#Riot of King's Landing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachessndreamss · 5 months

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A Rose by Any Other Name.

Summery : Princes Aegon and Aemond visit Highgarden to broker a marriage contract for the younger brother, while there Aemond finds himself in need of relief and doesn't care who with.

Characters : Aemond Targaryen x f!Tyrell reader

Warnings : Dub Con, abuse of title/rank, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, derogatory terms for women, alcohol consumption, cannon divergent, Aegon slander

Word count : 4.5 k

A/N : Sometimes my dreams are the unlimited pasta caste and sometimes they're this, sorry. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

The ground of a Highgarden stable yard was a mess of mud and straw as the eldest Tyrell daughter rode her horse sedately out of the stables and toward the open door of the outer keep. There had been days of fresh spring rains which had soaked the earth, swollen the rivers and brought the Reach alive in a riot of colour, from the azure blue of the sky to the lush green of the grasses in the animal fields and every colour of the rainbow in the food and flowers that grew and ripened under the warming sun.

“Outriders say the Princes are only a few hours away if the good weather holds so don’t go far,” the horse master reminded her.

“I’ll not go far,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, the route she’d already set on in her mind was several hours over the roughest terrain the estate of Highgarden had to offer and would have her coming home a good while after the Targaryen visitors had arrived. She had no desire to stand in the muddy yard with her siblings to greet the princes when their wheelhouse rolled in.

Her father had started brokering the marriage contract over 9 months before, ravens flew back and forth between Highgarden and Kings Landing as her father bartered, first, with the Hand of the King and then with Queen Alicent. She’d looked through the letters herself, working out just how much she was worth to her father and the Targaryens. Finally the Queen suggested Aegon and Aemond visit the Reach themselves to complete negotiations and hold a formal betrothal.

If she was going to be sold off to Aemond Targaryen like a cow at a market she would at least spend her final day as an unbetrothed woman in the way she enjoyed the most. As she passed under the gate the horse beneath her gave a shiver of anticipation, as they turned toward the East and the low spring sun that dazzled her eyes the horse gave a snort of impatience.

Despite the lack of visibility Lady Tyrell angled the horse toward a small cluster of woods she knew were on the horizon, she clicked her tongue and gave the horse a short squeeze with her thighs. At this the horse broke into a trot and soon they were hidden by the sun and quickly disappearing over the horizon.

In the West, still 10 or so miles from Highgarden, the royal wheelhouse shuddered and bounced over the pitted road, shaking the two occupants and further fraying delicate nerves.

Aegon groaned and gripped at the set beneath him, his head hanging low and his eyes closed tightly as he tried to stop feeling like his head and body were moving in different directions.

“I can’t see why we couldn’t come on dragonback,” Aegon groaned as he fought the urge to vomit again.

Aemond remained in stoney silence, seething at his older brother and the despicable mess he was. The night before they had slept in a tavern on the edge of the Reach. Aegon has drunk his way through an entire barrel of rose wine and was found in the morning asleep in the stable between two sheep. The smell of him, a mix of spilt wine and sheep shit made Aemond's stomach roll.

“Isn't there some high born hole you can marry in Kings Landing?” Aegon complained as the wheelhouse gave a lurch and bumped over the poorly maintained track.

“Cease your incessant whining,” Aemond finally snapped, kicking his brother in the leg.

“Why did I have to come?” Aegon muttered, rubbing at his calf and glaring at Aemond through the lank locks of hair that had fallen over his face.

“I would have paid good money to leave you behind,” Aemond replied coldly.

“Why didn't you?!”.

“Mother insisted,” Aemond shrugged and turned away from his brother, pulling the window cover back with a long finger and watching disinterestedly at the countryside rolling by. If he ended up marrying into the Lords of this land, the first thing he'd insist on was better roads.

The wheelhouse turned sharply and Aegon groaned again, stuffing his cloak into his mouth to fight the nausea. Once it had passed he spit the fabric out, it tasted like sheep and possibly his piss.

“I fucking hope she's worth it,” he hissed.

The lady returned to Highgarden even later than she'd intended and in a far worse state. Her usually sure mount had startled while riding through a wooded area and thrown her off his back into a sticky quagmire, she’d landed mostly on her back and left side, the clothes had become soaked in mud that had been almost impossible to get off when it was wet. She had washed the worst of it off her face and hands in a small stream but her riding clothes remained caked in the muck.

“My Lady, what happened?” The horse master exclaimed as she trotted the beast into the stables.

“He threw me is all, no lasting damage done,” she replied as she dismounted and patted the horse's neck lovingly.

“Are they here?” She asked after a moment of heavy silence.

“Your father's taken them to his solar, he's not happy you weren't here to greet them,”.

She nodded sharply and handed the reins of the horse over to a stableboy.

“Plenty of hay, water and a few of those early golden apples,” she instructed before turning and heading into the yard.

She entered the building through a servants door, knowing she could make a path between there and her own rooms that wouldn't put her anywhere near her father's solar. She could be washed and changed and ready to entertain Princes long before dinner was served.

She stepped into a small anteroom off the kitchens where she knew she could take off her ruined riding gear, stripping down to her small clothes and riding boots, she left everything in a pile, making a note to tell her maidservant about it as soon as she saw the woman. She couldn't well wander the halls of Highgarden in her shift so she took a clean servants dress from the stack in the corner and pulled the shapeless linen over her head, tying it around the middle with a belt of braided cord. She splashed icy water on her face and did her best to tuck any loose hairs back into their braid before setting off for her rooms.

She'd almost made it back to her own chambers when a voice from behind spoke.

“Girl, come here,” it commanded and she stopped in her tracks.

No one in her father's household would speak to her like that, even if she was dressed as a servant. She turned slowly, the blood racing to her face when she looked at Aemond Targaryen for the first time.

He was still dressed for travel, with black leather trousers and a similarly hardy jacket with a high collar. The patch over his eye hid most of the damage but the deep red scar extended up his forehead and down his cheek, the only mark she could see on his otherwise glass clear skin. There was no flicker of recognition on his face, he obviously had no idea who he was speaking to.

“Come here,” he ordered again when she'd not moved toward him.

She opened her mouth to protest, to ask him who he thought he was speaking to but she stopped, closing her mouth and moving toward him. If she was going to marry this man she wanted to know what type of man he was and how better to learn than to see how he treated servants.

As she moved toward him she kept her eyes downcast, despite being desperate to look at his face in greater detail.

“What can I do for you, my Prince?” She asked meekly.

“Come with me,” he replied bluntly and turned, striding down the wide and brightly lit corridor toward the rooms that had been prepared for the two visiting royals.

At the door to his room he pushed it open and stepped back to allow her inside first before following and closing the door tightly behind the two of them. The sound of the latch clicking into place made her heart pound, she'd never been alone with a man before, she'd always been accompanied by her ladies or sisters but now she was alone in the guest wing behind a closed door.

She stood in the centre of the main room, a fire burned merrily in the grate and the Prince’s trunk stood open at the foot of the bed. She looked up at him from under her lashes and caught sight of his deep indigo eye watching her.

“Wh-what can I do for you?” She asked again, he'd catch on pretty quickly she wasn't part of the serving staff if he asked her to do much more than pour a glass of wine.

“I'm in need of some relief,” he said softly, his left hand moving instinctively toward the laced fount of his trousers and his fingers twitched.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes following the movement of his hand before snapping back to his face.

“I don't understand your meaning, my Prince,” she said softly, although she was fairly certain she did.

She had been raised her entire life in the safety and beauty of Highgarden, her innocence protected at all costs and her exposure to men limited as far as possible, but she still knew what men and women did together in the privacy of their bed chambers.

“The journey here was long and difficult and my brother is a terrible travelling companion, so before I meet with your sweet lady this evening and make dull small talk for hours I need you to get on your knees, open your mouth and suck my cock,”.

A shiver crawled across her body, she'd never been spoken to like that before and after the initial shock of his crass words she found herself excited by them. But while his words were exciting the reality of what he wanted was frightening, she could tell him who she really was and face the consequences of running around dressed as a servant and tricking a prince or she could do what he asked and face any additional consequences of sucking his cock and having to make dull small talk with him later.

“Did you hear me?” He demanded, his voice harsher now, “get on your knees, I've got no time for your wide-eyed innocent act,”.

“But, my Prince, I've never-,”.

He cut her off mid-sentence, anger flashing across his face.

“Get on your knees,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

The anger on his face and in his voice sent a thrill up and down her spine, making the tips of her toes and fingers tingle with anticipation.

Slowly she lowered herself to her knees, the thin and rough fabric of the dress rubbed uncomfortably on her knees and the cold of the stone floor seemed to soak into her skin like water.

“So you do understand, stupid little slut,” he muttered, moving toward her while unfastening the laces of his breeches.

She watched with wide eyes as he pulled his cock free from the fabric of his trousers and pumped his hand up and down the thick muscle. By instinct her mouth filled with saliva and she felt a rush of wetness and heat between her thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before doing as she'd been told, parting her lips and teeth as he came to stand directly in front of her, the head of his cock now bobbing directly in her eye line. There was a bead of clear fluid slipping from the thin slit at the head, she fought the urge to lean toward and lick it up.

The head of his cock was a dark red colour, completely in opposition to the alabaster white skin of his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed.

“Keep it open,” he said as he angled the shaft toward her lips.

This was her last opportunity, the very last second she could back out, tell him who she was, run screaming from the room but instead she relaxed her jaw a little and allowed him to push the head of his cock into her waiting mouth.

His own mouth dropped open in a soft moan as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped his aching cock. He pushed his hips forward, forcing as much of himself between her lips as she could take, the soft, slick slide of her tongue on the underside of his shaft made his toes curl up in his boots.

Her hands went to the front of his thighs and she braced her open palms against the leather, her fingers moulding to the shape of his lithe legs. He could feel the heat from her hands and the gentle curl of her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches.

He drew back a little, feeling the warm suck of her soft mouth, he pushed one hand into the soft tangle of her hair and gripped.

“That's it,” he breathed as he pushed forward again, “take it,”.

Holding her head steady he pumped his cock between her lips, very quickly he was soaked from root to tip with her saliva and he watched transfixed as it slipped down her chin and wetted the rough fabric of her dress.

Tears were forming in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks as he fucked her mouth. The musky and masculine smell of him filled her nose as the salty taste of his bare skin on her tongue made her head spin.

Part of her was disgusted, she was a lady and possibly a future princess but she was on her knees getting her mouth fucked bya man who thought she was a servant. A much larger part of her thought this was the most erotic thing that could ever happen, her cunt was pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart, she wanted nothing more than to shove her fingers between her legs and bring herself to completion, or even better, take Aemond’s fingers and use them.

“You cock hungry little slut,” he hissed as he forced his cock deeper than any thrust before.

She choked, feeling her body suddenly gag at the intrusion so deep into her mouth. She tore herself away from him, gasping for breath. There was pain where he was clinging onto her hair, pulling it hard between his lean fingers.

“Too much for the little whore?” He sneered, cold laughter on his beautiful face.

She nodded as he brought the hand that wasn't still tangled in her hair to her cheek and brushed away her tears.

“Finish me off and you'll be free to go,” he said, pulling her back to him and pressing the head of his cock against her lips.

She opened her mouth willingly and allowed him to continue, pumping faster but not as deeply as before, he began to pant and groan at every pass of her wet lips.

“Fucking take it,” he panted, “take it, take it,”.

With a final shuddering, stuttering thrust she felt his cock kick in her mouth before her tongue was flooded with salty, bitter fluid. She kept her mouth closed around his shaft as his seed escaped between her lips and dripped onto her chest.

“Swallow it,” he whispered, unable to take his gaze from her dripping mouth.

He watched as her throat bobbed and she swallowed his remaining seed before leaning back and gazing up at him. Her cheeks were marked with the tracks of her tears and her mouth and chin were wet with his spend and her own spit. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips and gathered a drop of him before disappearing again between her used lips.

Aemond's cock was now rapidly softening and she watched with fascination as the long, thick muscle seemed to retreat back toward his body, the hot, round head disappearing under a hood of skin.

He tucked his cock back into his breeches before reaching down and brushing his thumb across her lips, his touch surprisingly tender.

“You can go,” he said bluntly before stepping away from her and turning his back.

She sprang to her feet and dashed to the bedroom door, yanking it open and not bothering to close it behind herself as she raced toward the sanctuary of her own rooms. The soles of her riding boots seemed to boom on the hard stone floor and she believed as if everyone in the castle would hear her desperate escape.

Although she kept her head down and didn't acknowledge anyone she passed she felt as if she'd been branded across the face with the awful names he'd called her. Surely everyone she passed knew what she'd just been doing.

Her heart was thundering and her cunt pounding, the sensations she'd never felt before were making her head spin. Once she was in the safety of her own room she threw herself onto the bed and drove her fingers between the slick lips of her cunt with an urgency she'd never known. She bit into the feather pillow as she brought herself to orgasm within moments of touching the throbbing and engorged pearl between her legs.

She lay panting on the bed, the smell of him still clinging to her like perfume, now mixing with the smell of her own arousal.

Her ears still burned with the names he'd called her, she should feel humiliated and insulted but instead she longed to hear those names again. She longed to taste his cock again and then to explore his body, to take time to undress him, observe him and touch him. She wanted him to do the same with her, call her names, strip her naked and explore her virgin body without restraint.

When her maidservant arrived to get her dressed for dinner she could barely lift her head from the bed. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the sheets and touch herself again and again while images of the prince flashed through her mind.

She was scrubbed clean in the bath, her hair washed and treated with sweet smelling oils. Her maidservant noted the bruises where she'd been thrown by her horse, but the marks on her knees were harder to explain away.

She was dressed in a gold and green gown embroidered with roses, the usual soft cotton and silk felt like sand abrading her skin. She insisted her hair be styled in the same way it had been when she went riding, in case the Prince didn't recognise the lady he was forced to make small talk with.

She waited by the door to the great hall, the princes had been announced and seated, then her father and his wife, her siblings next and finally it was her turn. Her name was called and she stepped into the hall. The room was full of the great and good of the Reach sitting on the tables that filled the room, at the top table, positioned above the others on a dais sat her family and Prince Aegon and Aemond.

She looked directly at Prince Aemond as she walked toward the top table. There was a flicker of recognition followed by a moment of complete horror before he took back control of his face, a mask of neutral passiveness dropping over his features. She took her seat between the prince and her young sister.

“My Lady,” he greeted softly.

“Prince Aemond,” she replied.

“Prince Aegon,” she added, leaning around Aemond to address his brother who only nodded in acknowledgement, he was swaying gently in his seat and his eyes were glazed over.

Aemond could have throttled his older brother for being drunk before the meal had been served.

“It's a pleasure to meet you my Lady,” Aemond said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied politely, “but I do hope my small talk doesn't bore you,” she added, dropping her voice so only he could hear. She enjoyed the look of mild panic that crossed his face before she turned to speak with her sister.

As the food was served the noise levels in the hall increased and she felt able to return to speaking with Aemond without being overheard.

“How have you found Highgarden so far?” She asked.

“Most accommodating,” he replied, taking a sip of rose wine.

“Please forgive me if this question is indelicate,” she started, running the tips of her fingers up and down the thin stem of her wine glass, “if we're to marry, do you intend on taking your pleasure with the servants or your wife?”.

The hand holding Aemond's wine goblet visibly shook before he placed it back on the table. He cleared his throat and turned his eye to the woman beside him.

“I would take my pleasure nowhere but my wife, and she would take a great deal of pleasure with me,”.

“Because if I were your wife and found you'd been sticking your prick in the serving girls I'd bite it off,” she said as softly as possible.

Aemond cleared his throat again and gave a small inclination of his head.

“Understood, my Lady,”.

After the meal there was music and dancing. As expected of her, she danced with her father and her brothers. She'd expected to have to dance with Prince Aegon as well but he was too drunk to stand straight let alone follow the steps. Aemond, on the other hand, was everything a prince should be, dancing with her step mother and sisters before asking her to dance.

The music changed to a fast paced peasant tune that meant they needed to dance in a small circle of others before being paired off. Once alone and moving around the floor they were able to speak again.

“I just want you to know,” she started as she stepped around him, before coming to face him, their toes almost touching, she looked up at him, taking in the curve of his lips and a sharp shape of his chin, “the way you spoke to me, when you thought I was a serving girl made my cunt ache,”.

She went to twist away from him to continue the dance with the man beside him but he caught her hand and held her, letting her twirl around him again. The line of dancers they were part of muttered and tutted as they scrambled to sort themselves without the Prince and his lady.

When they were face to face again Aemond held her still, placing his hands on her waist.

“When you are my wife, it will be my utmost honour to make your cunt ache every day,” he breathed before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before adding “my slut,”.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine and settled deep in her belly, making her cunt throb again. If she really was a slut she could drag him away somewhere quiet and make him repay her in kind for earlier but she was a lady, and he was prince and they were in a room full of gossiping courtiers.

“Is that a formal proposal?” She asked as he straightened.

“I think it is,” he replied, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“Then I accept,” she said, before twisting around him again in time with the music.

The other dancers had moved on, leaving the two of them in their own space on the floor, undisturbed by anyone else. The swirling dancers around them made it feel like they were the only two people in the room, trapped by a colourful snow storm.

Aemond didn't care that he wasn't in a position to officially offer marriage to her yet, his meeting with her father hadn't straightened out all the details but suddenly the dowry, the lands and the titles of their future children didn't matter anymore, these details were nothing compared to how badly he wanted to take her to wife.

The song ended in a final flourish and the dancers clapped and called out requests for the next piece of music.

“Another dance? I certainly prefer it to small talk,” she teased with a smile as the music started again and the dancers around them took their places.

“And is there something else you’d enjoy even more than dancing?” he asked before bowing to her and offering her his hand.

Her neck flushed with heat as she took his hand and the two of them moved in a slow circle.

“There are many things I enjoy more than dancing, my Prince, and I suspect you’ll show me a great many more,”

For the rest of the night Prince Aemond danced with no one else and while it certainly earned some raised eyebrows from the more modest members of the Highgarden court neither Lady Tyrell or Aemond could bring themselves to care. They only had eyes for one another and as they danced the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

At the top table Lord Tyrell watched his daughter and the prince with great interest. He was thinking he might have saved himself 9 months of bartering, letter writing and hand wringing if he’d just invited the prince to visit in the first instance.

“They make a fair couple, don’t they?” his lady wife asked from beside him.

“When I met with him this afternoon I’d never have believed he could be so taken with her,” Lord Tyrell said, “he was so cold I didn’t think he could look at someone with anything other than contempt but she seems to have won him over,”.

It was the small hour of the next morning by the time the music and dancing ended. Lord Tyrell and his lady had gone to bed hours before but the revelry had continued. Prince Aegon had staggered from the table and made toward a door at the side of the hall, he’d only made it through the door before tripping on his feet, falling on his face and deciding to stay there.

As the musicians played their final notes prince Aemond kissed the back of his lady’s hand, looking up at her and smiling.

“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said softly, she opened her mouth to reply but he pulled her toward him, bringing his cheek to hers, his lips touching the shell of her ear, “my whore,”.

additional A/N : this has the potential for a part two if anyone's interested? Just putting it out there, letting the universe know.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 months

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Perzys Ānogār

16/12: In Nature & Deep Throating - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.8k~ | Warnings: deep throating, face fucking, incest (reader is a strong!niece), dubcon, breath play

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

To be Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter was a power only she possessed.

While the weight of being the heir to the Iron Throne fell to Jacaerys, the unbearable burden bearing down on him throughout his life, she was exempt. And only at the mercy of being mere minutes younger than her twin.

Sometimes she wonders. Had she been born first, would all this still have happened?

Probably, she mused.

And yet another question always followed. Would Rhaenyra have named her heir? Had she been the first born child, with her dark hair and blue eyes, conveniently matching those features of the former Commander of the City Watch, would her mother have fought so thoroughly for her birthright?

If that had been the case, the realm would never have allowed it.

A bastard and a woman? There’d be riots from Winterfell to the Reach.

She was grateful to be born second. Although, it made the situation no easier.

In his eyes, she was still a bastard. The daughter of his whore sister, who is still attempting to steal his brother’s throne by gathering banners from houses who once swore their loyalty to her mother, years before her birth.

Aemond Targaryen always had a strange relationship with his niece and nephews. Though for the nephews it was easy to identify. Full to the brim with hate, no doubt assisted by the fact Luke had taken Aemond’s eye not a decade before, and never for one moment missing an opportunity to remind them what they all were.

Strong bastards.

He saw his nephews like they were shit at the bottom of his shoe. Unworthy of the positions they were born into.

His relationship with her felt different. Almost to the point of being unexplainable.

When she was a child, though not friendly, there was a noticeable lack of pure animosity towards her compared to her brothers. Aemond would sometimes, though rare, make an effort. But most often, she was either dragged away by her mother, or he was, neither former-friends comfortable with allowing their most precious of children to co-exist like friends.

Like family.

It was only when she returned to King’s Landing, a decade older and brimming with womanly features and assets into her dresses that she noticed something was different about her Uncle. She scarcely believed it was him. Tall, lean and skilled with the sword despite his possession of only one eye. And she was ashamed to say it, but she felt her stomach flutter slightly at the sight of him, one lilac eye locked onto her, and a smirk tugging at his lips as he cocked his head the way he always did when he saw something amusing.

There was something different about seeing him when they were both grown. Something else about the way he observed her over the rim of his cup, and the way his eyelid on his one good eye hooded slightly over the colour of his iris.

It made her throat go dry.

As her head throbs, vision blurred as she stares at the stormy skies above, she feels like being in Storm’s End was a lifetime ago, though it had barely even been a few hours.

Aemond had prodded her, to see if she would bite. Had tried to whore himself out to Floris Baratheon, as she had done to Lord Borros, to attempt to win favour with their house by way of marriage, knowing he had lost his wife years prior.

And he had most of all, threatened to take something from her, something only she could give him, as payment for the debt Lucerys had made by slicing Aemond’s eye at Driftmark all those years ago.

Though he did not elaborate, she need not ask.

She felt her blood chill in her veins, her feet primed to run when Aemond broke into a walk towards her, bending to pluck the dagger he’d thrown to the floor. Her fingers clumsily wrapped around her own dagger at her side, being too slight for a sword, as her only protection.

She didn’t anticipate Aemond would be stupid enough to follow her. But then again, she was wrong about a lot of things when it came to her estranged Uncle.

Her muscles ached as she pulled herself to sit up, the wind nipping at the sensitive skin on her cheeks, pounded with raindrops that felt like ice. Hastily, she threw the chain that still connected her to her now-deceased dragon to the side, having been brought down through the skies still bound to the harness.

Vhagar had sliced through her dragon’s neck with her sharpened, old teeth. The poor thing was probably dead long before she hit the ground. Perhaps it was a mercy of sorts.

She felt her breath hot in her chest as she saw her dragon being licked by the lazy waves, its corpse half in the raging sea and half draped across the jagged rocks of whatever island they’d fallen to. Tears build behind her eyes at the sight. Her dragon had hatched in her cradle, and was therefore still small. Far too small against the likes of Vhagar.

She’s about to tell herself to not cry, to not let emotions run her like men often profile women to do, when she hears the distinct flap of Vhagar’s wings as she lands with a mighty thud on the other end of the island. So big, if she extended herself enough, she’d be nearly as big as.

The white flash of damp hair was the first thing she saw when Vhagar bowed her head to the ground, and his stoic, firm face, looking scornfully down at her in a way that stole the breath from her lungs.

Her shoes slid on the wet dirt with the rain pelting down as she moved to stand, her legs weakly unable to carry her weight. Her hands were coated with mud. But all she heard was the hammering of the storm and Aemond’s damp footsteps as they became ever louder.

She winced when she felt his icy, long fingers in her hair pulling her back. Without second thought she drew her dagger and span quickly, the blade whipping past his face, but barely missing him. Aemond, with a stoic, hard expression caught her wrist and twisted, using his body weight to push her to the floor on her back, with either of his legs aside to squeeze her in.

He pinned her wrists beside her head, one hand still grasping the dagger. And for a moment they simply looked at one another, with practised hateful expressions, completely out of breath and hair sticking uncomfortably to each of their faces.

Thunder rumbled loudly above.

“Not as fast with a blade as your brother, are you, zaldritsos?”

“Get off me.”

“After all that? I’d scarcely think about letting you go. You should know better. I am here to collect what I am owed.”

“It is not me who took your eye, or did he damage your memory as well?”

“Careful. Lady Strong. I'll cut out your pretty tongue.”

She watches him loom above her, his wavy damp hair hanging over his shoulders, with that self-assured cocky smile on his face. No matter how hard she fights against him, she's too weak, and even with full strength would still struggle.

There's a flicker of amusement that passes across his face. One that makes her stomach drop.

“I wonder how talented your tongue is, mandianna.”

She feels her lips crack as her mouth goes dry, the bluntness of what he'd said and the shift in the tension shocked her more than anything else.

“I am a maide-”

“Oh, I'm sure you are.”

“I am.”

He laughs lowly in his chest, “then what an honour it will be, for my cock to be the first.”

“I will cut out your other eye.”

“And how I would like to see you try.”

She gets one hand free, but the slap she gives him is pitiful, and he merely laughs, pinning both down again with one hand while his other unlaces his breeches.

“Such fire, dear niece”, he cooes, “I cannot wait to be warmed by their flames.”

His hand moves to her hair, gripping painfully and pulling her up to kneel before him, her chin held high as he rises to stand before her. She gasps with shock when he pushes his breeches over his hips and pulls his length free, hard and weeping with arousal, pressed firmly against his stomach.

A dull ache settles between her legs, a feeling she does not recognise. She can barely tear her eyes away from his member, she'd seen so few, but knows that the one before her is so impressive, that she wonders for a moment where he intends to put it where it would fit.

He taps the head of his cock against her lips, “I think I shall have your mouth first, then take what I am owed. What do you think, mandianna?”

She barely has time to reply, he pushes himself into her mouth quickly, not at all seeming to care about the squeak of shock she lets out, her throat closing around his length to gulp down air when she's unable to.

Her eyes squeeze shut as his cockhead hits the back of her throat, hearing Aemond moan as he stills for a moment, basking in the warmth of her mouth around him.

“Breathe…”

Hurried huffs of air leave through her nose, Aemond's cock forced down her throat so that air cannot pass. He stays still, not moving his hips an inch, with one hand still gripping her hair.

Aemond chuckles darkly, moving her head on him to create the smallest amount of friction, the hairs at the base of him pressed against her face.

“How does it feel? To have a real Targaryen inside you, hm?”

She only whines around him, unable to do much else.

“Look at me.”

Her teary eyes crack open, struggling to get all the air she needs through her nose alone. And when she meets his gaze, she feels the warmth between her thighs at the eroticism of the act, and knowing it's all so, so wrong.

His sole lilac eye shrinks as he smirks, “If your mother could see you now.

“If you are good, I may fuck a Targaryen babe into you. Then you might see what a real one looks like.”

He starts a calm, gentle pace as if savouring it. She closes her eyes, focussing on the feeling of his heavy length on her tongue, curling it upwards to massage the long vein that decorates the shaft.

Aemond's smile widens, as he saw one of her hands dip between her thighs, a moan of her own vibrating around his cock.

“Yes, you will make a fine wife, I think.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

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stromuprisahat · 8 months

Text

... Like the queen they so despised, the Shepherd’s “lambs” were looking to the sky with dread, fearing that King Aegon’s dragons would arrive before the night was out, with an army close behind them. No longer believing that the queen could protect them, they looked to their Shepherd for salvation. But that prophet answered, “When the dragons come, your flesh will burn and blister and turn to ash. Your wives will dance in gowns of fire, shrieking as they burn, lewd and naked underneath the flames. And you shall see your little children weeping, weeping till their eyes do melt and slide like jelly down their faces, till their pink flesh falls black and crackling from their bones. ...”

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

"LEWD and NAKED underneath the flames"?!

I'm sure that's a vital, yet unexpected information!

As if fire didn't consume cloth, and underneath garments, people weren't usually naked.

A+ religious fanatic's logic.

If you can throw in titties and shame, do it!

#ASoIaF #Fire & Blood #valyrianscrolls #ch: The Dying of the Dragons: Rhaenyra Overthrown #The Shepherd #Riot of King's Landing #The barefoot lambs #Dance of the Dragons #V #GRRM #books #quotes

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catsteeth · 2 months

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The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 6 ✿:+ Free Fields

1-2-3-4-5-_-7

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: ALL SMUT MDNI, afab reader, virgin reader, P in V sex, oral sex (mutual), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up cuties), creampie, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence.

A/N: I am posting early this week, giving the girls what they want in one long smut scene. Everyone say thank you Bambi.

Word Count: 3467

You had ridden most of the night, but once the daylight began to rise in the sky you felt sleep take you. Sandor tied Lika to Stranger and Sandor held you as he rode. You insisted you didn’t need the sleep but he insisted in the opposite direction. He’d ridden most of the day holding you against his chest, wrapped in his cloak.

You’d woken up in the forest. The light that peaked through the gaps in the leaves of the trees above you began to shine in your eyes. A cold breeze traveled through them, waking you up even more. You looked to your side through half open eyes. You sat up quickly, realizing you were laying on the soft grass alone. You looked around and saw Sandor was watering the horses, and you were wrapped in his cloak.

“‘M right here.” He said looking over his shoulder at you then back to the horses.

You looked around and never felt so alone, there was no one for miles. But again you never felt so free.

But you couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward. You’d never been alone with Sandor like this. There was hardly any chance of anyone stumbling upon you, your time was not limited, and now everyone must have known. Known that he took you with him.

You sat up and held your knees closer to your chest, you noticed how the red gown the Lannisters had made for you was already wearing thin, the fabrics tearing slightly. You ran your fingers over the ruined fabric over your knee. You noticed the pattern of the fabric was lions and roses. As your fingers ran over the lion's tail you couldn’t help but feel a pit in your stomach.

Tyrion.

You didn’t love him, that was true. But you were fond of him. And maybe at some point if you were married you could have. He wasn’t like his family, and he tried, he really did try to make your cage a comfortable one. But he did not open that cage for you, he didn’t even seem to want to. Sandor did.

Sandor looked over his shoulder at you again, noticing you examining the fabric.

“You can’t wear that out ‘ere.” He said gruffly as he stood and walked towards Stranger.

You looked confused,

“Somebody comes along and see’s you in that bloody thing you know what they’ll do?” He asked, as if he was testing you. Wanting to know just how cruel you knew the world could be.

“Something like those men during the riot did.”

“No.” He huffed while rummaging through the sattles bag “No one’ll ever touch you like that again.” He said pulling out some clothes and walking towards you, “But they’ll know who you are. Where the fuck you came from. Lannisters would find us faster.”

“You don’t think they’ll know who you are?” You asked as he handed you the clothes,

“You can change that fuckin’ dress but I can’t change my face now can I?” He said in a gruff voice that you ignored as you looked at the clothes. There was a white cotton tunic, a thick gray wool sweater that was like a dress on you. a pair of tall black leather boots, a thick black leather belt with a satchel attached to it, and a pair of dark brown trousers that were too tight for you but would have to do.

“where’d you get this?” You asked looking at the clothing,

“Stole it, while you were sleeping.” You looked up at him with a look of surprise “They didn’t want them, fucking left them outside.”

“Were they on a line?” He didn’t respond to you, just stared at you with guilty eyes, “They were hanging to dry. You can’t do that.”

“I’ll do what I have to, for you.” he whispered that last part, “You’re very kind. That’ll get you killed out here.” His voice was hardened and cold, “Change.” He said walking back to the horses by the river.

You shrugged off his hardened words. running your fingers through your hair. You realized how dirty the journey had made it. Not to mention the dirt that had gathered on your hands, feet, and knees.

Your eyes wandered towards the river, the water rushing looked inviting. You looked around, there was no one, at least for the next thirty miles. Then you looked back to sandor who was tending to the horses, he was strangely attentive and fond of the horses. It made you feel warm inside, seeing him be so gentle, after you’ve seen him kill and maim men for little reason.

You stood, as you did you began to remove your gown, Sandor could hear the fabric of your gown being discarded. He pretended not to notice it as he kept his back turned.

Your gown fell around your feet as you stepped out of it, your underclothes with it.

You walked towards the river, you dipped your foot in the cold water. It wasn’t like the warm baths in lavender oil that you were used to. But it was what you needed. The water was much deeper than you expected.

You plunged into the cold waters, let yourself stay under the water for a moment. The coldness of the water surrounded you, like it was holding you. It reminded you of the cold winds of the Eyrie. Before you could daydream even more you were pulled out of the water by your arm.

You gasped for air as your head finally reached the surface.

“Fuck are you doing, girl?” He barked at you, you pulled your arm away,

“I was dirty.” You said with a smirk as you were catching your breath.

“Er clean now, out.” He said pulling your arm again but you pulled away and out of his grasp. He huffed, you noticed that he was still covered in blood, it was faded but it was still there.

“You’re still all bloody.” You said and he tisked at you walking away. “Stop it.” You said pulling your arm away before swimming closer towards him. “Come here.” You commanded softly. With a gruff sigh he gave in, kneeled towards you. You wiped the blood from his brow, his cheek, then his scarred cheek. When you touched it he winced a little. “Does it hurt?” You whispered, he shook his head.

“Are you finished?” He rasped, you nodded. He stood and walked back and away from you. “Get out of there before a man comes along.” He rasped once again, as he sat by a small fire he’d built. No doubt with a great deal of courage, he mainly built it for you.

So you did as he said, you climbed out of the water, you threw on your under clothes to cover your nakedness, though your body was still so wet the clothes became almost transparent. Sandor looked back at you while you rang out your hair. He’d seen you naked before, but this felt all the more intimate. The glamor had worn off, and you were reduced to skin and bone. Not a noble woman but a human. Your cheeks felt red and you looked away, but you felt his gaze linger.

“Dress yourself.” He commanded in a growl “If a man comes,”

“There's no one for miles.” You interrupted him, walking towards him, your hair still dripping wet.

“Stubborn girl.” He growled as he drank water from a flask, pissed that it wasn’t wine. But you continued your steps towards him. You knelt by his side and began to undo the clasps of his armor. He grabbed your hand “Fuck are you doing?”

“You’re covered in blood, your armor- it’s covered in blood.” You said but he didn’t let go of your hand “We can’t attract attention like you said. You being covered in blood would attract just that.” He let your hand go, and you continued. Undoing each clasp until he was left in his tunic and slacks.

You sat by the river and washed each piece with your hands, taking small amounts of water and rubbing it onto the silver armor. Making sure not too much water touched it, you didn’t want to ruin the material.

Sandor watched you as the sun began to set, it made him think about what he offered you in your room the night of the battle of Blackwater. He’d build you a home. And he would. He thought of you washing clothes in a river like what you were doing now. He thought of sharing a home with you, not a grand one like the Eyrie but a small home made of wood and stone. He thought for a moment of you carrying his babe. But he was not one for chivalry, tradition, or ceremonies. But he wasn’t one for love either but here he was.

You walked back with his armor, the fire illuminated his face handsomely, you tried to put it back on him but he took it and placed it on the ground. His eyes softened strangely, but his face was still in that scowl he always had. He placed his hands on your hips and his eyes ran over your body.

“If another man saw what I am looking at right now, I would kill him.” He grumbled.

“How many men have you killed?”

“Killed my first man when I was twelve. I lost count since then.” His voice was cold, and his eyes reached yours searching for any ounce of fear. Finding none. “I don’t frighten you?” He barked as if he was trying to frighten you, trying to get you to come to your senses.

“Never.” You spoke softly, your soft words always gentled the rage within him. He felt so much for you he almost resented you for it.

He grabbed you by your jaw, “Have you ever made a man feel this way before?” He growled,

“I don’t know.” You said, still not scared of him, you knew he’d never harm you.

“I know you have. How could any man not? I know that Imp, he wanted you.” his voice was so low it rumbled in his chest.

“I never felt love for him, nor lust.” You spoke softly, his grip on you loosened.

“What of that pretty boy,”

“Loras?”

“Aye.”

You let out a small giggle at the thought of Sandor being truly jealous of Loras, a man who couldn't love a woman. “Rumors of Loras are true. He did not like the touch of a woman.”

“He was a cock sucker?”

“Stop that.”

“What, you love him do you?” His grip tightened once again but still not hurting you.

“Not the kind of love you mean.”

“You said you promised someone you love to take the Eyrie. Who?” He growled, you knew that this was the only way he’d be able to tell you he loved you. By interrogating you on who you loved.

“My mother.” His grip loosened completely, “And my father.” His hand began to rest on your neck, “I promised my mother on her child bed, to keep her house safe, and her son safe. I failed at one I can’t fail both.”

“Oaths and promises are for cunts.”

“You’ve sworn a promise to me.”

“Aye.” He said, his eyes scanning down your body once more.

“What are you looking at?”

“The fuck do you think I’m looking at.” He rasped as you noticed his hooded eyes lingering on your breasts, hardly covered by your soaking wet under clothes. You pulled the top half of your under clothes over your head. His eyes snapped to yours.

“You’ve never been fucked by a man?” He rasped, he knew you hadn’t, he knew you’d already told him this, but he needed to be sure. You shook your head. “Never had a man's fingers in your cunt?” You shook your head again, “Never had a man’s tongue in your cunt?” He rasped,

“Only yours,” You whispered. Those words only encourage his throbbing cock.

“You sure you want this?” He grumbled, his large rough hands going to your breasts. They were rough and almost hurt by how course they were. They were so large that they engulfed your breast completely. Your mind then turned back from that to the question he asked,

“I am.” Your words are soft and sweet.

“Lay back,” His voice dropped and rumbled in his chest, it made you clench your thighs together. You laid back as he asked you. You laid back on the green soft grass. As you did he pulled his tunic off and over his head. He loomed over you, his hands ran from your jaw, to your sternum, to your stomach, to your pelvis. He toyed with the fabric of your under clothes covering your sex.

“You can’t take it back.” He rasped. You nodded, and you pulled your under clothes down and over your knees, he took them off from there.

He positioned himself between your legs, and leaned down. He kissed you deeply. Sucking on your lips as if they tasted of wine. His rough hands roamed your body, they were so rough they almost scratched at your skin. You moaned into his mouth as his hand found its way to your cunt.

His large middle finger began to play with your clit. His finger circled your clit a few times then teased your entrance, just a little, adding some pressure then going back to your clit. Your sweet moans only encourage his throbbing bulge in his trousers.

Your hand gripped a chunk of his hair at the back of his head, deepening your kiss. Your other hand roamed his back, littered with scars.

He kissed down from your jaw, to your neck, to your collar bones, your chest, breasts, nipples, stomach. He sucked and bit at your side making you jump a little and mewl. He continued on and kissed your pelvic mound.

He lifted your legs up and over his shoulders, kissing your inner thighs and biting them gently. The feel of his beard scratched at your thighs. Your back arched at the feeling.

Finally, replacing his fingers with his tongue. He licked at your sensitive clit, sucking on it, and biting on it lightly, enough to make you moan his name, which in turn made him moan into your cunt. The vibration of it made the sensation all the more pleasurable.

At this point you were soaking wet, you heard lude sounds from him, a mix of growls and slurping.

You gripped a handful of his hair again scratching at his scalp.

His fingers returned to your cunts entrance, not fully entering it, just applied pressure teasing you horribly.

He kissed your swollen clit and came up for air, He looked at your cunt, empty but clenching around nothing at all. It drove him mad, as he looked up at you, you looked down at him. “I’ll be gentle, but it’ll hurt.” He said with a low raspy voice.

You nodded, “Please,” you whined.

He kissed your inner thigh as his thick ring finger began to enter you. Your back arched and you let out a groan as you threw your head back. It burned a little, and the pressure was uncomfortable, and yet felt so good. His finger continued inside of you, and his eyes watched you making sure you didn’t want it to stop. Then you felt him hit something, it made you wince. He stopped,

“Take a deep breath, little bird.” He said oddly gently. He sucked on your clit as he continued and you felt a snap inside of you, it hurt,

“Nmph!” You groaned, let out a sharp breath.

“It’s alright now, it’ll feel better now.” He said moaning into your cunt.

And he was right, the pain and the burn stopped, and was replaced by pleasure. You moaned as his finger pumped in you over and over again. He added another finger as he sucked on your breasts. You held his head and kissed the top of it whilst he did so.

He pulled his fingers out of you and sat up on his knees. You sat up as well.

Your eyes looked at his fingers, covered in your slick mixed with blood. Your cheeks lit up red with embarrassment.

“It’s alright, little bird. I fuckin' love it, you've got no fucking idea how long I've wanted to do this to ye.” He comforted you, you weren’t used to it. You tried to ignore your embarrassment and focus on what you wanted. You started to undo his trousers, he didn’t stop you this time. You pulled his trousers down with some resistance from his large cock. Once you got them down his cock bounced up, standing straight. You looked up at him waiting for any resistance, met with none once again.

You took his cock in your hand, it made your hand look so small in comparison. He let out a deep groan, which only encouraged you more. You kissed the side of his cock, and kissed your way to the tip. You licked at the precum that was seeping from his tip.

It was salty and bitter but you couldn’t get enough. However, that was his last straw. He pushed you back onto the soft grass and pulled your legs around his waist. He kissed you, tasting himself on your tongue as you tasted yourself on his.

He lined himself up with your soft, warm, and soaking wet entrance. He slowly pushed his way inside of you. You both let out a loud moan, but you tried to cover your mouth, not wanting to risk others in these forests hearing you. Sandor wouldn’t have that though. He grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from your mouth,

“Don’t you fucking dare. I want to hear all of it.” He growled at you, “I’ve waited too long to hear it.”

“What if someone hears?” You tried to say without moaning but failing miserably

“I’ll strangle them with their own guts.” He said like an angry dog, “I’m the only one who can see you like this, hear you like this.”

He pushed further and further into you until he hit your spongy cervix, making you almost scream out in pleasure. Sandor gritted his teeth and he shouted “Gods!... (Y/N), you feel so fucking good!” as he slammed his lips onto yours kissing you with a hunger you’d never known. He let himself warm inside you for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch.

All the things you’d heard about sex finally made sense. The pleasure of it, and the pain of it. But you never knew how fulfilling it could feel. How the satisfaction would feel within you. You hadn’t even cum yet but you were a woman happy nonetheless.

He began to move again, in and out of you pumping. You gripped the grass at the sides of your head. As he pumped in you your breasts bounced, his eyes couldn’t stop but admire your body. Every inch of it unique to you and you alone. All those whores he paid who looked like you weren’t like this. They didn’t feel as good as you did, they didn’t fit around him the way you did.

“I’m not ‘urting you am I?” He asked through gritted teeth, you shook your head as you moaned loudly, “Good.” He said as he pumped harder and faster. He leaned down more and ravaged your breasts, you knew there would be marks on them tomorrow. His hands gripped at your hips so tightly you knew there would be marks there as well.

“Take it, take it, take it, take it-” He grumbled into your neck over and over again.

You felt the pressure in your belly tighten, you knew you were going to cum. “I feel ya’ tightening around my cock, do it, cum around my cock.” He said into your ear as he nibbled at your lobe, then moving to bite at your jaw.

“Fuck!” You moaned loudly, “Sandor!” You yelped as you felt yourself cumming all over him.

His arm wrapped around your waist tightly pulling you up and close to this chest. While his other hand held your jaw in place, having you look him in the eyes.

“Cum in me,” You pleaded breathlessly, his eyes widened, he couldn’t believe that you’d ever want him to do such a thing. It pushed him over the edge and he didn’t have time to question if it was truly what you wanted as he melted into you.

"(Y/N)!" He shouted as you felt the hot ribbons of cum filling you deep inside of you. His grunts were like war screams, as if he were impaling a man with a sword. In a way he was. It out of nowhere made you cum again, pushing some of his cum out of your cunt, overflowing around his cock still in you.

As he collapsed beside you, and you both laid there naked covered in sweat in the cold air. You tried to catch your breath.

“(Y/N)” He said in a husky growl you could hear the rumble of his tone, you turned to look at him. “I would die for you.”

NOTE:

Hi girlies. I made this with the intention of making it just one scene in a multiple scene chapter but it was already so long and we have a lot more to get to so enjoy this little freebie.

Also I am working on a new series, might take a min tho so I am not going to announce who it is about but it is also GOT related.

Also also double points for anyone who caught the Laufey lyrics

My Beloveds: If you want to be added to the tag list comment telling me so!

@dontfollowjuststuff @helpmeescapethisreality @merfic

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jaehaeryshater · 13 days

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“Near the end, [King Jaehaerys] grew certain [Alicent] was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.”

artist: @riotarttherite

I had the great pleasure of commissioning, in my opinion, one of ASOIAF fandom’s greatest artists on this gorgeous piece. I had never commissioned any artwork before and didn’t know what to expect, and this far exceeded my expectations. The attention to detail is beautiful and the overall piece conveys exactly what I was envisioning in my head, so I wanted to start off with a big thank you.

The idea for this art piece was originally a “what if” or AU where Saera either didn’t get caught at the brothel or was brought back from the Silent Sisters as was allegedly Jaehaerys’s plan (or if she had bonded with Balerion and gotten to stay! Would have loved that for her) so she stays in King’s Landing and becomes his caretaker in his old age instead of Alicent Hightower. As his daughter, she would have significantly more influence in being able to “speak for him” instead of a caretaker for another House, so although I do not take Saera as someone particularly obsessed with power, I do find it very interesting to imagine her deciding to cause chaos as the Old King’s mouthpiece. The streets of King’s Landing are burning as we speak! Even before Jaehaerys seemed to succumb to dementia, Saera did appear to have a strange influence over him, so once Alysanne passed away, it only makes sense that Saera would become the person in his ear. Not all that great for the smallfolk or even Lords of the realm, but great for drama and storylines. And Saera, of course! I’m sure she would have paraded everywhere, weighed down by jewelry and the finest wines. Perhaps she would have had a full menagerie, as she appeared to love animals. Definitely an elephant there somewhere.

As this piece was being worked on, however, I did think of a second meaning to the art that I also think is really neat. You could also view this as what Jaehaerys is seeing as Alicent is caring for him. He did believe her to be Saera in the end, as his mind was being lost. His Saera had come back to him, and although I do not like Jaehaerys and think he probably deserved worse, he most likely died happy at that thought, believing Saera was reading to him. So if you prefer to interpret this as viewing things through Jaehaerys’s mind, I welcome you because I love it at least equally to the first idea.

Lastly, the detailings are beautiful so I wanted to touch on them and give them the attention they deserve for the moment. I asked Riot to have a caring but sinister vibe, that she is caring for him for a plethora of reasons but certainly that includes self-serving reasons. I believe this was captured really well! I wanted it to be illustrated that Jaehaerys had lost his wits a while beforehand, so he has a vacant look, and Saera has the keys, showing that she is the real power behind the Crown. She has several expensive jewelry pieces (she has many from her lovers, but she doesn’t bother with them, leaving them to collect dust, only thinking gifts from the King are worthy to wear), but my favorite was one I specifically requested. Her jeweled bodice, which contains replicas of the King’s jewels that are present on his crown. Dare I say, she had her mother’s crown repurposed for herself? The intention is clear, Saera is effectively the Queen now, not in name, but Queen nonetheless. As for the general fashion, I told Riot that my favorite era of fashion was the Tudor era, more broadly 1300s- 1550s. As you can see, this was more than delivered and extremely beautifully inspired by historical fashion. GRRM doesn’t always describe his character’s outfits, and the GOT and HOTD outfits were often lackluster. This was exactly the type of beauty I was looking for. The dragon embroidery on Saera’s sleeves? Mwah!

Anyway, thank you so much for geeking out with me! The Saera/Jaehaerys dynamic is one of the most interesting dynamics to me. There’s simultaneously so little and so much there. It’s complex and layered, I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have been on my tiktok, you may have heard about my extensive theory regarding that dynamic, iykyk. If you ever want to talk about them, absolutely feel free to inbox me. More commission ideas coming this year definitely, at least a couple more of this dynamic, but I don’t know how a piece could be any more perfect <3

#jaehaerys targaryen #king jaehaerys #jaehaerys the conciliator #saera targaryen #fire and blood #let women be sinister #evil thoughts #behind every evil person is a more evil person #tudor fashion

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visenyaism · 2 months

Note

Rhanerya not having really any Meaningful Flaws and also a Mandate of Heaven is so annoying to me bc. Isn't the dance supposed to be about how monarchy sucks and tears itself apart and both the contenders were incompetent to a fault. Like that's The Point neither of them Deserve it one of them is paranoid and stupid and the other is emotional and stupid and neither of them are good rulers! Both of them got overthrown!

see it IS also a story about gender and the labeling of rhaenyra as overly emotional is pretty obvious signifier of misogyny. but the story also really is a condemnation of monarchy and also that war is bad. making one of the sides completely morally justified kind of undercuts the anti-war stuff to me.

if either of them had stepped out of the way for the other one, it probably would have been mostly fine for the people of westeros. But the war and the squabbling over power made both aegon ii and rhaenyra terrible rulers. and then the citizens of Kings Landing decided that no one was coming to save them and so their only option was killing all the dragons with rocks and cobblestones and rioting en masse to overthrow the government even though they knew this was probably going to kill them. that’s the point to me.

#asoiaf #listen the riot chapter is like the only part of fire and blood i thought the historical perspective actually worked #hotd

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flowerandblood · 6 months

Text

» The Longing «

[ Aemond ✦ Targaryen x Baratheon! ✦ female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, smut, angst, domination, ass slapping, degardation, possessive behaviour, orgasm denial ]

» The Impossible Choice Special Chapter «

Aemond through his duties as the Hand of the King is unable to keep his promise and accompany his wife on her journey to Storms End. To his disappointment this does not stop her and she and their son leave for what seems to him an infinite amount of time.

This work was created as part of a series The Christmas Drabbles which will consist of ten drabbles taking place after the events of some of my favorite fanfictions. Each of them is concerned with one feeling that dominates the characters at a given moment. This is my little gift to all my fans.

Word counter: 2.400

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

✦✦✦✦✦

When Aegon made it clear to him that because of the troubles with the riots on the streets of King's Landing, he would not be able to leave Dragonstone until things calmed down, he knew his wife would not take this well.

They had tried several times to arrange a date for their trip to Storm's End, however each time his duties as the Hand of the King prevented him from doing so. He had presented her with the King's decision over dinner, which they always ate together.

She entertained their son, who was trying with difficulty to babble his first words already, though it was more coming out as strange clusters of syllables. Lady Baratheon raised her gaze full of disbelief at him and shook her head.

"I will leave without you, Aemond. I will not explain myself to Royce for the third time. His first-born son was born and I promised him I would come to enjoy it with him. I haven't seen him for six months." She said with a frown, turning her attention to Daeron again, stopping his quick, curious hands from grabbing the bowl that stood close to her.

He felt his jaw clench at her words, his nostrils moving restlessly in a deeper breath, his brow expressing frustration at the thought that she was to travel anywhere without him, without her husband.

"It's dangerous." He replied coolly, wanting to show her by his tone of voice and attitude that he didn't like her suggestion.

She knew him enough to know when he was against her ideas.

She sighed heavily, looking at him with obvious impatience, however her voice was calm and composed.

"Appoint someone to travel there with me and Daeron. Even a few guards, if you see fit, I −"

"− with Daeron?" He growled lowly, looking at her in disbelief, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Who will take care of him in my absence? Is he to stay the whole time with only his mummy while you are at a council meeting?" She asked, clearly trying to convince him that this was the most sensible solution, but he could not comprehend how the thought that she was to separate him from his first-born son could meet with his approval.

"He's my son." He said low, deep, menacingly, his hand lying on the table in front of him clenched into a fist.

"I know; but his father, through no fault of his own, is unable to keep his promise. His father, and at the same time, as it coincided, my husband, should understand my decision, just as I show understanding towards his." She said firmly, furrowing her brows, there was not a trace of fear or hesitation in her bright eyes.

He fucked her like crazy that night, rooting his manhood into her with deep, fast thrusts, listening to her moans of despair every time she was close to fulfilment.

He wouldn't let her come, punishing her for wanting to leave him, allowing her to reach her peak on his length only after his semen had filled her for the third time, teasing her pearl with his long, nimble fingers, from her throat, to his delight, only his name bursting out between her cries of delight.

Feeling the warmth of her body, her scent, her sweet lips pressed against his, his rage completely vanished from him, leaving only a burning desire for her not to leave him, to give him just a little more time to fulfil his promise.

He spent the whole night at the other end of the bed with his back turned to her when she told him that she couldn't let her brother down once again. He didn't even speak to her when she embraced him, when she told him that she would be back soon, that she loved him.

He thought, embittered and full of pain, that if she really loved him she would never of her own free will have decided to separate from him.

The next day, despite her request, he did not escort her and their son to the carriage. She stood over him as he pretended to read a book, uninterested in her words about how deeply sad she was and that she did not want them to part in anger.

He answered her nothing.

He regretted it as soon as she left, when he went to the window and saw that their carriages, accompanied by an escort, were heading away from Dragonstone to finally disappear. He pressed his lips together and swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in his throat and the pain in his chest, he couldn't believe he felt like crying.

Two weeks.

They had never been apart for so long before.

Although he tried not to think about it, their absence seemed to create a void in his mind and heart, his chamber suddenly seeming immensely dark and disturbing to him.

At night as he lay in his bed he would wake restlessly, reaching his hand to the side where she always lay, wanting to make sure she was safe, and he would open his eyes, terrified, looking at the cold material of his sheets, having to remind himself that she had left, that she was in no danger.

He knew she had a right to do so and that she missed her brother very much, but he still felt forsaken.

Nevertheless, when his servant brought him a letter from her, he took it from her and immediately told her to leave without waiting a second, fearing that something might have happened to them.

Her words, however, only expressed her joy at seeing her nephew and that he was in good health. She also informed him that she and Daeron were feeling well, although they missed him very much. She wrote to him about how she could not sleep at night and that she felt as if she had left a part of her heart somewhere far away.

He felt rage and bitterness reading this, but most of all this immense, overwhelming longing.

He did not write her back.

He did not allow his servants to help himself in the bath furious that they could not do it in the same order as his wife, did not have her hands or her scent, made him uncomfortable and only reminded him of her absence.

When at last the day of their return came he had felt tense and excited since the morning, but at the same time he was annoyed, his face stony, not expressing any emotion exactly as when they had met, when he had first seen her in Storm's End.

He did not come out to meet them when they arrived at the stronghold, he did not greet her when he heard her enter his chamber even though he immediately felt her scent, his manhood throbbed hard in response, as it always did, with desire.

He relieved himself in her absence by fucking himself with his own hand, cursing and at the same time summoning her in his thoughts.

At last she returned.

He sat bent over his book, his back to her, heard her soft, warm voice, tired from many hours of travel, heard her hand their son over to his mummy saying that she had fed him an hour ago and he should sleep soundly through the night, before the door opened and closed.

They were left alone.

He knew she was standing looking at him from afar, hoping that he would bestow at least one glance on her, that he would say something, but he only pressed his lips together and turned the page, pretending to concentrate on what he was reading.

He heard her quiet footsteps, the distinctive rustling of her gown, and then he felt and saw her soft, slender hand touch his arm, a shiver went through him. He swallowed quietly, straightening up in his seat, feeling his heart pounding hard, feeling that he was completely hard, that the only thing keeping him from throwing himself at her was his own pride.

"My husband." She whispered with pain, with longing, with hope, with relief and joy that they were together again. He felt a tightness in his throat, his nostrils moved restlessly, his fingers clenched tightly on the book that lay just on his thighs.

"Will you help me undress?"

He felt his length throbbing hard at his words, he let out a quiet puff as if surprised, for a moment wanting to suggest that she ask her maid to do it, but hesitated.

He pressed his lips together and put his book down on the table, rising with a loud creak of wood. He turned and looked at her, realising at once that he had made a huge mistake.

She was staring at him with those big bright eyes of hers surrounded by a fan of beautiful long lashes, her dark eyebrows arched in worry, in pain, in fear of his anger and rejection, her cheeks rosy from the cold outside and the warmth of his chamber, her lips slightly parted in a quickened breath, glistening and plump.

His.

She almost screamed when he grabbed her violently by her hair, drawing her to him, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat with his low groan of relief, he sighed quietly as she immediately grasped his cheeks in her frozen hands, her wonderfully puffy lips teasing him with full, passionate, moist kisses.

He decided that she didn't deserve to be taken like his wife, in their bed, tenderly and slowly, so he pulled away from her and turned her suddenly with her back to him, forcing her to lean over the table, pulling up the thick layers of her gown quickly.

"− you don't deserve for me to make love to you as a wife, do you? − a good wife does not abandon her husband −" He hissed with rage and she whimpered loudly when he slapped her buttock with all his strength, leaving a red mark on it from his hand.

"− answer me −" He said coldly, running his thumb over her heat between her thighs, watching with satisfaction as she leaked with arousal, twitching from his every move.

"− y-yes, I don't deserve it, my husband −" She mumbled with difficulty, giving in, knowing that even if she disagreed with him she couldn't stand up to him now, that he wanted her to be his obedient, sweet lover. He hummed with satisfaction at her words.

"− mmm − does a bad wife deserve to experience fulfilment? −" He asked calmly, his thumb beginning to circle around her pearl, teasing her, changing the pressure, her buttocks bucked more towards him seeking a source of more intense rubbing.

"− n-no − please − I've missed you so much −" She muttered, clenching her fingers on the cold wooden table top to which she pressed her cheek, her lips parted wonderfully in complete helplessness.

He licked his lower lip at her words, furiously slipping his thumb into her without warning, a startled cry broke from her throat as he began to press and rub her bud, hidden inside her between her muscles, he could feel his hand getting all moist from her juices.

"− how much? − were you touching yourself? −" He hissed warningly, and she swallowed loudly, nodding her head with shame.

He pressed his lips together in rage at the thought that she had done this even though he had clearly forbidden her to do so. He slipped his finger out of her and again slapped her buttock with all his strength, she sobbed loudly, closing her eyes.

"− my wife has disappointed me greatly −" He said low, darkly, deeply, undoing the buckle from his robe, reaching down to untie his trousers.

He heard her gasp loudly for air, terrified, as he gripped her hip in his hand and forced her to spread her thighs wider, she squealed when the head of his length began to push against her pulsating entrance.

He rooted into her with one sure thrust, beginning to move inside her immediately with a low, weak groan of pleasure that ripped from his throat, she squeezed him as wonderfully as ever, making him have to clench his eyelids shut, his hands clamped down tightly on her waist as he impaled her on his manhood with a loud slap of flesh against flesh.

"− fucking take it − that's right − ah − that's what you fucking deserve −" He growled as he sped up, pounding into her with aggressive, deep thrusts of his hips, each of his movements accompanied by the loud, sticky sound of her wetness running down her thighs, he slid into her with increasing ease.

"− Aemond −" She mewled as if begging him for mercy, for forgiveness, for fulfilment, and he sighed with relief as if only now realising that he was inside her again, that he would fall asleep beside her again, that she was back. They both started panting loudly, her hips responding eagerly to his every thrust.

"− is this what you wanted? − for your husband to fuck you like a servant, like a common whore? −" He hissed out between his thrusts, feeling her walls clenching against him greedily, she moaned helplessly and nodded her head. He chuckled under his breath, feeling the heat gathering in his lower abdomen, feeling that he was as close to fulfilment as she was.

"− come for your husband − prove to me that you can be a good wife −" He muttered in between his final, sloppy thrusts, hearing her loud, helpless whimper, her body shaken by a wave of pleasure from which her walls began to squeeze against him lustfully, causing him to reach his peak with a sigh of relief, finally feeling his seed fill her insides.

"− yes − fuck, yes −" He panted, moving inside her for a moment longer with the loud click of her moisture, his semen running slowly down her thighs.

He watched their joined bodies with a feeling of wonderful relaxation and fulfilment, placing his hands on the table between her head, leaning slightly just as she tried to catch his breath. He licked his lips, looking down at her beautiful, soft face, all red from exertion.

"I'm afraid this isn't going to be an easy night for you, sweet wife."

✦✦✦✦✦

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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