200 DAYS OF HOUSE TARGARYEN ↳ day 35: rhaenyra targaryen in the lord of the tides

Outlander au (kinda)

Alicent wakes up one day with the awareness of a life where she was a medic in WWII and was... married to Rhaenyra (wow what a shocker)

Then she realizes that in this reality she is almost getting into a war with her wife who died during one!!!

Detail, she wakes up during the ep that Aemond loses his eye and she controls the situation herself. She while she sends daggers to Rhaenyra who arrives with a face like she just had sex and she knows VERY WELL. Anyway, she fixes her son's eye herself as she throws out the maester who makes a mess and is being unnecessarily messy about it, she also goes to Luke who stares at her in fear and a reluctant Rhaenyra who lets her through, to take care of the boy's nose.

made a last-minute decision to dress up as rhaenyra targaryen for a halloween party with my dnd group, unaware that the two friends who were hosting were planning to be aemond & vhagar

i spent the 2 days before halloween making the bodice out of scraps from my fabric hoard, and the skirt out of an abandoned half-finished cape. the coat was one of the first pieces i ever made when i was learning to use a sewing machine in 2007 or 08

I’m too wicked, I want to take all of your heart (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

(I can’t with this man, by the way, this is completely free of spoilers as I am saving myself from them as well, so I might be off until monday.)

Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: An act of jealousy made you want to possess your husband in every sense

Warning: Mentions of cringy bathtub sex and then the bed, but still cringy, really possesive behaviour from both parts, also jealousy from your part, read if you want, but if you are a minor, leave! why are you here?!

A/N: I’m kinda angry that the final episode that was leaked, so I’m planing to just go off tumblr until it airs. So this is spoiler free and a thank you from my part as I have reached 200 followers, that is crazy guys! thank you so much, hope you enjoy this little thing I made instead of my homework. 

It was way into the night, you knew it perfectly as you made your way across the almost empty corridor. You knew this was beyond your agreement, but you didn’t care, you needed to see him. After many days without any news from him, you needed to see with your own eyes he was unharmed.

Your bare feet made no sound as you carried yourself to your destination. You enter without knocking as there was no need for formalities.

You glanced around, a few well-placed lit candles illuminating the room. It wasn’t bright and the occasion didn’t demand it. You walked towards the bathtub, your fingers caressing the gold edges of it, feeling the heat of the water that was already there, waiting to be used.

You closed your eyes, slowly inhaling the aroma of the room, a few herbs made contact with your senses and everything screamed of him. The scent of your husband already penetrating your persona: sandalwood, lemons and smoke.

“My lady? Is everything alright?” The sound of Lillen, the girl in charge of bathing your husband asked you in confusion. She was filling the bathtub with hot water.

You stayed put, your hands carefully tidying your night dress. “You are dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” She asked you. “My prince will need me to bathe him.”

You chuckled. “I am perfectly capable of doing that.”

Lillen’s eyes sparked with amusement at your request, almost laughing at your ridiculous words. “The prince will still need me to undress him, I cannot leave yet my lady.” She turned and continued her task of filling the tub. “It is late, my lady. You must go and rest. Do not worry about the prince. I will take care of him.”

Your brows twitched with anger, hands curled into fists. You tried so hard not to explode with anger at her innuendo. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “I believe I have not made myself clear.”

“Is the bath ready?” Aemond, your husband asked without looking at you or Lillen, too busy throwing his coat on the floor.

“Yes.” You answer softly, ignoring how the girl turned at you with anger, your eyes scanning his full body, trying to locate any wound he could have. Aemond turned at the sound of your voice, his face not showing any emotion but you could have sworn his eye opened a bit more in surprise. “You must hurry, the water might turn cold in any second.”

He nodded at your direction. “My wife, I apologize but I didn’t expect you to be here, I thought you might have been already asleep.” You smiled at his words, you could understand the tone he was using. He didn’t want you here.

“My prince, I was telling my lady she needs to go back to her room and rest.” Lillen stood next to Aemond, her hands touching his arm, tugging him a little towards the bathtub.

“Leave us.” You firmly told her, your eyes staring at Aemond’s face. “I can take it from here.”

Your husband’s eye sparked with amusement at your tone.

“I apologize, my lady.” Lillen continue arguing. “But I am capable of doing my job.”

“My wife has order you to leave us.” Aemond stared at the girl. “Do not question her authority in front of my persona.”

You felt the knot between your shoulders loosen in relief at his support. Lillen shot him a look with complete shock but said nothing as she made her way out of the room, her shoulder colliding with yours as she left. You sighed in relief and began walking towards Aemond.

Aemond stayed quiet as you began to unbuttoning his shirt. You tried to calm your temptation as his proximity demanded to be touched. You could feel his warmth throught the layers of clothes he wore. Your mind began wandering back to the Lillen for a second, her resistance to stay told you one thing. She hoped for something more from your husband.

How many other women had the privilege of undressing him? Of touching him?

You didn’t want to know the answer.

You didn’t like the answer.

Your eyes looked up, Aemond was watching you carefully. “Yes?”

“You seemed distracted.” His hand grabbed yours, feeling it shake. “Is everything alright? Has something been bothering you?” You looked up, meeting his violet eye. Your hands touch his stomach, carefully sliding upwards until both of them rested against his chest. Aemond quickly covered them with his. “What is it?”

You shook your head, a soft smile made its way onto your lips, your gaze returned to the open shirt. Had he been with another woman tonight? Weren’t you enough? You pushed that thought away from your mind and glanced up. “Please.” You whispered.

He help you slide the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground without care. You were aware of his intense stare. His breath stirring your hair, there was a faint smell of wine. You didn’t know where he went these past few days. Perhaps his mother asked him for a few favors. Who knew, they never let you know their affairs.

Your fingers fumbled on that last thought and then you felt it. Jealousy. You knew before he married you, before your father offered your hand to his house who his brother was, so it was completely understandable that he might be the same. You believed you could be happy with whatever small part of himself he could share with you. You knew and you tried to prepare yourself for the other woman that could came to him in secret, you thought you could simply ignore it. But having him away from you, not knowing what could happened to him or what he would have done without your acknowledge could destroy any preparation you had.

But now. Now in this moment, now that he was in front of you, supporting your orders towards the servers, letting you undress him. You understood perfectly. You wanted him, you wanted all of him. You wanted to make him yours.

The warmth of his skin surrounded your fingers. The scent of his skin was hot and masculine, completely delicious as you breathed in. You almost close your eyes to savor him. “You don’t have to.” His whispers brought you back to reality.

“I know…but I want to.” You reply silently.

He straightened for a moment and you almost forgot how to breathe. Aemond was a tall man, your head only reaching his chin. He was slim but his body demonstrate the hours he put to train. Long, lean muscles corded his arms and shoulders. You knew how hard he work to be perfect, you saw him in the secretness of the shadows. You had the urge to touch him, to trail your fingers across his body.

You glance up and he was still watching you, his face still not showing emotion. Your hand reached up and touched his eye patch, your fingers carefully traced the borders of it but didn’t reach far as Aemond’s hand grabbed yours, slowly pulling it down, softly kissing your palm before placing it against his cheek.

“I don’t want you to see it.” He whispered. “I don’t want to scare you.”

You sighed and gestured it towards the bathtub. “Please enter before it gets cold.”

He nodded silently, quickly undoing the rest of his clothes. Aemond entered the bathtub, closing his eye for a moment before offering you his hand. “Come.”

“I believe my job is to help you bathe, my husband. That was the servant’s job, wasn’t it?” You sat at the border, your hand placing a strand of silver hair behind his ear.

He smirked for a second. “Jealousy does suit you.” He tugged at your hand. “But at this moment, the only wish I have is for my wife to bathe with me. Come.”

You hesitated for a moment.

“Do you trust me?” He asked you.

You watched him in silence before nodding, his hands grasp your waist and dragged you carefully into the water. The hot water made you hissed at the feeling. Your night dress began sticking to your skin but neither of you bothered to take it off…yet.

“You had me worried for your safety.” You stretched for a second, your hand grabbing the silver bowl at your side. You filled it with water and Aemond tilting his head backwards, so the water didn’t enter his eyes. “I thought the worst.”

“I apologize, my mother send me to resolve a few problems my brother has caused.” He close his eye at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp. “You could come with me if it bothers you.” He muttered contently. “You could ride Vhagar with me.”

You chuckled. “Your mother will have my head if you allow me to accompany you to these quests.”

“Ah, so my mother is the one who forbid you to meet Vhagar?”

“I did not say that.” Your fingers tugged his hair a little bit making him chuckle. “There are other factor that intervene in riding your dragon.”

Aemond open his eye, stopping your hands. “And which are those factors, my wife? Perhaps I can help to dissolve them.”

“Well, there’s the possibility of your dragon eating me.” Aemond smirked. “There’s also the possibility of me falling to my death.”

“I see, Vhagar won’t damage you as he would see your connection to me and be assured that I will always catch you.” Aemond smiled, his hand caressing your cheek. He leaned towards you, his breath brushing your lips, making you shiver. “Do not listen to my mother, you marry me, not her.”

You tried to hide your smile. “Are you wooing me with your words?”

“Am I?” He returned your smile, his hand trying to make you go closer to him.

“I’m already your wife, there’s no need to woo me.” You whispered against his lips. He moved his hands around your body, carefully raising your wet night dress, you raised your arms and let him took it away from your body.

“I believe you are in the wrong, my little wildflower.” He said. “I think there’s every need for it.”

Aemond closed the distance as his need to feel your mouth against his overpowered his senses. He needed to feel it, need to mark it as his own. Days apart you had said earlier, he felt them as well.

Your cheeks blushed at his forwardness, he felt you submit at his actions. He loved how sensitive you were, how responsive to the smallest actions. His hands gripped your hips and force you to close the nonexistence distance between the both of you. If he could make you cum by simply kissing you, he would spend hours and hours doing so.

Your hands reach for his eye patch. Aemond stop abruptly.

“Then let me woo you as well. Allow me to do it.”

“Why bother at all?” he asked you. “I’m yours.”

“Let me love you.” You kiss his cheek, Aemond closed his eyes at the feeling. “Let me cherish you.” Kiss. “Let me possess you.”

“Possess me?” He allow you to slip off his eye patch. You softly kiss his scar. The beautiful sapphire showing itself.  “Do you want to possess me?”

“Yes.” Your nose bopped his. “I do it in front of the king’s eyes, I do it legally.” You softly said. “But I don’t know if you truly are mine.”

“I’m yours.” He said again. “I’m yours the same way you are mine.”

His hands slid down your back, his eye open and he groaned when your hand wrapped around his cock, slowly sliding it up and down the shaft. “Ride me, my beautiful wife. Ride me until I fill you with my seed. Show me the way you want to own me.”

Your hands went to his shoulders, gripping them tightly, your nails digging at the skin. You slowly sank down his cock, soft panting breaths escaped you as he slid as far as he could.

Aemond was in heaven hearing the beautiful sounds you made as you began to ride him, you went slow and he didn’t want to take charge, not yet as he wanted to do it slowly, do it with care, with reverence, he wanted you to feel he was willing to submit to you. But Gods, you were tight, so fucking tight and it was impossible to stay still. He began moving with you, forcing himself to take his time with each thrust. He put your hands around his neck before hugging your figure. His eye opened, wanting to see your expressions.

“(Y/N),” He whispered. Your eyes opened at the sound of your name, he never used it. “That’s it, feel me. Feel how hard I am for you, only you.” He kissed you quickly. “Fuck.”

Your hands slide into his hair, beautiful strands of silver across your fingers. With a growl, you clash your mouth with his. The way he tasted was something else, it was strong and masculine, it made you feel hot, wanted, needed.

“Aemond.” You breathed against his lips. “Please.” You lifted your hips, trying to take him deeper. “Please, my love, please.”

“Tell me.” He grunted. “Tell me what you want, wildflower. Tell me, I will give it to you. Only to you.”

“Faster.” You moaned and his control finally snaped. He grasped your legs tightly and stood up. The water moving wildly at his actions, completely wetting the floor. He step aside of the bathtub carefully and made his way towards his room. “Aemond!” You gasped as he moved both of you naked. “Someone will see.”

“I’ll kill them if they see you.” He grunted. “I will show them no mercy.”

You moaned.

He walked rapidly to the bed, carefully placing you on it, not caring if you were wetting it. He grasped your legs and put them around his hips, entering you quickly. Both of you moaned. He stood still, savoring the how wet and hot your cunt was around his cock. He kissed you and began pounding into you with so much force.

“Yes.” You moaned. “Yes, yes…please…please Aemond, please.”

“Take it, I’m yours.” Your slick walls contracted around him at his words. You arched, pressing your breast into his chest. Your tights clenching hard around his hips as you came. Aemond sloppily kiss you, biting your lip. “Another, give me another.” He demanded.

“Faster…harder.” You reached back and buried your fist on his hair, clinging to him, forcing him to kiss you.

“That’s it, take me.” His thrust became harder, his expression intense and wild. Your hips met every thrust he gave you. Your soft cries fueled the insanity he was feeling. “You won’t ever doubt me, you are mine. I’m yours. That’s how it was meant to be.”

“Aemond, please.” You cried against his lips.

Pleasure washed over him. An addicting euphoria took over his body. He wouldn’t last as your cunt was tightening again against his cock. “I will show you. I will show you.”

He gasped. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His head burying into your neck. His breaths were harsh as he pound even harder. “So perfectly mine. Only mine.” You held him tight against your body as he began cumming. You felt it fill you completely. Gods, how you love that feeling. “Mine. Mine. Mine.” He repeated as his hips slowly began pausing his thrust. “Mine.”

“Yours.” You answered against his temple. “And you are mine.”

He stayed there for a few seconds, savoring the feeling of your body against him. With a grunt he rolled off you before tucking your body at his side. His legs intertwining with yours. His hands slowly caressing your side.

You closed your eyes. “I mean what I said.” Aemond kissed your forehead. His hand brushing away your sweaty hair. “You are mine and I am yours. There’s no changing in that.” A smile broke against your face, your eyes slowly opening. He smiled softly at you. “Erase your fears from that beautiful head of yours, there’s nothing to fear when I’m at your side.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, sleep. I have tired you enough already.”

“You will be here when I wake up?”

“I will not leave your side, my beautiful wife.”

Do you love me?

Synopsis: After a fight with his mother, she tells him you don't love him. So, Aegon does what he does best and invades your existence entirely.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Wife (you) Warnings: SMUT LEGIT JUST SMUT, oral, penetration, kissing, aegon being pathetic. Word count: 1855 Note: As I said, smut to celebrate 200 followers!!! Forgive me if this is not my best work. I wrote it during the 2 hours I have before my job. (Literally posting this as I'm in the car on my way there) Sill I hope you enjoy the depravity my brain created.

You, peacefully, were writing letters to your family you had left at home to come to King’s Landing. It smelled like shit, the red keep was suffocating, and your husband… Well, he was alright at times. 

Today wasn’t one of the days he was alright. You were preparing to give the maester your carefully written messages when the door burst open and a very disheveled Aegon ran in. It took only a moment to notice the streaks of tears that stained his cherub-like cheeks. A strawberry red bruise painted the right side of his face… 

“It happened again?” you spoke softly, a slight shiver sent down your spine when he looked at you. Aegon wore the face of a desperate, pathetic and piteous boy who lacked affection from his own kin. It nearly made your heart wrench, but you’d grown accustomed to his displays. 

He would do something wrong, sometimes almost unforgivable and his mother would act in the only way she knew how. It was a never-ending cycle, he behaved inappropriately, Alicent found out and hit him, and he came running to you to ease his suffering. 

He rushed forward, grasping you by your shoulders and squeezing them tightly. His large blue eyes pleading with yours for some comfort, a silent request to ease his suffering. “Do you love me?” Aegon’s voice was shaky and hoarse from crying or yelling, only the gods knew at this point. 

When you didn’t answer fast enough, he shook you, the frown on his face deepening. “W-wife, do you love me?” You let out a deep sigh knowing what came next. You cupped his face gently and wiped the tears away with the tips of your fingers. “Of course… I love you with all my heart.” 

His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. Aegon’s black pupils dilated and filled the vast ocean of blue around them. His hand moved to softly caress your face, pushing the loose hairs out of his way. He dragged his thumb to your bottom lip gently tugging at it. Aegon leaned in so his breath warmed your skin and his lips hovered above yours. His eyes were half lidded and lips swollen from biting them, “prove it.” 

He whispered into you, and you let out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You slowly shrunk down onto your knees, taking your time to unfasten the buttons that lined his trousers. You should be used to it by now, the image of his cock springing out his pants that is. Yet somehow the size never ceased to surprise you. 

To be blunt you didn’t enjoy being on your knees or giving him head. In fact, you dreaded it. However, he never failed to reward you in earnest. His constant need to prove himself worthy of something gave you something to look forward to. So, you did not hesitate to wrap your mouth around him and swirl your tongue around his tip. Your small hands that barely fit around him rubbed his length. 

Aegon moaned as your soft warm tongue glided over his shaft. He always was the noisiest man you had ever met. The sound of his pleasurable cries escaping his throat made your body fill with confidence. With each moan, his hips bucked against your face. He grabbed fistfuls of your hair pulling you closer until your nose pressed firmly against the base of his member.

You gagged at the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Delicate tears began to fall from your irises, but you managed to hold on long enough to take his full length between your lips and bob back and forth. 

“Look at me. You’re so pretty sucking my cock, wife.” The sight of you on your knees, covered in spit and drool, while you sucked his cock turned him into an animal. “Ah- I love you.” He stuttered out between whimpers.

His words always made you melt into him, they fueled a wildfire of desire inside you that only he could tame. The taste of him flooded your senses and you swallowed every drop of his precum without hesitation. You felt his cock begin to throb and his balls tighten. The amount of seed leaking into your throat steadily increasing. 

Not yet, Aegon pulled you off quickly, your mouth let go of him with a pop.  He dropped to his own knees pushing his lips into yours with a bruising force, never letting go of your hair or speaking a word. His tongue slipped into your mouth and made circles with your own. His hands moved to grope every part of your body leaving marks where they gripped. 

A soft moan left your lips when he moved to unlace the dress you were wearing. He was skilled at that making quick work of taking off your clothes while his mouth never left yours. His strong hands pushed aside your panties exposing your wetness. The cold air sending goosebumps up your body. 

Aegon pulled your legs out from underneath you seating them over his shoulders. You hadn’t realized the ache between your legs until his lips were making its way towards it. Aegon trailed wet kissed his way up your thigh and bit down hard on your inner thigh causing you to yelp.

His lips curled into a devilish smile. “Aegon please,” you whimpered underneath him. Of course, he would never say no but the sound of you begging made his cock flutter. He smirked before kissing his way back to your entrance. When his tongue slid across your clit you cried out. He teased you relentlessly, alternating licking and sucking your sensitive bud.

Your hips rose off the ground as you tried to get more friction on your needy pussy. He pulled back to place kisses and marks everywhere you didn’t need him. His hands roamed freely touching every inch of your body. Every touch sent electric shocks through you. Each kiss set your nerves ablaze. 

After a few minutes of this torture, you began pleading with him to finish what he started. “Please husband, please.” Aegon’s face moved to hover over your cunt. His nose softly brushing over your sensitive clit, “Say you love me.” 

Aegon dipped a finger into your cunt, purposely pushing on that spongy spot inside you. His lips swallowed your clit, and his tongue roughly ran circles around it.  “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love AH-” 

The feeling of his index rubbing your G-spot caused your walls to contract around his digits. Your back arched off the floor as the pleasure washed over you. A scream escaped your lips, you came undone flooding his hand with your juices. His grip tightened as he buried his face further into you. 

You tried to squirm away, the stimulation becoming too much for you to bear. You couldn't stop shaking as your orgasm overtook you. All you wanted right now was to feel his thick cock inside you. "Husband," you sobbed uncontrollably.

Aegon pulled back, proudly gazing at the mess he created. He pulled his fingers to his lips sucking on the juices you left, “you always taste so sweet for me.” He leant down and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle yet desperate kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue flooding your mouth… He wasn’t necessarily wrong you did taste sweet. 

"Aegon,” you mewled under your breath. “Wife,” he hushed you with a deep breath as he moved to turn you onto your side. Aegon didn’t treat you how you expected. He never fucked you like a whore, he preferred to cuddle while he rammed his cock inside you. He liked being able to watch you whilst he played with your breast and the feeling of the heat from your back warming his chest. 

He placed one arm behind you pulling you tight against his bare chest. He positioned himself behind you looking down into your eyes, he gently lowered his head and claimed your lips with his own. Your tongues tangled together, his cock resting just below your slit. He rubbed himself against you, collecting all the wetness onto his cock before he prodded at your entrance.

"Fuck!" You gasped as he pushed himself into you. The thickness of his cock filled you completely, stretching out your cunt no matter how many times it had been there. His thumb moved to your clit and he began rubbing it gently, sending waves of tingles throughout your entire body.

Aegon moved his free hand to cup your breast as his pace increased slowly building up speed. You could hear his grunts filling the room, the sensation of you clenching around him overwhelming him. His thrusts became harder, his grunts turning into soft moans invading your ears. You choked out praises, “you feel so good h-husband.” 

He moved his hand to rub your clit faster.  An intense pressure building within you with every movement. His breathing grew heavy as his cock continuously hit your cervix, your cunt trying to squeeze out his seed. “Aeg- please I need you,” you whimpered desperately. Aegon dropped his head into the crook of your neck and sucked on your bare skin.

"Mmhmm." He groaned into your ear, his hips moving quicker, your hips bucking to meet his. Your cries turned into screams as he pounded into you, “fuck fuck fuck,” you panted beneath him. His fingers swirled around your clit, the coil in your stomach threatening to break any moment. “P-please cum in me,” you whined pathetically. 

His pace quickened, the muscles in his arms bulging with each pump. The sounds of him railing into your wetness echoed throughout the room. Aegon began singing barely audible praises into your ear. As he neared his climax he growled, his voice rising above the noise of your bodies colliding.

You clenched around his length, the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy taking over. Your body began to shake as your second climax washed over you more intense than before. “Gods,” he cried out. You felt his cock pulsating inside you, his hot seed spilling forth and coating your womb. He shoved his lips into yours, muffling the cry that escaped your lips as you reached your finish. 

His movements slowed, the sting of him stretching you out beginning to take over the pleasure. You winced as he pulled himself out from deep within you. You laid limp beside him panting heavily, his hands roaming freely over your naked form. You looked up into his eyes that still held the sadness of a beggar boy. “Do you love me?” 

You moved forward with the rest of your strength, cupping his cheeks gently. You peppered kisses on his face forcing a smile to escape his lips. “Stop it,” he nudged your head back with his own. Behind the obvious sadness it was clear to see he was holding back amusement. Your expression changed, the mood growing serious by the second. You leaned back staring deeply into his sea-like eyes with nothing but adoration. “Yes, I love you very much.”

Chase

And here is a second birthday gift for my bestie @hamatoanne​​​ 😏😏😈😁 Happy birthday babe, I hope you will enjoy this dark filthy fic 😏😏😈💕 I love you 😘😘

Paring: Aemond x fem!reader Word count: 5, 200 Warnings: dirty talk, kidnapping, chasing, dagger play, blood play, choking, oral sex (female receiving), non-con, dub-con

You woke up shivering and with a pouncing headache. You slowly opened your eyes and noticed that you were definitely not inside your chambers. You quickly opened your eyes and groaned when you felt the sharp pain in your head. What the hell is going on? You didn’t get drunk last night. The last think you remembered was a calm evening with your husband, dinner with his annoying family and then you peacefully fell asleep in his arms. You slowly sat up and waited until the world stopped spinning around you. You hesitantly opened your eyes again and looked around you. You were in the dungeon that was for sure. Did someone drugged you and kidnap you right under your husband’s nose? It sounded impossible. Of course he had many enemies, he was an important man, but he would have never let anyone take you away from him, at least not without a fight. Oh no, did anything happened to him? You shivered in fear.  “Look, Berryck, sleeping beauty is finally awake,” someone chuckled mockingly and you realized that you were not alone. You turned your head to the left and spotted two men sitting in the cells next to yours. “Where am I?” you asked them, your voice raspy and weak. “You are in the dungeons under the Red Keep,” one of them said and looked at you like if you were stupid. “I am still in King’s Landing?” you asked and felt relieved that you were not far away from your home.  “I wouldn’t sound so happy, little one,” the other man chuckled cruelly. “You were captured by Prince Aemond Targaryen. And if you are from here, you know what kind of sick, dangerous games he likes to play with his prisoners. Especially with female prisoners,” he added and you shivered, this time with pure terror. Of course you heard a lot of stories about the young Prince. Half of them weren’t truth you were more that sure about it, but some of them had to be truth and he was terrifying. Everything about King’s younger brother was making your blood running cold in your veins. He lost his eye when he was a small boy, one of his own nephews maimed him like that. Most people would fall into misery and self pity and depression, but it seemed that the lost of his eye made the young Prince more determined to become the best fighter in the seven kingdoms. He trained with the sword every day and bacame the fiercest swordsman in the Kingdom. Men were trembling at the mentioning of his name and women trembled with desire to catch Prince's eye. But they didn't know about his dark desires. He liked kidnapping women and playing dangerous games with them, he liked to make them his prey and chase them through the castle, fucking them in the various chambers and halls.  You closed your eyes to try to collect your own thoughts and try to find out a way out of this mess. You hoped that your husband would try to save you, but now when you knew that it’s Prince Aemond who imprisoned you, you lost hope. Your husband couldn’t win a fight against the Prince. You need to get out of here on your own. You looked around yourself desperately, but you were sitting in a very simple prison cell, there was only an uncomfortable bed and bucket in the corner, nothing more. Suddenly you heard someone coming to you. You feared that it will be Prince Aemond, but it was only some male servant. He tossed you a piece of bread and cheese and a water skin and left without a word. “Look at it, Berryck. They gave her something to eat and drink, I guess the Prince wants her well fed and hydrated for his wicked plans for her,” the man in the next cell said and you gulped uncomfortably. “You are right, Meylos. He needs her strong, so he can fuck her all night. I heard that he is into some really dark kinky shit... his servants get rid of the bodies in the morning,” the other one added and you really hoped that they are just trying to mess with your head. You spent rest of the day trying to figure out how to get out of this situation or how to inform your husband that you are down here, but you couldn’t think about anything that would help you. In the evening the same male servant came to you and this time he didn’t serve you food but he brought you a green dress. “Prince Aemond demands you wear this dress,” he said without any emotion in his voice. “I don’t care what he wants, I won’t wear it,” you said stubbornly and the man looked at you with tired expression. “If you won’t put on this dress yourself, I have permission to let those two out of their cells and help you to get dressed,” he threatened you with calm voice. “Listen, my husband has money and power, just send him a word that I am here and you will be rewarded, he will rescue you from this terrible duty,” you tried to bribe him, but he kept his face neutral. “You have to get dressed. So, will you do it alone, or do you need some help?” he insisted and you sighed desperately. “All right. I will do it myself,” you replied and you could hear Berryck and Meylos grunt in disappointment.  “Can you please turn around?” you asked him and he raised his eyebrow. “Please, at least let me have some privacy,” you begged him and he hesitated. “Please, I beg you,” you tried again and looked at him in desperation. “Ok, but be quick, my Prince Aemond hates when he is left to wait,” he turned around and you quickly grabbed the still empty bucket and hit him across the back of his head. He let out a soft “huh” and fell on the ground unconscious. You quickly stepped over him and raced to the door. “Hey, beautiful! What about us? Let us out, we can help you escape!” Berryck shouted. “How stupid do you think I am?” you laughed. “You two would kill me or try to sell me to my husband. You can rot here and keep telling each other horror stories about the One-eyed Prince,” you showed them your middle finger and continued running towards the entrance, completely ignoring them shouting obscenities at you. You quickly found your way out of the dungeons, carefully looking around yourself, if anyone is following you or not. For a second you thought that someone is hiding behind the statue of a dragon, but it was only a shadow casted by the flaming torches. You quietly walked through the crowded streets and slipped out of the gates into the dark woods. They won’t look for you here. They would think that noble lady like you would never ran into the scary, dangerous woods. You slowed down after few minutes. You made sure that no one is following you and if you keep running you will soon exhaust yourself and you will probably start going in circles. You tried to remember what your husband taught you about how to keep a direction in the woods but you couldn’t remember any of his advices. You didn’t listen to him carefully, thinking that you would never need such information. You decided to choose a direction and keep walking that way. You walked for few moments when you felt the small hair on your neck rose. You felt someone’s presence behind you. It’s only my imagination playing tricks on me, you tried to convince yourself. But the feeling was stronger with every step you took. You stopped walking and listened carefully to your surroundings. You heard the natural sounds of the forest, you could hear the leaves whispering in the tree crowns, you heard owl hooting on the branches, somewhere in the distance a wolf started howling, but other than that there was silence. You relaxed and started walking again, when you sensed it again that creeping feeling that you have been watched. You looked around you, trying to see better in the dark. Is there someone standing next to that giant oak tree over there? It looked a little like a male figure, but your eyes could play tricks on you. You started walking in the opposite direction and nothing happened, your hesitant steps slowly turned into light jog and after that you started running. You just knew that there was someone watching your every move, waiting for you to drop your defenses and attack you. You were running more quickly than you have ever ran in your life. You were tripping over roots and branches on the ground, by some miracle you didn’t fall down on the ground and got impaled by a branch. You could hear the long strides behind you, someone was definitely chasing you. You started running faster but you knew that you can’t run like this for a long time, you weren’t trained for this. The muscles of your legs were already burning and you were breathing heavily. You could hear your pursuer getting closer. You quickly hid behind a huge tree, trying to catch your breath and stay as quiet as possible. There was silence again, but you knew that somewhere close behind you is lurking a dangerous predator. “Who would have said that you can run this fast, little bunny,” a smooth voice said very close to you, much closer than you expected. His voice was cultivated and he was barely out of breath, he was obviously better trained than you were. “Are you already exhausted? I expected this chase to be little bit longer and more challenging,” he mocked you and you felt your heart beating fast. You peaked out from behind the tree trunk and you finally spotted your pursuer. He was dressed in black leathers, his long sword strapped to his hip, his long silver blonde hair shinning in the moon light and his signature eye patch covering his eye. You were hunted by the dark Prince Aemond Targaryen himself and you knew that you are doomed because this man was wicked and merciless. “Come on little bunny, I know that you have more energy in that pretty body of yours,” he continued mocking you. You had two chances, you could surrender and hope that your death will be quick and painless, which you doubted or you could try to escape him and keep running through the woods. Your whole life you have been a fighter so you decided to keep fighting for your life. You took few light steps, staying hidden behind the tree for few seconds. “I can see you, little bunny,” he smirked and your eyes met for few seconds. There was no mercy or kindness in them, just a darkness and thrill from a hunt. You started running again, trying to escape your killer. You heard him laughing behind you. It was terrifying, his laughter was almost genuine but there was a hint of darkness and madness in it. He gave you few moments to give you the illusion that you have a chance to escape him. But when he stopped laughing like a maniac you knew that he started chasing you again. You kept running without looking back and he was silent that you didn’t hear his approaching steps. You thought that maybe you were lucky and you outrun him but than a strong hand wrapped around your ankle, you fell on your stomach on the roots and dirt on the ground and a hard body flattened yours to the surface, crushing you with his weight. “Got you,” he growled and flipped you over. You started fighting against him. You were kicking and screaming, trying to push him off your body. You fists were hitting his chest violently but you might as well be hitting a wall. “Did you get lost, little bunny?” he teased you, smiling cruelly at you. “Get off me, my husband will kill you for treating me like this,” you shouted, still desperately trying to get out from his grasp, you tried to wiggle, to set yourself free but it was impossible. He was gripping you with utter ease while you were using all your strength against him. “I would like to see him try,” he chuckled darkly. You tried to attack him with your fists but he easily caught your hands and pinned them above your head with one of his strong arms. “Did you really think that you could escape me so easily? I thought that you are smarter than this,” he said, his voice smooth like a velvet. “Did you really think that my servant would be so stupid to turn his back to you and let you escape like this?” he tsked, his tone disappointing. “You did it on purpose?” you asked him, your voice slightly trembling. “Yes, bunny. I love chasing my prey,” he ran one of his long, delicate fingers over your heated cheek. “You look so much prettier when you are scared, the terror in your eyes is very arousing,” he continued and you felt disgusted by him, so you did the only thing you could in this position and spit on him. You wanted to hit his good eye, but he turned his head, so your saliva was now running down his pale cheek. You noticed the flash of anger in his eye before he wrapped his long fingers around your throat and pulled you closer to him, so now you were face to face. You looked deep into his violet eyes and wondered how someone so cruel and wicked can be so beautiful.  “You are a wild little thing, aren’t you? But don’t worry, I will tame you soon enough,” he promised and pressed his thumb over your pulse point, making it difficult for you to breath. “Lick it from my face,” he commanded and you frowned in confusion. “You spat on me, so now you will lick my face clean,” he repeated, his eye never leaving yours. “No,” you struggled against his grip, but the lack of oxygen made you weak. “You need to learn a lesson, little bunny. "No" is not a word I want to hear from your pretty lips. Lick it off,” he growled and his grip on your throat tightened, you had no other choice than to obey him if you didn’t want him to choke you to death. You hesitantly licked your spit from his cheek, tasting his skin on your tongue, you could swear you tasted fire and sulfur on it, but maybe it was just your imagination since you knew that he is riding a dragon every day. “Good girl, it wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” he purred and you couldn’t help yourself but his praise made you shiver, and this time it wasn’t with fear. He watched you closely, drinking your every reaction to him, so of course he noticed the sudden change in your behavior. “What is it, bunny? You like to be called a good girl?” he asked and you squirmed uncomfortably under him.  “But you don’t deserve to be called a good girl, bunny. You have been very, very bad girl... running away from me like this,” he finally let go of your throat and you took a deep breath. He reached towards his waist and pulled out his silver dagger with Targaryen crest on the hilt. He twirled it in his skilled fingers and you tried to ignore the rush of excitement you felt at the movement. But this man was very observing and of course he noticed your flushed cheeks. “Oh, little bunny, I think you will be my favorite fuck toy,” he groaned darkly and your eyes followed the dagger in his hand with caution. “Please, just kill me, don’t dishonor me like this,” you begged him with shameful tears in your eyes. “Kill you? That’s a possibility, yes. But you are my new toy, pet. And I take a good care about my pets,” he smirked darkly. You felt the tip of his dagger at the top of your dress. The thought that the sharp blade could nip at your skin kept you still as he slashed your dress in half and it fell off your body. Your exposed nipples were hard in the cold night. You gasped in shock and he took the opportunity of your distraction and kissed you. Hard. He didn’t give you any space or time for escaping his demanding kiss. You fought against him, you refused to open your lips for him, but he bit your bottom lip hard, you felt the coppery taste of your own blood on your tongue and you gasped in pain, he slipped his tongue into your mouth and at the same time you felt the tip of his dagger making circles around your areola. You felt a zap of pleasure at that action and you immediately felt a rush of shame. You body should not react like this to such an assault. You could taste your own blood on his lips and it shouldn’t be so erotic, but it made your heart beat faster. He smirked against your lips, reading your body like a book. He pressed the tip of his dagger against your nipple and cut it lightly. It didn’t really hurt, it was just a little sting, but your body totally betrayed you and you moaned into the kiss. He deepened the kiss and this time you didn’t fight him, but you kissed him back with a lot of anger and frustration. The kiss became hungry and possessive. You felt like if he will never let you breathe again. When he finally pulled away from your swollen lips you were both panting.  “Your are kinky little bunny, aren’t you, love?” he licked your blood from his lips and dragged the dagger down the valley between your breasts, lower to your belly button and with one powerful move tore through your panties. You let out a shriek that sounded dangerously like a whimper, you were soaked and you didn’t know how it happened. He slid the blunt side of the dagger against your wet pussy. He lifted it under the moonlight and you watched as it glistened with your arousal. “You are so wet for me, bunny. And we barely started. Tell me, little one, does your husband satisfy you at all?” he mocked you and wanted to smack him for such an insult. “How dare you, my husband is very skilled in bedroom, he make me scream his name every night, you sick bastard,” you shouted at him and you noticed something flinch in his eye at the word >>bastard<<. “It might be the true, but you still want this bastard, to fuck your wet pussy, little bunny,” he said darkly and you watched in fascination as he licked your arousal from the blade. “You taste so sweet for such a wild thing, little bunny,” he groaned and you felt your pussy throb at the sight. He twirled the dagger again and placed it against the soft skin of your belly. “I will let go of your hands now, bunny. But try to escape or hit me and will stab you with it, do you understand me?” he asked you firmly and you nodded. You didn’t give up yet, but right now you had no other chance than to obey him. He let go of your hands and lowered himself between your legs. “Spread them for me, show me how wet this pussy truly is,” he demanded but you refused to do it. He nudged your side with the dagger, cutting your skin slightly. “I won’t ask you twice, bunny!” he warned you and you reluctantly parted your legs, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. “Hmm, you can keep struggling against me all you want, but your cunt speaks differently,” he looked at you from between your legs, his eye almost dark with desire. He kept looking into your eyes, as he licked your wet slit, his long nose nudged your clit. You wanted to resist, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but it felt too good. He knew what he was doing with his skillful tongue. “S-s-s-stop!” you moaned when he slid two of his long fingers inside you and at the same time his mouth attacked your clit. “Don’t lie to yourself, bunny. You don’t want me to stop,” he said between flicking your clit with his tongue. “You don’t want me to stop, you want to cum on my tongue, filthy little bunny,” he chuckled and dragged his teeth over your abused clit. You moaned again, your body no longer listening to your foggy brain. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that made your knees go weak. “Come on, give it to me. Don’t be shy. You are so close, little one,” he taunted you and you fought against your own body but  the look in his eye and the constant pressure against your g-spot got you closer and closer to your orgasm. He didn’t break the eye contact as his sinful lips sucked your clit into his mouth again and this time you couldn’t hold it and you came on his tongue, trembling and breathing deeply. He lapped all of your juices and licked your pussy clean, you tried to escape his tongue, your sensitive pussy protesting against the continuous assault but he kept you still with his strong hand. “See, bunny, you can be a little girl when you want,” he smirked and you noticed that the dagger was no longer pressed to your side. You quickly kicked him off your body and started running again, naked and tired but you fought for your life. But he quickly caught you, he slammed you against the tree trunk, the remains of your dress protecting your back, but you could still feel the harsh bark digging into your skin. “Bad bunny, don’t run away from me,” he pressed you harder against the trunk, his fingers wrraped around your throat. “I am not done with you, little one,” he smiled cruelly. “Fuck you,” you shouted at him, wiggling, trying to get out of his grasp. He picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist and slammed you back against the tree. He pinned your hands above your head. “Oh, you will, bunny. Soon enough,” he captured your lips in another aggressive kiss. His free hand roamed your body, pinching your nipples harshly. You whimpered into the kiss and he smiled in triumph. “I can see, your husband might love you, but he can’t satisfy your dark tendencies, you were not made for gentle love making. You just want someone to chase you in the woods and fuck you hard against the tree,” he murmured into your ear while he pinched your nipple harder, earning even louder whimpers from your lips. “That’s not a true, you monster!!” you shouted and his hand found your clit again and he slapped it harshly. You didn’t recognize the sound that left your lips after that.   “Good bunnies don’t lie, Y/N,” he said angrily and you were so ashamed of yourself. You were in very dangerous situation, he will probably fuck you and then kill you, but you felt more aroused than ever before. Since the moment he twirled that dagger in his fingers you pussy was throbbing with need. Aemond was pure darkness that was calling to your deepest and most hidden urges and needs.   “Your pussy is soaked for me, bunny. Don’t try to pretend that you don’t like this,” he whispered darkly into your ear, biting your earlobe. “No, I don’t want this,” you said but your protests were weak. He started suckling at your neck and collar bones, leaving dark purple bruises behind him, if you will survive this your body will be full of his marks. He bit down on your neck and you let out a choked whimper, he licking the spot with his tongue, soothing the pain a little. He pushed you higher on the tree, so your breasts were right in front of his face. His long arms were still able to hold your hands pinned above your head. “Admit it, bunny. You like this,” he demanded and pulled out his dagger again. You watched his hand with mixture of fear and arousal. “Aemond, please,” you begged him not knowing what are you begging him for exactly at this point. Did you want him to let you go and never chase you again or if you begged him to continue and give you what your dark soul wanted. “What do you want, bunny?” he placed the dagger on the soft skin of your breast right above your nipple. “Stop fighting me, I will make you feel things you have never felt before,” he promised and cut your skin lightly. It wasn’t a deep cut, but you felt few drops of blood running down from the wound. Aemond watched your expression closely and smirked in satisfaction, when he saw the desire in your eyes. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, tasting your blood and you moaned loudly at the sight. You would never admit to your husband that you have a knife kink, that you always wanted to try something like this, most ladies at the court would think that you are a freak for having a fantasy like this. And this blonde haired demon read you like an opened book and gave you what you wanted. He bit your hard nipple and you screamed, your voice echoing through the woods. “That’s it bunny, scream for me, don’t hold back,” he encouraged you and moved to your other breast. He teased your hard peak for few moments and you groaned with impatience. “Already needy for me, look at you, bunny. How easily you turned into my little slut,” he mocked you and your protests were silenced by another possessive kiss. You kissed him back fiercely, your brain too foggy to think straight. He let go of your hands and they went around his strong shoulders and into his silver hair. He unlaced his breeches and you heard the soft thud when it hit the ground. He kept kissing you, his tongue dancing with yours in furious tango, he was almost suffocating you, he lifted your lips and entered you in one swift thrust. He groaned into the kiss and you bit his lip again, feeling overwhelmed by the way how his thick cock stretched your pussy. “Fuck bunny, you are so fucking tight and wet for me,” he grunted and started thrusting into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. He was big, too big, it was painful but you liked the pain, it was soon mixed with the wave after wave of pleasure. You wrapped your legs more tightly around him, pulling him even closer to you, he pushed you little bit higher and the new angle allowed him to go even deeper into you. He rut into you grinding as if he needed to get deeper, as deep inside you as he could to stake his claim and never leave. His hand went around your throat, cutting out your air supplies. “You are fucking mine now, little bunny! You belong to me!” he announced and you wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him, that you belong to your husband, but you weren’t able to form a coherent words, he saw it on your face and smirked darkly, laughing like he laughed when he chased you through the woods, like an evil maniac who enjoys to ruin you like this. And you shouldn’t feel attracted to it, but Gods damn you, that laughter made you even more horny. “Fuck, your cunt is squeezing me so tightly, are you close, little one?” he growled and you cried out as the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot. The young dragon knew that he hit the right spot, he groaned breathily as he increased his speed, deliberately angling his strokes to abuse the spot. You loud screames filled the cold night air. “Will you be a good little bunny and cum on my cock, Y/N?” he asked you and kept hitting the spot inside you that made your brain mushy. “Yes, I, please!! Don’t stop,” you begged him, completely lost at this point. All you wanted was to cum with him deep inside you. Your vision blurred as Aemond's grip on your neck tightened, strained moans somehow escaping your throat even from the strong grip he had. You could hear the lewd squelching noises from Aemond's pounding as well as his breathy grunts and moans. Your moans started getting louder and more strained as you could feel your orgasm coming up. “So cum for me, bunny, squeeze my cock so I will cum hard inside your tight cunt, filling you up with my baby,” he grunted into your ear and you exploded around him, screaming his name loudly, crying tears of shame and overwhelming pleasure. Your velvet walls squeezed his cock tightly and his orgasm hit him hard, he bucked into you so hard that the bark bit painfully into your back and he bit down on your shoulder leaving a neat row of teeth marks. He cum deep inside you, filling you up with his warm seed. You were both panting heavily, looking at each other in the silence of the night. He gently placed you back on the ground and captured your lips in deep, loving kiss. “Are you happy, satisfied?” he asked you and you smiled at him stupidly. “That was amazing, Aemond, thank you,” you hugged him and he chuckled. “Anything for you, my dear wife,” he pulled out of you, his cum dripping out of you on the ground. “Tell me all of your dark fantasies and will make them come true,” he promised and you shivered at all the possibilities. “My mind is a dark place, Aemond,” you warned him. “You married a dragon Prince, my love. You can’t scare me,” he smirked at you. “Let’s go home, my love. I don’t want you to get sick because of running naked in the woods, even though I like the view,” he smiled warmly at you and gently pushed you back towards the castle. “I am sorry that I called you bastard, and spit into your eye, I got too much into the role,” you stopped him and looked at him sincerely. “That’s OK, my love. I am sorry for cutting you,” he stroked the small cut on your chest and you shivered with need. “Don’t worry about that, I loved it,” you winked at him and he groaned. “OK, bunny. Let’s go home before I will have my way with you again here,” he swept you off your feet and carried you back in his strong arms. “But it will be my fantasy that we will role play next time, my dear wife,” he promised you darkly and you shivered with anticipation. You loved Aemond Targaryen with all of your heart and you couldn’t wait to hear about all of his fantasies and wishes.  

The Queen's Bride (Part 1)

Summary :

Being a rich man's kid isn't as exciting as everyone makes it out to be.

You have no freedom.

Every choice has been made for you ever since you were born.

What you eat. What course you were going to study. What school you're going to.

Even the one you were going to marry.

So to your surprise, your father has finally chosen one thing right for you.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Look who's finally watching Game of Thrones. Surprise, surprise, I fell in love with Daenerys.

"This is bullshit!" Jon, your cousin, shouts as he paces around you.

Both of you were just given two names.

Two people you never met that you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

"Who the fuck is Ygritte and why do I have to marry her?" Jon shouts in frustration and you shrug.

"I mean, Father could've paired you with one of the Lannisters. Myrcella is an omega-"

"Shut up." Jon glares at you.

"You have to admit it. Ygritte is pretty as fuck."

"Lucky for Robb, huh? He's the heir so he could choose freely."

"She is. But- I don't know her, Y/N." Jon sighs as he sits next to you.

"Lucky asshole." You slap his arm.

"He's my big brother."

"He is. I wish I could be the heir."

"Seriously? You? Jon Stark of Winterfell Corp? Are you hearing me?"

"Shut up." The two of you look at each other then laugh. "Yours is pretty too, by the way. And a Targaryen too."

"Why them? Our mottos are literally parallels."

"Yeah. Winter is Coming."

"Fire and Blood. Like why her?" You groan at the ceiling.

"Just be glad that she's pretty. Some don't get that lucky."

"Are you talking about-" Jon nods and you sigh.

"I just wish we had freedom."

"Me too. Y/N. Me too."

-

You get your bag and look at the empty apartment around you.

"I need Sansa to room with me. Like gods, this place is fucking big enough for ten people at least." You mumble to yourself as you leave the apartment.

Just like everything else in your life. The apartment was provided by your Father, Ned Stark. You could count the number of times on your fingers that you've actually talked to him rather than just receive orders or scolding from him.

Your phone rings just as you get inside the Westeros University. You answer it as you see your little sister's name.

"Y/N! How are you?" You smile at Arya's voice.

"I'm good, Arry. Where are you?" How is she calling you right now?

"I'm at home. There was a lice problem at school today so we went home! Are you free??" You grin at her exciting tone.

"In two hours, I will be. Why?"

"Can we go play? Mom said she'll let me go to the mall if I'm with you!"

"Sure, can you wait there and behave?"

"Yep! See you later!"

"See you." You say softly and smile as you go to your first and last class of the day. You were so glad that you chose your own schedule. You sit down at your usual seat and hum as you take out your laptop. Looks like professor Varys is late today.

Westeros University is the biggest University in all of Westeros. It has lessons even in magic.

"Did you hear, Y/N?" You look up as Oberyn sits beside you. You were somewhat friends. He can charm anyone in a room while you can outread anyone in a room. Truth be told, even you didn't know why he talked to you.

"Hear what?"

"Not interested in rumors as usual?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Even if Varys tells us otherwise, I still don't like rumors and hearsays." Oberyn nods and grins in satisfaction.

"Which is why you make the perfect audience." You sigh. "Listen to this. Someone is doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Seeing if the dragons will choose them."

"Seriously? That thing hasn't been done in like 200 years."

"Right? But someone is brave enough to do it now. You know what it means, right?"

"Yeah. They get to sit on the Iron Throne regardless of their last name."

"And?" You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"And what?"

"Complete freedom!" You tilt your head at him. "No more choices by parents! No arranged marriages!"

"Damn. Sounds like a dream come true."

"For you guys. I still don't get why you guys won't love freely."

"Because last names have a value of their own. Here at Westeros at least. Oh. And Westeros Conglomerate too." Oberyn shakes his head.

"What you guys should value is talent, not blood."

"Meritocracy rather than blood right. Reasonable." Oberyn looks at you. "I don't make the choices though."

"Marry the king then."

"I'd rather die, Oberyn. I'd rather eat my own shit."

"Still hate men?"

"Only romantically." Oberyn chuckles just as Varys comes through the door.

"You're missing out on like half of the world then." You give him a smile.

"I don't think I am."

-

You hum as you park your car in front of the Stark Mansion. You were just getting your bag when you feel a pair of arms circle around your legs. You look down and see Arya smiling at you.

"Hey, Arya!" You scoop her up and she squeals. Arya is only 9 years younger but you love doing this to her. "Where's Ma and Father?"

"Dad is still at work! Ma is inside!" You put her down and nod.

"Come on, then. I'll tell Ma that I'll take you to the mall." Arya grins at you and she begins to tell you about her classmates and school.

"And then this one guy-"

"Y/N! You're home!" Catelyn Stark rushes over and hugs you. You hug her just as tightly.

"Hey, Ma. Arya wanted to play with me and it's been months since I've been home so I figured I should take her."

"I'm sure she understands that you're busy with university and all."

"I know, Ma! But school is out and she said she was free." Arya pouts from beside you and you smile.

"I am free, no worries." You ruffle Arya's hair and she smiles at you.

"Be sure to be back for Dinner then."

"We'll buy some before we get home. Are Robb and Father-"

"Busy." You nod in understanding then take Arya's hand.

"You ready for an afternoon with me? Your best sister?"

"YEAH! We'll destroy those high scores in the arcade!" You grin and agree.

-

You come home with a passed out Arya, a bag full of plushies, and a bag with food.

"You actually made her sleep? You are a godsend." You laugh at your mom and grin.

"Once you get Arya's quirks and use them against her, she can make herself run out of energy."

"Please don't tell-"

"Ma, she wants to. She can afford to learn it still."

"But her marri-"

"She's still 9, ma. She doesn't need to think about that yet."

"Right. Are you staying for dinner at least?"

"Sure. Is Sansa-" Before you finish your sentence, someone has already hugged you.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" You turn around and find your other little sister, Sansa Stark.

"Well, I had to exhaust this one so." Sansa looks at Arya who was cuddling your neck still.

"Whoa. Arya never sleeps this early."

"Like I said. Exhausted. Are Brandon and Rickon here?"

"Yep! They should be getting back from Winterfell by now."

"What did they do there??"

"Father wanted to show them something. Are you staying tonight?"

"If you're willing to share your bed."

"ALWAYS!" You shush her and smile.

"I'll just be putting this one in her bed then I'll come down. Here." You give the bag full of food to Catelyn and smile. "Some of my favorites."

"I'll plate them up." You nod and begin your walk with Arya still sleeping while cuddling your neck.

"You're becoming heavier, Arya. I wonder if I should do some training just so I can carry you around."

-

"Y/N! You're back!" Brandon says then hugs you.

"Hey, little brother." You kiss his head and smile as he beams at you.

"SIS!" Rickon shouts then tackles you to no avail.

"Heya, baby bro." You pick him up and grin. "Did you grow??"

"I did! I'm defeating Arya soon!" You grin at him.

"Don't let her hear you!" You ruffle his hair then turn to Sansa. "Did you do your homework yet?"

"No? Will you help me later?" She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you groan at her. You admit that you're too weak to your siblings.

"Fine. But no talking about boys. I swear to God if I hear one more thing about-"

"But Ser Loras is just so dreamy." You look at her with a deadpan expression.

"Try me and I will sleep besides Arya." Sansa pouts.

"Fine. No boy talk." She grumbles. "Stingy."

"I'm gay. I'd rather marry another omega as long as she's a woman." Catelyn smiles as she sees you getting along with your siblings.

"Do not plant ideas in their head."

"Ma, Sansa is as straight as a ruler. These two don't even know what their second genders are." Catelyn rolls her eyes at you. "That reminds me, when's your test?" You look at Sansa as you place Rickon at his seat.

"This Monday! I'm so excited to confirm that I'm an Omega!"

"And if you're a beta?" You ask and Catelyn slaps your arm. "What? There's nothing wrong about being a beta! I wanted to be one before."

"You did?" Sansa asks and you nod. "Why?"

"More options." Catelyn hits your head and you laugh.

"Why? Does being an omega lessen your options?"

"Technically, I can't have another omega as my soulmate. Not that it matters."

"Oh yeah, dad said he sent you someone." You roll your eyes at that.

"He sent a file of someone. He wouldn't just let some stranger in my apartment."

"Who is it?? Can we know??" You groan at the excitement in Sansa's voice. There's nothing more that interests her than love talk.

"She's a Targaryen."

"The Dragon Family!" Rickon shouts and you ruffle his hair.

"Yup! Bran, do you know their motto?" Brandon hums as he gets some food.

"Yeah. Fire and Blood, right?"

"Yup! You all will get some ice cream. I brought some earlier." Catelyn glares at you. "What?"

"Cavities."

"I only visit once in a while, Ma. Just this once." Catelyn pinches your cheek. "Ow! Give! Give!"

"Just this once and don't ever do this again without saying anything to me."

"Yes, Ma! I got it! Ow!" Catelyn finally lets you go and you hold your cheek. You pout at her. "You didn't have to pinch that hard."

"You know how I feel about sweets." You sigh.

"I know. Sorry."

-

"Good thing the ice cream didn't give Rickon sugar rush."

"Yeah. It was a relief that Ma didn't pinch me."

"Those two boys really love you and adore you."

"They do." You look at Sansa and pat her hair. "I hope you become a beta, baby girl." Sansa scoffs at you.

"Wha- why!?" You smile sadly at her.

"So then you'll have more freedom." Sansa holds your hand. "Sadly. As an Omega, everything is controlled for you here in Westeros. Specially if you have a last name of a noble."

"Y/N." You squeeze her hand and grin.

"Hopefully, you and Arya get to decide your own futures. And your own partners." Sansa gets teary eyed at that. You let go of her hand then pat her hair again. "Time to get ready for bed. I'll just check on Arya for a second, okay?" Sansa nods at you and you close her door before covering your mouth with your hand.

Freedom. What a grand word. For you, it was thrown out the window when you got your test results.

Everyone says that Omegas have equal standings with Alphas. That the world is getting better.

"What a load of fucking bullshit." You mumble to yourself as you make your way to Arya's room.

You open the door and see that Arya is still fast asleep. You get to her bed and kiss her head.

"I hope you'll have more freedom than me, little one." You tuck her in and leave.

-

PS.

Jon is a Stark here and Catelyn knows he's Lyanna's son but no one knows who his father is. Let's just pretend for a second that he's not a Targaryen.

I actually was going to go the usual route for this aka Alpha Reader but decided against it. Omega Reader just works better for the angst inside my head.

Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [3]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: three

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 3811

Warnings: swearing, smut.

Part one.

Part two.

Daemon rested his back on the wooden chair, his eyes roaming over Y/N's body. Now that they were inside, sitting face to face, he allowed himself to enjoy her. He recognized the silk of her dress. It matched her eyes, just as he had thought it would when he acquired it. But it wasn't her fine dress that had his attention right now.

Her breasts were pushed up by the tight bustier, and he decided that was where he would settle his eyes while she thought of what to say. They had been silent for a few minutes now, only illuminated by the flames of the substantial fireplace next to them. Surprisingly, even he, a man not used to the cold, thought there was no need for such a large fire. The castle was incredibly warm, which he had noticed as soon as they had entered it.

After spending what felt like not enough time embracing each other in the Godswood, Y/N had pulled away, saying the words that needed to be said but neither wished to hear.

"We have important matters to discuss. Follow me."

She had walked a step back then, unfastening his dark cloak and letting it fall to the ground, revealing his black doublet, decorated with small silver chains. He wasn't wearing armor, not even chainmail underneath. He hadn't left his sword behind, though. Dark Sister was always with him.

"You look like you're here to assassinate me in that cloak," she explained, playing with a strand of his hair. Then she took his hand in hers to lead him out of the Godswood, the bright eyes of the direwolves no longer visible in the darkness of the woods.

"Maybe I am," he answered, making her chuckle.

"I would love to see you try," she responded, turning her head to smile at him. She seemed incredibly sure he posed no danger to her considering the message she had sent his brother a few days ago, the fact that he was armed and she wasn't, and also the fact that it was him she was dealing with. It was idiotic and naive, and it didn't matter if he was actually a danger to her or not. Not even he knew the answer to that question.

They had barely walked for a few minutes before Y/N let his hand go and one of the tall grey buildings of the castle became visible. They approached the enormous guarded double doors —those guards hadn't been there when Daemon had sneaked in— when Y/N stopped in her tracks and addressed one of the guards.

"Ser Alanor," she called, the man immediately turning to look at her. She waited a few seconds until Daemon was by her side. "Prince Daemon is our guest. Make sure the men are aware of it."

The man bowed his head.

"As my Queen commands."

Once that was settled —and Daemon leaned into her ear to whisper how the commander of her guard had looked at her too lasciviously, earning himself an eye-roll— they entered the building and walked through what appeared to be the Great Hall, with large tables and dozens of seats. Maids were setting up candles while the smell of cooked meat was in the air. Dinner, approximately 200 people, he counted. Around twenty seats at the high table, the largest made of carved stone. That was Y/N's spot, no doubt. And there was only one reason she was having such large dinners: guests. Bannermen. Boltons, Mormonts, Umbers, Glovers?

While Daemon observed everything carefully, the doors, the windows, the servants, and the watchmen, Y/N paid no mind with her head held high, ignoring the curious looks the servants were sending their way. They had surely been warned about his arrival, yet a Targaryen hadn't been in Winterfell for many years. Here the men and women had dark hair, with the occasional auburn or dark blonde. He had no way of not standing out with his long silver hair and his violet eyes. To these people, he probably looked out of this world, more god than man. Which is exactly what he thought he was.

Just as they were walking by, Y/N caught a young woman's arm.

"Ilana," she said, making her stop and turn around. She started to curtsy and greet them but Y/N interrupted her, raising her palm in the air to shut her up. "Prince Daemon and I will dine privately in my solar tonight, I will call when we are ready. Make sure there is no wine shortage in the Great Hall, and the bards only play joyful songs. Find Lord Karstark and the rest of the members of my small council and inform them Prince Daemon has come in peace and is our guest, with whom I will negotiate tonight."

Y/N made a small pause while Ilana nodded.

"Also, make sure the maids prepare our guest's chambers in the Great Keep. Use plenty of fur for the bed, he's not used to this kind of weather," she said in the end, before continuing on her way.

Considering she called him her guest, Y/N wasn't being very polite, forcing him to act like a lost puppy following her around. If only she would slow her pace...

This reminded him too much of how he used to follow her around in the Red Keep too, trying to keep up with her as she went from her chambers to the library and from the library to the courtyard and then back to the library again, with the exception he wasn't familiar with Winterfell and its people.

He wasn't sure if she was just being her usual self or if this was another subtle display of power, as the direwolves had been.

Soon, his thoughts quieted down as they were walking through winding dark corridors, with barely a few torches lighting the way. As his eyes adjusted he realized he didn't recognize this part of the castle. She slowed down her pace and he was finally walking by her side. He saw she had her hands wrung together, as she often did back in King's Landing when she wanted to take his hand but couldn't because they were in public.

He didn't know what was stopping her now. War? Formality? Honor? She may have been calling herself Queen, yet she struggled to act like one. She wasn't even twenty-five summers old yet.

"What do you northerners have against candles?" he whispered, figuring nobody was around to hear anyway. "Did you spend all your gold on weaponry? Maybe on armor? Should we donate candles to Winterfell?"

"We have more than enough gold, thank you for caring," she snapped, giving him a dirty look. "I apologize my castle is too dark for your liking, Prince Daemon. The Red Keep was too bright for mine."

He smiled to himself, remembering she used to blow out most of the candles her handmaidens lit in her chambers in the Red Keep. She preferred the cold and the darkness. Like a wolf.

They finally arrived at a wooden double door with two men standing guard outside. One of them bowed his head and opened the door for her, waiting for them to make their way inside before closing it, giving them privacy.

And that was where they were now. Sitting on the oversized wooden chairs in front of the fireplace, to his right a desk with lots of scrolls and some books, forgotten, and behind her a door that probably connected this solar to her private chambers.

The silence was long but not uncomfortable. There was a lot to think about before talking.

Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice cutting through the silence.

"Why are you here, Daemon?"

The flames barely illuminated their faces, the corners of the room submerged in darkness. Y/N's eyes were fixated on him.

"Because I wished to fuck you like the old times, so I figured I should visit," he responded nonchalantly, tilting his head to the side. "Wait, there was something else." He paused, pretending to think before his eyes scrutinized her, searing. The playfulness was gone from his voice now. "Maybe it is because you are calling yourself Queen of this barren piece of land and rebelling against my brother, your King. Unless there is some other crime you committed I should be aware of."

She raised an eyebrow.

"The Lords of the North named me their Queen. Don't act as if I take pleasure in any of this. Are you here to kill me, then?"

"No, but I will be," he answered honestly. "My brother can be very forgiving. That's what makes him a bad king, but it's also why you are still alive and will live the rest of your life in peace if you forget about this. Call off your bannermen. Burn your crown, wherever it is. Pretend this never happened and swear your loyalty to King Viserys again."

"I don't think you understand what's at stake, Daemon," she bit out.

"No, you don't understand what's at stake!" His hands gripped his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white. "Why war, Y/N? You will die!"

The intensity of his gaze burned her, but she stood her ground. She was a Stark, and Starks did not cower.

"I will die anyway if I'm dragged into another one of your royal conflicts." She gripped her chair as well, leaning forward with the same rage burning in her chest.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned, exasperated. "The realm has been in peace for decades!"

She stood up suddenly, agitated, and walked towards the fireplace, the heat radiating from it making her blush.

They both needed a pause to cool off their tempers.

"What about Viserys' succession? I hear the lords are going restless as he fathers no boys. And your reputation doesn't help you being his heir," she hissed.

"Is this what this is about?" he sneered. "You fear being dragged to war when my brother dies because the realm won't accept me as their King?"

"That's part of it," she admitted, turning to look at him, her grey eyes cold as they fixed on his. A moment passed before he stood up as well, standing behind her as she stared into the fire.

"There will only be war if you force it, Y/N, and you will die along with your people, your wolves, your family..."

Even as he threatened her, he took her hair in his hands with great care. Longer than he remembered it, but just as wild. She never bothered braiding it.

"You underestimate me," she said, lowering her voice. There was no need to yell anymore. As they stood by the fire, the conversation felt intimate. Even if the matter of discussion was unpleasant.

"We have dragons," he answered, curling a strand of her hair around his finger and letting it slip away. "The blood of Old Valyria runs through our veins. How do you think we became your kings in the first place?"

His hands wandered to her waist, where they settled, as he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking into the fire as well.

"We are dragonlords. Fire will consume a regular man, but not us. Your ancestor bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. Your father swore an oath to my brother. Starks aren't known for being oathbreakers."

"Strangers in a strange land is what you are," she mused. "My House can be traced back eight thousand years, to the First Men. We have always been here. This is our land."

She could feel Daemon's grip around her waist loosening, and she placed his hands on top of his, silently asking him not to leave her.

"But you're right, we're not oathbreakers, even if Torrhen Stark made a mistake, we've upheld our vows all these years," she continued. "The problem is... rules change when winter comes. In winter, we must protect each other. And that mandate is above anything else. Even our loyalty to the Iron Throne. It is not power I wish for, it is to be excluded from southern conflicts. And that is not possible if I'm Lady of Winterfell."

She turned around, cupping his face in her hands.

"My dragon," she whispered, tears in her eyes, maybe caused by the intense heat of the fireplace, maybe because she did not wish for this to happen. "I cannot turn my back on my people. Winter is coming. And war is coming in the South, I know it. We cannot be part of it."

"You don't know that," he whispered back, clutching her wrists and pushing her away, refusing her touch. "You would force me to kill you because your lords wish for their independence. They are using you, filling your mind with baseless fear."

"Winter is coming and it is not a lie," she stated, knowing he was aware of it. "Only a fool would not fear winter. Or a son of summer, who has only known the sun and its warmth, and winters so short they are barely cold autumns. This is real winter we are facing."

She broke free from his grip and moved closer to him, their chests almost touching as she looked up at him.

"If I must die, I apologize if it has to be by your hand," she said. "I will not stand down, Daemon. We do not have to fight your wars."

"You say you are trying to avoid war yet you're dooming all your people to die by dragonfire because you refuse to back away from one."

"Haven't you heard? Some Northerners have to die when winter comes, or all of us do."

"I have read about the frozen castles, the men riding direwolves north of The Wall, the food that runs out. It seems rather fantastical."

"So do dragons, yet here you are."

"Yet here I am," he agreed. "I am not a patient man, Y/N. If this is your answer, I will take it to my brother, and I will come back with more dragons to kill you and the rest of the traitors that follow your lead."

"If this is yours, I will wait for you with our army. You might be a dragon, but you forget I am a wolf. My blood runs as thick as yours, Daemon," she defied. "We do not belong as part of the Seven Kingdoms. We never did. We do not share their customs, blood, or gods."

He stared at her, the same way he often did to men when he wanted them to submit, but she did not waver. Wolf's blood.

"Do the direwolves obey you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"They do not," she answered simply. "They cannot be tamed. But they are powerful beasts and they will fight by our side."

"Can the wolves fly? Can they spit fire? Because even with a thousand wolves you cannot hope to fight our dragons."

She smiled sadly, walking towards one of the corners of the room, where a jug of wine and two cups waited on a table.

"Of course we can." She spoke as she served both cups and brought one to Daemon. He accepted it, drinking without taking his eyes off her. "We've studied the Dornish. Dragons can die. And they will."

"Do not get cocky, Y/N," he said, brows furrowed. "It is not wise."

"Riding dragons up north in winter is not wise, yet is it what you promise me. Do not bring them here. They do not belong."

"Dragons can resist low temperatures," he contested.

"Can you?" she asked, an eyebrow raised, as she sipped her wine.

"Are you daring me to bring war to your doors? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I am asking you to reconsider. You can come here with ten dragons and thirty thousand men for all I care," she stated. "You would be out of your element. You would die. We would kill some of you, you would kill some of us, and then winter would kill us all."

"Treason is not forgivable, Y/N. There will be no negotiations. You either submit or you die. Are you sure of this?"

His question was genuine, it was clear in his eyes.

"Just give my message to Viserys," she answered.

Daemon waited a few seconds and then nodded.

"If you were anyone else, I would have your head now."

She ran a hand through his silver hair.

"I know." Her smile as she looked at him was tinted with sorrow. He looked at her too, understanding, as his heart grieved as well.

"I will leave for King's Landing as soon as the sun rises," he said. "And when I return, nothing will be the same again. Do you understand that?"

"It is the hour of ghosts," she whispered. "Dine with me one last time. Share my bed. Do not hurry. It is our last night together. Let it belong to us."

He finished his cup of wine and threw it into the fire.

"Forget about dinner." He took her cup as well and did the same with it. "Until dawn arrives, we belong to each other. Together. As we were always meant to be."

He grasped her chin, his thumb pressing on her bottom lip.

"I do not wish to waste a single minute of it," he whispered.

Their lips clashed together in an instant, hungry, desperate. She arched her back, pressing her body against his, as his hands blindly and shakily tried to undo the laces that tied her dress. She bit on his bottom lip, making his breath hitch, asking him for more as she clung to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He kissed her forcefully, sliding his tongue against hers, letting themselves get lost in each other. His hands still tried to unlace the back of her dress, as he had done so many times before but now the anxiousness to get rid of it didn't let him. She wasn't doing any better as she tugged on his doublet, frustrated when it wouldn't budge, and broke away from the kiss to pull on the small silver chains that held it together, snapping them off one by one. Still agitated, Daemon reached behind him and pulled a dagger. She was so focused on undressing him she didn't notice until he pressed the blade against her skin, between her breasts, and slid it down, swiftly cutting the fabric of her dress.

"Daemon!" she complained, feeling the warmth of the fireplace on her bare breasts. But he just gave her a mischievous look and knelt in front of her, finishing cutting her out of her dress. It fell and pooled around her, leaving her completely naked.

His eyes didn't leave her as he got rid of his also ruined doublet, placing his sword on the floor.

"It would have taken too long," he breathed out, baring his torso.

He lifted a brow, inviting her to join.

In a haze, she knelt down next to him and pressed her lips against his, licking them until he opened his mouth and let her kiss him, moist, dirty, delirious. When he finished undressing his hands found her back and without breaking the kiss he made her lean until her back was on the floor, the rug soft under her body. They parted for just a moment to look at each other, trying to force themselves to burn this into their memory, to never forget.

With her pupils so dilated her eyes were dark, she dug her nails into his lower back, trying to get him to fuck her. To love her.

"Daemon," she moaned, her lips parting as she gasped for breath, hooking a leg around his hips. "Please."

He didn't need anything else, his eyes never leaving hers as he slid into her slowly, making her feel drunk when he was finally buried deep inside her, right where he belonged. She closed her eyes for just a moment but Daemon's sudden grip on her thigh made her open them again.

"Look at me," he whispered. She did as he said and his hand loosened his grip to stroke her thigh, as he slowly slid out of her and in again, setting a slow pace, burying himself deep inside her. Their eyes were connected with lust, longing, and something else neither would ever admit.

Y/N's hands splayed across his chest and she ran them all over his body, feeling his warm skin, his muscles, his scars. Remembering every part of him as if she had never left. He brushed his lips against hers, making her arch her neck up to kiss him, but he denied her, burying his head in her shoulder instead. She could feel his heavy breathing against her skin as she crossed her legs behind his hips, guiding his movements, guiding him back inside her.

She ran her hands through his hair, undoing his braid, letting it free. She felt one of his hands touching her breasts, slowly, his finger circling around one of her nipples, leaving trails of fire on her skin. Time slowed down as he moved to suck on her nipple, making it even harder than it was, making the heat inside her unbearable. She cried out as she grabbed him by his hair and forced him to look at her.

"Kiss me," she begged, the feeling of him sinking into her over and over again almost sending her over the edge.

He did as she asked, engulfing her in a long, passionate kiss. And when they parted, a string of saliva still connecting them, they gazed into each other's eyes, telling each other what their words couldn't say.

"Y/N..." he breathed out, and she knew what he meant.

"Do it," she whispered, running her hands through his hair. "You know, Daemon. I know as well."

"I need you to say it," he insisted, looking at her deeply. "For both of us."

"I am yours..." she said, cupping the side of his face. "As you are mine."

He changed his pace then, slamming his hips into hers and hitting that sweet spot every single time, driving both of them over the edge. As he started losing his rhythm, he leaned down and kissed her desperately. She kissed him back, dissolving into pleasure as she clenched around him and felt him slowly stop moving, spilling deep inside her.

They kissed until they ran out of breath and Daemon rolled to his side, holding her body to follow his.

They lay in front of the fireplace, lost in each other's eyes, their bodies still intertwined.

They would be strangers in a few hours, but for now, they were still allowed to love.

Next part.

Tagging: @batprincess1013 @lollaa-puff @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mamamooqa @queenmendes @chevelledahuman @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @boofy1998 @lovelokiqueen @kmhappybunny240 @dudde-44 @dankfarrikdin @gothicgay14 @ilovemarauders @ilovemydinoboi @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @how2besalty @kaitieskidmore1 @thhriller @omgsuperstarg @missyviolet123 @booksnink13

TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon x mom!reader au)

warnings: angsty (?), aemond is a bookworm and a worried father, alyssa couldn't care less about old lady vhagar, they both have trouble with their feelings about each other.

author's note: i really love alymond's relationship. they're top tier enemies to lovers and i'm living for them. also, the face claim for alyssa is freya allen as ciri in the witcher, so picture her with silver hair and violet eyes.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @useraelin

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Alyssa always had trouble sleeping. Is something Daemon had, and passed it on to his favorite child.

On these sleepless nights, the young princess would find distraction in old pages from the old books on the old shelves at the library inside the Keep.

Her favorite place in the castle, Alyssa had great memories there, where her father taught her high-valyrian, where she used to play hide from her septa, and where she would find refuge from insomnia.

What she did not know is that Prince Aemond shared the same feelings about the library. The place where he had studied his whole life, to be better and smarter than everyone else.

So she wasn't expecting to find the Prince's slim figure, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

Blushing, Alyssa gulped, quite startled by the sight of her cousin. He wasn't wearing his eyepatch, and his sapphire glowed in the firelight.

She had a full view of the scar she gave him.

They had not seen each other since they shared a kiss, four days ago.

"I believe the hour of the owl is not up for little girls to be out of bed." Aemond muttered, too focused on his book.

"Fuck off, Aemond." The princess retorted, and went in search of a book.

When she found one she was familiar with, she wandered around the room, looking for a warm place to sit, but none was better than the empty armchair by the fireplace, beside Prince Aemond.

"You can sit here, I won't bite." He voiced in a murmur, and his eye never left the old page he read, to look at the princess.

Alyssa sat on the armchair, and stared at the cover of the book without saying a word.

Perhaps the princess thought that ignoring her cousin would make the moment less awkward, but it didn't.

It wasn't very often that Aemond was seen without his eyepatch, and she tried hard not to stare.

She thought he was already gorgeous, but that precious stone that replaced his eye made him look something more.

"What are you reading?" The princess asked lowly.

"Now you want to do small talk?" Aemond cocked an eyebrow as his smirk threatened to make an appearance.

Alyssa tsked, rolling her eyes.

"I'm reading a chapter about the life expectancy of dragons. Vhagar is not getting any younger, and if something happens to her..."

"Didn't Balerion die at 200 and something? Isn't Vhagar like... 180?" The princess questioned.

"181." Aemond corrected.

"Gods, that thing is really old." Alyssa mocked, playing with her fingers.

Aemond finally turned his head to face her. His sapphire glowed to the firelight, the beautiful shade of blue contrasting with the prince's pale skin tone.

"She's the last living piece from the conquest. You should pay some respect."

Alyssa scoffed, "Aemond, she's a living burden. She's as slow as she's big. You should hope she dies so you can claim a better dragon. Maybe the wild ones will let you tame–"

Aemond slammed his hand against the arm of the chair, offended by the princess' idea.

"You have no idea what it’s like to be dragonless! They're what makes us what we are! Dreams didn't make us kings, dragons did!" Aemond closed the book in his hands harshly.

"I–" The princess frowned. She was quite hurt that her words actually affected him. "I am sorry, Aemond. It wasn't my intention to make you angry."

Aemond sighed, staring at the book resting in the princess' hands. She had not opened that book once since she took it out of it's shelf.

"What is yours about?" Aemond nodded at the book. Alyssa followed his direction to her hands.

"Tales of Old Valyria." She murmured, "It's my favorite book."

"Oh. I've read this one. It's m– hm, It's really good." Aemond bit his lip, turning his back to her and facing the fire.

They stayed in silent for a couple of minutes, but there was nothing comfortable about it. It was awkwardly strange, and Alyssa still felt bad for mocking Vhagar.

And she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, and how Aemond's soft lips felt against hers.

And how handsome he is without his eyepatch.

And his scar... the one made by her hands. She felt bad about that, for the first time. They were just children. Stupid children, she thought.

"I'm sorry."

Aemond half turned to her. He wondered if she was really talking to him, and what she felt sorry about.

"I– I'm sorry about your eye." Alyssa whispered, her voice could barely be heard.

Aemond chuckled softly, "You're a few years late, Alyssa."

It took him a few seconds before he added;

"I'm sorry about your cat."

The princess smirked, staring at the man in front of her.

Aemond was so different from what he normally looked like.

His hair was tied in a low ponytail, and it rested on his shoulder.

He wore linen clothes, like he was off to bed. And yet there he was, in front of her. Both alone, in the library, during the late hours.

And to the fire that warmed the space around them, Alyssa was sure he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

"You're a few years late, Aemond."

200 DAYS OF HOUSE TARGARYEN ↳ day 34: daenerys targaryen in valar dohaeris

unconquered // 9

[9; courage]

house of the dragon aemond targaryen x last valyrian!reader

[read on ao3]

The silence remains unbearable when it returns.

You would have thought by now, settling into life here at the Keep, forming bonds and relationships whilst finding some kind of happiness, that it would abide. It does not; claws already so deep into your flesh that you fear the wounds may never heal. It is like binding chains thick around your neck, that allow you some sense of freedom as long as you don’t wander too far. As long as you don’t stare directly at it, or question yourself too fiercely, they remain loose.

You dread the day the chains pull tight.

Some nights, like tonight, when it is particularly bad, you sneak out of the Keep to sleep beside Archeon.

Ser Erryk is easy to evade if you exercise your power to send him away, and using the passage he showed you, it is relatively simple to escape undetected. You’ve managed to learn which route to take, and as long as you wear an old cloak, blending in is not an issue. You fear for what may happen if you trek through the city. King’s Landing is seen by many of the smallfolk as lawless, and terrifying, and as a woman alone, it is ultimately far more dangerous. Although it takes considerably longer, sticking to the outskirts of the city and following it along to the beaches is best. If you do that, you reach them with little to no problem.

On nights like tonight, when the moon is high and the skies are clear, you are able to look out across the sand beaches, and see the tide break onto the shores. You are entirely alone here, and there are none who dare approach this section of King’s Landing -- with good reason. It’s like a portion of the Earth has been forgotten during its creation; left a blank space of nothingness, where all light and color fails to reach.

Archeon sprawls out in a mass of black.

He knows it is you when you approach, and lifts his head sleepily -- just enough for you to curl up with him in the same place you always have -- even when you hid from the doom. In the crook of his shoulder, against his chest, tucked away from the world. When he was younger, all those years ago, he would fall asleep with his head in your lap. Now, he sleeps with his font limbs crossed, head tucked around you tightly, protectively. He’s warm, the sand is soft, and the grumbles of his chest are loud, thick with tiredness.

Something akin to a soft warble gets stuck in his throat, and you know he’s falling back asleep. Your head moves with the rise and fall of his great body, and everything, in that moment, is quiet.

It is the most comfort you can find in this life.

Only when the sun breaks over the waves, do you wake, and return to the Keep. To aid you on your journey, Archeon helps you scale the cliffs, balancing you easily on his head, and lifting himself up, resting his chin on the grass atop the precipice. You slide off, and find footing on the edge.

He coos a few times at you, and then lowers back down.

“You will be receiving a saddle soon,” you call out when he shakes sleep from his body.

He gives you an incredulous look. Say you jest.

“You are still growing, are you not, my heart?” you say. “You are older than 200 and your size shows it. Please do not fight me on this. And do not fight those who come to fit you with it, either.”

He grumbles, but says nothing more, stalking out into the sea and sulking. You sigh. He’s like an impudent child at times.

Before dawn breaks fully, you are within the Keep once more. The warmth of your room welcomes you, and when you remove the cloak from your shoulders, Elen knocks once at your door. You panic, dishevelled state an obvious giveaway to your nighttime excursions, but there is little time to hide or change when she is already giving herself entrance.

She carries a plate of food -- your fresh breakfast, and gives you a startled look. It melts softly into a knowing expression.

“Good morning, your grace,” she greets warmly.

“Good morning, Elen,” you reply.

She sets the plates on the small table between your sofas, and immediately moves towards the standing bath.

“Although I am concerned about your nightly disappearances,” she begins, and you cringe at being caught, sitting to eat. “I am reassured that they are spent within the protective company of your dragon. You are far too precious for me to allow anything to happen to you.”

You smile between mouthfuls of oats. Mothering.

“I understand, Elen,” you hum, “I will be careful.”

“However,” she continues, swishing the water to check the temperature, “If I must beat pursuers off with a stick, your grace, rest assured I will. I am just an old lady, and no more than a servant, but... if you could ask Ser Erryk to accompany you in the future, it would help me sleep a little better. And at my age, your grace, it is something I desperately need.”

You look at her, and she's giving you a soft, pleading expression. You sigh.

“I do not wish to bother him,” you say. “He deserves his rest at night, as we all do.”

She huffs, “It is his duty, your grace.”

You shrug, the word becoming a nuisance. It sounds more like an excuse to you.

“You could always ask the prince?” she suggests.

You cough forcefully. “Is my bath ready?”

She smiles at your reaction. “Yes, your grace.”

You undress quickly, and sink into the depths of the water, restless with both your thoughts and your feelings. Elen fills a jug with water, pouring it over your head, your body, lathering soap into your skin, scrubbing your scalp.

“I will never understand the depth of the bond between dragon and rider,” she muses softly, speaking her thoughts aloud more than initiating conversation, and you are happy to listen. “Existing separate and yet, one entity. A ferocious and untameable beast -- why do they allow you to control them? To ride them? I do not think I will ever understand. I fear I would be a terrible Targaryen.” She laughs at her joke, rinsing your hair gently. “But if it is anything like the bond between a mother and a child, the ache when you are apart must be unbearable.”

You look down at your reflection. She stares back up at you, rippling in the water.

“Do you have children, Elen?”

She doesn’t pause in her work, but does not reply, either. You do not press her for an answer, feeling a bridge build itself between the topic and the answer. Her reflection looks sad.

Todays plans had come in the form of another note from the prince delivered last night. He offered for you to join him on a horseback ride through the Kingswood, expressing for the first time in written form, his pleasant hope that you would join him. You gave Ser Erryk a note to pass on this morning, conveying a happy acceptance of his offer.

“I am to meet this Prince this morning,” you voice, wishing to fill the silence with something, rather than keep it suspended in nothing at all. “At the stables.”

“To ride?” Elen asks.

You nod. “I have never ridden a horse before.”

“If you can ride a dragon, I am sure the two are not so different, your grace,” she laughs, “You will be fine.”

Elen dresses you in an outfit far less extravagant and noble than she would wish to; dark sturdy trousers tucked into calf-length boots and a loose blouse, and although she expresses her wish for you to live only in fine gowns, you remind her it must be suitable in some way for riding, at least. You would hate to ruin the beautiful garments you’ve been given all for the sake of appearance. She ties your hair up out of your face in a way that is all practicability, but allows a subtle beauty to take hold of your features. She foregoes jewellery, but makes you look all the size and notoriety of a royal regardless. You never fail to be impressed by her skills.

With a wave, and a reminder to have fun, she sends you off, Ser Erryk hot at your heels.

“I have never been to the stables of the Keep before,” you admit, looking up at your sworn sword as you walk through the long stone halls of the castle. “Have you?”

He nods. “I have, my lady. I think you will enjoy them.”

He holds various doors open for you as he walks ahead, and escorts you through the grounds, towards where noise and bustle becomes more prominent. You hear clopping hooves, braying, shovels scraping on stone, and the light smell of straw and hay that carries on the breeze.

“Thank you, Ser Erryk,” you nod, once you feel you are close enough, and he stops. “Please spend the rest of the day doing as you wish. I will continue onwards from here alone.”

He bows to you formally, offering an “As you wish, my lady,” and with that, turns on his heels, and returns to the castle.

You watch him go for a moment, staring back up at the towering form of the Keep as it looms ever present, always watching. With the multitude of windows, you wonder if you are ever as truly alone as you feel. You turn away and continue onwards. The thought is one that does not comfort you.

You take your time inspecting the detailed work of the royal stables. Dark wood and black metal make up the prominent architecture, but the overall design is open and flowing. It’s inviting, and calming on the eye. Horses of every color snort and whinny at their leisure, soft fur and calm eyes, all exuding the air of being well tended to. Workers are busy tending to them, cleaning out stalls, preparing tack or food, and each of them move in a way that speaks to their professionalism and training. No less is expected from those in service to the crown.

But, you notice, the gentle sound of sobbing carries underneath it all.

You frown, heart thumping at the noise. For a moment, you thought you had simply imagined it. Retracing your steps towards the more secluded stalls in the outer buildings, however, tells you it is not from your mind as you had originally suspected. You are quiet when you creep forward, towards an empty stable from which the noise emanates. The bottom half of the stable door is shut, but the top half remains open, and you rise on your toes to glance inside.

At once, your hand flies over your mouth, and you stumble back quickly, quietly, taking care not to make a sound as you leave with haste, your presence remaining unseen.

Prince Aegon lay curled up on the straw floor of the stable, half asleep, crying quietly to himself. He was dressed in dirty rags, torn and unwashed, face flushed red with hot tears. If not for the unmistakable snowy head of white Targaryen hair, you would think he were just a poor stable boy, or one of the smallfolk.

Something twists in your gut at his lonely state, seeing him so desperately sad, and your ardent dislike of him wobbles on its track. Although you are gripped with curiosity about his situation, there is no one you can openly ask about it -- and even if there was, who is to say they would know? What has caused the sorrow? Is he simply drunk, or is there something deeply upsetting that troubles the oldest Targaryen son? What reason is there, for a prince of the realm to sleep in the cold stables, cry quietly to himself, and muffle his sobs so no one hears?

But, then again, what reason is there for you to escape the castle and choose to sleep beside your dragon on wet sand, rather than seek comfort in a warm bed?

Everyone has their wars to fight.

You are less determined in your steps, mind elsewhere as you continue onwards, towards where the stables open into a wide yard. Despite the multitude of workers going about their tasks, here, there is a sense of calm. Like the eye of a storm.

Two horses stand, already fully tacked up, and who else beside them, but your silver-haired prince. He is standing with his back to you, clad in black riding trousers, knee high boots, and a billowing white shirt tucked neatly into his pants. Stable attendants hold the reins to the two horses, as Prince Aemond coos softly to a beautiful dappled stallion, stroking its neck as he waits for you. Beside him, a chestnut colt, black mane and shiny coat. The horses are clearly well cared for, poised and alert, and their beauty almost leaves you breathless.

He seems to sense your approach, turning when you draw close. Is that mirth in his eye? You cannot be sure -- it leaves as soon as it appears. His arms clasp behind his back, and he nods to you. The change in his usual attire is startling, and suits him fervently; strong chest narrowing into a lithe waist, shirt tucked into his pants only accentuating the length of his legs. How he is without admirers is surely beyond you.

“Good morning, my lady,” Prince Aemond greets, silver hair slipping behind his shoulders. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” you look up at him when you speak, holding his gaze, “I did. I trust you slept well, too, my prince?”

He nods -- the dream he had of you last night invades his mind before he can conjure enough willpower to stop it. Desires kept at bay during his waking moments are let loose when he sleeps. His signature hum escapes him.

“I took the liberty of having the horses prepared before you arrived,” he begins, gesturing to the chestnut colt. “This one will be yours for the day.”

The horse shakes its head, snorting playfully when you approach.

“My goodness,” you hush, and it steps forward slightly into your touch. You stroke its soft muzzle, cooing, “You are handsome, are you not?”

Your voice is gentle and encouraging, Aemond thinks -- like a warm embrace. Is this how you would talk to a child, he wonders? His child?

He coughs, and your house jerks a little at the noise.

“Oh,” you voice, and he looks at your face. “My saddle is different from yours.”

You glance between them and he does the same.

“Yours is a side saddle,” he explains, nodding to the two pommels sicking out from the leather of your seat. “It is what ladies use to ride.”

Before you can conceal your disbelief, you scrunch your nose up in bewilderment, and laugh at the puzzling logic. He watches you with curiosity.

“Is that necessary?” you ask. “It looks uncomfortable...”

He takes a moment to answer, smiling with uncertainty. “I am not sure, my lady. Most noblewomen ride this way.”

“Will the saddle on my dragon also be made similarly?”

He shakes his head no, understanding your reluctance. “If you would prefer it, I am happy to order the attendants to change it to a regular one?”

“If you use a regular saddle, my prince, then I would like to use the same,” you nod, stroking your horses neck. “I’d like to be equal with you, if I can."

He gestures towards the attendants and explains his wishes, taking the reins of his dappled stallion so the workers may focus on leading your horse away. The air settles around you, but the hustle and bustle continues.

You glance up at Prince Aemond, watching him mutter soft words to his horse, the animal blinks slowly, as if comforted by the tone of his voice. His lips quirk upwards when he notices you staring, and, with a gentle voice, he speaks.

“This horse has been mine since I was a child,” he explains, stroking its neck softly, fixing stray wisps of the stallions mane. “A gift from my father.”

“He’s beautiful,” you whisper, stepping closer.

It makes a short, high-pitched noise at your approach, snorting a little, and Prince Aemond hushes him softly, pulling gently at the reins to redirect his attention.

“Calm, calm,” he hushes in Valyrian, rubbing the horses muzzle with a finger. It abides, settling quickly. “He is a little nervous with those he has never met before.”

The Prince returns to the common tongue, and opens his palm towards you; a silent invitation. You step closer slowly, until your shoulder brushes against his, but neither of you move to create space.

Your hand lifts, and your fingers thread through the stallions coat; dappled fur sliding against your palm. It’s soft, calming, and you relax in the movement, the horse nickering at your affectionate gesture. It nudges Prince Aemond gently, as if asking him to join you. He abides, hand coming up to stroke his horses neck, and you are content standing in the quiet beside him.

Your cannot help but allow your eyes to trace the details of his pale hand as it moves alongside your own.

Compared to yours, there is a sizeable difference. He has prominent veins, and long, elegant fingers that comb through the fur of his regal stallion. His nails are soft pink, clean, and well kept. From the size of his hands, there is a sense of power that lies dormant; an unspoken strength that palpitates in waves. Despite years and years of swordsmanship, however, they remain elegant. You think they would treat you with reverence.

Your pinkies brush accidentally, and you both pull away.

Notwithstanding the familiarity that grows, each of you continue to exist in awkwardness every now and them. Nowadays, though, its endearing, more than uncomfortable.

“Have you ever ridden before, my lady?” he asks, hands brushing either side of his horses face.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so, my prince. Perhaps I may have in Valyria, but I cannot be certain.”

“That is no problem,” he reassures. “Riding a dragon is far more difficult, so you will be fine. There is no need to be afraid or nervous.”

He goes on to point out the various important aspects of tack -- stirrups, bridle, reins, and how to use them efficiently. He teaches you how to ask your horse to move through the different gaits, how to slow, how to manoeuvre. There is a lot of information to take in, and Prince Aemond must notice your apprehensive expression.

“Don’t worry,” he hums, gentle. “If you are unsure at any point, just remember I will be by your side throughout.”

At the approaching sound of slow hooves, you turn, your chestnut colt arriving; re-tacked with a regular saddle upon the Princes request. Lead by an older stable worker with grey hair, when the horse stops before you, the man gives you an expectant look, holding up the reins for you to grasp.

“Here, High Lady,” he starts, voice rough with age but not without politeness. “Your horse.”

You look between the man and the reins in his outstretched hands a few times, before awkwardly reaching up to take them. You’re not sure what to do now, and so, you look back over your shoulder at your Prince.

“You may mount him, my lady,” he says with encouragement.

“How...” you look back to the worker, uncertainty threaded through your voice, “How do I get... on...?”

You feel a presence shift closer to your back, and turn to see the Prince move to take the reins from your hand, eye looking over your head towards the older stable attendant.

“Bring my lady a mounting block,” he orders, lips pursed as if annoyed.

The man nods, and hurries off quickly in search for the item. You watch him go, and then, peer up behind you.

Prince Aemond observes the worker closely, following him in his task, and then, feeling your gaze, he shifts his own. His eye softens considerably when he looks down at you, and he smiles shyly under your acute focus. Realising the space between you has grown almost non existent, however, he steps back a little, turning towards your horse instead. Moments later, the worker reappears with a short set of wooden steps -- what you can only assume is the mounting block.

He places it on the floor, and steps back, bowing to you both, before continuing on with his duties, leaving you in peace.

It is clear that you are supposed to climb up, and with a mix of nervous confidence that settles in the pit of your stomach, you ascend.

The block judders sharply, and you panic.

Hands fly out to steady yourself, and you’re not really sure what it is you’re reaching for. Is it the saddle? The horse? All you know is instinct takes over; the airs and graces of your position that keep you stoic disappear, replaced instead by the plummeting feeling of falling.

Prince Aemond’s hand grasps yours with a steady strength, offering a balance and stability nothing else could. He is without riding gloves, skin touching yours without interference or restriction, and it is a startling sensation.

You settle immediately, looking to him with a grateful expression.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asks quickly, expressing concern.

His hand holds yours a little tighter when your legs wobble, the mounting block juddering with every movement you take. Your horse is the least fazed out of all of you, and blinks slowly as if bored.

“Yes, yes,” you voice, heart hammering at the shock. “I’m fine. I just-- I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you, my prince.”

Nerves bubble up and spill forth from your lips in the form of awkward laughter, and you see his shoulders drop, relaxing with the knowledge that all is well.

“You frightened me,” he says quietly, bowing his head a little.

It is said with such tenderness, that a part of you wonders if you are hearing things. You want to say something in return, but before you can, he steals the moment, as if worried about what your response will be. Denying you the chance to speak, regardless of what your words would be. Is he truly so afraid of your opinion?

You wonder if you are thinking too much into it.

“Place your left foot here, my lady,” he instructs, avoiding your eyes, pointing to the stirrup closest to you, “and then hoist yourself up, and swing your other leg over.”

You follow his direction, mounting your horse swiftly, making sure your feet are placed well into the stirrups, sitting deep in the saddle. He holds your hand throughout to make sure you are steady and comfortable, and only when you are secure, and your horse stays calm, does he remove himself to mount his own.

His touch lingers long after it leaves, and Prince Aemond flexes the hand that was holding yours in a way that you cannot be sure even he is aware of. It speaks volumes of his inner thoughts, and you tear your gaze away before he notices, focusing instead on the space between your horses ears. This is the first time, you realize, that the two of you have touched one another, skin-on-skin, without the obstruction of clothing. He must realize it, too. He must.

His lips purse, his eyes are wide, and he mounts his own stallion, focusing instead on the path in front of him.

“Ask your horse to walk, my lady,” he says, squeezing his thighs to urge his own onwards.

You glance down at the animal, and with a soft voice, you ask, “Will you walk on?”

The horse lifts its neck a few times, but does as you ask, and sets a steady gait, moving side by side with the princes own stallion.

You leave the stables together, on a path out of the city, towards the Kingswood. The weather today is bright -- clear skies and shining sun, with a soft breeze that keeps the temperature bearable. You take the Kingsroad through the city; cobbled streets and tightly packed buildings on either side of you, until you reach a bridge that crosses the Blackwater Rush. The path ahead turns to a wide dirt path, small farm houses are few and far between, and then, ahead of you, there is nothing but an expanse; acres and acres of land covered by thick forest.

The horses themselves seem to know where to go, and your own needs little encouragement to stay true. Prince Aemond walks his ahead of you, taking the lead as he rides over the large wooden bridge, but has not said anything to you since you left the stables. The atmosphere is a little awkward. He is too far ahead of you to comfortably hold a conversation without raising your voice, and so, once the both of you have crossed the bridge, you squeeze your thighs, urging your horse to catch up to his left.

You manoeuvre your colt into his stallion purposefully, the horses bumping sideways into one another gently -- not enough to spook them, but enough to steal his attention. He looks at you with a quizzical expression, and you smirk wordlessly at him. He breathes a laugh through his nose, and just like that, the atmosphere becomes light.

The dull thud of the horses soft hooves on the dirt sets a rhythm for the both of you to relax into, and with that, conversation begins easily.

“My sister speaks fondly of you,” he begins. “I think she is very taken with your friendship.”

“I did not expect to grow as close with her as I have,” you admit, “but your sister is someone I now deeply treasure. She is unlike anyone I know.”

“She is the best of the Targaryen's,” he hums.

“You each have your qualities,” you express, adding, “I feel you are too hard on your family.”

He looks at you now. “In what ways?”

“Your father is kind -- and I think you are, too. You are a good man.”

You look up across the expanse of land when you speak. Various farm workers toil in the fields, those nearer to you stop to bow, or dip their heads in greeting. Prince Aemond continues looking at you, however. Far more interested in what you have to say than anything else.

You make a noise, something between a laugh and a derisive snort. “Your brother is yet to be judged by me, however.”

It is supposed to be light-hearted, but Prince Aemond sharply changes the subject. You feel there is perhaps a bridge burned between them that can never be rebuilt.

“The Kingswood is usually reserved for hunting,” he explains, nodding towards the looming forest. “My brother has spent a few namedays here, though my sister and myself have not.”

The path you are riding on is quickly reaching the mouth of the woods, beyond which, a trail through the thick trees and undergrowth is laid out. The scent of earth and foliage is strong, but not unpleasant.

“Do you often visit the Kingswood?” you ask, entering the forest with the prince by your side.

Birds of all varieties sing and vocalise above you, high up into the canopies of the trees. Some stretch so far up into the heavens that you must crane your neck to see the top of them. Although you cannot see it, you are certain that the forest around you is teeming with life.

“Not as often as I would wish,” he admits.

“Duty permits you little time to yourself, I suppose.”

It’s a rhetorical statement, and Prince Aemond says nothing further. Duty does permit him little time to relish in what he enjoys doing -- if there were anything at all that he enjoyed in the first place.

The two of you move deeper into the woods on horseback, through twists and turns that the path lays out. Some parts of the woodland floors are covered in delicate flowers, pale yellow and white, whilst others are filled with the remnants of branches that lived once high above. You are able to peer through the spaces of trees deeper into the forest, but all that exists is more of the same. For some reason, when you realise the gaps have been created from those that have fallen naturally or been chopped down, you are filled with a sense of sorrow.

If a tree falls where no one is to hear it, does it truly make a sound?

Prince Aemond watches you discreetly whilst you take in your surroundings. To him, there is something wholly captivating about you. Even though traversing conversations with you or being in your presence feels like a great obstacle to overcome. He is shy by nature, and learned painfully in his youth that meekness is an open invitation for pain. Those who are gentle and kind are easily exploited. When his eye was forcefully taken, he made a deep promise to his soul that no one will ever hurt him again. He would never allow anyone to see him small or fearful. Not once. Never.

Being with you is asking him to be open, when he has been nothing but shut tight since 10. It takes courage to be kind. It takes strength to be soft, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough yet. He will not voice it, nor look it directly in the eye, but at night, when he is most alone, he realises he is afraid.

Courage is not the absence of fear, however. It is the ability to push onwards to overcome it. Sometimes, he thinks that is your voice telling him to be brave. That only if he is brave enough to overcome his fears will he gain your hand... your respect... your love. It is only the brave who conquer.

He pushes onwards in pursuit of you.

You smile at him then, and he smiles back. The sun shines brightly against his skin, he thinks. Warm -- like a home he doesn't understand yet. If he is brave though, he will.

“I do not smile near half as much as I do when I am with you,” he speaks softly.

“Nor I,” you reply, voice like a song. “I am happiest with you, too.”

He feels like he is a child of ten again, giddy at innocent things.

The both of you reach a wide clearing atop a hill, and you can see the great expanse of forest from up here, stretching far beyond the Kings land. Your horses stand in tandem, overlooking the huge plain, and you have a great urge for freedom, a sudden desire to gallop.

You glance only once at Prince Aemond, grin growing wide, before you spur your horse with fervour, commanding it to launch into a sprinting gait, and you are away. The prince yells out after you, but his words are lost in the whipping winds that rush past your ears, and then, thundering hooves from behind signal his chase. He catches up easily, dappled stallion keeping pace beside yours with little effort, his white hair whipping out behind him. There is an elated emotion coursing through his veins that bubbles up and leaves his lips in a cry of happiness.

He’s grinning at you, and you are yelling out with joy.

From the skies above, a thunderous roar, deafening, and it shakes the very earth beneath you.

Archeon appears in great glory, soaring above the two of you, low enough that you can see the markings of his underbelly. With each beat of his gargantuan wings, the air wooshes past you from the force, and your body jostles with it. Prince Aemond doesn’t look afraid, but pure surprise and shock are etched deep into his handsome features. Your horses whinny at the colossal presence, and you both bring them to a juddering halt, least they bolt.

Your dragon circles the clearing as you watch, his flight over trees startles nesting birds who scatter when he passes, and he settles on landing where there is enough space. He descends legs first, as always, and his weight on the ground makes a deafening noise. His front limbs join, and when he is steady, he coos, loudly rumbling at you. There is something different about his appearance, you think, and when he lowers himself to the grass, you notice he has been fitted with a saddle; black, with silver details. He looks incredibly royal.

This is the first time Prince Aemond has seen Archeon.

His grip on the reins tightens considerably, and his stallion snorts at the tension.

His first thought recognises the strength and power from your dragon is sharply unlike his own. Where Vhagar is larger only slightly, she is sluggish, and old, wearing all 200 years of her life openly. Yours remains older than his -- if his knowledge of historical timelines is accurate -- and yet, is lithe with youth. He frowns, confused. Is there a reason? Your dragon shows no signs of old age. No lethargy, no muscle loss, no foul temper. Only raw power like he is in the prime of his life, and ready to throw his weight around.

“Would you like to meet him?”

Your voice pulls Prince Aemond from his thoughts, and when he turns to meet your gaze, you have already dismounted your horse, keen to approach your dragon.

Prince Aemond would be lying if he said he was not intimidated.

He approaches with you, but lingers slightly behind, your horses left to graze. The closer he gets, the more unsettled he feels. Your dragon is watching him intently; not focused at all on you, but fervent in his unblinking stare, holding his gaze. He even turns his head slightly to follow Prince Aemond’s movements.

It is an obvious warning -- as if one were even needed in the first place.

Your dragon is highly intelligent, that much is clear. He’s sitting stagnant right now because you are calm and relaxed, but Prince Aemond is sure if he made one wrong move, his death would be imminent.

He expects you to stop a few meters shy of your dragons snout, but to his amazement, you continue onwards, until you are physically leaning against it, arms stretching out to stroke him with tender affection. He hears Archeon click soft and high -- not unlike Vhagar when he talks to her, and when you laugh at his soft nudges, he warbles low.

“My heart,” you begin, and Aemond recognises the tone you use immediately. It’s the same one you spoke to his horse with -- the same one he hopes you use for his child. “This is Prince Aemond.”

There is a derisive snort from your monstrous beast, and he’s pulling away from you only slightly, attempting to show his obvious distain.

“Come, come,” you coo, lowering your voice so only your dragon can hear, “He is to be my husband, as you know. Son of the king, and rider of the great Vhagar.”

Archeon blows air out from his mouth, hot smoke wisping up. It does not impress me.

“Oh dear, my poor heart,” you sigh in mock dejection, and turn to walk away.

Prince Aemond watches your dragon turn sharply back, and release a sad noise at your apparent dismissal.

You flash the prince a smirk, before saying loudly over your shoulder, “And here I was thinking the two things most precious to me would be able to get along. Ah, I am so sad. This hurts me terribly. What am I to do...?”

Archeon wails loud and long, as if begging you to turn and come back, painfully wounded by your own apparent rejection of him. You turn swiftly and flit towards him once again.

Your wording, however, is not lost to the prince, and he repeats it like a mantra in his mind.

Most precious to me.

“Shall I try again, my heart?” you ask, and his chest grumbles softly. “This is Prince Aemond.”

You turn to open your palm towards him -- much like he did with his own horse earlier -- in a silent invitation to approach. Prince Aemond moves closer, legs unsteady under the weight of your dragons stare, and his shoulder brushes yours when he stops. Neither of you move to create space.

“He is as you described,” the prince says, taking in the detail of your dragon.

Thick black scales, black horns, black wings, and startling golden eyes. He is undeniably beautiful. Youthful, but with a stoic composure gained only from age -- wise beyond his years.

“You speak to him as if he were human,” Prince Aemond begins. “Why?”

You rest against Archeon’s muzzle when the dragon lowers his head to the grass.

“Because he can understand me as if he were. He converses with me but not with words -- in his own way. The bond is strong and unmarred. Sometimes it is as if I understand his thoughts better than my own.”

Prince Aemond understands to a certain extent. Vhagar knows his wishes unspoken, but she has enough free will to sometimes disobey. Perhaps it is because she had already bonded with three others before him, so the link isn't as strong as Archeons is with you. Maybe it is something more. Maybe a pure blood Valyrian royal knows the bond like no Targaryen ever will.

“Do you ever speak with Vhagar?”

He shakes his head. “Not like you do.”

“Maybe you should try,” you suggest. “You’ll be surprised at how much she’ll understand.”

He ponders on it for a moment, looking at the details of your face. Would it really be so different than talking to a person? Instead of the usual flat commands, perhaps he should speak to Vhagar like he would with any other?

“Would you like to feel him?” you ask.

Your dragon huffs, annoyed.

“Perhaps another time, my lady,” Prince Aemond answers, stepping back with a shy expression. “I have a feeling your dragon does not think too highly of me.”

The two of you relinquish the situation in favour of moving to sit higher up on the hill together, sharing food you brought with you. The breeze rushes up to greet you softly, in a tender way, parting the long grass like it does the waves of the sea, brushing the princes long white hair behind his shoulders gently, like the touch of a lover. Archeon lounges at the base of the hill, content to relax anywhere so long as he is near you, and your horses continue grazing at their leisure.

You speak openly about things, comfortable in one another's presence that your posture dissolves into laying down in the soft grass to stare up at the passing clouds, while the prince leans back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

“What is your dream, my lady?” he asks, staring up at the sky. From this angle, he looks like an innocent boy, untouched by the heavy weight of his position. “If you were not who you were, what would you want from life?”

He glances down at you from over his shoulder, and you blink up at him slowly.

“I’m not sure,” you answer honestly. “Would I still have Archeon?”

He hums, lips quirking up. “Yes, you would.”

“Then I’d want to travel all over the seven kingdoms. See the Riverlands, the Eyrie, the Reach. Even up to the far North. I’d want to visit everywhere. Essos and beyond. I’d want to be free.”

He looks up at the clouds, imagining your happiness at soaring through them, onwards in your never-ending journey.

“What about you, my prince?”

He doesn’t really have an answer. He was only interested in your own.

“I’d want the same, I think.”

“We could travel together,” you say, sitting up, and creating a wonderous fantasy. “To anywhere and everywhere. Seeing all the world holds side by side. At breakfast each day, we could toss a coin and the winner would decide where to fly to next. Or we could spar, and the victor of our battles would choose,” you laugh at that, then, and he does, too. “I have a feeling, though, that you would always be in charge of our next destination.”

“You would win sometimes,” he teases, “only because I’d let you.”

“Very gentlemanly of you, kind prince.”

You plop back down onto the grass, and this time, he joins you. You stare at the passing clouds together, imaging a future of only freedom.

“In our journeys, lunch could be determined by the shapes we see in the clouds,” he suggests, pointing upwards. “An animal means you win. A plant means I win.”

“What if it’s just a shapeless form?”

“Then you win, too.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” you laugh.

“I don’t mind.”

“What if there are no clouds? Or what if the day is overcast?”

“Then I win.”

“Ah, I see,” you narrow your eyes good-naturedly at him. “So our chances are equal again?”

“Exactly,” he hums, smirking. “It’s balanced.”

You laugh, closing your eyes in quiet content, happy to be in nature with your dragon and your future husband. The day has turned out far better than you could ever have hoped, and not once have you feared the silence.

“My lady,” Prince Aemond begins, and his voice wavers slightly when he speaks. You open your eyes to look at him beside you. “I enjoy spending time with you. I am not used to being in the company of women, and when I spoke to you in the past about my difficulties conversing with those I am unfamiliar with, it was the truth. I was... and sometimes even still... feel unsure of how to speak with you.” He feels terribly vulnerable, out in the open, unguarded, and buckles under the weight of your stare. Perhaps it was not the best time to admit his shortcomings. “I just— I hope I do not bore you. I feel perhaps that my company is not so greatly sought after, and I can understand why.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” you murmur, eyes soft. He wants you to look at only him like that. “Your company is most preferred by me. Perhaps if you could see yourself as I do, you would understand the weight of my affections. If I could spend every second beside you, I would.”

The last bit slips out accidentally, and you burn a furious red at the admission. You turn away. Prince Aemond does the same. Only the sky sees his elated reaction.

The sun creeps gently into the afternoon, skimming the canopies of the trees on its descent towards the horizon. Prince Aemond chances a glance at you. You are still staring up at the skies, taking in the shifting colors painted freely across the heavens; soft peach giving way to brilliant rouge, and in the golden light, you capture his breath. You are perfect. You look like the rest of his life.

“My lady, should we return to the Keep?” he asks, forcing himself to look away.

“Yes,” you sigh, and then, with a brighter tone, you add, “Would you like to fly back? Archeon will seat you with no issue, my prince.”

He gives you a look, uncertainty in his eyes. Your dragon is with saddle, of course, and could easily carry two, but there is something in the pit of his stomach that warns against it. Perhaps it is because he knows of the apparent dislike held by your beast towards him. He wonders mildly if Archeon would try to shrug him off mid-flight. With you there, however, the odds of that happening are slim to none.

It is only the brave who conquer.

“I would,” he says, but something in his voice betrays his lack of confidence.

“Archeon is gentle and kind,” you reassure. “He won’t harm you.”

Prince Aemond is by your side when you descend the slope of the hill towards your lounging dragon, who lifts his head only slightly at your approach. He locks eyes with the prince, and then immediately looks away, as if understanding what will soon be asked of him. His expression is neither here nor there; feelings on your betrothed are as of yet undecided.

Archeon senses your wish to mount, and lowers his shoulder to the ground without quarrel. He is vocal, Prince Aemond notices -- very much so. Your dragon often clicks and coos at you in a warm way that speaks volumes of his affection. His size makes it a jarring noise to hear -- something so tender rising up from the pit of a colossal beast.

You climb up onto his front foot, hoisting yourself up his shoulder, and scaling the sheer size of his body with practised ease. Where Prince Aemond uses ropes to mount Vhagar, you use Archeon’s horns. The dragons helps you out when he feels you lose momentum, nudging you upwards softly with his head, and when you make it to the saddle, you seat yourself with ease. Then, you glance down at him expectantly. You’re so high up, he can barely make out the details of your face.

He’s having second thoughts, and chances a sideways look to Archeon. The dragon blinks at him expressionless, as if he wishes to tell him to hurry up and get on with it. With caution and nerves suppressed, he makes towards your dragons foot.

To his surprise, there is no derisive snort, nor warning growl when Prince Aemond climbs up onto your beast. There is no move made to shake him off, nor fiery breath tunnelled towards him. In fact, Archeon seems pacified, content in the happenings around him, and soon, the prince is cresting his back, and making towards the saddle.

He feels awkward, hesitating slightly, but when you shuffle forwards to give him more space, he settles quickly behind you, chest tight against your back.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he says, voice unsteady and full of embarrassment.

You grasp the silver handles of the saddle, glancing back at Prince Aemond as Archeon begins to rise.

“You may hold onto me if you wish, my prince,” you offer, “The situation is one that demands it for your own safety, so I do not mind.”

Archeon roars loud, spreading his wings, and Prince Aemond grasps onto you swiftly with understandable fright when your dragon launches himself upwards. The force pushes you deep into the saddle, and you slide backwards into the princes chest. The clearing beneath you grows smaller the further and higher Archeon climbs, until your horses are no longer visible, the hill disappears behind clouds, and even the forest itself seems like a forgotten memory.

Wind whips at your cheeks, rushes through your hair, and the feeling of being held tightly by the prince sets your soul ablaze. Archeon climbs higher, and higher still, vocalising loudly, beating his wings with a force that sounds like thunder, and then, as if in a fit of ill temper, snaps his jaws. He dips his head, body following suit, and plummets to the earth below.

Your dragon dives sharply, free falling, tucking his wings in close to his body to speed up his descent, and Prince Aemond releases a worrying cry, arms hugging you tighter out of sheer reflex. Archeon is falling at a terrifying speed, the forest reappears as he exits the clouds, and rushes up to greet you quickly.

“Don’t be afraid!” You place a hand over the princes iron-clad grip on your waist. “Don’t be afraid!”

And then, you let go.

Here, you have no chains, no expectations, no duty. Here you are not the last daughter, nor sole hope of your people. Here, in this moment, you are free. All that matters is your dragon, your prince, and you.

Archeon levels immediately, and spreads his wings like you do your arms. As if you, yourself are flying. He roars, and you cry out with joy, soaring over the Kingswood. The feeling is like nothing on earth. Archeon flies steady, gliding through the skies, taking you higher, keeping his balance, and you yell out, unable to contain the bubbling exhilaration within you. You look over your shoulder at Prince Aemond, and the man seems as delighted to be here as you are; wide grin that reaches all the way to his eye spreads across his face, and he looks full of youth and happiness.

He finds the courage to let go of your waist, and spreads his arms out to his side, following your lead, and everything is impossibly more staggering, more breath-taking, more incredible. Archeon himself responds to the princes bravery; chittering at the trust shown in himself, in you, in the bond.

In that moment, Prince Aemond forgets everything. Here, there is no crown, no succession, no trauma, no injury, no pain. There is only you, and the way you’re looking at him. It's like he’s the most important person in the world to you. The most precious.

You reach down to pet the scales beside your saddle, praising your dragon for his wonder, and then, you actively lean back against Prince Aemond. You’re laughing, settling into his chest like it’s your homeland. You are truly unlike any woman he’s ever met. He could travel the world, live a thousand lifetimes, and never know anyone quite like you.

Despite his efforts, he cannot deny the truth.

He is falling in love with you with no way to stop.

The thought both terrifies him, and sets him free.

——————

Night has fallen by the time Prince Aemond decides to visit Vhagar.

She is already fast asleep by the time he arrives, but rouses slowly upon his approach. He climbs the ropes by her neck, hoisting himself upwards to his saddle, and commands her to fly. She is irritable in her old age, but follows his order with little to no quarrel, and soon, he is flying her over the Kingsland to clear his mind.

Since he parted with you earlier, he has thought about nothing else.

You make him feel a way no one ever has.

He is like a dog, he thinks, in the way he yearns for your approval. Where he avoided your eyes before, now, he cannot look away. He is always searching for your gaze, and when you meet it, he ignites.

He had no weaknesses before you. None. He did not care at all for the feelings of others, and did not concern himself with their opinions. He took pride in speaking and acting however he pleased. The vicious one-eyed, the bringer of fire and fury, the monster of house Targaryen.

Now, his biggest weakness walks outside his body, and takes your form. You look at him like he is worth something, like he is only yours. Like you care about him.

If you forsake him, there would be no coming back from that place. He would be utterly destroyed. There is still time, he thinks, to drag himself back from the point of no return.

Vhagar voices the pain he cannot bring himself to utter in a hollow wail.

He settles on it then.

He will devote himself to his grandfathers plan. He will side with his mother. He will be the one to inflict the first wound, striking fast before you get a chance to do the same to him. You will, of course. There is no if. People like him will never obtain true happiness.

He'll find your dragons -- every last one.

And he’ll kill them.

[part 10]

dorothea (part four of five) | h. targaryen

Description: Helaena calls her again and revelations occur. Pairing: helaena targaryen/cam-girl!reader part three

Helaena's eyes were transfixed on her body, dancing through the laptop screen like a temptress. Her body was perfect - smooth and silky. Pure sexual energy exuded from her - permeating through the air and entering Helaena's lungs.

'We could have been so good together,'

The music on her laptop plays while she dances gracefully.

'We could have lived this dance forever.'

The music fades signaling the end of her dance. "You were good," Helaena opens her mouth - making sure to maintain the changes in her voice. "Thanks," she adjusted her mask, sitting down on the floor and keeping the camera down-set.

"Is there anything else you want to do?" she inquires, wanting Helaena to return as a customer. "Nothing much - just talking." she replies, playing with the small keychain on her lap. "I don't know if I'm the first person to ever feel guilty doing this," Helaena chuckles, and Dorothea's posture softens.

"Guilty going to onlyfans and buying a cam-girl?" she teases lightly, trying to understand the other woman's guilt. "I was raised in a Catholic household - even kissing videos are forbidden here," Helaena laughs - keeping her voice low.

"Well there's nothing wrong with what you're doing." Dorothea antagonized, resting her hands on the coffee table. "It's perfectly normal to have urges - even if it's for women." she cooed, a smile finds itself painted on Helaena's lips.

"Hmm, I guess - but it'll take years to get this mindset out." Helaena replies, still playing with the keychain on her lap. "I can help you," Dorothea replies - in a tone that sounded familiar.

Like your voice.

"How will you do that?" she inquires - eyes raised in pique interest. "I'll be very seductive - you'll have no choice but to succumb," she jokes lifting her camera by a few centimeters.

Helaena's eyes trail towards the background.

Freezing as she sees the familiar black and red painting that she made for you.

yourinstagram: So much power in one frame. If you stare at it long enough the universe starts to unravel itself. Thank you for this @toelicker69 i'm bringing it home with me 🫶🏾

8 comments 198 likes

toelicker69: happy to give it ✨ -yourinstagram: i love it sm

LaenorVelaryon: this is what kids call 'eating' 🥰 - jacejacejacey: dad, the proper sentence is: you ate 💅🏻 - LaenorVelaryon: ✅

(A/N: Painting by Jean Soyer - Small Deep Red Orange Black and Grey Squared Abstract Oil Painting)

There was a crisis at hand. Helaena had her suspicions a few days ago - but now everything began to make sense.

She always wondered how you could afford all those luxury bags. A small groan escapes her mouth, staring at her phone and contemplating on whether or not she should call you. What would she say anyways? 'Hey I accidentally fantasized about you. Please keep the $200 dollars as a token of my apologies.'

Plus, you were still under the impression that she was straight.

"What the fuck am I going to do?" she cursed to herself, running her fingers through her silver locks.

You still on for tomorrow?

She reads the message - and her heart begun to thump furiously. She doesn't reply to Dorothea. She reaches for her phone and begins typing for your number.

Y/N, let's hang out tomorrow ✨

She typed - fiddling with the keychain and waiting for your reply.

sure, were we going? where*

Somewhere nice. It's so boooring here

ok, i'll pick u up after lunch

A sigh of relief exits her mouth - seeing that everything was according to plan. She looks to her side - typing at her laptop.

I'm still on for tomorrow. Possibly 12 or 1?

Oh, sorry I'm booked at that time. Maybe the next day?

Helaena bites the inner corner of her lips. Her assumptions were true - you were Dorothea Mae.

aegon.hightower: not cute, might delete later 🥺

12 comments 1,293 likes

toelicker69: friendly reminder to sleep with one eye open - aegon.hightower: pretty sure that aemond already does that for us 🤣

daeronronie: HAHAHAHAHALSLSLSLSLS - toelicker69: I'M POSTING YOUR SLEEPING PICS 🤬 - aegon.hightower: the one where he was sleeping beside mommy - toelicker69: HAHAHAHAHALSLSLSLSLS (1)

part four

@watercolorskyy @bellastwd @nyctophilicvitnir @sweethoneyblossom1 @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @dahlias-and-marigolds

the heir - daenerys targaryen x oc

Summary: when a descendant of the blackfyre name makes a deal with the true heir to the iron throne, she only wishes to kill the current king, not fall in love with a future queen

a/n: I have found a new hyperfixation, and this is a new asoiaf fic im writing on ao3

Pairing: daenerys targaryen x blackfyre oc

i ii iii

Daenerys never liked the life she came to live. She and Viserys were in exile. He spoke of taking back his rightful kingdom, and it was hard to hear him speak of her as nothing but a pawn. But one day, she felt a shift. It was when the Magister had introduced Viserys to a woman. Daenerys wasn't invited to listen to their conversation, but she was there, and she remembered her name.

Calla Blackfyre, second of her name.

She'd never seen Viserys so excited to hear the name. "She is one of us, Daenerys.." Daenerys didn't know much about the Blackfyres and their relation to the Targaryens except that they were said to have died decades ago.

"I know you seem skeptical of my origins, but my mother had me and my brother with Maelys Blackfyre before his death in the Stepstones."

"And who is your brother?"

"Daemon Blackfyre, fourth of his name. But he is no longer with us." Viserys nods, noting that yet again the male Blackfyre line ceases to exist.

"And why do you wish to fight for me, Calla?" Her eyes drift to Daenerys, who silently watches, and back to Viserys. "I wish to put Robert Baratheon's head on a spike." The man is so shocked by the answer that he smiles wildly, bursting out a laugh. He roughly pats her shoulder. "Great minds think alike. But I must inquire," Calla nods, watching his eyes drift to the sword.

He looks back up quickly and smiles wider. "Why do you hold such a grudge?"

"King Robert wishes to wipe us all out. I begged my mother as a child to let us have her name, but she refused. Despite my kinfolk, Daemon I, being a bastard, he believes we carry the spirit of the Dragon through our veins. My brother and I are bastards ourselves." Viserys hums.

"I know of a man with 100,000 men. An army that would crush the Baratheons and the Lannisters."

"Is that so?" Carra nods. "Khal Drogo, owes me."

"What will he bargain for?" The prince was desperate to make it back to King's Landing, and he will do anything to get there. No matter how desperate the way may be. Carra's eyes drift to Daenerys once more. "A wife." Viserys follows her gaze and looks back at Carra.

"Can I trust you?"

Not much more needed to be said when her leather-gloved hand shook his. Daenerys didn't appreciate being sold off in front of her, but it would take quite some time for this marriage to be arranged.

In the coming moons, Daenerys watched Carra. At night she'd look at the Narrow Sea, or simply sit anywhere and stare at the setting sun. One night, she became curious and went outside after her. "What is so compelling about the sunset that you wish to see it every night?" Carra didn't jump at the princess's soft tone, but smiled lightly and turns to look at her.

"When I was young, I lived in Winterfell. It's where my mother was born. She was visiting my grandmother when she met my father. Up until my 15th name day, I'd never seen the sun. It was either gloomy and wet, or snowy and wet." Daenerys chuckles, walking over. Carra scoots over so she can sit on the bench.

"I watch the sunset now because it brings me peace. Before I was told my birthright, I was a blacksmith in my younger years. That sounds insane, right? Six-year-old forges weapons fit for the Stark boys." She scoffs, looking back out to the sea. "Starks. If I were born Carra Tiren as I wished, my life would've been so simple."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, I do." She looks back over at her. "But you will never know. You are a Targaryen."

"And yet, you wield our weapon. Doesn't that make you a Targaryen, too? By default." She smiles, and Carra smiles back. "Blackfyre was wielded by Aegon the Conqueror and has been passed down for 200 years. It was hidden until my brother died at the hands of the King himself." The girl's hand drifts to Carra's knee.

"I'm sorry." Carra covers her hand with her own. "Don't be." She retracts it and leans back. "That oaf is paranoid. So convinced that even the bastard kin of a bastard would ever wish to rule."

"But I heard it was your birthright." Carra chuckles, nodding. "The Blackfyre Pretenders. Jaehaerys made sure that never continued." She sighs. "But enough politics. You asked me about my interest in the sunset?" She receives a nod in response.

"Well, when we moved to King's Landing, Daemon would climb onto the highest of buildings and watch it. We were there for my uncle, and there was nothing for us in Winterfell. We'd sneak into the brothels as we became grown."

"Brothels?" Daenerys smirks.

"We only watched. Daemon found a strange interest in larger women with humongous breasts." The girl beside her laughs. "My Gods, they were, just-" She chuckles, and the girl watches as Carra gains her mental image. "You'd be amazed."

"Would I?"

"Yeah." She pauses, a thought on her tongue. "God, I was knighted under my mother's name. Ser Carra Tiren."

"I thought you didn't use her name."

"We did, for a while. It was because of where we were. As I said, the oaf is quite paranoid. We were exposed as Maelys' children. My brother was no fighter, simply a butcher, and my mother helped my uncle with his tavern. They were executed, and I watched in disguise. "Anyone with the blood of a Targaryen, whether thick or thin, will die before me." He said. Takes the throne, and kills the ones who have the right to be on it. Spoken like a true king, a true usurper." The girl silently watches as Carra's eyes fall to the ground.

"Your family did not deserve to be executed, and it is not your fault." Carra clenches her jaw.

"He thought we would challenge. How? My brother was not fit to be king. He was no warrior—a skinny boy with bad eyes, and frail hands. I was taller and stronger, he was nothing but a sweet man. How could he look at him and think he'd even want to be on a throne? It should've been me."

"Carra-"

"I-When this is all over, and Viserys drives a sword through Robert's heart, I will live on a beach. Daemon wished to live on a beach."

"Maybe I could come with you." Carra scoffs playfully, and she looks at Daenerys. "You? The delicate flower? You'd leave your brother to be on your own?" The girl wanted to be offended, but Carra's smile was making it hard to.

"Yes! I am my person." Carra nods with a smirk. "Yeah, sure. But, I must warn you, princess, I am boring." Daenerys scoffs. "After all you've just told me, you think yourself boring spilling out your life story?" Carra shrugs.

"My brother had fun. He was handsome enough, so the young girls would fawn over him. He had friends and went to parties in the woods. I sat at home, and read. No boys liked me, although that never mattered much to me. Aside from my knighthood, I was pretty quiet, I had one friend."

"Well, tell me about them." Carra chuckles. "Her name was Alise. She was so smart, so cunning. We met when I first moved to King's Landing. I was ten, Daemon was twelve. One day a lord came and asked for me and my boss, Geron, to forge a sword fit for a warrior. For a fortnight we worked. He paid extra, and on breaks, while he spoke to Geron, Alise, and I played. We were friends until my family's execution. We saw each other one last time before I fled."

Although Carra didn't believe Daenerys to be completely idiotic, she just didn't want the princess to know of her dalliances. "I hear she is married to some pig in Casterly Rock." She turns toward Daenerys fully. "Why did you come out here? You should be asleep."

The blonde stares into Carra's brown eyes. "I don't know. I was curious as to why you spend your nights out here."

"Well, I'm glad. I've never told a stranger my life story." The girl smiles, holding Carra's hand in hers. "You are no longer a stranger, Carra. You are a friend."

"I don't have many of those."

I've read a lot about how it made no sense for the Tyrells to have commited to the Iron Throne after Aerys' disregard for noble rigths but recently I got thinking: did they really? After defeating the army of the most divided kingdom in the rebellion (considering how the Stormlands were prety fifty-fifty before Robert came around) the Reach just... sat outside of Storm's End feasting? Not to say Storm's End was not important to besiege, and Stannis refusing to back down certanly pinned the majority of Tyrell forces. But the Reach has what? 100,000 men plus 200 warships?

So, I wanted to hear your thoughts. Would besieging Storm's End really demand all of what the Reach had to offer? Or do you think the Tyrells were only half-commiting to see how the winds would blow like they (likely) did during the First Blackfyre, and besieging Storm's End was a good enough excuse to hold back?

No, I think the Tyrells were being rather cautious.

They sided with the Targaryens because they wanted royal favor and had received it in the past, but outside of defending the Reach itself at the Battle of Ashford, they were content to just besiege Storm's End - an unimpeachably loyal activity, but also a very low risk one that didn't involve sending their forces into the main theater of war in the Riverlands and neatly avoided most of the major battles of the war.

And at the end of the day, even though their side lost the war, the Tyrells weren't particularly harmed - they didn't lose territory that we know of, they didn't give up hostages that we know of, they didn't pay fines that we know of - because they didn't particularly piss off the rebels outside of Stannis.

People I write for

All are aged up. 18+ of over.

(I will be adding more soon.)

- All characters in shows/movies can be hybrids/monsters at some point. Here are rules where you can find out.

-All MHA characters are in a college version of U.A. Or above the age of 18+

House of the dragon:

Alient Hightower

Rhaenrya Targaryen

Jacaerys Velaryon

Aemond Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Poly: Jace+Aemond, Aemond+Aegon, Jace+Aemond+Aegon

(I have not read the books)

Percy Jackson (books/older versions)

Percy Jackson

Percabeth

Luke castellan

My hero academia:

Izuku midoriya

Shoto Todoroki

Eijiro Kirishima

Katsuki Bakugou

Bakusquad

Dekusquad

Any other characters could be included for HC’s if you ask.

Poly characters together to ;)

Shadow and bone:

Kaz brekker

Lockwood & Co

Anthony lockwood

Poly!Lockwood&lucy (with the reader)

Demon slayer

Tanjiro Kamado

Inosuke Hashibira

Tengen & Wives

Any other characters could be included for HC’s if you ask.

Monsters Oc’s:

Wolfs:

Nicholas/Nick Cooper: 25, male who lives in the woods outside the city alone. 6’6 in human form and 7 foot in werewolf form. Has fluffy short brown hair, brown and orange eyes, muscles for days including: Thighs, Torso, Arms. Tanned white skin, freckles from how long he’s been in the sun. Personality: Possessive, but kind and has a nice smile which turns into a smirk, likes to joke and laugh around. Lonely.

Taylor Jones: 23, female who lives with her pack in a southern town. 6’2 in human form and 6’8 in werewolf form. Has half of her head shaven but black medium hair, muscles in her legs and light abs and every where else. Paler skin then nicks but still has a tan, no freckles, brown eyes, but a few scars, one on her arm, above her eye, one on her waist. Personality: Likes to shows she’s the boss, has a soft spot for people smaller then her, teasing, jokes, sighs to show she’s the alpha of the group. Treats her pack and friends well, will become a body guard for anyone in help.

Naga Oc’s:

In this world my nagas will live up too 200 years older if they found a mate by then. Most naga’s die when their young are 50 or older. If a Naha hasn’t found a mate it will die quicker then the others. Longest naga to live was 220 years old. (All of this is just for my world this is not a fact. So not come after me, just doing this for fun)

Zauhra/Zara Cushissus: 100 years old, male, lives alone in a cave with his treasures near a water fall where the humans come around to get water. 9 feet tall, his tail is 5 feet and has blue and white scales. White pale skin with gold markings on his skin, white short/medium hair and green eyes, wears a lot of gold jewelry. Personality: Goofy, happy and very curious, very possessive to his mate but also very loving. A sweetheart but don’t mess with him.

Other characters and shows:

Steve harrington- Stranger things.

episode 10 rant (spoilers obvi)

What they did to Daemon, Rhaenyra and Aemond was not character assassination. And let's be honest, some of y'all would've been mad regardless of what they decided to do. Sometimes I think we're not watching the same show and didn't read the same book, cause goddamn. Every single character in this story has their flaws and most of them are not good (there's a few that are the exception).

Daemon has been chaotic and unpredictable since the beginning. He's a murderer, has committed war crimes and he's a groomer. And hate to break it to you, but them cutting out that scene of him hugging the girls means nothing, cause him hugging his daughters is literally the bare minimum and it doesn't make him "a good dad". Daemon has never been the good guy, so why are you saying they are "making him into a villain"? Are you actually surprised of what he did during Rhaenyra's labor? He wanted war, immediately. Also, him choking her. His daughter died in childbirth, he thinks his brother was murdered plus also found out that Viserys didn't trust him with the prophecy. Choking her is obviously not acceptable but that's the most sane thing he could've done and you know it.

Rhaenyra isn't weak. She lost TWO CHILDREN in the span of two days, her father died and she wasn't there and her half-brother took the throne. Like wouldn't you be fucking tired? That sounds exhausting.

I feel that Lucerys' death being an accident is better for the show, honestly. Vhagar not listening to Aemond and Arrax not listening to Luke kinda makes sense. One is a battle hardened dragon thats almost 200 years old and the other is a juvenile dragon that's maybe 14 or less. Obviously Arrax felt threatened, Vhagar is an absolute beast.

"The idea that we can control dragons is an illusion." - Viserys Targaryen in HOTD episode 1 at 58:06

The season finale was good. If it didn't have what you wanted is something completely different. And it's not "bad as season 8", so those comparisons are bullshit.