#aegon ii targaryen x oc
Text
The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen
Rating: Explicit
Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen
Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.
Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm
No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3
Tumblr Masterpost
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen
AO3 Link
Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.
PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)
All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!
Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You
Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.
Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”
“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.
Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.
On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.
“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.
“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.
“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”
“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.
Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”
“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”
Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.
She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.
As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.
The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.
Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.
Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.
“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”
“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”
As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.
The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”
As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.
The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.
Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.
“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”
The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.
“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.
“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.
“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.
It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.
Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.
It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.
“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.
“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.
“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”
“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”
“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.
“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”
The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.
No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.
Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.
“Abrogail.”
Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.
The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.
He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.
“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”
“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.
Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”
Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.
“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”
“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.
“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”
“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”
“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”
“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”
She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.
Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.
Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”
Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.
“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”
“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”
Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?
Alone now, save for Larys.
‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.
This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.
Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.
“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.
Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.
“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”
Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.
“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”
Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.
“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.
“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”
Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.
“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.
“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.
“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?
This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.
“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.
“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.
“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”
The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.
“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”
Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.
She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.
‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.
“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?
“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.
Or if he were lonely.
“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.
The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.
All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.
The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.
Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.
Half fire.
Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.
Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.
Half fire.
‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.
She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.
“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.
“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.
Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.
His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.
“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”
He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”
A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”
She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.
Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.
On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.
“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”
“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.
“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”
Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.
Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”
The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.
“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.
“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”
Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”
Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.
It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”
Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.
“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.
“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”
Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”
Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.
“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.
And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.
Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them.
Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.
#hotd fic#hotd oc#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x oc#aegon ii targaryen fic#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fandom#house targaryen fanfic#jacelaena#my fics#oc: abrogail strong#otp: do not go far from me#aegon x abby#abrogon
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
763 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi ! How about yandere HOTD men (Aemond, Jace, Aegon, Daemon) learning their wife take moon tea regularly to not be pregnant with their child ? (and understand why their many attempts at getting her pregnant didn't bring results)
It’s been a minute since I’ve written Yandere!hotd. I also feel like I’ve written something similar to this but for the life of me I can’t find it or remember.
TW: Manipulation, non-con,
Daemon Targaryen
When it comes to his wife, Daemon is an observant man. He knows he is clever already but he prides himself in knowing everything involving his wife. That is how he learned that every morning after a night of coupling, she has a servant bring her moon tea. Daemon knows she didn’t want to marry him and that the only reason they were wed at all was that he wanted her. However, enough time has passed in their marriage for her to come to love him as well.
He gives her only his love and affection. Never does he raise his voice at her or is cruel towards her. He swore to his brother when he agreed to marry her to him, that he would only treat her in an honorable manner. He had upheld his word. That is why he has been sitting on the knowledge of his wife and the moon tea for almost a fortnight, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to rage at her or make her frightened of him. He still wanted her love and truthfully, that was why he wanted her to carry his child.
No, he decided an accusation would be the best. He would make her feel guilty. Feel cornered and then she would stop drinking the moon tea on her own.
When his wife enters their shared chambers, he watches as she doesn’t spare him a glance and doesn’t see what he has sat in front of him on the table. She goes about getting ready for bed and it is only after she walks out from behind the changing screen that she finally looks at her husband. He hasn’t said a word the entire time and that in itself is suspicious. Usually, Daemon would already be pawing at her or ranting about his day.
Daemon sees the exact moment her eyes find the bottle of moon tea and realizes why her husband has been so quiet. He knows she won’t break the silence so he does. He asks her if she is seeing someone else. If she is having an affair and that is why she is drinking the moon tea because surely if she was only taking her husband to bed then there wouldn’t be a need for such a horrid potion.
He knows she hasn’t been with anyone else. He has been keeping his eye on her but his questions have the desired effect. She denies them and rambles about how he is the only man she has ever been intimate with and throughout it all Daemon forces himself to remain silent.
Finally, he asks her why she would take the moon tea if her husband is the only one fucking her. It takes her a minute to find a proper response but he knows the truth. She doesn’t love him and doesn’t want his children. He remembers her saying as much to one of her companions after they wed but she won’t say that to him. Instead, she tries to get sympathy out of him and tells him how frightening it is to have children. How terrifying the idea of it all is and if Daemon were anyone else he probably would have believed her, but he doesn’t.
He stands, then and walks over to her slowly. He takes her in his arms gently and tells her that he will be there for her the entire time. That she will want for nothing and that he will care for her. Then, in the quietest and most gentle voice he can muster, Daemon asks her to give him a child. He asks her to bless their union with a babe of their own and after a few moments, she nods because he knows that she has heard the rumors about him. Knows that if he is already accusing her of cheating on him it is t good and if he were to do it again, she very well could end up forfeiting her life.
He makes her give the bottle of moon tea back to the maester herself and when she comes to bed for the night, he can’t help the victorious smile from spreading across his face as he takes her.
Aegon II Targaryen
Aegon isn’t the smartest or most observant but he pays attention to his wife. He loves her and until this very moment, where he’s holding the cup that is apparently filled with moon tea, he thought she loved him as well. Before they spoke their vows and became one in the sept she had told him how much she loved him and how she wanted a family with him. How it was all she ever wanted.
His wife is a liar and at that thought, he hurls the cup of tea toward her, letting it break against the wall next to his weeping wife. He can barely pay attention as she pleads and begs him to listen to her. She sobs about how she meant every word. How she loves him and does want to carry and give him children.
For once, he is at a loss for words. How his traitorous wife can still stand by what she previously said is beyond him. However, he’s going to hold her to her word this time. It doesn’t take him long to stride across the room and grab her roughly by the hair. He doesn’t care that she whimpers and cries as he shoves her onto the bed and forces himself inside her.
When he is finished and rolls off of her, he wonders if perhaps she was telling the truth. She could have only been afraid to be with child but she swore to him that she’d give him a child that was theirs and to him, that should outweigh her fears.
He lets her rest for a bit before he fucks her again. Usually, he would go slow with his dear wife but he’s angry and has a goal. He doesn’t register when the sun rises or the knock on the door. He sees the servant walk in with their morning tea and food to break their fast. He stills with a shudder and spills himself inside of his wife again and it’s only when he catches his breath that he tells the servant to take the tea away and that if he ever finds out that they are bringing his wife moon tea again, he will personally make sure that no one ever sees them again.
Aemond Targaryen
A maester comes to him and asks him if his wife will continue needing the moon tea he has been making for her. Aemond listens to the babbling fool as he tells him how he would ask his Lady Wife but can’t find her anywhere. She had even told him, he says once it’s clear that the prince won’t say anything, that Aemond was okay with her taking the tea. That they weren’t ready to be parents.
Aemond is furious. Not only because his wife is using him to lie but for drinking that poisonous tea. Mostly, though, he feels deceived. When he and his wife wed he believed that she shared the same sense of duty as he did. Clearly, she was lying to him because if she did she would have been heavy with his child by now. She wouldn’t lie to her Lord Husband in such a way.
Despite the many feelings raging within him, he refuses to show them. Especially to this maester. He prides himself on being smart and calculating so it would do him no good to explode or rage. Instead, he tells the maester, who was stupid enough to come to him, that his wife is no longer in need of his services. That she no longer wants the moon tea and that she will never want it again. There must be something in his voice that makes the other man nervous because he only bobs his head and skitters away.
Aemond doesn’t say anything to his dear wife that night as she rides him. His need to fill her with his child is more prevalent than it has ever been and when he grabs her around the waist and pounds into her until she’s a moaning mess he thinks, somewhat cruelly that she doesn’t deserve to know what he has done. That she will learn her lesson when she learns that she is carrying their child.
The next morning, Aemond watches as she drinks her morning tea which is brought by one of her favorite servants. He knows she thinks she is drinking the moon tea and he can’t stop his cock from hardening knowing that she thinks she’s the one deceiving him.
Jacaerys Velaryon
Jace is angry with himself when he finally realizes the reason why his beloved wife has yet to swell with his child. He has been called naive and gentle his whole life and for the first time, he truly feels naive. He thought it was just taking a while to conceive a child. His beloved had told him that sometimes it takes a while and he believed her.
He doesn’t let her see how upset he is. He doesn’t want her to see his anger or self-pity but something must change. So that night as she is undressing for their nightly lovemaking, Jace does what he does best. He asks her if she loves him. Her answer is quick and when she looks over at her husband she sees his frown that borders on being a pout and his wide eyes filled with hurt. He asks then, why she would take moon tea every time he has given her his seed. Does she not love him enough? Enough to bare him a child? Does she think he’d be a horrible father?
When he looks close to crying she comes to comfort him. She holds him against her naked body and he lets her as she whispers reassurances. ‘Of course, she loves him’ ‘she was scared to be with child’ ‘he would make an excellent father’. After a while of her whispered reassurances, Jace finally pulls back and tries his best to still look broken but hopeful as he asks her if this means she will stop taking the moon tea.
She hesitates at the question but Jace knows he has won. He knows by the end of the night that his seed will take root and she will feel too bad to drink the moon tea to be rid of the potential babe that will eventually start to grow inside of her.
His wife swallows and he doesn’t miss the way she won’t look him in the eye or the paleness that has come over her soft skin as she agrees to stop taking the moon tea. With her agreement, he smiles, truly, and kisses her. She looks relieved to see that he is no longer upset.
That night, Jace makes sure to spill his seed inside his wife as many times as he can before sleep takes him. Towards the end, she’s whimpering about being sore but Jace thinks it’s a small price to pay for lying to him about something so big.
#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#Jace Velaryon#Daemon Targaryen#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x oc#jace velaryon x oc#jace velaryon x reader#yandere!hotd
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Born in 110 AC, Shiera Lannister was the eldest and loveliest of lord Jason Lannister and his wife lady Johanna Westerling's daughters.
Lord Jason had initially held high hopes of wedding his daughter to the eldest son of the King, and Queen, Prince Aegon targaryen, but it was not to be: instead, Queen Alicent proposed for a match between her second son, prince aemond targaryen, and lady shiera, an offer that was accepted by the reluctant Lord Jason.
Together Aemond and Shiera had three children, their son Aurion was a killed as act of revenge by Blood and Cheese. their daughter Vaella, was wed to King Aegon III, and her twin sister Raella to King Viserys II Targaryan.
"MY DEAR HUSBAND YOU KNOW BETTER THAN I THAT AMBITION RULES OUR FAMILIES. MY FATHER AND UNCLE'S, ALONG WITH YOUR MOTHER AND GRANDSIRE'S"
- Shiera to Aemond
"PERHAPS IN ANOTHER LIFE, ONE WITHOUT, ROARING LIONS, HOWLING WOLVES, AND FIRE-BREATHING DRAGONS, YOU AND I COULD'VE BEEN HAPPY TOGETHER, AEGON"
- Shiera to Aegon II
"I HEARD THE STARKS TO BE HONOURABLE MEN, IT APPEARS I WAS WRONG, AND YOU, MY LORD, ARE SIMPLY HERE TO SHED INNOGENT BLOOD. FOR I AM INNOCENT, AS ARE MY DAUGHTERS"
- Shiera to Cregan
In honour of season 2 trailer I give you all my baby Shiera of House Lannister. She serves cunt and does all of team greens PR 😊
tagging : @lemonhemlock for hose lannister supremacy also i had talked about my Lannister oc in their asks ( tho now I did some rebranding with names, fc and life plot )
Inspo: @hiddenqveendom
OG GIF CREDITS : @useyourtelescope @lady-arryn @georgeplantagenet
#oc : shiera lannister#fc : holliday grainger#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#cregan stark#aemond targaryen x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#crehan stark x oc#house lannister#ocnetwork#got oc#hotd oc#ocs#oc appreciation#my ocs#my ocs <3#house of the dragon oc#asoiaf#asoiaf oc#hotd#oc community#house targaryen#hotdedit#littleocnation#fyeahgotocs#fyeahhotdocs#team green
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
family line — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc — masterlist
AESIRA TARGARYEN is not her father’s daughter.
He may have played a part in how she wailed in her first duet but she doesn’t crave bloodlust the way he did when he slayed the masked monsters that terrorised minds and cut off men’s cocks for their crimes. She’s sure that when the gods flipped her father’s coin, it never landed, still flying in the air — he was both a slayer of men and a natural doer of sins and debauchery; a figure so loved and so stigmatised by those who weren’t likened to the deities of the Old and the New. She doesn’t have the urge to swipe the throne from underneath the court’s eyes, doesn’t have the urge to soil and taint the innocence of her younger nephews — straying them from their birthright. Though named after a fairy tale warrior children revered so much, she steers clear of anything that her father ever touched. The way of the sword and warfare circulates her twin brother’s blood. Being the best dragonrider is her little brother’s dream, never hers.
She is not her father’s daughter.
While the second prince who had nothing to inherit (but the cries of the people) wore their House with pride, she thought it was a burden to carry. She knows the gods knew on which side her coin landed but she tries hard enough to erase it. (Can she truly change her fate, though? When the whispers in between the red bricks haunt her so about how deep her parentage is?) Instead of wearing the blood red and the coal black of their colours, she chooses everything easy on the eyes; pastel demeanour and soft disposition — I am light and he is dark; I am separate from the blood running in my veins; I overcome him through thick and thin, as the novels and the sayings go — Light conquers Darkness whichever way you see it.
She is not her father’s daughter.
Why would she be if he abandoned her and her siblings as he married the next innocent thing? Why would she consider him as her father when her twin brother cried about him never loving their mother one night when they were five name days old? Why should she be his daughter when he couldn’t even look her in the eye when the day required the family to be together?
She will never be her father’s daughter.
But she is in every way her mother’s. The lies flowing from her mind are all inherited from how her beautiful, lovely, caring mother crafted them as the woman stroked her slender fingers through the waves of her hair, “He will come back to us, darling sweetling; He loves you both so much and this little one I’m carrying as well.” Because of her mother, she can lie to save millions.
However, the anger she holds for her father makes her burst all of the edges of her being. She wants to stab him with her brother’s sword, make him hurt like the way she has been hurt when he gave them his back. Scream at him until he becomes deaf with how loud her thoughts are. The more she thinks about what could have been, the more she can see the coin the gods flipped at her birth. The madness of loneliness is truly the most pitiful thing. She’s surrounded by people who claim to love her but she longs for the family in her distant nightmares — the one that lights up a hearth in the cold of the longest winters in the lands, sharing blankets on the carpeted floor; one that rings laughter and padding feet on stone floors and expansive windows; one that has a father and a mother to cherish. She wants to burn down everything with her dragon’s flames so that everyone can feel the heavy, suffocating grips preventing her heart from breathing. She wants to claw her eyes out after hearing the remark that she has that lilac shade everyone keeps saying a certain prince holds, just as she carries the last name he is so proud of.
We are not the same. We are not the same. We are not the same. We are not the same—
And as she stares into the looking glass, all she can see is her father’s face.
There’s nowhere to hide from the truth.
AESIRA TARGARYEN is truly her father’s daughter — a piece of greatness and madness meshed into one.
AEGON TARGARYEN, the second of his name, is not the prince that was promised.
The weight of being the unnamed heir is too much for even the Skybearer to handle. He doesn’t want the moulded circlet of heavy stones simply because he knows he is the living embodiment of a disappointment — to his father who wistfully stares at the only piece his first wife left behind, to his mother who he stole a girlhood from, to his grandfather who had dreams bred out of greed and thirst for power, to everyone who dares glance at the king’s firstborn son with irises lined with disbelief. He doesn’t have to hear their words to know what they were thinking. This poor boy with wine for his blood and daring exhibitions for a daily schedule … is the most awaited son of The Peaceful King? The blasphemy is horrendous.
He is not the prince that was promised.
Because of how his father doted on his older sister even when the woman gave birth to two bastards and is pregnant with probably another one, he’s not the heir — Seven Hells, he’s not even the spare. A large part of him is whispering that it’s better this way. More time to inebriate and find himself in the places that he felt most comfortable with, where adventures welcome his insatiable need to discover. The thing about never being the apple of his father’s eye is that he can be free or as free as Mother and Grandfather allow him to be. It means he can marry for love (prays to the gods that he does; he can only think of one person anyway), and have spontaneous trips to the streets of King’s Landing with his closest friend — it means breathing through the littlest areas of his life. Yet a smaller (most likely better) part of himself dyes the roots of his static silver hair into the most melancholic shade of blue at the fact that it’s easy for Father to be this neglectful of his other children that don’t bear the name of his greatest delight. Everything he did, it was for Father. All of it to feel the sliver of pride he reserved in a waterfall for the loved child.
He is not the prince that was promised.
It’s seen in the way Mother looks at him. He’s convinced she doesn’t love him. Mothers are supposed to love their children, people say; but not when you’re the reason why she has to accept the heaviness of reality. Her anger manifested the more he grew up. A single misstep is all it took for her to shout his name. All of the things he did (he tried learning a different language in the dead of the night, read the books recommended to him by the Septa, practised the sword until he perfected the right grip, tasted dirt in his mouth with how much he stumbled) but it will never be enough like his entire existence isn’t enough for her. And despite wishing she could love him more, he strayed even further to not feel the harsh sting of her rings, which resulted in Mother taking back the smallest amount of love she has for him.
He will never be the prince that was promised.
The first sip of alcohol, when he was a babe, cemented his dependency on his eleventh name day. The numbness, carefreeness, and the occurrence of fading into black that it brings is absolutely freeing. He’s the god of intoxication and the patron of exhilaration. Nobody can touch him.
Except for one.
His personal Maiden, the girl who sauntered in the Red Keep clutching her baby brother close to her chest, the beauty every beholder says is the image of salvation, the hands that he doesn’t mind cupping his face — the remembered princess of the realm. She is in every gasp of air he intakes; in the corners of the halls; in the whispers at the back of his head, urging him to look at her from the corner of his eyes as if she’s the secret the castle never tells; in the thoughts plaguing him; and in the dreams that paint different kinds of smiles on his lips. She always smells like the lemon candies her brother munches on, the pastels she wears are ingrained in his core memory; the books her hands have touched are extraordinary; the scrunch on her face, when she finds something borderline revolting in her walks across the castle, is beyond adorable; and the way her face lights up as she picks the next ugly insect that she will give to his own sister stuns him in place. Fuck him to the Sevel Hells and back, he’s consumed with her. It’s amazing how because of her, he is willing to change. Why consume all the cups in all the lands, when a single glance at her, he’s already under the influence of her existence? It’s a fact he only realised upon reaching a certain age.
One look at her and he sees himself being a better man and a better competitor for the throne.
She is a constant in his life.
AEGON TARGARYEN, the second of his name, is not the prince that was promised, oh, no.
But with his AESIRA by his side, it will be through his bloodline that this promised prince will breathe their first breath.
And with all this chaos, there is you.
contents:
act zero: the prince and the siren
act one, chapter one: aesira and aether, aether and aesira
act one, chapter two: the red-bricked road
act one, chapter three: little boy gone
act one, chapter four: first, a dead wife; second, a dead mother
act one, chapter five: the birth of the golden
act one, chapter six: the queen of love and beauty
act one, chapter seven: ravens caw, dropping strings on smooth palms
act one, chapter eight: matters of the heart
act two, chapter one: the story has yet to be written ...
an aegon x oc story bc my love for what could have beens overpowered my need to enjoy my vacation <33
reply or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist !! mwa
#— rory's passages 🌼#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd x oc#hotd x reader#aegon x oc#aegon ii x oc#aegon targaryen x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#aegon x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen
165 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aegon’s Pregnant Sister-wife (Aegon x targ!oc x Aemond)
Just thinking about Aegon’s pregnant sister-wife. Aegon shares her with Aemond and the babe is probably his brothers because every time he fucks her (which is nearly every night) he tells her how he’s going to fill her with his children.
So it’s not an uncommon occurrence as she gets further into her pregnancy for Aegon and Aemond to have her on her back
Aemond fucks deep into her because he loves to watch her full breasts bounce with every thrust. Aegon is there but he’s not even jerking off. He’s just latched onto his wife’s tits and milking them for all they’re worth. She’s cradling her husbands head and stroking his hair as he moans soft and suckles at her leaking tits.
Aemond looks down at the two of them and says something like “after you give birth to this babe don’t get too comfortable because I’m gonna fill you up again and again with more of my children. You’ll be walking around the red keep nice and round all the time and they’ll all think it’s my brothers child but really it’s mine because only a whore like you would spread her legs so much for me to breed her.”
He’d probably turn to Aegon after giving a particularly hard thrust that has his sister and Aegon’s wife moaning loudly. “What do you think Aegon. Should we keep her like this? Pregnant with a cock in her all the time?”
Aegon of course just nods because he doesn’t want to take his mouth off his wife’s milky tits. He’s more than okay with her always being pregnant because that means she’ll always be full of milk for him to drink.
#aemond targaryen x oc#Aegon ii Targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen#Aegon ii Targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#Aegon ii Targaryen smut#house of the dragon smut#house of the dragon#hotd smut#hotd#tw: breeding#naughty
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Love Looks Good On You. (a.t)
CHAPTER TWO
Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!OC
Summary: viserra wakes up to her grandparents informing her about her father so called "death".
Warnings: mentions of parent death, so a little angst.
a/n: little filler but that's okay it's just that xavier thorpe has been preoccupying my mind lately...
all translations of high valyrian come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!
masterlist - series masterlist
Unknowing to Viserra, in the middle of the night Laenor slipped out of the iron grip that she held on him. He fled Driftmark with Ser Qarl as soon as the sun rose.
"Viserra, Darling, wake up," Rhaenys shook Viserra gently causing the girl to stir in her sleep. "My darling, please."
"Yes, grandmother?" Viserra yawned as she rubbed her eyes. Once her vision cleared she noticed both her grandparents sitting in front of her with looks of dread written across their faces. Viserra's mind was led back to her conversation with her father last night. "No."
"Viserra, it's about your father," Corlys started.
"No. No, not him. Anyone but him," tears started to fill Viserra's eyes.
"Honey, I'm so sorry," Rhaenys pulled the girl into her embrace.
Viserra whimpered out, "How?"
Though Laenor warned her about this last night, she questioned what if they did get to him. Would she ever see her father again? Only a matter of time could tell now, but what was she supposed to do until then?
"He was found in the hall, charred in the fireplace," Corlys muttered as he wrapped his arms around his wife and granddaughter's sobbing figures.
"They did this," Viserra cried. "They killed him."
Corlys tried to reason with her, "Viserra, no one could have possibly known."
"No. They did this for their own selfish reasons because I was named heir. They mean to kill me next."
"We would never let anything happen to you," Rhaenys shushed her. "Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Viserra, come walk with me," Alicent said as she passed Viserra and Aegon in the corridor.
"Yes, Your Grace," Viserra pecked a now sad-looking Aegon on the cheek and promised him to catch up after the walk.
"I heard about your father. You have my deepest condolences, I could never imagine such loss at your age," Alicent spoke out as they both walked out on the shore near to the water. Viserra felt that her words weren't only about losing Laenor, but more about what happened with her mother.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Viserra responded.
"No more titles, Viserra. You are to marry my son soon it is only right if you call me Alicent," The Queen smiled warmly at her. "Now recalling to it, I never had the chance to properly thank you."
"What for?"
"For what you did for Aemond. He told me how you rushed to try and save him. You were not even involved in their petty arguments, but you still went to defend Aemond. Even getting hurt in the process, that is something I will never be able to repay you for," Alicent admitted to Viserra.
"But I failed?" Viserra questioned in regret believing if she was a second faster in her movements Aemond's eye could have been saved.
Alicent stopped in her tracks and pulled Viserra by her wrist into a hug. It had been so long to feel a motherly embrace that wasn't Rhaenys that Viserra practically melted in Alicent's arms.
"It does not matter whether you failed or not, my dear. It is the fact that was your first instinct of what to do. From the moment Aemond told me that, I knew I can always be able to trust you to do what is best for them," Alicent explained to her. "They are stubborn, my boys."
"I would do it all again if it meant your sons would be safe," Viserra claimed.
"Oh, my darling girl, you do not know how thankful I am for you being in their lives. Aegon absolutely loves you with his very being, and Aemond looks up to you," Alicent told her. "It was torture for Aegon when Rhaenyra moved your family to Dragonstone."
Viserra tensed in her arms after Alicent said the word family. She broke away from Alicent with a small smile.
"That boy is full of complaints," Viserra laughed. "The letters he would send me were just filled with him telling me how bored he was."
"Sounds like Aegon," Alicent breathed out a small laugh.
"Okay, we will visit you in a few moons, so do not grow up too much yet," Rhaenys smiled at Viserra tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear.
"We are always a raven away if you ever need us for anything," Corlys reminded Viserra as he pulled her into a hug. "I mean it, Viserra. Anything."
"Yes, Grandfather, I know," Viserra laughed.
"Corlys, quick smothering the girl or she might not even make it back to King's Landing at this rate," Rhaenys joked.
"Oh, hush, you two," Corlys shushed them.
"Be careful when you are riding Silverwing back, always be-" Rhaenys started.
"Loud and clear, I know," Viserra gave a small bittersweet smile remembering the way Laenor would always remind her about being loud and clear with her commands before riding Silverwing.
"I will never understand how you two do not get sick from flying that high in the air," Corlys gave a small shiver as he thought about dragon back.
"I will never understand how you are willing to wait that long on a ship to get to places," Viserra countered.
"Oh my-" Corlys sighed. "Viserra, you tell me if that Aegon boy is causing you any trouble alright?"
"Yes, of course," she replied. "That's only if I don't get to him first."
"That's my girl," Corlys smiled.
"Okay, be safe out there, and we love you," Rhaenys told the girl.
#aegon targaryen x oc#aegon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x oc#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#laenor velaryon#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii x oc#aegon x oc#aegon targaryen fluff#fluff#aemond targaryen#was this angst or fluff i don't know#hotd imagine#canon divergence#corlys valeryon#rhaenys velaryon#alicent hightower
364 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bright Star | One Shot | Aegon II Targaryen x OC
Summary: The king dies and their dream begins.
Rating: Mature edging on Explicit (hehee)
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Exhibitionism
Word Count: 1384
Notes: A fluffy-ish one shot of Aegon and Abrogail escaping successfully from King's Landing the night the king dies. Not directly related to my other works, but features my original character, Abrogail Strong.
thank you to my beloved @acrossthesestars for the amazing banner and helping with fleshing out some of the spice! <3 and many sweet thanks to @spoolofblack for their kindness! thank you Brigid for your sweet words. I so appreciate you!
I do not have a taglist. Please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications.
There are different ways the dream goes.
There's one where Abrogail is five and ten, walking into the sept with a silver dress embroidered in golden dragons, where the Queen watches in approval as their hands are wound with ribbon. The one where Prince Aegon smiles brighter than the sun as he wraps his cloak around her, cups her face in his hands and kisses her breath away. They long to run from the storm, as it tears at the towers of the Red Keep with flame and water. They are not the same, in the end, with too much loss and too much suffering, where the only peace is found in the quiet of their kisses and the warmth of their bed. With children who they vow will be born into everlasting peace.
The last of the dragons.
There's another one, where the four of them are miserable and anxious.She exchanges hushed vows with the second son, her eyes darting towards his. There is no cheering or fanfare - just a plan concocted by a dreamer and clever children to keep their clutch together as the storm draws closer. It is the first son she lays with on her wedding night to seal the deal, whispering their own vows amidst soft sighs and cries of need. Things don't turn out so bad in this dream, but it still isn't perfect.
Pentos is not a dream.
It is vision made flesh with sweat and tears and frantic nerves. They are both dead and alive; they died the night the king did, they were born flying into the sunrise. They were born come the dawn on the sands of Essos amidst a victorious dragon shriek and relieved laughter. Where exhaustion and adrenaline gave way to something sacred in the surf that ‘yes, yes we made it we've made it, is breá liom tú mo réalta geal…’
‘I love you, my bright star.’
This is the one where they are surrounded by strangers, where only a handful know their truth. This is the one where Abrogail is wrapped in shimmering gold and white, with star flowers in her copper curls and a smile so bright as to rival the sun. This is the one where Aegon is dark haired and more relaxed, calmer than he'd ever been in his whole life, where he nearly takes her at the feet of the magistrate, so explosive is his joy.
Their joy.
They are a powerful pair: his Lady Hypatia doubles their holdings within a year, courting friendly partnerships and trade routes. A shrewd businesswoman who is patron to those who spin song and secrets, who helps the poor, who first and foremost, protects what is hers.
Lord Argos blossoms like a desert flower without the noose of green and black around his throat. Like a dragon free from the pit, he grows without constraint. Jovial and decadent, gluttonous still, the clever boy emerges into a calculating man; perhaps who he was always meant to be had he only been allowed.
She is shy to admit how much she adores him spoiling her. How he wraps her in moth-wing dresses that skim her skin and leave nothing to the imagination. He orders them by the dozens, in every color imaginable, and watches her with eyes black with lust and desire as she wanders around their home. They are only for his eyes, and when the furrows deepen between her brows, he pulls her into him. She shivers and whines in his arms as he tilts her head back to deny her kisses, but the fabric always rips as he bunches it up to skim his fingers beneath.
"These are just for me," he murmurs, keeping his mouth just out of reach, his smirk growing at her trembling pout as his fingers find the slick along her thighs. "Would hate to kill another merchant for thinking he could have what's mine." Before, when the furthest he could claim her was gazes across a feast table, the lewd way he’d lick honey from figs and she’d pop ripe, wet berries in her mouth, the rumors and court gossip heating his blood as hot as what would pool beneath someone who dared touch her. Here, there's a way for his fire to burn without bringing everything down around them.
She is his. She's his little doll; he dresses her up and spins her around and there is no doubt in all of Pentos, and surely as far as Lys or even Volantis, that while the wine merchant cares for decadence and revelry, it is his little wife that he cares for most of all. There is no doubt Lady Hypatia only has eyes for him.
It is by his blessing they can see her, but never, ever touch.
The orgies Lord Argos throws every few moon turns are the exclusive invites. It isn't just wine and food and decadence. It's deal making, and who is in the inner circle. His lack of desire to become the next Prince of Pentos is all that keeps the target off Aegon's Argos' back.
They are the envy of all who gaze upon them - too beautiful by far, with cherubic cheeks and large eyes. Pouty smiles and sweet laughter. In the haze of patchouli and vanilla and spice, amid the dripping candle glow, bodies writhe amidst laughter and song.
It is here, on a pillowed dais, he spreads his little wife down for all to see. Here he pulls the gossamer cloth from her body and shows how good she looks when she's crying for him. How beautiful she is when tears coat her cheeks from denial, from her need as she begs her husband to fill her with his cock, until her thighs are coated with her slick and his spend. It is here he gives in, unable to deny her even a moment longer, licking a stripe between her pert breasts, growling up against her throat with gnashing teeth. And it is here that he wedges a knee between her thighs, spreading them open to accommodate him. And finally, it is where he splits her apart around him, swallowing the twisting cry of his name that falls from her mouth.
He looks like a god above her, the candle glow turning his skin as golden as the dragon torque fastened around her neck. Aegon’s black eyed stare as he stakes his claim, the smirk, the groans from him as he finally sinks into her, sends her writhing beneath him, needy and begging. It is only his need to exhibit himself, to see the deviance around him that spurs him to take her on this altar, otherwise no one would witness such rapture, something so exquisite and sacred. This is what he tells himself as he fucks her, as he drives himself forward and buries himself within her, her back arching, her face open to all who would look upon them. He tells himself again as she clenches around his length, as her nails rake down his back, as she sheds the skin she wore in another place, another time.
It's better to paint her with his seed than fuck her in a still warm pool of blood. Less complicated.
The first time he guides her down upon the dais, his mouth rubs softly against her, soothing her nervous fingers that clutch into his tunic. “Look at me, only me... keep your eyes on me.” She'll forever get lost in his eyes - her deepest blue and his lilac pink melting together like the sunset sky. Her delicate hands grab at him frantically. As eager as he is to stake his claim, she is just as desperate. Nails drag harshly over his shoulders and arms, the angry red lines dotted with blood. And then her mouth finds the juncture of his shoulder and she bites down - the lion in her blood urging her to claim her mate with teeth and growls.
There is more in this dream that's become real. A little boy with his father's eyes and his mother's hair and a name with no mantle of conqueror or expectation. There is laughter, and song, and it could never last forever. But when the storm finally comes, this time?
This time they're ready for it.
#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#hotd oc#fyeahhotdocs#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x oc#aegon x oc#aegon ii fic#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#oc: abrogail strong#hotd smut#aegon girlies#hotd aegon ii targaryen#aegon x abby
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
I had the absolute honor and pleasure of commissioning @winterofherdiscontent for this piece of Prince Aegon Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong from my fic, The Maiden and the Drowning Boy. Right from the start, I knew I wanted to try comission her for a piece. Their art style is haunting and imbued with that fairy tale glimmer that's absolutely my favorite thing and I was fortunate to snag one of their spots! Right from the start, we clicked on the vision of what this piece would be like, really leaning into that dark medieval fairy tale vibes that I'm building in the fic itself.
The piece is just as dreamy, just as longing as I wanted it, with these two walking through the gardens of King's Landing just how I imagined. It was truly a pleasure and an honor and I'm so freaking excited to share this with everyone!!!
#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy#art tag#hotd tag#oc: abrogail strong#aegon x abby#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#hotd oc
186 notes
·
View notes
Text
the god of wine and rainbow lamps
There is no jester without a king, and there is no king without his jester.
But when the lines blur, the jester finds herself trapped in the growing obsession of a man an entire kingdom bends the knee to.
Read It On AO3
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii x oc#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#hotd oc#fyeahhotdocs#aegon ii targaryen x oc#aegon x oc#aegon ii fic#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon x amara#scalyfreakswrites#the god of wine and rainbow lamps: chapter one
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲
Paring: Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC
Warnings: Swearing, character death
1.02
You struggle to breathe normally from crying so much, so you clasp your hand over your mouth to try and help regain control. All the repressed emotions that had been building for years came bubbling out when you and your father got into a heated argument. He was upset that Rhaenyra had suddenly fled to Dragonstone and blamed it on you for giving your older sister the silent treatment, insisting you go fly to her immediately and apologize.
It caused deep pain in your chest, knowing he didn’t care about your side of things. He didn’t even care to ask.
“The decision has been made; you will go to Dragonstone and apologize,” your father says, waving you off dismissively before returning his attention to his sculpture of Old Valyria. “I think it might be good for you to go and stay on Dragonstone for some time.”
“Why? As a punishment?”
“No, my child, it’s so you and Rhaenyra can be there for each other.”
“I don’t want to leave the house; it’s my home.”
“It wouldn’t be forever.”
Red blotches appear across your neck and chest as your body shakes with rage. It felt as if you were being banished for a crime you didn’t commit, and something inside you snapped. “It’s not my fault; none of it is. Not Rhaenyra was leaving, and neither was my mother or brother dying.”
“What?” Your father still makes his movements but keeps his back to you. “Ivory, what did you just say?”
“You were so obsessed with having a son that you forced my mother to get pregnant again and again until she finally died giving birth, and you have spent every day since resenting me for it.”
“That’s simply not true.”
Your eyes gloss over. “You wanted a son, and Baelon died. Leaving you with me.”
“I suggest you go to your chambers and rest before you leave.”
“I’m not going to Dragonstone!” Your father finally turns back around to face you, and the expression on his face is one of disinterest, which angers you further. You had spent years craving his and Rhaenyra’s approval, and now you felt nothing but a fool, a silly girl who thought she needed to remain quiet to keep everyone else happy, but in the heat of the moment, you no longer felt that way. “You remarried Alicent so you could have an heir, and she’s given you three sons and a daughter. Another four children that you don’t even acknowledge!”
Your father shoots you a glare; it was obvious you had struck a nerve. “Ivory, hold your tongue! Remember, I am not only your father; I am also your king.”
“The only child you love is Rhaenyra, and we all know it.”
Before he can say anything else, you turn to leave his bedchamber and come face-to-face with Alicent, who looked speechless. You closed your eyes and waited for her to scold you, but she never does; instead, she holds your hand.
Seeing the worried look on his wife’s face, your father stands. “Alicent, what is wrong?”
“I’m afraid I have some dreadful news for your grace,” she says. “It’s regarding Ser Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong.”
—
You twiddle with the green and gold ribbons that go down the center of your pale gold dress. It was a beautiful gift from your stepmother, but you couldn’t wear it yet. You focus on the design of the fabric and how it reminds you of dragon scales; it was a good distraction from the last memory you have of your late husband plaguing your mind.
Smiling, you pull your riding gloves off with your teeth as you make your way out of the dragon pit, listening intently as Aegon talked about his lessons in sword fighting. Your conversation comes to an abrupt halt when Ser Harwin appears at the doorway.
He bows his head, but before he has a chance to say anything, Aegon sharply asks, “What do you want?”
“I simply wish to speak to my wife, my prince.”
Aegon turns to you to gauge what your intentions are. Once you nod your head, silently telling him it was okay, he looks between you and Harwin, shooting a death stare at the knight. He says, “Fine, but she can’t stay long. We are expected to have tea with my mother, the queen, shortly.”
Harwin nods his head. “Of course, my prince, I won’t take much of the princess' time.”
When Aegon is out of earshot, Harwin faces you, and the amusement on his face is clear. “I’m glad that your brother is so protective of you.”
“What do you wish to speak to me about?”
He straightens his posture and says, “I am leaving tonight with my father to return to Harrenhal, and I just wanted to say goodbye as it may be some time before I return.”
Feeling your eyes become glossy, you stare at the ground and ask, “Have you said goodbye to Rhaenyra?”
“No, I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”
Heaviness weighs down on your chest. You doubted he was being truthful; you fully expected him and Rhaenyra to say a tearful farewell, but your feelings of concern for the children were stronger than your anger towards them. You clear your throat. “I hope you speak to Jacaerys and Lucerys before you go; they deserve a proper goodbye.”
Harwin’s expression is hard to read as he leans forward, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “I truly am sorry.”
When you remain silent, Harwin bows his head slightly and goes to leave. A horrid feeling twists in your gut; you don’t quit explaining it, but you feel as if it’s a final goodbye. You step forward and ask, “When do you intend to return?”
He gives you a soft smile and says, “Whenever you ask me to, princess.”
You jump when approaching footsteps pull you from your thoughts. You spin around, hand clapped to your chest, the feeling of your heart beating fast pressing against your palm. “Ser Criston, I had no idea you were behind me.”
“Forgive me for startling you, princess,” the knight says. “The queen has asked that I accompany you to the docks.”
Knowing that it was time to leave, you reached for the shawl, lying across your bed, and draped it across your shoulders before leaving your chambers. Many a lord and lady offered you their condolences as you made your way outside as the news of Harwin and his father, the kings hand burning to death made its way around court. In the back of your mind, you wondered how Jace and Luke were coping. No matter how much you hated Rhaenyra for hurting you, you could never hate your nephews.
—
Noticing you rolling your eyes at his comments, Aegon scoffs, “I’m just saying, I hate the color black.”
Not only were you dressed appropriately to mourn Harwin, you were all wearing black as you made your way to Driftmark for the funeral of your uncle's late wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, who had died during childbirth.
“You hate most things.”
Aegon pouts, “I do not.”
You tap your finger along a thick rope that was attached to the side of the boat, trying to think of something smart to say back, but your mind draws blank. “What’s something you love, then?”
“I enjoy drinking and beautiful women.”
Smiling, you shake your head, turning to face the choppy waves. “You’re ridiculous.”
Aegon’s nose crinkles as irritation spreads across his features. He looks up at the sky, watching as your dragons fly side by side. “Sunfyre.”
You smile; the dragon keepers had already spoken about how strong the bond between Sunfyre and Aegon was, especially since the golden dragon never hatched in the crib and they had only bonded a few years prior. “There is no denying that, lēkia.”
You stand together in a comfortable silence, watching as the scenery around you changes, until your destination comes into view and your heart drops. The thought of seeing Rhaenyra again so soon after Harwin’s death made you feel sick.
Aegon stretches his arms out and yawns, but his attention changes to something behind you. He clears his throat and says, “Father.”
You turn to see your father standing on the other side of you with a smile on his face, which was surprising since this was the first time you had spoken following the argument in his bedchamber. “Have you thought anymore about what we discussed?”
Before you can answer, Ghost, the beautiful white dragon you're bonded with, swoops down low and lets out a loud screeching noise, startling everyone on the boat. “No, your grace, I haven’t.”
—
As the funeral ends and the wake for Lady Laena begins, Aegon rudely interrupts the conversation you’re having with the ladies from the house, Darklyn and Baratheon. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you behind him, further away from the crowd and behind some large rocks, so you're out of sight. “What are you doing?” You frown. “That was incredibly ill-mannered; the queen will be furious.”
“What does Father want you to think about?”
You toyed with loose threads on the sleeve of your dress; you felt too embarrassed to tell him the truth. “It doesn’t matter.”
Aegon scoffs, “Fine; perhaps I’ll go ask him myself.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you are obviously fucking upset!” Aegon stumbles backwards into one of the rocks. He had been drinking since you got off the boat; it was actually astonishing that he wasn’t sliding his words by now. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“It’s humiliating, that’s why.” A sinking realization hits you suddenly, and tears glisten in your eyes. “Father no longer wants me around; he wants to ship me off to Dragonstone.”
“I will speak to my mother tonight; you cannot go and live with her; to even suggest it is an insult,” he says, shaking his head. “The king is neither blind nor stupid; he’s in denial and would rather believe my mother is a fool over Rhaenyra being a whore.”
“Aegon!”
“What she is! She slept with your husband and had his bastard children.”
“I know.” The black thread you’ve been pulling on finally snaps. “But—”
You freeze when you hear a snapping sound behind you. Aegon stares at you with his mouth slightly agape. Someone just heard everything he said.
Brother - Lēkia
#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#Aegon II Targaryen#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#Aegon II Targaryen/you#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen#ghosts in the sky#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen x oc#Aegon Targaryen x fem oc#Aegon Targaryen/oc#Aegon ii x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#Aegon ii Targaryen x fem oc
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m posting this request on this blog to see if it shows up in the tags because everything I’ve been posting on @sunnytarg hasn’t been appearing in the tags.
Jacaerys Velaryon
When the war broke out and Jace was sent to Winterfell by his mother to draw the Stark’s support to their side, he wasn’t expecting to fall in love with Cregan Stark’s younger sister.
He had gone to Winterfell on business alone and was more than aware that he was betrothed but it had all seemed irrelevant when he met the younger Stark. He had only been in the freezing castle of Winterfell for two days before an affair started. When it was time for him to leave, he begged his lover to come with him and be his bride. She had only smiled at him sadly and gave him one last kiss before she declined and wished him fair well.
It was the last time that he saw her. After they had won the war, and his mother sat on the throne, he received no news of Cregan Stark’s sister. Eventually, he let go of his foolish dream of being with the northern woman and marrying his betrothed. His marriage to Baela was a union filled with respect and love that grew over time. He was grateful to be married to such a woman and eventually found that he didn’t think about his lost love as much as he once did.
That was, of course, until his mother announced that Cregan Stark and his family would be coming to King’s Landing to celebrate the five years of peace after the war. Jace’s mind had not calmed until he was standing outside of the Red Keep, alongside his mother, to greet his old friend. He watched as several carriages rolled along. Cregan emerged from the first one, holding out a hand for his Lady wife to step out. After her foot hit the ground, several of the children that must have been Cregan’s started to pile out of the carriage. The youngest looking to be no more than two years. He greeted his friend and his wife, as well as their children when the second carriage finally stopped.
This time a large, burly man stepped out of the carriage and held his hand out the same way Cregan had done for his wife. Jace took in everything about the other man and when he saw a crest with a bear on his chest, he knew this was Lord Mormont. Before he could question why Lord Mormont was here when his mother specifically said that it was the Starks that was coming, a woman that he hadn’t seen in years stepped out of the carriage. She was still as beautiful as when he met her only this time, she cradled her swollen stomach as she helped her two sons out of the carriage. Jace swallowed his disappointment, hoping that she had remained unwed. He smiled and politely greeted Lord Mormont. When, the now, Lady Mormont appeared before him with her sons he knew his smile turned softer and the way he took her hand and kissed it was much too familiar. She smiled politely back but turned away at the soonest possible second. Knowing he’d be unable to demand her attention as they all entered the castle, he looked at her sons. Both with unruly hair and giant smiles. They looked close to the same age but he could tell that the one with the slightly more puggish nose was older, perhaps five years of age.
As the days pass, he barely sees the woman who his mind rarely strays from. He chats with Cregan and plays with his friend’s children. He gets to know Lord Mormont and can’t tell if it’s better or worse that he seems to be a good man. It’s only at the feast and when he goes to the training yard that he sees Lady Mormont. She watches her sons play with wooden swords and swat at passing Queens Guards with a soft smile. When her eldest manages to trip one up she chuckles and Jace decides to leave her in peace, knowing he’d only ruin the moment for her.
The day before they are meant to leave is the day that she finally speaks to him. Well, it’s not so much as to him but as to everyone that is standing around. She had run into the throne room frantically telling everyone how she couldn’t find her eldest. How she had planned on putting them to sleep but only found her youngest. She had searched everywhere she could think of before she decided he was missing and thought it best to inform her family and the Queen.
No one wasted any time trying to find the young boy. Jace found himself outside, looking in the small hiding places in the training yard he used to hide in when he was a child. When that wielded no results his eyes snagged on the dragon pit and his heart sank. What little boy wouldn’t want to see dragons before he left? He remembered the boy chattering on at the feast about how he made his mother read almost every book on dragons that they had to him.
Jace had never moved so quickly before and found himself at the dragon pit in record time. He couldn’t find any of the dragon handlers but he refused to turn away in case the young boy was down by the dragons. He called his name and got no response.
With dread creeping up his throat, he made his way further into the caverns where the dragons resided. He Vermax and gave him a pat on the snout before continuing further. He stopped when he finally saw the young boy. Jace said a quick thank you to all of the gods that he could think of when he saw that he was alive and standing and not a pile of ashes on the ground. He strode over to him quickly but stopped short when he saw him climb atop a young dragon named Valaxon. She was approximately the size of a fully grown horse but Jace had seen her with the other dragons and with the handlers. She was a rough dragon, which came as no surprise because she came from a clutch of Moondancer’s eggs.
When he saw that the young dragon wasn’t planning on eating the northern boy, Jace stopped and stared. The dragon practically preened under the boy's attention and for the first time since the Starks and Mormonts arrived, Jace truly took in the boy. He remembered thinking how he must have been no more than five years of age, at first he brushed that little thought off and thought that his old love had moved on from him quickly after he left. His age and the fact that he clearly bonded with a dragon were proof enough for Jace now. He tried not to let the boy see the tears in his eyes as he approached him. He couldn’t very well explain to a child that his mother must have known that she was with child when he left and chose not to tell him of the life that they had created.
He tried not to think of the years he missed with his child and his old lover when the boy beamed at him from atop a dragon.
Aegon II Targaryen
When it was announced that The Lady of House Wylde would be joining her husband in King’s Landing after they had won the war, Aegon had thought little of it. He knew only a little of Master of Laws personal life. He knew that he had four wives at some point and that one remained. He also was aware that he had sided over twenty children with said wives. He had no idea how many he had with the current Lady of House Wylde but he hoped it wasn’t many. He didn’t want several children running about the Red Keep.
The Lady and five young children arrive a few days later. As the King, he goes to greet his Master of Laws wife and the Lady of House Wylde when her carriage stops. After her children pile out of the carriage, she finally steps out. Aegon is taken aback by the noblewoman. She’s stunning, much too beautiful for Jasper Wylde. When he goes to greet him, she curtsies before him and he notices her red cheeks when she raises her head. Only when he meets her eyes does he remember his small tour of the Stormlands as a prince and his dalliance with the Lady of the Rain House. She was young, as was he, and already married to Lord Wylde with a son and daughter. Every night he had been there, they snuck away and enjoyed each other.
When it was time to move on with the tour and away from House Wylde, he hadn’t thought about his brief dalliance afterward. After all, he had slept with many women. Whores and noblewomen alike and on his tour of the realm she most certainly was not the only Lady he had fucked.
The trance she is in, and the stare she had focused on the king was broken when her children broke into a little scuffle over who was to greet the king first. She mumbled her apologies as her husband lined up his children and introduced them to him in order of age. Aegon fleetingly remembered the eldest two, but they had grown so much in the few short years that he had difficulty placing their names without help. The third was born sometime after he had visited them and his Master of Laws said that it only seemed right to name his third child and second son after the future king. Little Aegon could barely meet his eyes as he bowed and mumbled a greeting. Unlike the other children who took heavily after their father, he resembled his mother.
When the greetings were over, Lord Wylde had told Aegon that he would see his wife and children to their chambers and then he would meet him at the small council. Aegon had nodded noncommittally as he watched the Wylde brood walk off, his eyes lingering on the Lady and the third child. The timing lined up well enough, but if that child was his, he had no clue. There was no resemblance and the Lady had given no indication that he was his. Aegon supposed it didn’t matter much, he had many bastards wandering throughout the city and most likely the Realm. If he was honest, many of the children that ran about the Red Keep could possibly be his bastards so he saw no reason why he would think anything of this Wylde child potentially being another.
The presence of Lady Wylde and her children hadn’t made much of a wave throughout the Red Keep. She had befriended many Ladies of the Court, and his sister-wife, Helaena had taken to the Lady quickly; they were inseparable as were their children. Her two eldest children quickly became friends with his daughter and were often seen running about together. The three youngest were always with their mother, who in turn tended to be with Helaena and his youngest son, Maelor. Aegon had tried not to let his gaze linger on the beautiful Lady. It wouldn’t do well to fuck the Master of Laws wife, but the more she was around the more he remembered their brief dalliance. He remembered fucking her roughly in dark hallways and covering her mouth to hide her gorgeous moans. At night, he let his mind wander to those nights they shared and he often found himself fisting his cock at the remembrance of her wet cunt and the way it squeezed him.
His mother’s words had painted a certain picture so when he finally entered the nursery to see Helaena, Lady Wylde, a crying Maelor and Lady Wylde’s third child, little Aegon as Lord Wylde called him, holding a vividly green dragon hatchling with the cracked egg on the ground, he was surprised, to say the least. Aegon realized what happened immediately. The egg that was placed in little Maelor’s crib in hopes that the dragon inside would bond with him had finally hatched and instead bonded with Lady Wylde’s son. It doesn’t take long for Aegon to come to the conclusion that the children must truly be his because without Targaryen blood the child never would have been able to bond with a dragon.
His sudden laughter filled the room and startled everyone. Of all his bastards, never had one claimed a dragon. He looked over at his ex-mistress and saw the horrified look on her face at what this all meant. Perhaps she had only the smallest inkling that her child could have been his, after all the little boy didn’t resemble him in any way. This news would spread fast and her husband would be bound to find out sooner rather than later. He clamped his hand on the small boy's shoulder and congratulated him, the boy only nodded as the small dragon climbed up his arm and settled on his other shoulder, chirping happily. Aegon looked over at Lady Wylde and smiled charmingly before saying, “I’ll talk to your husband. There is no need to worry.”
The Lady visibly swallowed and whispered a thank you before Aegon led the smaller Aegon out of the room, intending to bring him to the dragon pit. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Lord Wylde to let the little boy stay in King’s Landing after this. Perhaps he could sway him into letting the Lady remain with her son. His sly smile overcame his face at the thought of resuming his affair with the woman as their child learned about bonding with a dragon.
Aemond Targaryen
Aemond knew that when he took Harrenhal it was his right to take any of the women to his bed as a prize. Truthfully, he had considered it but then his eyes landed on her. While some of the women looked at him with disgust or fear for taking their home, she looked at him with her nose turned upward and a hard look in her eyes that drew him towards her. What he had with her for those few weeks probably wouldn’t have been considered an affair. He spent his meals with her and found time every day to talk or walk with her and despite the fact that he aches for her, he didn’t take her to his bed until a week before he left to go back to King’s Landing.
He hadn’t forgotten her in the years that passed. When he married the youngest Baratheon daughter for an alliance, he thought of the woman at Harrenhal. When he bedded his new wife, he pictured another woman beneath him and the way she moaned as he had taken her. How she wrapped her legs around his waist and how she stroked his scar. His wife hadn’t done any of that. She lay underneath him and refused to look at him. He saw the same slight disgust in her eyes when it came to his scar. She didn’t cling to him and he fucked her and when he spilled inside of her she hadn’t whispered how she hoped his seed would take root in her womb, but instead rolled off the bed and pulled on her nightgown and left.
As the years passed, Aemond got used to his loveless marriage. His wife had never grown to love him and he never grew to love her but he loved the children that his loveless marriage wielded. He spent the most time with them, their mother often found herself spending time with the women in court or going to her place of birth. She barely glanced at her silver-haired children after they were old enough to be away from her.
In the quiet moments in his life, he often found his mind wandering to Harrenhal and the woman he had grown to love within those walls. He missed how he could laugh freely with her and how she looked at him, truly looked at him, and didn’t see the prince who rode the largest dragon or the scarred and disfigured kinslayer but only saw him, Aemond Targaryen. He would often get hard at the thought of her in their last moments together. Most of the time he would close his eyes and fist his cock and imagine it was her that was doing it but there were times that it wasn’t enough, and those were the nights that he found his wife in her chambers. They didn’t speak as he rutted into her and he wondered if she thought of someone else as he did. Usually, these moments would result in a babe down the line. He currently had seven children from his Baratheon wife. His eldest was seven years of age, born just before the war ended. He was a quiet boy who preferred the company of his dragon. His second eldest was a little girl, only a year younger than her brother, she was always in the dirt looking for insects for her beloved aunt.
He was lost in his thoughts about his children when his brother made a small announcement. His wife nudged his side and he blinked back to reality and looked at his brother, his king (he thought with disgust if it wasn’t for him that crown wouldn’t be on his head), as he told the few family members at the table that new knights were being brought to the Red Keep to join the Kingsguard. Aemond made no acknowledgment until his daughter of five years tugged on his arm excitedly and began talking nonstop about what her elder sister told her about knights. He listened, his entire attention on her, as his wife conversed with his mother.
Aemond went with his mother and princess Jaehaera to examine the potential knights for the Kingsguard. When it was one man’s turn, Aemond looked him over intensely. He could have sworn that he had heard the House that he belonged to before but he couldn’t place it. He also looked familiar but Aemond was sure that he had never met the man before in his life. Eventually, he was one of the knights chosen to join the Kingsguard and on top of that, he was sworn to his sister, Queen Helaena.
As he strode down the corridors of the Red Keep, planning on going to his chambers, he saw his daughter running at full speed. He thought that she was running to him and he opened his arms wide for her to jump into but instead she ducked under him and crashed into a girl he had never seen. The young girls were giggling on the floor when a woman came around the corner, the other girl's mother probably. It wasn’t until the children were standing up that she turned her gaze to Aemond. He felt frozen to the spot when their eyes met. It was her. The woman from all those years ago. The woman who proved he could be loved. She smiled fondly at him and without saying a word she turned and the two girls followed after her.
When he was back in his chambers he let his mind wander to her and the little girl that must have been hers. The child looked so much like her and she looked at the child so fondly that no one would miss the maternal nature of it. The little girl was probably a little older than his eldest and was clearly friends with his eldest daughter.
It clicked then. The knight from earlier must have been her brother. He remembered her talking about a brother who was off fighting for the greens during the war and had aspirations of becoming a knight. Perhaps she was visiting him in the capital.
He decided he would find out the next day. He would invite her to tea with him in the gardens and ‘catch up’. He wanted to ask why she never sent word after he left, he wanted to ask about her daughter and if she had a husband. He wanted to know everything about her.
The next day, he joined his mother and sister for tea in the gardens. They always asked him to join and he rarely took them up on the offer but today she was with them and he had no idea how he could say no. She smiled at him as he sat with them and rarely took her eyes off of him as the time passed. He asked her about her daughter, who he learned was only a little older than his eldest son. He asked about her husband. The question made her pause and look down into her cup. Her smile dropped slowly as she said he was a good man and provided for their little family. After that he questioned her no more on her family.
Instead, he mentioned how it seemed that his children, Jaehaera, and her daughter seemed as thick as thieves. All the women giggled at that and it was Helaena who told him that the girls went to the dragon pit. They were insistent on showing their new friend their dragons. As if the girls heard their parents talking about them, several dragons appeared in the sky. He saw Morghul, Xurmag, and Dallas in the sky. Clearly being ridden by the young princess but following them was a bigger dragon. He squinted up and saw that it was Silverwing, who was unclaimed since the war. When the dragons descended in front of the adults, the girls scrambled off with shrieks of laughter.
When Silverwing landed it was the daughter of his ex love that climb off. She looked frazzled but excited. He felt his mothers and sisters gaze on him as he watched the young girl walk over to her mother. He finally looked up at the woman who was already staring at him. The truth didn’t need to be spoken aloud. They all knew it. Perhaps, though, with this new information he could persuade her to stay in King’s Landing, or better, he could take his children and their dragons and they could go to Harrenhal. Where it all started.
Daemon Targaryen
Many of the dragon riders thought little of the dragon handlers. Daemon, while he looked down upon many, he didn’t look down on the man who took care of his beloved dragon. No one else was suited for the job but this specific dragon handler so he became close with him and his family. Meeting his wife and two children. His son had already married some commoner and was training to be a dragon handler himself when Daemon first came around.
His daughter on the other hand was a different matter entirely. She was gorgeous and fierce, and if Daemon hadn’t met her parents already he would have thought she was born from a dragon. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall together. The first time he had taken her had been in the cavern in which Caraxes was held. Her father had been away and their desire for each other had reached a boiling point. Quickly he turned her around and shoved her against the wall and slipped his cock inside of her. Neither cared that a dragon was only a few feet away, all they cared about was each other at that moment.
Their brief tryst had stopped abruptly when his brother exiled him after the death of the Queen and his son. He should have seen it coming, truthfully, but it still hurt all the same. He had tried to convince his lover to come with him into exile but she refused to leave her father behind. Daemon had been close to just tossing her onto Caraxes and flying off but he couldn’t drag her down with him, so he left without saying goodbye.
When he returned from the Step Stones four years later he had hoped to see her again but he hadn’t. For the brief time he was at the dragon pit he had asked after her and all the information he received was that she married a kind and strong man whilst he was away. Daemon refused to let jealousy fester inside of him as he took off again. This time to Pentos.
Several years had passed since he had last seen her. Enough time for him to not think about her and at times forget about her. They had good times, he wasn’t denying that, but they had both married since then, and in his case, he’d been widowed twice and remarried again. When he finally came back to King’s Landing, it had been close to fourteen years since he last saw her. He tried to act nonchalant as he slid off of his dragon and let her father and several other dragon handlers deal with Caraxes.
He watches the dragon handlers for a moment before he decides to go and talk with his old lover. Still as beautiful as the day he had met her, he think with a smile. As he takes a step towards her, though, he hears a shout from what sounds like a little girl. He’s ready to ignore it but she snaps her head in the direction of the dragon pit with worry in her eyes. It’s not until she hears giggling that her face relaxes.
Daemon finally makes his way over to her. She stiffens at his close proximity but doesn’t move away. He hadn’t thought about what he wanted to say to her, he only knew he wanted to be close to her one last time. Finally, he asks who the screaming had come from and reluctantly she told him it was her daughter. When she came to visit her father at the dragon pit, her daughter often liked to join them.
“Isn’t that rather dangerous,” Daemon mussed as Caraxes was finally corralled into the pit. When he looked back at his ex-lover he waited for a reply but only found a sly smirk on her face instead.
Only a few moments after he had asked his question, a girl barely a teenager came out of the entrance of the pit on the back of a blood-red dragon. It wasn’t fully grown but it definitely wasn’t a baby. She rode it like a horse as she waved down at her mother. From the looks of it, it wasn’t her first time being atop this dragon.
Daemon watched in awe as his old lover's daughter took flight on a dragon. He supposed that he could have left her with child before he left but other than the brief fleeting thought, he hadn’t thought much of it. Now, though, seeing what clearly must have been his daughter soaring through the skies on a dragon that resembled Meleys, he couldn’t deny that not only did he have a daughter with his old lover, but a dragon rider as well.
#house of the dragon#hotd#aegon ii targaryen x oc#Aegon ii Targaryen x reader#Aegon ii Targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon x oc#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
“Please. Make me forget. It's over. I know it’s over. It's over. But I no longer know who I am.”
“(…) You speak of survival, yet what you truly desire is victory. You cloak this delicate ego of yours beneath the guise of a yearning for peace. At what cost, Annika? What kind of victory is it the one who begets more adversaries and puts further walls between you and the world?”
i’m never gonna love (again) – chapter xxxiv
#im never gonna love again#aegon ii targaryen#fanfic#team green#aegon ii fanfic#hotd#asoiaf#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen fic#aegon targaryen smut#annika lannister#aegon x oc#team green fic#team green fanfic#i can’t believe it’s almost over wtf#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon fic#hotd fanfic#aegon ii targaryen x oc
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aegon’s Christine (2/2)
Fannon!Aegon ii Targaryen x F!singer!Reader
{phantom of the opera Inspired AU}
Summary: Aegon’s pleased over the fact that Christine will be visiting the red keep and is performing for the ball but things between them start getting strained .
Warnings‼️obsessive/toxic relationship, mean Aegon, nsfw, kidnapping, nsfw ‼️
Taglist: @heavenly1927
Lots of love and thanks to my beautiful bestfriend @luckytoucan for beta reading 🥹🥹🥹
Aegon’s master plan had worked. He had convinced the Queen Rhaenyra to bring a young singing prodigy from the streets of silk as a performer for all the nobility. His mother was rather surprised but suspicious at his sudden growth of knowledge in the arts of music as well.
He could already imagine you as a bard, you would sing and play for him and only him. He would make sure of it, and then for the nights he would spend them in your company as well. You were his now, day and night. He watched intently from his bedchamber’s window as you reached the red keep dressed in white just as the first time he saw you, that night. Unfortunately for him he had underestimated how much of your voice would be spent on others who were not him. Rhaenyra shared Aegon’s new interest in music, often making you sing for the children. You had to teach them as well, singing to the young Viserys and young Aegon. You didn’t mind, it was quite refreshing to have to sing to adorable blonde haired babies. You were employed as a nanny as well. Helaena often sat to listen to you as well. Aegon sadly had to watch from the corner, too afraid you would find out he was the phantom if he were to approach you so he watched from afar, sipping from his cups. He would rather not have that, he didn’t want to let you get to know the real him.
“You’ve been staring a lot at that one” Aemond said sitting beside his brother “have you sunk your claws in her yet brother?”
His hands clenched his hands in anger, his nails pressing into the soft of his palms. Was he that obvious? If Aemond had figured out so had his mother.
“Does mother doubt anything?”
“If you keep being so obvious she just might” Aemond warned.
And worst of all, you could barely speak or let alone sing at night with him. Your voice was strained and it needed rest. Many a meeting with him were taken lightly, with you simply telling him it was late and you required sleep. You shunned Aegon aside and worst of all he didn’t see any remorse in you. His blood boiled. Aegon began to fall back into his old habits, drinking, gambling and spending the nights with whores. All the while to prevent thoughts of you from popping into his head.
Truthfully speaking, you were tired of the identity he hid with so much ferocity, he would swat your creeping hand away if you even attempted to take off his hood, let alone his mask. There was no real progression in this relationship, and now you had work. You wanted to see his face but you were denied. Was it always going to be like this forever? Being in love with someone who you do not even know the name of. The real name. You knew it would end someday, something Aegon had not once considered since the day he met you all those years ago. And you finally decided to let him loose.
Truthfully you missed him more and more with each passing day, your nights were strangely empty without him. You missed his annoying remarks and his little snides he would throw at you. You missed his praise for when you sang. You wondered if he would even come to the ball where you would perform. It had been 2 weeks and he had completely stopped coming around. He promised that he would. Would he show?
You forced yourself to move on, you cursed your past self for agreeing to sing for the strange man, the phantom, a fleeting ghost which only appeared at night. Your singing had opened up new opportunities for you. You would simply have to focus on them and move on. Aegon on the other hand tried hard to be sober, it didn’t help to hear you sing in the red keep. You were where you were because of him.
You should be grateful to him and all he’s done for you. But you shut him out and eventually stopped making time for him. He was beyond enraged. Often leaving the room if you entered. He couldn’t bear to hear your voice. He should have been happy for you but he just couldn’t. Not when you were not with him. He wanted you but he didn’t want to show his true identity, he was far too high in station to bring a common woman as a wife. He reasoned.
You knew the prince Aegon didn’t like your presence, you did your best to avoid him at every corner. You would stop singing when he entered the gardens. Quite frankly speaking you’ve heard of the prince being a lustrous man who would anger easily. A man who spent his days in a lazy slump drinking and eating away. Something about him felt odd, like you knew him.
“My lady, I must offer you a piece of advice” prince Aemond said smirking “stay away from my brother Aegon, he finds your appearance quite hideous and your voice vexing to the ear.” It was a clear taunt, and you absolutely hated aemond now as well.
Your suspicions were confirmed and you made it a point to stay clear of the gloomy prince. You felt anger grow from within. He amongst all the princes was the least popular for his lack of charisma and charm, he had no notable talents, he was bad with the sword as he was with diplomacy. Did he even have an ounce of passion in his soul? His words struck a nerve. You stopped being quiet around him after, singing to annoy the prince. You noticed he disliked a particular love song and you sang it on repeat around him. The song was ‘all I ask of you’ every time you sang it for his sister Helaena he would mutter some curses under his breath and leave the room.
You would half heartedly curtsy to him and this all did not go unnoticed by the prince, your sudden defiance. Perhaps it was best that he had let you go. He thought.
He groaned when he thought of your performance that would take centre stage. He cursed himself for being kind to you. He saw you practising in the gardens, twirling around with a sash. Somewhere deep within he just wanted to end the separation, kiss you and come clean of who he truly was. But he didn’t, he went against what he wanted and kept his ego high.
The night of the performance you were nervous standing behind the door waiting for the sign to let you in. Your hands trembled and your breath grew shallow. Thoughts of doubt and insecurity entered your mind all at once. You wondered if the phantom was there, if he came for you. You were a mess right before a performance.
Prince Aegon strolled past the room you were in, he had no business in that part of the castle but yet he found himself walking curious to see how you were holding up. He saw you clasping your hands together to stop them from trembling, my, you looked gorgeous in the gown you wore, a bright red and orange gown most probably designed in Dorne. You hadn’t noticed Aegon. “Nervous?” He choked out. The words slipping before he even had a chance to stop them.
“Always” you smiled nervously. He walked up to you bottle in hand. His hands clasped your gloved one
“What are you doing?” You asked confused
“A gift..” he said with no other emotion showing. He pushed an emerald ring up your finger “for courage”
“Thankyou” you muttered “I’ll return it to you after I-”
“Christine, it’s your turn” a handmaiden said. You turned around to look at the prince “thankyou..again for this” you said showing the ring.
“Go, don’t disappoint the Targaryens”
You stared at him bewildered..that line it was so familiar. Something the phantom once said to you. Aegon wasn’t the phantom. He couldn’t be, the phantom was funny, the phantom was oddly sweet and kind. The phantom kissed you the sweetest—
Aegon stood quietly. So much left unsaid.
He watched from backstage as you performed, singing a song you had practiced a thousand times. It was perfection. You were perfection. He smiled watching your distant figure move the lords and ladies.
There was a dance where you were allowed to participate despite being low-born. Aegon watched from atop on the Targaryen’s high table as you danced with lords. He didn’t care. He did as promised and visited you before your performance. He’s fulfilled his promise. It’s over now. He cursed himself for giving up his ring though if he was really being honest he was meaning to give it to you for a while.
“My prince” you said approaching the table “I want to return this..” you said quietly
“Why..?” He simply asked shocked. He felt as though his advances were being rejected. He knew it, everyone disliked him after all..the worst of the late king viserys’ children. He simply held onto the ring rolling it in between his fingers as he watched you be swept away by a lord asking you to dance. You didn’t hear him coming to you already too busy trying to keep your distance from the preening lord attempting to barge on your personal space. You laughed nervously, the lord was clearly interested in you. He wasn’t a big lord, but one of a rather well doing house. Marrying him would set you for life. The lord told you of how you had enchanted him with your sweet angelic voice, like it was a calling from the heavens. The lord attempted to lead you to the gardens.
“She’s not going anywhere.” prince Aegon said glaring at the man, barely handsome, barely rich. Was this the man you would let dance with you? He scoffed to himself.
“My prince I believe that is for our sweet lady to decide” the man said with a forced smile as he bowed politely almost to make up for his words.
‘Our sweet lady?’ Aegon chuckled ‘what a fool, she belongs to me and only me’
“It would take me a mere second to decide if I want your head served to me on a silver platter, talk to me again out of turn and you will see how I deliver my promises” Aegon spat out.
A hand grasps your shoulder from behind pulling you to him. His hands travelling to your waist almost too familiarly. The prince Aegon with a furious look in his eyes his face wore a scowl and his eyebrows scrunched together
“And who are you?” He asked the lord
“My name is Raoul of house Chagny”
“Never heard, a minor house?” Aegon scoffed
A look of horror showed on your face. Was phantom..the prince Aegon? It would make sense the way he spoke, the way he scoffed and insulted others. He didn’t even make any effort to hide his voice from you. Did he think you were slow?
“Lord Raoul, we were dancing” she says cutting him off before he could say anymore. She curtsied to the prince and let him dance with her. This time around her gaze never left Aegon’s. I know who you are. You thought. Why couldn’t you just tell me? Why hide? You loathe me now? You think my voice vexing? Me hideous? You thought as the lord twirled you around.
It was clear the phantom or rather Aegon was enraged at the sight. His hands tightly gripping around his chalice, his knuckles turning white. He watched as the man spun you around. Your eyes never actually meeting Raoul’s but instead Aegon’s.
And Raoul took notice “have no fear my lady for I am here” he said.
‘I’m not scared’ you thought before sending him a polite smile. Before your eyes strayed away to the prince. His violet eyes and strewn silver hair. That would explain the hood..
What if it’s not him? Risk offending the prince who already dislikes you ? That’s getting your head on a spike. You shuddered at the thought. You started to feel dizzy with all the realisations of the night. You had to know. To end this already overdue confrontation but Aegon had disappeared from the hall and wasn’t seen for the rest of the night.
When you made your way back to your house down the streets of kingslanding you saw a familiar figure who was the exact size of prince Aegon. The moment you longed for..to talk with him after so long. You were in no mood to beat around the bush
“Tell me who you are” you said calmly
“No.” He said shortly
“Then I bid you good night ser”
“Did you enjoy it? Prancing around with some man?” He chuckled but from his demeanour you knew. He was not happy
“Yes, I did. Do you want to know why?” You asked baiting him to ask you why you felt this way
“And why is that, my dear?” He chuckled his hand covering the lower part of his face as though forcing himself to calm down.
“Because Raoul is a good man” you said
“Raoul Raoul Raoul you don’t know the man!” He yelled
“I know not of you as well” you sharply retorted
The silence resumed between the two of you.
“And what of Raoul? Do you plan to keep him in the dark? Have you told him what you really are?” He asked in an incomprehensibly quiet tone.
You could feel an insult brewing you knew it was coming. “Did you tell him how you spent your nights with me? Unbecoming of a lady..you should keep no secrets as well. Tell him the whole of it! Go! Go now. I’m sure he’d let you in his bed if you try hard enough. Perhaps if you play the cards right you may see a ring on your finger soon enough.” He spat out with a crazed expression. His anger coursing through his veins
“You should tell him what kind of a little whore you were before becoming his wife. He will find out someday or another” he said taking a step towards her.
“What are you saying?” You asked “you would tell on our night together to Raoul?”
“It’s only fair! Since you want no secrets” he laughed. “But then I suppose he wouldn’t make you his wife but keep you as a mistress.”
“You seem to misunderstand..if by God’s grace a man like Raoul asks for my hand. I will leave you behind, I will forget about you completely and thoughts of you that linger in my mind will disappear. I would not want or need you.”
“A whore like you would never forget”
You slapped him hard. Across the face. His mask falls broken to the floor on impact. He grasped at his hood to cover his face. “I cannot play this silly game with you any longer. I have to move on and think what is best for myself. And it is not you” you said pushing him away. He grasped your shoulder pulling you to him. His hand made it’s way up to your next tilting your face to the side, his warm breath which smelt of sweet wine breathed down your ear when he whispered.
“You would be nothing without me” he said in a last desperate attempt to hurt you. You took his hand off of you. His fingers almost instantly reaching to attempt to clasp onto yours but you didn’t let him. Your head hurt. Your body hurt. Your heart hurt.
“Go back to your life you need not come here to show your masked face and cloaked self” you said sighing holding your forehead possibly hiding the tears forming from him. His eyes wide blown shown in the moonlight. Violet. You knew it. For that moment his hidden identity was thrown away in his shock. This was the end. No no. He would not let that be.
There was nothing more to say. He said his piece and you said yours. Perhaps you should have been harsher your mind raced. Perhaps you were too harsh. No no. It wasn’t you who was in the wrong. He was upset and it was he who threw the first insult. It was over, the brief love story between the both of you. Two years of your life down the drain. You felt tears finally fill your eyes. You wanted to truly know him. Know who he is under the mask. Now you know from your own theories who he really was. You weren’t happy. You felt miserable. All the fantasies of how he would one day pull down his mask for you was shattered. You let out broken sobs. How could you have been so stupid? Let yourself love someone like him?
And you slammed the door on him. Shutting him out.
And unknown to you Aegon wasn’t planning on letting you go any time soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lord Raoul began to charm you often barging in the red keep making excuses to talk to you. Raoul was serious about marrying you, a bit too serious. Hell you hadn’t even thought about whether you would actually get to accepting his proposal but you could see the wheels in his head turn with thoughts of marriage with every word he spoke “they say a woman is fulfilled in marriage” “i hope my children get my hair” he said pulling back his long brunette hair.
If you were truly being honest Raoul was controlling. He wanted everything his way. He did as he pleased and that made you dislike him. He’d drag you for walks in the garden where he would try to impress you with talks of history of Westeros and how the Targaryens came into power. All that Aegon had done in a much more laid back and calm manner for the fun of it. The phantom had his flaws but he never hid them, he talked about them and tried to work on them. The phantom thought the start of your friendship was forced the eventual relationship bloomed out of nights spent together, drinking, talking and laying in bed simply soaking up each other’s presence. The phantom knew what you liked, what you disliked and made efforts to impress you every chance he got. His sarcastic brutally vulgar comments were the thing that made you realise how much you loved him.
Raoul was not the phantom or rather Aegon..
Raoul only ever took you for walks gripping your hand as if it were the last rope on a sinking ship. You should be grateful a lord like him wants to marry you but your eyes kept wandering back to the blonde haired man who was stretched a distance apart from you. The man was awfully calm, unnervingly so. That even king Daemon took notice of the rather composed cold look of his.
“Is she still roaming with that lord?” Aemond inquired with his brother standing at the doorway of his bedchamber.
“She is” Aegon said with a slight look of disdain twisting the blade in his hand.
“I thought I would come here to your room being in ruin” aemond admitted “now that she has left you for another” ah, how aemond knew how to piss off his older brother. But for some reason it didn’t work this time around..
“I can’t bring my bride to my bedchambers when it’s in ruin Aemond”
Aemond was dumbstruck “a bride..? You haven’t been courting anyone and now you’ve chosen a bride?” He asked narrowing his one hood eye on his brother.
Aegon simply smirked playing with his dagger and that’s when aemond realised what he intended to do.
“Mother won’t like this” he warned Aegon..as he watched his brother press the sharp of the blade against his thumb drawing blood.
Aegon simply smirked.
the burning determination in Aegon’s purple eyes surprised aemond. He always noticed how Aegon’s eyes showed life whenever when it came to you. How his eyes lit up whether he was ranting about you in your separation or simply looking at you from afar. He wanted to see his brother happy somewhere deep down, he knew if Aegon was married to anyone else he would make his new wife miserable and in turn his mother and by that extension annoy Aemond and so aemond became a little accomplice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rhaenyra was a big fan of luxury and splendour. It wouldn’t be long until she holds another lavish ball for the nobility. Aegon just had to wait. How much longer could he wait? He felt the time passing by every moment he could have made use of by making you his. Aemond encouraged him to be patient and he tried. Stupid Raoul was already ready to drop on his knee and propose to you according to the spies he sent after you and Raoul. You hadn’t made any moves on Raoul. Of course you wouldn’t! You loved him. It satisfied him how he was the only one with whom you could share stolen kisses with. He was more than confident you would take him back over some stupid lord Raoul of what house again…?
“Raoul where are you taking me?” You asked as he pulled on your arm.
“Just follow me” he said hurriedly “I can wait any longer..I can wait no more for you”
“Raoul..?” You asked confused “Raoul stop this!”
“I cannot I cannot stop loving you” what in the seven hells. the line alone should have made you soften up but all you felt was annoyance. Raoul said dropping on his one knee.
“Marry me. That’s all I ask of you” he said holding your hands in his. Your mind went blank. There would be no returning after this. The point of no return. Your heart beat quickly you hadn’t answered yet. He was awaiting an answer. Why were you waiting for Aegon. He wouldn’t show. He wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t come to steal you away.
“Are you there?” Raoul asked squeezing your hands bringing you back to reality. You had to choose what was right. You couldn’t miss on this chance. Yet your heart told you to wait. Your mind spewed hate at your neediness for Aegon.
“Iet me think this through Raoul..?”
“No more talk of darkness
Forget these wide-eyed fears
I'm here, nothing can harm you
My words will warm and calm you~”
“I need to think Raoul please don’t sing” his voice was grating as you held your head feeling the forming headache
“Let me be your freedom
Let daylight dry your tears
I'm here, with you, beside you
To guard you and to guide you
Say you love me—”
“Raoul please I need to think”
But you didn’t love him. Marriages didn’t need love. It’s okay you were justified so what. Who were you waiting for? The phantom wasn’t going to come for you. Aegon wasn’t going to come to save you like a prince in shining armour.
“No I won’t— no I refuse to marry you” the words stuck in your throat instead you whispered out a quiet..
“Yes, I’ll marry you” you said like you’d rehearsed all throughout your childhood in dreams of marrying for love. But your tone was grim. This was what you were supposed to want. But you didn’t want it. You didn’t want him.
Tears streamed down your cheeks if only Raoul could see that they were not tears of happiness. You would never sing again and you had no energy to sing anymore. Raoul slipped the silver band around your finger. The ring far too tight on your finger.
“I knew you would make the right choice” he said proudly placing a chaste kiss on your lips cupping your face. “Your family will be quite pleased with a lord like me for a son-in-law” he said. Your mind went numb and you couldn’t help but feel like you had betrayed yourself in some sort of way.
“I must say from now onwards you cannot sing at events or functions” he said tapping your cheek.
“Atleast let me sing one last time at the masquerade before I finally leave this life behind me” you said sighing
“No, you may not. You already have enough eyes on you as is. You may sing in our new home and only to our children” he said pulling you in a suffocating hug.
“You could still sing in our new home” he said. “Can you not make a single sacrifice for me?” He asked his grip on your hands tight.
“Just once please. One last time” you begged your fiancé. “I’ll never sing again after”
Raoul contemplated hard. And finally reluctantly agreed. You felt as though your life was changing for the worse and Raoul felt like a king to have the woman he so wanted. How disconnected was he? To not see simple dissatisfaction on your face. The word spread wide that you were to be Raoul’s wife and the last time you would be up on stage would be at Jace and Baela’s wedding party.
The wedding party was in the next two days. You and Raoul kept your engagement secret from the others. You wanted to stall as much as you could but you couldn’t quite figure out why Raoul suggested to keep it secret in the first place. You wore a beautiful red gown gifted by Aegon..you still remember his words.
“This would look good on you for one of your performances” he said acting casual but you noticed how he waited for you to tell him you loved the gift. He always observed you keenly to see if you actually liked the gift or not. He had a surprisingly good taste for clothing.
“You don’t even like the colour red!” You laughed.
“I cannot pull off red the way you do, my dear”
He said returning your smile with an embarrassed smile showing through his half masked face.
Raoul had drunk A LOT. The night of the ball when you were about to go on stage to sing one last time he gripped your hand with so much pressure it felt as though it would snap in half “I forbid you” he slurred “if you move from this seat, I promise you I’ll make you regret it” Raoul said his hand still wrapped around your wrist. Disappointed was a word that didn’t describe what you felt. You felt truly heartbroken and alone in that moment. You wanted to scream at Raoul, you wanted to cry your eyes out, you wanted to scream at Aegon as well for everything. Aegon-phantom-Aegon. Your mind travelled to ideas of what ifs which just wasn’t possible.
“if you just told me who you really were that night, what would have happened?” You wondered out loud quietly. Raoul sent you a confused stare “what?”
“No, no I’m sorry it’s nothing” you said quickly. Raoul didn’t bother later on.
“Are you to forbid me from dancing as well?” You asked looking at your fiancé who was chugging wine down his throat
“As long as it’s not with Aegon. I do not care” he said “I may dance with other ladies myself” he said “after all we are keeping this engagement a secret we can’t have people knowing the truth” he said sighing getting up from his seat walking towards a group of gentlemen. Men preferred the company of other men, it shouldn’t be surprising. You sat there at the table playing with the knife in your hand as you waited for the night to end. Raoul didn’t spare you a glance laughing with his men. Suddenly a fight broke out amongst the party guests. It was common for fights to break out at noble weddings.. it didn’t help the fact that a rampage was formed. The guards immediately went to escort the Targaryens away to safety. Suddenly a hand held tightly over your mouth dragging you away from the rushing crowd. Raoul saw this and called out for you but he was far away and couldn’t make it in time. You already knew who it was, only one person who would be crazy enough to pull off a stunt like this.
“Miss me my dear?” He chuckled dragging your resisting body to God know where. His strength was other worldly with him lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. Talking you down a stairway to the darkest parts of the red keep.
you asked struggling in his arms. Aegon was in no mood of speaking. His mind set on one goal. ‘Marry you and claim you his forever and ever’
his arms tightened around you to keep you still as he descended down the black cells dimly lit .
“You went ahead and decided to marry that stupid cunt Raoul?” He said. The name Raoul permanently scarred Aegon’s mind. “What is it that made you accept his proposal? You would throw away what we had for a man you’ve known two weeks” he barked “you really thought I wouldn’t find out you agreed to marry the man?” He laughed at the nerve you had. Leaving him for a man who didn’t deserve you.
“BETROTHED!” A Voice called out from behind Aegon. Whatever vulnerability that showed from the man dissipated in a blink of an eye. His jealous rage was back. He was losing you to a man who didn’t deserve you but deep down he felt as though he didn’t deserve you either and he took it out in the form of RAGE.
“Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest” the phantom whispered in your ear.
Raoul stilled in fear and shock on seeing his betrothed in another’s arms
“This is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come. And now, my wish comes true. You have truly made my night!” Aegon laughed his hold on you still ever so tight. As though in fear you would run towards the new man, your fiancé. He wouldn’t forgive you for this slight.
“Free her! Do what you like, only free her! Have you no pity?” Raoul yelled from afar. Attempting to walk closer to the masked man and you.
“Your lover makes a passionate plea...” Aegon said clearly upset with the obvious affection he beared for you. Aegon’s passion for you showed no end but the fact that Raoul had the nerve to rival his own..
“Please, Raoul. it's useless!” You pleaded for your fiancé to leave while he could.
“I love her! Does that mean nothing?I love her! Show some compassion!” Raoul yelled from across the room attempting to sway the phantom.
“My lord, I bid you welcome. Did you think that I would harm her? Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours?” He said in the darkness of the black cells the sound of his voice echoing of the walls.
Aemond wraps his arm around Raoul’s neck choking him and bringing him to his knees as he pressed his dagger firmly to your fiancé’s neck, if Raoul moved he would slice his neck. Raoul was in tears.
“Start a new life with me. Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death!This is the choice, this is the point of no return!” The phantom ordered his tone was stern and full of authority. You could not weasel your way out of this.
‘Say you love him and my life is over...’ Aegon thought as he waited for you to make your choice. Please. Please. Choose him. Tell him Raoul was a mistake.
“No point in fighting. For either way you choose you cannot win.” Aegon said letting you go as he waited for you to make your choice.
“So do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?” He asked seriously, Aemond’s one eye glanced towards the two of you in curiosity.
“Why make her lie to you to save me?” Raoul choked out.
‘Lie? Lie! Raoul’s word rang in his head. His audacity!you loved him, you loved Aegon. his eyes looked to yours and it was clear the answer he wanted. You would marry him. Love him. Be his. But it was for Raoul’s safety. Aegon’s eyes trailed to Raoul who was on his knees at the doorstep of death.
You walked to the phantom. Your hands reached to hold his masked face and you could feel how he instantly melted at your familiar touch.
“Pitiful creature of darkness, What kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you,
You are not alone...”
You said before pressing your lips, he tilted his head to better deepen the kiss. The feeling of your mouth on his. You were his one true love, the only one he would ever go mad for.
How could he trap you like a bird? And keep you in a marriage you had no choice in. Like his mother? Would you share the same fate as his mother then? He was not Viserys but he was his son after all, the thought of you unhappy with him made his insides churn. He wanted you happy more than anything and if it was with him..he would let you go. You loved Raoul, didn’t you? Why did he have to lose you? He cursed himself once more.
He pressed another small kiss on your cheek and then your forehead. His arms wrapped around you thinking..
You had forgotten about Raoul and Aemond. It felt as though it was only Aegon and you in the room. Aegon slowly separated the two of you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“Take her, forget me, forget all of this. Leave me alone, forget all you've seen.” He says to Raoul, he couldn’t make you go through marriage with him something you didn’t want. He loved you. Loved you so much it hurt to not be around you.
He looked to you once more “I love you, I have only ever loved you” whispering the words as his hands let go of your face.
Go now! Go now, and leave me!”
Aemond looked at his brother utterly confused. The plan..? He reluctantly let go off Raoul, the man fell to the ground his legs numb.
You hadn’t moved a single inch. You didn’t want to.
“You love me?” You asked
“Go, go now before I regret letting you go, my dear”
Raoul gathered his strength standing on his feet rushing to you pulling you away from the phantom. Raoul was your light….not this man before you.
Raoul grabbed your hand pulling you up the stairs in haste “who was that? You had lovers?” He asked infuriated.
You pulled your hand away from his. “Raoul” you said pulling off your silver wedding band. Putting it in his hands and closing them “you deserve someone who loves you. Not me!” you sighed
Raoul stood stunned “are we cancelling our betrothal? Our plans! Think of our plans!”
“Your plans, Raoul” you said shaking your head.
“Do you love him? That man” he asked disgusted
“With all my heart and with the entirety of my soul” you smiled. Raoul nauseated with your answer walked out of the door “this is your last chance, come with me and I shall forget this” he said sternly.
“Go Raoul” you said one last time and the man walked out of the hall.
You gasped as you felt a person walk past you. Aemond. His one eye scanning you. Aemond simply walked past you. He had work to do after all, he had to take care of lord Raoul now that he had seen far too much.
You walked down the stairs deep into the dark cells.
Aegon was plopped on the floor he raised his head to the sound of footsteps. Clearly confused by your appearance now..? His hood was off and his white wavy hair was tousled on his head. His mask still clung to his face.
“If you love me as you say you do. Show me. Show me all of you” you demanded descending down the stairs.
He stood quickly in anticipation “you came back” he stated surprised. “You came for me?” He asked. “What of Raoul?” He asked bitterly.
“Raoul is not you. He’ll never measure to you” you said softly. Aegon felt as though he was hallucinating you.
You stood a few feet apart from him. “You chose me” he said walking closer to you.
“I love you. I have loved you without ever truly knowing how you look. I have loved you when you have kept so much from me. Why do you think telling me the whole of it will make me love you any less?” You asked the man before you.
Aegon stood silently contemplating your words he approached you on the as you stood slightly above him. He reached for your hands placing them on his mask as he looked at you as though you were his only light “take it off” he said.
Your hands trembled as you pulled off the white mask showing his face “handsome, such a handsome man” you said tearing up as you fingers grazed his pale cheeks.
You bent over placing a kiss on his lips, a gentle one and Aegon slipped his hand around your legs pulling you towards him as he pushed the two of you on the ground kissing you. He no longer held your eyes shut or blind folded you. He let himself trust.
He pressed intense kisses to your lips as he his hands slipped off your dress “you wore the dress I gifted you, you little vixen” he smirked
“did you wear it for me? You knew who I was, didn’t you? My dear” he said pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin of your neck.
“I’ve wanted this for so long” you admitted holding his face lovingly “my phantom”.
“How long, my dear? Tell me?”
He asked as he pulled off the top of your gown leaving little red marks across your neck and over your heaving chest.
“For so long”
you said breathlessly as he continued to move his hand over your exposed top half squeezing your tits in his hand making you let out a sharp gasp.
He grabs onto your leg wrapping it around his waist as he let you feel his hardened length against your heated core. Your hips rolled over grinding begging for friction but he held your hips
“Fuck” he groaned holding onto your hips steadying your movements. He pressed you against the staircase where his fingers quickly found its way to your entrance. “So wet already?” He smirked as his index and middle finger circled smeared the wetness around your entrance
“I can’t— don’t tease me” you begged and he complied quickly his fingers roughly making its way in your tight cunt. You were a moaning mess under Aegon as his he spread his fingers inside the spongy walls of your cunt getting you prepared to take his cock. Your mind melting and the only words were ‘more’ ‘please’ and little ‘I need you’s. His thumb circled your clit as his tongue licked stripes on your breasts and hard nipples begging for his attention. His warm mouth finally engulfing a nipple as his fingers moved at an unpredictable pace. Moving faster as you were just about to cum and then abruptly stopping. And again building up your orgasm just to pull away at last minute.
“Please please” you begged in tears. The only tears of yours he ever liked
“What my dear?” He asked releasing your swollen breasts from his mouth with a sinful wet sound.
“Let me come please” you whined as your eyes rolled back once more almost coming at the pressure his fingers thrusted into you with. “Right there” you writhed holding his hand tightly so he wouldn’t pull his fingers out last second.
“You only had to ask” he smiles smugly his pupils wide blown with lust. He was playing with you. His thumb rubbed tight circles to your poor little numb and you came. Hard. Panting as you tried to regain your breath you had lost in your intense orgasm. You knew you Aegon wasn’t done. The both of you wanted more.
“Now look what you’ve done” he tutted looking at the wet mess you made all over his breaches and over your inner thighs.
“Don’t tease me any longer. Please” you begged your feet tugging at his pants as you eyed him with eyes clouded with lust. He adjusted your legs around him. Pulling down his breaches revealing his thick and hard length. The tip already leaking with pearly white pre cum. He pushed up your gown further up spreading your legs apart to look at your slick mess of your cunt as he stroked himself his fist closing over his hardened cock. “Fuck. I do not think I can wait any longer” he said letting out a moan.
“Then don’t” you moaned at the sight of him fisting himself. You pulled him to you as he grabbed your backside tilting your hips just for him. “Are you sure you can take me, my dear?” He teased before you could even say something snarky in response he thrusted his entire length into your tiny hole. You let out a shrill cry as you held onto him for dear life. His eyes never left your face. His lips found themselves kissing your body as he thrusted slowly letting you get used to his thick length. He pulled out leaving in just the tip before slamming the whole of it inside. He pulled a leg of yours over his shoulder as he pressed himself farther inside you making you see stars. The black cells filled with the both of yours filthy moans.
Your hands pulled at his hair as your rolled your hips to better accommodate him. He panted as he kissed you. His tongue roughly pushing into your mouth as he explored every crevice of your mouth as though it was his first time.
“You are so beautiful” he said in a half groan. His face scrunched up with pleasure. “You’re mine now. Only mine” he said as he thrusted into you. His hands travelled to your waist. “Ser—” you begged feeling hun hit that one spot so deliciously.
“Aegon. Call me Aegon, my dear” he said in a frantic hurry as he kissed you with an urgent need. Your mouth fell open as you came once more your legs giving out as your legs trembled around Aegon. He wasn’t done. He rubbed at your clit once more “one more give me one more” he begged.
“I— I can’t” you said clearly overstimulated.
“Come on sweet girl” he pleaded “come with me” he begged as he let out a raspy moan. “I know you can” his pleading voice could make you come once more by itself. His cock thrusting in and out of you and his thumb pressing your sensitive bud. It was too much. Aegon’s tongue pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck as he said the filthiest of lines. Aegon’s thrusts grew faster as his grip on your waist increased as he fucked you senseless. You swore you came right there, your fluids gushing out of you as you screamed Aegon’s name.
He cursed as he came at the sound of your voice calling out his name. His muscles tensing as he spilled his hot seed in your cunt.
He let out a shaky breath as he lay on top of you. Smothering you with his weight.
He panted pulling himself out of you resting his head onto your chest as your hands found themselves playing with his hair. Seconds of peace and silence between the two of you.
“I’ve been a fool. A fool for not telling you how I felt earlier. A fool for saying the things that I have said to you” he said holding the hand that caressed his hair.
“I should have done things differently. I should have come clean” he said pulling himself away. You didn’t let him pulling him back to you. “I am sorry. I am so sorry” he said. “I was so scared of— I don’t know”
“We are just both two fools in love” she laughed
“Fools hopelessly in love?” He asked smiling his laugh lines showing. His eyes crinkled with nothing but love for you.
“I’m afraid so” you smiled holding his hands.
“Marry me, let’s run away together to essos. Let us be free from this blasted place” he said
“No more running Aegon, if I must be with you I want to be yours truly. Running away isn’t the solution” you said your fingers trailing the corners of his lips.
“Then will you marry me here? Be my princess. My dear princess ?” He chuckled, the nick name ‘my dear’ he had given to her the nights following the one he met you on.
“Your family would never allow for it—” you said
“Will you marry me?” He asked again
“You are a prince and I am a mere singer” you said explaining
“Will you marry me?” He asked firmly his mind unchanging
“You aren’t going to change your mind are you?” You asked “there will be consequences”
“I don’t care. Will you marry me?” he said holding your hands “don’t leave me waiting tell me. Tell me. My dear” he begged nuzzling his nose to your cheek.
“There is something I would like to say— do you dislike my singing? And my appearance?” You remembered what Aemond had told you a few weeks ago. “Is it true?” You needed to know the truth.
But on looking at his confused face you knew that Aemond had lied. “Who insulted your singing? And you?” He asked “I need a name, my dear” he said
“Aemond told me that you hated my singing—” Aegon’s mouth dropped low in shock. His brother’s audacity to spread false words about him to his love?
“What? I’m going to kill that imbecile—” he fumed as he frowned thinking of his trouble maker of a brother. Aemond was just as much of trouble as Aegon. He just hid it better. You chuckled.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You interrupted Aegon’s rant, his mind still focused on punching his brother square in the face at breakfast. He looked to you his anger softening “yes you were about to say you would marry me” he smirked softly. The clear love and teasing showed in his eyes.
“Yes, I was. I would be the happiest bride in all of Westeros to marry you Aegon!” You pressed a kiss to his lips as the two of you smiled giddily. How could a proposal in the black cells be better than one in a garden? The power Aegon held over your heart.
Aegon married you with the consent of his family under the eyes of the seven, Alicent almost instantly welcomed you to the family she had grown quite fond of you from how you treated the children. She just had this feeling that Aegon would be happy. And that’s all she ever wanted for her son.
#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen#Aegon ii targaryen imagine#Aegon ii targaryen imagines#aegon targaryen ii fanfiction#aegon targaryen ii x reader fluff#aegon targaryen fanfic#Aegon ii x fem oc#Aegon ii x oc#hotd#house of the dragon x oc#aegon targaryen x reader#Aegon Targaryen x y/n#Aegon ii targaryen x oc#Aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen#house of the dragon x reader#aegon targaryen x reader smut#house of the dragon smut#aegon ii fic#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii#aegon ii x you#asoiaf
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
ALL MUST CHOOSE
( my hotd ocs addition )
ZHU MEI LIN
SO : Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.
She was the God-Empress of Yi Ti.
Her duties lay with securing her own people's safety; she would never send them off to fight the Dragon's war.
History had been filled with tales of betrayal, and Mei Lin had studied them all. Among them was the tale of the Amethyst Empress and how she had been killed by her younger brother, the Bloodstone Emperor.
The Blood Betrayal.
She could not sit by and let happen to the woman she loved.
Mei Lin would stop the dying of dragons before it ever began.
DAPHNE TYRELL
SO: Alicent Hightower, Gwayne Hightower, Criston Cole
Rhaenyra had been her dearest friend once.
Until she chose to fuck Daemon Targaryen, and lie about it.
The man who openly named her "the Whore of Highgarden"
Alicent was Daphne's only comfort. Her good-sister, her light.
Gwayne was Daphne's husband. The brave knight who'd stood by her side, defending her when no one else had.
Ser Criston was Daphne's friend, a man of honor who had nearly taken his life, had it not been for Daphne and Alicent finding him moments before.
She would stand beside them, no matter the cost.
SHIERA LANNISTER
SO: Aemond targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Cregan Stark
CHOOSE!? SHIERA HAD NO CHOICE!!!
Her choices had been made long before her birth, by her father, uncle, and all those who bore the name Lannister.
She was innocent, and yet the blacks had come for her.
A SON FOR A SON!? WAS THAT REALLY FAIR!?
Her son, her sweet Aurion, whose soul was as beautiful and untainted as a white rose, who would cling to her whenever he'd wake from a nightmare, did he really deserve to die!? No, he was good and pure, and still they killed him.
WHAT OF HER DAUGHTERS!? WOULD DAEMON, AND HIS WHORE COME FOR THEM NEXT!?
No, Shiera would not let her darling Vaela and sweet Raella meet a similar fate to their brother.
They would live. She would make sure of it.
The Blacks would rue the day they hurt a lioness and her cubs.
idk what I did but yea let's pretend it's cool lol.
OG GIF CREDITS: @commiebeatle @ladynamie
#oc : zhu mei lin#oc : daphne tyrell#oc : shiera lannister#house of the dragon#asoiaf ocs#asoiaf#fyeahhotdocs#asoiaf oc#oc appreciation#aemond targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#rhaenyra targaryen x oc#alicent hightower x oc#criston cole x oc#gwayne hightower x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#cregan stark x oc#fyeahasoiafocs#my ocs
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Prologue: Made of Fire and Water
Series Summary: As the firstborn child to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra, most believed that Elaena would succeed King Viserys’ chosen heir. But after her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named in her stead, the rumours amidst the royal court began to grow regarding her mother’s integrity. Years later, the whispers would not leave, and Elaena would find herself placed in a strategic match with Prince Aegon to placate her mother’s enemies. Little did she know, she had already become a pawn for the political game, and she would become the hidden advantage for the Greens.
Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Elaena Velaryon (OC)
Series Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI !!)
Series Warnings: arranged marriage, canon divergence, smut, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, canon-typical incest, death, obsessive behaviour, dubious consent, graphic violence, sexual harassment, enemies to lovers
Credits: Divider from here.
A/N: This series begins at Episode 6. For narrative purposes, I've aged up some of the characters. This work is also Team Green positive. If you don't like it, keep scrolling.
[Index] | [AO3]
Elaena
The summer breeze swept past Elaena, and the warm sunlight kissed her copper skin. Her father’s dragon released a long roar while he carried both of them through the clouds, and she clung to Laenor.
Seasmoke began his descent towards Blackwater Bay after Laenor gently patted his scales, and the familiar sight of the Red Keep became larger as they neared King’s Landing.
The dragon levelled out just above the water, and her father gripped the handles of the saddle.
Elaena let her gaze settle on the ships leaving the harbour, sailing to gods know where. The sight was still just as breathtaking as it was when she was but a young girl, still hoping that her own egg would hatch. But it never did.
He leaned forward, and the young princess grinned while Seasmoke began to ascend above the city as they flew over the docks.
She always admired the great structure of the Dragonpit from this altitude. However, their flight would be over soon. It was time to return to her responsibilities, and to tend to her mother. Rhaenyra was due to give birth any day now, and her smile widened as her mind wandered to the prospect of finally having a younger sister.
She wondered whether her supposed sister would have silvery hair and violet eyes like her own. Though she was nearly seventeen years of age, she couldn’t contain her excitement of introducing her sister to dolls when the time came. There were still many that she kept over the years that rested on display upon a shelf - some had been gifts that her paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, had bestowed to her before leaving Driftmark when she was only eight. Others had been from King Viserys himself.
The deafening flap of Seasmoke’s wings had pulled her from her thoughts as he circled the Dragonpit before he landed just outside the tunnel where the handlers were waiting.
“Dohaerās, Seasmoke!” One of them commanded.
He growled, and Elaena gently patted his grey scales.
“Umbās,” Laenor said firmly. “Rybās.”
Seasmoke snarled lightly as the young princess chuckled, and her father unlinked the chain around their waists.
“You did well, darling,” he chuckled softly. “Soon enough you’ll be riding alone on your own dragon.”
“But there aren’t any unclaimed dragons here, Father,” she frowned as Laenor helped her out of the saddle.
“There’s plenty at Dragonstone, love,” Laenor smiled and gently poked her nose, making her chuckle. “We can venture there after your new sibling arrives.”
“Do you promise?”
“Of course, love.”
She glanced to her left to see the carriage waiting for them, and her gentle smile dissolved when she met Aegon’s violet gaze.
“My sweet niece,” he called with a wide grin as Sunfyre was being guided out of the Dragonpit.
Elaena resisted the urge to scowl as she dismounted her father’s dragon.
She despised her uncle, and rather than physically tormenting her as he once had when they were children, he made a point of attempting to provoke her at every turn with his ridiculous innuendos. How he was nearly a man grown, yet still acted like a child at times was beyond her.
“Prince Aegon,” she reluctantly greeted, and Laenor offered the same courtesy.
Her father pressed his lips together and avoided his good brother’s gaze as he encouraged her to pet Seasmoke, gently moving her hand across the beast’s neck. The dragon snarled softly in contentment when her palm moved against his scales.
“Why don’t you return to the Red Keep while I fetch an egg for your new sibling,” Laenor suggested. “I’m sure your mother will want your company.”
“All right,” she nodded, and Laenor gently kissed her forehead before she turned to walk towards the carriage.
“Welcome back, Princess,” Ser Steffon greeted. He was sitting astride his white stallion and offered her a gentle smile.
“You look relieved, Ser Steffon,” she laughed.
He chuckled with her. “I am relieved,” he pointed out. “Your unspoiled return just saved my head from a spike.”
She turned to face him, now walking backwards. “If I met my death with my father astride Seasmoke, then I died the death of a dragon rider,” she outstretched her hands dramatically before she mockingly bowed. “It’d be an honour.”
“Aye,” he shook his head as Laenor chuckled. “The Lord Commander warned me you’d be just like your mother in her youth - and your aunt at that.”
Elaena couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and she turned back with a wide grin. She didn’t notice that Aegon had moved closer, and she nearly collided with him as she released a sharp gasp.
“Fuck,” she huffed, stepping back.
“There are other ways to tame a dragon, sweet niece,” Aegon bent at the waist to whisper in her ear. “If you still yearn for one. Come to my chambers tonight, and I might show you how.”
Her stomach turned. She gave him a contemptuous look as she moved past him towards the carriage, and Aegon chuckled.
“May the gods shrivel his cock,” she muttered under her breath.
The sound of his voice was irritating, and his presence was almost unbearable as she resisted the urge to shiver with disgust.
“Good morrow, Elaena,” Helaena greeted from the carriage with a gentle smile, and her expression softened.
Elaena smiled widely as she approached her aunt while she took off her glove with her teeth.
“Your mother has given birth,” the Targaryen princess said.
“Already?” She asked, voice muffled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“A boy,” Helaena nodded.
Elaena sighed with disappointment and looked down as she removed her other glove.
“What… auspicious news,” she forced a smile and peered back at Seasmoke as the dragon slithered back into the depths of the Dragonpit alongside her father.
The sunlight reflected from the dragon’s grey scales in an iridescent haze, and Elaena turned back after she caught Aegon leering at her again, sitting astride Sunfyre.
She released a disgusted sigh, rolling her eyes before Helaena outstretched her hand towards her to invite her within the confines of the carriage.
“I do hope your flight with Ser Laenor was a pleasant one,” she tilted her head.
“It was,” Elaena smiled softly as she grasped her hand and climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. “I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not riding today. It’s been a while since Dreamfyre was let out.”
“She just laid a clutch of eggs,” Helaena beamed as the two settled together. “I heard that Lord Stark is coming to court from Winterfell. And his eldest sons.”
“Odd,” Elaena furrowed her brows. “The Starks haven’t been to the capital since my first name day.”
“They’re coming for Aegon’s tourney,” she elaborated, and gently squeezed her hand after her niece scoffed. “And perhaps a betrothal.”
Elaena deadpanned as she resisted the unpleasant shiver that threatened.
She had grown up on stories of the suspicious and superstitious ways of the Northerners - the stories of the Kings of Winter. A brutal lot, they were, and she dare not assume that the passing centuries had softened their hearts or their grim ways after her forebears had united the realm. Even if it weren’t true, she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days in the grey waste of their homeland.
“Gods, I hope not,” she muttered, and a giggle bubbled from Helaena.
The carriage ride back to Maegor’s Holdfast was tedious and Elaena gazed through the wicker covering while Helaena had fallen asleep.
She watched as she passed through the capital, and placed her hand over her mouth and nose, unaccustomed to the stench as they passed through Flea Bottom.
Elaena began to wonder what life would have been like had she been born a commoner rather than a princess. To be a simple peasant, someone who did not need to constantly question why her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named her mother’s heir, and not her.
She was the eldest of the Velaryon siblings, after all, and the unsettling thought plagued her mind for years. Was it really because she was a woman? Or was it simply to honour Westerosi tradition? But she was painfully aware that her grandsire had already broken that tradition with her mother.
Her father once told her that it was because Rhaenyra didn’t want to burden Elaena with the responsibility of ruling when the time came. But she knew in her heart it was something… deeper.
She possessed the typical traits of House Velaryon: silver-white curls, copper skin and violet eyes. Her younger brothers, however, did not inherit the same traits. But of course, that was yet another matter that was meant to be left unspoken.
When the two finally arrived at the Red Keep, Elaena walked with her aunt through the castle in comfortable silence until they parted ways to tend to their own devices.
She made haste to her bedchamber to change out of her riding attire. Having settled on a fine cerulean gown, she sighed softly when she gazed into the looking glass while her handmaiden, Rinna, quietly fussed over the mess of her wind-tousled curls.
“Are you sure you do not wish to style it in the tradition of your house, Princess?” the woman asked. “It would be more manageable.”
“I like my hair just the way it is, thank you,” Elaena rolled her eyes playfully while she anxiously smoothed out the lingering wrinkles of the skirt of her gown with her hands.
“A braid then?” Rinna raised a brow, “Perhaps over your shoulder?”
“Sure.”
“You must be eager to meet your new brother, no?” she smiled.
“Positively,” Elaena said flatly and examined her fingernails. “I was just hoping that I’d have a sister.”
“Perhaps some day, my princess.”
It didn’t take long for the woman to finish the fishtail, and she tied a leather strap on the ends of her hair to hold it in place.
“There,” Rinna said and pushed the braid over her shoulder before Elaena could reach upwards to do it herself.
“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly.
“Now go. If you delay any longer, your mother will send the guards to come find you,” the handmaiden gave her a pointed look as she stood.
“Do I look like I’ve been out riding?” Elaena asked as she moved towards her door.
“No, but you do smell like you’ve been out.”
“Seven Hells,” she muttered as she glanced around.
There was no time to mask the distinct scent with rosemary oil, and Elaena huffed before she made haste out of her room. She walked quickly throughout the Red Keep, mindlessly greeting every other lord that gently bowed their heads until she rounded the corner towards the next stairwell.
Quiet curses escaped her when she lifted her skirts to skip the steps. She could never understand why King Maegor had left his descendants with a ridiculously enormous castle - that in itself was inherently cruel - but she sighed with relief when she finally approached her mother’s doors and knocked quietly on them.
“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice resonated, her tone welcoming.
Elaena opened the door and slowly poked her head inside with a sheepish smile.
“Hello, Mother… Apologies for my tardiness, I was—”
Oh.
She wasn’t expecting Ser Harwin to be standing beside her mother, and he offered a kind smile as he handed the newborn babe to Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra smiled. “Come in, sit with me a while.”
“I, uh… Of course,” she nodded, letting the door close behind her.
“Princess,” Harwin greeted with a nod.
“Ser Harwin,” she raised her eyes out of courtesy as she sat on the plush sofa beside her mother. Then her eyes drifted back down towards her brother.
Elaena resisted the urge to frown, and she tilted her head. The boy looked like her other brothers.
“Where is your father?” Rhaenyra furrowed her brows.
“He’s at the Dragonpit. He said he wanted to choose an egg for the babe.” she shrugged.
“You stink of dragon,” her mother pointed out, disapprovingly. “You went riding with him, didn’t you?”
“I– yes,” Elaena looked away with guilt for a moment before she raised her index finger. “But, I’ve already finished my lessons for the day, and Father wanted to take me riding for practise.”
“You’ll claim a dragon sooner than you think,” Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “But I do hope you’ve learned something today, Elaena. The Septa has informed me that you still struggle with paying attention.”
She scoffed and pressed her lips together. “If she didn’t speak so slowly, perhaps I’d be more inclined,” she rolled her eyes. “I learn far more from Grandfather than I do from her.”
Ser Harwin smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped him.
“It is still important to focus - even if you find yourself on the edge of tedium.” Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look, and Elaena sighed softly, nodding.
“I’ll try.”
“Well, Elaena, I want you to meet your new brother, Joffrey.”
Joffrey? she thought as she pressed her lips together. That isn’t a Valyrian name.
“Do you want to hold him?” her mother tilted her head.
Elaena met her gaze and nodded before reaching to gently pull the babe from her grasp as she stood. Elaena cradled the boy in her arms just as she was taught to with Lucerys.
The babe’s eyes roamed around the grandeur room before he sneezed and the little sound made her giggle.
“He is very charming, Mother.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “He is the smallest one out of all of you. And incidentally… you were the largest - and my worst labour.”
Elaena hummed and shifted slowly, keeping her violet eyes on him before she looked at the downy brown hair that thinly covered his head.
Her brows furrowed, and she discreetly looked up at Ser Harwin who had been watching her sway Joffrey. There were quite a few similarities between them. Between all of them, she finally realised.
It began to make sense why he always seemed to be in their company, and Elaena drew in a breath as she processed the knowledge.
And here I thought he was just being kind.
“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin said, and Elaena cast a sidelong glance in his direction that he didn’t seem to notice.
Her mother emitted a soft hum in response before the knight walked out of the room. Elaena watched him intently before the door closed again, and she cleared her throat.
“Do you need anything, Mother? Water, perhaps?” She asked as she looked at Rhaenyra.
The woman shook her head. “No, I’m quite content right now, my darling. Thank you.”
Elaena slowly sat back down beside her, being careful not to wake the now sleeping infant, continuing to sway him.
“When I was your age, I couldn’t bear the thought of having children. But everything changed after you were born.” Rhaenyra offered a soft smile, and Elaena returned it.
The simple acknowledgement quelled most of her doubts, but some still lingered as she looked at Joffrey again.
“Mother, what are your plans for my future?”
“What do you mean, darling?” Rhaenyra tilted her head as she shifted on the sofa.
“I mean…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m almost seventeen. The queen said I should be betrothed by now, and Helaena informed me that the Starks might be coming to the capital for one. I-I don’t want to leave home only to be locked away at Winterfell.”
Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, and she paused in thought as she reached to tuck a loose curl behind Elaena’s ear.
“My sweet girl,” she leaned closer to her daughter and cupped her cheek. “You descend from the greatest dynasty that has ever been established. You have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and you are the granddaughter of the greatest voyager. I’m sure that your future husband wouldn’t dare.”
Elaena drew in a breath and leaned against the backrest of the sofa.
“But, the Starks are our allies,” she said. “And from what I understand, Cregan Stark will be the Warden of the North when the time comes. Regardless of who you wed, you must do your duty to the realm. But for now, you needn’t worry about such things until your red flower blooms.”
Duty. The word settled bitterly in her mind. Lying on her back to later squeeze out an heir for some lord in exchange for a stale oath didn’t seem to be that favourable of a prospect.
The young princess nodded as she masked her disappointment with a polite smile before she gently handed her brother back to her mother.
Gods willing, I’ll just turn up barren, she thought with contempt.
#series: reign of fire#hotd fic#my fics#elaena velaryon#aegon ii targaryen x velaryon!oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#pro team green#it's a bit of a slow start but it'll pick up I promise#there's going to be a lot of Aegon in the next chapter and he has me in stitches
20 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cosmic-ricky
Cosmic_Ricky
symical
sym
haaningenemark30
The Life of Craig 319
tycon-the-icon
tycon
skyryes
Death From Above