#transformers Hightower

[indragonsaur]

Transformers: Cybertron chronicles: Builder trios

[asmoteeth]

Finally a new TF drawing! This took all weekend,,, this is a piece I've wanted to do for a year now, the Build Team from TF:RID (2001) in my style! This series was Wedge's first appearance and the family dynamic these three had in their debut episode was so cute I decided to make them an actual family (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Time to be a nerd about inherited features:

Wedge gets his Headlights, windowshield, head ridges and lift cylinder from Grimlock; his pedes, lower wheels and legs from Hightower; and helm-brim, visor, ear flats and shoulder wheels from Heavy Load! He's a group project :P

Their personalities are pretty much the same: Heavy Load is Wedge's closest mentor (#mothering), Hightower is way too flattering and Grimlock is the backbone of this family unit :3

They're so stupid I hate them I hope they get squashed /affectionately

Friend tags, because it's been a while ┐⁠(⁠‘⁠～⁠`⁠;⁠)⁠┌

@sphnyspinspin @lonely-paracosmos @wildlygay @leostar-12lol @sonicnerd

[lui-the-cute-snek]

BUILD TEAM! I love teams where the youngest one is the leader, it's always a fun dynamic!

Transformuary day 19 & 20: Combiner & Leader

[thatsalotoftoons]

when the trope is seeing one of your closest friends become an entirely different person and there’s nothing you can do to save them

[greenqueenhightower]

Before the trailer leaked, people were spreading on Twitter that Criston was abusing Alicent by pushing her against the wall

However, it turns out that it's Alicent who mounts and fucks him against the wall

This fixation on the idea of Alicent being sexually assaulted over and over again needs to be studied, girl had been suffering enough for past twenty years, why people want her to suffer even more, when she’s likely to face hell this season anyway

Honestly, a lot of people like to see Alicent abused and assaulted because the narrative has firmly established her victim portrayal in S1, and a lot of people struggle to move beyond that. Yes, she was a victim of abuse but she was so much more than that, and S2 will make that clear (maybe that was one of the reasons why they excluded Alicent from the events of B&C?). She will suffer a lot this season but also find herself, her agency, as well as her political keenness and mastermind.

I think a great number of got/hotd viewers have abuse/assault kinks that they like to project on fictional characters. I think it is time we saw Alicent escape her victimization and turn into a major player of the Dance. Her character development will thus be so powerful and inspiring. That being said, I'd like to see her silence all those who still delight in seeing her as a victim by taking down Larys piece by piece.

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

RiD 01 Hightower

[vhagars-dementia]

I'm seeing a lot of writers in need of inspiration so I'm bringing back the Title Game!

Send me a fic title and a character and I'll reply with a synopsis :)

[comicchannel]

Transformers Studio Series Revenge of The Fallen Devastator 8-Pack Hasbro E7301

Link para compra BR: https://amzn.to/3FZ1Gr4

Buy here: https://amzn.to/3E23wH8

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Thank you to @sublimefirenacho-blog1 for your patience as I struggled to get my brain to work, and for the request for Build Team wholesomeness. I hope this is to your liking

Requests | AO3

Continuity: RiD01

Characters: Wedge, Heavy Load, Grimlock, Hightower

In which Wedge gets his team a holiday

Wedge eyed the stretch of beach that spanned for miles upon miles to the north and south. The ocean that lapped at its shores were beautiful gradients of blue and green. The temperature was rather sweltering, but the breeze that blew by in force kept it to manageable levels. For the most part, it was deserted, save for the occasional cluster of dark-skinned humans that came by to enjoy themselves. Or stare at him…

He was more than aware of the various gazes that were on him at the moment. But he had already explained himself to a few of them, and he wasn’t going to waste time telling his story to the rest. The young mech moved toward the ocean and crouched down once the waterline was lapping at his toes. He reached down to scoop up a small handful of wet sand, then attempted to shape it. The consistency of the material was a little interesting to work with, but after carefully forming a cube with it, he smirked and crushed it again.

“Yeah. This will do,” he determined with a nod, rising to his feet again and striding away from the beach, heading back to the Global Space Bridge entrance he’d used to get here. He’d been here long enough scouting this place out, and now he had to get back to his team. Everything was set up now. He’d put in the request with Optimus Prime to get his team a small break, which he’d accepted without a second thought. And now he had an activity and set spot in mind.

The jaunt back to the G.S.B. entry point was a quick one, and soon enough he was back within its chambers, his treads carrying him toward the space his team often used for downtime between jobs. Unfortunately, his team had been using it far more frequently as of late than any of them liked. Optimus hadn’t been putting in any orders to have new structures built, and while maintenance of the G.S.B. was important, it was also a mundane task that didn’t need doing every single day.

Not that they hadn’t checked. The Build Team had been so slagging bored from lack of things to do that they desperately went over everything at least twice a day to make certain there wasn’t something to work on. Wedge had tried to get the team psyched up about the prospect of training instead, but unfortunately the novelty of that wore off within the first few days. Sure, they were warriors, but they were builders first and foremost, and without something other than training to do, the Build Team’s spirits gradually sank.

And as team leader, Wedge couldn’t let that continue.

He slowed to a halt and transformed just outside the break room before striding in with a broad grin on his face. “Alright, everyone!” he announced to the three mechs lounging around the room, bored out of their minds. “On your feet! We’re going out to play!”

Grimlock and Hightower stared at him with such blank expressions that Wedge wondered if there was even any brain activity going on in their heads.

“I’m sorry, Wedge, but… ‘play’?” Heavy Load questioned with a slight frown. “Would Optimus Prime allow it?”

“I already got his permission to take a few days for ourselves,” the team leader informed, moving over to where Grimlock was stretched out. He then reached out and gripped the green mech’s ankle with both hands, and proceeded to drag him off of his seat and in the direction of the door, unintentionally slamming his second-in-command's upper half onto the floor.

“Ow! Wedge, come on, I was about to grab a stasis nap!” Grimlock protested, sitting up once the young mech had let go of his ankle.

“You don’t want a nap,” Wedge stated firmly, striding away to start pushing Hightower toward the door. “You guys want to build things. And I’ve got the perfect spot for it. So let’s go already!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sold!” Hightower submitted before his leader could even touch his back, quickly getting to his feet and heading out the door, though pausing to help Grimlock get up first.

Heavy Load stood and followed everyone out, looking surprised, yet curious about what their leader had in store for them.

Satisfied that he’d gotten them all off their afts, Wedge proceeded to lead them out of the G.S.B. and to the beachfront that he’d scoped out. Now, their reactions to his surprise were a little lack luster when they got there. Certainly, they had all made some sort of remark about how nice the place was, and they all seemed to smile a little, but it wasn’t what Wedge was looking for.

“Alright, guys. Let’s spiffy the place up some!” he encouraged, gesturing to the sand that sprawled for miles on either side. “Koji said that humans like to make castles out of sand! We’ve got our materials, so let’s make a nice big one!”

That got him the reaction he was looking for. The Build Team members each perked up at the prospect of finally building something, and began to talk amongst each other about where to start. How to make the sand moldable, how big the structure was going to be, what aesthetic to give it, et cetera. For most of the day, they worked away on the sand castle, not so much as pausing when the occasional human approached to gawk at their skills or ask questions. They had, however, paused for a brief fuel break when a kindly restaurant owner brought them oil, courtesy of a customer that had been enthralled with their project.

By the time the evening sun had hit the ocean’s horizon, the Build Team stepped back to peer up at their work of art with pride. It was big enough for adult humans to comfortably walk into and explore, and they absolutely did at the encouragement of the team, though it was probably best they stuck to the ground level.

“Amazing job, guys,” Wedge praised, turning his head away from their project to turn to his teammates. “I really mean it. We nailed this one! And I bet we could make an even better one tomorrow! We’ve still got two whole days off unless there’s an emergency!”

“Wedge,” Grimlock started, crouching down to get on his optic level and fix him with a broad smile. “I’m sorry for giving you grief this morning. This has been a blast and I’m grateful you set it all up for us.” He then leaned in and wrapped his arms around the young mech in a strut-crushing hug.

As Wedge wheezed from the embrace he was now trapped in, Hightower dove in to add his own hug to the mix, followed by Heavy Load.

“Wedge, your dedication and compassion is an inspiration to us,” Heavy Load sniffed.

“You’re the best leader ever!” Hightower exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Guys…! Compacted…! Squished…!” Wedge choked out, pinned between all three of them. He loved receiving hugs from them, but all at the same time was a bit much!

Blessedly, their embrace was stopped as a human with a camera approached them excitedly. “Excuse me!” they called out, coming to a stop a small distance from the team. They nodded to the large sand castle behind the group. “Is that your magnificent creation?”

“You bet it is!” Hightower replied as he and the others finally let Wedge go, though the red bot proceeded to point to the young bot proudly. “And it was all orchestrated by this genius right here!”

Wedge rubbed his arm bashfully. “Come on, Hightower… It was a joint effort.”

“If you want to explore it, you’re perfectly welcome to head inside,” Grimlock offered.

“Oh, I most definitely will. But first, I was wondering if I could get a picture of the four of you in front of it?” the human smiled, holding up their camera.

Heavy Load straightened up as he exclaimed, “Certainly! Just one moment while we get into position for you.” He then proceeded to corral the team into place and directed them into different poses.

As he stood in his spot and pose for the picture with his team, Wedge felt a wave of fond warmth wash over him. This was better. His team was back to their rowdy, eager selves. Just how things should be.

[fandom]

TV Fictional Characters

The Pines & Friends supremacy continues.

Bill Cipher | Gravity Falls

Alastor | Hazbin Hotel

Anthony J. Crowley | Good Omens

Aziraphale | Good Omens

Stanley Pines | Gravity Falls

Stanford Pines | Gravity Falls

Lucifer Morningstar | Hazbin Hotel

Evan Buckley | 9-1-1

Mabel Pines | Gravity Falls

Dipper Pines | Gravity Falls

Dean Winchester | Supernatural

Edmundo Diaz | 9-1-1

Charlie Morningstar | Hazbin Hotel

Fiddleford McGucket | Gravity Falls

Lestat de Lioncourt | Interview with the Vampire

Louis de Pointe du Lac | Interview with the Vampire

Castiel | Supernatural

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things

Armand | Interview with the Vampire

Steve Harrington | Stranger Things

Daniel Molloy | Interview with the Vampire

Will Graham | Hannibal

Colin Bridgerton | Bridgerton

Penelope Featherington | Bridgerton

Tommy Kinard | 9-1-1

Hannibal Lecter | Hannibal

Zuko | Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rhaenyra Targaryen | House of the Dragon

Edwin Payne | Dead Boy Detectives

Leonardo | Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Alicent Hightower | House of the Dragon

Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom

Charles Rowland | Dead Boy Detectives

Donatello | Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Aemond Targaryen | House of the Dragon

Vox | Hazbin Hotel

Husk | Hazbin Hotel

Sam Winchester | Supernatural

Spock | Star Trek

Twilight Sparkle | My Little Pony

Rafe Cameron | Outer Banks

Katara | Avatar: The Last Airbender

Jax | The Digital Amazing Circus

The Fifteenth Doctor | Doctor Who

Aegon II Targaryen | House of the Dragon

Spencer Reid | Criminal Minds

Sokka | Avatar: The Last Airbender

Aang | Avatar: The Last Airbender

Fluttershy | My Little Pony

Michelangelo | Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Tenth Doctor | Doctor Who

Adam | Hazbin Hotel

Dr. Gregory House | House MD

James Wilson | House MD

Donna Noble | Doctor Who

Pinkie Pie | My Little Pony

The Fourteenth Doctor | Doctor Who

Raphael | Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Mike Wheeler | Stranger Things

Rainbow Dash | My Little Pony

Will Byers | Stranger Things

Stede Bonnet | Our Flag Means Death

Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir | Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Edward Teach | Our Flag Means Death

Megatron | Transformers

Joel Miller | The Last of Us

Rarity | My Little Pony

Marienette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug | Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Arthur Pendragon | Merlin

Agatha Harkness | the Marvel universe

Ellie Williams | The Last of Us

James T. Kirk | Star Trek

Optimus Prime | Transformers

Cooper Howard | Fallout

Sherlock Holmes | Sherlock

Ruby Sunday | Doctor Who

Daemon Targaryen | House of the Dragon

Luz Noceda | The Owl House

Helaena Targaryen | House of the Dragon

Bobby Nash | 9-1-1

Anthony Bridgerton | Bridgerton

Claudia | Interview with the Vampire

Rose Tyler | Doctor Who

Loki Laufeyson | the Marvel universe

Sun Wukong | Lego Monkie Kid

Niko Sasaki | Dead Boy Detectives

Sally Jackson | the Percy Jackson universe

Jacaerys Velaryon | House of the Dragon

Rio Vidal | the Marvel universe

Nightcrawler | the Marvel universe

Simon Petrikov | Adventure Time

Rosie | Hazbin Hotel

Izzy Hands | Our Flag Means Death

Howard "Chimney" Han | 9-1-1

Ahsoka Tano | the Star Wars universe

Omega | the Star Wars universe

Mobius M. Mobius | the Marvel universe

Wallace Wells | the Scott Pilgrim franchise

Hunter | the Star Wars universe

Gambit | the Marvel universe

This is a returning list! Yay!

There are some great Gravity Falls Communities over here, in case you're interested 👀

[venusbyline]

Filthy, Obedient Bastard — Aemond Targaryen.

— summary: As soon as the meeting was over, Aemond rested his chin on the hand again and let himself be entertained by the sight of his wife kneeling on the floor, face flushed and tears staining the cheeks, just waiting for a command from Aemond. Your uncle, your husband, your Prince Regent.

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece-wife!reader

— type: smut, dark

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: female!reader, dark Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen, DEAD DOVE: DO NO EAT, Targcest (uncle/niece), dubcon, rough sex, dry humping, boot humping, oral sex (male receiving), deepthroating, degradation, underage sex (no specific mention of reader's age tho), face slapping, spanking, dacryphilia, sadism, dom!Aemond, sub!reader, marriage of convenience, toxic relationship, manipulation, free use, minor Green Council members/reader, cowgirl position, vaginal sex, public sex, creampie, past Aegon II Targaryen/reader, past Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen/reader, past Alicent Hightower/reader, kinda Lucemond too, mentioned rape/non-con, mentioned Aemond Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon, mentioned uncle/nephew incest, consensual infidelity, reader is Lucerys' twin sister and she has dark hair, mild angst, open ending, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

❥ Aemond masterlist • HOTD masterlist

— author's notes: This one-shot is based on an anon horny thought that I received here on Tumblr... AND OMFFFFFG IT WAS SOOOOO GOOD TO WRITE ABOUT 🥵🥵 I admit that I'm a free use whore for Aemond anyway

— crossposting: AO3

❥ about me • main masterlist

Aemond’s face remained stoic as he listened to the stupid war strategies the Green Council had to suggest. Nothing sounded pleasing to his ears, no idea seemed clever enough to ensure they were ahead of any attack Rhaenyra might be planning.

Putting his back of hand under his chin to try to focus a little more, Aemond frowned when the whimpering noises began to grow louder throughout the room. The Prince Regent snorted, turning his head to the side to watch his niece-wife riding some random Council lord's cock as if your poor life depended on it.

“Be quieter, you are distracting us.” Aemond growled at the little girl, who nodded with flushed cheeks, biting your lower lip and stifling the sounds that wanted to escape. Perhaps due to both pain and guilty pleasure.

Your palms leaned on your own thighs, bouncing on the man's lap and feeling your cunt all swollen and red from being used and abused by any of the lords or knights there who asked Aemond to.

Aemond watched the act with a sick mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. The lord's hand began to caress your clit in a way that was not as pleasurable as your uncle-husband knew how to do, but it was still better than nothing. It was still better than simply standing there listening to Aemond plan strategies to kill your mother and your entire family.

As the man pulled his cock out and released his disgusting seed against your back and ass, Aemond smirked at Alicent, who was sitting very close, trying to ignore the sight of Rhaenyra's daughter being passed around to yet another lord without even being able to prepare yourself first.

"Perhaps you should have your turn with her again someday, Mother." The Prince Regent sneered at the Dowager Queen, whose face soon transformed into a look of shock and shame.

"Thank you for the suggestion, Your Grace, but I prefer to decline your offer." Alicent replied to her son, going back to biting her cuticles.

As soon as the meeting was over, Aemond rested his chin on the hand again and let himself be entertained by the sight of his wife kneeling on the floor, face flushed and tears staining the cheeks, just waiting for a command from Aemond. Your uncle, your husband, your Prince Regent.

Gods, your mother would be so disappointed if she saw her daughter becoming such a submissive and pathetic girl, being treated like a toy by practically all the Greens. Aemond had forced you to suck on what little was left of Aegon's cock, watching with sadistic amusement while he saw his brother suffering from having his burned manhood being licked by you. He had forced you to have sex with Helaena together with him, a false excuse to try to help his sweet older sister deal with the grief of the loss of her son. Even Alicent, who detested the disgusting and sinful acts of her dear son, had already used you — because Aemond would rather his mother be distracted by you than continue to whine about Rhaenyra like a weak woman.

In any case, you had become a disgrace to your family of origin. An obedient lapdog for the Prince Regent.

"Come here..." Aemond gestured with his hand, before patting his thigh. You were about to stand up, grateful to be able to give your aching knees a rest, but Aemond stopped that with a growl. "Come here on your knees, you whore."

You nodded quickly, whimpering and kneeling again, getting on all fours to get closer to your uncle-husband, crawling like a baby until you were finally in front of his chair, wide eyes with fear.

Aemond remembered very well when you were born. King Viserys dragged him, Helaena and Aegon to Rhaenyra's chambers. The Princess had two babies in her arms... You and Lucerys. He had only been five at the time, and yet he could not help but grimace when he saw that neither of the newborns were silver-haired. Meanwhile, Helaena seemed happy to finally have a niece, and Aegon was focused on teasing his younger sister and telling her dirty things about how babies were made.

Aemond had never really wanted to marry you, a bastard girl with dark hair. It had been the only way Viserys could see to make up for his son’s loss of eye, and at first Aemond had been repelled by the idea of having you as his future wife. Where would be the beneficial part about marrying Rhaenyra's offspring?

It sure sounded like a terrible solution, until Aemond became Prince Regent and realized that Alicent had been right when she said it would not be long before you completely submitted to him. You were too young, almost as innocent as a child when you married him, months before Aegon usurped your mother's throne and Aemond killed your twin brother. And yet... You submitted to him without blinking twice.

"Look at the mess you have made." The Prince Regent clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, noticing the trail of cum that dripped from your two holes when you crawled towards him.

"My apologies, Your Grace..." You whined right after his palm hit your face once, only to be slapped again, three more times without giving you some time to breathe.

Four slaps. Four slaps burning your cheek, just like your cunt was aching after being abused during the entire Small Council meeting.

You wondered if this was how whores felt after fucking with so many random men... But at least they got paid for it. It was their work...

And sometimes it was less humiliating and cruel than being the Prince Regent's niece-wife.

It was less humiliating and cruel than having your pretty mouth full of his thick cock, at the same time that his boot rubbed your clit, holding the back of your neck in place with one of his arms, pushing your head deeper, while the other hand was squeezing the flesh of your breast.

Aemond's fingers twisted your nipple, imagining what it would be like to simply rip them off and making muffled moans of pain escape from your lips, being interrupted by your own gagging cries as Aemond began to thrust into your throat in a practically primal way.

"Filthy bastard... You love being treated like this, do not you? You love being humiliated by your uncle, being a whiny little whore around my cock..." He growled, grinding the toe of his leather boot further rough against your core. "Perhaps you really like this... Perhaps you like me to rape and degrade you. Your twin brother seemed to like it too before he tried to escape with his dragon, flying through the sky like a whiny slutty boy."

You did not dare ask what he meant by that, just like you never dared ask about who was the young boy locked in the dungeons, the whiny boy you had heard the guards mocking about.

Deep down, you had chosen to continue obeying your uncle-husband blindly. You had chosen to pretend you did not know your twin brother was still alive, suffering a similar fate to yours... Both of you constantly used and abused by the Prince Regent. A double revenge for that incident at Driftmark.

[anyca786]

"IT IS GOOD TO BE HOME"

Daemon Targaryen x sister!Targaryen

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), fluff, mutual hate for Otto Hightower.

PROLOGUE: Daenys Targaryen, the youngest sister of King Viserys I and Prince Daemon, was a tempestuous soul who yearned for the open sky and the thrill of adventure.

Daenys' life took a dramatic turn when she witnessed the harrowing childbirth of her niece, Rhaenyra. The pain and suffering endured by her sister-in-law, Aemma, deeply affected her. Daenys made a solemn vow never to marry, fearing the same fate for herself.

With Nyx, her black scaled dragon at her side, she soared into the heavens and disappeared towards the North.

Now, Daenys has returned to King's Landing. The once unruly princess had matured into a woman of striking beauty and strength. Her beauty, enhanced, captivated the hearts of many in the city. Common folks called her, "Realm's Beauty".

Daemon found himself drawn to her in a way he had never expected. Whether it was lust or a deeper affection, Daenys's return had ignited a spark within him that would forever change the course of their lives.

Only time will tell.

Series

As King Viserys Targaryen and his Hand, Otto Hightower arrived, they find the small council gathered amidst pall of dread.

"The prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity.." Otto Hightower complained.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen, Your Grace" Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne announced.

Viserys nodded, his expression unchanged when he saw Prince Daemon was already waiting inside.

Daemon rises from the (previously empty) chair kept for him at the small council. He was still wearing his armor and gold cloak from the night before. A red smear stains his new gold cloak.

"Daemon" Viserys greeted.

"Brother" he replied.

Daemon then looks at the Hand of the King. The air has gone out of the room. Daemon has that effect.

"Do not let me interrupt, my Lord Hand. You were saying something about my impunity?" he said.

The Hand looks to his king, waiting for, hoping for him to start the conversation. But the king does not. So Otto moves to take the Hand’s seat at the small council table.

"You are to explain your doings with the City watch," Otto Hightower said.

"What about them?" Daemon smirked.

"Princess Daenys has arrived." a guard announced to the council.

A murmur rippled through the council. Her sudden return was a surprise to all.

The doors open and as Daenys entered the hall, all conversation ceased. The council members were stunned.

The girl who had left as a child had returned as a woman of breathtaking beauty. Princess Daenys, youngest sibling of King Viserys and Prince Daemon has arrived.

Her long, blonde Targaryen hair cascaded down her back, her pale purple eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. She wore a flowing red and black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her goddess-like figure.

Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, couldn't help but admire her. A smirk crept onto his face as he took in her appearance. Daemon, too, was captivated by his sister's transformation. His eyes followed her every movement as she approached the table.

"Daenys," Viserys greeted her warmly, his voice filled with warmth. "It is good to see you, little sister"

"Brother," she replied, a smile playing on her lips. "It is good to be home."

As she took her seat beside her brother, Prince Daemon, the council members couldn't help but whisper amongst themselves.

Otto Hightower couldn't resist a sly remark. "We weren't expecting you back so soon, Princess," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

Daenys raised an eyebrow, her smile turning slightly sardonic. "Oh, is that so? Perhaps I should have sent a raven ahead to announce my arrival. Or maybe I should have consulted with the Hand of the King before deciding when to return home."

Daemon chuckled at his sister's retort. He and Daenys had always shared a mutual dislike for Otto Hightower, believing his ambition and cunning to be a dangerous influence on Viserys.

Daenys turned to Daemon, her eyes softening. "Brother," she said, her voice filled with amusement.

Daemon grinned. "Baby sister," he replied, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You've grown."

Daenys blushed slightly, she always had a liking for her more rebellious brother. "I suppose I have." She glanced at Otto, who was watching them with a disapproving expression.

"The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They're an extension of the crown." Otto comtinues.

"The Watch was enforcing the crown's laws. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Strong?" Daemon turned to Lord Lyonell Strong.

"My Prince, I don't think-"

Otto interrupts him, "Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws."

Daenys, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but intervene, "Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending upon King's Landing for my brother's tourney. Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered? You mightn' know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people."

Viserys nodded. "I agree," he said, turning to Daemon. "I just hope you don't have to maim half of my city to achieve this."

Daemon grinned. "Time will tell," he replied, his eyes lingering on Daenys. He felt a warm sensation as his sister took his side without hesitation.

Lord Corlys Velaryon spoke up in support of Daemon "We installed Prince Daemon as commander to promote law and order. The criminal element should fear the City Watch."

"Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys" Daemon replied.

Otto, growing increasingly frustrated said, "If only the Prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace. You've not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone for quite some time."

Daenys rolled her eyes. "Mind yourself, Lord Hightower" Her voice stern. "You have nothing better to do than gossip about my brother's personal life?

"I think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence" Daemon replied to Otto.

"Lady Rhea is your wife; a good and honorable lady of the Vale" Otto persisted.

Daemon couldn't resist a final jab, "In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women," he quipped, "I can assure you, the sheep are prettier."

"Dear me" Daenys rolled her eyes, but Otto's face flushed red with anger.

"You made a vow before the Seven to honor your wife in marriage." Otto slightly raises his voice.

Daemon decides to provoke Otto, "Well, I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you're in want of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently."

Otto stands up in anger.

"Did she not?" Daenys pressed, faking inocence finding her own amusement in this.

"Otto" King Viserys tried to calm him.

"Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet" Daemon continued.

"You know how my brother makes sport of provoking you. Must you indulge him?" Viserys said.

Otto sits back down, "My apologies, Your Grace"

"This council has, at great expense pettered the City Watch to your exacting standards. Enforce my laws, but understand: Any further performances like last night's will be answered" Viserys said

"Understood, Your Grace." Daemon smirked.

He turned to Daenys, who was watching him. "Meet me at the dragonpit," he whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

As Daemon left, Daenys couldn't help but smile.

Thinking about turning this into a mini series, if this gets atleast a 100 likes.

[0silver0dreams0]

"Whispers of Devotion" | Storyline |

✦ >>Part I (Your name) died in a horrific way, but she has been reborn in a new world, where the body she is trapped in is (your name) Targaryen, daughter of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, who took her own life after the death of her dear sister Helaena, who was very close to her.

✧ >>Part II Despite her mother, Queen Consort Alicent's attempts to control her, (your name) felt a stronger attachment to Rhaenyra and her children, which created jealousy and tension within the family. Aemond's frustration at not having a dragon fueled his anger, which grew daily, especially after Laena's tragic death. This escalating conflict ultimately led to a tragedy.

✦ >>Part III Gradually, as time passes, the girl she once was begins to transform into a woman. Those around her take notice, and the actions of those in her life start to bear consequences. As tensions rise, rivalries deepen, and complex feelings begin to intertwine.

✧ >>Part IV As tensions escalate, (your name) finds herself caught between conflicting emotions and the manipulative forces around her. The arrival of Jacaerys and Aegon only deepens the complexity of her relationships, leaving her at a crossroads as secrets unravel.

✦ >>Part V | Coming soon...

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment. 

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end. 

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue. 

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies. 

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning. 

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully. 

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands. 

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him. 

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.” 

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters. 

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands. 

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.” 

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking. 

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention. 

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today. 

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps. 

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father. 

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather. 

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon. 

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand. 

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence. 

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels. 

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers. 

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon. 

“Uncle Aemond,  I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same.  Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim.  Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful.  Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble. 

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image. 

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.” 

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in. 

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen. 

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades. 

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness. 

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.” 

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it. 

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone. 

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.” 

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you. 

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you. 

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth. 

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys. 

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind. 

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress. 

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye. 

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates. 

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons. 

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep. 

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon. 

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes. 

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.  

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle. 

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it. 

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of. 

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms. 

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.” 

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.” 

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.” 

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit. 

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard. 

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls. 

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom. 

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side. 

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears. 

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again. 

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.” 

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight. 

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives. 

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire. 

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.” 

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity. 

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not. 

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes. 

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.” 

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?” 

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes. 

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs. 

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you. 

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece. 

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal. 

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers. 

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.” 

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up. 

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved. 

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[idkyetxoxo]

Gwayne Hightower || Masterlist

This masterlist is solely focused on Gwayne Hightower, all written as xreader pieces without any specific physical descriptions.

All works have warnings stated before but please read at your own risk!

— ALL ONESHOTS BELOW ->

Fan favourites: 🌟 My favourites: 💓

Beneath the Mockery 🌟💓

• Sexual content (smut!)

A perfect day takes a turn when an encounter with the infuriating Gwayne results in an unexpected tumble into the mud. This mishap transforms their antagonistic relationship into a profound and passionate connection, uncovering unexpected depths in both characters.

Redemption 🌟

• Sexual content (smut!)

A spirited princess enchants the fallen knight, Ser Gwayne with her charm challenging him to seek redemption in the most tantalizing way. Their flirtatious banter ignites a heated encounter, driving him to extraordinary lengths in his quest for atonement.

Dancing With Our Hands Tied 🌟💓

• Sexual content (smut!)

They risk everything to indulge in their illicit passion, knowing their stolen moments could shatter trust, but as their hunger for each other deepens, so does the danger of discovery and the thrill of keeping their affair hidden may be the very thing that destroys them.

Sworn to Protect

• Violence

Who more fitting to protect the Queen than the King's own uncle, a renowned knight with a profound understanding of the solemn duty that his role as her sworn protector entails? His commitment is so steadfast that he would go so far as to challenge the king himself.

Rivalries

• Sexual content (oral f!receiving)

She is the object of affection for Gwayne, her devoted husband and her resentful brother, Daemon. As passion ignites and jealousy simmers, secrets and desires threaten to unravel, culminating in a game where love and power collide in the shadows of the palace.

Knight in Shining Armour

• Violence, Sexual assault (attempted)

Between familial resentment and favour she finds herself the target of an assault. Just as hope seems lost, Gwayne, the knight she's long regarded as an enemy rescues her. His actions unveil buried vulnerabilities and ignite a fragile new understanding between them.

Hate to Love

• Sexual content (smut!)

A defiant Lannister noblewoman clashes with her stoic guard, Gwayne. Their battle of wills ignites an undeniable attraction, leading to a passionate collision that shatters their defences and reveals that the true danger lies in the fire they spark within each other.

A Chance Encounter

• None

A mother's fear for her son's safety leads to an unexpected encounter with a charming stranger. A subtle connection sparks revealing deeper layers of grief and the promise of new beginnings, a delicate flirtation unfolds, offering a glimpse of hope and romance.

Wound of the Past

• Injury (brief)

They confront old wounds and unresolved feelings as their intimate conversation reveals the ache of lost possibilities reigniting buried emotions and exploring the complexities of loyalty, love, and the choices that shape their fates.

Bad Things

• Sexual content (smut!), infidelity

Torn between her unfaithful husband, the fiery Daemon Targaryen, and the calm, captivating Gwayne Hightower, she finds herself drawn into a dangerous, secret affair. As the tension between passion and guilt rises, she discovers a side of herself she never knew existed.

Shackles of Loyalty

• Violence, mild language

A queen, bent on securing her power, uses her loyal knight, Gwayne. As loyalty and fear intertwine, a dangerous obsession between them grows, revealing dark depths of devotion. In a world where power and manipulation reign, their bond threatens to consume them both.

The Quiet After

• Miscarriage

She grapples with a devastating loss, haunted by grief and a cruel family legacy. Her husband, Gwayne, fights to shield her from both external judgment and her own guilt. Amidst the sorrow, love and emotions offer a fragile lifeline in a world that feels unforgiving.

For works involving other characters from House of the Dragon, please check out my House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jace lived, Helaena lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit.  During the short war, Rhaenyra married Mysaria and one year after the dance of dragons ended, she also married Alicent.

Some other notes: This is dark and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

Chapter One.

Chapter Two: All that you are is transformed.

 “I wish to be anointed.”

   “Anointed?” 

The question did not come from Princess Rhaenys but from Queen Rhaenyra herself, who sat forward on the throne. You dared to allow your eyes to meet hers and her gaze, though formidable, was not cold, simply curious. 

  “I’m smallfolk, Your Grace.  I do not carry the rank or protection of a house, everything you see before you is all that I am. To be by your side would be a blessing, not only to me, but to those who serve you, to all smallfolk. Anoint me, Your Grace, and you anoint yourself.”

Where in all the gods did that come from?

Didn’t matter.

    “Shall we continue on, Your Grace?” Rhaenys asked but Queen Rhaenyra lifted her hand and beckoned you closer.

 You forced one foot in front of the other until you were in front of the dragon queen, your face reflecting in the famed sword Dark Sister, the queen rested one hand on its hilt, the other was outstretched to you.

No, you would not go back to mending dresses and waiting for good bread. You would not die today, not tomorrow, nor the next day.

 You bowed before Rhaenyra and her hand found your cheek, a calloused thumb brushed away your tears. 

   “You believe yourself capable to rule next to me? To forsake all that you have known, all that you are, to be mine and only mine, my lady?”

No one had called you their lady before, much less a lady.

   For your mother, for yourself, you took Rhaenyra’s hand that held your face and put it over your heart.

     “All I ask is for my mother to be safe and never know hunger again. With that I’m yours, Your Grace.”

  You released the queen, only then remembering there were other people in the throne room.

Perhaps you had overestimated yourself, you should have been more demure,curtsied better. Perhaps if you told the truth, confessed that you were wearing a dress stolen from the back of a noble lady you murdered, the queen would show you mercy.

There was no going back now.

Queen Rhaenyra stood and you curtsied again, a sudden storm of fear sweeping over you that calmed when Rhaenyra bent forward and put her lips on your forehead, each cheek,and lastly your lips. 

To know the mouth of the dragon queen was to know The Gods themselves.

  “Send the rest away, I have chosen. “ Rhaeyra ordered and took your hand in hers.

    “I believe the gods have brought you to me for a reason and you will be safe here. Come, we will get you settled in and then I will introduce you to my wives.” Queen Rhaenyra said and suddenly you felt dizzy.

Was this really happening?

Had your fate truly been transformed?

As you two took your leave, a crowd entered the throne room, the not chosen ladies clambering to see who was chosen.

 You spotted your former employer’s daughters and watched their eyes widen at the sight of you on the queen’s arm. They pushed and shoved their way to the front, shrieking.

  “Do you know them?” Princess Rhaenys asked, studying you for a moment.

You made complete and total eye contact with both girls before letting the Queen lead you on.

  “No, I do not believe I do.”

Just a little something to tide you over! Hope you liked it!

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

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