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acontrariis · 2 years

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⸺ Eye of the Hurricane

ʀ. Aemond Targaryen x Vienna Targaryen (OC) ᴡᴄ. 2.4k ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ. Mention of Character Death. Smut. Minors DNI. Hurt/Comfort. Established Relationship. A ton of fluff.

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated or copied in any way, shape or form.

⸺ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | ᴀᴏ𝟹 | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

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summary.

“You saw.”

Not a question, simply a statement. He knew. He knew and it killed him that she did

These events happen during/after the battle at Storm’s End.

News soon reached the Capital of the little Prince’s death. Time stopped for a second, the room silent as all the eyes opened, some in horror, some in delight. Half a sigh and then mayhem assumed. An emergency Council meeting had been called, skirts and capes ran around, their hurried steps filling the castle. The new King laughed in delight, while the Queen Mother scorned in horror. What to do, they wonder. Should they celebrate his victory or scold his restless behavior? While the Greens appeared divided, they all agreed on one thing: there was no escape from the war now.

Amid the chaos, a single face remained absent. Her amethyst eyes now wine, as tears filled her eyes, the emotions taking over. Fear and pain pierced her heart as the teeth tore the warm flesh, and while its mouth filled with blood, hers did with vomit. The drumming of her heart pounded her head as the handmaids rushed to her side. The now broken cup forgotten on the ground, the woman a combination of tears, blood and bile.

The helping hands stripped her of the dirty clothes and rushed to clean her wounds. The metallic scent filled her senses, tears covering her face as the sobs tore her throat raw. Marmee, her trusted handmaiden, already accustomed to her quirks, barely blinked an eye as she instructed the other helpers. No time to stop and wonder, a bath was quickly drawn. While the now naked form sunk in the warm water, the older woman whispered soothing words in hopes to calm the storm in the lady’s mind as they wiped her body clean.

They didn’t know how long it passed, minutes, hours. Loyal to their instructions, the door never opened and no one was informed of the episode. By dinner time, the servants were given a simple excuse for the Princess’ absence. Incense burned, a musk scent filling the room, the only light coming from the few candles lit and the starry sky. A wet cloth fighting to bring her fever down. Not long now… everyone would soon know. The end would begin. In the silence of her room, the woman pondered, breath slowing down as she finally calmed the pounding in her chest.

Hours passed, unable to sleep she stared at the chapped paint on the ceiling, moving only to drink the tea Marmee practically forced down her throat. By dawn break, as the first rays of the sunshine sneaked under the curtains, the Prince arrived at the Castle, and with him, all hell broke loose. As to avoid losing control again, she focused on the sound of her breath instead of the whispers that filled her ears.

A blessing, a curse. A new beginning, a tragic end.

The morning light filled her room as her helper drew the curtains. As a dance they’ve performed many times before, the silk armor was put on her, the threads tighten, the shining black hair shining under the gold. For a minute, as she sat in front of her vanity, Marmee met her eyes. A knowing look exchanged, a heavy silence interrupted by the whispers of the maids. The castle buzzed with the recent news, and while everyone was trying to figure out the next step, she could only feel as if millions of ants ran under her skin and ate her insides.

“He’ll be here soon, make sure everyone leaves the room. Draw a bath and prepare some tea. Leave some medicine to tend to his wounds. I don’t have to remind you, but…’’

“I know, no one is to be let inside. Everything will be prepared as instructed, Princess.”

As she was about to leave, the maid hesitated, a worried look on her face.

“Your Grace, if I may dare… Perhaps you should eat something. Whatever little you were able to eat yesterday was scrubbed off the floors. You have more than yourself to think about.”

A small smile took over her lips at her friend’s concerns. Marmee was the closest thing she had left to a maternal figure, although she has yet to grow accustomed to the attention.

“I’m afraid if I eat anything now, it will just have the same end as yesterday’s supper.” And she added, trying to calm her worries. “I’m okay, truly.”

⸺

The morning was cold, barely any sunlight to heat the shivering breeze the clouds covered when the Prince stepped into her chambers.

“Leave us.”

The maids rushed outside, Aemond locking the door behind them. Taking his time to turn around and face her, the weight on his shoulders made his tall figure seem small. For the first time, he let out the sigh he had been holding in. His previous proud stature now forgotten, the exhaustion showing itself. He cleared his throat before looking at her, the blue storm meeting the dark wine. His gaze softened as he noticed the redness of her eyes.

“You saw.”

Not a question, simply a statement. He knew . He knew and it killed him that she did.

If he was another man, he could cry. If she was someone else, he would have to explain, defend himself and beg for understanding. But as she opened her arms for him, he learned, once again, none of that was necessary. Not in this room, not with her. Perhaps the only person inside these hollow walls that did not care for the war, nor the power. This was not her fight, she made that clear long ago. So he couldn’t help the bloom of gratitude that spurr in his chest as he found comfort in her arms.

“He was a child.”

A mere whisper lost against the fabric of her dress. As she held him in her arms, her heart ached for the poor boy whose remains now floated ashore, for the mother who would not stop counting her loses, for the love that could have and now never will be. Most of all, for the little boy that buried his head on her chest, for the man that allowed himself to show weakness in front of her, for the mark that sealed his destiny and marked his days. A dark shadow covered her heart and she took a deep breath, widening her eyes as if to force the tears to be absorbed again.

After a few minutes of silence, in which the couple embraced each other as if in fear someone would try to break them apart, she spoke first.

“We should have a sheep named Wilburg.” The statement took him by surprise and he looked up from her embrace to find her sad eyes looking back at him, a small curve on her lips. “I also thought about having a goat, but I’m scared it will eat my garden. What do you think?”

This was a little game they played, late at night when nightmares haunted his dreams, when the whispers wouldn’t stop and peace and quiet seemed like a foreign desire, they would create their imaginary life. A cottage in a mountain, with a farm and a big garden, close to a cave for the dragons to sleep and with enough room for the children to run free.

A small grin grew as a puff of air left his lips. It was in moments like this he knew, without a doubt, how much he was loved. She understood him in a way no one else had. He didn’t need fake reassurance, nor empty praises and screeching cheers. He didn’t wanna think about what would come next or what this would mean now for his family. For a single moment, he needed not to be a Prince, a Green, a Targaryen. He needed to just be Aemond.

“I’ll make sure none of the animals get close to your garden, my lady.”

“Oh, my hero.”

Rolling her eyes with a smile, she took his face in her hands and kissed the scar visible under the patch. She took her time leaving pecks on his face, purposely avoiding his mouth. Always a tease , he thought. As the kisses multiplied, his face softened, the previous furrowed brow slowly disappearing, the clench in his jaw easing. In between kisses they continued their game: flowers in every room… a big tub that could fit them both… the crib next to the bed… a pet would be good… what about a dog… He liked cats better…

Taking her time, she started to undress him. The patch covering his eye was the first to go, with a kiss over the blue sapphire. Next, his belt and the pieces of his suit. Item by item were laid carefully on the chair, the bodies rising as he helped her undress him. He reached for the hems of her dress, in hopes of sharing his nudity, to which a slap to his hand was the response. With a pout and a tch , he followed her to the bathtub, to lower himself in the warm water.

She bathed him as she would do an infant, careful and lovingly. At some point, their words stopped coming out, their game fading into a comfortable silence. The water washed away his sins, even if for just a few minutes, yet he still needed more.

“Get inside.”

“No.”

“Get inside.”

A raised eyebrow and a playful smile was the only response he got. He squinted his eyes, he couldn’t help returning her smile. In a swift movement, he pulled her inside the tub. By the time she could react, she was already sitting on the now lukewarm water and a loud “Aemond!” soon followed.

“Oh, look at your dress. What a mess. We can’t leave you like that, wouldn’t want you to get sick, now would we…”

Without giving her room to fight, he quickly rose, taking her in his arms. The now drench dress was disposed of by the window, the dripping water from their bodies creating a trail in their path to the bed. Both bodies now equal in nudity, enjoying each other’s heat. A mix of empty protests and joyful laughs could be heard through the door.

“I’m cold!” A kick to his chest stopped by a fast hand, followed by a bite to the arch of her feet and the giggle it prompted.

“But aren’t you all nice and clean now?” He feigned innocence as he covered their bodies with the mattress. Cold and wet hair stuck to their skin, a tangled mess that paralleled the union of the two figures.

“I’ll have you know, I was already very clean!”

“Yes, you certainly do have a wonderful scent.” He breathed onto her neck and he licked the exposed skin, prompting a moan from her as his teeth sank into her. A new mark, the ones he had made a few nights ago were already fading. Goosebumps covered her skin as he made his way down, a row of kisses and bites, bruising marks that would stay for days marking her as his.

Slowly, he made sure not a part of her body was unmarked. From the soles of her feet, to the top of her head, he worshiped her as if he had all the time in the world. Hours may have passed, neither of them paid any mind. The distant sounds that leaked through the open window felt like a remote reality, a dimension parallel to theirs, so close and yet so far away. With sweet caresses they showed their love, conveying with actions what words couldn’t express.

When he finally reached her center, he hummed in content at the sight of her glistening lips. He lifted her legs so they would rest on his shoulders as he blew onto her womanhood. Mere millimeters were what separated his mouth from her, she could feel every breath he took and the way he inhaled her scent. She moaned his name impatiently, hungry for more.

“May I? You have to use your words, love.”

“Ye-Yes, please.” The shortness of her breath, and the way her hands tuck at his hair made him grin with delight before he buried his tongue in her overflowing center. She lost count of how many times his tongue made her scream out his name in pleasure.

Her skin was flushed, little drops of sweat rolling down her body as her back curved in yet another spams that shook her to the core. A mumbling mess, dizzy from the satisfaction. Her limbs soft, her body at his complete disposal. He took his time, savoring every reaction he would get from her. Once he felt satisfied, the ache in his lower parts hard to ignore, he climbed on top of her.

Her arms quickly closed around his neck as she pulled him in for a kiss. A soft laugh escaped him when she whined as he broke the kiss. Her pupils dilated, she had to squint her eyes to focus on him, a pout adorned her now swollen lips.

“Are you okay, sweets? Talk to me.”

“Hmm, yes… Good.” She smiled at him as she lowered her hand to grab his member. A slow groan left his lips as she aligned him against her entrance. He had prepared her thoroughly, a swift thrust being enough to enter her. A slow rhythm marked his pace, making them lose their minds. She knew he was being careful not to push her too hard, he didn’t want to be too rough with her, but right now she needed more. Using whatever force she had left, she pushed him off her and onto his back before climbing on top of him and sitting on his erection.

The new position presented a deeper stroke that prompted a loud cry from her. The veins on his neck and hands threatened to burst at any minute as he grabbed her hips and helped her move as his sanity snapped. Faster . Rougher . Deeper . Time and time again they reached climax, losing themselves in each other’s arms, forgetting the world around them. All they heard were their breaths, the loud beating of their hearts, the skin clashing. Their senses filled with one another.

Neither of them left the room that day, knights in search of the Prince were sent away, a few selected maids allowed inside the chambers to clean and leave provisions for the day. For the few hours they could steal, their little world was not to be disturbed. Tomorrow will be a new day. Tomorrow they will perform their parts and play their games. Today was for the two of them.

⸺

That night, with only the dragon remains as witness, a candle was lit for the souls that were lost.

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acontrariis · 9 months

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⸺ chapter 3. Zyros.

ʀ. Aemond Targaryen x Vienna Targaryen (OC) ᴡᴄ. 3.1k ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ. Mention of Character Death. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Dragons. Idiots falling in love again.

ɴᴏᴛᴇ. this is LONG, enjoy! ♡ I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated or copied in any way, shape or form.

⸺ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | ᴀᴏ𝟹 | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

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ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ⸺ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

She had no reason to trust him, and he had no reason to help her, and yet that wouldn’t stop either of them from doing exactly that.

Grief brings out the worst in people, the fissures in an already fragile foundation grow with each cry.

Castle Driftmark had turned into a silent residence, the chipped away pieces from the now lost children left an emptiness in Rhaenys she feared would never recover. Pain and loss was not something unknown to her, in all her years they just made her stronger, a thicker skin born from the scars of her past. An armor and sometimes a curse that kept her going, after all this time.

As a thin veil fell on the residents, a fake calm reigned in their lives. The unforgiving time continued as it had before, the seasons changed again and again. Some grew old, and some just grew. Impatient, tired. One could wonder how such a young soul felt so exhausted.

Through the years, Vienna went from an inconvenient eyesore, to the reminder of the lives that were lost. A painting of what could’ve been.

For her, the disdain from the people that called themselves her family had left a scar at a very young age that was too late to try and heal now. It would be a lie to say she stopped caring, but as the pain numbed, so did her anger. So she grew, and she learned. She worked hard, after all, learning everything you can about your adversary was 80% of the fight, and she planned on taking back what was hers.

Her trained memory helped when it came time to memorize. An old language only few spoke, the rules and traditions, the secrets, the scripts and maps. The secret passageways called for her like a siren song leading to a new world. A world where she could dance under the moonlight, the sand sipping through her toes as she became someone else – perhaps her true self.

The escapades had made her more adventurous, fearless in her search for a rebellious phase she was never allowed to have.

That could explain the events of that night. Even the most resilient oak will give after years to the relentless drop. A crack can break the strongest foundations, with the right push, that is.

A warm summer night would be the first witness.

A young woman sneaks back into the old fortress she calls home. The tall walls carry a marvelous echo that was, no doubt, taken into account by the original artisans behind their creation. The woman in question was a gifted soul that could hear the voices of the dead. Something that haunted and, on occasions, saved her. This night in particular, they seemed quieter than usual. Whispers could barely be heard over the sound of her heels hitting the ground.

Experience had taught her to differentiate between the voices and others. That’s why her steps halted when hearing the murmurs echoing through the passage.

“... It’s a waste, that’s what it is.”

The response was too low to be heard, and as the curious (a bit noisy) soul she was, she made her way towards the sound to get a better hear of the conversation.

“Can they even afford to get rid of the dragon? The division among the main family is no secret, can they spear one dragon?”

Corlys.

“It’s not as if they can use it. She won’t let any rider get close. They’ve lost count of how many men have died trying to tame it…”

Vienna’s heart stopped, a ringing in her ears covered the muffled voices as a heavy sat on top of her stomach. They couldn’t possibly be talking about her. After all this time, everything they’ve been through, they couldn’t kill her before she had a chance to get her back. She had to save her, she had to do something.

Her mind started going a million miles per second, she knew there was no time to panic, if news had already reached Driftmark, there would be no time left until it was too late. Still, her heart ached and fear closed her throat as her eyes filled with tears.

Think!

Do something!

Vienna, breathe!

A long inhale filled her lungs, as she found herself on her hands and knees. This is it.

⸺

Sneaking out of a castle without being seen is an easy feat when people prefer not to see you. The right outfit and enough coins will take you anywhere you need. That’s how the rogue Princess made her way into the heart of Westeros that early morning.

A fateful encounter brewing under the first rays of light.

⸺

That day had started like any other for the young Princes. In the reversed roles they grew into, the Youngest had early mornings of training and studying: the Eldest had late nights filled with debauchery and even later afternoons in between. Unless specifically called, their routines stayed the same.

This day, Aegon felt particularly tired of his set routine. He’d grown used to the excesses and now found them quite mild. He knew someone, however, that was not used to it. And what a great pleasure he would find in annoying his little brother.

Flea Bottom, he thought, would be the perfect place for him to drag the stoic young man. Not quite an easy feat, but one he was proud of pulling off.

A few hours had passed since Vienna’s arrival. Her mind colder as the rocking of the boat calmed the storm in her head. She knew this was truly it. Stealing a dragon, even if originally hers, would not be seen as a cute little prank. This was treason. There were people in the Capital who already wanted her head on a spike, and this would give them the perfect excuse. The Velaryons wouldn’t stand for her, if anything, they would be the first to throw her to the wolves.

She knew all of this, she pondered over every option and possibility and yet she had come to the same conclusion. It still made no sense for them to want to kill Zyros now, but that was a chance she couldn’t afford to take. She much preferred to put on a fight than let her dragon die alone.

Sneaking through the city was an easy feat, although a bit overwhelming, but she found no one truly paid her much mind. She had been outside of the Dragonpit for a few hours now. Two men guarded the main entrance. The security was less than impressive, but then again, only an idiot would try to steal a dragon. Blending in with the crowd was her way of staying hidden until night time.

A bony hand squeezing her shoulder proved to be an obstacle to that intention.

Aegon was doing everything to stop Aemond from going back to the castle, it was impossible to drag him to a whore house, so he was desperately looking for something right there on the street to catch his attention. That’s when he saw her. Her face and body were covered, disguising what he was certain were womanly curves. The dark tones of her robes almost made her mix with the crowd, but the tension of her posture and the delicate hands showed she was not familiar with that establishment.

This could be fun.

As Aemond’s protests faded in the background, Aegon approached the sitting figure, whistling under his breath. A sardonic smile and a cheesy line, “What do we have here?” were met with a pair of bright purple orbs.

To say he was taken aback was an understatement. He hated history lessons, but even he knew those eyes were unusual. As quick as he saw them, the glow had disappeared, a pair of black hollows taking their place.

Vienna looked at the hand on his shoulder and back to the man attached to it. She knew who he was. Although dirty and oily, the characteristic white hair gave away his identity.

The look of disgust was something she could probably be able to hide better under other circumstances, today was not one of those days. She looked truly royal, her back straight and the despective look she was giving him, as if he was a mere bug on the ground.

This brief interaction was not missed by Aemond, who stood a few steps away from his brother. This didn’t look like his usual encounters, and even he could tell that the woman was not a prostitute. Not that it mattered much. A tired sigh left him as he urged Aegon to hurry along, people were beginning to stare and he did not wish for a scandal to get back to mother.

Nevertheless, the eldest Prince was stubborn. He was used to the looks of disgust, his family had never been one to hide their judging looks, but from a mere peasant? That was more than his pride could take.

Aegon threw 2 coins at her, intentionally hitting the side of her face.

“I think that should cover your services. Hurry along now.”

Vienna could feel her blood boiling. She looked up at the heavens for some wisdom, someone to tell her not to do the stupid thing she really wanted to do. Kill him. Breathe. Slash his throat. Calm down. Without uttering a word, she stood from her seat.

Just walk past him, keep walking, ignore him.

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. As Aegon reaches for her arm once again, she catches his hand and twists it until the bones crack, and then hell breaks loose.

Run.

There were no guards around, all previously instructed by Aegon to “not ruin the mood”, but the shriek of pain was so loud, Aemond was sure it had reached the throne room. Next thing he knew, his brother was on the floor, cradling his arm against his chest as the cause of his pain ran away.

⸺

Late that night, Aemond still had yet to return to the Red Keep. Aegon had left long ago, gone someone to tend to his broken hand… and ego. Going back would mean to explain his absence, and he was still looking for the perpetrator that attacked his defenseless brother.

Pfft, right.

He tried to find her, he truly did. He couldn’t stand his brother, but even if he most definitely deserved it, that was still his family. His loyalty was something that wouldn’t be questioned. Even if he had to swallow the laugh fighting to come out. So he ran after her, and he searched every crook and cranny he could think of. Not only did no one know who she was, he didn’t think they would actually tell him even if they did. His brother’s reputation was notorious and to say he was not a lovable royal, would be an understatement.

Still, he did his best. Although an uneasy feeling sat in his chest.

The night air crackled with electricity as Venus cradled the moon lighting his path.

Vienna was on edge, not only was she almost discovered, she also went and caused a scene in the middle of the most crowded street in King’s Landing. The beating of her heart ticked as a clock reminding her time was of the essence. Then finally, during a shift change, with only the moon as her witness, she sneaked inside the Dragonpit.

… Or so she thought.

It was a mere coincidence, he was stalling and felt the most at ease close to the creatures. So he stayed around and that’s when he finally saw her. If she was not a prostitute, then was she an informant? A thief would not enter that place knowing they would most likely not come out. Half curious and half out of his sense of responsibility, he followed the dark figure inside. Her robes flowing in the air as a familiar scent stopped him in his tracks.

He couldn’t place it, but as his mind fought with the memories, the uneasiness in his chest grew.

Vienna would beat herself later for her slip, she credited it to the lack of sleep and the stress, but as she continued following the cries of her dragon, she couldn’t see or hear anything else. The closer she got, the louder they became and she was entranced, walking down the familiar, and yet unknown, path.

As they dove deeper into the caved structure, Aemond hesitated for a second. He knew what was back there, and not even him, who tried long before to get a dragon by many means, dared to go. After almost burning to death, and seeing many more be eaten alive, he decided to stay as far away as possible from the untamed beast.

He almost stopped her, he could interrogate her and get the information he needed, but something stopped him. Maybe it was his own curiosity, maybe the fact she seemed to be enchanted, not even flinching at the growls from the dragons she passed on her way down.

Aemond tensed up as they reached the cage, ready to pull her back at any moment. The drops of sweat fell down his forehead to meet the dryness of his lips.

The large beast resided in the farthest cage in the pit. The tall iron gates guarded the dragon, its amethyst scales shining under the soft candlelight. It felt their presence, and it was not happy, as usual. The chilling growl reverberated through their bodies. Aemond held his breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible as to not further upset it. Just as he was about to pull her back and ask her what she meant to do, the woman pulled off the robes covering her face and carefully raised her hand to the dragon.

“Shh, lykirī, Zyros.” Calm.

He couldn’t believe it, it took him an entire minute to remove the dumbfounded expression from his face. She was actually talking to the dragon, and the once murderous beast, now calmly approached her: its snout touching the extended hand.

Zyros’ hot breath was the remnant of her initial threat. A few tears left Vienna and as the dragon growled under her breath, she giggled with happiness. She drew her face close to Zyros, barely holding her snout as they touched.

“It’s me. I got you. Now let’s try to not get killed getting out of here.”

How hard could it be? She had seen it a million times. She memorized every step to appeasing the dragon, securing the seat, setting the ladder, one foot in front of the other, over and sitting. Breathe. It was fine, she could do it, she had done it in her mind many times before.

She…

She was fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

She was not one for spiraling, especially not when she was in a foreign place and the escape route was exactly the same one as the entrance. But, as mentioned before, this was new. Her young mind and vivid imagination couldn’t have prepared her for what actually goes into it. This was work done by multiple people at once, multiple very experienced people. Vienna could feel her breathing getting louder as a heavyweight sat on her ribs. She couldn’t panic. If she panicked, Zyros would panic, and if Zyros panicked, chaos would ensue.

There’s no time.

“Would you like a hand?”

The question came out before he could stop himself. What on earth was he doing? He couldn’t help her, she was a thief, he couldn’t let her just walk out of here with a dragon… He knew all of that, and yet, it felt right.

The bond between a dragon and its rider is a complicated science no one has completely deciphered. Some think their souls had been bound by blood magic since the moment of their birth. He, particularly, didn’t believe in that, as he grew up without a dragon most of his life. The one certain thing, in this case at least, was that whoever this girl was, she was connected to this dragon, Zyros, and that was something he couldn’t bring himself to ignore.

Vienna’s breath stopped. This couldn’t be happening. She made sure she was alone. Closing her eyes, she slowly turned around before opening them. Behind her, Zyros growled slowly a warning, her head still bowed and closed to Vienna. And for a minute there, time stopped as the lovers lost in each other's eyes.

The spell had long been broken, so now Aemond could fully see the purple orbs that adorned her face and brought back memories of their past.

Vienna took a second to take him in. He had grown, the sharp features of his face long left behind the little kid hiding from his family. His tall figure towered over her, and he raised his hands in peaceful surrender.

Carefully, without making a sound, Aemond gathered the things necessary. Zyros had never had a rider, so a saddle was never given to her.

“May I?”

A nod was the only response he got, the woman too shocked to even speak out loud. Making sure Zyros wouldn’t attack him, he began prepping her. They worked as a pair, Vienna was familiar with the process, so assisting Aemond wasn’t hard. Although she appreciated the help, she struggled with simply accepting it. He had no reason for helping her.

You had no reason when you helped him.

True, then again…

“Why are you helping me?”

He shrugged his shoulders before making sure the locks were properly set, and turning to look at her, hoping she could see his sincerity.

“She’s yours, isn’t she? That’s good enough for me, and no one will miss her here.”

“Even still, I’m pretty sure people will notice a flying dragon in the middle of the night. It will be a miracle if they don’t send someone to shoot me down.”

“Let me worry about that. Okay, all done. Ready?”

Vienna nodded in response. A part of her was terrified, and she would be an idiot if she denied it. Mounting the dragon was a work in itself, as Zyros was by no means small and Vienna wasn’t exactly very tall. Not only was this the first time she would ride a dragon, the one she would ride was none other than one that has never been ridden before. If the guards didn’t kill her, the ride might.

“Dohaerās, Zyros.” Obey.

It took some effort, but once she was finally seated, Vienna let out the breath she had been holding. Her heart felt like it was about to burst, it was an euphoric feeling. Her joyful laugh echoed through the walls as she held onto the reins.

Her happiness was contagious and Aemond couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“Now, wait for the signal and then come out. Okay?”

She paused for a minute, their eyes meeting. She had no reason to trust him, and he had no reason to help her, and yet that wouldn’t stop either of them from doing exactly that.

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acontrariis · 1 year

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⸺ chapter 2. Driftmark.

ʀ. Aemond Targaryen x Vienna Targaryen (OC) ᴡᴄ. 3.1k ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ. Mention of Character Death. Mention of Mutilation. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. FLUFF. Just children (kinda) falling in love.

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated or copied in any way, shape or form.

⸺ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | ᴀᴏ𝟹 | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

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ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ⸺ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

The greatest moments of your life usually happen when you least expect it, sometimes without you even knowing it.

Getting engaged against your will and banished in the span of a week was not something many could say have experienced, especially before you could even have a much needed drink to cope, and yet, at the tender age of 13, Vienna had already learned how cruel those who called themselves your family can truly be. Moving homes was a familiarity that did not feel lighter with each new encounter.

Pieces of her childlike innocence were robbed to never be found again, and with each of them, the girl wondered if there was ever a real home for her. Luckily, she had learned how families come in different shapes and forms, and the people she chose to love were the most loyal companions she could’ve asked for.

As the years went by, she learned and grew. Harnessing her powers, maturing her craft, taking in as much information as she could get her hands on.

Settling down in Driftmark had proven to be a blessing in disguise. The Velaryons were far from the loving cousins she would wish for, but they didn’t mind her much. A debt had been paid, they explained on her arrival. Nothing more, nothing less. Half of the time they acted as if she wasn’t even there. Another canvass on the wall, an empty shell in which to draw. Meanwhile, Maera’s visits were fewer by the day, though her letters never missed.

Her days went on as usual, with Marmee’s company and the voices to fill the silence, a sense of normality had been established.

… And then the news arrived, Laena Velaryon was dead.

A rider’s death.

She had never personally met her, but she noticed how the only times Rhaenys’ eyes shone when speaking to her was when her daughter was mentioned. The anguished cries echoed in Vienna’s ears.

Death. Funeral. Reunion. Hate.

So much hate.

The overwhelming voices, topping on top of each other, fighting for recognition was a chaos her mind proved not to be ready for. It was a good thing no one expected her presence, as the fever wouldn’t let her get out of bed. The blood in her body boiled while the ringing in her ears clouded her thoughts. So she laid in bed while the preparations were made for the funeral; wet cloths and soft touches grounded her from the chaos in her mind and the voices that slipped through the cracks.

⸺

“I wouldn’t have imagined you would take her under your wing, Princess Rhaenys.”

The woman scoffed, as if hearing a bad joke with which she decided to play along.

“Well, someone has too. Whatever she may be, the Targaryen name is still hers, given that the previously planned transaction failed.”

Her sardonic smile was met with a hardened look, perfected through the years. The Green Queen was the perfect embodiment of the Hightowers. Never a hair out of place, never a misstep, never an inappropriate answer. Every glance and every move perfectly calculated. Rhaenys always pitied the younger woman, the endless possibilities of what could have been. Now her cold eyes were staring back at her as if trying to decipher her thoughts and she couldn’t help being amused, how a little child could anger the most powerful woman in the realm was beyond her understanding.

“Yes, well, we’ve witnessed how legitimacy is not always ensured when it comes to the next line.”

“I sure hope you wouldn’t be making any accusations, my Queen. Like, for example, saying a child is not who they intend to be. That would certainly be a grave matter, wouldn’t you agree?”

⸺

The pup will anger the beast.

Among the clamor, a particular voice kept repeating the same prediction. Vienna couldn’t understand who it was referring to, and as much as she tried to ask, the response would always be the same. A day passed, the family had arrived earlier, all the preparations ready for the ceremony. Even as her fever had subdued, Marmee still wouldn’t let her get out of bed, in fears it would worsen again.

It was late in the afternoon when Vienna sneaked out of her chambers, bored out of her mind, the walls her suffocating as a soft light from the cloudy sky creeped under the curtains.

She didn’t understand how, maybe the fatigue clouding her mind finally made it impossible for her to hear as much as before, maybe someone somewhere took pity on her and quieted the chaos from before. Whatever it was, only a few whispers remained, as if the cries from before had been sealed, only a far away murmur was present.

Enjoying the much needed peace, Vienna focused on silencing the remaining voices, the sound of her footsteps loud in the empty hall. A snack would do her good, she hadn’t been able to have a proper breakfast and, as much as she loved Marmee’s cooking, the sickly soup made her wanna puke, not that she would ever admit it.

Smiling to herself, she made her way to the kitchen void of people, she assumed most of them would be resting before the preparations for dinner. Taking advantage of the solitude, she proceeded to get the food to snack on. As she was pouring out the milk, she noticed her company.

A beautiful boy looked back at her, soft blue eyes and long white hair, he was the prettiest boy she’d ever seen and the embarrassed heat she felt taking over her cheeks was quick to appear. The boy couldn’t have been much older than her, they were about the same height and built. The royal green clothes accentuated the paleness of his skin, making him almost seem like a ghost.

She didn’t know what to say, it wasn’t often she would meet children her age, being surrounded by adults most of her life, this came to be a new experience for her.

The white-haired Prince was as surprised as she was, he didn’t expect anyone to be in the kitchen, as he had made sure everyone was out before coming here seeking some peace from all the tension in the family reunion going outside. At first he thought she may be a maid, the daughter of some servant maybe, that would explain why no one was informed the Velaryons were housing a child.

However, at closer look, her dress looked as expensive as his own clothes, probably even more. The finest silk covered her head to toe, and if he didn’t already know, he would be sure she belonged to the royal family. As he analyzed her, he didn’t miss the fear mixed with curiosity in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting company either, and the shock that froze her quickly stopped as she felt the cold milk wetting her fingers.

Letting out a curse word, something she’d heard from the stable boys that was certainly not allowed for a lady, she quickly put the container aside as she hurried to find something to clean herself with. Surprised at the sudden burst, Aemond couldn’t help but let out a laugh, though quickly covered it with a cough as he offered her a cloth tissue he tended to keep at hand.

“I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

“Oh, no… Don’t worry. It was my fault, I’m usually more alert. I should get going, anyway.”

She smiled politely at him and quickly bowed as she turned to leave.

“Wait… wait a moment.”

He wrapped his hand around her arm, stopping her exit. He was curious about her. She was too well-dressed to be a servant, her manners and even the way she hurriedly bowed all pointed to an education most couldn’t afford. She was clearly not a worker, so why weren’t they informed of her presence here?

Just as he was about to inquire further into her identity, Cole bursts through the kitchen doors. His permanent frown pronounced as he scanned the room till his eyes landed on Aemond.

“There you are. Let’s go, your mother is looking for you.”

“Why? Wait…”

By the time he noticed, the girl had already disappeared, escaping from his grasp. As Cole questioned Aemond about his older brother’s whereabouts, he dragged him out of the room. One final look over his shoulder showed him the flare of a wine skirt hiding behind the cupboard.

⸺

Late that night, the room was silent when Vienna made her way in Aemond’s chambers, only the soft breathing of the boy lying in bed could be heard in the darkness of the night. Careful as to make any sound, she approached the bed. She didn’t have much time, Marmee would notice her absence any minute, but she just wanted to help him a little. Aemond tossed in bed, as if a nightmare hunted him. It had taken him over an hour and much milk of the puppy to finally be able to fall into slumber.

Hopping carefully on the bed, Vienna held Aemond’s hand, soft whispers tried to calm him as she reassured him he was safe now. Once the boy had finally stopped, she pulled the medicine she had taken from Marmee’s collection. The cold ointment had healed more than her share of cuts and bruises through the years, and she hoped it would ease some of his pain. As she carefully applied it over his pulsing wound, she softly prayed he wouldn’t wake up yet.

As quietly as she had made her entrance, Vienna left, not before wishing, one last time, for the boy of the beautiful eyes to be okay.

The next morning, Aemond woke up to a familiar yet unknown scent lingering in the air. The piercing pain now simmered down as he slowly got up. The fragrant smell calmed him and soothed the anxiety that filled his mind the minute he woke up. An unfamiliar golden canister caught his eye, that wasn’t there last night, he didn’t think; a note indicating to apply it twice a day was the only explanation he got. After last night’s events, his head was clearing as memories flooded his brain. Questions piled up the remainder of his trip and all the way home, yet despite his constant inquiries about the strange can and the curious girl he met then, they never met again.

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acontrariis · 2 years

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⸺ prelude

ʀ. Aemond Targaryen x Vienna Targaryen (OC) Later on ᴡᴄ. 2.1k ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ. Mention of Character Death. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Dragons. Idiots falling in love again. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated or copied in any way, shape or form.

⸺ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | ᴀᴏ𝟹 | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

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ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

History remembers names.

Rather, whoever’s writing it does. Little does anyone say about the ones that got lost in time. Patches of ink on crumpled paper that have been turned to ashes. Pieces of a forgotten past. Buried under the retellings of a deceitful memory. Not just anyone’s memories. Only those who live get to tell the stories. Teach the lessons. Erase the failures.

This is what this story is, a recollection of failures. The black sheeps of the family. The little branch that got cut from the tree. The letters that were burnt. The passages only some knew and even fewer remember. This is a journey through the cracks, the secret tunnels that threatened the perfect foundation we now stand on. The remnants of a life that grows in the fissures. For all it takes is a single ray of sun to bring us back to life.

⸺

Our story begins a few years in the near past.

History books tell us that Viserys I Targaryen’s reign was decided at the Great Council of 101 A.C. Having yet to produce a male heir, Daemon Targaryen was the closest heir the King had. A young, wild and hot-headed man, unsuited for the throne. The two brothers served as two sides of a coin, night and day, the heirs of the Targaryen Household.

However, what most ignore is the thin line of blood wiped from the records, a reckless child, the third brother, Daeron Targaryen. It is said that with his birth, he took what little life was left of Princess Alyssa. Hated by his father and resented by his brothers, the child grew prone to aversion and hostility. Those who knew him would whisper of the Prince’s indiscretions. A privileged child, who had everything but his family’s love.

From a young age, the little Prince showed excellence in all areas. A lover of arts and a skilled swordsman. Perhaps the previous statement should be corrected, he was excellent in all areas that could be taught. A quick learner that despite his talents, was not blessed with the natural gifts a Targaryen should possess. Perhaps the only true gift his blood had given him, along with the white hair and amethyst eyes, was madness, and as he stared at the egg that never hatched, this one only worsened.

As he grew, the main pleasures of his life came from sex and death. He controlled the powerless in a way he wished to control his family. Once he was old enough, he made it his goal to know the Seven Kingdoms. Never staying in one place for a long time, his days passed in a constant turmoil. One maid once heard him say if he stayed still for too long, the voices would surely eat him inside. So he kept moving, an enemy to silence and a lover of chaos. It is said he rivaled his brother Aemond in mischief.

Little to no attention was paid to his antics, having grown well accustomed to, what they called, the Prince’s attention seeking behavior. No one truly knew where the funds for his endeavors came from. It was well known the crown had as little ties to him as they could, giving the minimum a Prince could have. However, some said Daeron was the owner of several establishments; using multiple aliases, making sure no ties to his real name were left, his golden hands crafted his own network of trade.

Daeron’s life was a constant loop. Arrive at a new town, party, invest, have fun, leave. And on and on he went. A whirlwind of emotions in the body of a young man. Until one day in a peculiar little town, so small it didn’t show in the maps, full of magic and life. This was his second time coming to this place. The first one, many moons ago, he had stumbled in the area by accident, after getting in a heated argument a few towns over and leaving in the cover of the night. His savior that night, his accomplice and later on business partner, took him in that night and taught him how to be a proper man. Something he had forgotten along the way in his self pity journey.

Maera, a beautiful woman, wicked smart with a compassionate heart. She could read into your soul and decide what kind of person you were in minutes. That cold night she took a peculiar interest in him, without giving him any reason why. Still a young impressionable boy, he learned everything he could from her. For the first time since embarking on his trip, he decided to stay in one place, with the closest thing to a family he ever knew. She never told him her age, but he knew she was older, not by looks but by her actions. He felt like a child next to her, and not only because that’s how she treated him sometimes.

Soon, the raging storm that haunted his dreams quieted.

In this little town, Maera was considered of great importance, well respected and loved. Everyone came to her seeking advice and help. A knower of deeper arts, that came from a far away land long ago. It is said her knowledge surpassed by far that of the Maesters at the palace, and her beauty was the fruit of the most exquisite poetry. She became the first motherly figure the boy had ever had. It was known that even after years of leaving the land, thousands of crows flew from and back to deliver the correspondence of the pair. She would also be the one to join our two lovers, even if unintentionally, she would be one of the dominoes leading to the origins of this story.

The Harvest Festival. A long celebration of life and all the pleasures that came with it, especially those of the flesh. As was usual, the Prince was engrossed in the different interactions, sitting in his makeshift throne, the center of attraction. It’s funny, in retrospect, how a single glance could change the course of history as we know it. Her hair shone under the pale moonlight like an illusion, a golden mask covering half of her face, the darkness of her eyes drowning him. A wicked smile could be seen, her white teeth shining pearls as she bowed before him, the spinner trapping its prey.

Thick ebony hair, eyes so black they could swallow you whole and a smile that drew you in, as a siren song to her spider web. Elaena. Her name came like a prayer, a sip of water to a dying man. All everyone knew about her was that she had crossed the narrow sea with a group of misfits, entertainers of the lowest pleasures. Her mystery only added to her charm and made her that more desirable to everyone who laid their eyes on her. However, on a clear night, the full moon lighting their path, their eyes met under the masks and disguises and never looked back.

⸺

For five springs their love bloomed.

Devoted and faithful, their eyes only saw each other and knew no one better than the other. Despite the initial disapproval of the family, the lovers married soon after that first night. The Prince was said to happily adjust to married life. Leaving his wandering days in the past, he committed himself to the newfound happiness he had so desperately craved. The constant trips were reduced, the burden lessened. Their days were filled with a peace that came from building their life together. A long forgotten castle, neighbors to House Arryn on the eastern lands, was their home.

It was said the Lady of the Arryn had an interest in the charming Prince. Favoring his wicked humor and his scheming mind, many believed the reason she so eagerly welcomed the couple in her lands was for a chance to see the white-haired man up close. It was no secret that the newly crowned Queen had less than a kind thought for the recently named Princess, as did the rest of the royal family. An unknown woman from some far away land, next to an unstable man who, they deemed, had brought nothing but misfortunes to their lifeline were to be kept away, or so they thought.

As their household bloomed with love, it was not to say it didn’t suffer its own hardships. Many losses were suffered through the years, the Princess agonizing cries ringing through the castle walls as yet another life was lost. Some thought it was a curse, “Perhaps the Princess is not meant to bear children”, the Maesters would say. Still, despite the Prince's protests and fears, the Princess’ attempts didn’t waver. She wanted to give him a family, she would say. He deserved that.

On their last attempt Maera was called, once again. Seeing the fragile state of the Princess, her first thought was to terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible. The only thing that refrained her from expressing it was the tired look on Elaena’s face. Her eyes revealed the pain she was desperately trying to hide inside. Her swollen belly was too big for her worn out body and yet she caressed it with such devotion, one may think her a saint.

It is said the Prince became a shell of what he once was, consumed with worry and fear for his wife, he would not leave her side if he could help it. It took a nudge and a sleeping remedy for the women to have some privacy.

There are some things, in a marriage, one must keep from the other. Whether that is to protect them or to protect themselves, that is of little importance when dealing with the consequences, which is why the Priestess didn’t flinch when hearing the Princess’s confession.

“I did something bad and I believe I may have cursed our child.”

A blood curse is not easily, if ever, truly broken, for there’s no curse more twisted than love.

On the third night of a cold winter night, a black haired babe was born with wine colored eyes, shining full of life as her cries echoed through the castle. And as her father had done before, her birth sealed their parents fate, for the hex was impossible to crack.

“You know, I never wanted children,” Maera said, as a secret shared between confessions “troublesome little creatures, they are. I do a fine enough job finding trouble by myself, you know?”

The comment was met with a breathless laugh, the pale complexion covered in sweat showing something close to a smile.

“But there was something about that boy that night. His expression screamed all levels of problems, I knew the first time I saw him he would be a pain. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him alone… and now I’m glad I didn’t.”

Maera held Elaena’s hand in hers, as the latter silently cried, her strength long gone.

“I will take care of your child. Whatever the course, I swear to look after her.”

A promise. A vow. A sentence.

The Princess’ cries, begging for forgiveness and regretting making their daughter an orphan, were heard through the castle as the couple held each other one last time, their final goodbye lost in the memories of the newborn child.

⸺

Some say the Prince went mad with greed. Tired of his brothers’ mistreatments, he took out the rage on those weaker than him. His wife, an unfortunate victim. Stories tell they killed each other in a fit of rage, the witch, tired and resentful, made sure that was the last bruise he put on her face. With a dagger in hand, the desperate wife launched her attack, the precise aim of a killer striking the vital points of her lover. It is said the wench, covered in the warm blood of her husband, took the knife to her neck, bidding one last farewell to the crying infant in the crib by the bed.

However, other voices, the witnesses in the dark, the following eyes of this fiery dance, assured the prince went mad, without a doubt. But it was the poor condition his wife had been in what drove him to insanity. You see, the princess never recovered from the blood loss that childbirth presented. Two nights she bled, the pain driving her to delusions. The prince held her through it all, and by the time her last breath was exhaled, with it went his. For their lives have been joined as one, as only true lovers could be. ⸺

Rumors said an egg was stolen from a baby's crib. Blacker than the night sky, covered in amethyst jewels, the unclaimed dragon from the hatched egg was a vision in itself. Many tried to tame it, their flesh served as fuel for the creature to grow, forever without a rider.

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