forgotten his duty to his wife. Leaving me to touch myself so desperately... I suppose, I must remind him."
Now your hands reached the buttons of his trousers, Aemond bucks his hips forward, as you undo them, pulling them and his under garments just low enough, that his bare cock strings out. Already glistening at its tip, the sight always left you dumbfounded. His length was greater than average, and veiny, you could sense its palpating throbs against the soft palms of your hands, as you began to stroke its firm state.
"Already hard for me, my Prince. Have you missed me so?"
His pre-cum already spilling from the pinkish tip, you'd noticed the more fasten your pace grew, the firmer his grip tightened on the metal arm rests of the throne. His once-steady breathing now heavier.
"Fuck Y/N. Don't keep me waiting."
A sweet giggle escaped your lips, as his eye and the sapphire gem remained fixated on your kneeling frame below his knees. Soon enough, still massaging his hardening cock, you ease yourself between his thighs, spreading his legs out wider for you to adjust yourself. His wish, his command, you brought your mouth to his cock, in the same, sensual pace, sucking at his cock, feeling the throbs and familiar taste in your mouth.
"Seven fucking Hells," He breathlessly huffed, his chest now heaving against your slow, engulfing motions.
It was undeniable that the tip of his cock was stiffly hitting the back of your throat, regardless of how often this act was done in the privacy of your shared chambers, his length was one you could never quite adjust to, often gagging at it, although now you'd grown familiar to manoeuvre and angle it accordingly.
"That tight, pretty mouth of yours, oh, how I've missed it."
It had been a while since Aemond and yourself had shared these intimate moments only lawful between a man and his woman, since the uprising of the war. The Gods were now charitable, for both your favours were being met.
"Mmm. F-Fuck I'm close, Princess. Straightened up."
The thudding of his hard, long cock you could feel had grown tenser. Pulling out, caused a visceral reaction from him, as you once more, obeyed his command, straightening your posture enough, that the cleavage of your breasts was the main attraction between his thighs. Immediately, he hastily spilled his warm seed over your breasts, causing a mess all over you, some of his wetness had seeped in between the cleavage, whilst the rest glistened against your soft skin, before pooling down, drenching your garments.
"A masterpiece if I ever saw one," He chuckled, as his thumb tenderly wiped away at the remnants lingering over the corner of your moist lips.
"Aemond, I need you dearest," You sulkily yearned, a hand clutching to your clothed cunt, feeling yourself beginning to grow avid, as a long, familiar feeling brew between your thighs.
"Up- Come, my dearest-" His hand smacked against his thigh, as the other held your hand in is lifting you up, guiding you to ease yourself down over him: hastily pulling your layered gown up and tearing your undergarments into two, his firm cock easily finding its way inside of you.
Muffled moans helplessly tore through you, once again, the neediness for your husband's cock, and the long-awaited wait, stimulating you enough. His wetness that coated him, helped to ease himself plunging in, now adjusted, your hips beginning to sway forwards and back over his strong lap, his rough hands held you firmly by the waist, steadying you over him.
"I ought to fuck you senseless, leave you satisfied enough for until the next time I return from battle. Perhaps I ought to fuck a babe into you, my dearest."
Still childless, it was all bad-timing for only a few months after your wedding, the war broke out and Aemond was caught in the haste of it all. He scarcely had time to bed you, although now that his family numbers were dwindling, it seemed a babe was of great importance, an heir for the Prince Regent.
"Y-Yes, Aem- I want your child."
"Your wish is my command, wife. I shall see you swell greatly with child, as many sons and daughters as I see fit."
Earning more helpless cries and screams for your husband, the room echoed with your pleas and Aemond's heavy breathing. You were certain the guards posted outside, would know of the events unfolding from within, and yet no shame. For they'd have to answer to Aemond, and that itself, was a threat.
"Fill this pretty cunt of yours, this cunt that belongs to me. I shall keep you full, as need be."
"A-As you desire, m-my Prince-"
One of Aemond's hands remained supporting your lumbar, snaking its way behind, and the other found its way to your scalp, tugging and pulling at your hair, as your head rocked back in tune to his aggressive motions. Words no longer comprehensible to exchange, Aemond's lips found themselves occupied, lapping and suckling at the sensitive crook of your neck, leaving harsh, red marks across your skin.
"Finish me, Aem. I-I need you to fill me-"
The excitement that had brewed in anticipation for this monumental moment, had finally met its need. Your sweet, hot cum pooled over his sturdy, long cock inside, pooling beneath your gown, and in response, evoked the same pleasurable reaction from your husband. Feeling his hot seed once more, shooting itself inside, coating your walls. You felt certain a child was procreated in that precise moments, though regardless, would pray to the Gods to grant you the chance to bear a healthy babe.
Huffing and puffing, hot, perspiring skin against each other, resting your foreheads against one another, almost in sync, you both exchanged faint, genuine laughter.
"I-I have missed you my dearest. It pains me so, to be away from you so often and for so long. I cherish these moments with you, even catching you lingering in the shadows, watching me."
His sweet words warmed your meek heart, and you knew that your husband was apologetic in some sense, even if he struggled to admit it.
"I know my love, but soon enough, a war always comes to an end. Just be sure, I have you returned to me in one piece, and at my beckon call."
A deep, low chucked echoed from deep inside him, as he bashfully looked down, before returning his sole gaze unto you, your fingers toying with long strands of his platinum hair.
"Even if the Gods have other plans, I will defy them for you, always. I promise to return to you, and if the Mother is willing, a babe in your arms. I love you."
general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @randomdragonfires
Aemond taglist - @godrakin @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog
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