#the lost ( andal. )

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

magic in asoiaf is genetic. and that is intresting. and the fact that grrm doesn’t shy away from the implications of this makes me love asoiaf even more.

because it’s very understandable that these people who could ride dragons would see themselves as more gods than men. it’s understandable that the practice of sibling-sibling incest would become common in order to keep this ability in the family/to not lose said ability. it’s also understandable that these people would see their race as superior because they are able to do these things that others could not.

it also makes complete sense that this human civilization collapsed in a horrific magical event due to their own hubris because they saw themselves as gods when they were always only men.

and that is peak world building.

some more peak world building is that the noble houses of westeros also clearly gained power and held onto their power through the use of their magical abilities inherited from their ancestors.

a godlike existence like Garth the Green being the ancestor of all the oldest and most noble of the reach houses makes perfect sense for this world!and it also makes sense that the lords without this ancestry are discriminated against in this region that still holds onto the values their society cultivated in the past in order to maintain their magical superiority, even though most of these noble and old houses no longer exhibit these abilities.

and it also makes sense that these people no longer have access to these abilities as they no longer practice the religion that was centered around these powers; plus their blood is simply diluted at this point as these houses have married into a different ethnic group so often that the magical gene just doesn’t surface anymore.

but the fact that it still matters if you can trace your ancestry back to Garth the Green? peak! peak! peak!

george does such an excellent job showcasing the stagnation of westerosi society here because why should it matter if you’re connected to this magic guy if magic is no longer commonplace? however, it also makes total sense that the ruling class of the reach still harps on and on about this as it’s how they maintain the status quo and differentiate themselves from those they consider lesser now that they no longer have access to magic themselves.

and this is also why it’s very important that the Starks still retain the blood of the first men. because the first men interbred with the children of the forest and other elder races, which is what gave these humans these powers. it’s also worth noting that before the direwolves connected with the Stark children, none of our current Starks were able to awaken their abilities by themselves, which shows that even now they are very far removed from their ancestor who’s genetic makeup gave this bloodline these abilities. and it makes sense that the Starks experienced this slow magical decline because magic itself was declining in the world after the doom of valyria.

another reason for this decline is because Andal culture started heavily influencing the North and slowly changed the way magic was perceived. so now in the present, a warg/skinchanger/greenseer has become something to fear being because that’d make you different and therefore puts your life at risk, which means that there’s now practically no safe environment to cultivate these abilities and no secure way to pass down any knowledge you do have about said abilities.

i can’t help but be reminded about how Jon Snow has rejected his nature and how that has led to the stagnation of his abilities, and then i think about Arya and Bran and how their new environments have led to an astonishing growth in their abilities, which shows that it’s not just genetics that matter, environment is also just as, if not more, important.

i bring all of this up because magic being genetic in asoiaf is not as problematic as people try to make it out as. in real life, sometimes people just have genetic gifts. some people can become olympians, and some people are disabled. some people are born 10 times smarter than the average human, and some people believe that covering their faces in lemon juice would turn them invisible. that is reality. and in this universe, some people have access to magic and some don’t, and it’s all based on genetics. it’s unfair! and that makes it realistic.

not everyone gets to ride dragons and not everyone gets to travel back in time, and that grounds asoiaf, which is what grrm was going for.

and how these societies have organized themselves in response to these genetic abilities and the dangers they pose makes absolute sense. on one hand we have the valyrian freehold, which was a magic hotspot and the people who lived there used magic to propel their society to new heights, and on the other hand we have the seven kingdoms that demonize anyone too different, and all magic practitioners are different from normal humans.

and the fact that george decided to go this route with asoiaf is so juicy to me cause:

we have characters like Varamyr and Euron who use their abilities to commit great evils and we know that their powers have influenced the way they see and interact with others. on the other hand we have characters like Dany who use their abilities to fight against evil violent institutions. and through characters like her we learn how vulnerable fledgling magic practitioners/characters with these abilities are to these older and more dangerous institutions and individuals who are perfectly aware about the knowledge gap between them and these younger characters and know exactly how to exploit them.

so, while it’s understandable that the fandom is uncomfy with the practices and values that grrm has written about, this isn’t bad world building by any means. it’s logical and well thought out. and i truly enjoy that grrm doesn’t shy away from writing about the more worrying aspects and implications of magic being a matter of genetics. i also like how the seven kingdoms and the valyrian freehold are kinda extremes on the matter of magic and how this is/was detrimental to both of these societies and at the individual level. a horrific magical firey doom is not any better nor any worse than a slow drawn out icey decline.

imo, what is important to remember is that in the world of asoiaf, people with magic are the ones who are discriminated against (bc most POV characters are in Westeros and magic is a no no there). so they are the ones who are in danger if they out themselves as magic users. now, it is true that some societies are more tolerant (Qarth is a great example of this and Valyria before the doom was likely the most tolerant to have ever existed in this world), but as of now most societies simply aren’t. remember jojens warning? he didn’t pull that out of his ass. bran would’ve been in a lot of danger if he came out and told the wrong people about his dreams/abilities. also, jon’s assassination may have been partly motivated by the mutineers fear of wargs. this is the life-threatening danger magic practitioners are in for simply existing in an intolerant society.

tbh the reason i typed all this up is because it’s very annoying when people try to ignore the reality, which is that the dragonbond depends on genetics. now, i’m sure there are other ways to ride a dragon, as dragons are magical animals so of course there may be a one in a million chance of a dragon allowing some rando to ride it, but this doesn’t change the fact that there is such a thing as a genetic ability that gives these certain humans the ability to form a connection with a dragon.

(another example that i can’t help but remember is that melisandre was able to get ghosts approval by using some of her tricks. of course there could be other reasons for ghost to have done this, but the most likely reason is that ghost simply fell for melisandre’s trick and this influenced how jon saw mel. but this doesn’t change the fact that melisandre will never have the kind of bond jon and ghost have because melisandre is not a warg. this is also another example of how vulnerable fledgling magic practitioners are to older ones.)

so, sorry not sorry that george decided to create a realistic representation of what a society would look like if only certain bloodlines were able to ride dragons <\3.

[pastebunny]

my beloved….OG? five guys? heroes of peepo? we-all-hate-each-other squad? hey, what are these dickheads called anyways?

beloved dickheads in question:

skillet - @ancient-goth-kid

andal - @buggirlbutt

kettle - @fitsnchips

auraxos - @ask-the-queens-warlock

my friends added some funny stuff that I had to cut out for space, so here’s everybody’s individually signed image under the cut!

[kaerinio]

also thinking about how many of the prophecies daenerys fulfills are male-gender coded: azor ahai reborn, the stallion who mounts the world, the prince that was promised. when she's named the stallion who mounts the world and unifies all the khalasars of the great grass sea, the dothraki take to calling her the full title, as well as the stallion, khal, great khal, and of course, simply khaleesi. the same thing with the prince that was promised! some simply refer to her interchangeably as the prince or the princess. the coding of the language doesn't bother her at all, and she truly has no preference?? she will respond to khal as much as she would khaleesi, and she does so without a second thought.

[starryrosebud]

House Targaryen/Old valyria dragonlords:

[midnightfiireworks]

🧑‍🤝‍🧑🧑‍🤝‍🧑how do they feel about having multiple partners at once? have they ever done it? // andal :intjwait:

andal is absolutely up for multiple partners at once!

i think he did it a couple times before the whole Taniks Event, mostly in the heat of the moment or when he needed to let himself loose. after becoming vanguard, that all but ground to a halt, though he was known to allow himself a few moments of polyguard action (vanguard dependent obviously).

i think post-taniks, it would take a little bit for him to build up to that. he gets overwhelmed easily, and multiple hands grabbing him can cause him to freak out. however, he's definitely up for some polypack activities!

[claymoresword]

The Queen And Her Knight | Chp: 7

Alicent Hightower x Knight Fem!Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower against her better judgement, falls in love with her sworn protector. Can she bear to fight her feelings or will she finally just give in?

Wordcount: 4.2k

Pairing: Alicent x Reader

Warnings: power imbalance, angst, fluff, smut, fingering, g!p reader, dialogue heavy, mentions of alcoholism

Note: you asked and after a year i finally delivered! this one definitely moves the plot forward but i also managed to get carried away with the smut somehow lol. if you wish to skip it just keep a lookout for the asterisks

enjoy!

Taglist: @blackbirdv98 @flaiire1805 @alicentfangirl @memarrymilf @thegayassbit-ch @vantestark @hauntedfictionland @livinginafantasysposts @baddie-on-a-mission-xx @evolutionsglory @darthtargnister @dxrewclf @rozmrazaradelfinow @wlwfanfictionss @karsonromanoff

You hold up the crown for all to see. The aged relic is a circlet of valyrian steel, set with blood-red rubies. Although only few remained, the squared cut gemstones were still a captivating sight to regard nonetheless.

The crown was once worn by Aegon The Conqueror – it seems fitting that it now be passed down to his namesake. 

The dragon pit is engulfed in trepidation enough to stifle, as you gently place the crown upon Aegon's head.

It fits like a glove. A reassuring and altogether unsettling prospect.

“Let the Seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen, is the true heir to the Iron Throne.” A declaration that rattles the silence. Your voice travels far, it ricochets off the towering walls and high ceilings.

You watched as the High Septon assisted the King back onto his feet before bowing at him in respect. 

Your hand firmly resting on the hilt of your sword as you incline your head the same way when Aegon glances at you.

As he shifts his stare toward his mother, Alicent performs a curtsey. Followed by the same from Helaena. 

Aemond holds his older brother's gaze for a moment before inclining his head in respect as well.

“All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second Of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord Of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” The High Septon announces as Aegon turns to face the mass of people watching the ceremony.

“Aegon the king!” You call out, and soon the crowd erupts, loud bursts of shouts and claps, all celebrating their new king.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

While you stood in the dowager queen's bedchambers, your expression twists incredulously as Alicent endlessly fusses at your breastplate. Soon, moving behind you to fasten your white cloak.

“Your Grace, I can manage this on my own, truly.” You insist once more, feeling rather queer. A queen should not be tending to you, in fact it ought to be the opposite. 

Alicent remains determined, and stubborn.

“Hush.” She scolds, and you say nothing else.

“There we are.” She says, smoothing out your green tunic. After accepting the post as Lord Commander, you have since abandoned your own house colors. 

Even the breastplate you have chosen for today was a foreign one, no longer the golden kraken, now intricately carved with the sigil of House Hightower instead. 

Uncanny as it may be, you could not deny that it was beautifully made, and generally easier on the eyes compared to your old armor, it also fits far more comfortably.

You catch Alicent's eyes upon you, now suddenly feeling exposed, by the way she was observing your frame. 

Shameless and brazen; you can't help the way it stirs something within you.

“Alicent.” You snatch her attention abruptly, forcing back your amusement.

“Hm?” The dowager queen replies, lost for a moment. It seems she only realizes she has been caught when your eyes meet. A visible blush rapidly creeps up to her face in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“You seem to be eyeing me like a meal to devour.” You point out, causing Alicent to avert her gaze entirely from embarrassment.

Gods, how desperately you wish to kiss her right now.

“You look exceptional in green,” The queen utters, her hand slips up your forearm.

In truth, her admittance doesn't surprise you. 

Fascinating how she can be transparent one moment and entirely unreadable the next. 

This notion alone draws you in beyond reason. With Alicent, you are always acting on pure desire and instinct. 

She has completely enchanted you.

“Is that right?” You ask regardless, moving closer.

Alicent nods, her bottom lip set in between her teeth. The sight of her like this always drove you mad with the urge to ravage her here and now. 

The older woman instinctively slips her arms around your neck. It takes all of your control to only place a hand on the small of her back and nowhere else, trailing tender kisses along her jaw.

“Do you enjoy seeing me in armor, Your Grace?” You whisper. 

As you part her hair away from her neck, you allow your lips to meet the shell of her ear. Relishing in the way Alicent trembles at your touch.

“I do, very much.” She answers, and as you pull away, Alicent does quite the opposite, leaning in to capture your lips with her own. 

Open-mouthed and eager, she kisses you with enough fervor and passion to leave you aching for more.

You can hardly help the way your hand slips lower to squeeze her rear, pulling her flush against your groin.

Alicent gasps into your mouth at the sensation, now feeling the bulge in your breeches. 

She kisses you once more before pulling away, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck to hide her flushed expression.

“Lord Commander.. you are being terribly indecent.” The queen's tone betrays a playfulness, one that exhilarates you.

“I cannot help it, my queen. You drive me half-mad with want.” You remark, as your hand slides up her back in a languid manner.

Alicent exhales against your neck. She pulls you in even closer, welcoming your touch.

“Be safe today.. return to me in one piece.” The other woman utters, you meet her brown eyes, warm and enticing.

“If the Gods will it, I shall.” Your response is likely less than reassuring, but the dowager queen does not say anything to confront this.

Alicent merely occupies herself by tracing along your features delicately with her thumb. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, unable to hide the smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, basking in the attention she is giving you.

“Kiss me again.” You ask, and the queen moves to do exactly that, but a knock on the door causes Alicent to abruptly pull away, resuming a proximity.

The suddenness of her action nearly knocks the wind out of you and your smile quickly dissipates. 

It aches, in truth, having to sneak around like this. You mislike feeling like a dirty secret– the queen's mistress.

Or perhaps her whore.

“Come.” Alicent calls, she composes herself as she straightens out her gown. A heartbeat before her father enters.

Alicent's demeanor shifts in a way you have been privy to in the past. It appears effortless the way her expression sets impassively, her hands clasped firmly over her stomach.

Now she is queen Alicent, again. No longer the woman you had been kissing just moments prior.

Otto has his jaw tightened in a similar fashion, studying you in a way that forces you to shift uncomfortably, despite yourself. “Lord Commander, it is time for us to depart.” He finally utters.

You nod, reaching for your sword belt. “Very good, m’lord.” 

As you fastened the belt upon yourself, you observed as Alicent retrieved what appears to be a piece of parchment from her bedside table. The dowager hands it over to her father, whispering something to him that is intelligible to your ears. 

Even as you move slightly closer under the guise of arming your steel, you are still unable to make out the sudden, and evidently secretive conversation being had between them.

You vow to sate your curiousity and confront Alicent about this later; after you have successfully delivered terms to princess Rhaenyra.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Your arrival at Dragonstone was expectedly greeted with nothing but asperity– the threat of blood shed felt imminent as you stood on the bridge.

Your army, alongside Otto's, staring down the few men who remain loyal to the Rogue Prince.

Rhaenyra Targaryen has evidently fashioned these men to act as her newly appointed Queensguard.

The notion of an agonizing death looms over all of you as her large dragon remained perched a few feet away. 

Syrax is silent– as if she possessed the capacity to understand the situation at hand.

You could sense the ground beneath you rumble every time the dragon took a breath, sending a never ending chill down your spine.

“You all are traitors to the realm.” Queen Rhaenyra declares, her late father's golden crown perched upon her head.

“King Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms. Confess Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne.” Otto pauses, and Rhaenyra only acknowledges the statement with a scowl, before a hardened expression takes over her features once more.

You observed as Daemon scoffed. His grip on his steel continued to advise you to keep a firm hold on your own sword.

“In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your true born son Jacaerys upon your death.” The Hand offers, generous in any other circumstance– if it was not Rhaenyra's birthright that has been stolen from her.

“Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark, and all the lands and holding of house Velaryon.”

“Your sons by prince Daemon, will also be given places of high honor at court. Aegon the younger as the king's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the king in his good grace will pardon any knight or Lord who conspired against his ascent.” Otto finishes, and the rogue prince is quick to retaliate.

“I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken usurper cunt of a king.” Daemon sneers, yet you notice Otto's resolve, he remains unfazed, confident.

One you utterly lacked, in truth. You kept an eye on a second dragon, red and much larger than Syrax, orbiting the sky.

“Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword, has the conqueror's name. He was anointed by a Septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every single symbol of legitimacy belongs to him.” Otto claims, unwavering.

This works to agitate Rhaenyra enough, her Lord husband appears more than prepared to behead any one of you currently standing before him.

“Then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Houses who have also received and are at present, considering generous terms from their king.” The Hand adds salt to an already gaping wound.

“Stark, Tully and Baratheon have all sworn allegiance to me. As have your House, y/n.” Rhaenyra states, addressing you directly, taking you by surprise for a moment before you found the sense to meet her hard stare.

As you remain silent, Rhaenyra continues.

“I understand if you don't recall, you were still suckling at your mother's teats when your father bent the knee.” The Targaryen remarks, whether intended as a jab to your pride, it matters not, as you refuse to feel it.

“But he swore his allegiance to me, nonetheless.”

You shift your weight from one foot to another, hand resting on the pommel of your sword. “I am not here on my father's behalf.” You respond curtly.

“Then who are you here for?” Daemon inquires, he quickly continues before you can conjure a reply.

“Are you so cunt-stricken by that whore you call your queen that you are willing to abandon a sworn oath? Where is your honor?” He taunts, and this time you do feel it, like a lance to the gut.

You open your mouth to respond, but Otto quickly interjects before things get the chance to escalate further.

“Grand Maester.” He calls, extending his arm. Maester Orwyle then passes him a piece of parchment, the same one that you had witnessed Alicent give to her father in her bedchambers.

Your confusion sets in once more as Otto bravely advances forward, passing the same parchment to Rhaenyra.

The queen, in her fury, snatches it from Otto, unfolding it to discover its contents. 

It was only then you noticed that it was not a letter– rather, an illustration. A page torn from a book.

“What the fuck is this?” Daemon curses, ironically sharing your sentiment.

Rhaenyra remained silent as she stared at the page in her hands, her expression still unreadable.

“Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. She eagerly awaits your answer.” Otto utters, and your face falls once you recognize the tears that escaped Rhaenyra's eyes. 

A sinking feeling that you've been trying to set aside all day, re-emerges, inexplicably, you reach for your sword.

“She can have her answer now stuffed in her father's mouth, along with his withered cock. Let's end this mummer's farce.” The rogue prince hisses, as he unsheathes his steel, you immediately do the same. 

In the next few moments the noise of metal scraping against scabbard charges the air as the rest of your soldiers along with Daemon's draw their weapons.

“Ser Erryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure of killing him myself.” The prince consort's command is broken by the sound of Syrax shrieking, flailing her body violently.

You flinch, but do your best to ignore the incessant pounding in your chest as you gripped your sword tighter.

Then, by a miracle, Rhaenyra subdues her uncle with a single word. “No.” She declares, Daemon is forced to set down his sword. He does it begrudgingly, and you slowly do the same.

“King's Landing will have my answer on the morrow.” The queen utters sharply before turning away, disappearing through her guards.

You stand frozen in place. 

Somehow, no blood was spilled today. The simple prospect of Alicent's care for Rhaenyra seemed enough for the Targaryen to forsake her own claim to the throne.

It appears you shall return to Alicent safely, as she asked. You should be relieved, and yet you feel nothing of the sort. 

The thought of the dowager queen welcoming you home, with a warm embrace, doesn't fill you with a sense of joy like it usually would.

It only makes you ill.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Since returning to the Red Keep you had chosen to keep away, sequestered in your quarters. Only your thoughts and a flagon of strongwine to keep you company.

You realize that you ought to visit Alicent, assure her of your safety, but still, you couldn't bear it, not today. 

Endlessly replaying the moment in your head, Otto's words pollute your thoughts.

Alicent has not forgotten the love she once held for Rhaenyra, that much is evident.

So where does that leave you? 

You are no longer certain you even possess a space in Alicent's life, let alone in her heart.

She loves Rhaenyra, and you are only a mistress.

You wipe away your tears, it is no use crying, you are simply mourning a fantasy. Queen Alicent is beyond your reach, she always has been.

As you continued to lose the battle to your anxieties, you fail to hear the main door of your bedchambers creaking as it gets pushed open.

Alicent catches you throwing your head back as you emptied the contents of your goblet. Her expression displaying palpable concern as she approaches you.

“Why are you drinking?” She inquires, and you scramble to your feet, perplexed in the way she somehow managed to enter your chambers without you realizing it.

“Your Grace.” You address her, inclining your head as you propped your hand against the back of the chair.

Alicent appears taken aback by your formality, nonetheless she moves to touch your cheek, but halts immediately when she notices the way you recoiled.

“What is the matter?” The older woman asks carefully, studying you with such concern that it weakens your very being.

How could she possibly place you above Rhaenyra Targaryen?

“I was convinced that I was going to die at Dragonstone.” Your voice breaks.

“But you did not, thank the Gods.” Alicent utters in relief, she grabs your arm, still unaware of your true grievance.

“The only reason my men and I were spared was because Rhaenyra commanded it as such.” You state, pausing for a moment to steady your breathing. 

“and, she only did so because of you.” You accuse, and Alicent straightens her back, retracting her hand once more.

You mourn her touch, but force yourself to look into her eyes as you await a response.

When nothing comes, you decide to speak again.

“Do you love her?” You ask boldly, prepared for any response, but the one Alicent gives you is barely anything at all.

“I–” She stutters after a prolonged silence, and you scoff, moving past her to sit on the edge of your bed.

Alicent takes large strides after you, eager to explain herself. 

“Rhaenyra and I, we were children together, we did everything together. She was my closest friend.” The dowager queen starts as she moves to stand directly in front of you.

“Perhaps I was in love, at one point. But that was an entirely different lifetime, y/n. A life I do not even recognize.” She admits, and you finally look up at her.

Alicent tentatively wipes away the tear that managed to escape your eye. 

Despite yourself, your lips meet the palm of her hand as you hold it close to your face.

The dowager queen smiles.

“I am in love with you. Only you.” Alicent reassures, and your heart soars. Whether it is a lie to spare your feelings or a vulnerable truth, you are still thankful she cares enough to utter the words.

For now, that is enough.

“I love you too, so much.” You respond, still gazing up at her.

Alicent's auburn locks fell loosely down her shoulders like liquid fire. Her white nightdress, although modestly crafted, still managed to highlight every delicate curve and dip of her body.

She looks utterly breathtaking. 

The queen snaps you out of your trance when she leans down to meet your lips with her own. A searing kiss that immediately leaves you breathless.

Alicent whimpers softly as your tongue enters her mouth, overcome with an urge to feel her, you place a firm hand on her waist, guiding her to straddle your lap.

The dowager does so with no protest, her knees quickly settling in between your hips on the bed. 

Her core snug against your clothed groin, she feels so warm, so intoxicating.

*

Alicent grinds against your lap instinctively, causing you groan into the kiss. The queen seemingly overtaken with desires of her own, pulls away to begin trailing open mouthed kisses from the shell of your ear, down to your neck.

Your breathing quickens.

“Fuck– I cannot believe how perfect you are.” You say, and Alicent leans back to look at you. She does so comfortably with your firm hand supporting her.

“I am far from it,” She argues, and you are quick to shake your head in disagreement, guiding her close once more by the nape of her neck.

“You have no idea how ready I am to commit treason just to prove you wrong, my queen.” You remark, and the sound of Alicent's giggle fills you with hope for the first time in days, before she connects your lips once more.

**

As the kiss deepens your hand wanders the dowager's frame, almost like second nature, you slip it underneath her nightgown, feeling goosebumps form on her thighs from your touch.

You squeezed her rear, indecently causing Alicent to grind on your lap once more. Swallowing her gasp of pleasure as she does so. 

“Y/n..” She utters against your lips, urging you on.

Soon you glide your hand towards her inner thigh, inching even closer to her core. “Can I?” Your ask is met with an eager nod. Alicent kisses you again, harsh and wanting.

“Touch me.” She says, and you do just that, finding your way to her sex. You begin to add pressure with your palm, causing Alicent's hips to buck against your touch.

She is dripping for you already– meeting your touch desperately. As you continue to move your hand against her sex, Alicent's gasps and mewls grow louder, she results in burying her face into the crook of your neck.

“Gods–” You marvel, kissing her shoulder before prodding a finger at her entrance. 

The queen grips your shoulder tighter, nodding profusely as words continue to fail her. 

You take it as permission to enter her. Doing so with two fingers, your breath hitches at the feeling of her walls contracting deliciously against your digits.

You would kill to feel her do the same around your cock.

“Yes, oh, Gods–” Alicent pants as you continue to pump in and out of her. Less than a minute has passed and it seems she is on the verge of release already, muttering incoherently against your ear.

She squeezes your fingers once more, pulling an involuntary groan from you, she is so wet you can feel her dripping down your hand, causing you to nearly soil your breeches.

“Come, come for me, beautiful..” You coax curving your fingers inside of Alicent, and that is all it took for her to fall apart completely.

She climaxes around your fingers with a cry, the sight of her writhing on top of you was truly the most captivating thing you have ever witnessed. You cock pulses with need, straining painfully against the fabric of your breeches.

Alicent's chest is heaving violently as she meets your gaze once more, her eyes dark amidst her pleasure. 

“Thank you, for that.” She mutters before kissing you deeply, and you can't help but chuckle.

“No, my love, I should be thanking you.” You insist, and Alicent cares not to argue at this moment. Her lips meet the base of your jaw, a confidence overcomes her when she touches your breasts before moving her hand further south, squeezing your cock.

She gapes at the sensation, with a look of palpable arousal that again, nearly causes you to finish right then and there.

“You are so hard..” Alicent remarks in awe, squeezing you harder, earning a guttural noise from yourself.

“Yes, all because of you.” You confer, and the dowager bites her lip to mask her delight.

The sight drove you mad, as it always does. Quickly grabbing hold of her nightdress, Alicent allows you to lift it over her head.

You toss the garment carelessly across the room. Alicent moans anew as your mouth makes contact with her bare and sensitive breasts. You begin licking and sucking as though your life depended on it.

Another shudder of pleasure nearly immobilizes the Alicent before she grips a fistful of your locks, harshly pulling your head back.

She ground her hips again, her weeping sex pressing down on your hard cock.

“Please, I want to feel it inside me. I want to feel all of you.” Alicent pleads, and the prospect alone makes you lightheaded.

You don't plan to deny either of you the pleasure any longer.

Alicent lets out a yelp in surprise as you flip your positions, placing her flat on her back as you quickly remove your tunic, finally fumbling with the laces of your breeches before removing them as well.

The queen's stare falls onto the large shaft in between your legs, she reaches out to touch your cock, but you quickly grab ahold of her hand, pinning it against the bed as you settle on top of her.

Alicent whines in protest, arching her back helplessly, causing your breasts to press up against her own.

“Please,” The dowager queen begs once more, and you smirk with a sense of triumph, in this moment, you truly believe that Alicent is yours to worship and love entirely.

“So impatient.” You tease, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

If Alicent aimed to respond, she was not given the opportunity to, as you thrust your hips forward, skillfully sheathing yourself inside of her. 

Alicent releases a strangled moan at the sensation, whimpering like a maiden as she grows accustomed to your size. Her nails dig into your back, she lifts her leg to wrap around your waist, inevitably pulling you even deeper inside of her as you begin to move your hips once more.

“Fuck– oh my Gods..” Alicent curses, motivating you to move harder against her, with every stroke, her cunt welcomes your cock eagerly. Squeezing your girth in a way you've never experienced before.

Alicent eagerly intertwines your hands, the intimate noises of your coupling filling the room. 

You groan with every thrust, feeling dangerously close to your release, you kiss her once before speaking.

“Alicent, I– I won't last much longer.” You admit, and Alicent moans at your words, anxious to witness your release.

“Don't hold back, darling.” She coaxes, letting her leg fall away from your waist, you pump inside of her again and then once more before pulling out.

Alicent continues to hold your hand as your entire body tenses, she watches your strained expression as you reach your peak.

She gasps as your seed spills onto her belly. 

Your breathing grows erratic as you ride out the shockwaves from your release. 

The feeling of Alicent's soothing hand caressing your forearm manages to coax you back to reality.

Alicent chuckles lightly as you collapse next to her, attempting to gain your bearings. 

The queen turns to face you, placing a lingering kiss on your stomach, before doing the same on your chest. 

You smile weakly, threading your fingers through her auburn locks, still feeling as though you are in a dream.

One you never wish to wake from.

“I love you..” You declare, just above a whisper.

Alicent beams, her thumb tracing across your bottom lip. “I love you too, y/n.”

[greenbloods]

🕸 waifnumber17 Follow

she let me hit becuause behind my whimsy there is this Sorrow

[this post was made by an adherent of the great council of 101!!! DNI if you adhere to andal succession law]

🌻 littlelordroses Follow

omggg my fields have been absolutely THRIVING since the tyrells have brought comfort and prosperity to the capital. feel so proud to be a reachman. thank youuuu @ mace_the_ace

🦁 hearmerawr Follow

mace tyrell is a separatist and a cryptofascist btw

🌻 littlelordroses Follow

umm could you provide some sources for this?

🥖 heelobread Follow

LANNISTAN GLOWIE SEETHING RN

🏵 ofthegreenlands Follow

lolol thats def cersei isnt it

🦁 hearmerawr Follow

it’s not my job to educate you

❄ whorefrost Follow

ok this is a long shot but if any of you are in the area around the godseye i lost my raven Moonwing yesterday and i was wondering if any of you might have seen him. he was pacing around my room two nights ago mumbling things like 'snow' and 'king' and 'hardhome'. my brother likes to play pranks on me so i thought it was just one of his games but when i woke up my raven was gone. i miss him a lot so i wanted to reach out to see if any of you might have seen him

🌙 moonglowinherhair Follow

heyy im in the godseye area too (im from Crofter's Fall if youve heard of it) but i was wondering if you have any more information about your bird? theres a lot of ravens around these parts haha

❄ whorefrost Follow

hes black

🌙 moonglowinherhair Follow

anything else?

❄ whorefrost Follow

he bites me a lot

⚔️ swordcrosseryaoi Follow

streets are saying sansa poisoned joffrey and took off from kings landing on leathery bat wings to go to the wall you go girl!! starks stay winning

fireandboob Follow

oh my fucking none of these people care about you. a stark brigade literally plundered my whole village!! can we not do this again i hate this goddamn site

🍏 fossobabe Follow

does anyone know if we have tomorrow tomorrow

🍁 plummpudding Follow

for man, perhaps. but for a tree, time is different. a river roiling back and forth, both here and there, but inconstant--always inconstant. a thousand years are but a mere moment through the eyes of a heart tree

📿 sparrowsbones-777-deactivated2990707 Follow

yeah go pray to your rivers northoid. and when the shaman comes to tear your heart out and sacrifice it to your trees, maybe spare a thought for the Seven and their divine might. we'll be waiting.

🍁 plummpudding Follow

254.421.81.132

❄ whorefrost Follow

yooo thats near where i live! if you see a raven flying near your house, could you dm me?

⛓ rhllorbot Follow

The night is dark and full of terrors.

[Beep-boop! I look for heathens and non-believers. Sometimes I mess up.]

🐗 bobby-b-bot Follow

IS THAT HOW YOU SPEAK TO YOUR KING??

🐀 askmeaboutmylengtheory Follow

every time i scroll past this post i have to reblog

🦀 crackedclaw Follow

hey can i ask you about your leng theory?

🐀 askmeaboutmylengtheory Follow

No.

🍏 fossobabe Follow

what the hell happened to my post

🗝 adropofdragonblood Follow

alright we're solving this once and for all

🧀 bloodncheesewasan1n51d3j0b Follow

op you coward wheres stannis

🗝 adropofdragonblood Follow

many have been asking the same question

🕯glasscandle-was-taken Follow

ok i know i shouldnt be surprised bcz its popular on this site to bandwagon onto the next popular thing but just a reminder that if youre supporting the conquests of daenerys targaryen youre supporting a literal colonizer and imperialist. plus slavery is literally a unique and traditional part of ghiscari culture so we cant be surprised that people over there dont like her. begging yall to pick up a scroll once in a while

🍷adornishred Follow

K

👁️ eye-motif Follow

U

⛈ pisswaterprincess Follow

N

🩸 blood-motif394 Follow

what if we were both locked in the formless dark void of the dungeon together, bereft of our own names and our own identities, bereft of everything that made us who we were. and we were both boys

🐒 littlestvalyrian Follow

haha that would be pretty epic i think

[neptuneiris]

Wild Hearts | (One Shot)

'you, it's always been you'

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you and he can't be together, yet the two of you have fallen for each other. but the Gods are not merciful and you both have to let go. but by comparison, your charming prince doesn't think the same way you do.

word count: 8.6k

next part • main masterlist

this is the new idea that I was talking about hehe🤭

i hope you like it a lot and first of all, i want you to know that there will be part two and nothing else. so enjoy this, dig it and let me know your opinion that is the most excited i am to read❤

enjoy and thank you so much for your support beautiful people!

warnings: angst, sex content, arranged married, minor mentions of cuts and blood, smut but not so elaborate.

The Gods can be cruel.

And for some time they have been cruel, especially to you.

You are a lady, yes, but not of a great house enough to be worth anything really big and significant. All your father can offer the Realm is a few soldiers, horses and you.

You are the only daughter of an arranged marriage trying to find their place among the Court. And when you are born a woman, your duty is to marry a suitable man, please him and give birth to as many children as possible.

That was your purpose in coming to King's Landing after Queen Alicent approved your stay at the Red Keep and you became a lady-in-waiting to the highborn ladys who also remain at Court.

But no one, not even you, could have prevented that those plans would no longer be a priority for you the moment you met Prince Aemond Targaryen.

You knew of the one-eyed prince's reputation, as well as his brutality in combat, his cold behavior and also of his recognition as the rider of the largest dragon in the world. But most of all, you knew that his disinterested and sometimes mean personality... was due to how he lost his eye at such a young age.

But that was what he wanted to show all the people of the Court and its visitors.

After such humiliating years of trying to prove himself while at the same time listening to whispers and rumors about him and the pity he caused people for losing his eye, Aemond had no interest in pleasing the Court, so he was just mean, disinterested and cold.

But with you it was all different.

Perhaps it was being alone for so long that he finally got tired of himself and let you in and see his other side, his true side that very few were privileged to see. After all, you were just a lowborn lady who had lived her whole life with the same duty as him: to please the Realm and fill its needs.

But even he never imagined that you and he would understand each other so well.

The gleam of his violet eye, charged with an unusual intensity and determination, the effect he made you feel when you looked back at him and saw his patch covering his left socket and the way he spoke and behaved with you, triggered a wave of unknown emotions and expectations in you.

Your first casual encounter with the prince began in the library, where you exchanged literary tastes. You revealed your fascination for the history of the Andals, as well as shared with him how interesting you found the stories of his family, the Targaryens.

And he shared with you his admiration for history and philosophy as well.

Your casual encounters with him continued in the library and before long, those encounters extended to walks in the gardens. Those walks became a mostly secret habit, where you not only shared equal opinions about books and history, but where you both got to know each other a little more.

And despite the growing friendship and the bonds that intertwined with every conversation and interaction, the weight of undeniable reality persisted.

However, neither of you stopped.

On some trips he had to make, on every return he would always bring some gift for you, whether it was a piece of jewelry or a new book that you don't have access to, to leave secretly in you chamber. Or he would even surprise you with a rare flower that is not seen in the Crowlands, handing it to you so delicately while you tried to keep the blush on your cheeks from being so obvious.

You too tried to look casual when you went to the training yard just to watch him train discreetly, admiring his skills and in every fight smiling proudly every time he made his opponents surrender to him.

And in the midst of everything and everyone, his violet eye always met yours.

At banquets and celebrations it was also the same. The two of you couldn't engage in conversation as such, at least not alone, so all night long, you could only exchange glances and act like complete strangers.

But in the occasional places where the two of you meet and no one else is around, you can act completely free.

He shared with you the story of how he claimed Vhagar, told you more about the history of his ancestors, even taught you some High Valyrian words, while you, who in comparison to him do not possess anything as great and exciting as he does, share with him your thoughts, dreams and tastes.

You both became friends. You became the friend he didn't know he needed and you definitely didn't expect someone like him, especially him, to enjoy your company so much.

And during those years, you couldn't blame the Gods for falling completely in love with the prince.

That was your total freedom and decision, even though you knew how impossible the situation was and that the two of you could probably never be together.

Your house is not worth enough to allow a union between you and a prince of the Realm. It was also useless to suggest it, because the answer would be no, both from the Queen and from your parents, who would have been totally pleased.

But Aemond is destined for more, you know that. And that more is definitely not you and not even close.

And despite this, you couldn't help but imagine as a fleeting dream the moment when he and you unite and become one. A dream that will never happen in which you finally become his wife and you can call him yours, just as he can also call you his, in body and soul.

But that dream is finally shattered when they announce the official betrothal between him and Lady Floris Baratheon.

It was something that was eventually going to happen, you knew it was going to happen, but still, the news takes you by surprise and your heart breaks into pieces, while everyone around you rejoices at the news and approves.

The days following the betrothal announcement become dark and sad for you. You retreat most of your time in your chamber, not having the mood to go out and face the Court, much less him.

And when you had to face the daylight, your steps became stealthy and sparse, trying to keep your distance as much as possible and avoiding any possible encounter with him or anyone else from the royal family.

Aemond of course realized the distance you took and respected it. Not because he knew exactly what happened, but because he thought you had other important matters that did not allow you to share your time with him.

It wasn't until an audience at the Court where the Queen and the Hand of the King attend to the needs of the people, that Aemond finally caught a glimpse of you. But you didn't return his gaze even for a moment. And it is only then that he tries to understand the reason for your distancing, but your eyes avoid any eye contact with him.

You spend several days living in the same way, until one silent morning, Aemond finds you in the library all alone. He knows this is not your favorite time to read, nor is it his, so to say you are avoiding him is clear at that moment.

He opens one of the doors gently and closes it audibly enough to get your attention. He sees perfectly how your whole body tenses and nerves are reflected in your gaze, as well as discontent.

That especially catches his attention and with more purpose he wanders deeper into the library, watching you completely intently and in search of an explanation, wanting to know what he has done to make his presence before you now uncomfortable and annoying to you.

"My prince," you say politely enough, bowing your head to him, but already wanting to leave.

You certainly did not expect him to appear and now you only try to hide from him as much as you can so that he avoids looking at the disappointment on your face.

"My Lady," he says, still with bewilderment in his gaze, taking a couple of steps towards you, "It is good to finally see you after so many weeks without your presence."

You force a small smile, lowering your gaze.

"It's good to see you too, my prince."

His closeness begins to unsettle you, feeling each step he takes towards you as an echo of emotions you'd rather keep hidden. And this is exactly why you desperately seek a way out, a convincing excuse to get away from him.

"If you'll excuse me, my prince, I must retire," you decide to say without further ado, hoping that it will work, "I wish you a good day."

But you only manage to move two steps forward when he quickly blocks your path.

"Wait."

Instantly you watch him intently and in awe, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast, as he looks at you confused and hopeful.

"You've been... absent lately," he says, his words laden with a mixture of confusion and longing.

You swallow hard, averting your gaze from his for a moment. You don't even want to look him in the eye but that would be rude and not appropriate behavior in front of a prince. So you have no choice.

"Yes," you say in a mumble, trying to find an excuse quickly, "I-I've had to take care of some important matters with my family. Also, my responsibilities at Court have kept me occupied with the ladies and other engagements, which has left me less free time, my prince."

And despite your explanation, really not at all convincing, Aemond can't help but feel annoyed.

"And will you stop saying that?" he inquires in a low tone and you watch him in confusion.

"What do you mean, my prince?"

"Exactly that, my title," he points out deliberately, "There's no one else here, it's just you and me. I don't understand what all the formality is about."

You press your lips together, again averting your gaze from him, as you as well as he, feel that tension between the two of you, a tension completely unfamiliar and one you have never felt before in each other's presence.

You had never felt uncomfortable in his presence and you had never wanted to get away from him before.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to offend you," you observe him with a serious expression, "If you'll excuse me, I have to leave now to attend to an engagement."

Again you try to walk past him and head for the library doors, but Aemond prevents it once again, blocking your path and pushing you back with his determined and clearly annoyed gaze.

"You are avoiding me," he sentences, firm with his words, showing his inconformity, surprising you, "Nothing is the same between both of us anymore and your explanations don't justify it," he says, with annoyance in his voice and a determination, "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

He asks, watching you with a restrained fury, mostly to see how you try to escape from him, while you press your lips together, trying not to let your look show your pain, disappointment and resignation.

But his gaze clings to yours with an intensity charged with longing, wanting to know, while the silence is uncomfortable and you feel again that tension between the two of you. Until finally you decide to break the silence to not quite answer her question, still evading it.

"This is inappropriate. We shouldn't be alone."

You say without looking him in the eye and that only increases the anger inside him more, watching you without understanding.

"Why the shyness all of a sudden?"

You bite your lips, feeling the discontent all over your insides as you say your next words.

"You are betrothed. People might think badly of you and me if they see us here alone."

"Oh, please Y/N," he tells you incredulously, annoyed, "You're acting ridiculous."

"Aemond-

"Why this sudden concern for appearances?" he questions, his tone infused with irritation and annoyance, "Everyone knows we're close, we always have been, and now it's inappropriate?" he inquire, not understanding.

You let out a short breath, closing your eyes for a moment, really not wanting this to be any harder than it probably will be.

"You don't understand," you murmur sadly, biting your lips, "You are betrothed now," you observe him with the resistance to cry in your gaze, "Now there are limits we cannot cross. And it would be best if this were no longer to go on," you say with a lump in your throat, "Your gifts and our meetings must stop, for the good of your future marriage and out of respect for your f-future... wife."

The weight of your words are felt in your tone, with sadness invading you as you utter them, as well as the ending of this... friendship.

Again the heavy silence hangs between the two of you, laden with a sadness and helplessness that neither of you can control. And although Aemond doesn't fully understand your reasons for distancing yourself from him, he knows there is something else that he still can't quite figure it out.

"Y/N, if you're upset because I didn't tell you about the plans my mother and grandsire had for me-

"No, no, I assure you it's not that," you hasten to say, hiding your sadness and disappointment, "It would eventually happen, wouldn't it?" you shrug, trying to smile genuinely towards him, but you can't, "You must do your duty and I will too, sooner or later," you say, lowering your gaze.

Aemond is speechless for a moment, watching you and nothing else, still feeling the guilt inside, while you struggle to contain your true emotions and shout to him in that moment that you love him, let him know once and for all, though it won't change anything.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his barely audible voice full of bewilderment and a hint of pain, "Still I didn't want to-

"No, no... it's not your fault," you say again quickly, struggling to keep your composure, "Truly, it's all right. I should leave now."

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze for a second to look at you in concert with longing and concern.

"Can we please talk about this? I don't want things to end up like this between us."

"Don't worry," you try to smile genuinely at him, but rather a grimace appears on your lips, "I'm sure we can meet in the hallways and talk at the feast."

You tell him in a confident and assured tone, but even you know that won't be true.

"Oh and... hum... congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," you say with a lump in your throat and a forced smile on your lips.

To you, the falsity of your congratulations echoes in the air, a subtle echo of disappointment and resignation flooding your heart. Aemond tries to say something with the right words, but you don't give him the time as you finally move forward and no one stops you, each step echoing with the heaviness of what could have been and was not.

But just when you think you've managed to get far enough away, a hand gently lands on your arm, once again stopping you.

"Wait, please."

Aemond's voice sounds full of urgency and longing, making your breath catch for a second. And when you turn to look at him with the clear resignation and sadness in your gaze, his look reveals a mixture of torment and determination, frustration as well.

"I did not wish for this, Y/N," he confesses truthfully, his voice soft and emotionally charged. "It is not my desire to marry Lord Borros' daughter. That is not what I wish for myself."

Your eyes fill with tears as you hear his words, surprise in your gaze. And he stares directly into your eyes with despair, as if his thoughts are trying to be conveyed through his gaze.

And even though you have nothing to say regarding that, he continues with a confession that takes your breath away.

"Y/N..." he whispers, his expression heavy with longing. "If I had a choice, if the decision were mine, I would not hesitate in....

His words hang in the air, causing confusion in you for a moment, but as you watch him closely, his gaze speaks for him.

He watches you with attention, longing and hope, adoringly seeing the way your beautiful purple dress highlights your figure and beauty, with those precious and discreet jewels adorning your neck and fingers... his woman.

He shows you his affection and expresses it simply by observing you that he doesn't need to say anything else aloud. The meaning of her words is dispersed between the two of you, revealing a shared desire and a deep connection.

As you, upon understanding, surprise and hope collide within you, leaving you breathless at the implicit, yet clear revelation. Emotions intertwine in a whirlwind of feelings as the weight of his words sink deep within you. Your heart only beats faster, unable to believe what you are hearing, as time seems to have stopped, unable to speak.

And only then there, you can feel joy in knowing that your feelings are reciprocated, but the pain of knowing that it is now too late, simply ruins everything and fills you with pain.

"Why are you saying it until now?" you whisper with your voice broken and your gaze lowered.

"Y/N, please-

You don't let him say anything else, as with a lump in your throat and tears streaming down your cheeks, a sight Aemond doesn't like to see, you turn away from him more quickly and walk out of the library, leaving him alone with the weight of these confessions and unspoken words.

Also with a heart full of regret.

The news of your courtship came weeks after the last time you spoke to Aemond in the library.

You definitely did not expect to hear that at all, as you felt like you had been unexpectedly punched hard in your stomach and a sharp pain settled in your chest as your father spoke complacently about how he received two advantageous offers for the asking of your hand, Lord Ronan Redwyne and Lord Alan Beesbury.

Despite your father's efforts to express the importance and political benefits of such possible unions, to you it was as if the air itself had become heavier and stifling.

Only on this occasion the Gods had been good to you, as both men are the same age as you, so the fear of having to marry a man who multiplies your age and was surely going to be bad to you evaporates.

But still, you feel trapped and obligated.

Of course, your parents are quick to push you to start having conversations with both men to see which of the two is the most suitable for you.

Lord Alan, with his refined presence and gentle smile, known to be a skilled knight, is kind and very gentlemanly. You always see his attempt to make you feel comfortable with his presence, also in the topics of conversation that arise between the two, telling you about his home, his family, some stories and sharing some wishes with you.

You appreciate that, as you can tell he's doing his best, but even so, your mind reels at the thought of him being the possible candidate to take your hand, which adds another layer of complexity to your situation.

The same goes for Lord Ronan.

Despite his kindness, chivalry and the attractiveness of his face, you find no peace in the situation. You don't even care that they are both advantageous for a future marriage, all you want is freedom, to wait a little longer until you heal.

But at least you are being given the choice, a privilege not many women get from their parents when it comes time to marry and simply sell them as a trophy to the first advantageous man.

"It's a beautiful day, don't you think, my Lady?" says Ronan, breaking the silence between the two as you stroll through the Red Keep gardens.

"Yes, it is," you reply with a forced smile, lowering your gaze, keeping your pace slow.

He watches you intently.

"I just want you to know that I am eager to get to know you better, my Lady," he tells you gently and formally, "And any questions you have about me, you can tell me. Also any thoughts you have, I will be pleased to hear them."

You nod politely, feeling a little uncomfortable about the situation, unable to help yourself. And though you truly appreciate Ronan's kindness, your heart still yearns for something that now eludes you.

As you continue the walk, you strive to find something in Ronan, anything, just as you do whenever you are in Lord Alan's company, but you always fail. And even though neither of them is a bad man, you know that they too are caught up in choosing a future wife that is not entirely of their choosing.

"I thank you for your kindness, my Lord."

You say in a sincere voice, looking him in the eyes for the first time since you had started the walk,

"And also for your interest. Not many men are interested in the thoughts of women these days."

Ronan places a kind and understanding little smile on his lips, nodding in your direction.

"There is nothing to be thankful for, my Lady. And I know it's only a short time since we've begun to know each other, but I enjoy your company."

You nod again, keeping your gaze straight ahead, unable to help but feel how you still feel overwhelmed by the weight of courtship and the fact that you will soon marry him or Lord Alan.

And at the same time, reality dawns on you with undeniable clarity: Ronan and Alan are good men, but neither is him.

While both may be honorable companions, your heart still yearns for someone you can't have, feeling utterly sad and resigned, because it's not fair, not to the two of them either.

But how can you make those feelings go away fast?

And just when things couldn't be more unexpected for you, as you turn down one of the bush paths along with Ronan, you both find yourselves face to face with Aemond accompanied by Lady Floris at his side, who were walking in the opposite direction.

And the air is enveloped with immediate tension.

You knew that eventually the news of your courtship with two possible candidates to give your hand in marriage would reach Aemond's ears, but when your eyes involuntarily meet his, you see only dissatisfaction and restrained fury.

This triggers a whirlwind of emotions within you, trying to disguise your surprise and discomfort, also nerves, as well as you try to focus on your companion, trying to move on and appear unaffected by this.

"Lady Y/N," Lady Floris greets politely with a smile, breaking the silence, "Lord Ronan," she address him, "How lovely to see you both this morning."

"Lady Floris," you reply, trying to remain calm, then look almost fearfully at Aemond, "Prince Aemond," you tilt your head slightly, biting the inside of your cheek.

"My Lady," he answers you in a soft tone.

Ronan at your side also greets Lady Floris in a respectful manner, then turns to Aemond.

"My prince."

"Lord Ronan," says Aemond, in a dismissive tone, observing you attentively and at the same time in seriousness.

Aemond's tone does not go unnoticed by you, with an intensity on his face that does not go unnoticed either, as you struggle to remain calm in the face of the uncomfortable situation.

It is clear that Ronan's presence at your side does not please him at all.

As Lady Floris at his side, she attempts to carry on a polite conversation, oblivious to the tension that has taken over the moment.

"I would like to offer my best wishes to you both on your courtship," Lady Floris begins to say kindly, "Fortunately the prince and I are in the same place as you and understand what it can be to have expectations high in families if you decide to join your houses."

You feel more the knot in your stomach and the discomfort all over your body, not daring to say anything regarding that, while Aemond remains just as silent as you.

And fortunately Ronan is the one who appreciates Floris' gesture, while Aemond keeps his eye on you with an expressionless but penetrating gaze, also watching Ronan from time to time.

"Thank you, my Lady," Ronan replies courteously, "Your words are most kind and we wish you both well in your future marriage."

"Of course. We hope to see you both at our upcoming wedding," Floris adds with a kind and visibly excited smile, while you again feel your heart give a painful jump.

And since you say nothing, nor does Aemond, Ronan hastens to speak.

"Of course, my Lady. We will see you there."

With pain in your eyes, your gaze involuntarily drifts to Aemond for a brief moment, where he is already watching you. And in that fleeting moment, the looks in both of your eyes convey more than words can express.

With a polite bow, the four of you take your leave and each pair continues on their own way.

You try to focus on your steps along with Ronan's, but the echo of tension and unspoken feelings leave an unpleasant sensation throughout your body. And that's when you hope that soon, both you and he will find peace in your respective futures.

But it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Neither did acceptance.

Aemond continued the rest of his walk with Floris in the gardens with his mind still focused on the encounter with you and that boy clearly unworthy of you. He didn't even pay attention to what Floris was talking about, he had not the slightest interest and obliged, he had to complete his walk with her contributing very little to the conversation.

Even he himself could not avoid the feeling of suffocation and frustration that invaded him. Seeing Y/N, his Y/N, next to that poor boy, one of his possible candidates to take her hand in marriage, provoked a mixture of indescribable emotions inside him and he made a great effort to keep his composure.

He feels furious and emotionally on the verge of exploding, like a mad man, with impotence filling him with rage.

Why should she marry a man who was not him? Why should he be forced to witness her courtship with another man? Why couldn't he have realized that she also loves him the same way he loves her and reacted sooner?

He felt that he was really going to go crazy, so as soon as he bids farewell to Floris and leaves her in the company of the other ladies of the Court, he heads for the training yard.

Big mistake.

As soon as his presence arrives at this place of the Red Keep, the figure of Lord Ronan pulls him out of his thoughts and draws his full attention.

At least he has the decency to hold a sword.

He thinks to himself, watching as he finds himself engrossed in his own training, accompanied by other knights, practicing his sword moves. He also thinks about focusing on his own training, but finds it a better idea to meet the candidate of his dear friend Y/N, wanting to know what truly awaits her.

After all, Lord Ronan is not the only candidate, Lord Alan also frequents the training yard and will eventually see him as well. So with a determined step, he approaches him.

"Lord Ronan," he says in a cool but controlled tone as he approaches, heading towards the weapons table.

"Prince Aemond," Ronan replies, stopping his training and turning to him, "It is good to see you here as well, my prince."

His gaze assesses Ronan closely, noting his every gesture and movement. And despite the anger still flowing through his veins, he remains calm, not revealing too much of his thoughts.

"I guess you don't train enough at home. House Redwyne is best known for making sweet wine from the grapes that grow on your island," he comments neutrally, watching Ronan's position with meticulous attention.

"Ah... no, my prince," Ronan says politely, "I have had training lessons with the sword, among other weapons, since I was a young boy. So have other members of my family and I assure you we are well trained," he replies, adjusting the position of his sword, "After all, a knight must remain prepared at all times."

"Hm," he says seriously, "And that is what you have accomplished with so many years of training?"

Ronan remains calm in the face of the prince's critical gaze, though Aemond's insinuation resonates with a defiant tone.

"P-pardon me?"

"With those moves is that how you're going to ensure protection for your future wife?" he inquires with a dismissive tone, challenging Ronan with his words.

Tension begins to be felt in the air, the verbal confrontation slipping between the two men. And though Ronan maintains his composure, not wanting his words to affect him, the disdain in the prince's words does not go unnoticed.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my prince," Ronan said calmly, controlling each word to convey determination, "And my duty as protector of my future wife is not limited to combat alone. I suppose there are more important aspects."

Aemond tilts his head, watching him in confusion.

"And what aspects are those, my Lord?" he asks, clearly disinterested.

"Loyalty, anticipation and sacrifice," he replied determinedly. "Protection goes beyond sword skills; it involves being willing to give your all for the person you are sworn to protect."

Ronan's words echoed in the air, filling the space between them with a seriousness that could not be ignored. And Aemond, his brow furrowed, lets out a sigh and watches him more seriously than before.

"Do you hear yourself, my lord? Speaking like the ladies of the Court who read and listen to love ballads," he snaps, watching him in disapproval, "Loyalty, anticipation and sacrifice are not going to protect your future wife from a life-threatening attack," he says and then turns away, taking his sword and a shield from the table.

Ronan swallows hard.

"You need not worry, my prince. Still I assure you that I am well prepared for combat."

"Oh yeah?" he looks at him expectantly, turning to him with his weapons in hands, "Then prove it."

Ronan looks a little confused.

"My prince-

"Come on," he interrupts him, egging him on with defiance, discontent and agitation in his tone and look, "If you're as skillful as you proclaim, then prove it."

The atmosphere grows more tense, as Aemond waits for Ronan to accept his challenge and prove his worth beyond words. Both men hold each other's gazes firmly, with the tension increasing by the second, but neither takes a step back.

The confrontation becomes tangible. Glares charged with a subtle but unmistakable rivalry. And without further words, the air filled with the anticipation of the physical training ahead, as the two head to the center of the training yard, each preparing in their own way.

Aemond tightens his grip on his sword and without hesitation, lunges towards Ronan with fierce determination, causing the poor knight to have little anticipation to protect himself from his sword, but managing to dodge it and answer him in kind.

At first it appears to be casual training, yet Aemond wants to get a reaction out of him.

And between every clash of swords and every move full of speed and precision, at every failure of Ronan, Aemond taunts and shouts questions and insults at him in a defiant voice while demanding superior performance.

And at every failure and every taunt, Ronan's determination grows, also inevitably to the prince's provocations.

"Is that all you can do!?"

Aemond exclaims arrogantly to him, wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to unsettle him.

Ronan growls and focuses on his movements, responding with brutality and force, trying to answer every blow he threw at him, which to Aemond, couldn't be more pathetic and weak movements.

"This is what you plan to defend yourself with? This is what you have learned?" he inquires, mockingly, "What a shame."

Ronan lowers his sword a little, watching him in bewilderment and panting in exhaustion.

"My prince-

He tries to say but Aemond won't let him.

"No," he tells him seriously, "Be a fucking man and fight me back."

Aemond raises his sword again and slams it against his, causing him to lose his balance, while Ronan as best he can defends himself from their attacks, while the combat begins to attract the attention of the other knights and some people of the Court.

And only when Aemond sees that they have just started and he can no longer stand and does not even have more strength in his arms, the confrontation went from a simple duel to a battle without mercy.

And he in a fit of anger and frustration, leads to hit him with his foot in the chest with excessive force, making him gasp in pain and throwing him to the ground, and then walk quickly towards him, with purpose, raising his sword, so Ronan quickly tries to get up, raising his sword, blocking his attack.

Then Aemond's sword dangerously grazes Ronan's shoulder, knocking him back to the ground with a blow to his side.

"My prince-

"You yield!?" he exclaims to him in his madness, bringing the point of his sword to his throat.

"Yes! I yield!"

"Just like that!? So easy!?"

"Prince Aemond!"

He hears someone shout in the distance but he focuses entirely on Ronan below him.

"I yield!"

"He's bleeding!"

"My prince!" comes Criston Cole immediately.

And only at that moment does Aemond stop, breathing shakily, his gaze with barely contained fury. And only at that moment he also notices that Ronan has a wound on his shoulder with which he had brushed his sword earlier, not realizing at the time that he had wounded him.

Ronan presses his free hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, watching him in horror and clearly calling for help.

Aemond squeezes his sword again so hard that it marks his white knuckles, watching everyone around him for a moment, then with a hard stare, turning to him again, angling his body so that only he can hear him.

"You are not worthy of her," he whispers in a low voice, his words laden with disdain and resentment.

And without caring about the stares or even her opponent's injury, he leaves the shield on the ground and with his sword in hand heads towards the interior of the Red Keep's castle.

Aemond knew that eventually what happened at the training yard would reach your ears. He also expected a confrontation about it, but he didn't imagine he would face your fury late at night.

His guards are required to stand guard in different hallways, so taking advantage of the fact that there are none in the hallway by his doors, you quickly make your way there to enter his chamber as fast as your body will allow.

He looks up from his book in his lap, sitting near the fireplace, watching you attentively at once, but before he can say anything, you turn to him with your lips pressed together and annoyance in your eyes.

"Have you lost your mind?" you inquire in a serious and demanding tone, looking for explanations.

And just like you, Aemond isn't having your attitude either. He's annoyed to see how you haven't taken any time at all to come to the defense of that stupid, poor, defenseless boy.

Putting his book aside, he stands up, imposing his presence on you. Despite having to raise your face to face him directly, you don't let his posture intimidate you.

"I see that that... Ronan matters too much to you, my Lady," he says in a dismissive tone, "It took you no time at all to fall for his sure sweet words and promises of love. After all, you and he are very much alike."

You inhale deeply before responding, seeking calm despite his attitude and the tone of his words.

"Ronan and I are getting to know each other, nothing more. Just as you are getting to know Floris Baratheon. But I'm not doing anything against you, yours is for sure, she's going to be your wife. But you can't go hurting and almost killing the men who can be my future husband."

He looks away from yours for a moment, irritated.

"I don't know what you expected, honestly," he tells you seriously and indifferently, "That's what happens in combat when we fight with weapons, Y/N, men get hurt. And if Ronan is weak and wasn't taught well, that's not my problem."

You stand your ground, incredulous to hear his words.

"That doesn't justify what you did. Everyone witnessed how the combat began and it was you who unfairly exploded against him, hurting him," you reproach him with determination. "His wound was deep. He needed eight stitches!"

Aemond, sick of this, averts his gaze from yours and turns his back on you, heading towards his table to pour himself a glass of wine under your confused and incredulous gaze.

"I don't understand why you're so worried, he'll be fine. After all, you still have another possible candidate for your hand, I hear," he says in a tone devoid of emotion, laden with bitterness, "Though I doubt he's much stronger than Ronan."

His voice sounds harsh, his words laden with a bitter resentment that he can barely hide, jealous.

"So this is how things will be?"

You ask him earnestly and sadly, fighting back tears that threaten to escape at any moment.

"You'll go around hurting my suitors until there are none left and I have no chance of marrying anyone else but not you either?"

Tension hangs in the air as you wait for his response, feeling the weight of your words and the clash of emotions between the two of you.

And he remains silent, staring out the window with a hard stare, as if not looking for an answer through the glass, turning his back to you and not daring to look at you at that moment.

Finally the first tear rolls down your cheek and Aemond listens as you gently sniffle your nose, then turns to you, his face showing a mixture of emotions, from hardness to the flash of regret and longing.

And he lets out a defeated sigh.

"That's not what this is about, Y/N," he murmurs in a softer tone, his expression revealing his inner struggle, "They're not worthy of you. Your father is choosing wrong."

And that's when you explode with anger and frustration, unable to contain yourself any longer.

"I just don't understand why you care so much, Aemond!" you exclaim without understanding, "You shouldn't see them as a threat because they are not. You have nothing to do here!"

You face him, as your tears fall silently, with a defiant look and your posture firm, though full of sadness, anguish and confusion, inside and outside. And he too responds to you in kind.

"Of course I do!" he turns to you angrily, exclaiming in his fury, "This does concern me because those fucking men and your father are going to take you away from me! And they have no right!"

And again your emotions boil over, fury and pain getting the best of you.

"Do you even listen to yourself? How irrational you are being?" you inquire, not understanding, "You didn't even do anything in the beginning, you are the prince, the one who had the power to do something about it and you never even once asked for my hand!" you shout at him, your voice full of reproach, sadness and disappointment.

Furious, Aemond turns around and in a burst of anger, throws his hand towards the table, causing the wine jar and the cups to fall to the floor with a deafening clatter. The sudden sound makes you jump and recoil, startled by the noise and force of the act.

He turns his back and heads for the back of his chair, leaning hard against it as he tries to contain his fury. With her breathing rapid and agitated he struggles to regain his composure, his body tensing and closing his eye tightly.

The air becomes tense and the silence uncomfortable, as Aemond fights against himself and you just allow yourself to cry silently.

When he speaks again, with a tinge of bitterness in his gaze, still not turning to look at you and his voice soft but laden with resignation, still holding back his fury.

"I wanted to," he confesses to you, his vulnerability visible, "But my mother and grandsire would never have approved, you know that."

His statement leaves you speechless, with a mixture of sadness and disappointment that he didn't even try, not once and yet...he has the nerve to do this to you.

You remain silent and the disappointment and bitterness reflect even more on your face as the tears run their course, to finally gather your courage and speak.

"Then... let me go," you whisper, it being more of a painful plea than a command.

Silence expands in the room, marking every second with the heaviness of unresolved emotions. And you, overwhelmed with disappointment and pain, understand that you have nothing more to do here and turn to leave.

You don't even care if one of the guards sees you coming out of his chamber, you don't even care if rumors arise seeing you here late at night and everything gets too complicated, you just need to get out of here soon.

And with tears still running down your cheeks and being completely heartbroken, you grab the doorknob. But just as you are about to turn it, his firm and determined hand lands on your waist and turns you towards him, stopping you.

The action takes you by surprise and you look at him without understanding, he doesn't give you time to say anything either as he places one hand on your cheek and the other keeps it firmly on your waist, bringing his body close to yours.

And still without reacting, he moves closer, his warm breath brushing against your face.

"I can't," he murmurs, his voice cracking with anguish, laden with longing and regret, "I can't," he repeats in a whisper, gently caressing your cheek, "I'm sorry."

And just then, without a thought for anyone else and without a care in the world, his lips trap yours in a passionate, desperate kiss.

Paralyzed, surprise takes you completely and you can only feel how every movement of his lips is a mixture of apology and desire, asking you to kiss him back.

His arms wrap firmly around you, clinging to you as if he's going to lose you at any moment. And unable to resist a second longer, with his soft lips and warm mouth on top of yours, he makes the world fade away around you in that instant and you kiss him back.

You place your arms around his neck and cling to him completely, moving your lips in sync with his, as he presses your body against his and lets out a gasp at the wonderful feeling of having you this way with him.

And you feel as if you are floating, this being exactly what you had dreamed and prayed for so much, wishing and praying to the Gods that this is not also one of your cruel dreams.

But this is real. It is finally happening.

So you allow yourself to lose yourself completely in it, not thinking about the consequences and not caring about anything else, as Aemond walks you around without stopping kissing you for a single moment, until his feet touch the edge of his bed.

"I love you. I love you so much, my sweet girl."

He whispers into your lips, watching you with all that love and desire in his gaze, noticing your swollen and parted lips, watching him back with the same intensity and completely surprised to hear his words.

And without saying anything back, with the actions speaking for themselves, you kiss him again, feeling that urge to cry, but of happiness.

Aemond falls down sitting on the edge of his bed and you take a seat on his lap, placing your knees on either side of his hips, clinging to his neck and kissing him slow, deep, making you feel everything.

"I love you too," you murmur against his lips, watching him with nothing but affection and desire.

He kisses you again desperately, feeling something warm in his chest at your words, holding your waist with one of his hands and the other beginning to lift the edges of your skirt, making his way to touch your bare thigh.

You gasp into his lips, feeling his warm hand and the cool metal of his rings, only to tilt your head as he begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, trying to find your sensitive spot to make you shiver.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaving a kiss on your collarbone, lifting his gaze to you.

"A-aemond," you gasp, feeling the hardness beneath you.

You reach up with one of your hands and remove his eye patch, wanting to see everything about him, instantly reflecting the faint light of his blue sapphire, looking so beautiful and dazzling.

You smile softly at the sight of him, then leave a soft kiss on his cheek, beginning to leave a small trail down his face to kiss him on the lips, as his hand on your thigh makes gentle, firm strokes on your skin.

Slowly, he lifts his hand from your waist to the laces of your dress, watching you attentively afterwards and needing first of all your permission. And you help him untie the knots yourself.

Your front of the dress loosens and revealing your white gown underneath, Aemond lifts one of his hands and gently traces your skin between the valley of your breasts, making you shudder and shiver, then stops at the straps, watching you again.

"May I?"

With the blush on your cheeks and the nerves in your lower abdomen, really wanting to do this, you nod.

"Yes."

His hand slowly slides the strap down your shoulder and arm, then exposes your breasts to him, making you feel more nervous, but you feel completely safe to be doing this with him.

Truly everything that happens next, giving him your mainhead and letting his calloused hands explore all over your naked body, is by choice and you think to yourself that if there is one man you would willingly trust with this, it's him.

And just as the tip of his hot, hard, heavy cock makes its way between your walls, he knows exactly how to comfort you and make you feel comfortable. Instantly blood stains his sheets, but he doesn't care at all.

And when he begins to move inside you, slowly and very carefully, waiting for you to get used to it, he wipes away every tear that escapes your eyes and comforts you with his hands and kisses, making sure that at all times you are well.

"You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight, my love."

And despite his obscene words, his actions are anything but, his movements careful and careful not to hurt you, asking you how you feel.

He kisses you sweetly and caresses your breasts, he makes sure to pleasure you too, as he understands that this is not just about him and the act is not just about fucking, but him making love to you.

He growls into your lips and you gasp as he begins to move with more purpose inside you, feeling the sweat all over your body and forehead, clinging to his shoulders and gently digging your nails into his skin also lightly illuminated by sweat.

"Do you have any idea how long I imagine this?" he whispers against your lips, moving his hips and pounding that sweet spot inside you, making you moan beneath him.

But he quiets your moans with his lips, not wanting anyone out there to hear you, it would be too risky.

"Aemond," you say his name in a moan, biting your lips.

"What's wrong, my sweet girl? Does it hurt?" he says to start moving more gently.

"N-no. It just... feels so good," you manage to say over the sensual movement of his hips that make you see stars behind your eyes.

The act doesn't last long and very soon Aemond makes you reach your highest point, making you experience a sensation you had no idea about all over your body and he also spills all his seed inside you, grunting and moaning from the pleasure as he feels your walls squeezing him deliciously.

And then, both of you sweaty and trying to catch your breath, you embrace and take a moment in his bed.

You feel a tingle between your legs that is more than gratifying and Aemond, for the first time in a long time, feels at peace and completely at ease, especially having you in his arms at this moment.

There was no time for regrets and worries, it was all done. So the two of you dive into that little world where only the two of you exist.

But even though you didn't want to think about it, you think about the future, with uncertainty beginning to invade you, as you inhale Aemond's scent, hiding your face between his neck and chest, embracing him as he encloses you in his arms and gently caresses your bare shoulder with his thumb, listening to his soft breathing above you.

You let out a sigh, close your eyes and wish you could stay like this forever, starting to feel your eyes water and that huge worry in your chest for what you just did.

When Aemond speaks.

"In the morrow I will talk to your father and ask for your hand."

He says in a soft voice and everything in you comes to a complete standstill, listening to him attentively.

"I'm sure he won't be able to resist my proposal. No one will be able to stop us when they know I have claimed your mainhead, not even my mother and grandsire. And then... we will have our Valyrian wedding and there will be no turning back," he murmurs and then places a soft smile on his lips, "You will be mine, as much as you already are now."

You feel him leave a soft kiss in your hair and you smile softly, moving closer towards him, if possible.

"Sounds like an excellent plan, my love," you whisper, grateful.

And finally you can be at peace now.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (1)

1. The wolf and the sheep

MASTERLIST

Summary: Cregan Stark takes the capital

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon 

Wordcount: 2.2k

Notes: Sorry for the delay people jeje, anyways, this is a warm up for the real thing, this is and will be very political, I hope it can go smoother than this

King Aegon, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, was dead

He had been poisoned by his own council

As Cregan Stark and an army of twenty thousand men strong, plus the survivors of the Riverlands, known as “the Lads”, and the Vale by the sea, all sieged the Capital in name of their late Queen Rhaenyra, he didn’t think of surrendering, he intended to keep fighting the war, killing hundreds of thousand more 

He was never going to surrender, and he was going to get himself, and everyone else on the Red Keep, killed

The king had grown mad in the last year

How couldn’t he? he had lost his entire family but his daughter, and his dragon, and he was the cause for millions of deaths all over the seven Kingdoms

It had finally catched up to him 

And he was going to harm the Princess, little Prince Aegon, and Baela Targaryen

Corlys Velaryon couldn’t let that happen 

So in the crack of dawn, the servants found Aeggon dead in his bed, he seemed like he had perished in his sleep, but he was still holding a cup of wine in his hand

People celebrated his death

And now people could call him the usurper out loud

Because everyone knows the truth…

Cregan Stark was coming

They were dark weeks in which the wolf was looming over the herd of sheep

And the remains of the small council were still discussing what to do, Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, Maester Olwyle, who was let out of his imprisonment by Rhaenyra, and Aegon’s former King’s guard, Gyles Belgrave,  and other Lords from higher houses, Borros’ younger brother

“Aegon the younger should be named heir”, said one

“King”, corrected another, “we are too late to name heirs, someone must sit the iron Throne”

“We have her older daughter” said Corlys, “if we don’t name her then all the war was for nothing, because we would be denying her in favor of the male heir”

“Let's marry them, they will rule together”

“Aegon is six, the princess is shy of turning eight and ten!”, fighted Corlys

“Aegon must marry princess Jahaera, to finally unify both fronts, and end this war once and for all”

“They are children”, fought another

“Addam Velaryon is alive, I will marry him to the Princess”, demanded Corlys

“Of course you will, so your bastard son will rule?”

“There is a inconvenience”, muttered maester Orwylde

“Which is?”, asked the Sea Snake

“According to the pact of Ice and Fire, a treaty signed by the late Prince Jacaerys and Cregan Stark, the princess is set to marry the Wolf of Winterfell” 

“That was two years ago”, said Corlys, “many things had happened since then”

“Stark is marching on the capital in revenge for his Queen!”, the old man fought, “as said treaty dictated”

“When he arrives… who will he find on the Iron Throne?”, asked Tyland, “his betrothed? or her six year-old brother?”

“It is dangerous to have Cregan Stark as a King consort”

“I think it’s exactly what we need”, muttered Corlys

“You just now wanted to marry the princess to your bastard!” 

“Where is the princess?”, asked Larys Strong, with a unsteady smile on his face

“She is her rooms”

“That girl is… she is not well!”, muttered Tyland

“She is traumatized…”, said another

“I checked her myself, she has no signs of being… unhinged nor unstable”, muttered Olwylde 

“Aegon made his dragon eat her mother alive in front of her”

“Aegon, a six year old boy was also there present, the one you would prefer to sit on the Iron Throne, a child!”

“She will seat the Iron Throne!”, said Corlys, “we must agree to it, don’t we?”

“Yes we have to” 

“Aye”, said Maester Orwylde 

“Has anyone spoken to her?”, muttered Tyland

“No since Aegon died”

“The usurper”, called Corlys

“We cannot call him that, we served him…”, remembered the Lannister 

“Cregan Stark, and the armies of the Riverlands are marching on the capital”, remembered the Sea Snake

“Do we know what his intentions are?”

“To take the capital for the blacks”, muttered Corlys, “and right now, we are all Greens”, the room was silent

“We have to please the wolf” 

“We have the Queen”

“We have to surrender the city to Stark”

Lord Baratheon just watched, amused, Larys had his eyes on him, curious about what he wanted to say

“Open the gates, we receive Stark”, he demanded, and everyone looked at him

“He will kill us all”

“Not if we don’t put resistance”, he tried, “the girl or the boy, whichever we place on the throne, is from Rhaenyra’s blood, not our Queen, but our enemy, Stark is coming here to kill us, and make sure one of them sits the Iron Throne, if you want to survive this week, i say we grab the kid, send him to the wolf and the Lads as a sign of good faith”

“What about the girl?”

“The road is no place for a princess”, he continued, “she should stay in the Keep, safe”

“As insurance”, mocked Tyland, “in case something happens to the boy”

“We send Aegon to The Lads, not to Stark”, said Alard Baratheon, “see if the Wolf takes the bait”

“She can’t know”

So the council grabbed Aegon the younger from his rooms, gathered a large caravan and delivered him to the Tullys, and leader of an army

While you… remained in your rooms unaware of what was going on.

. . .

The realms had been submerged in chaos for the last two whole years, brothers fighted sisters, kin usurped kin, dragons danced with dragons, and the results where incalculable loss of people, the fall of the greatest dynasty in Westeros, and the death of Dragons, the most incredible and powerful creatures

because dreams didn’t make the Targaryen Kings, Dragons did 

The Red Keep, House of the Dragon since a hundred years ago, had seen four monarchs in the last three years, people had come and gone, killed for their alliances, traded for others, like a mythological creature.

One man, with one monarch to serve lost his head, two more, following a different monarch rose on its place

Now the castle lay inert, quiet, those who followed Aegon had been decimated, those who had followed Rhaenyra were killed or chased away, now everyone who resided there seemed to be replaceable, taken for granted.

It wasn’t the home of the reigning family anymore

It was a carcass, waited to be filled by the next power who dared to take it for themselves, waited to be lived again by those faithful to the next Queen or King of the Seven Kingdoms

The castle was grim, silent, Viserys, Alicent, Aegon, Rhaenyra, and then Aegon again, all of them had tried to make his mark inside these walls, so now it had taken a form of some sort of Chimera, a monsters with a different head, body and feet, a part of each animal, a part of each monarch.

The colors gold, green, black and red, one started where the other ended, melted together sewing the bloody story of what it was about to be known like the Dance of the dragons, it was upsetting

Uncertainty

Doubt

Three survivors of what it once a big and powerful family

Three broken children

A empty castle

A divided Kingdom

An empty carcass, and no brave men left to fill it

None but one

Cregan Stark had come home after the defeat of the winter wolves, to gather a powerful army of forty thousand men strong.

The mission was to eliminate the remain of the Green forces, and strengthen the position of his Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Even though as he gathered his army, his Queen had been assassinated by her brother

That did not deter Cregan Stark, if anything, it made his mission even more imperative, now, he was up for revenge

He knew Rhaenyra had two remaining children, her oldest and only daughter, and her son Aegon the younger. The first one, two years ago, he agreed to wed, back when she was the second older child, behind Jacaerys, and a princess with nothing to her name but to make alliances

It was for her he marched south, to keep his word to her mother

He planned in taking the capital, no matter the cost, he planned on killing every single last green, even though The Lads had gotten ahead of him, eliminating Borros baratheon and the remains of his army, the Green army

As he had no news of the capital since he left Winterfell, he knew the Usurper sat the Iron Throne, no, he didn’t actually, he sat on a wooden chair at the feet of it, since he couldn’t even climbed up the steps for it

He was going to surrender the city or die at his hands

He was the late Queen’s biggest supporter, and he failed her, he took too long, he had to make amends, make things right

He, and his army, was going to mach to all corners of the Kingdoms, until everyone was accounted for their part in the usurpation of his Queen

A rider reached his army when he was passing through Harrenhal

King Aegon the usurper was dead, killed by his own men

But this did nothing but to disgust the wolf

Snaked inhabited the capital, no one else

His new Queen, and his prince were there, in midst of traitors and turncloaks, so the news of the Usurper being dead only encouraged him to march south even Quicker

The Lads were ruling those zones, assumed to ambush everyone who passes through the king’s road, but even though his scouts encountered men from the Riverlands, they did nothing to prevent him from passing

A silent truce, and agreement, they were on the same size

They did not join one another, but The Lads let Cregan Stark pass through the RIverlands uninterrupted 

Independently from Aegon the younger traveling to Harrenhal to The Lads as a gesture of good fiat, even though the young prince was part of Cregan’s mission, his main goal was to bring justice to the realm

And to keep you safe

With prince Aegon in his power, and the main commanders of the Lads, Cregan reached King’s Landing on the twentieth day of the sith moon of the year 131 AC

He found the city gates wide open, waiting for him

He found the city completely ready for the taking, the people didn’t stop him, he couldn’t see soldiers anywhere, when he arrived at the Keep, the small council was right there, on the steps leading to the great Hall where the Iron Throne was.

“Lord Stark”, greeted Corlys

Cregan was still atop his horse, looking down at this.. things, more serpents than men

He dismounted, not even caring to respond to the calling, his household, his most trusted men entered the keep, swords in hand

“This city is now under my control”, he demanded, “I have taken it, in the name of Late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen!”, he said out loud

The soldiers there did surrender their weapons, as the northerners spread all over the courtyard and the main streets of the city 

A pack of wolves in a hunt

Cregan paid no mind to the weakened remains of the Green council, and he found no real authority there, Cregan Stark started to give orders

“Send word to Dragonstone, to send whomever is left from Queen Rhaenyra’s council”, he said to the maester Orwylde, who just nodded and limped away to fulfill the order. “Including a new maester”, he said with a demanding look on his face 

Nobody questioned him

He was tall, and broad, long black hair secured by braids, two piercing eyes and a reputation in battle.

The wolf had come to the capital

He had taken the city without even shedding a drop of blood, without even unsheathing his sword 

He entered the throne room, and he was not surprised to see it empty, The Iron Throne right there.

A strange wooden chair with wheels at the foot

“Have that burned in the courtyard, where everyone can see”, he demanded to his second in command, he nodded and took three men with him to fulfill his order, “For every green dragon banner that I see I will behead a Lannister, a Baratheon or a Hightower!”, he said aloud, and at least ten men from the Keep ran to get rid of the sickening symbol

He took only one step up the Iron Throne, he only needed the one, he turn around, to meet the council of traitors and cowards 

“Where is she?”, he asked out loud

“Where is who, my lord?”, asked Corlys Velaryon

“Where is the Queen?”, his voice resounded en the entire Throne Room

taglist! <3

@lyannesworld @unlesshouse @mxtokko

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Rĩna Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | Prologue

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, I wanted to write something raunchy with plot, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed.

Chapter 1 | Masterlist

Prologue | Desire and Need

Dear Princess Saera Targaryen

In my old age I have begun to truly appreciate the concept of family and it has become a necessity for me.

You are my only Aunt remaining and while I understand you may be still offended by your Father and my Grandfather's transgressions. I would like to extend a show of goodwill to my dear Aunt.

I understand from word of mouth you have a high bride price on your youngest daughter. I have a son, Aemond, who is unwed and unbetrothed and is about the age of your daughter.

If you are willing to hear it. Bring your daughter to King's Landing and prove her purity. In turn I will legitimize your child making her Princess Y/N Targaryen, wed her to Prince Aemond Targaryen. With double her price to go along with it.

You yourself will be welcome to come and go from King’s Landing at your whim.

Viserys of House Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.

Saera read over the letter with a scoff, throwing it onto the dark wooden table. She is far gone from her prime, at the age of two and sixty it has begun to dull her greatly. Even if she desired to make such a voyage she would no doubt die before she even made it.

Even to ask this of her was a slap in the face. Her pride was far too great to give up her daughter to Westeros, a land she despised. After her Father all but banished her from Westeros she had to make a life for herself elsewhere and she ended up in Volantis becoming a proprietor of a successful pleasure house.

Saera, too deep in her rage to notice her youngest and only daughter entering the chambers until she swiped the piece of paper out of her tight grip. Tearing off a small piece in the process.

“Getting mad like this isn’t good for your health, Mother. You’ll surely break something.”

Y/N Targaryen was a true marvel of Targaryen beauty, your fathers genes never stood a chance.

Silver white hair and soft purple eyes with her thin dresses of purple, her features would lead one to believe she was soft and innocent but like her mother she had an innate want for power and comfort.

The Valyrian girl was not content in Volantis, the city-state reeked of elephant dung. It was blisteringly hot day or night and there was no difference. When her Mother complained about King’s Landing it sounded miles better than Volantis, true or not.

“Haven’t you learned to not take as you please girl!”

Her mother reached out to snag the letter from her thieving daughter but she was faster. Fast paced to the other side of the room where her aging mother could not reach without help.

“King Viserys wants to make me a Princess?!”

Y/N yelped out in joy, Princess was such a sweet citrine word to her ears. As a young girl she would fantasize of having the same title as her mother once did. She would pout and cry that her mother was a Princess and she wasn’t.

“Foolish girl, you fantasize too much. No one is making you a Princess, it’s a personal jab against me!”

Her Mother scoffed once again, she will have to witness her daughter have another Princess phase as she did when she was a growing child. All because her Nephew was dying and the Targaryens wished to bother her once again.

“Let me go to Westeros please Mother! It’s my dream! It’s not fair!”

Y/N puffed up and pleaded to her mother like a child begging for extra dessert past their bedtime.

It was too late for Saera to say anything, Y/N was already lost in her fantasies. She wondered of this Prince Aemond, he would be about her age… would he be handsome? If he wasn’t promised to someone else by now maybe no other lady wants him? Or maybe the Gods are saving him just for her!

“Send a Raven immediately Mother! I must go to King's Landing now!”

Saera sighed deeply, Y/N reminded her of herself. Wanting to be freed from the life she’d been given, wanting something different and when given the choice went for it. Just so happens to be in different directions. She’d been waiting a long time for someone to get her only daughter's approval, so if she desired this Prince and this life…

“Gods be good… very well. However! I will be forced to give you a lesson in Westerosi standards, you wild child.”

[drakaripykiros130ac]

What is it with this Targaryens are blood supremacists bullshit?

Let’s make some things clear right now:

1. Targaryen blood is superior. It’s not some sort of twisted Nazi belief, like some people make it out to be. It’s actual fact.

Sue the Targaryens for constantly pointing that out and lacking modesty. It doesn’t make it less true.

Their blood gives them godly features and the ability to ride dragons. The hypocrisy of Andals never ceases to amaze me: they have a tendency to complain about how Targaryens have ‘queer customs’ but what actually bothers them is that they choose to keep their ‘superior blood’ within their family and not share it with others. Andals criticize Targaryens for being different and yet trample over one another for a chance to marry into their family so that their offspring would have godly features and ride dragons. If Targaryens are so “bad”, then why don’t Andals keep to themselves too?

2. When did it become an actual problem to want to stick to your own kind?

Valyrians are not originally from Westeros. Their home was destroyed. They found another home, of people who constantly judge them and look at them differently despite hundreds of years after conquest.

Despite the many flaws in the show, there is something that actually stuck with me: when Daemon said, “Valyria is gone. We don’t belong anywhere.”

This actually broke my heart a little and got me thinking: how many Targaryens actually felt like strangers in their own home despite having been born and raised there?

I mean, Andals constantly treat them differently and yet blame them for wanting to stick to their own Valyrian kind (Targaryens, Velaryons and Celtigars).

The Conquest in itself is no excuse. The Kingdoms were divided and at constant war with one another, which destroyed the smallfolk. The Targaryens took away their individual powers, united the Kingdoms and gave the people a better chance at peace. The Andals are pissed because they lost their autonomy? Well, considering what they used that autonomy for, they shouldn’t have had it in the first place.

I applaud the Targaryens for taking charge and conquering Westeros for a better future. I mean, do you honestly believe that they would have been accepted in Westeros if they hadn’t? That they would have showed up with their dragons, asked to be a part of the Andals’ world and they would have been accepted with hugs and kisses? Don’t make me laugh. They would have never survived if the Andals kept control of Westeros.

And do keep in mind that if their intentions were actually bad, the Targaryens would have turned Westeros into the new Valyria. They didn’t do that though, did they? They even accepted and converted to their faith.

3. Valyrians are actually attracted to their own kind. So what? It’s their custom and nature. It’s the one thing they asked for. The only exception. To be able to keep their traditions of marrying within their family, not only in order to keep their blood pure for the purpose of controlling dragons, but also because they feel comfortable with one another. They connect with one another. They don’t want to lose ties with their true home, with their history, language, culture etc.

Andals will never be able to understand Valyrians. It’s called having a connection with someone. It can be both physical and emotional (like it was with Daemon and Rhaenyra). Why is that such a crime?

Targaryens are constantly criticized for wanting to stick to their own kind, yet the Andals have been treating them like strangers for hundreds of years simply because they are different.

Who is the blood supremacist here?

Who are the ones who constantly discriminate and create the division lines? Answer: the Andals.

[stheresya]

fascinating how Sandor is probably the most northern man from the South. Like he has the prevalent northern look (dark hair and grey eyes + he's often mistaken for Arya’s dad), he shares the North's disdain for pompousness and knighthood, and he employs the Far North's method of courtship which involves putting a blade to the throat of the girl he’s into. He's practically a First Man lost among Andals.

[midnightfiireworks]

SEXUAL PREFERENCES | ANDAL BRASK

bold   —   always applies. italic   —   sometimes applies / depends on the person or situation.  strike  —  never applies  /  hard limit.

—  INCLINATION    /   HABITS :   is  submissive | is  dominant  |  prefers  to  top  |  prefers  to  bottom  | likes  to  switch  |  identifies  as  heterosexual  |  identifies  as  homosexual  | identifies  as  bisexual  | identifies  as  pansexual |  identifies  as  demisexual  |  identifies  as  asexual  |  enjoys  sex  with  men  |  enjoys  sex  with  women  |  enjoys  sex  with  aliens  |   enjoys  sex  with  androids exos |   enjoys  sex  with  monsters  |  enjoys  sex  with  any  sex  /  gender  |  enjoys  sex  with  multiple  people  at  once | initiates | waits  for  partner  to  initiate  |  spits  | swallows  |  prefers  sex  in  the  morning  |  prefers  sex  at  night  |  will  have  sex  anytime  |  no  sex  drive  |  low  sex  drive  |  average  sex  drive  |  high  sex  drive |  hypersexual  |  fluctuating  sex  drive.

— BODY   /    APPEARANCE : small  build  |  medium  build  | athletic  build |  muscular  build |  curvy  build  |  voluptuous  build  | old build |  wears  boxers  |  wears  briefs  |  wears  boxer  briefs  | wears  lingerie  |  goes  ‘ commando ’ |  shaves / waxes  | manscapes |  doesn’t  shave / wax  | cup  size  a – c | cup  size  d – f  |  1 – 5"  in  length  | 6 – 9″  in  length |  10”  or  over  in  length.

—   SOUNDS :   is  silent / makes  little  to  no  sounds  |  is  very  quiet  | is  very  loud  | grows  in  volume  over  time  | bites hand / partner / pillow  to  muffle  themselves  | calls  out  partner’s  name  | curses |  growls  | fakes / exaggerates |  prefers  a  quiet  partner  |  prefers  a  loud / appropriately  vocal  partner  |  prefers  a  responsive  partner |  no preference towards partner’s volume  |  is  turned  on  by  dirty  talk  |  is  turned  off  by  dirty  talk.

—   TURN  ONS    /    KINKS :   having  their  hands  pinned |  pinning  their  partner’s  hands  |  having  their  hair  pulled |  pulling  their  partner’s  hair |  being  watched ��( by  their  partner ) | being  watched  ( by  a  third  party ) | watching their partner  | receiving  oral | giving  oral | calling  their  partner  ‘ daddy ’  | being  called  ‘ daddy ’ |  calling  their  partner  ‘ mommy ‘ | being  called  ‘ mommy ‘ | calling  their  partner  ‘ master ‘ | being  called  ‘ master ‘ | calling  their  partner  ‘ mistress ‘ | being  called  ‘ mistress ‘ |  giving praise | receiving praise |  biting / marking  | being  bitten  /  marked |  spanking  |  being  spanked |  teasing  | being teased  | having  toys  used  on  them  |  using  toys  on  their  partner | giving anal | receiving  anal  | choking | being  choked  | dirty  talk |  being  tied  up  |  tying  their  partner  up  |  being  worshiped |  worshiping  their  partner  |  humiliating  | being  humiliated |  degrading  |  being  degraded  |  being  pegged  |  pegging  their  partner  |  being  edged |  edging  |  anonymous  sex  | blood  play  | breeding  | chastity devices | clothed / partially clothed |  condoms  |  deep - throating  |  gun  play  |  intercrural sex  | knife  play | lingerie | nipple  play  |  orgasm  denial  | overstimulation  | pregnancy  |  prostate milking  |  public  sex |  rimming  |  roleplay  | sadism / masochism  |  size  difference  |  somnophilia |  squirting.

—    PLACES:  airplane |  alleyway |  bath |  beach  | bedroom | boat |  bus  | car | cathedral / church |  cemetery  |  closet  |  concert  |  dressing room  |  elevator  |  empty or abandoned building  |  field  | forest  | gym  |  home bathroom  | hospital |   kitchen  |  library |  movie  theatre  |  museum  | ocean  | parking lot |  planetarium  |  pool  | public bathroom |  rooftop  | school |  sex  club  | shower |  tent  |  terrace  |  train  | workplace.

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Team Green stans and Dany antis have no right to call Daenerys and Rhaenyra for any kind of nickname.

It's Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Queen of Meeren, Breaker of Shackles, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and Mother of Dragons for you not Dany.

Same thing for Rhaenyra, it's not Rhae or Nyra is: Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen first of her name. Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

If you are feeling lazy just called them Queen Rhaenyra or Queen Daenerys, but you lost the right to nicknames when you misunderstood the books so badly. Argue with the wall.

[thestarlightforge]

Game of Thrones ended in a seemingly endless series of nauseating disasters we can never unsee or truly reverse, and Rhaenyra is a MESS (/affectionate) who will almost certainly die a violent, horrible death.

But (in the show canon anyway):

Daenerys Stormborn—the first of her name, the breaker of chains, queen of the andals and the first men, khaleesi of the great grass sea, the girl who saved the world (no matter what character assassination came afterwards), the unburnt and the mother of dragons—is the princess who was promised. Azor Ahai returned.

And her direct forebear—though the full truths of Rhaenyra’s identity & sexuality were lost to the histories (i.e. Fire & Blood), as happens so often (& HOTD comments on)—is a powerful, imperfect, caring, messy, orange-cat-energy, fierce, amazingly complex queer person, the largest strokes of whose life centered the love of several women.

Daenerys gets to go down in queer history—both in-universe and in our real life popular culture—with the branch of House Targaryen full of black people, queer people, and awesome women riding dragons.

After S8, I didn’t think I could ever love these shows the same again. But House of the Dragon has captured my heart. ❤️

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

god's of the sky

Three

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader, Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

108 AC Dragonstone

Vermithor screeched circling the castle of Dragonstone along Caraxes and Syrax. You sat next to your brother as he showed Rhaenyra his sword Darksister. The waves of blackwater bay crashed against the many cliffs of the island.

Rhaenyra quickly lost interest in her uncle's sword and ran away to play in the grass, you stayed watching your niece.

"What are you thinking about?" Daemon asked placing a stray strand of your silver hair behind your ear.

"I think that... that Aemma will die soon." You muttered staring at the endless sea, Daemon stilled and stared at you curiously.

"What makes you say that?" He questioned following your gaze.

"The pregnancies are killing her, Viserys is adamant about having a son. Until she delivers a boy he will not stop." You said watching seven year old Rhaenyra play in the meadow.

"He wants a son so I can stop being his her." Your brother answered.

"You are not his heir." Daemon furrowed his brows staring at you expectantly "Viserys never named you his heir, you chose to believe that you are but you're not. I do not think you would make a good King... You're a formidable warrior and dragon ride yes but you lack patience."

Daemon chuckled

"If I'm not his heir then who is? He has no son, by law I am his successor." Your brother was quick to anger, you sighed as you saw rage bubbling inside him.

"Rhaenyra is his heir."

"Rhaenyra is a girl. The council of 101 AC established an iron precedent on matters of succession. The Iron Throne could not pass to a woman, or to a male descendant of a woman." Daemon said remembering the succession crisis.

"I know the law Daemon I was there. Times change..." You refused the Andals tradition of male primogeniture. "In old Valyria men and women were equal, the eldest child was the heir. The decision to put our brother on the throne was made because we rule a country populated by Andals with different customs."

"You're too smart for your own good. If you weren't as pretty you would be a second Vaegon." You chuckled at Daemon's joke. Uncle Vaegon was an archmaester in the citadel, a brooding and cold man. You have met your uncle a few times, he wasn't welcoming or nice but he knew of your passion for books. He lend you many books that resided in the citadel.

"Uncle Vaegon is smart." You smiled at your brother.

"Vaegon is a boring, cold old man."

"He is one and forty."

"You're very adamant on defending Vaegon, perhaps you hold something more than fondness for your uncle?" Daemon laughed and a blush of embarrassment coated your cheeks.

"I am defending our uncle because he doesn't deserve your insults." You muttered bringing your knees to your chin. Your brother chuckled and threw his arm around you and he kissed the top of your head.

"I am merely jesting sweet girl."

"I know... Will you be leaving again?" You asked your brother quietly.

"Perhaps, I have to return to Runestone by the order of our brother." Daemon said with venom in his words. You hummed and leaned on his shoulder.

"I do not want to see you go, the court is so boring without your squabbles with every noble." You mumbled, your brother chuckled.

"And you are better?" He questioned "You hate court with every fiber of your being."

"I do not hate court is it simply boring. With Grandsire no-one cares about me, it is Rhaenyra they want." You said tears burning behind your eyes. "It is her they call the realms delight while I rot in the shadows."

"Hmm... perhaps you could use a change of scenery?" Daemon muttered and you immediately perked up.

"Can we go to Essos?!" You asked quickly, your brother smiled.

"Perhaps, or you can go to the Vale with me." You nodded happily and hugged Daemon.

"I wish to see Valyria." You whispered in his shoulder, Daemon tensed.

"I know but you mustn't... Do you know our great aunt's story?"

"Which great aunt? Rhaena?" You asked curiously sitting in Daemon's lap.

"Not Rhaena, her daughter Aerea."

"She died of a fever." You answered remembering your great aunt.

"Not entirely sweet girl. One night Aerea snuck into Dragonmont and claimed Balerion, no one has seen her or the black dread for over a year but one day she returned. Aerea was severely ill as was Balerion, she was almost unrecognizable; she was stick thin, and whatever clothes she still wore were nothing more than tatters. Her hair was matted and a tangled mess, and her eyes were bloody. The knight that carried her to the maester said that he felt her fever through his armor and something was moving inside her body." You listened intensely to the story "Aerea's fever was one unlike anything he had seen before. The septon described her as burning, with a red skin and having barely an ounce of flesh upon her bones, appearing gaunt and starved. Swellings moved under her skin, Barth said she was cooking from within. Smoke came from her mouth, nose, and her nether regions. Aerea's eyes cooked within her skull until they burst. When the princess was lowered into the tub of ice, "slimy, unspeakable things" making horrible sounds emerged from under her skin—one as long as his arm—but the "creatures of heat and fire" died from the cold of the ice."

You listened horrified to the story your brother was saying, it was during your grandsire's rule. But what did Aerea's illness had to do with Valyria. Daemon noticing your confusion continued.

"Septon Barth speculated that Balerion, not Aerea, had chosen their destination; as likely the only living creature in the world that had known Valyria before it was destroyed in the Doom, Balerion had returned home, where accursed creatures as those found inside Aerea now lived."

“Does that mean that dragons live in Valyria?" You asked curiously only one thing on your mind.

"Those creatures inside Aerea were not dragons sweet girl." Daemon responded. "If you wish to know more of these beasts Septon Barth wrote a book about dragon origins."

"That book is looked down upon..." You mumbled.

"The citadel only wishes to give us information they deem suitable, that doesn't mean you shouldn't read the book." Your brother mused "I just happen to have a copy..."

"Brother please! Can you lend it to me! Please!" You pleaded grabbing Daemon's shoulders and shooting his body with little strength you had. Your elder brother laughed and nodded.

"In return I have a favour to ask of you..." He said mysteriously you quieted down and nodded.

"I'll do anything!" You said, Daemon tapped his cheek with his finger. You smiled and left a smooch on his face.

"We should be returning soon or else our brother might strangle me." Daemon mused.

"Rhaenyra!" You shouted, the girl turned quickly and ran towards you. "Come, we must return." You said and grabbed her hand, you glanced up at the sky to see your dragons in the sky. It was as if they could read your thoughts, quickly abandoning their chase and landing on the ground.

You smiled and skipped towards the bronze fury, you scratched the scales under his maw. The dragon purred happily leaning into your touch.

"Once we return I shall order that a deer be brought to your cave." You said in your mother tongue, knowing of your dragons preference for deer. You easily climbed the large dragon and left Dragonstone.

...

You entered your chambers clad in bronze dragon leather mimicking the scales of your mount.

"Your Highness." Mya, your maid bowed as you approached your desk throwing the gloves off to the side.

"Good morrow Mya." You said glancing at the books and parchment on the wooden table. "Any letters?"

The maid shuffled and retrieved a scroll, sealed by the familiar sun and spear. You smiled breaking the insignia and read the letter send by Qoren.

"Is the prince still smitten?" Mya asked curiously, you nodded a small smile on your lips. Despite seven years apart you and Qoren often wrote to each other.

You said placing the parchment on your desk. Grabbing a spare parchemnt and dipping your feather in quill you begun to write a response. "Mya, if you could pass this letter to the rookery." Pouring the hot wax over the letter you placed your seal. A bronze dragon on a black background.

"At once your highness." The maid said, bowed and rushed to the rookery.

You giddily smiled and left your chambers searching for you eldest brother.

Ser Harrold Westerling dutifully stood before the King's chambers. His silver armor illuminated by the torches.

"Princess." The knight bowed his head, and announced your presence.

"Viserys!" You smiled and rushed to hug your brother.

"y/n, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?" He asked hunched over his model of old Valyria.

"Can't I visit my brother the King?" You mused glancing at the Valyria sculpture. Viserys laughed and ushered you inside.

"This tower is wrong." you said pointing at the build. Viserys curiously looked to what you're referring to. "It should be holding liquid fire as an heraldry to Gaelithox."

"My, you are right."

"Of course I'm right... Valyria is a fascinating civilisation isn't it."

"If only we could bring it back." Viserys sighed sadly.

"But we can Viserys... your are the King, your word is law."

"It is not that simple y/n" He started "You know how hard grandsire fought for the doctrine of exceptionalism."

"Excactly, grandsire laid the fundaments we need. Now we can use them to build!" You exclaimed "Uncle Vaegon has a chain of Valyrian Steel, he could help us."

Viserys chuckled at your childlike wonder.

"The world will never see a civilisation as magnificent as Old Valyria, we barely know our history. We have to learn more."

In the next few weeks you barely ate or slept, consumed by various books on the history of Valyria. Uncle Vaegon per your request send you as many books from the citadel as he could. Many letters were exchanged between the two of you. You offering various theories and Vaegon negating them.

"Brother! Brother!" You shouted bursting to his chambers, starting him and Aemma.

"Seven hells y/n, it is barely dusk." Viserys mumbled leaning into his wife's side.

"Good morrow y/n" Aemma responded

"It could not wait." You exclaimed placing as many parchemnts and books you could hold in your arms.

"What could not wait?" Viserys groggily asked sitting in his bed.

"Valyria dear brother!"

Aemma stood from the bed clasping her swollen belly. She slowly waddled to you and glanced at the books.

"What is this?"

"This my queen is our ancestry." You responded helping her sit.

Drawing depicting the great city of Valyria, towers occupied by dragons, rivers of fire, colourful plants that grew everywhere, temples dedicated to the fourteen flames, great structures build from dragon glass.

"In the age of heroes there were hundred of thousands of dragon roaming the world. And yet only the people of Valyria tamed them. Some texts say that our ancestors were dragons, that we are their descendants and that is why we can form bonds and ride them."

"y/n this is..." Viserys mumbled glancing at the knowledge before him. "How did you find this?"

"Uncle Vaegon helped me, but I found knowledge about Valyria from books and scrolls that depicted the history of other Essosi cities."

"What would the faith think of this?" Aemma asked appaled.

"The faith of the seven was brought by the Andals, Valyria worshipped many deities but the main one were the fourteen flames. The faith does not influence us as were are not of Andal decent. We have magic in our blood, magic that no one else possesses. That is why the North does not preach the faith of the seven. They are the descendants of the first men and they follow the old gods of stream, forest and stone."

"y/n is right we are not Andals we merely rule them." Viserys agreed examining the various books, scrolls and parchments.

"This would make a lovely tapestry." Aemma said picking up a drawing of dragons dancing in the sky. "Perhaps the Red Keep would benefit from a little renovation."

"A marvellous idea, my love." Viserys said pressing a kiss to Aemma's hand. "This is extraordinary y/n. Father would have been very proud of you."

Gradually the Red Keep got rid of the emblem of the seven, replacing them with tapestries and statues depicting old Valyria, dragon lords and dragons. Many lord gathered at court to posses even a drop of knowledge of Old Valyria. The change didn't disturb the faith as the renovation have been done over a course of many years.

You smiled seeing the changes knowing that you were the one to influence them. Things however were not as happy as they could have been. Queen Aemma has lost four children in the span of three years, two pregnancies ended before her terms and two stillborn children. This time however the King was sure that the Queen will deliver a healthy son.

The tourney in honour of the heir inside the belly of Queen Aemma has begun. Many lords and ladies came to King's Landing to celebrate such a joyous ocassion. The dispute of the realm would vanish when the baby boy is born.

Not fond of tourneys y/n decided to visit Aemma. To her there was nothing the least bit enjoyable about men knocking each other off horses with long sticks. Such violence and bloodshed was redundant. 

The princess stopped at the tall doors of the Queen's chambers, two guards with solemn faces greeted the princess, announcing her presence.

"Your Grace." y/n walked in, curtseying before the Arryn. The princess raised her eyebrows once she saw of the condition Aemma was in. Pained expression, body and hair damp with sweat. 

"Oh, sweet y/n, how good of you to come." The Queen visibly brightened up seeing the princess. "Has the tourney begun?" 

"Not yet, but everyone is awaiting impatiently." She answered, sitting next to the Queen. 

"I must say, I fear of what will happen." Aemma sighed finding it easy to confide in her good sister. Despite being just ten and five she possessed an intellect rivalling her uncle Vaegon.

She enjoyed politics and history. Vaegon was not fond of children or anyone else for that matter but he made an exception for his niece. The two exchanged letters and the Archmaester lend her books from the citadel.

Princess y/n often whispered to her niece of politics, history, economics when it was needed. Being on the quieter side, y/n did not posses many friends. While being exceptionally smart she did not enjoy being at court, she did however enjoyed bards that sung the tales of her ancestors.

Beside Rhaenyra y/n was very fond of her brother Daemon as he was of her. He often gave her many gifts from his travels from valyrian steel jewerly to books and other trinkets. It was a common occurrence to see Vermithor and Caraxes together in the skies.

"As a mother you are prone to worry for your children, even the unborn ones.” y/n said, sensing the distressed state Aemma was in. Not wanting to deepen her fear of labour she tried to console the pregnant woman.

"It is the burden we posses as royal women, our duty is to produce heirs. We give the realm new princes and princesses." Aemma sighed sadly. "Soon enough you will be in my place." y/n smiled sadly, she knew that Aemma was right and yet she preferred to not think about the near future. 

Aemma thanked the princess and ushered her to join the celebrations her husband so desperately adored. y/n felt guilty for leaving the Queen alone, but nonetheless she obeyed leaving the chambers.

"Sweet y/n! You have finally graced us with your presence!" The king rejoiced, the princess bowed and took her seat on the left of Viserys.

"Unlike you brother I do not enjoy seeing men knocking each other off horses." y/n whispered and took her place on the left of the King. 

y/n engaged with the aristocracy, exchanging greeting and pleasantries with the lords and ladies in the royal balcony. Despite the happy aura of the day, she could not help the worry that bubbled in her gut. Turning to her brother she took him by the hand.

"Brother, I worry for Aemma." y/n said her eyes sad worry swimming in her red orbs. "She says she fears the labour, you have to ensure she will be safe." 

"Dear sister, Aemma will be fine. She will deliver a son and the realm will rejoice at their new heir." Viserys said confidently, he seemed to not worry for his wife's wellbeing as much as the sex of the baby that she might deliver.

y/n tugged at the skin's of her fingers in nervousness. The crowd grew larger and larger with each minute, the lords and ladies helped themselves to cake, wine and other delights. y/n refrained from eating, her stomach twisted in nervousness. 

From the corner of her eye she saw the hand Otto Hightower whisper something in Viserys's ear. His eyes visibly lit up, he made his way to the railing of the balcony.

"Queen Aemma has begun her labours!" Viserys shouted and the crowd erupted in applause. y/n glanced at Rhaenyra, a worried look painted on both of their faces. 

The announcer took everybody's attention, introducing today's tourney participants. Knights and sons of lord from all over the seven kingdoms joined the joust.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen!" The crowd erupted in applause; the dragon prince strode confidently on his white horse. The black dragon armor shone lightly in the sun. 

"May I ask for the favor of princess y/n?" Daemon asked, she rolled her eyes but smiled, nonetheless. She stood from her chair and retrieved her black and violet bouquet throwing it at the lance of her half-brother.

"Let my favour guide you in this challenge." y/n said loudly for the crowd to hear "I hope someone knocks you off your horse and humble you, my dear brother." y/n teased the prince and he gave her a sly look.

"Let us pray you do not hope to hard, my dear sister." Daemon said and trotted away on his horse. y/n turned around to see Otto whisper something once more to Viserys, his skin turned paler and his breath shallowed. 

Aemma

Quickly abandoning the joust, she quickly slipped away from the balcony and ran to Aemma's chambers. She could hear the Queen's screams from far away. Her heart ached to think of her mother figure in such agony. 

"Aemma!" y/n shouted and her blood run cold. The bed and the linen cloth were stained with scarlet blood. Aemma cried and wailed, her skin and hair sweaty.

"Your royal highness, I advise you to leave. This is no place for children." The maester Mellos said turning his attention away from the Queen.

"I care not for your advice Maester, I am here for the Queen." y/n said sternly and turned towards the contracting Aemma. "My sweet Queen I am here." She whispered

"y/n?" Aemma panted. "My sweet daughter..." 

The princesses eyes filled with tears, she held the hand of her sister enduring the pain just like Aemma. The doors burst open moments later, Viserys walked in. 

"Brother you must stop this!" y/n shouted

"Please get it out of me..." Aemma wailed and clung to the hand of her sister in law. She could smell the faint notes of milk of the poppy on the Queen. From the corner of her eye she could see her brother and the maester talking. Then two guards stepped towards y/n, she looked at her brother but saw fear in his eyes.

"Guards escort her royal highness to her chambers." Viserys whispered.

The two kings guards took her by the arms, she looked around confused. Her gaze landing on the knife in the maester's hand, the servant took Aemma by her legs and pulled her down. 

"NO!" y/n screamed "Viserys stop this!" She begun to trash in the guards hold. "It is not worth it!" 

"Viserys?" Aemma whispered "What is going on?" 

"They’re going to bring it out now... I love you, Aemma..." Viserys whispered and kissed his wife's sweaty brow.

"What..?" Aemma looked around scared "No... Viserys. I'm scared. Please." 

"Viserys!" y/n screamed her voice hoarse and raspy. The guards dragged her away from the scene. "Aemma!" 

Queen Aemma smiles at Viserys before fading away again. The maesters go to work in the king’s periphery. Aemma suddenly begins screaming in agony. Her body jerks as it is tugged, pulled and cut.

Viserys holds her hand to his cheek, sobbing. He tries to block out the noise, but Aemma’s pain spears through him.

Then, the Queen goes silent. Time passes in a vacuum. Until the faint wail of a newborn shatters the quiet. The king lifts his head to see the midwives wrapping the baby into swaddling.

...

The body of Aemma and little Baelon laid on the pyre wrapped in cloth. King Viserys choking on his own tears, unable to speak and think. Mourning the death of his wife and his son Baelon. 

Rhaenyra stands apart from him. Her eyes are red from crying, but there’s another emotion on her face...anger. Hand in hand with y/n, their expressions similar. The black dress on y/n’s body swayed delicately in the wind.  

"Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan?" Rhaneyra asked rhetorically tears escaping her reddened eyes. y/n squeezed her hand leaning onto the princess’s shoulder. (I wonder if, for those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness.)

"Kepa aōha avy sīr ojūdo tubiro toliot jorrāelza." Daemon spoke boring holes into the Kings head. (Your father needs you more now than he ever has.)

"Trēsy dōrī kesan." Rhaenyra whispered and strode towards her golden steed. (I will never be a son)

"Kesā sagon tolmiot sȳrkta than mirre dārys" y/n whispered to Rhaenyra as she left. Daemon wrapped his arm around his siter bringing her into his embrace. Knowing that y/n saw the brutal scenes of Aemma’s labour, he felt sorry for the little princess. Gently caressing her silver locks. The two dragon rider’s stood in solemn silence watching Rhaenyra. (You will be far better than any king.)

"Dracarys, Syrax!" Syrax opens her maw and expels a column of dragonfire, which sets alight both the biers. Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon are consumed by the flame. Twin columns of black smoke, bent by a strong morning wind, rise from the twin funeral pyres as mother and child burn. 

...

The two princesses dreseed in black mourning attire laid in Rhaenyra’s chambers. Their hands intertwined, tears falling onto the bed. 

“Aemma was a good woman.” y/n whispered caressing the silver haired girl’s cheek, she leaned into the warm touch.

“She was… I know she saw you as a daughter.” Rhaenyra whispered her voice hoarse from crying. “And I hope you know that I see you as my sister, the one I never had.” The red-eyed princess sobbed hugging the motherless child. 

“She loved you deeply.” y/n whispered.

...

She wanted to scream, cry and rage. She held her emotions back, seeing the state her brother was in. She sighed and walked towards his grace in the small council chamber. Putting her palm on Viserys's shoulder.

"y/n?" Viserys asked, his voice tired and sad.

"Yes dear brother." She answered. "I come to ask how you feel." Tears escaped the king's eyes, he banged his fists on the table. 

"The council is pressuring me to name an heir and re-marry. As if my son and wife didn't just die!" He cried angrily. y/n sat in silence helping her brother mourn the loss of his family, placing her palm on his back offering some comfort.

"What should I do?" He asked defeated, glancing at his sister. Silence befallen the two siblings.

"Put your trust in Rhaenyra. Name her heir like you always desired." y/n whispered.

Viserys nodded solemnly, standing from his chair he hugged the young princess. She sadly smiled caressing his back.

...

y/n found Daemon in his chambers, the man dressed in a linen shirt and leather pants sat comfortably before the fireplace, a goblet of red in his hand. She stormed to her brother and took the cup from his hand slamming it on the table next to her. The rogue prince raised an eyebrow, glancing at the red-eyed girl.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, dear sist-” Daemon spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm. Not being able to control her anger she slapped the prince on his cheek ending his words.

“Issi ao hen hen aōha ribazma!” She shouted, the prince took off guard by the unusual behavior displayed by his siter. He palmed the red spot growing on his cheek. “Skorkydoso could vestrā bona!” (Are you out of your mind!/ How could you say that!)

“Ivestragon skoros?” Daemon asked feigning cluelessness. (Say what?)

“Gaomagon daor tymagon doru-borto lēda nyke, Daemon!” She accused standing over her brother. Her hands squeezed in fists that she barely held back. The princess sighed and took a seat next to her half-brother. (Do not play dumb with me) 

“How could you say such a thing. You should be offering Rhaenyra or Viserys comfort! Not celebrating the death of your nephew!” y/n said, bitter tears ecaped her green orbs. Daemon finally looked ashamed; his gaze lowered onto the crackling fire. “Well… say something!” But the prince stayed silent.

“You should beg Viserys for forgiveness on your knees. He could have your head for this.” y/n whispered.

“He has no spine for that.” Daemon mused, breaking his streak of silence. 

“Perhaps he does not. His patience with you however runs thin...” y/n whispered glancing at the silver haired man. 

“He always wanted to get rid of me. Sending me away to that bronze bitch, the city watch anywhere by near him.” He spoke words laced with venom. 

“You have not given him any reason to put you by his side!” The princess said raising her delicate voice. “I know you want to protect him, but this is no way of showing it.”

“If it is his wish to exile me from court then go ahead. I hold no sympathy or love for these pompous nobles, you know that.” Daemon countered.

“I do not want you to leave especially in exhile.” y/n whispered. “You should be here by your family’s side, by my side.” 

Daemon stared at his sister the flames of the fire illuminating her Valyrian features. He stood up from his seat and stepped towards the silver haired girl, he sighed and kneeled before her. His violet eyes staring into her red ones. 

“I do not want to leave you, you know that.” Daemon whispered the princess stayed silent. The prince placed his head in the lap of his half-sister, he could feel as her fingers threaded through his straight silver locks. “You should come with me.” He could feel as y/n stopped her fingers.

“I will not leave Rhaenyra.” Her voice stern, moving her brother’s head she stood from her seat, eyes filled with anger and resentment stared at the mighty prince. Without a word she left, the prince on his knees stared at the retreating form of the princess.

...

Princess Rhaenyra dressed in the red and black of the House of the Dragon stands at the foot of the Iron Throne. The throne room is packed with lords, ladies and knights from every corner of the realm. The mood is one of celebration. King Viserys crowned and dressed in the ceremonial armor of his house and with the Targaryen ancestral sword Blackfyre sheathed at his hip, sits upon the Iron Throne. y/n stands next to the King, her own gown in the colours of Targaryen's. The lords of the realm gather one after the other. Lord Corlys Velaryon kneels first, glancing at the royal family.

"Corlys of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark." Grand maester Mellos announced. 

"I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the old gods and the new." 

y/n looked from above, the crowd's gaze was focused on Rhaenyra, now heir to the iron throne. She glanced at the princess and smiled deeply at her niece. Observing the realm bow at her feet and promise loyalty to her as heir.

The high septon lays a golden collar around Rhaenyra’s shoulders, King Viserys addresses his lords and subjects.

"I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen the Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

The three and ten year old princess looks out across the lords of the realm that she will be responsible for holding together. A proud smile etched on her feauters, welcoming her new future.

y/n stared solemnly at Viserys, knowing the dispute that happened between him and Daemon urged him to name Rhaenyra heir. She knew that her niece will face have to face many hardships as the only female heir to the iron throne. Knowing that she decided to become her protector help her in any way she was able to cement her status as the rightful future Queen. With that the princess begun her works at court. Servants, knights, septas and many nobles have fallen into her grasp. She spinned the web of spies and informants throughout the seven kingdoms. 

Princess Rhaenyra was named princess of Dragonstone at only five and ten, as her father’s only child the nobility quickly accepted the heir. Many speculated that naming the princess heir was the doing of her aunt y/n Targaryen. It was known that the princess held much influence at court as her brother’s secret advisor. With her influence she worked for the good of the people, improving the crown’s reputation. The nobles as well as the smallfolk admired and loved the princess for her kidness and generosity. – From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.