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starogeorgina · 6 months

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. "Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Ivory,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Ivory, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and we do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Ivory! Ivory, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Ivory…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

"When my father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen/you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii fic #ghosts in the sky #aegon ii targaryen x oc #Aegon II Targaryen/oc #Aegon II Targaryen x fem oc #aegon ii x oc #aegon targaryen x oc #Aegon Targaryen x fem oc

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justinalovee · 9 months

Text

𝑴𝒖ñ𝒂

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen × Reader × Helena

Targaryen

Word Count: 847

Warnings: Incest, breastfeeding kink, fingering, thigh riding, kink shame

Summary: Aegon comes to realise he has a breastfeeding kink

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI. I’ve decided to split this into two parts

The first time Aegon noticed the wet spots that your nipples had produced was early one morning when he felt you rustling beside him. You woke to the milk soaking through the fabric of your nightgown. As you were sleeping between Aegon and Helaena, it was impossible not to wake them. The sun shining into the room was enough for them to see the damp fabric of your clothing. You scoot to the bottom of the bed to remove the nightgown and change into a new one.

“Is that normal?” Aegon is alarmed. “Should I send for the maester?”

“She’s fine; her milk is just coming in,” Helaena says, yawning. She fluffs her pillow before laying her head back down on it.

Aegon looks up at you, confused. You smile at him. You place his hand on your swollen stomach and say, “My body is just getting ready for the baby.”

He says nothing but kisses your bump.

—

The second time Aegon noticed the milk coming from your teats was when he entered your shared bed chambers to see you riding Helaena. Your soaking core rubbed against her soft thigh, while one of her hands clasped at your bare ass while the other gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place.

You had been so caught up in chasing your high that you’d been oblivious to the small droplets of milk coming from you as Helaena sucked your breast into her mouth. It wasn’t until she leaned back and moved to suckle on the other that you noticed the milk still on her lips. She didn’t seem bothered by it, while Aegon stood frozen in place, watching.

Although watching his wives fucking always got him hard, Aegon felt something else as well. Jealousy. He wished to know how the milk coming from your perfect breast tastes.

—

The third time he noticed was when he assisted you while you bathed. Aegon listens as you complain of how sore and heavy your stomach and breasts felt while washing your back. Usually he would be sliding his fingers inside of you by this point, but his eyes kept lingering on your breasts, which kept leaking.

His cheeks flushed red whenever he noticed. At first, you thought he found it disgusting, but then you started to notice his dick always got hard. You wanted to mention it but didn’t want to risk embarrassing Aegon, knowing how shy he could be about certain things.

You made a mental note to try to find a way to test your theory that Aegon had a breastfeeding kink without actually mentioning it.

You bounce up and down on Aegon's cock, enjoying the pleasurable sting of his cock stretching your cunt to fit him. If it weren’t for Helaena clashing her lips against your own, you were sure the whole of the keep could hear your moans of pleasure.

“Bend over.”

Following your command, Helaena turned around and leaned down onto her elbows with her plump ass sticking up. The way she was bent gave you a full view of her glistening core. When she starts to rub at her clit, you slide your fingers along her folds a few times before thrusting two into her.

When your eyes move back to Aegon, you notice his gaze is on your breasts, which have started to leak again. Now or never. You tangle your free hand into his thick hair and motion for him to sit up. Gently kiss him on the lips before guiding his head to where you wanted it most. He looks up at you for permission. When you nod, Aegon wraps his lips around your hard nipple.

His thrusts become harder as he sucks every drop that he can from your breast. Helaena moans loudly as she brings herself to a climax on your fingers. You’d make up for your lack of effort later, as it was hard to be considerate of both of them at the same time. But Helaena held no ill will as she began to kiss the side of your neck as you held Aegon tightly.

Both of you came together quickly, and not long after, all three of you fell asleep.

—

Staring up at the ceiling, you feel Aegon shuffling beside you. You look at Helaena, who was sleeping peacefully beside you, hugging a pillow to her face as his shiny silver locks fell over it.

You whisper, “Aegon, are you awake?”

“Elena, you should be asleep.”

You roll onto your side so you can face him, and your noses brush together. “What’s keeping you up, my love?”

“… I’m ashamed that I enjoyed ‘it’ so much.”

Instantly, you know what he’s alluding to. You brush stray hairs behind his ear. “You shouldn’t feel any shame.” Seeing his lilac eyes linger on Helaena, you decide not to go any further into the conversation just now. “We can talk about it further in the morning, if you like.”

Aegon nods; he cuddles in closer, resting his hand on your swollen bump before trying to fall asleep.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #aegon targaryen x fem reader #Aegon Targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #helaena targaryen smut #helaena targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x helaena targaryen

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tomriddleslovergirl · 5 months

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Hcs about how Aemond and Aegon(separate) would react to the reader running away and getting pretty far from Kings Landing? I really love your works btw.

Aemond and Aegon ii Targaryen’s reaction to You running away

Warnings: spoilers, possessiveness, murder

Word count: 1.3k

Aegon ii Targaryen:

Being a seamstress’s daughter, you helped your mother create dresses for Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent.

Your mother had been young when you both moved to King's Landing, having just given birth to you. She’d been close to Princess Rhaenyra, having conversations with each other when she was taking the Princess’s measurements.

As you got older, you helped your mother make dresses for the royal family.

When Rhaenyra moved to Driftmark with the rest of her family, you both were stuck making clothing for Queen Alicent and at times, the other royals.

Prince Aegon & you hadn’t met until it was around the time of his nameday.

Queen Alicent had chosen you and your mother to create a suit for Aegon, for him to wear on his nameday celebration.

Your mother put you on the job of taking the prince’s measurements.

Though Aegon was a bit drunk, he still found it in himself to flirt with you. You, of course, had politely tried to shut down Aegon’s advances, but you soon found yourself taken with him.

Your affair had begun from then on.

When King Viserys died, Aemond found Aegon in your bedroom, begging you to run away with him.

After Aegon was crowned king, your mother had forced you to quickly pack a bag with the items you needed before leaving the castle, saying she wouldn’t support and usurper as a king.

Hours after you left, Aegon had come to visit you.

Your door was open, which hadn’t alarmed Aegon until he walked into your room.

It was a mess.

Clothes were strewn on the floor, various fabrics and sewing supplies were left on chairs or tables.

The drunk prince sobered up when he realized quite a few of your personal items were missing.

Aegon called for his guards to go looking for you as he went to Alicent’s chambers.

When Aegon realized that you were missing, his mind jumped to two possibilities. One, that you had been taken as hostage by the blacks, since Aegon had never been quiet about his relationship with you. Or two, that his mother had something to do with you leaving.

Alicent had tried talking to Aegon before about ending his affair with you. Calling the relationship a disgrace and asking if he had no respect for his sister-wife. Saying that she was using him for his wealth.

Aegon had argued against her and in the end didn’t end his affair with you.

Now, Aegon thought that she may have paid you off to leave King's Landing.

Once he had gotten to her chambers, it was clear to Alicent that something was wrong with Aegon. His cheeks were red and he looked to be in a rush.

When Aegon asked if she had anything to do with your disappearance, she denied it, but said it was good that you were gone. That you would have been nothing but trouble.

Aegon believed her, though defended you when she insulted you.

Over the next couple of days Aegon had been drinking more since your disappearance. When you were still here, he would help him with his drinking problems, but now that you were gone, he had fallen back into his hole of depression.

Since you were gone, Aegon found himself missing you more and more. He got out of bed and walked —or more like stumbled —to your room.

Guards followed him. There were more of them since the war between the blacks and the greens.

He lay down on your bed and breathed it in. It still smelt like you.

Aegon was about to cry over you, when he noticed a small paper half covered by one of the pillows on your bed.

He grabbed it and read through it.

The letter was written in an obvious hurry, the writing messy & jumbled.

In the letter it said that your mother was making you leave King’s Landing in support of his half sister Rhaenyra. And — perhaps stupidly— you wrote that your mother was taking you to Essos.

He clenched the note in his hand. This meant you didn’t actually want to leave him right?

He felt anger towards your mother. She was the one who took you away from him

Aegon decided that he was going to get you back. It wasn’t going to be up for debate.

Aemond Targaryen:

Before the war with the Greens and the Blacks, your father had taken you to King’s Landing to meet Aemond Targaryen.

King Viserys had sent a letter, hoping that he would agree to betroth you to Aemond.

Your father, of course, had jumped at the chance to accept.

To marry a Targaryen would be an honor, he had told you.

You had found yourself upset that you would be forced to marry, but he convinced you to stay on your best behavior.

A celebration was thrown for you & your father.

Your house was quite respectable and wealthy, as you were known for your silk.

You met Aemond at the dinner party, and were surprised by how respectable he was. And you weren't going to lie, he was nice to look at.

You had heard stories about how unattractive the prince was, but you disagreed.

And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt your cheeks heat up when the prince kissed your hand.

During the whole celebration, Aemond was respectful and seemed kind. And you thought that you both seemed to get along just fine.

There was no doubt in your head that you were going to get betrothed after that night.

For the rest of the time you were to spend in King’s Landing, Aemond had courted you.

You both would have tea together while being supervised, and spend time in the library.

Aemond was intelligent. That much was obvious.

You would watch as he trained using his sword & Aemond himself found that he was taken by you.

You didn’t shy away from his gaze like the other ladies-in-court have.

You were intelligent yourself & were eager for him to teach you High Valyrian.

You both got married not long after.

Once the war Between The Blacks & The Greens had begun, you had begun to worry quite a bit over Aemond.

The war had truly begun when Aemond had killed Lucerys Velaryon.

He had claimed it was an accident, while Alicent & Otto had reprimanded him.

Though conflicted, you had decided to believe Aemond when he said it was an accident.

Later on into the war, Aemond was sent to retake Harrenhal.

Once word got back to you that Aemond had ordered the executions of The Strongs, you felt disgusted.

He ordered the death of innocent women & children.

You began to question if the murder of Lucerys was truly an accident.

The more you thought about Aemond, the more you were disgusted by him.

War had changed him. Or had he always been like that?

You decided you were going to leave. You couldn’t share a bed with a man who didn’t think twice about ordering the deaths of children.

It wasn’t as difficult as one would think to leave the castle.

Aemond had taught you about the hidden passages & the layout of them.

You packed a bag and stuffed a pouch with as much gold and diamonds that would fit in it. You put on some of your valuable jewelry as well, in case of an emergency and you need to sell them.

You put on a cloak and grabbed your bag and left, taking a ship to Dorne.

Once Aemond had heard about your disappearance, he returned to King’s Landing as fast as he could, putting Ser Criston Cole in charge of Harrenhal.

Once he had returned to King’s Landing, he hurried to your shared chambers to make sure that what he had heard was true. And it was. You wear no longer in your chambers.

Had someone snuck into the castle and taken you hostage? It was possible.

He soon noticed that some of your jewelry and dresses were gone.

Had you left? To go where? It wouldn’t be to visit your parents. You were far too smart for that.

Aemond Targaryen’s wife was missing and he was going to find you.

And once he does, he was going to make sure you weren’t going to leave him again.

#aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aegon Targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #Aegon ii Targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aemond targaren x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aegon ii targaryen x fem!reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader

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amisa-k · 8 months

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aegon targaryen x sister!reader

a/n: english is not my native language, so please forgive me for any mistakes. I haven't written anything in a long time, so I'm not sure if it turned out well, but this is just a short sketch. and this is my first time writing a fanfic in english and this is my first fanfic about the “house of the dragon” as well. please enjoy!

summary: your brother sneaks into your room at night again

she sleeps in her bed and wakes up from the feeling of someone else's presence. she sleepily rubs her eyes.

“brother?”

“sister...” aegon sits beside her on the bed.

she blinks, still half-asleep, her voice is raspy. “what are you doing here?”

“i couldn't sleep. i thought i'd come and find you.”

she hesitates before speaking.

“you know that mother forbade you to come to my chamber”

he shrugs. “mother is asleep. i thought i could convince you to let me spend some time with you.”

“you don’t need to convince me.” she pulls him closer to lie down on the bed and aegon do just that immediately without hesitation. he waited for it.

“i just worry about you. nobody has seen you?”

“...no one. this was just a small risk i took to see you.” he scoots closer to her and places his arm around her. her warmth and feeling of comfort that she brings are intoxicating.

she lays her head on aegon’s chest.

“remind me what our mother did to you when she caught you in my bed last time?”

his arm tightens around her, not letting her to look at his face.

“she told me I was dishonoring you - that we would never find you a good match if your reputation is sullied. and then she slapped me-“

“but you came to me again anyway. is it worth it?” she looks at him worriedly.

“i don't know what she'll do to me if she finds out we did this again...”

he moves closer to her, kissing her neck.

“but I don't care. you are worth any risk.”

she leans into his so native touch. “i just don’t want her to catch you again”

aegon grins and kisses her cheek. “she will not catch me again, i promise. you need not worry yourself.” he leans down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

«how can i not worry about you? you have always been my most troublesome brother.” her hands gently stroke his hair.

aegon chuckles, “and here i thought it was your most handsome brother.”

shakes her head. “most handsome brother is daeron.”

“you wound me.” he pulls her closer.

she caresses his cheek tenderly.

“don’t worry, i think you’re the most pretty brother”

he chuckles and nuzzles against her.

“you’re a sweet liar, sister. your flattery is as lovely as you are.” he kisses her on the lips and she kisses back softly.

when they pull away she smiles playfully. “flattery? i just saying the truth”

“is that so?” he leans down to kiss her again, this time lingering longer on her lips.

bites his lower lip slightly before breaking the kiss. “the most pretty man i ever met”

he moves his hand to her cheek and caresses gently before moving down to caress her throat. “oh, sister... such lies will go to my head.”

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #house of the dragon x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #aegon ii x y/n

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fairysluna · 5 months

Text

unrequited.

Aegon was unable to keep his love for you as a secret, but he did not expect for you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — angst, unrequited love, inspired by THAT scene from little women, hurt/no comfort, a bit of miscommunication, one sided love, a lot of crying, guilt, cursing, aegon was named heir. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i was sad, i was watching little women, and then i remembered that i haven't written angst in a very long time. It's short, but well, it is what it is. I'm trying to escape the writer's block so bear with me if this isn't perfect, hope you all like it!🤍

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

There was something in the way his eyes looked at you that should have warned you about what was going to happen. Maybe the way his company felt slightly different, or the way he purposely brushed his hand as he walked beside you along the shore of Dragonstone.

A peaceful silence reigned between you two, where only the sound of the sea and seagulls were heard. There was never a need to be talkative whenever you were with him, you two did not need words to express to one another, just a single glance at him and you would be able to read him as if he was a book. It had always been that way. Aegon had never attempted to hide how much he enjoyed your company; no matter how many duties and responsibilities his position might have, he would always find some time during the day to make you company. The mere sound of your cheerful laughter was enough for him to feel whole. Happy.

Your friendship with Aegon began unexpectedly; you were a Lady of a small house, bannermen of the Tyrells. Not even in a million years you would have thought you were going to be one of the heir's closest friends. But you were, and Aegon loved it. You were not like other maidens, you always saw beyond his royal title, beyond the power he would once hold. You saw him as Aegon, Egg as you would sometimes prefer to call him. He loved that you were a breeze of fresh air that would wake him up from his torment every time he felt too overwhelmed.

You were everything for him, an escape of the four wall prison that would often be disguised as a castle. You set him free.

Aegon, inevitably, fell for you in the most beautiful of ways; slowly and unexpectedly. One day he woke up and felt the urge to hold you in his arms each morning; he could not stand another minute without you by his side - it felt almost unnatural to be without your company. His heart found a reason to beat with your presence, his brain would often overshadow his thoughts with silly daydreams about you.

You, you, you. It's always you. It has always been you.

Now, as you were complaining about your Septa scolding you that same morning, Aegon was in awe, mesmerized by you doing such a mundane thing like talking. And, bewitched by the way your lips moved, he stopped his pace. Salty air filling his lungs as he encouraged himself to say what he has been dying to say to you.

You did not realize about it until you were a few steps further than him, and you turned around. He was just looking at you; his puppy, lilac eyes staring at your face almost without blinking. You chuckled nervously, confused about what was happening. You smiled awkwardly, feeling a bit too exposed all of the sudden.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, frowning.

He did not reply, but you saw it in his eyes.

Your smile slowly faded away once the realization hit you, and the atmosphere changed immediately.

“Aegon…” You mentioned his name so differently, it felt almost foreign due to the way it left your lips. It was a plea, you were begging him to not say the words that were about to be pronounced.

He took a step closer; the dreamy glow in his eyes was still there, as if he had not seen the look on your face yet.

“Please, don't,” you managed to say, breathlessly. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt tired. Exhausted, even. You desperately tried to stop it before it was too late.

But you failed.

The weight in your chest became heavier, almost unbearable. Your lower lip was shaking, your legs trembling. You were heartbroken because you knew what you would have to do. Shaking your head, you refused to let him speak, both of you interrupted your words as a desperate attempt to silence each other.

“You need to hear me-”

“-stop this, Aegon-”

“-there’s no use to keep hiding it-”

“-don’t do this-”

“-you know what I'm about to say-”

“-Aegon, please-”

“-I love you.”

The heat of the burning sun was not enough to vanish the coldness that suddenly grew between you two. You closed your eyes, defeated. The silence became painfully awkward, and in that moment Aegon knew the truth.

His heart shattered.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes; they were covered by a layer of tears that were reluctant to escape. He was trying so hard not to fall apart, almost shaking as he stood as stiff as a rock.

“I love you,” he repeated in a whisper, thinking you might have not heard it the first time. “Please… please say it back.”

“Aegon-”

“Please,” he pleaded. His voice was broken and weak, trembling as he choked on a sob. “Please, say it.”

“You cannot do this to me-”

“I have loved you since the first day,” he confessed. “I’ve been trying to deny my feelings, trying to convince myself that it was nothing more, but it is. I need you, I love you more than words could tell, and my heart cannot bear another day without you being mine.”

“Aegon, I don't- I can't-”

“I want you to be my queen, my life companion,” he continued, watching you as you kept shaking your head. “My love, I want everything with you. I want to rule this fucking kingdom with you by my side. Please…”

“Aegon, I'm not fit to rule-”

“Me neither, but we can be a great team, I- I know that-”

“I can't be a queen, I can't marry you,” you interrupted him, trying to make understand your point.

You hated the prohibitions of a title. You see how Aegon was trapped in an invisible cage without escape, and you did not want that for yourself. You wanted freedom, you wanted to travel, to cross the Narrow Sea and meet foreign lands. As a queen, you would be caged; and as a wife to a king, you would be forced to provide him with heirs you do not wish to have yet.

It was selfish, you thought, but it was the thing that would make you happy.

“Aegon, this would never work,” she murmured as she grabbed his hands. He took a sharp breath when he felt your touch. “We're too different, we do not wish for the same things.”

“I know you love me too…. I know you do,” he told you. Some part of himself knew that it was a desperate attempt to try and convince himself that his words were true. But, deep inside, he knew it was not the case; one single glance at you would tell him what he's too afraid to accept.

“You are my best friend, you are the person that I trust the most, you-”

“Because you love me!” he raised his voice.

“I don't, Aegon…” you stopped him before he could say more. His nostrils twitched once he felt the itch on his nose, his lips trembling. “I don't love you like that.”

There was another silence. It was torturous. Aegon pulled his hands away from you. You quickly wiped the rebel tear that fell down your cheek.

“I know you think I'm the one, but I'm not. We would never work, this would only make you miserable-”

“You're the one for me,” he murmured, his eyes lost in the ground.

“I'm not,” you said, trying to reach him, but he just took another step back. “You'll find someone who will love you, who truly deserves you-”

“Am I not worthy of your love?” He suddenly asked, your heart aching at his broken voice.

Gods, you were about to explode.

“You're much more than what I truly deserve, Aegon, you're way better than-”

“I want you, I don't want another. I love you, I could never love anyone else the way I love you!”

“But you will!” you raised your voice to match his. “You will love someone else, and you will forget about me.”

“I can't ever forget about you,” he muttered. He remained quiet for a while before he looked down at you, noticing your teary eyes; a part of him hated himself for making you cry. After a few seconds he said, “I figured you would love me too… After everything we've lived and felt together. I thought we were gonna be happy-”

“You will be happy, Aegon. You'll find a fine young maiden who will give your life a purpose, but that is not me. It cannot be me.”

“You were my purpose,” he murmured, his face covered in tears as his puppy eyes would not look at you.

He felt embarrassed for how broken he was. For how naive he had been to even dare to believe you could possibly love him back. He wondered how he could be so foolish.

“I wish I could be the woman you want, I wish I didn't have to say these things- Aegon!”

He walked away, not wanting to hear any other of your excuses. It hurted enough as it is, your words would only wound him even more.

You tried to stop him, to grab his arm, yelling his name, and try to make him understand you, but he just walked away leaving his footprint on the wet sand as you stood there.

Tears were streaming down your face as you watched him go, one of your hands pressed against your chest as if you were trying to take the pain away. It hurted you to see him so broken, especially when you know it was you the one who caused it.

You had just lost your best friend, and there was no returning point from that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤfollow @by-fairysluna for more updates!

#aegon ii targaryen x you #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #angst #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd angst #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii fic #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd au

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vermithorn · 1 year

Text

* WANTED U

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x fem!stark!reader

summary: aegon misbehaving, you’re done with him... or are you?

contains: angst, name calling, drinking, aegon being shitty, toxic relationship, reader being mean too hehe, sub/dom undertones.

author’s note: hello! this is a mix between two requests i got, the first one was “reader first discovering the soft subby side of aegon” ,,, i took some liberties with this one,,, and the other one was “the reader giving aegon the silence treatment” so yknow what your aegon lover had to do…, ! pls enjoy and remember english isn't my first language ! <; 3

aegon woke up with the worst hangover of his 20 years of life.

his name-day celebrations were last night, and he drank everything until he forgot everyone.

king viserys was very ill to attend the celebrations, so he made sure this one was the very best for his firstborn son.

aegon stirred in his bed, it was too big for him but the number of women he could keep there was high, so he was happy with it. it was probably past midday and no one bothered to wake up aegon, maybe his mother came to her senses and let him sleep more after his nameday.

he remembered a few things, finishing the day with queen alicent screaming at him for some reason he couldn’t remember correctly. meh, he brushed it off, his mother always reprimanded him for little things so he was used to it.

he called servant to get himself cleaned and dressed, the servant stuttered that it was not past midday and he was required to go and have lunch with his family as soon as possible.

on his way to eat, he tried to piece together his memories from last night. everything looked like a blur, he remembered clearly when he started drinking on the main table and then the memories faded away, they came back to his mother screaming and dragging him to his chambers with ser criston cole carrying him on his shoulder.

he stepped on the room and everyone who were chatting happily went quiet, damn, he sighed as he made his way to his seat next to his betrothed, you.

he tried to greet you but you gave him the cold shoulder causing him to frown, you continued eating your meal in silence occasionally chatting with helaena who was sitting next to you.

okay, that behavior from you wasn't that weird, but usually you were polite and even friendly with him. he couldn't recall why you were acting like that.

“nice for you to finally join us, brother.” aegon rolled his eyes as he smiled sarcastically at his younger brother.

“only my baby brother missed me, apparently my betrothed can't relate too much.” you turned around slowly to glare at him, you scoffed as you stood up.

“excuse me, i have some matters to attend right now, thank you for the meal.” you said and left without looking back, he groaned, it was too early for all of this.

queen alicent was staring angrily at him, “why can't you be a good man for once? don't you think it was enough of your words yesterday?”

“enlighten me, mother?”

as queen alicent listed things, one by one, aegon started slowly to remember last night, pin pointing exactly what happened with you.

it was probably his four cup of rum, his favorite. you were sitting by his side as you drank from your little cup, he tried to persuade you to get a cup as big as his but you shook your head, saying how your glass was perfectly fine.

he rolled his eyes as he ordered someone to get him more alcohol, he saw you make a face as his request and decided to confront you. “do you have a problem, love?”

“no, my prince,” you brushed it off sipping from your cup, he frowned and looked away.

a few moments later he decided he wanted to dance, so everyone had to indulge him and dance with him. he swayed around between maidens and ladies of the court who were totally obligated to yield to him as you watched from afar.

it was getting late, and aegon got drunker than ever, it was his nameday after all and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. you watched everything unfold from your seat at the main table.

he started getting handsy with a girl, and she was getting handsy too in return, also as drunk as your betrothed. you stared at him, considering carefully your options, you decided that you had enough and walked towards him quickly.

you grabbed his shoulder, separating him from the girl, “my prince, it's time to leave.” he looked absolutely wasted, staring at you with anger in his eyes.

“leave me alone.” he stated, turning around to return to his endeavors.

you scowled at him defiantly, “no, you heard me, prince aegon.”

“who the fuck do you think you are?” he fully turned towards you, towering you bitterly hostile.

“your betrothed.”

“of course, you love to remind me that every fucking day,” the girl left scared, you stood there unamused. “you're nothing to me more than a cunt to eat when i'm bored and a thing to bear my heirs, please remember that when trying to get me to do something, now get the fuck out of my sight.”

the next thing he knew, he was being carried to his chambers by ser criston cole. his mother screaming things at him, about how he could never treat you like that again, to think about their relationship with the north depended on your marriage with him and how they could not afford that at all.

his head hit the pillows on the bed and he was dead sleep.

oh, oh. it all came back like a punch in the face.

“now you remember, brother?” aemond smirked at him, “i can't believe lady stark didn't hit you in the face right there, i admire her composure.”

he excused himself to his chambers, without touching his food at all. he locked himself there, without caring about the preoccupied knocks from his sister and mocks from his brother. he felt guilty, he didn't thought about you like that at all, you were kind and friendly with him, even when he was annoying and borderline disturbing.

he was in a weird state of mind, queen alicent berating him in any way she could, his grandfather the hand of the king, being the same or maybe worst than his mother. he wasn't good enough for anyone, everyone wanted more of him than he could give.

his name-day was for him, to get drunk and forget everything for a good solid minute, but apparently that wasn't possible.

you didn't deserve that treatment, you were only trying to take care of him and he treated you like trash. you deserved better than a drunk like him.

he waited a few hours to head down to your designated chambers, knocking on your door softly.

“wait!” you rushed to the door, expecting everyone except prince aegon, your face falling at the sight of him leaning on your doorframe. “prince aegon, what do you need?” you said politely, but with a stoic face.

“i wanted to talk with you,” shit, this was harder than he thought. “i actually wanted to apologize.” you sighed as you moved to the side to let him into your chambers, closing the door behind you.

he sat carefully into your bed, making himself comfortable under your rigid gaze. he looked at you with caution, afraid you'll run away from him like the others, like his family always did.

“first, i want to say that i am sorry for my behavior last night, you were only trying to take care of me and i was distasteful to say the least.” you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “second, i wanted you to now that i do not think that, i mean, about what i said last night.”

“about how i am nothing to you? or the cunt and womb part of your little pathetic speech?” he winced, looking away from your stoic face.

he expected to you to break, shed some tears, sob, anything. but you stood there, with your arms crossed and that unbreakable aura you always had, that typical northmen thing common-folk talked about sometimes.

“i do not care, prince aegon,” he looked back at you, your eyes hard on him, “we are to get married, this is not a love bond, this is a political alliance between our houses.”

“then why you were trying to get me to leave yesterday if you don't care?” he quickly counter asked, regretting it instantly by the way you stared down at him.

“maybe i don't want people in the court talking how my betrothed is fucking other girls in front of me.” you said exposing your possessive tone, he shivered.

“you do care, then.” you took a step towards him, towering him like he did the night before.

“what if i care, you made sure to let me know what you think of me yesterday,” you spat, “to me you're nothing more than a pathetic drunk whore.”

his eyes watered at how could you think so little of him, feeling hypocritical of his own thoughts. you grabbed his jaw to make him look at you, “so if you want this relationship to work, you need to start respecting me, or i'll go home and come back with the whole north behind my back.”

he nodded the best he could with your grip on his jaw, sobbing slightly. you tilted your head, cleaning a few tears that went down his face with your other hand.

“i am sorry, l-love,” he stuttered, “i know you don't care about my apology but i am sorry.” you nodded, your features softening at the sight of the prince sobbing on your hand, you loosened your grip on his jaw and placed your hand on the side of his face.

“why are you crying, my prince?” he exhaled, closing his eyes while leaning on your hand.

“i don't want to be like this anymore,” he opened his eyes slowly to see you looking down at him, eyes soft. “all my life my mother has put her life goals on me, i don't want to be what she wants me to be, she never lets me be my own person so i always do this, to get her attention sometimes, maybe even my father could-”

you interrupted him, “okay, i think i get it now.”

you looked at him, his face soft against your hand, he was slightly hiccuping and it was the first time he shared his personal thoughts with you. the pieces of his behavior were slowly connecting in your head, he just wanted to be reassured, he wanted to be good enough for his family.

you couldn't excuse his behavior, but you started to get it. he was soon to become your husband, so you decided you'll do your very best to get him in the right path.

“you could start talking to me, normally.” you stated, he nodded quickly.

“i like being choked and praised,” you raised your eyebrows. “that is not normal enough?”

it was okay, it was a start, you decided to indulge him, “what else, my prince?” you said caressing his face.

“i usually require to be told i am a good boy.” he nodded enthusiastically.

your grip on his jaw hardened, he gasped, “are you, though? i'll need you in your very best behavior for me.”

his eyes lit up, “i'll do my best for you, love.”

#aegonii #tvrgvryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #got #game of thrones #aegon targaryen smut #haelena targaryen #aemond targaryen

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 month

Text

His Love

|Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Three

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I just wanted to warn y'all that we're going to be getting into some messed up shit here. Even more messed up than assault, getting drugged, nearly raped, and peeing on yourself. As always, thank you so much for your patience with these updates, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of a miscarriage and related thoughts, vomiting, daddy Daemon.

The prescribed charcoal remedy had long dried on your stomach, cracking and flaking gray chunks into your sheets. Helaena had left with the sun low in the sky, leaving chaste kisses on yours and Aegon's foreheads. She went to ensure Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were comfortable, and they went down to rest.

Aegon refused to move when the Maester returned for the evening; his arm slung over your chest and nose buried into your neck. Orwyle did his work as if the Prince was not there, wringing a damp, woolen cloth into a bowl of cool water as he removed the hardened remedy from your abdomen.

He observed with wrinkled brows when he saw the Valyrian symbols above your womb, rocking the fabric over your malleable skin as he quelled the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He rinsed the material, the clear water becoming ash as he continued his duties.

Orwyle longed to voice his concerns regarding your health, fiddling with his fingers as he concocted another batch of charcoal and clay. You needed to wake soon so he could ensure your best chance of survival. The first forty-eight hours were the most crucial for those battling Poison Hemlock, and the fact that the Stranger had not taken you was a miracle. Animals who ingested the flowering plant died within a day of doing so, their lungs giving out or seized by convulsions.

The Maester believed you were more robust than he thought. The Mother had unquestionably blessed you with the strength of the Warrior to have you breathing for this long. Or perhaps, he thought, it was the Valyrian Gods of your ancestors, the dragon blood in your veins, that protected you.

The few interactions Orwyle had with you always left him with a joyful feeling, a small ray of light within his darkened quarters filled with dusty and ancient tomes. He tried not to care for your health more than that of a provider and his patient, but he found it challenging.

It was the dichotomy, he thought, of when you were awake, full of life, sparring with words and the swords against men who believed themselves better than you, to now, laying on your soft feather tick mattress with an emotionless, sallow hue to your skin. It caused him anguish. Orwyle was determined to find out who would do such a thing to you, uncharacteristically desiring them to be brought to the Father's justice, and resolved to remind Aegon of the need to do so when your two servants entered the chamber.

Once he finished making another concoction, Aegon waved him off, leaving with a firm yet uneasy bow to the room. The moment he left, Aegon stood, righting his rumpled tunic from his few restless hours of sleep, and addressed Fiora and Jeyne.

"What news have you?" he asked pointedly, gathering the ashy mucilage and brush to apply to your abdomen.

The maids shared a look, Fiora's eyes seeming to have never dried up as she cowered behind her companion. Jeyne inhaled a resolute breath. Her years of working for spoiled, impuissant palace goers was a typical occurrence.

"We have found a servant boy who claims to have seen the Princess's protector enter her chambers hours before your discovery. I believe that there is no coincidence to his absence at her door during that time," she relayed in one steady breath, hands clasped humbly over her lower abdomen.

Aegon grunted, disbelieving the credibility of such a statement. It would be the most obvious answer for Ser Arryk to be the culprit. He was heartbroken that his idyllic image of you shattered and the only one besides Aegon who could get close enough to slip poison in unnoticed. The answer was too simple, too straightforward to be true. A lowly kingsguard was the easiest to blame to save face within the royal family and protect whoever really did this. He still had the feeling within him that his mother had something to do with this. It was no coincidence that days prior, the Queen demanded you to leave, and now suddenly, you were at death's door.

Yes, heartbroken and ego-damaged men were a danger to those around them. Aegon understood that more than any, but Arryk would never go so far as to kill you for it. His oath was still to that of the King.

"Bring me this boy," Aegon said dispassionately, never looking in the maid's direction, simply painting your skin.

Fiora and Jeyne nodded, curtsying as was protocol, and headed for the exit until Aegon stopped them short.

"I'm sure you know that the Hand has barred any ravens from King's Landing to Dragonstone," he inquired, unamused as a sneer curled his lip. "Her family must know what has happened here. The more who know about this assassination attempt on a, perhaps this rat will feel pressured reveal themselves."

They both glanced at each other, Fiora gnawing on her lip as more tears emerged from her viridian eyes. Aegon ignored the servant's weeping and placed the bowl on a writing desk with the rest of the Maester's equipment. He pulled a piece of folded cream parchment from his trousers and hurriedly scribbled, fearing someone getting wind of his plan.

"Here is a letter meant for her father," he stated, flicking the paper between his index and middle finger. "You will not be able to send it through the rookery and must go to a brothel madame within the slums of Flea Bottom. Her name is Babette and she will ensure that my words make it to Dragonstone unhindered," Aegon instructed calmly.

They were stunned. Both maids stood in the doorway to your chambers with slightly parted lips, reminding him of a fish. They had never seen him act like such a... prince. He was raised within the castle walls and had the highest education of anyone in Westeros, yet he never seemed to take advantage of it. The maids heard rumors that Aegon was no longer seen at brothels or gambling houses, though they did not believe such a thing to be valid until now.

Fiora's gaze drifted to your listless form, fiery brows arched in disbelief, slowly drifting back to the white-haired prince. Jeyne was the first of the duo to compose herself and briskly walked forward, taking the wax three-headed dragon seal to her cracked hands. You had changed Aegon in ways that people believed impossible, and if she hadn't realized it until now, then who else knew?

If she, someone who saw you daily, did not know the effort and influence you had over a person, did anyone? The eldest maid felt a pang of sadness in her heart for you as weathered eyes lowered to the stone floor, the memory of her scrubbing away your blood and bile replaying as if she were there again.

Jeyne heard passing gossip that you had brought up concern for the small folk during a council meeting. It was fleeting, nothing more than a whisper of a feather drifting in the wind, and soon she forgot about it. What other accomplishments had you done that no one knew of? It was the plight of women, it seemed, to sacrifice one's soul to receive respect or recognition in the world. Once you awoke, she would tell you how much she saw and that your actions were not in vain.

If you woke up, she grimly realized.

A frown pulled at Jeyne's thin lips as she returned to Fiora's side. Her companion seemed to sense the elder's thoughts, placing a comforting hand at her back. Again, She faced Aegon, his violet eyes never leaving hers as she spoke.

"You are changed, Prince Aegon, and while that does not atone for the wrongs you have done, it shows that you are capable of being better," Jeyne expressed with a firm look on her visage. "It would do her well to know that."

Aegon needn't ask whom she was speaking of. He already knew, a sullen look coming over his face as he focused on the cracks of the stone floor. The memory of your limp body when he found you vividly displayed in his mind's eye.

Jeyne and Fiora exited with brief nods and bent knees, with two different goals in mind. The elder would get the servant boy, and the younger would go to the brothel, madame. They didn't ask why Aegon trusted this woman, but they knew it was useless to try. All that mattered now was ensuring your safety and justice.

A quiet groan caused Aegon to lose his collection of thoughts, swiftly going to your side as he watched your brows arch in pain. Droplets of sweat he had not noticed glistened on your hairline and ran down your temples, grabbing a cloth to blot at the excess perspiration. Your breathing sped, breasts rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. Seeing you more alive as Aegon rang the dampened fabric into the bowl was a relief.

Aegon slid into his place next to you, intertwining his fingers with your limp ones as he brought your knuckles to his lips, stroking the thin skin of your hand. His lips pursed in thought. Aegon knew the Keep was full of snakes ready to strike at any opportunity to raise themselves into higher power, no matter the cost. But in his mind, it was too risky to harm a member of the royal family, but others did not seem to share the same sentiment, and anger filled his hardened soul once more.

Aegon tightened his grip on your hand, harsh enough to bend their sides and crackle the bones.

"When you wake, little one, we shall rain dragon fire on who dared hurt you," he declared, sullen face now calloused.

If you wake...

***

You found yourself within a void, darkness surrounding your body clad in a simple white gown. You couldn't see the beginning or end of where you were, as if your eyes were shut, an unending blackness never touched by light. Your hands found their way to your face, fingertips touching your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and the sockets of your eyes to ensure you were, in fact, real.

Memories flashed within your mind, becoming the only thing you could see in the infinite darkness. You recalled voices, wet mouths talking and drinking, tongues licking lips and tasting something rancid and sweet, hands gesturing and twitching, crawling up your legs. Nausea churned your stomach, and pain rippled in your gut, causing you to fall to your knees. The ground was solid; it was real, and suddenly your eyes opened.

The world was still midnight, though you could see a man before you.

But it wasn't a man...

You weren't sure if it was a person, their face covered with an obsidian mantle and the seven-pointed star's insignia woven into their robes. Fear cinched your heart, and your chest rose and fell with quick breaths as you attempted to run, only to be flung back into your spot by an invisible force.

"Who-" you stammered, breaths coming in quick pants, "who are you? Where am I? I-I cannot see."

The being reached an arm in your direction, the fabric slowly drawing back to reveal its skin or lack thereof. Their finger slowly traced down your cheek, cold and warm, comforting and alarming, yet like nothing simultaneously.

"I am what I am," they stated, tone unlike anything you had ever heard. It sounded like the voices of many speaking simultaneously, men, women, children, and everything in between melting into one eerie noise.

"You're here to hurt me, aren't you?" The words did not sound like they came from a grown woman; instead, a young girl high-pitched and hoydenish with fright as tears lined your lashes. Your breath hitched as their fingers left your skin, fear scratching at your throat and squeezing your eyes shut. "Where am I?"

The being stepped backward, seeming to float on the ground as sparkles of white flashed in the air. Stars, you realized, twinkling in the infinite void. For a moment, you were put into a state of wonder, gazing at the bursts of light in awe as the being only stared. It made no movements nor breaths, allowing you to take in the amazement of your surroundings.

"Am I dead?" you asked, finally gaining the courage to voice the most prevalent question in your mind.

"You are in the world between worlds, child. Not dead yet not alive within the realm of your creation," they answered with not a hint of emotion.

You couldn't hide the aghast sob that left your lips at his revelation, your mind reeling. You knew what happened for you to wake here. You drank from a cup tainted with poison that caused your limbs to freeze and your brain to wave, but who did it was unknown. The only picture within your mind was a silhouette of a figure with short, mousy hair and a slouched posture, supporting their weight on something.

You knew who they were. You felt it in your bones, but your mind refused to let you see. Was that your psyche subconsciously trying to protect you, or did the poison affect your memory?

"I don't want to die! What did I do to deserve this?" you wept with blurred vision, looking at the unmoving being before you.

You felt them sigh, though they did not move, their chest not indicating if they had lungs. "New born babes should not be taken from the world before they can sin, yet they are."

An involuntary grimace pulled your face as you licked the briny water from your lips. The world was cruel and uncaring. It took children from mothers before they were ready and kind people into places of darkness. Life was bleak and hopeless and full of negativity. At times, you wondered if there was a point to living when life would always end the same—breathing, eating, fighting, and suffering until you died and were forgotten a hundred years from now.

"I know who you are," you spat, tongue thick as you swallowed tears. "You are a callus and heartless being who takes those undeserving while displaying yourself in a cloak of self-righteousness."

They did not seem angry about what you said and tilted their head in response, examining you like one of Helaena's pinned insects. Its unseen stare unnerved you, appearing like a statue you never prayed to within the Sept. Anger began to well in the place of your unease at their indifference, taking purposeful strides to them before your body was abruptly taken aback, nearly tripping over your feet.

"I am neither good nor evil, simply I am, and I have come to take what is mine."

It raised the same arm that stroked your cheek and pointed at you, causing panic to grip your chest as the shrouded hands shoved you to the ground, air knocking from your lungs. You struggled against them, the whites of your eyes visible as your arms and legs flailed in their vice-like grip. The being came closer, towering over your writhing form until you could see what hid underneath the obsidian hood.

A face not of this world looked down at you, half human and inhuman, alive yet dead. It was too much for your mind to comprehend as you released a scream, kicking your limbs as you desperately tried to escape from whatever fate awaited you.

The hands pulled at your hair, keeping your head down and unable to see the face of the Stranger any longer.

"No! No, please! I don't want to die!" you beseeched, throat raw from tears and screams as your wide-eyed stare found the Stranger at your feet once more.

"I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood and I have come to take what is mine—one soul. No less," they repeated in an amalgamation of different tones. Your heart broke for the loss not only of life but of what might be.

The Stranger's accusing finger continued to point not at you but at your stomach, your misty stare flickering from yourself to them.

You knew what was to come next. They would rip your heart out before your very eyes, crushing your life source within the secular realm and the divine. You would never wake again, never feel the sun flush your skin or the wind whipping your cheeks on dragon back. Aegon would revert to his old ways of whoring, gambling, and drinking himself into unconsciousness, a crown forced on his head as the realm plunged into war and your kin were slaughtered. Every sacrifice would be for not all due to one simple drink.

Refusing to resign to your fate, you thrashed and screamed in failed attempts at breaking free. There was no escape to this realm—no beginning or end in the vast darkness. There was only you, these unseen hands pulling you into submission, and the Stranger, his digit still raised and pointed.

"What have I done to deserve this?" you wailed, feeling your limbs locked at the joints. "I-I know I was not a devoted follower of the Faith and have sinned, but I repent. I'll pay penance to the Seven each day forth from now on. I'll attend services in the Grand Sept. I'll-I'll refrain from any vices you so wish. Just let me live!"

Your bargaining with the faceless being went unheard, his arm slowly falling to its side as you felt the hidden fingers slither across your abdomen, tearing your nightgown down the middle. Your eyes grew wide with horror, attempting to pry them away with panicked movements only to be thwarted by the others pushing your limbs into the ground.

"Stop!" you screamed, voice cracking as your neck was whipped back, head cracking onto the ground as your vision flashed.

Though you couldn't see them, you could feel them. Their digits indented into your malleable flesh as it broke under pressure, blood seeping from the gashes as a searing pain tore like a thousand cuts of a hot blade through your skin. Blood poured from your stomach and down your sides, soaking your tattered porcelain nightgown into a stained crimson. Wailing in agony, your throat grew sore, limbs twisting and contorted into inhuman positions as you gave under their ravenous scratching.

"Blessed be you, the daughter of the Mother bound to suffer eternal through the sins of your father committed long before your conception," the Stranger prayed, words carrying over your cries. "Blessed be your whore mother, tired and angry, waiting with bated breath on a ferry that will never move again. Blessed be the children. Each and every one who have come to know their god through some senseless act of violence."

The exposed image of your essence caused your heart to become faint, the torment fading into the back of your mind as your vision fluttered and your head became light. It was a small mercy in the ruthless death that you could no longer feel the torture of your organs torn into, limbs twitching in subconscious reflexes.

"Blessed be you, girl, promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you."

The squelching of your insides was sickening as silent tears leaked down your temples, confused as to how you were still alive. No human could survive being disemboweled; the blood loss alone would kill the most robust of men, yet the invisible beings continued to burrow into your insides, seeming as if in search of something.

The Stranger did not move from its place at your feet, observing as your intestines glistened in the twinkling lights of the void.

You felt betrayed by them and those who preached that the Stranger was not a being of good or evil. They were supposed to guide you into the afterlife, not watch as beings threw your organs to the side. They lied. No being would stand there and allow a daughter of the Mother to have her insides turned out. You never feared the Stranger yourself. Death was inevitable, but now you understand why followers of the Seven feared the Stranger.

Cries that were higher pitched than yours yanked you into reality, a single thread pulling your gaze back to your stomach as a babe covered in crimson, glistening with your essence, was ripped from your womb. Confusion, fear, surprise, and desperation surged through you, attempting to pry yourself from your confines again. The cord connecting the child to you still pulsed with blood through the purple and blue veins as it was taken and placed into the hands of the Stranger.

"What are you doing?" you questioned with a thick tone, panic seizing your limbs as you broke from their unseen grip.

That was yours—something you made solely of your labor, and they were taking it from you. It belonged to you!

You desperately yanked at the fleshy cord still connecting you to your child, the babe's shriek piercing your ears and into your heart. "Please, give it back!" you sobbed, reaching out again only to be shoved. "No! No, please! Please give me back my child! They are mine! They don't deserve this."

You were unsure of what came over you. You had never met this creature before, though it was born of your flesh and blood; you did not want them taken. An instinct to protect the life of something so fragile and innocent lay dormant within your body, coming to fruition. The thought of sacrificing yourself in the babe's place nearly slipped off your tongue, but a sudden light blinded you, pushing the cries of your kin to fade as your eyes burned.

When you came to, you were no longer in an infinite void. Instead, within your chambers, thick, fragrant smoke choked your lungs as the same searing agony from before tore through you. Aegon stood over your writhing form, and his brows arched with concern as he saw your sheets become scarlet.

You stared at him, his eyes glassy and filled with an exhausted longing, as he rushed to your side, grasping your slick palm. "You're alive!" he exclaimed, unable to think clearly through his shock. "You're alive."

Unable to speak, you nodded, sweat and tears dampening your face as another wave of pain knotted within your lower back, forcing a scream. Aegon's violet eyes danced over you, seeing your blood now spread onto your top blanket as his cheeks became devoid of color.

An array of thoughts swirled within his mind like a maelstrom at sea, swiftly lifting the sheet away as he saw the crimson between your legs. His first instinct was to believe that, somehow, the assassin had returned underneath his watchful gaze, paranoia seizing his chest. But Aegon, still confused as to what was happening, gripped your hand impossibly tighter, causing a groan that rumbled in your lungs.

"The Maester," you managed to breathe through gritted teeth. "Get the Maester, Aegon."

He paused for a moment too long, and another cramp went through you, wailing with a clenched jaw and shut eyes as your body arched in pain. The prince did not need to be told twice as he watched the woman he loved beg the Gods for mercy, swiftly exiting your room as he ran to Orwyle's chambers, your cries becoming distant within the pale red stone walls.

The man in question opened the door with tired eyes to the Prince's incessant pounding. He did not need him to explain. He knew it had something to do with you as he hastily gathered supplies and the seven-pointed star necklace on his person. What Orwyle did not expect to see when he entered your humid chambers were you on all fours, grunting and straining with blood-soaked hands and bedclothes, sweat discoloring your once pristine nightdress.

He went quickly into action, ordering Aegon to summon your maids as he stood there listlessly, unable to comprehend the urgent words over the sounds of your shrieks. Aegon was unsure when he finally summoned Jeyne and Fiora, the pair looking perplexed before spotting their Lady. Both quickly went into action, following Maester Orwyle's instructions, scattering in and out of your chambers with different items.

Aegon could not think as he observed the events unfold before him. It was all too much. He couldn't process the abrupt chain of events. One moment, you were laying there, breaths barely audible, now suddenly panting and sobbing for an end he was not sure he wanted to see. Aegon did not know if this was an effect of the poison as his distant eyes met yours, lips mouthing something he strained to hear. He could not bear to lose you. He finally had love within his grasp after years of yearning only for it to be promptly taken away before properly basking in its warmth.

Aegon, who was so focused on the end of something, could not see the future before him, staring with violet-rimmed pupils within thick lashes, begging him to bring comfort. Finally, he could hear you, a rush of sounds and voices barraging his senses as you strained a grunt for him to come near.

You took his fist in yours, the other clutching the footboard as sweat ran down your neck. It felt as if your head was about to burst from your skull with each contraction, panting like an exerted animal.

"It's almost over now, Princess. You just need to pass the biggest part," encouraged Jeyne, a soothing maternal presence in a place that lacked it. "Come now. In through your nose and push out your mouth."

Nodding fervently, you did as told, inhaling deeply and growling with downward force, bringing your arm to wrap around Aegon for support. You needed the closeness and comfort a loved one brought as you went through this traumatic event.

Tears from above sprinkled on your damp hair. Streaks of wetness lined Aegon's cheeks as much as they did yours as another cramp rolled through you.

"What's happening?" he whispered against your cheek, breath uncomfortably hot.

Surprise dawned on your features as the pain ebbed for a merciful moment, resting on your knees. Your free hand grasped his silver roots in support as your other led Aegon down to your stomach, unable to speak. He stared with wrinkled brows and glassy purple eyes as you allowed him to apply pressure there. You need not tell him the reason in words as he glanced down. It could only be one thing.

"You are with child?" he questioned softly, tenderly stroking the area with his thumb.

You nodded, the cramps rising and commanding your body to gush more gelatinous blood. "I saw her. She was right there and they took her from me. Straight from my womb as she wailed."

"Who? Who took her from you?" he asked, free head tangling within your matted hair as you rested your forehead against his.

"The Stranger."

Aegon believed this to be the ramblings of someone in labor, the blood loss not helping to have a clear mind.

The death of a child, whether in this realm or within the womb, hurts immeasurably. The loss of something you could see and touch, something you formed a connection with, brought immense suffering to you and many of those around you, but it wasn't grief to bear alone. Having a life stolen from inside you created feelings of failure and doubts about your body's natural capabilities in isolation, morphing into self-blame and loathing of what could have been if only you were different.

But it was not your fault, not in this or any other sense. Your body did its natural process of protecting you, and even though you did not meet the child in its complete form, there was still a connection to mourn.

So deep within your thoughts, you did not hear the opening of oak doors, two pairs of footfalls storming into the room as your support was suddenly ripped away. Your fists balled into the crumpled sheets in compensation. Aegon struggled in Ser Criston's ironclad grip on his collar as you felt the sudden urge to push, push, push.

"Yes, Princess, yes! Keep going, more is coming out! You're almost finished," Fiora cheered, kneeling in Aegon's place as she clasped her fists around yours.

"Bring him back! I want Aegon!" you shouted. "I need him, please!"

At your cries, the Prince felt panic begin to take root, a terror and desperation to get to you that was so visceral that he did the only thing he could. Aegon growled and bit down on the fleshy part of Ser Criston's palm that met his thumb and forefinger, breaking the skin as blood stained his lips scarlet. The knight howled in pain, releasing the Prince on instinct as he attempted to return, only to have his mother stand in the way.

"Aegon, you needn't worry about her now. She is in capable hands," Alicent attempted to placate, her voice as gentle and maternal as when he was a child.

He paid no mind to her false coos and shoved the Queen out of his way, uncaring as she landed into a corner of furniture that stabbed her side. Ser Criston swiftly regained his composure at his Lady's shriek, once again grabbing Aegon by the fabric of his tunic and towards the exit.

"She is your Queen and mother! How dare you lay hands on her!" Criston admonished and struck the Prince with an armored grip upside his head as if he were no more than an insolent mutt.

You protested the action, begging the Queen, Ser Criston, the Maester, or anyone who would hear your pleas to bring Aegon back to you, but no one listened. The Queen was the highest authority in the room. Her word was law, and you were nothing but a lowly bastard dressed in fancy clothes and titles left without regard.

"Mother! Please, don't do this. She's with child!" the Prince beseeched, unruly locks of unkempt silver strewn across his pale face.

"Not anymore," Ser Criston jeered as his vision met the blood-stained sheets, dragging a raging Aegon away.

Alicent stood, righting herself and smoothing the fabric of her peridot gown with jeweled fingers. "You do not have the right to make such demands, Aegon. Leave at once. We shall discuss this later."

She couldn't stand to look at him, the shame of everything weighing heavier than all man's sins, as Alicent turned her brown orbs away from her son. He had sired bastards before, as had many Targaryen men, but one within his own house, with another bastard no less, was too much for the Queen's mind to comprehend.

The doors to your chambers slammed shut, rattling your bones as sobs of defeat tore through your throat. Your body did not allow you to mourn Aegon's absence, focusing your efforts as your muscles forcefully contracted, expelling the last of the thick matter out of your womb and onto the bedclothes. Fiora stroked your sweat-knotted hair as the pain subsided into dull cramps, reminding you of a particularly rough moon's blood, lungs slowly inhaling as your body relaxed.

Maester Orwyle began dabbing at your temples and neck as you sat, breathing heavily through your nose. "You did well, my lady," he praised quietly, glancing over his shoulder to Alicent, who stood staring into the hearth with her thumb in her mouth.

You sighed in acknowledgment, eyes briefly shutting as your fury gave you the energy to speak. "You are a cruel woman, Alicent." Your words were a dagger straight to her heart as you wiped your stained hands on your nightgown.

She turned to you and quickly placed her arms at her side, trying to put on an air of pomp that the situation did not need. "Tis hardly proper for a man to witness the pains of a miscarriage," she answered as if rehearsed.

"Proper?" you asked rhetorically. "I was dying and all you cared about was fucking propriety?" you snarled, rising to your knees with a wince, nerves alight.

The Queen did not dare say more, her conscience gnawing at the back of her mind like her teeth to her lip. "I know this was your doing," you spat, allowing Jeyne to help you onto your plush settee as the Maester began to clean your stained thighs.

The two women who had been with you since the moment you were forced to call the Red Keep a home gathered your soiled linens, stripping your bed without needing to be told. The sight brought warmth to your heart you had thought died moments ago. Through the brief time of Ser Dalton Greyjoy's presence to dutifully covering marks left behind from stolen moments with Aegon, Jeyne and Fiora's loyalty did not waver. Most maids would be eager to pass on gossip and rumors among the nobility for a chance at some coin. Or perhaps to provide themselves some entertainment in their less fortunate lives, but your two maidservants did not.

You were overwhelmed by a sudden gratefulness for them, longing to bring them into your embrace to sing praises and shout thank yous, but the Queen's looming presence forbade it. There was uncertainty about why she was here. Undoubtedly, the same woman who all but told you to leave King's Landing was not concerned for your well-being. You were hardly but an insect pestering her with your annoying, buzzing wings.

"Is it not enough that you've murdered the last remaining blood of my mother? Now you must take the life of my unborn child," you grunted, adjusting your position on the plush, emerald cushions as nausea struck through your core.

The Queen gasped, and everyone in the room looked weary, certain they were not supposed to hear this. "I would do no such thing, Princess," Alicent rebutted with a horror-stricken expression. "You are being unreasonable. 'Twas whoever snuck into your chambers and poisoned you that did this! Do not blame me for your misfortune."

A hollow laugh escaped your chest at her words, swallowing the bile that rose with the lingering cramps. "Oh, but how fortunate for you," you replied bitterly, the jab tasting acrid on your tongue. You wanted her to leave, to let you grieve the loss of a future you would never know, but she refused, implanting herself into the lives of others to ensure her gains were met. "Have I not earned my place here? Have I not sacrificed enough?"

"You know nothing of sacrifice," Alicent rejected quickly, snapping her avoidant gaze to yours.

"Don't I?" you chortled. The laughter sent your stomach into knots, but you pressed on, nudging Maester Orwyle away to stand upright, much to his concern. "Have I not done what you commanded of me? Kept your son from whoring and drinking himself to death on the streets of Flea Bottom? Do you remember the day you wrote to me? How you implored me to come to King's Landing and herd your son back to the Keep?" you sneered, tears of frustration and sadness welling in your puffy, bloodshot eyes.

No matter how desperately you wished to do so, you would not break in front of the Queen, heart empty as you spoke, blood trickling down your leg. "I have done what you asked and more. I've made Aegon understand the responsibility of his birth. He does not gamble or whore, gluttony is no longer a vice. He's become a better husband, brother, and father. He is everything you want him to be because of me!" Your voice wavered, barely containing a gag that pulled your lip muscles, threatening to become something more.

Realization struck you as you observed the Queen stand underneath your rage. All your life, you have served others to attain recognition in their eyes, whether to prove yourself competent or receive the love and acceptance every child craved. With your father, desperately eager to please him, to show him and all others that you were not the baseborn bastard daughter of a whore---that you could hold your own and make a name for yourself. Your desperation to prove yourself would be your downfall, but no longer would you allow yourself to be the subject of your insecurities. Worth was not dictated by what you did for others but by what you thought of yourself.

"Now that I no longer serve to further your schemes of putting Aegon on the throne, you see it fit to discard me as if I am nothing but a piece thrown about the board, sacrificed to achieve victory." Your anger was palpable, striking the Queen into her soul without physical action.

Alicent inhaled sharply, glancing at your maids and the Maester, who had all seemed to have halted their tasks. Your words were a mirror to her as anxiety began to flutter within her gut underneath so many stares. Hands once primly placed at her side were now picking at the skin of one another, a nervous tick she never broke. She did not know these people. She did not trust them not to run to the nearest lord, who was desperate for Rhaenyra's favor with word of treachery.

"What you claim is treason and not from a sound mind," she protested, her voice velvet. The Queen knew that if she spent a moment longer discussing secrets that had been unsaid, they would finally surface to harm the steps made to plant Aegon on the throne.

You opened your mouth to speak once more, but Alicent's smooth voice was quick to interject.

"Maester, I believe the Princess has gone into hysteria due to the poison. She is not thinking clearly."

You began to argue, but the feeling of nausea overcame you, and you quickly stumbled to your chamber pot as the little contents of your stomach exited. Fiora and Jeyne rushed to your side, holding your tangled strands from your face as the other rubbed soothing circles across your lower back.

"Her hysteria is dangerous to herself and those around her, Maester. I believe milk of the poppy will numb her mind enough until she is well again," Alicent said with pursed lips, staring down at your hunched back from under her nose.

Orwyle blanched, understanding that this was not a suggestion but a request. Who was he to deny the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms? "Your thoughtfulness for the Princess moves me deeply, your grace. However, any attempt to sedate her now would put her at more unneeded risk. She has lost far too much blood, and I must monitor her health."

The Queen's jaw clenched, teeth grinding at the man's tenacity. What did you have that gave people such a steadfast honor to protect you? Unlike her, you could not give them titles, land, or money in compensation. She was the Queen. They were supposed to serve her and bend to her will. Yet, they tended to your well-being with unyielding devotion, even in the face of one of Westeros's most influential people. Why did they not stand with her? Did a Queen not offer more than a bastard? Why not her?

Why not me? Why not me? Why not me?

Envy ran hot through her veins at the thought.

The three servants knew what this was—an attempt to control the situation and narrative, to prove that Queen Alicent would remain the all-encompassing figure of power and dominance, not some young, pretty bastard girl who bewitched all those around her.

"I shall not allow another danger to lurk about my home, especially one that deceives. We already have her assassin to worry about." She ignored your scoff, her words velvet but holding an icy undertone.

When Maester Orwyle did not move, Alicent shifted, palms conjoined just below her heart as she raised a manicured brow. "Do it Maester or I will have my guards do it for you."

He hesitated again, gaze flickering to your slouched one leaning onto your ladies for support. You gave him a solemn nod, conveying with a single look that you would not resist. If this would get Alicent to leave the four of you alone and allow you to mourn peacefully... so be it. It would be better for you and them. You would not have to think about what happened for at least a little longer, and perhaps the pain would be gone when you woke, and your beloved Prince would be at your side once more. But hope was a double-edged sword. Each side was as sharp and brutal as the other and cut equally profoundly.

***

The air was cold on Dragonstone, with a salty bite stinging Prince Daemon's flushed cheeks as he stood on a brimstone balcony overlooking where Blackwater Bay met the Narrow Sea. The moons spent without his daughter chipped at his war-hardened soul, revealing the center he kept tucked away, though many did not see it.

People believed Daemon to be a cruel, calculating man deserving of the title "Rogue Prince." And while they were not wrong, it did not mean that the same sentiment traveled to the treatment of his family. He was devoted to his wife, stepsons, and true-born children, tending to them as a shepherd would his flock. He no longer cared for the war in the Stepstones or any battle, focusing his efforts on the future, a future for his family that seemed to grow more uncertain as his brother's health declined.

While he did feel guilt knock at his hollow chest when he thought about his eldest daughter, the life she was born into, the life she was kept from and forced to live, he did not have regrets. Daemon would, a thousand times over, accept you into his heart.

You were a part of him he did not know was missing, fitting so perfectly into his cracked soul that not even Rhaenyra's love could mend. You are as much of his blood as the young Aegon, Viserys, and the babe that grew stronger every passing day within his wife's womb. There was a special connection between the two of you that only a father of a girl could comprehend. He now understood why his brother passed him in favor of Rhaenyra becoming heir, for if he had the choice, you would serve to inherit all he had.

Daemon longed to have you at his side again, listening intently to whatever thoughts, happenings, and plans you had. The council meetings around the Painted Table grew increasingly irksome as he patiently awaited your next raven. Rhaenyra brought Jace along to more than one gathering with the pompous lords. Daemon admired the boy's fire and tenacity, yet he always seemed to lack the mature awareness you seemed to possess—no doubt a byproduct of your vastly different upbringings.

It had been a sennight since your last word, the longest Daemon had ever waited, and he grew antsy with each passing hour. He found himself pacing the sandy beaches across the island, climbing the same mountains and hills he forced you to in training. Memories were what he felt he had left of you now and that of the written word.

"My love."

He heard his wife's tender voice calling him inside. "You will hear from her soon. I know it."

Rhaenyra's soft hand found Daemon's, bringing it to the growing bump underneath her Myrish lace dress. The notion grounded him as much as her as they pressed their foreheads together, sharing a kiss full of all the longing and melancholy he kept hidden within himself.

It was not until late evening, as he and his wife retired to their chambers for rest, that a footman knocked, revealing a single piece of parchment atop a bronze platter. Daemon's heart leaped for joy, knowing it could only be one thing, and he hastily tore at the three-headed dragon seal.

Rhaenyra allowed her husband to read in silence, brushing out her long, snowy hair as she hummed a tune her late mother used to sing, absentmindedly stroking the life tucked below her breast. When her task was done, and she had secured herself within her thick nightdress, she turned to Daemon, his hunched spine facing her over their shared writing desk.

"What news does she have, my darling?" Rhaenyra sang, combing a fragrant oil through her strands. She prodded him further at his silence, eager to know what her chosen daughter said. "Has another lord insulted her again? You mustn't worry about it like last time. She is more than capable of defending herself."

Daemon did not answer, a strained, choked sound that his wife had never heard before emitting from his throat. Rhaenyra turned, swiftly walking to him as she smoothed a palm down the crown of his head to his nape. "Love?"

"She's dying."

"What?" Rhaenyra stammered, taking a step back.

"She was poisoned. The Greens have obstructed all communications with Dragonstone, and the sender is unsure if she will be alive by the time I read this," he answered, paper trembling.

The shock paralyzed all rationality. Rhaenyra didn't know what to think or feel. "Who sent this to you?" she ardently asked. The world around her became fuzzy, and her head went light as she braced herself against the wooden desk.

Daemon flipped the parchment over, searching for any indication of who the sender could be, but found none. "It has the royal seal, yet there is no signage."

His wife had no answer, dread beginning to take hold of her chest as tears collected in her amethyst eyes. A sob escaped Rhaenyra. The pain, the suffering you must have been through, was enough to make her faint, knees buckling as she struggled to stay upright—her poor child. Poor perzītsos dampened until they snuffed out her flame.

Daemon was lost within the confines of his mind. Fear, betrayal, sadness, and anger coursed through him, roaring the dragon blood to life in his veins.

He felt powerless living on an island away from the daughter he loved, unable to fulfill his role as father and protector. It was a failure on his part not to see what the Hightowers could do. Their schemes and treachery reached from King's Landing to Oldtown, an ancient family with roots among the elites of Westeros. There was a reason they held onto power for so long, and it was not by allowing one unexpected person to throw them awry.

Swiftly, Daemon stood, throwing the sturdy wooden chair behind him with the force of his legs. He gripped the letter with an iron fist, wrinkling the parchment under pressure as he went for the door.

"Daemon," Rhaenyra called, struggling to steady her breath. "Where are you heading?"

The Rogue Prince paused just before the exit, turning on his heel to face his wife, crumpled paper raised high in his hand.

"To burn that green bitch and her cunt father," he proclaimed, a fire within his voice that assured he would keep his word. "They will pay for what they have done to our daughter."

Rhaenyra understood that convincing him otherwise was futile, and deep down, she didn't want to. Despite not being her biological child, she held you in her heart as her own. She wouldn't stand in the way of Daemon's quest for retribution, knowing that he would spare no effort if their roles reversed. With a brief nod, she left him and settled into a cushioned chair.

Daemon stormed through the brimstone halls of Dragonstone, leather riding boots echoing his every step. He had only one goal, one in which he had no care for the consequences of as he reached the cave where his ride was housed. The Rogue Prince climbed the ropes of Caraxes as the Keepers struggled to untether the beast, mounting atop his dragon and fastening the chains in the saddle.

The Blood Wyrm chirped with a puff of smoke through its nostrils as Daemon snapped the reins, sending the dragon forward and out of the cave. He did not care as the frigid wind cracked like whips against his exposed skin, flying higher—faster to his destination, death and destruction trailing behind beating crimson wings. His daughter would be avenged even if it meant the whole Keep would be nothing but ash and bone by sunset.

Masterlist of Series

Daddy's on his way, babies! Are we excited? I know I am! I hope this chapter wasn't too sad for y'all. I've never had a miscarriage before or have been pregnant. I wanted to make the most accurate portrayal by talking with people I know who have had one or been pregnant. I apologize if I've offended or triggered anyone with what I wrote. Thank you again for your understanding and patience while waiting for these updates. Life has been chaotic!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry4, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @hjgdhghoe, @im-sidney, @aurorathi, @marihoneywk, @xitsemm, @justbelljust, @qardasngan

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pearlstiare · 1 year

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A very drunk Aegon sees a painting of Y/N

Aegon: This is a painting of my wife, my woman, my angel, my goddess, my everything *begins to talk very passionately*

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multific · 1 year

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Married for Love

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Alicient had enough of Aegon, so she sent him to a different kingdom, she hoped he would learn there. But Aegon found more than just a new home.

When you heard that a prince will be housed by your father, you didn't know what to think of it at first.

But then, Aegon joined your home.

---

Many months have passed, almost a year when the news arrived, House Targaryen will visit the son they sent away.

Aegon was not thrilled, to say the least.

He knew this could mean a couple of things, either his father was dead or dying.

He let out a long sigh but you placed a kiss on his skin as you hugged him, hoping it would calm him.

---

"Mother, Father, Brother and Sister, I would like to welcome you all." Aegon stood in front of his family, all four of them eyeing him up and down, Aegon looked really really good. Healthy, strong, a lot more muscular than the last time any of them saw him.

Aegon went ahead to greet his family before everyone else in the palace. He wanted them to see how well he was, laugh into their faces that he was doing so much better.

His mother came over to give him a kiss and a hug.

"I'll guide you to the King." he said as he turned to do so, but then you caught his eyes, "Actually before I do so, I would like for you all to meet my lovely wife, Y/N, daughter of King Y/L/N." he held his hand out and everyone's gaze fell on you.

You wore a beautiful gown, the colour matched your skin tone perfectly, a simple ring on your finger, matching Aegon's and you had a smile on.

"Your Grace, it is really nice to finally meet the family of my dear husband." with one last smile, you walked beside Aegon into the castle, guiding your guests to the throne room.

Everyone at the back was confused.

Aegon was married? Since when? And to a Princess? Why didn't they know about this?

But no one dared to question, the connection between the two Houses had to be strong, questioning you would definitely not sit well with your father.

All of you came to a stop before two huge doors, a knight came over to you and whispered something before returning to his position.

"Looks like my mother's taking a little while to get ready. In a couple minutes and they will let us all in." you said as you turned towards the family, again, a kind smile on your face before you turned back.

You could feel their eyes burning holes into your back.

Aegon took a slight step, putting his hand on your waist, and pulling you close as you placed one of your arms around him. You placed your head on his shoulder.

You knew, he needed you to calm him without words, and that is what you did. Just being there for him was enough.

His family could only watch in shock. They watched as your arm moved from his back and onto his shoulder as you stepped closer, you ran your fingers through his hair before you placed a kiss on his cheek. Leaving a slight pink tint behind before getting it with your fingers.

Everyone knew that the couple in front of them was in love. These touches were not planned or faked.

You then turned in your husband's arm and smiled at them.

"Hope you had a great journey." Silence. Complete silence, but your smile never faded.

"It was okay, thank you. May I ask, what kind of bugs do you have around here?" Aegon's sister spoke up.

"Oh, I don't like them too much, I do have animals, however."

"Animals?"

"A couple." this made Aegon chuckle and you hit his arm. "A lot yes, deer, rabbits, foxes, cats, dogs, wolves, birds. We are close to the big forest, they come by all the time."

"You feed them." Aegon spoke up as he shifted from one leg to another but never turning to face his family, only looking at you or the door in front of him.

"I do, but where are animals, there are insects, you should check the forest, there are many in there."

"Wolves?" she asked, shocked. "Wouldn't they eat the bunnies?"

"They would, but I forbid them. They listen because I feed them. I'll show you later in the garden if you wish, Princess."

"We are going." said Aegon as the door started to open just when Aegon's father wanted to speak.

All of you walked in, you and Aegon joined your father on his throne, you sat down in your chair beside your mother while Aegon stood beside you.

"King Vicerys and his family! My old friend, thank you for visiting us." your father greeted them.

"Old friend, it was news for me to find out that my son married your daughter." right into the middle, Aegon's father was surely not playing around.

"Oh, yes. Married them myself, my only daughter, I was happy she found such a boy for herself. When you sent Aegon over to my Kingdom, we never expected such happiness to grace us! Truly thrilled to have him here." then the conversation moved to more basic topics. Aegon moved to kneel next to you as he asked you about your dress or something, you couldn't quite understand.

"Sorry, what?" you asked as he came to eye level with you.

"I said, you looked breathtaking in this dress."

"Well, thank you. I doubt my dress is as breathtaking as the news of our marriage to your family."

"Like I care. I bet they expected to find me either in a ditch drunk or in a whorehouse... Not like I know where it is!" his eyes widened as he looked at you.

"Sure..." you pouted before moving a little in your seat. You knew about his past, of course you did, you were first to know why the prince was there and your mother really had no filter.

But soon, everyone grew to love Aegon, especially you.

"Anyway, do you know for how long they are here?" he asked.

"Mother said about a week. She said they probably wanted to take you back to Red Keep."

"But this is my home, and if I go, you would have to come with me. I am not going to bring you into a life of misery because of my family."

"They can't be that bad." you said and Aegon just looked at you. "Okay, maybe, but I love you and if they want you back in King's Landing, I'll go with you." Aegon made a face before he looked at his family, noticing how his brother was staring at the two of you. He then looked back at you.

"My happiness is with you, you know that but King's Landing is very different from here, you won't like it there. No forests. No animals."

"I'd choose you over every animal or forest."

Aegon then stood up once again, this conversation might not be over but for now, it was.

Lunch went rather well, your mother was talking with the Queen all along, your mother was a very wise woman, you only wished to be half as great as she was. She knew that the moment she let's the Queen out of her sight, she might go to Aegon.

You and Aegon ate in silence, occasionally exchanging looks or smiles.

As you promised to Helaena, you showed her the gardens, Aemond also followed as the four of you walked around.

"So, you feed all of them yourself?"

"I try to check daily as my duties allow me."

"Or she sends me." Aegon spoke up, for the first time looking at his sister.

"Because you can lift the water bucket. We used to have traps when I was young, but when I was young I saw a deer caught, I cried so much my mother made my father take all the traps away. And so, we feed them now." you smiled at her and Aemond.

"Did you name them?" asked the Princess.

"Some, yes."

"She named a deer after me. When I arrived, she said the deer reminded her of me as it was just as thin." Aegon smiled at the memory.

"Yes, but now, both of them are healthy." you said as you looked at the rose bush, noting a small red bug on it, it was one you actually liked. "Here." you let the bug crawl onto your hand before you turned to Helaena. "We call it Ladybug. It is said the dots on its back tells you how old they are." you watched her for a second before you turned your attention to Aemond. "I assume Prince Aemond is not so fond of flowers or animals, we do have training grounds, although I'm afraid I'm not the expert to show you around, it would be my husband." Aemond bowed his head a little as a small form of thank you as he did not finding any words.

Aemond was clearly taken aback, Aegon noticed but said nothing, smiling at his brother before looking back at you.

Aemond for sure thought Aegon would be a mess, much like how he was before his entire life, but instead, they found him, married, happy and strong.

Aemond was jealous.

So jealous.

Aegon had an amazing wife, a caring soul who was not only beautiful but smart and caring. And Aemond wanted the same.

Your tour soon came to an end as you all decided to rest up a bit before dinner.

"Your brother is jealous." you said as Aegon took his jacket off.

"I noticed. He looked at you like a lost duckling."

"But your sister's nice."

"Wait until she places a spider onto your shoulder." a shiver ran down your spine.

"Do you really think they want to bring you back?"

He nodded. Well, you weren't blind, his father was not in the best health.

"I never really thought this was a question of IF Aegon. Rather a WHEN. You are the heir right? Not your half-sister but you, so, they would want you back, especially now that you not only survived here but thrived. I have been getting ready for it since the moment we kissed for the first time." you both smiled at the memory.

"My parents didn't like that we are married. I could tell."

"Like I care. We are married, and I'm not leaving you." Although both of you knew there would be ways for his family to try and separate you, you two also knew that no matter what, you two will find your way back to one another.

Part2

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imaginesofeverykind · 23 days

Text

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 1

Warnings: HEAVY mentions of blood/gore, magic described as visceral, catholic-centric monotheism demonised, gore themes, Aegon being the epitome of ‘omg i’ll do whatever except tell mum’, Body horror, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD-Esque style AU, Targaryens aren't royalty but they are Noblefolk, some things are purposefully vague :S :S

Chapter Song: Go Tell Aunt Rhody (RE7 soundtrack) - Michael A. Levine, Jordan Reyne

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Word Count: 3.8k

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Vicious rapping squanders the peace and quiet of a relatively silent part of the swamp. Moonlight splits off, cutting through the canopy of overgrowth that shields a peculiar abode entangled within the trunk of an elder tree. The crickets sing among the toads’ baritone croaks until they cease, abiding by the loud pounding on the wooden door that barely stays on its hinges, splintering from wood rot.

”Please!”

A guttural plea, desperation lingering atop the vowels. No one ever came to the decrepit hut unless they were on the brink, teetering the veil of life, quite literally on death's door. But death hardly answered, in its wake, oftentimes stood you; for those who braved the trek.

He had almost given up, muscles begging him for rest, for a modicum of reprieve from the toil it took just to arrive at the steps of a stranger's hut. The weight, the pain, it was enough to finally buckle his shaky grime covered knees, splinters embedded themselves into the palms of his hands the moment his hands hit the wood beneath him.

“I need —,” a whimper, is all that managed to escape his throat. His eyes flickered to the body beside him — not body, he wasn’t dead yet — to his brother laying beside him, laboured breaths that sucked through his barred teeth in discomfort.

Lips curled into a snarl, he brought his fist down on the decking one final time, “open the door you fucking wretch!”

He nearly cowered when the door yanked open, yellow light spilling out into the dark bog from the hearth that roared inside. No one stood in the frame of the door, no one beckoned him inside the derelict home and despite this, he rose to his feet, scraping his newly acquired trousers. There was little energy left in him, just enough to drag the mauled body of his brother - one that inched closer to the afterlife - over the threshold of the hut.

”Sit.”

He spun on his feet, nearly tripping over the pile of wood stacked beside the hearth when his eyes landed on you, who had appeared, simply materializing from nothing. It was only mere seconds until he was set on you again, a frantic torment that willed him near you, “Hag, you must help him!” Despite his weary disposition, he demanded help.

A nobleman. You think, taking his appearance in. Both men donned the same white hair, similarly crafted attire that screamed wealth and you are automatically aware of who was inside your abode. The township off the Kings Road comes to your mind, owned by a Lord as it had been for the past century.

”Well?! Must I get on my knees?” He was angry, that much was clear, but he was more afraid above all.

You waved dismissively, though not toward the stranger, the Lordling. The table of apothecary jars and dissected creatures vanish, though they never are truly gone, and you gesture for the man to place his injured companion. He’s confused at first, most people are when they come to you. Magic was no longer what it was, you could feel it wane the harder religion sought to destroy it. He most likely has never seen it this close.

But he silently obeys, with great effort hauling his brother up on the table and like you had before, appeared behind him as silently as the fog that began to seep through the crack beneath the door. He flinched away instantly, you fought back a sly smirk but your focus was on the man with long matted locks. The hair was a brilliant white, the same as his brothers, identical as the Lord of the closest settlement, but it was marred with the crimson syrup of blood.

You bring a finger to his mutilated face, your pointed nails more akin to talons than that of humans, they threaten to crack the white porcelain of his skin. Swiping a long line down, coating the pads of your fingertips in blood and bringing it to your mouth for a taste. Bitter. The able bodied man recoiled at the sight, but you pay him no mind as you examine the injured one.

His eye was gone. That was a shame. You were fond of eyes as payment.

”Can you heal him?” The man beside you asked, voice small, almost childlike and feeble. ”Name your price, make him whole again and I’ll — I’ll give you whatever you want. Fix him.” His anguish raked through your ears and rattled against your mind like razor sharp teeth, your neck instinctively lolling from left to right as if to ward off the discomfort that followed.

”They’ll know.” You answer cryptically, caressing the side of the younger man's face much like a mother would when tucking in a babe for the evening.

“Can. You. Fix. Him?” His patience was wearing thin.

You sigh, turning to face him properly for the first time since he arrived. Violet eyes. Magic touched his very heritage and yet his own kin sought to erase it, the irony was not lost on you. “He will be different.” You say as a warning, a politeness he certainly didn’t deserve yet you gave it anyway.

Anger overcame him, outstretching his hands and coiling his fingers around the scruff of your filthy dress to yank you toward him. You happen to catch the brief glint of silver, but you had caught it, the blade with your hand wrapping around it to stop it from piercing your chest. Not that it would have damaged your heart, you wonder if his intent was to scare or if he simply forgot which side the human heart resided.

The blade cut through your skin, rivers of red beginning to run down your wrist. The pain is welcome.

“Fix him. Or else I’ll drag you to Oldtown where you can burn in the circle you filthy animal.”

Animal. As if you were no longer good enough to be likened to a person, a human person capable of human things. ‘They fear what they cannot control,’ the voice is recalled into your mind, a vague memory of the past resurfacing as though it meant to reassure you.

Your lips twist into an awry smirk, and the second he blinks you have once again dissolved through his hands like an apparition. Reappearing by his brother's side, sliced hand outstretched to let your own blood drip tantalizingly slow over the unconscious man’s face.

In your other hand is a surprisingly ornate steel flask, an eyesore amongst the natural clutter. Whatever liquid you have delicately poured down the man’s throat is sanguine, syrupy thick like honey. You sense there is something not quite right mere seconds before the man begins to convulse violently, gasping for air that he cannot breathe.

”What have you done?!” Nostrils flared and ire rising, the able bodied one charged toward you like a boar gone rabid.

You grew tired of his impetulant outbursts, whispering a soft incantation with hurried hand flourishes and his movements ceded. Burnt into the wooden boards around his feet, still smoking with specks of orange embers were runes, etched into a circle. Something felt off, the air reeked of acrid mildew mixed with copper and you knew instantly what triggered the reaction.

Ignoring the binded man’s threats you let the magic sing to you, caress you, consume you while softly speaking in a forgotten and forbidden tongue.

The windows and door fly open, inviting in a malstrom of wind, tempestuous and bludgeoning, the centre it wishes to converge is at the body on the table still choking, still clawing at himself for air. His spirit dwindles at every garbled breath but you sense his will and you could feel his fight, he was a warrior through and through even in the face of imminent mortal peril. Not many of those who seek you, offer the same resoluteness.

The older brother is driven to shield his face from the vacuum of wind battering him against the unseen magical force which keeps him in place. Fear was evident in his eyes, perhaps even a touch of regret and guilt though you don’t linger too long as you shout a final mantra, holding both your forearms with formidable strength that is unbroken until the last word passes your lips, you break your grasp.

And then suddenly, the gale force of destruction dissipates.

Silence follows. And you are sat beside the young brother, placing a paste across the part of his face which had been torn away viciously. “What attacked him?” It was the first time you had spoken so directly, but it was because you knew the answer, the nobleman before you couldn’t possibly know what lurked through the mangroves and stalked beneath the stillwater.

He doesn’t appear to comprehend the question at first, muttering to himself a litany of false truths to explain what had happened right in front of him. His very own trembling brings him back from his prison of thoughts as his gaze lifts cautiously to meet yours, “a Direwolf.”

“How did you know it was a Direwolf?” You ask instantly, predicting that he would say as much. No matter, you step over to the cabinet that housed jars filled with all sorts of assorted components for potion making or spell casting, the moon light coming through the window casting an eerie shadow on the workspace.

”What else do you call a giant fucking wolf, what does it matter?” He grew restless again.

You dripped a small phial of black liquid into the mortar filled with other ingredients with great haste, eyes curiously peering out the window looking at the moon as you grimly sigh and mix together what’s been obtained. “It matters,” you grit, trying to grind the remainder of the paste, “the difference between a Direwolf and what attacked him is an exceptionally vindictive blood curse.”

He blinked at you, “what?”

You discard the mortar and cross the room swiftly, shelves littered with bones, glowing rocks and a variety of ceremonial looking daggers. Though magic and its very history were being erased by the ‘new god’, you still hoped those within the settlement weren’t entirely sheltered.

“He will know no master lest it is the moon, he will know no anger stronger than wrath, he will know only pain and isolation.”

The expression that fell across his face told you all that was needed; He understood fully what was at stake, just as you had moments before. Though his resolve hardened and he met your gaze once more, “cure him. Whatever it takes, I do not care!” Both of you knew he was in no position to demand, not when he was still held in place by unseen magic and you had proven many times how easily it was to simply disappear.

And that is what you did, if only briefly, shooting him a coy smile before vanishing and leaving him in ruination for the moment. In the silence, forced to look at his brother made his lip tremble. He hoarsely called out to him, shaky words choking in half sobs to beckon him awake and rip him from unconsciousness to no avail.

”He’s not here,” You softly say, causing him to jump when you reappear and brush past him. “His soul is in limbo, he won’t hear you.” But I can, you think, the energy sings to your soul in a gentle hymn and your blood sings back to it. In your hand a lock of silver hair clasped in your fist, having come from where you disappeared to, though it caused immediate alarm for the man.

He pointed a finger at your hand and grimaced, his bottom lip still trembling but no longer from hopelessness. Though he doesn’t ask the question out loud, you know what he’s thinking and you were certain he wouldn’t like the answer regardless of how you explained it.

“Whatever it takes,” you gently repeated his words and it was enough to silence him, for far longer than you thought was possible. Though the silence was welcomed, encouraging concentration while you handled the spellcraft with the care and love that had been taught to you. The woman in your memory that provided warmth and affection was not your mother by blood and yet she lived through your very essence as if she were.

She was there with every spell, whispering gently and coaxing a power buried deep within you. She was in the walls of the hut, imbuing you with much needed protection from creatures and men. And she was here, watching you through omniscient delight as you dedicated part of your essence to a stranger and his injured brother.

The serenity only just takes the edge of tension away, as if you weren’t tending to the impossible feat of near resurrection and stitching a man whole together once more. Life was fragile, mortality was inevitable even to those who yearn against it but magic could manipulate it enough even if it took great energy. It wasn’t without drawbacks, though. Transactional in nature, to undo what has been done required blood magic, the type of magic you were versed well in but it almost always came with consequence.

’What is taken, must be given back’ the words of your ‘mother’ echoed superfluously everytime your duty required meddling with the laws of nature. Perhaps that was why many travelers or townsfolk revered you as a hag, if not for the way you dressed or looked or lived, then for your duty as an indiscriminate arbiter of unfairness and misfortune.

Magic was fair, balanced and it obeyed karmic laws, this was why you cradled such energy. Life was not, it was often unfair and that much had been made clear the moment your real mother left you in a swamp to be taken by whatever monsters prowled in search for their next meal.

So you do what needed to be done - if only a little self serving to you personally but - you give back the injured man what had been clawed away and take something from his family locked away in their fortress within the walls of their beloved township. Not without a final twist in the knife for the older brother who demanded your help many hours ago. Appearing beside him like a shade, gripping his wrist abruptly and slicing a line across his palm to draw blood.

He attempted to fight back but he was bound, he could only wince and complain while you squeezed the blood into a medium phial. When you had finished, he snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if to soothe the pain and grimaced at you almost childishly, “you could’ve asked.”

A faint smile tickles the corner of your lips, though it was no matter of if his words were amusing or his mannerism when he calmed down were fascinating, there was still a task at hand.

The final part of the brutal rite fell appropriately on the witching hour, where the crow sings thrice while the moon is still high. To complete everything, you dropped several dribbles of the brother's blood into the injured’s mouth and finished off your words of sacrilege.

”He will recover,” You announce, finally after what seemed like hours upon hours of the sounds of your transfixed mumblings and careful spell work.

The man hadn’t heard you at first, in fact he had barely registered the runic circle by his feet had disappeared quite some time ago which meant he was no longer bound in place yet he still remained as if he were. But the only thing that broke him from his trance had been the shallow breath followed by his younger brother lurching forward in a confused panic.

No longer was his face torn, eye gouged, the only indication of that was the faint pink scar that remained. His eyes — both, set on you and he surged forward straight toward your neck. Not that you could blame him for being in such a state, though it would be rather humorous to allow him to indulge in his urges and let him throttle you, you step out of his reach like an alluring treat that only served to frustrate him.

The older one flung himself forward, fretting over the younger and the tension immediately dispersed into quaint relief. Though it lasted no longer than a matter of moments, chaos stalked the two like they were messengers from the god of chaos himself, the energy between them repelling from one another like static in a storm. You could merely watch on in light amusement at the bickering duo.

“— I already think so low of you and yet you exceed expectations once more. Bringing me to this devil whisperer's den?!”

”Well I was simply not going to bring you home marked and dying!”

“If you must lie that you care for me dear brother, at least have the conviction to not pretend you had my interests at heart when we both know you wish to save your skin. Now I have to explain to mother why I stench of sin.”

You laughed, quite loudly it had broken the two from grappling one another to look over. The glimpses of lives you often see when people stop by are often times quite enlightening, just as it appeared in the present between two quarrelling brothers. One who thirsts for recognition and appreciation while the other wishes to disappear and fade to obscurity.

“Do we amuse you, hag?” The younger ones eyes set on you, his grimace was apparent as he did little to hide his contempt.

“Quite.” You hum, barefoot toes curling into the splintered wood while thinking aimlessly. No words followed, not when your gaze cast on the elder who had gone a shade lighter in his face, his limbs beginning to quake and tremble. Cracked lips curling into a smile as you watch him collapse to the floor, writhing in what one could assume was unrelenting pain, the type of pain that embedded itself into a person.

“Aegon — Brother!” The younger falls to his brothers side and you watch curiously, how interesting the dynamic was between the brothers. Their resentment ran deep yet there was still a matter of love beneath it, a bond that weaved itself between them despite such obtuse differences.

The younger was furious, shooting his deadly gaze at you with nostrils flared and he lunged at you, this time for mere entertainment, you let his hands wrap around your neck and press you hard against the cabinet. “You fucking monster! What have you done to me! To him?!” He spat, rightfully so, you thought that someone as pious as him would befall such a fate, though from the little information you’ve gathered on the two, Aegon — as you now know him — did not share such piety.

A weary smirk pulled at the corner of your lips, choking out, “I am no monster, little lordling though it pleases me so, to bestow a mark on your family who seeks to reject their very own heritage.”

The screams and pleas of Aegon in the background fuelled this one’s anger, “we’ll have you burnt for that —“ His hands tighten their grip, leaving you to his mercy for now in his hands like a ragdoll force to move at his whim, jerking you forward and then slamming you back into the cabinet. Glass shattered from the impact around the both of you but your focus remained on him, the only thing to do in the instance was laugh and so you did.

“Quite the ferocious brute you are — you’d have made a fine servant to the moon, though I cannot say the same about your brother.” His hands squeezed down on your windpipe with malicious intent but you remain unperturbed despite the immense pressure building within your head. Like a bubble about to burst.

The elders' whimpers of pain droned on in the background, mixing into the symphony of nature that carried on throughout the marsh. You had a little too much fun toying with people, if they were to treat you a certain way, who were you to not at least get amusement from it?

You laughed, bringing a fist full of powder up and flicking it in his face before disappearing through his fingertips like grains of sand. The powder served distraction enough, staggering him back and you silently thank your motherly figure for always ensuring you carried turmeric. Even if it was to ward off bad spirits only.

When you reappeared, your lips barely skimming the shell of Aegon’s ear as you whisper a soft incantation, it felt lewd and profane but at once his pain ceased. The wrinkling in his forehead and face softened while beads of sweat trickled downward, threatening to sully his eyesight by falling into it.

In your hand was the phial of blood you had taken from Aegon, the other held the scruff of his neck. His brother only just recovered from having powder flung in his face, the searing and burning had barely stopped when his eyes settled on you, hovering over Aegon like an enchantress with ill intent.

You crushed the phial in your hands, glass cutting the insides of your palm mixing two bloods together, placing your bloodied hand to Aegon’s sweaty forehead and began muttering swift words. You turned to the younger one, haggard and crazed with a look in your eye that seemed to elicit fear in both of them, raising a clawed hand up you pointing directly at him.

“I have done what is asked of me, to unmark and unburden you. And the cost has been paid. He —“ you look down at Aegon’s fearful eyes, and something in your mind whispers to you to show mercy, it is not your voice, rather hers the one who taught you the ways of magic, “he may now be a servant of the moon but he is bound to me. Every lunar cycle when the moon is at its fullest he must come to me lest he be made an example from the zealot’s who poison your minds with promises of false salvation and piety.” You were still rather on the theatrical side, not truly enforcing a blood bind on him. And yet, it had the desired effect. Fear.

“And if he doesn’t?” The younger asks in mock defiance, serving as a mask to hide the fear so prevalent in his eyes.

“Then when you pray at night you better hope your false god listens.”

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