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flowerandblood · 7 months

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The Evening Star (1/2)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, kidnaping, sexual tension, obsession, incest, toxic relation ]

[ description: When the god of the underworld comes out of his caves once a year to admire his beloved constellation, he accidentally meets his niece, whom he has never seen before. Moved by sudden lust and desire, he kidnaps her, despite her despair and his brother's anger. Angst, sexual tension, dark and obsessive Aemond. ] Part 2: The Moonlight Ray

The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray Persephone Moodboard

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

My others works: Masterlist

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He never understood his brother, hurling his lightning bolts from the heavens at defenceless people in a rage − he did not understand his volatility, he did not understand his irrepressible desire, his unlimited emotionality.

He did not understand how he could desire and feel so many things at once, having his sister-wife haunt and take other goddesses, nymphs, or even human women, begetting bastards on earth and in the heavens.

He did not understand him, for he was emptiness, abyss, coldness, the opposite of his impulsiveness, his eternal volatility − he was like stone, like white marble, soul as well as body.

The only desire he had ever known in his life was the desire for power, and for this his brother deprived him of one eye before casting him into a dark abyss where not even the light of the stars could reach.

Although he was a god, his brother's blow could not be undone and he was forever disfigured, the dark hole in his face filled with a precious stone, sapphire, shining with a disturbing blue light.

Accustomed to the darkness of Hades, he could no longer bear the intense light of the sun and rarely appeared on Olympus itself; he would wander through his dark caverns in his long, black matted robe and gaze at the river Styx, at its pale light and the contorted terrified faces of the souls who swam in it.

When word reached him that his brother had mated with their other sister, the goddess of the field crops, and that she had bore him a daughter, he was neither surprised nor interested − he did not come to celebrate her birth on Olympus or congratulate his brother.

His brother had often suggested to him that he should take a wife, that he should not be alone in the darkness of the underworld.

He, however, felt no such need.

Even his sister, known as the Goddess of Love and Desire, was unable to seduce him.

She touched his naked body with her soft lips and hands, but he felt nothing but embarrassment.

He left Hades only once a year, when his favourite constellation emerged in the sky − He would then stroll through the old, dense forest looking up at the stars, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the rustle of the leaves.

When this time of year came, when he left his caves and looked up, he felt contentment at the sight of the twinkling dots in the sky, the pleasant night breeze enveloping his cold body.

He strolled slowly and aimlessly, looking upwards, all around him only the quiet rustling of his robes and the sound of dew-wet grass lingering beneath his feet.

He froze as he heard someone's footsteps break a twig not far from him, he knew he was not alone and he was furious.

He thought that whoever this mortal was, he would flow right down his river of the dead.

He tilted his head to the side and saw a pale figure illuminated only by shy starlight, her body pressed against the trunk of a tree as if she wanted to take refuge in it, her face expressing helpless anxiety.

Her eyes were big, warm and as dark as his robe, her hair long, partly loose, partly decorated with rich braids encircling her head, small blue flowers woven into her hair.

Her full, moist, fleshy lips were parted slightly in an accelerated breath, her breasts which he could see perfectly through the thin, transparent material of her robe were rising and falling restlessly, her skin glistening like moonlight.

He stared at her, unable to move or make a sound, unsure if he had ever seen a being so infinitely beautiful in his life, luminous as the stars above his head.

He swallowed loudly when he saw that she had taken a step back to retreat, to escape.

"Is it the beautiful Evening Star herself who has left the sky to enchant me with her company?" He asked lowly, impassively, his voice though assured and direct trembled, betraying his desperation.

She stopped in mid-motion and looked at him again, surprised and embarrassed at the same time by his words − it seemed to him that he saw perfectly well how her cheeks flushed, giving her skin a rose tint.

She pressed her lips together watching him carefully, lifting her chin slightly as if probing him closely from afar, assessing whether he was a threat to her, whether he would hurt her.

He was unable to take his eyes off her.

"I will tell you who I am only if you tell me who you are." She whispered in a trembling, gentle tone.

A smirk appeared on his face at the thought that maybe she was a nymph who had ventured too far from her friends, and that she was at his mercy now.

He hummed under his breath and moved ahead, putting his hands behind his back, looking under his feet, moving unhurriedly towards her.

"They call me many names." He said with mischievous amusement, throwing her a piercing, disturbing look from which she shuddered all over, taking a step back again.

"My river, though water is a life-giving gift, brings death." He whispered once he was a few steps away from her, wanting her to solve the riddle herself, to exert herself.

She swallowed loudly, her eyes widening suddenly, as if she had just realised something.

"− uncle −" She whispered, and he froze, stopping in mid-step; for the first time in the thousands of years he had walked the world he felt his own heart pounding hard.

He looked at her in disbelief, and it was only at close that he saw that she did indeed have something of his brother and sister in her, though it was her she resembled more − he felt himself grow even paler than usual, his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

She, however, seemed not frightened about who he was, her face took on an expression full of contentment and warmth. She moved closer to him and now it was he who took a step back feeling a strange heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood throbbed suddenly as he caught a glimpse of the outline of her soft breasts.

"My mother told me a lot about you. About the sun hurting your eye." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly seeing that she was staring at his scar, at the stone placed where his eye once was.

He thought he was like Hephaestus, hideous, disfigured, and that she would never desire him.

He felt his jaw clench tightly, his body tense, hard as granite when she tentatively placed her soft hand on his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of his robe.

He didn't know what was happening to his body, he felt tickling and tension in his lower abdomen, a strenuous need for some kind of relief that he didn't understand.

"Stay with me to watch the sunrise. Don't sink into darkness yet." She whispered as if in worry − he couldn't tear his eyes from her face, from her warm gaze.

He was unable to comprehend how any living being could be so beautiful.

"No." He said coldly, and then grasped her in his arms, his hands clenching on her soft, hot flesh like steel tongs.

For a moment she couldn't make a sound, terrified and shocked − she didn't scream when he threw her over his shoulder and headed towards his underworld, cold, dark, damp.

It was only when she realised what he was doing that she began to struggle and cry, calling loudly for help from her mother and father, begging him not to do it, to let her go, that she would not tell anyone about it.

He, however, decided to follow his brother's advice and take a wife.

The marriage required the oaths from both of them, but this did not prevent him from acknowledging her as his wife even though she refused to speak the words.

Even though he had given her his most beautiful chamber, on whose ceiling precious minerals shimmered like stars, in which streams of water hummed, in which she could lie on a great, soft bed, she did not want to see him.

He was not his brother.

He had no intention of taking her against her will.

It was enough for him that he could look at her every day.

Only him.

He bestowed new gifts on her every day, but she still cried.

He gave her a beautiful long gown of dark, translucent material embroidered with stones in which the warm light of the sun was encased after she said she longed to see it, but she didn't even look at it.

The blue flowers in her hair withered as did the warmth in her eyes − she was slowly becoming as pale as he was and was constantly shivering from the cold.

She would not let him embrace or touch her; she covered herself with the thick furs he had given her and turned away from him.

Occasionally something would awaken in her − she would then run up to him when he visited her and beg him to let her leave to see her mother.

"I promise you that I will come back and that I will be your wife. Please, let me see the sunshine and the fresh grass one last time." She begged, touching tenderly his cold cheek with her fingers, almost as if she loved him, and he almost gave in to her every time.

"I can't, Persephone." He replied coolly, feeling some kind of pain seeing the despair on her face, hearing her helpless sobbs again, her small hands clenched on his robe, her cheek hugged to his chest.

"My name is Kora." She mumbled with difficulty, as if enraged. He hummed at her words, lifting slowly his large, cold hand, taking unruly strands of her hair from her face, all red from crying.

"Persephone, this name, is my gift to you. For my sweet wife." He whispered, and she trembled, struggling to breathe, shaking all over.

"− please −" She babbled as he embraced her uncertainly and stroked her hair, relishing its soft texture, letting her draw on this substitute of comfort.

He walked with her through the interiors of Hades, wanting to show her that besides death, there was also beauty in the underworld − underground streams and lakes with crystal clear water, his three-headed, beloved Cerberus, who in his presence turned from a monstrous beast into a gentle, docile animal.

Sometimes it seemed to him that a smile adorned her face for a moment, but then the sadness came over her again − she shuddered with cold and fear hearing the wailing of souls floating in the Styx, she glanced nervously in that direction, swallowing loudly.

"Are they suffering a lot? Can they be helped?" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, walking beside her with his arms folded behind his back.

"They are paying for what they have done in their lifetime. Their merits and transgressions have been weighed by Temida, who has issued a judgment on them. There is nothing I can do." He admitted with a glance at her, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her at last, and she lifted her large, frightened eyes to him, her lips parted but no sound came from her throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling a sting in his chest.

He asked her if she was afraid of him after he had kidnapped her and held her against her will.

What did he expect?

The wrath of his brother and sister was quickly getting to him − her mother distraught at her disappearance had fallen into a state of utter agony, people were being starved to death by the land's failure to yield crops, there were more souls flowing in the Styx than he had ever seen in his centuries-long life.

He felt a kind of satisfaction when his brother descended into the underworld for the first time since time immemorial; he hated to think about dying and passing, and could not grasp the meaning of such a short life, knowing only the meaning of infinity himself.

He came out to meet him sitting proudly on his black marble throne, thousands of skulls at his feet.

For the first time he looked down on his brother, a gigantic cave all around them, Styx surrounding them on all sides except a small bridge.

"Brother. I warn you for the last time. If you don't give me my daughter..."

"Then what? I should take a wife at last – those are your words, aren't they?" He asked with a sneer, sitting stretched out comfortably in his seat.

"I want to see her." He demanded, and his lips tightened at his words. "Or I'll take her away from you myself and you'll never see her again."

"I poured water from my river into the honey she drank. Like any soul who has already bound herself to the underworld, she will not leave Hades without my permission." He said calmly, and his brother's face flushed red, his angry low voice echoing around him so that the ground shook around them.

"I WANT TO SEE HER!"

He hummed under his breath and nodded to his servant to bring her in.

His wife came out of her chamber a moment later − when she saw her father she immediately beamed, ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

He looked at them coolly, feeling his heart pounding fast, his stomach twisting with rage.

"My sweet daughter. Did he hurt you?" He asked as if the welfare of any woman mattered to him, as if he hadn't raped an endless number of innocent girls, forgetting them quickly because they were dying in what seemed to him to be just the blink of an eye.

He swallowed loudly when his Persephone shook her head, tightening her lips, lowering her head.

"He's good to me." She whispered and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain he had never known before.

His brother looked at him accusingly, trying to contain his aggressive, abrupt nature.

"People are suffering hunger because of you. Her mother has gone mad with despair, the flowers are not blooming, the grains are not yielding. Let them be together at least a few months of the year and I will recognise your marriage in the eyes of Olympus." He suggested, and he furrowed his brow.

"No." He hissed coldly, his gaze icy, piercing, furious, his hand clenched into a fist. "She is my wife. A wife's place is with her husband."

His brother moved in fury, wanting to lash out at him, the ground shook around them again, but his daughter's hand stopped him.

"Let us speak alone, father." She said softly; his brother backed away, panting heavily, his jaw clenched tight.

He hummed under his breath when he saw his wife move towards him, climbing the black, cold stone steps to finally stand before him − his brother snorted and turned, walking away, furious.

He looked up at his Persephone massaging his chin, delighted to see the outline of her body shapes beneath her thin white robe.

He shuddered and swallowed loudly, shocked as she sat on his lap, his manhood throbbed suddenly feeling her body so close, her fresh scent like a cool morning breeze.

"− husband −" She whispered with a soft click of her pink tongue, her hips innocently rubbing against his hardness, his body shivered at the sound of that word.

She had never called him that before.

She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips so gently, tenderly, slow strokes of her hips teasing him so innocently, that he parted his lips, breathing with increasing difficulty, his palms tightening on his cold stone armrests.

He could feel his length pulsing and swelling with every motion she made, he didn't understand what was happening to him.

He didn't stop her when she reached up to tie of his matte black robe, he drew in a loud breath and closed his eyelids when her delicate hand tentatively touched what was underneath.

"I am yours. I will give myself to you of my own free will." She whispered in a sweet, warm, trembling voice, her gaze misty, her lips full, swollen, red from emotion.

A quiet, low groan broke from his throat as he felt her hand direct the fat head of his manhood between her thighs with a gentle movement, he could see through the translucent material as she slowly began to sink him into her body.

He tilted his head back with quiet moan, licking his lower lip, feeling her hot, fleshy insides squeeze him wonderfully from all sides − she was surprisingly moist and warm, her core throbbing with arousal.

He felt her put her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto him with a loud, sweet gasp, her plump lips parted wide.

His hands involuntarily gripped her hips as she began to move, rising and falling against his length so painfully slowly that he had to close his eyelids shut, panting louder and louder along with her.

"– gods –" He exhaled with difficulty as she accelerated, the loud, sticky slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the dark cavern, his manhood throbbing and twitching inside her, all hard and swollen with pleasure.

Involuntarily, his cold fingers clenched on the hot skin of her hips − he rooted his manhood into her tight, moist insides with his desperate, pathetic thrusts, her sticky moisture dripping down her thighs.

"– for our marriage to be valid you must fill me with yourself, my husband –" She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, droplets of sweat glistening on her body like little diamonds, her sweet moans of pleasure, her slick walls sucking him inside made him loose his temper.

He gasped weakly at her words, he had never felt a woman's insides before, had never desired anyone before her.

He felt like his manhood was going to explode with desire and lust, his thrusts became faster and more brutal, her soft breasts bouncing in front of his face − he lifted his hand and squeezed it tentatively, a soft mewl of delight erupted from her throat.

"– Persephone –" He breathed out pleadingly, imploringly, and then she kissed him, her hot, swollen, moist lips clinging to his, cold, dead, the tips of their tongues licking each other.

"– please –" She mewled although he didn't know what she was actually asking him, and then he heard her cry loudly, as if surprised, her hot insides clenching against him greedily, her tongue deep in his throat.

He felt with each thrust of his hips that he was getting closer and closer to something he'd never experienced before in his life.

Fulfilment.

The wave of heat and pleasure, his seed that spilled inside her surprised him so much that his voice stuck in his throat, and then again and again a low, helpless groan broke from his mouth − both of them were panting as they looked at each other with their lips open wide, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hips.

"I'm yours." She whispered softly, sweetly − he was looking at her feeling only peace, only love. "I am only yours, so please, let me see her."

He felt the heat in his heart replaced by coldness, his brow furrowed in a sense of anger, of pain, of betrayal.

"No." He hissed, wanting to lift her up, but she shook her head, cupping his face in her warm, soft hands.

"I will never truly be your wife if you won't trust me. If I don't come back to you of my own free will." She said helplessly, pain, fear and suffering in her eyes again, his lips tightened into a thin line at her words.

"Nine months with my mother so I can enjoy the sun, and then three here, just with you, every night, every day, I swear." She whispered tenderly pressing her face against his cheek, her scent overpowering and stupefying him, her warm insides still pleasantly enveloping his already soft manhood.

He swallowed loudly at her words, his palms digging firmly into the soft skin of her thighs.

"You're lying. You will never come back to me." He hissed and groaned low when he felt her hips begin to move up and down again with a loud click of her wetness and his spend, his manhood pulsed involuntarily with pleasure, betraying him.

"I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."

As much as she wanted him to lead her away, he didn't want to watch her disappear beyond the borders of Hades never to return.

He didn't want to watch her run merrily towards the light, thanking the gods for his weakness and naivety, for how every woman in history had been able to exploit a man's desires.

He did not want her to see his expression, his suffering and all the other feelings he did not want to feel.

The day after she left, he went to her chamber and lay in her bedding, sinking his nose into her scent.

He found, with regret and pain, that with each passing month her scent grew fainter and fainter, her silhouette in his mind becoming more and more blurred, as if he had never really met her.

He touched himself thinking about her, experiencing both wonderful and painful fulfilment with the knowledge that he would never feel her again.

He preferred to explain to himself that it was just a dream.

That he had never met her.

He knew she would not return.

She would not return to her captor, to the man who had kept her in a dark underworld for months, deaf to her pleas and sobs, a man who was crippled, who was cold, frightening and empty.

Despite this, despite knowing it, when the day came he could think of nothing else − he watched as the sand shifted in the great hourglass constructed of bone and glass as he lay in his chamber, drinking wine, feeling like a demented madman, listening for her footsteps amidst the groans of the dead.

She did not come.

He stared at the empty hourglass, which turned and the sand began to shift again, counting down the time of the new day; he wondered how he could have been so naïve to wait.

For the first time in ages he felt an embarrassing, burning wetness under his eyelids − proof that he really loved her.

He shuddered when he heard the quiet rustling of robes − he glanced sideways and saw her standing in the doorway of his dark chamber, in her hair beautiful small yellow flowers, her face bright and warm.

She wore the gown he had given her, black, decorated with sun rays stones.

"My mother kept me. She couldn't let me go." She whispered, and he felt his throat tighten, his body freeze, unable to make a sound or make any movement.

He breathed hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his lower lip and hands trembling involuntarily as she approached him slowly, as her hands untied the bindings of his robe with a light, easy motion, revealing what was underneath, how much he wanted her, how much he waited for her.

"I have been counting down the days when I will see your face again." She whispered, running her fingers over his scarred cheek, sitting on top of him, gently taking his hard length in her palm, lowering herself onto the fat head of his cock as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wanted to tell her that he didn't believe her, but instead a surprised, throaty groan of pleasure burst from his mouth − he tilted his head back, panting loudly, his hips involuntarily beginning to root his manhood into her fleshy, moist insides, her hands clenched on his shoulders.

"– fuck –" He gasped out looking at her with his lips parted, synchronising his thrusts with the rhythm of her body − he swallowed loudly as she slid the material of her robe off her shoulders, exposing her soft, plump breasts to him.

"– touch me, husband –" She cooed, and he lifted himself, immediately pressed his lips to her breast, sucking on it greedily, licking and teasing her nipple with his tongue, all hard with desire.

She sank her fingers into his long white hair and pressed his face against her chest, rising and falling on top of him with a loud click of her moisture, moaning so sweetly and loudly that he felt like his manhood was about to explode.

"– were you touching yourself? – did you touch yourself when you weren't with your husband? –" He hissed out in a trembling voice between flicks of his tongue, she kissed his hair in an attempt to soften his question and her answer.

"– forgive me, husband – forgive me, I've missed you so terribly –" She mumbled helplessly as he ran his fingers down her hips, twisting with her so that she fell on her back.

He gripped her thighs in his hands, looking down at her − her face all red with exertion, her hair scattered in disarray around her head, her body all bare before him, hot, beautiful, his.

"– I think I should remind you to who this body belongs to –" He growled, ending his sentence with a deep, brutal thrust, a loud, surprised moan escaping from her throat.

"– you are mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– repeat –"

"– I – I'm yours – I'm yours, forgive me, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty and drew in the air loudly as he spread her thighs shamelessly in front of him, looking down at the place where their bodies joined, her entrance clenching against him steadily, leaking with her wetness.

"– I forgive you, sweet wife –" He gasped, recognising this act of grace as an expression of his love and gratitude that she had not betrayed him, that she had returned, that he held her in his arms again.

"– I'll fill you with my seed and it'll be just as it should be –" He exhaled as he watched the perverse sight of their bodies slamming against each other with a loud slaps, his thrusts deep and sure, each time opening her wide on his thick, swollen cock.

He couldn't believe that she had come back to him, that he could smell her wonderful, floral scent again, that she was allowing him to possess her of her own free will.

Her fingers grasped his hand and sank it between her thighs − he felt her direct him to the small bud between her soft folds, she moaned when he touched her there.

"– here, husband – please –" She mewled and moaned loudly, throwing her head back as he began to rub her there, simultaneously caressing her inside and out, her core beginning to pulse greedily against him.

"– gods – stop clenching –" He exhaled with difficulty, rooting into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her fleshy walls apart with the sticky click of her moisture.

He felt that if he went on like this he would simply come inside her, when he wanted to torment her, to prolong the moment of this immense pleasure and encounter after so many months.

"– I can't – I can't –" She sobbed loudly and he saw her fulfilment in all its glory, her hot, soft flesh went through convulsions, greedily sucking him inside, her lips parted wide in pleasure, her gaze misty and warm.

He cursed loudly, coming inside her so painfully hard that he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, rooting into her for a moment longer, the relief and delight that surged through his body was indescribable.

He looked at her beautiful face, her hands on either side of her head, her expression nothing but fulfilment and peace, her breathing uneven and ragged, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.

She looked up at him after a moment and smiled sleepily, raising her hand slowly − her soft fingertips ran over his scarred cheek and he closed his eyes, feeling pleasant, hot squeeze in his heart.

"What is my wife's name?" He asked in a whisper, kissing her warm, small hand, smelling of fresh grass and flowers. He heard her sigh sweetly at his question, her fingers sliding lower, running over his cold lips.

"Persephone."

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Aemond Taglist

@dc-marvel-girl96 @its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @verena-targaryen-writes @talesofoldandnew @happinessinthebeing @travelingmypassion

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bananadrinkxxx · 8 months

Text

THE BLOOD CROWN

MASTERLIST

[Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction ]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

[warnings: smut, sex content, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

Content for adults. 18+

Summary

"𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹."

Queen Alicent had spoken the truth when these words had left her mouth, the moment the King decided not to punish Princess Rhaenyra's son for taking the eye of her child. In the night, in the safe place of her chambers, she gave the order to have Lucery's Velaryon taken and sold into slavery. But a regrettable misunderstanding causes Larys Strong's men to take, not the culprit, but Aemma Velaryon, Rhaenyra's youngest child, and banish her to a life of suffering and loneliness.

Aemma Velaryon had not been seen since then but the gods do not forget and sometimes fate strikes back harder than you would have expected.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 16 Part 2

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 21 Part 2

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 25 Part 2

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29 Part 1

Part 29 Part 2

Taglist:

Write me for being add to this taglist :)

I differentiate by stories. (click here)

If you want to read it on wattpad, here the link:

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗜 AEMOND TARGARYEN - bananadrink - Wattpad

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corporalicent · 1 year

Text

¿cómo me pudo hacer esto?

aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

resumen: la princesa Visenya Targaryen se entera lo que ocurrió en el Bastión de Tormentas entre su hermano, Lucerys Velaryon, y su esposo, Aemond Targaryen.

a/n: Hace mucho que no escribía un fic, así que lo siento si está mal escrito o no se entiende mucho. Estaba viendo la serie de la sultana Kosem (Está en youtube) y me inspiré en una escena entre ella y su hijo el sultán Osmán. Espero que les guste.

ao3 link

El sonido de los sirvientes corriendo por la piedra fue suficiente para que sintiera que algo malo estaba pasando, aunque el sentimiento se había instaurado desde el momento que su esposo voló hacia el Bastión de Tormentas para obtener el apoyo de Lord Borros Baratheon en el reconocimiento de su hermano, Aegon II, en el trono.

Su postura en toda esta situación era conocidos por todos en el castillo, su madre Rhaenyra era la heredera legal al trono y cualquiera que se sentara en él que no fuera ella, era un traidor en sus ojos. Pero, al estar casada con su tío Aemond, guardar las apariencias en estos momentos era crucial para sobrevivir.

Después de tanto ruido afuera de sus aposentos, hubo un silencio que le asustó más que el propio ruido.

Tocaron a su puerta débilmente que pareciese que no querían que se la persona dentro escuchara que habían tocado.

“Adelante” dice esperando que el susto que sentia en ese momento sea solo un mal pensamiento.

Una sirvienta entra con la cara mirando el piso, “Princesa Visenya, tenemos noticias desde Bastión de Tormentas. Malas noticias”. En ese momento, el mundo de la princesa se vino a bajo. No quería saber que había pasado, no quería conocer las malas noticias.

“¿Qué sucedió?” La voz de la princesa con suerte salió para realizar esa pregunta. Se imaginaba todos los escenarios posibles, pero nada la preparó para lo que realmente había sucedido.

Al parecer, su hermano pequeño, Lucerys, también había ido a Bastión de Tormentas para pedir el apoyo de Lord Borros. El conflicto que existe entre su esposo y su hermano es conocido por todos, desde la broma del cerdo hasta que él fue la razón por la que Aemond no tenía un ojo, en resumen, no se podían ver ni en pintura (o por lo menos, su esposo no podía ver a su hermano).

Los detalles de lo sucedido todavía no se sabía, claro, solo ellos dos sabían que había pasado. Pero lo importante era que su querido hermano con su dragón estaban muertos y el responsable te había jurado lealtad y amor eterno ante los dioses.

Dejó que la sirvienta se fuera, no sabía como iba reaccionar y no quería que hubiera otra desgracia conectada con ese matrimonio. “¿Cómo pudo hacer esto? ¿Qué le diré? ¿Cómo me pudo hacer esto?” Se preguntaba la princesa mientras recorria todo el cuarto mientras se tomaba el vestido, la cara, el pelo, de todo lo que tenía encima de ella para encontrar un poco de paz con la noticia.

Su regreso se hizo notar, como no, si era jinete del dragón más grande del reino. Pero esa no era la única razón por la cuales todos murrmuraban al pasar por su lado.

Sospechaba lo que susurraban, sabía que las malas noticias viajaban más rápido que las buenas. Pero esperaba que su esposa no haya escuchado nada antes de que él pueda hablar con ella para aclarar la situación.

Entra al cuarto sin aviso alguno, prefería empezar él la conversación. “Visenya, hay algo que quiero hablar contigo” Dijo mientras cerraba la puerta, sin hacer contacto visual con la princesa, aunque ella estaba clavada a la ventana.

“Esposa, hubo un-” Estaba empezando a explicar la situación cuando la estatua que estaba en la ventana empezó a hablar. “Ya no me considero más tu esposa” Su voz se sentía tan firme como una roca. “Tú ya no eres mi esposo”

No se podría decir que la cara de Aemond estaba expresando sorpresa, sabía lo que había hecho también sabía que su esposa sabía lo que había hecho. “Seguiremos casados de la puerta de la habitación hacía fuera, pero dentro de estas cuatro paredes no somos nada. Caminarás solo por el camino que escogiste”

En ese momento, Visenya se da vuelta con los ojos rojos llenos de lágrimas y sed de venganza. ¿Cómo era posible que alguien en el estado que ella estaba, podía hablar tan calmada? “Pero te advierto, si le llegas a tocar mis otros hermanos, si llegas a hacerles lo mismo que le hiciste a Lucerys, te quitaré la vida con mis propias manos”.

No le dió tiempo de reaccionar ni mucho menos de responder a tal monologo que dió la princesa, esta salió lo más rápido que pudo de esa situación.

#aemond targeryan x oc #la casa del dragon #house of the dragon #spanish fanfic #aemond targeryan #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targeryen angst #corporalicent fics

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saltywritings · 2 years

Text

(in the still of the night | aemond targaryen x strong! reader)

summary: the reader and aemond reconnect at the red keep after years of being apart. it is here the both of you reconnect with the reemerging memories of when the both of you were young. memories in italics.

warnings: mentions of death and murder, betrothal, sexual tension but no smut, yet. cursing?

word count: 3,835 words.

authors note: i do hope you enjoy reading this as much as i have had writing it. please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you do enjoy. if this does well i will make a second part that will be absolutely filthy.

it was odd to you. the memories that flooded to you so clearly as you walked down the halls of the castle. eyes catching the stained glass windows of dragons, carefully moving up the stone steps as you did as a child. you remembered all the times you tripped down them, bruising your knees chasing after the young prince's. you remembered of how you ran down the halls hiding from them. you remembered sneaking out at night to the kitchens and eating cakes in the gardens under the light of the moon with aemond until your eldest brother dragged you back to your chambers.

yet, it was now as you remembered how close you and aemond had been as children. your eyes catching the garden from within the castle walls.

"y/n! y/n, wait up." aemond's voice rang in your head. nothing more than just a whisper as the two of your crept through the halls. aemond in his sleep shirt and you in your nightgown. if the two of you had not been children the situation would have been frowned upon, heavily. for you more than him considering your status as a lady.

you bare feet slowed as you looked behind you. waiting for an out of breath aemond to catch up. the targaryen prince had been holding a napkin, the cloth tied shut, and his fist holding the knot tightly. aemond took your hand in his own once he reached you, pulling you with him now through the halls and into the gardens. your feet ran against the soft grass and under the godswood. you sat beside the prince, as your little fingers fumbled with the tight knot. aemond helped you untie it and slid himself closer to you. the both of you side by side and your little fingers were pinching at the lemon cake.

"i stole this at dinner," aemond informed you as he shoved some of the cake in his mouth.

"did anyone see you?" you questioned softly, filling your own mouth as you did.

"just aegon-" aemond stopped himself. the boy remembered of how aegon called him a pig for taking more. though, he knew not of the nights that he shared with you, and aemond simply told his older brother to fuck off. "but he doesn't know." aemond assured you.

"good, your brother likes to make the worst of everything. doesn't he?" you remarked rather casually- but aemond had stopped eating. your dark eyes looking up now with regret in your own words. you had known how his brother and his nephews would torment him. aemond told you, here in the gardens, when the both of you were alone. "aemond-" your voice soft, your hand going to meet his again to comfort him.

what little comfort you felt you could offer. you hadn't known it now, but it was the only comfort aemond had ever known.

"it would be different if i too had a dragon." aemond defended himself, his eyes saddened and he looked down to his lap.

"dragons aren't everything, aemond. i don't have a dragon and i'm-" you were trying to comfort him, but the boy was quick to snap again.

"you wouldn't understand y/n- you're just a strong." aemond snapped at you. you closed your mouth and looked away, aemond quickly realizing his mistake in snapping at you and his hands grabbed at yours again. "no, no, y/n. i'm sorry. i didn't mean it in that way" he pleaded with you. his voice near begging you to turn to look at him. his fingers placed at your jaw as you turned to meet his eyes. "i'm a targaryen. we're dragon riders; all of them are but me. and- and its not fair" aemond eventually crumbled. you recalled as tears had begun to run from his eyes. aemond fell into your arms and wept.

"i'm sorry, aemond. i am." you whispered in an attempt to comfort him. your arms wrapped around the crying boy and help him close, he would sniffle and eventually pulled himself together.

"i wish i could take you on dragon back with me. so that way you would understand." aemond pleaded.

"maybe one day you will," you smiled to him and aemond smiled back to you at the very thought.

the sweet moment between the two of you was short lived, as your eldest brother harwin came storming into the garden. you barely had a moment to scramble to your feet before he grabbed onto your arm.

"y/n, how many times have i told you not to be sneaking out with the prince after dark?" harwin questioned you. your face went pale as his dark eyes peered into your own. "keep this up and i'll tell father you need to go back home. to harrenhal." he threatened. you began to resist him, began to plead, but aemond would have none of this.

"ser harwin strong. you will let lady y/n go. your prince demands it." aemond's voice was weak but he knew what to say. harwin, however, looked to the boy debating on what to do. "unhand her or i will tell my mother what you've done here on this night" aemond threatened again.,

harwin let go of your arm in a bit of a gruff, "the king wants the both of you in bed. go on your way or i will tell father, y/n." he demanded. the two of you would run off to your own chambers. but it was far from the last time the both of you had snuck out.

you were only a babe when your father brought you with him to the red keep. his first daughter, the product of his third wife. lyonel strong the newly appointed hand of the king had hoped that the court of the red keep would raise his daughter well. that you would grow in the mannerisms of a lady. lyonel thought this was be good for you. but if he had known of what was to happen he would have never allowed your mother to carry you past the door.

it was there in the red keep that you were raised closely with the kings own children as well as the princess's sons. the seven of you were only children, but even then the tensions had grown. even though you were only a girl you could see it. though, the turmoil's of your life had made you long forget the ones held at the court of the red keep.

your eyes stared at the godswood, reminiscing when you hear someone summon you.

"lady tyrell, it has been too long since you've last visited the red keep." you heard a voice call from behind you, lady tyrell a name you never really adjusted too. behind you was the sight of the queen.

"you grace," you bowed before her, queen alicent. "that it has been," you smiled to her softly.

"you're not with your husband?" she questioned you, her own hands brought together.

"no. lord tyrell is resting from the journey. he does not do well in far travels. even in the carriage." you insisted, giving her a smile to which alicent nodded in understanding.

"well, i do hope you get the chance to properly visit with aemond while you're here. i recall the two of you were good friends all those years ago." alicent spoke very matter of fact, but the mention of aemond was enough to make you smile.

"yes. i recall the same," you hummed. "where is the prince? i do hope our paths may cross before I retire with my husband." you questioned alicent who could not resist the smile that fell on her pale lips.

"aemond? he's off with vhagar, of course." alicent was practically musing.

you never got the privilege to see aemond on a dragon. you heard word at high garden when prince aemond lost his eyes. when he claimed vhagar as his dragon. there had never been a smile on your face like the one you had that day. though, you wished the letter would have been from aemond. for reasons that seemed obvious now aemond never wrote to you and you were never allowed to write to him.

perhaps it had been more obvious to everyone, but the both of you that the two of you were smitten over each other at a young age. perhaps it was the fact you were children, or perhaps it was that each of you lacked the confidence, but neither of you were able to see it yourself. aegon would constantly berate aemond every time he looked longingly in your direction. "can't you be more obvious? looking at y/n like she's a dragon. like looking at things you'll never have?" aegon would taunt constantly. he would get close to you. his hands wrapping around yours as you played just to bother his brother.

but you had never seen it. now, you could look back on your time together and the feeling in your chest grew warm. though the feeling was quickly snuffed out by the reminder of your station. a married woman. your husband was many years your successor and the two of you were yet to conceive a child after all these years together. your marriage to him felt like torture as the years passed on. he was never specifically cruel or vile towards you, not in the way that you heard stories of men hitting their wives or calling them names. but there had been no love in your marriage and you knew that you never would come to love him. for when you looked into his eyes all you could feel was loss. perhaps things could have been different had your father not betrothed you so young.

even that night as you laid next to your sleeping husband under the canopy you were unable to find sleep. you had hoped the journey would be enough to make you rest and yet? your eyes continued to look at the black silk of the canopy curtains. you stood from the bed, pulling on a robe to cover your nightgown, and quietly left the bedroom chambers. you walked along the torches through the halls you would sneak around when you were a child. there was an uneasiness about walking amongst the castle this late. part of you worried that harwin would be around the corner ready to scream at you to go back to your chambers. another part of you feared your own father may come to question why you were out of bed. though, you reminded yourself that was not possible. if anyone were to come for you here it would be larys. your last brother. the one who summoned you and your husband to the red keep in the first place.

it was a cruel thought to think. but you often thought of what your life would have become if your father would have died after your betrothal. if larys would have allowed you to stay there, with him at the red keep. it was a bitter thought. wishing he had been dead sooner, and yet? you thought it often. you didn't want to. in fact you tried not to think of nothing at all. your feet reached the open gardens and you paid no mind to the bitter air that attacked your exposed skin. you tried to look at the godswood, at the flowers in the moon light. anything to not think about your father or harwin. however, at the red keep again the thoughts felt impossible to keep away. you could not begin but to remember of how you cried the day that you found out your father had betrothed you after lord tyrell's first wife had passed. you went crying from the room after begging him and pleading with him to change his mind. to reconsider. but your father had made his decision. he promised you that one day you would thank him for the position he arranged for you. a chuckled slipped your lips, wondering if the time to be thankful would ever come.

"still sneaking away from your chambers at night?" the voice mused on. it was familiar and you could not help the smile that flooded to your lips as your turned around to see behind. before you stood aemond targaryen. taller than you remembered, leaner, his hair long and a patch covering his eye. he had been dressed in black, from head to toe. aemond did not look as you remembered him to look. though you were sure you did not look as he had remembered you either. still, the both of you smiled to one another.

"aemond-" you cheered gleefully. you were quick to rush into his arms. it was not proper of either of you. both knowing anyone could see, that neither of you respected the formalities. that the two of you now stood in the gardens as you did when you were children. his arms wrapped tightly around the frame of your body and your face nuzzled into his chest. you would hold one another for longer than two friends should before creating distance again. you looked up at aemond's face and his eye had been on you and only you. "you've grown-" you remarked, the smile not fading from your lips.

"as have you, y/n" aemond spoke. he reached out, carefully. taking your hand in his own and beginning to pull you along with him gently. "come on, y/n. there's something i want to show you." aemond instructed you. there was a small part of you that knew you shouldn't go with him. that you were a married lady in her night clothes with nothing but a robe to keep your modesty. though you followed aemond, without a second thought. despite what you knew you did not hesitate as aemond led you through the castle and you blindly followed him through the red keep. down the castle stairs and outside beyond the castle walls.

"should we be here, aemond?" you questioned following him blindly into the dark.

"if i told you we weren't would you turn back?" aemond did not as much as look to you he only continued walking.

"never" you confessed.

"then, no. we shouldn't. but i've been waiting years to show you vhagar" aemond continued to lead you through the field but it was easy to see her. the sight of her was near frightening to you. involuntarily your body moved closer to aemond's, the sight of her was frightening, but aemond could not help but to smile as he watched you cower. "it's okay. she won't hurt you when you're with me. i swear it." he reassured you as he approached vhagar.

your eyes took in the dragon before you and aemond was quick to move to the netting that hung from her side. one of his hands gripping onto it as he once again pulled you close to him. "you trust me, don't do you?" aemond questioned his hand bringing yours to the rope.

"yes," you confessed near breathless. it was now that aemond helped you up the dragon's side. him behind you, arms wrapped around grabbing onto the net, as he helped you climb her. when finally up, one of his hands gently held your waist get onto the saddle. aemond quickly pulled himself behind you. both of his hands pulling you from behind in a way that your back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your torso as he grabbed the reigns of the dragon. this was the moment that aemond has always wanted to show you, and as vhagar took off he could not contain the smile that made his way to his face as he watched your first ride on a dragon. aemond would take you flying on vhagar, the wind in your hair as you screamed with joy. your robe no longer tied as aemond kept his arms wrapped around you tightly. where aemond took you was unrecognizable to you now. some distant place from kingslanding; perhaps you knew it when you were a child but you had known it no longer now. aemond was quiet at the two of you sat on the ground. his arms were still wrapped around yours and his eye had been looking to you.

"i have missed you, here. y/n . . . " aemond confessed as your eyes looked up to meet his. a soft smile glowing on your lips.

"as i have missed you, my prince" you cooed to him softly, sitting up so that the two of you could be face to face. there was a silence that followed. a feeling that did not go away and it strained your chest and weakened your legs. you felt it when he looked at you the way he did now. aemond's hand cradled your face, pulling you close to him by your jaw, and without asking he pressed his lips onto yours. you kissed him back, your soft subtle lips that fought against his own. his hand grabbing onto the neckline of your nightgown as he begun to pull at it, exposing the skin of your shoulder. the sudden feeling of your duty flooding you through the mess of passionate kisses the two of you were ingulfed in.

"wait, wait- aemond we shouldn't do this." you attempted to stop what was unfolding before you. aemond kissed you again, and once again you kissed him back. your eyes closed before pulling yourself from his lips again. a nearly impossible task. "no, aemond. i'm married. i have a husband-" you pleaded.

the very mention of your husband was enough to make his blood boil. his face went cold for a moment as aemond remembered when he had found out about your betrothal. you were only given a day to pack your belongings and leave for high garden.

aemond remembered how your father had pulled his sobbing daughter away from the prince. he too had been in tears at the announcement. it was the last time he had seen you. being dragged by your father as you sobbed. the image of you in tears stuck in his mind as the years passed. you hadn't known this; your father never told you, and aemond never got the chance to, but the moment your father dragged you away aemond went running in tears to his mother. the youngest born prince burst into her room and ran to her. alicent's arms opened immediately and frantically.

"what is it? what happened, aemond? tell me-" alicent went frantic. she had never seen aemond so upset before and she worried that someone had been hurt.

"he betrothed her- y/n. lynoel strong. he betrothed her to the lord of high garden. he- he-" aemond was sobbing and alicent's arms were quick to wrap around her son. she had known what everyone around the castle had known. if anything she was waiting for this day to come and she rubbed her sons back as he wept into her chest.

"oh, aemond." alicent sighed. the queen paused attempting to gather some kind of comfort for her youngest son. "there comes a time in every young girls life when she must be betrothed. to become a wife." alicent begun to give her speech but aemond begun to push her back his face now red and flushed with anger.

"mother. no- i'm not upset about her being betrothed. i just-" aemoond stopped himself for a second before finally letting it out. "she should have been betrothed to me! not some lord of high garden. a rose? we're dragons- why not me?" aemond was sobbing again. "is it because i'm not the first born son?" he questioned tears in his eyes again. "is it because i don't have a dragon?" aemond wept again.

"no no, aemond. that's not why, darling" alicent quickly tried to scoop up her son, but he pushed her away the moment she came in contact with him. "aemond, please- i know she is your friend-" alicent hardly got a chance to get her words out before aemond interrupted her again.

"she's not just my friend." aemond spoke up, feeling a need to make his message clear on how important this was to him. "she's the only person in this whole bloody castle who treats me like i'm not wrothless." aemond spat out through his own sobs. alicent looked with sympathetic eyes. unsure what she had the power to do and in turn, she caved.

"i will offer lord strong a marriage proposal for her hand in place of lord tyrell. do you understand?" alicent attempted to clean her son's face. aemond would nod finally accepting his mothers arms again.

alicent would make the proposal to lynoel strong. y/n strong and prince aemond targaryen, to be wed in a few years time. but your father denied it without consideration. he did not waiver. he did not even give her a reasonable doubt. instead, lynoel sent you away to high garden and you watched, weeping out of a carriage window unaware that aemond was even an option for you. aemond, however, had known that some day you would return to him. if it were by the hands of the gods or his own hand.

now you were in his arms and there had only been one problem. your husband. something aemond thought about long before you arrived. "y/n. your husbands dead-" aemond informed you, he did not waiver. not once as he spoke. a look of confusion consumed your features.

"aemond . . ." you trailed off in your own confusion. "what are you talking about?" you questioned him brows furrowed together.

"he's gone, y/n. dead. that fat fool was smothered in his bed." aemond informed you without mercy. without remorse. still you looked at him in confusion, horror- unsure on how to process what aemond was saying to you.

"aemond. did you- did you have my husband killed?" you asked bluntly. there had been no mannerism that could have asked what you were asking him now. what you had already known. aemond smiled.

"obviously. hadn't you wondered why larys requested that the both of you come to kings landing? come on, y/n. i know after all these years at high garden you haven't become daft. i never stopped thinking about you." aemond confessed, his hand returned to your jaw and gently pulled you in closer to him. eye to eye, nose to nose. "even the largest dragon in the world could not fill the hole that you left behind." he confessed, his breath hot on your face.

"say you'll marry me. we'll set things right. say you'll marry me and be my wife. marry me and carry my heirs. say it, y/n." aemond was practically pleading with you. but the pleading had not been necessary. aemond had you wrapped around his finger.

"i'll marry you-"

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 9 months

Note

Queen, may I ask for stepdaughter reader BUT she runs to aemond when she’s pregnant and they tell their mothers it’s aemond child so they both get married instantly ? Imagine daemon all smug he had her then he returns to the keep to find her married and his child claimed as the guy who stole her away.

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

summary: Stepdaughter runs to aemond when she’s pregnant and they tell their mothers it’s aemond child so they both get married instantly ? Imagine daemon all smug he had her then he returns to the keep to find her married and his child claimed as the guy who stole her away.

Word count: 1,9K

Warnings: Angst, mention of rape, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You did not know what to do, this was a disaster, you were in trouble. Daemon had left you the day after getting his way with you four hours on end, he left to solve some problem in the Reach- that was a moon ago and now you were going through your supposed moon's blood without bleeding.

Your maids were surely catching on and soon will be telling your mother. You had three choices running through your head, one was to tell your mother the truth where there was a possibility she would not believe you. Two was to try and terminate the pregnancy which terrified you. Three find a respectable man who will care for you and try and help you and there was only one man that came to mind, Aemond.

He has not spoken to you ever since Daemon found you two and beat him. He kept his distance but kept a watchful eye on you. You knew there was a possibility he would refuse to help you and even spread your secret but that was a risk you were willing to take. So with a raised head and bruised ego you made your way to his chambers. The guard let you in, eyes staring straight forward and hard.

"Aemond" Your voice came out weaker than you planned making you wince. You did not want to seem weak especially during your explanation. Aemond raised his head from the book he was reading and looked you over. His singular eye was glaring hard through you, as he always did to everyone else.

"Niece, what is it you want?" He slammed the book shut making you jump. He threw the book on the table by his side and stood up. Even with several feet between you two he looked taller and scary.

"I need your help" You whimpered. Your heart was in your throat. Your hands began shaking with nerves so you clasped them in a sweaty mess in front of you. Aemond raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you.

"What do you want? How dare you even come here? You left me beaten on the floor and did not even bother to visit me after" He hissed. His harsh words were like a dagger that popped the bubble that held you together and a sob slipped through your lips. Your head bowed down in shame, you knew that you should have visited him to at least explain but you could not. You felt ashamed, you felt dirty with Daemon's touch still making your skin crawl even after weeks, his seed still felt hot inside of you, it was all in your head you knew but still you felt so dirty.

"I am sorry- please I am sorry" You sobbed. Your raised your hands to cover your face. The tears running down your cheeks felt like lava leaving your face burning and red.

"Do not cower" Aemond grabbed your wrists and pulled them off your face. The second his skin touched yours it was like a snap and your whole body began shaking.

"Do not touch me!" Your screamed pulling away from him. Your stumbled back almost tripping over your skirt. Your clambered back until your back hit the wall. Your whole body was shivering uncontrollably at this point.

"Do not touch please- no more, no more touching" You were gasping for air but nothing was coming into your lungs. The mere feel of another man's touch reminded you of Daemon's touch.

The pain of him slapping your face and behind with his rings on and full of force. The pain of his cock pushing inside of your pure and never used before cunt that was dry. The pain of his hand circled around your throat to cut off your air way and screams for help. The smirk he had on his face as he redressed leaving you a sobbing and bruised mess on your bed was still imprinted in your head.

"Calm down, please calm down- shhhhh" Aemond raised his hands in surrender. He approached you slowly trying to show that he was no threat to you. Your eyes raised from the ground to look at him, his heart broke at the pain he saw behind the tears.

"What did he do to you?" Aemond asked. Furry made his blood boil. He wanted to reach over and hug you, hold you close and calm you down. He wanted to find Daemon and strangle him to death for what he did.

"He t-touched me. I d-did not w-want to" You sobbed. You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face between your knees.

"Touched you?" Aemond asked, he wanted a confirmation that he did not mishear. He wanted proof that his uncle was the monster he always knew him to be.

"He touched my flower" You whispered. Flower was a code you and Aemond used for private parts, Aemond and you were not mere innocent lovers, you did get dirty when writing letters to one another but it was mere words, now this was serious.

"Does anyone know?" Aemond asked. He wanted to mount Vaghar and find Daemon in whatever whole he hid in.

"No but they will" Your body slowly relaxed when you noticed that Aemond did not make a move to hurt you, when he did not start yelling at you, when he did not belittle you. His eye widened when you placed a hand over your stomach.

"Right- uh we will fix this" Aemond ran a hand through his ties hair undoing the tie. He paced back to the sitting area.

"Help me Aemond, please" You begged. You pushed yourself on shaking legs to stand back up. He watched you as you moved over to him slowly. Hands shaking and eyes watery, his heart broke at the sight. He promised to protect you and failed. He promised to keep you happy and failed.

"We will say it is mine and they will marry us" Aemond stood up from the chair. You nodded your head and looked down.

"I am sorry, you deserve a better wife, a pure wife who was not tainted by anyone else. You will be stuck with a dirty woman. I will be your slave in exchange-" Aemond raised his hand making you stop. Your eyes snapped up to look at his face, it was almost as red as a ruby and his one eye wide with anger.

"Never belittle yourself like this, you have no faults, sweet angel- may I?" he pointed at your hands. You took a deep breath and held them out to him. He was very gentle with his touch as he took your hands into his bigger ones. He raised them up slowly to not startle you and kissed your knuckles one after the other.

"You are perfect, you are all I want" He whispered. One of his hands slowly reached to touch your cheek. You flinched but did not pull away from him.

"I am sorry I was not there sweet angel" With that said you two went to your mother's chambers requesting to meet her and the queen.

Both women were horrified by the fake story of you two coupling and conceiving a child so by the end of the moon you and Aemond were married to one another. Aemond refused the bedding ceremony and did not touch you on that night or any other night after. He suggested sleeping on the ground but you refused and let him share your bed but with at least three pillows in between you, not even your feet touched.

By the end of your eighth moon of pregnancy things were calming down and the pillows were gone from your marriage bed, cuddles were almost a must at night jut no intercourse and Aemond seemed content. But of course the gods were cruel and Daemon returned. He had a smug look on his face as he walked into the throne room with Dark Sister strapped by his side.

Instinctively you stepped back into Aemond who wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you calm. Daemon kept his eyes on his brother bowing his head in respect.

"Daemon you have been missed" Viserys spoke first. Daemon raised his head smirking.

"I have missed you all as well my king" Daemon said smugly, his eyes trailed to your mother on the other side of the room. She smiled at him naively not knowing of the devil she was married to.

"You have missed your daughter's wedding brother" Your grandsire said. Daemon's head snapped up to look at the king before his eyes moved in search of you only to find you swollen with child and holding onto Aemond who was glaring at him.

"My nephew seemed to not waste anytime at all" Daemon hissed. His eyes trailed down to your stomach, too big to be a new pregnancy. Aemond did something he has never done before, his hand trailed down protectively to your belly.

Aemond was not cruel he never hurt you or the babe, he just decided not to acknowledge the fact much. He made sure all your cravings were met, he made sure you were taken care of as well. He held you carefully but never did he look at the belly or touch it even when cuddling in bed.

"Yes their wedding night was fruitful seven moons ago" Your grandsire said proudly. He looked at you with pride, you usually would have basked into it but not this time.

"I can see that" Daemon hissed. Your mother gasped shocked at his behaviour.

"You must be tired brother, how about you go rest and we will meet again later" Viserys attempted to defuse the tension that filled the room. Your family started filtering out one after the other leaving the room.

You and Aemond followed after Alicent who was whispering with Helaena about gods' know what. Your mother long gone after hearing that your brother Aegon had woken up screaming, probably hungry or something. A gasp tore through your throat when a hand wrapped around your arm pulling back harshly. Aemond turned around faster than you thought possible and pulled out his dagger. You turned to find Dameon holding your arm with Aemond's dagger under his chin.

"You think you can deceive the others? Well you cannot deceive me, I know this is my child" Daemon whispered, his eyes glaring down at you. Aemond pressed his dagger harder into Daemon's neck.

"Let go of my wife" Aemond hissed. Daemon's eyes snapped to look at Aemond with a smirk.

"Your used wife, nephew" Daemon smirked. Aemond's eyebrow ticked and before you could even blink Daemon was shoved off of you with Aemond holding up against the wall with the dagger now drawing blood from Daemon.

"Come near my wife and child again and I will personally cut your head off" Aemond did not wait for an answer before turning around to face you, he wrapped his arm around your and pulled you away from the hallway.

That same night your precious daughter came into the world screaming and crying. A skinny little baby feeding into the lie of her being born two moons too early. Her face scrunched in discomfort as she was pulled out of your womb into the world. You named her Jacaella in honour of your older brother Jace, Aemond frowned at the name but let it go for your sake. Your heart filled with even more love for him when the baby was placed into his arms, he swayed her from side to side successfully calming her down and putting her to sleep.

Aemond's taglist:@mihrimahsultan03, @fullmoonworshipper, @papichulo120627, @seulbeomie, @melaena-the-reborn, @k4marina, @fullmoonworshipper, @axelsagewrites

Daemon's taglist: @luanasrta, @papichulo120627, @seulbeomie, @melaena-the-reborn, @k4marina, @fullmoonworshipper, @axelsagewrites

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ilovemilfsthings · 7 months

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──── ✰࿒࿎྇ ༃࿐ ‘meet the character’

, , ,

ೃ࿐ ANGEL TARGARYEN prologue of her life

« laughing on the outside, crying on the inside »

… … … angst ; shit parenting ; i love angel sm

, , ,

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ANGEL was the youngest child of viserys & alicent. for almost all of pregnancy, viserys hoped that it would be another boy, all kings always wish for healthy sons that could eventually replace him after his death and become a good king. but unfortunately, alicent gave birth to a girl. it’s hard to have a good relationship with your father when he didn’t want you from the moment you were in your mother's womb, im right? anyway, the first years of angel’s childhood were okay, the alicent seemed to care about her, and viserys didn’t mind having her by his side almost all the time. but it all dramatically changed when she turned eight. then her father started to expect more and more from her, even the things that no eight-year-old could do, but he wanted all the best for angel, didn’t he?

then she started to grow up, and nothing changed, it only got worse. she cannot remember one day without fighting with them, mostly with her dad. it seems like he finds it entertaining to try angel’s limits, but she never shed a single tear in front of him, she didn’t want to give him satisfaction. the worst part of these days were moments when he acted like nothing happened; he didn’t care about her mental health. let’s be honest, in this world, it doesn’t matter.

but it wasn’t only viserys who slowly ruined his daughter. maybe alicent wasn’t like her husband, and she never screamed at angel, but she also let him humiliate her youngest daughter in front of everyone. she never checked on her, and when she ran to her chamber, she didn’t do anything. she would just close her eyes and sigh with sadness, but she wouldn’t tell her husband anything.

angel seems to hate her parents, but deep inside she was still a little girl who wanted her parents to love her, hug her and tell her that everything going to be okay.

, , ,

✧. ┊so this is kind of sad ‘prologue’ of angel’s history. i wanted to start it like this. you guys can give me ideas with who you wanted me to pair angel with, because i have not idea for this (firstly i thought about aegon, but idk) I would write series and just random imagines with her, and you also can request some ideas to plot etc. i would definitely needed your help. but i hope that you will like this oc (personally i love her, but you can have different opinions) i think that’s it, bye!

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targaryen-vigilante-wizard-jedi · 5 months

Text

WITH EYES LIKE MINE

House of the Dragon Female TargaryenReader Insert

Chapter warnings- Menstruation, more of a filler chapter.

Chapter 10 - Blood Is Spilt

_________

121AC

Y/N sat lonesome in the courtyard, her gaze directed towards her bandaged hands that were, underneath the fabric, littered in scratches and cuts - all self-inflicted.

She had developed her mother's habit of picking her fingers and worsened it, not purposely so. The girl hadn't even realised just how violent her skin picking had become in the last year until her brother, Aemond, had caught sight of her maimed and bloodied hands the night prior. Without notifying anyone else, he swiftly cleansed her wounds and bandaged her hands to help heal them and prevent her from doing it again.

Another body seated themselves beside her, and she gave a quick glance to see that Helaena had sat by her side.

Y/N offered her a sad but sincere smile knowing what was to happen tomorrow.

Helaena looked somewhat glum, her eyes trailing towards a millipede crawling through the soil.

"Perhaps it won't be so bad." Y/N offered quietly, despite knowing that what she had said was lies. Aegon had always taunted and teased Helaena for being different. He had even openly bashed his sister and rejected the idea of their marriage to his mother, earning himself a bruised cheek.

"Aegon does not like me." The older of the two girls retorted quietly, her voice rather nonchalant.

Y/N tutted and kicked her foot into some dirt beside the bench she sat on.

"I do not think Aegon likes anyone these days, sister." Came Y/N's rebuttal, but it provided Helaena with no comfort or satisfaction.

Aegon was never there, and when he was, he was never sober. It was a horrible thing to witness, her two siblings being forced into a marriage that would only prohibit any chance at happiness for either of them.

The eldest of the King's sons had spiralled out of control and slightly wavered from his mother's grasp, frequenting the street of silk nightly and never loosening his wine filled cups.

Their family customs were not something that Y/N had agreed with. Her mother had called it 'disgusting' and 'immoral', but now she was wedding her son to his twin sister. Y/N did not fail to see the hypocrisy.

"He likes you... as many do." Helaena's voice was quiet as she spoke, causing Y/N to cast her gaze towards her older sister. "I'm not so sure about that." the younger girl couldn't help but roll her eyes at Helaena's words.

Helaena was silent and still for a moment before her hand found Y/N's, gently squeezing it.

Y/N glanced towards their joined hands before looking at her sister's face.

The older girl's lower lip trembled slightly as though holding Y/N's hand was bringing her pain as well as comfort.

"I am glad it was me rather than you." Helaena kept her gaze towards the ground as she spoke, finding the words difficult to speak through the imagery in her head. She found herself unable to maintain eye contact with her sister; she feared what visions she would endure.

Y/N felt a breath catch in her throat at her sister's words. With a sudden inability to speak, she opted for squeezing Helena's hand, an unwanted guilt finding its way into her thoughts.

________

The wedding of Prince Aegon II and Princess Helaena Targaryen was a solemn occasion, rather than a joyous one.

Helaena sat silent, her head directed to the table as she murmured incoherently to herself.

Aegon had tried to take his leave early but was unfortunately caught by the hand of the King, promptly punished with a quick hand to the face before being led back to the banquet in honour of his wedding.

The fifteen year old boy sat, his eyes red and glazed over as the alcohol allowed him to wallow further in his own despair and helplessness.

Y/N and Aemond both sat silently through the ordeal, but the girl couldn't help the thoughts plaguing her mind.

Did mother intend to wed Aemond and I to one another?

She was more than sure that no such thing could take place since she wouldn't be able to continue their bloodline but she found that her gaze had wandered to Aemond only to find that his eye was already on her. She leaned back into her seat before allowing her eyes to survey the crowd feasting; men of all ages surrendered their eyes to her lilac-pink gaze, none hiding their lust for power.

Any one of them could be her future husband but none repulsed her as much as the thought of marrying her own blood.

Her mother had driven it into her head that it was a sin to the Old Gods and new, to commit such a crime as marrying your own kin.

Her mother had forced her eldest children to commit the very thing that disgusted and disturbed her.

Y/N's eyes then fell on Aegon's defeated and depressed face, a drunken giggle escaping his lips as he laughed at his own miserable fate, swirling the wine in his cup as though he were entranced by the ripples it caused.

Despite their interactions having decreased over the year, Y/N's concern for her eldest brother only continued to grow, especially when he'd begun to disappear into Flea Bottom for days on end.

Without asking for her mother or father's approval, she stood from the table, so many male gazes still focused on her every move.

Inhaling deeply, she turned her gaze to incredibly inebriated Aegon, whose gaze was still focused on the wine in his cup.

Just as he had done for her the year prior, she walked over to him, her steps slow and light so as not to draw too much attention to herself.

Her hand gently clasped his, her fingers touching the coolness of the cup in his clutch. "Aegon," her voice was quiet and polite, far different from what she used to be.

Aegon's glazed over eyes flickered towards her and he over-enthusiastically smiled at her. "It appears my favourite sibling has come to celebrate such a monumentous occasion with me." His other hand reached over and placed itself over her free one.

"Come, sit with me, my lovely sister. " He tried to pull her down to his level, uncaring of the absence of a seat next to him.

She kneeled so she was eye level with him and pulled her hand from his in order to place it over the cup he still held.

"I think you've had enough, brother." Aemond interjected from behind Y/N. His voice, a little deeper and sterner, than it had been a year ago.

Y/N briefly glanced at him, grateful that he had come to her aid.

Aegon slightly scoffed when he heard his brothers voice. "Of course you'd be skulking not too far behind her. You're worse than the knight."

He was, of course, referring to Ser Criston. It wasn't exactly the guards fault, though. He had been ordered by the Queen to keep an eye on Y/N and he'd never refuse an order from his Queen again, not after Driftmark.

"I pray your barrenness spares you this fate, sister. Especially with the likes of him." Aegon glared at Aemond before wrenching his hand from Y/N's and drinking from his cup.

Y/N stood a moment longer, her mind running circles around his words and the cold, uncaring nature of them.

Without so much as a word or glance to either one of her brothers, she retreated to her seat and sat silently.

Aemond lingered a moment longer, watching Aegon drink the rest of the liquid in his cup without a care in the world.

___________

123AC

"A girl and a boy, a difficult but worthy birth indeed," a voice came from within the room just as Y/N was allowed entrance.

Whimpers and cries filled the room. Some belonged to Helaena, who was still suffering the brutal aftermath of the birth. "You have done so well, Helaena." Alicent praised before grasping her eldest daughter's clammy hand and pressing a kiss to it.

The babes were held in the arms of two wet nurses, who had allowed the children to feed at their bosom.

As Y/N looked at the children, she didn't know what to feel, and as selfish as it was, she could only think about how she had been denied the opportunity to experience the joys and difficulties of motherhood.

Her body may have been spared the pain of the birthing bed, but her heart would forever have a hole. Without so much as a word to her mother or sister, she left the room.

Helaena's exhausted expression turned to one of slight confusion as she called her sister's name quietly.

_________

Quiet sobs and cries left the youngest daughter's lips as she thought of her future; perhaps husbandless, dragonless and childless.

The Gods had been cruel when they gifted her the name Targaryen. To have her suffer in such ways that her suffering would never cease.

The guard outside her door stood still listening to the Princess' cries as he often did.

Soon, she would sleep, and he, too, would sleep until he returned to his post in time to hear her wake with a scream.

Her dreams were different, still frightening but different. The man was still there every night, as were the sounds of dragons roaring, the smell of burnt lands, scorched flesh.

"The blood of Old Valyria is spilt." His voice bellowed, figure still masked by shadows. "The age of dragons will end with us and only us."

Y/N woke up, sweat trickling down her face. She had no time to focus on the clamminess of her face as she felt a horrible stickiness between her legs and under her buttocks.

"What?" She murmured softly to herself before removing the covering from over her body.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the frighteningly large and irregular patch of blood staining her sheets and legs.

"Princess, have you woken?" A voice came from behind the door and before she could react, two servants entered the room, in their hands were towels, an outfit, scrubbing salts and oils.

"The Queen has organised this outfit for you, Prin-" a loud gasp of horror left the first servant as her eyes landed on the bloody mess on the sheets.

The second servant, quickly and quietly left, in a hurry to inform the Queen.

Having seen the servant leave in such a hurry, Ser Criston took it upon himself to enter the room but as soon as he did he turned on his heel and exited.

The troubles of womanhood were something he wanted no part in.

The remaining servant made her way towards the visibly troubled princess and grasped her gently by the shoulders and away from the bed.

Her hands guided her toward the black armchair near the fireplace.

"It is alright, m'lady. It is only your first blood, you've grown into a woman."

At that sentence, Y/N shook her head, tears filling her eyes. "No, please. Do not tell my mother." She pleaded, eyes watering and body beginning to shake at the thought of being forced into an unwanted marriage.

Y/N already knew what it meant when a girl had her first blood; her body was ready to produce heirs but hers was not, never would be. So what was happening to her?

The Queen entered the room and immediately made her way over to her distraught daughter.

"Hush, my girl. You're almost a woman grown." Alicent's hand held her face before the other made its way to her forehead, seemingly checking for a temperature.

"Wet towel." She called to the two servants who scrambled to procure the requested item.

"My Queen." One of the girls spoke before handing the Queen the wet towel. The maids and servants had learned that the Queen had a more hands-on approach than most women of her status would (or should), especially after the events of Driftmark.

"Ssh, let us get you dressed, my sweet."

__________

It wasn't long after that the news of Y/N having her first blood reached the ears of everyone, including her father and siblings.

"My girl, soon to be a woman." Viserys praised, his smile was proud and his hand clutched his cane, the other stroked her cheek affectionately.

Y/N did not react to his touch, instead keeping her gaze to the floor. She could count the direct interactions her father had with her in the past year on one hand; their relationship strained far more than any other.

Aemond only continued to stare at her, his eyes taking notice of the changes in her face and her body. She had grown too.

He found his eye lingering on her far longer than it should have.

Aegon had heard the news but did not congratulate nor mention it to her. Instead, he raced off to the Street of Silk, as he so often did those days. Things had changed too much too quickly for him. He was a boy of sixteen and already had children that he never wanted.

"This is wonderful news, sire." At the new voice Y/N's eyes moved to look for the source of the voice and her lips turned down slightly at the sight of the Hand, Otto, stepping forward.

A phantom pain rose in her cheek and she unconsciously flinched; the memory of her grandsire's hand smacking her cheek in her mind.

Aemond was no fool, though he had never suffered at the hands of the King's Hand, he knew his older brother and youngest sister both had and it infuriated him to know such a fact.

Otto approached the King, his mind scheming once again.

"Perhaps it is time to consider the potential candidates for the young Princess' hand." Otto wore a smile on his face, a sickly sweet one; it was like that of a dog baring its teeth.

Viserys' eyes wandered over his youngest daughter, and he found himself reminiscing of his eldest daughter, of how he had allowed her freedom and failed in doing so with Helaena.

He nor anyone would deny that she had already gone through so much at such a young age and so he gave a curt shake of the head before speaking.

"We needn't rush these things, Otto." At her fathers words, Y/N gave him an appreciative nod, a slight smile on her lips.

"She still has some years to enjoy being a child, let us speak of this matter in the future."

Her fathers words drew a smile from her lips and she let her eyes rest on him.

The King released a heavy breath, her eyes having the same strong effect on him even then, that they had had from the day she was born.

In return, he too smiled at her.

[Not the best chapter. I have had severe writers block for so long so really struggled to finish this one so I know people will have lost interest. I think either next chapter or the one afterwards will be when further into the future. I was going to do it in this chapter but it felt like way too much of a jump.]

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mydemimonde · 8 months

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my tears ricochet — aemond targaryen x reader one-shot (sneak peak)

We gather here, we line up Weeping in a sunlit room, and If I’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too

The words that left Aemond’s mouth cut deep in your skin. Your heart was heavy, a huge sharp pain was pressing on your chest and you felt like vomiting. You were thankful you were sitting, otherwise your legs would have failed you.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, you could only hear his muffled voice, as if it was distant. The air grew thick with tension as Aemond’s words hung between you two, the Sun lighting the dark room.

“Alys and I…”

You have heard plenty of rumours about your husband and that woman in Harrenhal. You refused to believe them, you were sure your husband was an honourable man who loved you and respected you deeply. But apparently it was not like that.

All you could do was stare blankly at the fireplace, no emotion showing in your face, your hands together on your lap and some tears falling down on your cheeks, while he kneeled before you, explaining to you what happened, tears spilling from his eyes at the fact that he betrayed you. His dear wife.

“I swear to you, Y/N” he placed his hand on his chest, his voice broken and barely above a whisper “there is nothing else between us. I ended the matter”.

You stopped a bitter laugh from escaping your lips. Ended the matter? That was far from happening, you were sure of it. That morning, when he arrived with Cole and his men, a brunette lady in a green dress came as well.

Oh, yes. He even dared to bring her to the Keep.

According to Aemond, before he confessed his betrayal, that woman was an important asset to win the war for the Iron Throne against his half-sister and uncle. She could see things before they happened, she had visions and he needed her.

But to you, it was beyond that.

How could he betray you in that way and have the audacity to bring the woman he betrayed you with to your home? How could he do such a thing to you after everything you had to endure?

A/N: hi! i was listening to one of my favourite taylor's songs and this idea came up. i may post it in a few hours, but keep in mind that this will not have a happy ending!

if you'd like to be tagged, let me know!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targeryen x female reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond fanfiction #house targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen one shot

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tinfairies · 1 year

Note

How would dark Aemond/Daemon react if their wife secretly tried to get rid of their baby because they said that they didn't want kids before, also you're amazing !

Aemond is upset. He's upset that his wife didn't consult him first. He's upset that she assumed he'd be unhappy about the news. Of course he'd forgive her, and is more than willing to have babies with her.

Daemon understands, he's still mad. But he understands. He'd tell her how she's the only woman he wants children with. He would show her how much he means what he said that night.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagines #hotd headcanon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen #angst #reactions

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lyraoftheevergreens · 2 days

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MASTER LIST

House of the Dragon

(Coming soon)

Harry Potter

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thedreamsmith · 1 year

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Forged in Dragonfire (Part 7)

As always, feedback and comments are greatly appreciated. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Terror warred with revulsion; a scream that was not hers rang out as Lord Vaemond’s blood sprayed across the foot of the Iron Throne. Princess Helaena was clutching her hands over her ears, eyes rolling wildly as her mother pushed in front of her, a futile attempt to shield her from the horror that had already unfolded before them.

Aemond’s gaze was fixed unwavering upon his uncle, his expression unreadable as Prince Daemon made a glib remark, utterly at odds with the vile act he had just committed. His grip was iron on her waist, his body turned ever so slightly toward her and his sister.

The following minutes were a blur of raised voices and King Viserys announcing that he wanted his family to gather for dinner; Helaena’s panicked breathing and Aemond asking her to meet him in the royal quarters, to join them for supper. His words barely registered. There was blood splattered on the hem of her skirts.

How had she spent over a decade forging weapons without considering what they were used for? How had she trained with sword and dagger with Aemond without thinking what it would be like to use them on the flesh of another?

A steward guided her from the great hall, giving her instructions that she did not hear. The only sound in her ears was the terrible metal-song as Dark Sister had passed through the Lord of Driftmark’s skull.

In the chaos that followed, she slipped unnoticed from the Keep, down the dusk-lit streets of King’s Landing until she was surrounded by the familiarity of her family’s home at the base of Visenya’s Hill. The lamps were dimmed, nobody within but the servants, as she passed like a spectre through the familiar hallways.

She had enough presence of mind to change her dress, stuffing the blood-splattered gown to the back of her closet. The scent of brimstone drew a dry sob from her as she pulled the garment over her head, ripping the laces loosened by Aemond’s clever hands just hours before.

Then, dressed only in her shift, hardly feeling the chill on her bare skin, she settled in to wait for the dragon at the door.

Night had fallen fully by the time Aemond made his way to her. The hours following the blood-soaked audience before the Iron Throne had been endless, wearing grooves in the polished wood floor of her bedchamber as she paced.

His arrival was not preceded by a servant, testament to the late hour and the prince’s black mood.

Yet despite the wildness clinging to him like the ever-present scent of dragon-smoke, his voice was ragged, edged by what she would have called desperation in any other man.

‘Where were you?’ He stopped mere inches from her, but they may has well have been standing on opposite sides of the Narrow Sea. Nothing had felt farther from the way he had hauled her against him just hours before in the warm darkness of the Dragonpit. ‘I was going to announce our betrothal to my family. I waited for you. The Strong bastards had a good laugh at my expense.’

There was a treacherous edge to his words now, his eye flashing dangerously as it flickered over her face. The words waiting on her tongue were heavy in her mouth, as sour as rancid wine. There was no world in which she feared the man before her, not for her own safety. But she feared for what tragedy her words would wreak upon the soul he had bared to her; the raw wounds wrought by a lifetime of torment and living in his family’s terrible shadow.

‘We cannot be wed, Aemond.’ Her voice was thick with sorrow and heavy with pain. ‘I am not fit for this game of thrones - I cannot watch it consume you.’

The crimson spray of blood that flashed across her mind was no longer that of Lord Vaemond’s, but Aemond’s. The screams belonging not to the Helaena but children with her dark hair and the prince’s cunning eyes.

‘I am the deadliest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. I ride the largest dragon in the world. I will protect you and our children until my last breath.’ Every line of his body was pulled taut, a bowstring primed to release, the arrow pointed directly at her shattering heart. ‘They will never know the pain that I have. Why can you not trust me in this?’

Hysteria and fear curdled in her breast, as terrible and destructive as wildfire; boiling and consuming until her blood was ablaze, and it felt as though the world might burn with her.

‘Because despite what we feel for each other, those who associate with your house tend to end up dead.’ She hissed, willing her eyes to stay dry, for the blaze inside her to evaporate the weakness that threatened to spill from her every pore. ‘I do not wish for myself or my future children to spend every waking moment guarding their backs from a grab for power or imagined slight.’

Aemond’s face seemed to spasm, a single flicker of emotion before it settled into indifferent stone.

‘I have never expressed any feelings for you beyond base lust, a mistake I do not intend to make again.’ His tone was flat, glacial - a perverted mockery of the fragile soul she had seen in the darkness of his room. ‘I am the second born son of the king; I am destined for a better match than to the last-born daughter of a minor lord. You have as much use to me as a common whore.’

Her heart seized at his words, a painful tremor that threatened to bring her to her knees. But she would not kneel before this man, despite her low standing, despite the way her traitorous heart yearned for him.

In the end, it was the prince who made the decision for her, striding away without another word. Each crack of his boots against the parquet reverberated against her heart, driving another needle into her soul. The door slammed heavily behind him, and the ensuing silence so complete it was deafening.

Afterwards, she could not say how she had managed to dress herself and right her tangled hair, only that a sense of crystal calm had descended over her, as sharp and delicate as glass. With hands that did not shake, she wrote three letters.

The first she had delivered to her father and brother with an excuse that they would not investigate; that her moon blood had come, and that she wished to recuperate at their estate outside the city.

The second would be sent to Jon, with her apologies that family matters would keep her from the forge for a time.

The third flew with a raven to the chamberlain of her family’s ancestral estate in the eastern crownlands, informing the remaining domestics that she would be lodging for half a moon while her mother visited her eldest sister in the Reach.

The quiet clarity remained, the calm before the storm, as she woke the servants and ordered her belongings to be packed and loaded into her father’s carriage. It crept into her bones, curling like a cat into the dark hollows within her ribcage. She barely registered the leagues that passed on the half-day journey beyond the walls of King’s Landing.

The first fingers of dawn were creeping over the horizon when she arrived at Fernside Manor. If anything appeared amiss, her family’s aging chamberlain did not comment as she greeted him upon the worn stone steps of the house that she had been born in. It followed her through the hallways, up to the rooms that had been hers since she was weaned.

And there, upon the furs in her childhood bed, in a room warmed by a fire set hours previous, it broke like a storm descending.

Until this moment, grief had been a distant acquaintance to Lady Edeline Farring; only making its presence briefly known in the passing of elderly relatives and echoing through plays and novels.

Now it bullied its way into her body, into her very essence, as she fractured over and over again. Each sob was a memory become manifest; the first shock of their meeting, the weight of his hand on her hip, the words he’d hurled at her like so many knives, his mouth hot against hers – burning, burning.

Burning until they were stripped bare, a perfect match, a perfect mirror. Tempered steel - deadly beauty forged in dragon fire.

The fire in the hearth was naught but embers by the time the firestorm within her banked its wicked flames. The knock that sounded at the door was the loudest thing in the world; it brought her back to her senses and let her find her voice, barely a whisper after hours of weeping.

‘I do not wish to be disturbed.’

‘Terribly rude of you, sweetling, after I have dragged these old bones of mine up those wretched stairs.’ The figure in the doorway as it opened was frailer than she remembered, leaning against a cane when it had once stood proudly. Nonetheless, her grandmother’s voice was unmistakable in its elegance.

The dowager Lady Farring made her way into the dim chamber, a trio of tall candles flickering in the candelabra held in the hand not wrapped around the intricately carved head of her cane.

‘I do not know why that doddering fool your father calls a chamberlain did not see fit to inform me that my granddaughter had returned home for the first time in moons.’ Elena set the candelabra on the dresser beside the bed, before slowly lowering herself onto the furs next to her granddaughter’s curled form. ‘Nobody tells me anything these days.’

Edeline laughed wetly as she pushed herself upright, allowing her grandmother to cup her damp cheek, wrinkled hand soft as she gently wiped a tear from beneath her lashes.

‘Am I to assume that all this fuss is about that Targaryen prince of yours?’ The piercing grey eyes were her father’s, passed down to him from the matriarch who had sided with her against her mother when she begged to be allowed to apprentice under Jon. Edeline swallowed thickly.

‘I thought no one told you anything?’

Elena clicked her tongue sharply. ‘Obviously that does not apply to your mother – she wrote me hardly a day after she saw you two dancing together at the king’s feast.’

Of course she had.

‘Aemo-‘ She stumbled over the name, ‘The prince does not to belong to me. He never did.’

Her grandmother did not reply, letting the heavy silence prod her youngest granddaughter into speaking. Edeline worked her jaw soundlessly, torn between girlish stubbornness and giving in to the trick that had worked so many times when employed by her father.

‘If you are trying to parse how to lie to me about your innocence, you do not need to trouble yourself.’ The matriarch’s tone was as dry as the Dornish sands, one lined corner of her mouth twitching into a smile. ‘Your lady mother may not have noticed the hay in your hair and your rouge on that lordling’s doublet, but I certainly did. Besides, you are not the first women in this family to ride a dragon, for that matter. King Viserys was quite the libertine before he married his late queen consort.’

‘Grandmother.’ Despite the ache in her chest, a startled laugh burst forth, pushing back the darkness, just a little. ‘I did not have…relations with the prince. He merely kissed me.’

‘Then Prince Aemond must be a particularly skilled kisser, to inspire all this trouble.’ Her face heated, blushing to the roots of her hair as her grandmother maintained a serene expression. Even the filthiest language she had heard on the Street of Steel had not prepared her to discuss the details of her intimate trysts with the women who had helped birth her.

Sensing that she was not going to get further with this line of questioning, Elena sighed gently, smoothing the dark hair back from the younger woman’s face.

‘Your father is a good man, but his marriage to your mother was a match borne of duty and alliance. It was the Mother’s good fortune that they found solace in each other in the years afterward. Be as it may, despite the way she throws knights and lordlings into your path, Marilla has always wished for you to find a love match, even if she and your sisters could not.’

Edeline snorted, a crass sound that the Lady Farring in question would scold her for if she heard.

‘It’s more likely that the Father will sprout tits before that happens.’

Her grandmother scowled sharply, rapping her knuckles with a ring-encrusted hand for good measure. ‘Don’t be sacrilegious, awful girl.’

She smiled fully then; the sharp ache of her broken heart still present but dulled somewhat, at least for now. Her true agenda achieved, her grandmother mirrored her expression, the gleam in her eyes belonging to a much younger woman than the body she wore with such grace.

‘Now,’ She planted her cane, twining her free arm around Edeline’s. ‘You may help me move my old bones down to the kitchens and we can see if the cook still remembers how to make those sweet buns that you were so fond of as a girl.’

‘Yes, grandmother.’ For now, she left her grief behind in the darkened room, curled beneath the furs like a loyal hound. It would still be there when she returned, she knew, where it would once again twine its dark tendrils around her bones and peel her apart as the stone walls stood in silent witness. Each barb of its wicked tongues armed with the hateful words he had spit at her, each artfully forged to find the chinks in her armour, to draw blood.

But for now, she would let the memories of her girlhood warm her. Just for a little longer.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond stannies #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targeryen imagine #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #slow burn #oc #ofc #slowburn #angst #angst with a happy ending

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flowerandblood · 7 months

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Stay and love, leave and die

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Strong! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, noncon, virginity loss, smut, angst, choking, violence, threats, kidnapping, obsession ]

[ description: After the death of her grandfather, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong travels to Storm's End to remind Borros Baratheon of his fathers oath to her mother he had made years ago. There she meets her uncle, whom she has not seen since a certain terrible event that took place between him and her brother. Her uncle decides to take his payment for what happened to him. Aggressive, obsessive, very dark! Aemond.]

This oneshot is inspired by anon request and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these fisc will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

Today marks one year since Ewan Mitchell played the role of Aemond Targaryen. I want to celebrate with this messed up Halloween oneshot! Love you my Aemond girlies 🎃🎃🎃

Alternative Universe Series: The Fall from the Heavens

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

My others works: Masterlist

____

She didn't remember much about the night her uncle lost his eye; at the time she was too young to understand what had really happened. When she came down into the great hall in only her nightgown and saw the maester bending over her uncle she squealed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand, terrified and distraught, bursting into tears.

She and Aemond were betrothed through the King's decision.

Her grandfather believed that a union between them would ensure that the kingdom would not fall apart after his death.

Her uncle did not speak to her much before their betrothal because she was a girl and her her feminine concerns did not arouse his interest. However, sometimes when she met him in the library, he would read aloud to her and she would listen to him with interest.

They would then exchange thoughts about their lineage, and even though it was purely childish, naive musings, they both felt like adults then.

She was really fond of him.

He was calm, polite and didn't mock her like Jace and Aegon, who said that when she frowned her eyebrows and pressed her lips together she looked like a hamster.

It turned out that their grandfather's decision, instead of confusing and intimidating them, brought them closer together. Her uncle was a man who understood perfectly what duty was and considered it his task and responsibility to prove himself as a husband according to his father's will.

He began to introduce her to his world full of weapons and trainings filled with effort, his beloved books on philosophy and history.

She knew that it gave him great satisfaction when she borrowed thick volumes from his private collection, which his mother had presented to him, pleased that she was able to discuss with him more and more boldly and confidently on subjects that interested him.

He embarrassed her when one day he asked her hesitantly if she could spend the night by his side. From what she understood he did not sleep well, although he did not want to say for whatever reason. He found that her presence reassured him, and since she was to be his wife, her place was with him.

She couldn't hide the heat and joy that spread through her heart at the thought that he craved to feel her by his side.

From then on, she would sneak out to his chamber at night, slipping under his bedding, falling asleep beside him pressing her forehead against his, holding his hand in hers. He never tried to touch her in an indecent way, never ordered her to expose her body, instead allowing her to place innocent, warm, childlike kisses on his lips whenever she desired.

If it hadn't been for the darkness around them she would have noticed that his cheeks were rosy with shame and contentment, that he was smiling lazily as he lay there with his eyes closed.

From then on, he slept peacefully.

Then, however, her younger brother deprived him of one eye when he dared to tame Vhagar, and her mother, despite promises that she would be able to visit him, allowed it only after a few days, hiding behind the fact that her half-brother should rest. However, when she appeared at the door of his chamber full of hope, Criston Cole sent her away and she never saw him again.

She sent him letters for eight years, one every two months, but he never wrote her back.

When king Viserys died her mother decided that she would fly to Storm's End to remind Lord Baratheon of his fathers oath, while Jace was to fly to Winterfell and Luke to the Eyrie.

All things considered, however, she did not foresee one thing.

Vhagar.

When she saw her in the middle of the storm, raising her head towards her like a great moving mountain, she felt fear.

She had not seen him since that day.

She did not fly to King's Landing when Luke fought for his rights to Driftmark because her mother and the Queen thought it would only make things worse, and her uncle did not want to see her.

For a moment she hesitated in spirit, standing in the rain, whether to turn back, terrified at the thought that he was there. She recognised, however, that her mother had entrusted her with this mission believing that she would fulfil the task and she had to fight for her rights.

Therefore, she gathered her courage and approached the guards, informing them of who she was. They led her into a large circular throne room, lit up once in a while by an intense flash of lightning and the torches all around her.

That's when she saw him.

He stood in a leather cloak with sword and dagger at his side, speaking to one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, but when he heard the guards announce who had arrived he looked towards her, turning on his heel, holding his hands entwined behind his back.

His lips twitched in a mocking, menacing grin that sent shivers through her, his pupil narrowed like those of a cat that had just seen a mouse.

"My Lady Strong." He said teasingly, coldly, lightly, and she swallowed loudly, recognising that she had not come all this way to tease.

She was shivering with cold and fear and wanted to convey what she had to say as quickly as possible.

"Queen Rhaenyra wishes to remind you of the oath your father, Lord Baratheon, made to her years ago." She said softly and clearly, looking up at the distressed lord sitting before her on the stone throne.

"Prince Aemond has offered to take one of my daughters as his wife. Which of my daughters will one of your brothers marry to win my favour?" He asked her in a dry, raised voice, frustrated by her presence and what she was demanding of him.

She swallowed loudly, looking at her uncle in shock, seeing him watching her with satisfaction, his chin raised in a gesture of victory, the corner of his mouth still twitching in a smile.

He was proud of himself.

"Forgive me, my Lord, both my brothers who are of the proper age for marriage are already betrothed." She muttered, and Lord Baratheon laughed aloud, spreading his arms to his sides.

"So you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. Tell your mother she won't summon me when she wishes like some dog." He growled.

She swallowed the insult with difficulty, nodding, feeling her head humming, her heart pounding like mad, her uncle's gaze piercing her to the core.

"I will pass on your words to the Queen, my Lord." She said, forcing herself to be calm and bowed, turning away tense and walking out quickly, wanting to be back in Dragonstone as soon as possible.

She stepped out into the courtyard into the intense rain pouring down from the sky, loud thunder all around her, her whole body trembling from fear.

"Wait, my Lady Strong." She heard a cold, mocking voice behind her and squealed softly as she felt someone's strong, large hand clench painfully tight on her arm.

"Won't you greet your uncle? Don't you want to see at last my memento after meeting your brother?" He hissed, pulling his eye patch from his face with his free hand in one sharp, firm, agressive motion.

She drew in a loud breath when she saw polished sapphire shining ominously in his eye socket.

She stared at the sight simultaneously horrified and enthralled, there was something in his face, in his gaze, in the way he clenched his jaw, that she was unable to look away from him.

"− please −" She mumbled, trying to pull herself out of his arms, but he embraced her, pressing her close. She put her hands on his rain-wet leather coat and tried to push him away, but he only chuckled lowly at her helpless efforts, locking her in his grasp.

"− I see you've changed too − you even look like a woman now − maybe I should take you away and enjoy you after so many years of separation − didn't you miss me? −" He asked in a humiliating, sweet, mocking voice, leaning over her like a child so as to look into her frightened eyes, in which tears of terror had gathered.

She was afraid of the way he looked at her.

"− please, uncle, I just want to go home −" She whispered pleadingly and took his cold face in her hands, wanting to alleviate the situation somehow, to give it some affectionate gesture that would help him calm down.

Something changed in his gaze, he shuddered and licked his lower lip, looking at her with his head tilted, his grip not easing one bit, their hair, faces and clothes wet from the intense rain.

"− no −" He hissed and grabbed her in half, throwing her over his shoulder, she began to squeal and scream, slapping his back with her hands, her dragoness writhed ominously at the sight, ready to breathe fire.

He summoned Vhagar, who rose suddenly on her paws, the ground shook beneath her and her little dragoness scowled in fear, as terrified as she was.

"− please, don't hurt her! −" She cried to him and stopped struggling, knowing that Vhagar's teeth clamped down on her dragoness would tear her apart. "− please, I'll fly with you, I will do anything −"

"− hm −" He murmured under his breath, placing her on the ground right next to the ropes hanging from his saddle. He looked at her with an indifferent, cool gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. "− up −"

She cried all the way, snuggling into the front of his saddle, feeling his body clinging to hers behind her, his face pressed against her neck.

"− I will make you my mistress − you will bear me bastards after I marry any of that fool's daughters − bastards are perfect for bearing other bastards, aren't they? −" He whispered in her ear, placing wet, sticky kisses on the skin of her neck, and she tried with difficulty to catch her breath, almost choking from her sobs.

She prayed for her mother to save her.

He dragged her by her arm, holding her painfully tight, towards his chamber, heedless of the surprised stares of the guards.

It was the middle of the night and he had commanded that no one was to disturb them.

He pushed her into his chambers and she fell to the stone floor, panting heavily, shaking all over, feeling like she was about to vomit from fear, tears and rain drops running down her cheeks. She could hear him breathing loudly with excitement and exertion, pulling off his coat, tossing it disorderly on the floor.

She was breathing hard, looking at him in horror, wondering what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to fight him.

Suddenly, this one thought, this one attempt, seeing him begin to walk towards her with a menacing, final step that said it all came out of her mouth.

"I've written letters to you. For eight years, every two months. You never wrote back to any of them. Why?" She asked in a trembling, broken voice, feeling how tight her throat was with fear, how much her hands were quivering.

He stopped in mid-step, furrowing his brow, his face impassive, tense, cold.

"Liar." He hissed as he knelt over her, grabbing her by her neck, pressing her to the ground in a one, brutal motion, his free hand quickly found the dagger hidden under her cloak and tossed it aside with a loud clang of steel.

She figured that the more she resisted, the more pain he would cause her.

"I'm not lying. Ask your grandfather. I suspect he didn't even pass them on to you, did he?" She mumbled with difficulty, his fingers clenching on her neck so tightly that she had trouble breathing.

However, she noticed a kind of hesitation and uncertainty on his face, his nostrils quivering in a ragged breath.

"And what did you write in them, my Lady Strong?" He asked teasingly, his free hand sliding down to the tying of his breeches, his wide-eyed gaze directed at her, mad, implacable, cruel.

She licked her lips, feeling his fingers cold and wet from the rain clenching on her hot skin, tried not to think about the sound of the material slipping away, only what she had wanted to say to him for years.

"That I was too young to understand what happened then. That it wasn't until years later that I realised you had been deprived of more than an eye that night. That I can't sleep. That something in me died that day." She whispered with difficulty, tears of grief, fear and horror running down the sides of her face onto the stone floor he pressed her against.

She saw that he had stopped in mid-motion, breathing loudly, his lips pressed together, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"I will not give you back to your mother-whore. I will keep you as my payment for the harm she has done to me." He said coolly, furrowing his brow, looking at her as if he was explaining to her that it was the only reasonable thing to do.

Her heart pounded like crazy as she thought what she was doing was working.

That it wasn't rape per se that was his goal, but the appropriation of something precious that belonged to her mother, so that he could have a sense of atonement.

She nodded, trying to calm herself, wanting him to remain calm too.

"Very well." She whispered quietly, something in his face changed, a sort of surprise passed across his eye. He let out a loud sigh, as if he expected that only when he took her by force would she agree.

"For years I have suffered with the thought of that day. I will compensate you as best I can." She mumbled softly, a final, solitary tear running down her face.

She tried with all her might to think of that boy she loved so dearly and not the monstrous man who had just looked at her.

"Hm." He hummed again, letting her go, rising from his lap, his watchful gaze directed straight at her.

She grabbed her neck, drawing in air loudly, turning onto her stomach, quivering all over.

She heard the clang of steel and the sound of a loud filling. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, breathing hard, and noticed that he had poured himself some wine.

He moved slowly towards the chair opposite her and sat down with a loud creak of wood, arranging himself comfortably, crossing his legs.

"I await my compensation." He said lightly, as if amused, taking a loud sip from his cup, his healthy eye staring at her wide-eyed with a sharp, expectant gaze, his lips stretched in a lazy, dangerous grin.

She swallowed loudly, standing up slowly, feeling her legs refuse to obey her, thinking strenuously what she should do.

"No man would want me for a wife after this." She sobbed out with difficulty, looking at him horrified, and he chuckled under his breath, cocking his head to the side.

"If you please me enough, I will take you as my wife in the tradition of Old Valyria, and our children will be my official heirs." He said dryly, and she felt her heart begin to pound like mad, she shook her head as if she did not believe what he was saying.

"− your grandfather − your future wife − they would never −"

"− I don't give a shit about them − only my word counts in this matter − do you understand? −" He asked loudly, looking up at her from below, tapping his fingers on the armrest at his last word. She pressed her lips together, looking at him pleadingly.

"− we both know you won't marry me − you despise me − I −"

"I will be merciful and spare you from giving birth to my bastards. I will either marry you or kill you, depending on how much I like what you do now." He said softly, something like a gleam in his eye, content with this insightful thought, his cup reached his lips again as he took a greedy sip from it.

She clenched her hands into fists, knowing what he desired, knowing that if she didn't give it to him, he would take it anyway, violently and aggressively, and then just cut her throat.

She thought with despair that if she could spare herself even a little pain, she would.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her watchfully as she approached him with a slow, unhurried step, wordlessly sitting on his lap, her hair still wet from the rain, partly pinned back in a bun, partly lowered loosely down her back.

She raised her trembling hands to the buckles of her cloak, undoing them with a slow movement, his gaze fixed on her fingers. He lifted his gaze to her face, drinking quickly the remnant of wine he had in his goblet, looking greedily after a moment at her drenched gown, through which material he could see almost everything.

She felt something in his breeches pulse hard beneath her, and then again and again, becoming harder and harder.

"I don't know what to do, uncle." She whispered quietly, begging him in a way to end her humiliation, to just show her what he wanted and leave her alone.

He looked at her suddenly, humming again in his low, thoughtful, throaty tone, his hand slipping beneath the material of her underskirt, touching shamelessly her naked thigh, finally digging his fingertips into the soft skin of her hip, pressing her closer to him, forcing her to rub againt what was beneath her with slow back and forth movements.

She saw him part his lips, his other hand quickly set the cup down on the small table standing next to them and swiftly joined his first hand, also tightening on her hip. She felt the rocking movements of her hips tease something between her thighs, tickling her at the same time and making her shiver.

"Spread my breeches to the sides." He commanded in a hoarse, trembling voice looking at her expectantly, licking his lower lip in an involuntary, quick motion.

She did as he instructed and suddenly felt something hard and throbbing press against her naked body, she drew in the air loudly guessing what it was. She felt him take his manhood in his hand in a confident movement.

"Lift up and slide it inside you." He said coolly, but the tone of his voice betrayed some kind of excitement, his healthy eye open wide.

She swallowed loudly, resting her hands on his shoulders for balance, breathing loudly, trying not to think about how scared she was, how much she wanted to go home, his sapphire eye gleamed dangerously in the dark.

She settled against him and felt the fat head of his length push against her folds, sliding in just a little, stretching her slit painfully to all sides. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a quiet sigh of discomfort, a throaty groan escaping his lips.

"− fuck − keep going −" He exhaled, not moving however, his hand holding his manhood in such a position that it stood perpendicular to her body.

She bit her lips, gasping with effort as she tried to fit him deeper inside her, another loud, involuntary groan escaped his lips, he threw his head back, clenching his healthy eye, clasping his hand on her bare buttocks. He opened it suddenly and looked at her, breathing loudly through his mouth.

One brutal, sudden thrust of his hips startled her and tore something inside her, she cried out and convulsed in pain shaking all over, his large hands stroking her thighs reassuringly.

He knew he had just taken her maidenhood.

"− shhh − shhh −" He hushed her, rocking inside her with slow, steady rhythm of his hips, looking at her with misty eyes full of something she didn't understand, a single tear of horror and humiliation ran down her cheek.

She drew in a loud breath as he lifted his one hand to her face, his thumb rubbing the wet stain from her cheek, and then his fingers tightened on the nape of her neck, drawing her closer, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck.

Stunned and helpless, she clenched her hands on the material of his leather tunic, seeking refuge in her tormentor, wishing only that he would not cause her any more pain.

"− hush − it's all right − look how easy it's sliding in now −" He whispered quietly into her ear, his length slipping softly all the way into her only to slide out almost completely, teasing something inside her. His movements began to become increasingly slippery, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a quiet, sticky click.

"− just like that − just a little longer −" He cooed, stroking her wet hair, placing almost tender kisses on her temple, panting along with her with each of his movements, her body bouncing slightly with each of his thrusts.

She snuggled into him tighter, just wanting to hide, to escape, his neck smelling of smoke, sweat, rain. She closed her eyes, trying to relax, and he groaned loudly feeling her body stop resisting him, his lips roaming over her wet cheek, placing moist, sticky kisses on it.

"− I know − I know − 'm close −" He whispered with some kind of care from which a shudder went through her, the thought that when he did this she might soon expect his child.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought feeling the tears burning under her eyelids again, sobbing quietly, embracing him tightly, his thrusts getting faster and louder, slamming his swollen, fat cock into her again and again, both of them began to moan, his one hand clenched in her hair, the other squeezed her hip.

"− how could you leave me − I was waiting for you then − ah − all fucking night − but it doesn't matter − you're mine now − g-gods − fuck! −" He exhaled loudly, panting heavily along with her, his words making her feel her core throbbing around him, sucking him inside, some warm liquid spilling inside her and suddenly it was all over.

They sat cuddled together like that for long minutes, their breaths calming, not speaking or moving, just embracing each other, his face nestled into her hair, his nose pressed against her cheek.

"From now on everything will be as it should be, wife."

_____

Alternative Universe Series: The Fall from the Heavens

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

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bananadrinkxxx · 7 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞

MASTERLIST

[Aemond Targaryen x female Lucerys Velaryon • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: Boarding School - Modern Setting. Lucerya avoided her uncle for years but Aemond remembers and he is on his mission to make her life a living hell.]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

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blitzosblog · 1 year

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Aemond Targaryen

Entwined: Aemond is being married off to strengthen the alliances of House Green and Aegon's succession, a new house making an appearance in the kingdom has brought on a possible end to the young Prince's hunt. 🥰

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targeryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond Targaryen x y/n #aemond Targaryen smut #aemond Targaryen angst

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saltywritings · 1 year

Text

Petals of the Dragon | Aemond Targaryen x Reader | Part Two

summary: a multipart beauty and the beast au.

part three

series warnings: suggestive commentary, foul language, violence, etc.

in the days that followed you slowly felt comfortable leaving your chambers each day. the time you spent with the beast, aemond as he was referred to often by the furniture that has become your companions, was minimal. something that you were genuinely grateful for. yet, as you strolled across the castle you were unable to keep your curiosity at bay. you wondered what could possibly be hidden away in the west wing of the castle? your feet danced along the stairs quietly, making sure to not pull any attention as you ventured into forbidden territory. once reaching the top of the staircase your eyes were pulled to an open door. there was a part of you that was telling you to flee- to stay away from it. to go before you were caught. for you still had been uncertain what this beast was fully capable of, and yet? you pulled your feet to the open door, head poking in first to assure that he had not been nearby. however, the room was empty. a mess, but empty. the room was warm, perhaps the warmest part in the castle with roaring fire emerging from its fireplace. blankets were torn to shreds and scattered across the room, tossed over furniture, and the remnant of a bed frame was before you in the room. a torn tapestry rested against the wall, clinging onto one another by mere threads. you walked over to threads that clung together, you fingers nimbly held the fabric up to get a better look at what had been torn- and it resembled the beast you had seen in some light. the features were different, but the structure seemed the same. though, your attention was only brought to the tapestry momentarily.

it was only a mater of moments before a glow came upon the room. you turned to see what had been causing this sudden glow in the room and to the side of the bed near the balcony stood a rose on a table, under a glass dome. there had been something unexplainable that allured you to it. a natural pull. a part of you that was unable to resist. for it was only a matter of seconds before your hands were pulling up the glass dome that sheltered the rose; for your eyes looked to its glowing red petals with wonder. you managed to pluck the dome from the table, your eyes full of wonder, and blissfully unaware of the petals that had long wilted from the rose. one of your hands slowly moved to the rose, your fingers almost touching a petal when you felt a hand grab onto your arm. a harsh pull that caused you to stumble back on to the ground. you landed on your bum, looking up as the beast quickly placed the cover back over the rose.

“do you have any idea what you could have done!” the beast snapped turning to face you, towering over you as you attempted to stumble to your feet.

“i-i’m sorry-“ is all you could stutter out.

“i told you to never go to this wing of the castle!” he continued to scream, his face coming closer to yours as you continued to flinch in his presences. before you, aemond had begun wildling flipping over furniture, throwing things from the ground- a black crown tumbling down after.

“stop, please. stop.” you spluttered, beginning to beg now.

“get out!” he hissed, you were frozen for a moment but he repeated himself. “get out!” this time he was screaming and you did not hesitate again. quickly, you left the room. sprinting out of it and down the stairs. you were booking it for the door when you heard the clock, otto as he referred to himself, shout after you. you were rushing past him, knocking him over in your pass.

“where are you going?!” otto shouted, you had reached the door.

“i’m leaving- oath or not, its not worth being locked in here.” you confessed your hand pulling at the handle for the door.

“you can’t leave-“ the candlestick, aegon as he so proudly called himself, called out almost helplessly.

“i’m sorry.” is all you were able to mutter before you went racing from the castle, the cold winter air ate at your skin through your dress.

your fingertips were nearly numb from the cold by the time you manage to pull your horse from the stable. you climbed on the back and attempted to ride far from the castle. in the dark of the night and in the blizzarding snow you attempted to race through the woods. your horse was quickly confused in the night and while you attempted to pull the reigns your horse listened to not commands. this time was short, however. for the growling of the wolves quickly rung in your ear. surrounding your horse had been the pack of wolves. your father once told you that the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. the thought came to your head only to realize how outnumbered you were. as the growling continued your horse took off. wildly thrashing through the woods. you were grasping on for your life. however, there had only been so long you were able to hold onto her before you were sent flying back- and your horse continued on without you.

panic spread across your soft features as the sound of growling grew louder and louder. it was in the pale moon light that you could see the dark wolves closing in on you. quickly, you stood to your feet hands grabbing on a near by branch as you attempted to keep the wolves from you. arms swinging violently as you the wolves nipped the air by your clothing. just missing you as you attempted to keep them away. however, the branch snapped and soon you were face to face with what would likely be your fate. you only hoped that the mother would give you a merciful death if this was the end. if this was how you met the stranger. you covered your face, expecting the worst. however, a loud grunt came from behind you as a yelp came from the wolves. behind you had been the very beast who had entrapped you. his claws coming down to pull the wolves, they bit at him and scratched him as he fought them. you stood in shock as aemond fought off the wolves- watching as they went scurrying away. aemond, however, only looked to you for a moment before he collapsed to the ground. covered in his own blood you rushed to him. there was a part of you telling yourself to leave. but you couldn’t. not after he had saved your life. therefore, you stood beside aemond as you manage to get him back to the castle.

you had aemond resting in a chair by the fireplace, alicent brought you warm water with a rag to help clean aemond’s wounds. the bowl rested in front of you and your hands dipped the cloth into the warm water before you brought it to the wound on aemond’s arm.

“hold still!” you insisted through gritted teeth, finally managing to place it down on the wound once you had a grip of his arm.

“i don’t need your help, you’re just trying to hurt me-” aemond spoke back to you attempting to pull his arm away from your grasp.

“it wouldn’t hurt so much if you would just hold still, i’m only trying to help-“ you were attempting to plead with him but aemond finally sat up in his chair. an ounce of energy overcoming him as he sat up to look at you with a powerful scold.

“i wouldn’t even be in such situation if you had not run away,” aemond attempted to gain the upper hand.

“i wouldn’t have run away if you hadn’t frightened me, if you would have controlled your tempter.” you fought with him, cloth still in hand.

“i forbid you from going to the west wing of the castle,” aemond reminded you.

“you still did not need react that way, aemond.” you scolded, however, the attention shifted.

“what did you say?” the silver haired beast continued to question, you did not answer. “where did you hear that?” he questioned you.

“the furniture, they call you aemond.” you explained, your eyes meeting his. there was a silence that followed as your eyes remained locked to his. “may i call you aemond?” you questioned, aware it had been his name and had begun quite tired of referring to him as a beast.

“you may-“ aemond granted the permission, breaking eye contact with you. carefully, he gave up handing his arm back over to you as you carefully pulled the warm cloth back to his wound.

“thank you, aemond.” you called his name softly. it felt foreign to him. his name coming off of your lips. there was a part of him that softened as you continued. “thank you for saving my life,” you expressed your tender hands continuing to clean his wound.

“you’re welcome, y/n” aemond called to you slumping into the chair slightly as his body relaxed.

you weren’t leaving here anytime soon.

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

Note

Well 😻 stepdaughter start to love daemon when baby number 6 born. More jealous Rhaenyra

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader

summary: stepdaughter start to love daemon when baby number 6 born. More jealous Rhaenyra

Word count: 1,1K

Warnings: Fluff, childbirth

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"How much longer does my wife have to endure this?" Daemon questioned angrily glaring at the midwife between your legs. Your cried when another contraction hit you. Your hands clutched onto Daemon needing some kind of anchor for your pain.

"I know my love, I know" He tried reassuring. His free hand pushed back your sweaty hair.

"No you don't know! All you know is how to wet your cock you cunt! You screamed pulling away from him only to begin slamming your hands against his chest and he took it. If this was what made you fell better then he will endure it.

"Shhh" He shushed hugging you closely The midwife looked at him worriedly.

"What is it?" He asked now worrying himself. You had gone into labor almost two days ago now, groaning in pain until it was too much and your screams filled the castle.

"If her grace does not start pushing soon, we will lose her and the babe" The midwife answered. She had been begging you to push for almost ten minutes but you refused in too much pain.

"Please my love, push for me and for our children, they need you" Daemon begged leaning his forehead against yours. His hands were gentle as always with you coaxing you through this.

"Do not leave me" You begged shaking your head from side to side. You had heard of the stories, what your grandsire had done to your grandmother, letting them cut her open like some sheep and pull out her child from her insides only for him to die hours later.

"Never, my dove" He kissed your forehead. You took a deep breath to compose yourself.

"Push your grace" The midwife instructed. You nodded encouraging yourself and pushed with all your might. Hand curling around Daemon's painfully but he did not complain, he never did with any of your other births. Your eyes trailed over to him watching him breathing with you, reminding your to breath and that it will be over soon.

"My brave girl" He praised kissing your knuckles before pushes. You took another deep breath cursing your mother for not being here when her only daughter was going through her birthing her own grandchild.

"One more" The midwife promised seeing your energy begin to slip out of you. You will not give up because Daemon was here and he will rain hell upon the world if something were to happen to you.

"There we go" The midwife cheered as your slipped into her arms. Plump with fat from all the food Daemon force fed you even when you were full, and screaming loudly to show the world they were healthy.

"A boy" She handed the baby to his father. Daemon hugged him closely feeling his heart swell in size making room for his sixth child from you.

"Show him to me" You begged trying to look over his shoulder. Daemon leaned down to show you the child. You made no move to take him not wanting to risk hurting him when you had no strength.

"Baeron" You whispered lifting your hand up to caress his chubby cheek with your finger. Daemon leaned his forehead on your as you both watched your son wiggle in his father's arms.

"As you wish, my love" Daemon agreed without a second thought. He had turned to be a slave, for you and your children. The second Jacaella was born and placed in his arms he was ready to place the world at your feet, you were his goddess.

"Thank you" He looked up to look at you. His eyebrows raised in shock seeing you already admiring him, his every move. You have never spared him a second glance usually, especially after giving birth he has always been at the back of our head.

"He's perfect" You whispered but keeping your eyes on your husband.

"Yes he is" Daemon nodded in agreement. Always by your side even if you were wrong, protecting you and taking your side against even your mother. You two pulled away at the sound of the doors opening to show your mother finally making an appearance with your children following behind her.

"He's here" She sneered looking in disgust at Baeron. When Jacaella was born she broke down in tears but slowly her love for you and your children grew smaller as Daemon's love grew bigger. You wander if she loved you at all at this point.

"Baeron, mother" You introduced. Your heart swelled watching Daemon move to place Baeron in his cradle only to help your other children climb your bed and took Vael from her wet nurse so she could leave you and your family alone.

"Another brother?" Jacaella groaned leaning on your shoulder with a frown. Daemon laughed alongside you reaching over to pat your daughter's cheek.

"Yes, another brother graced us" Your mother spat glaring down on your child. For the first time you feared for your children in your mother's presence. You reached over to squeeze Daemon's arm in fear. He understood without you having to say anything.

"How about we all leave so the mother and son can rest" Daemon suggested getting off the bed. The children who grew bored fast scrambled to leave without a second question. Your mother threw one last glare at you before leaving. Daemon sighed in relief closing the door behind Vael's wet nurse.

"Daemon" You called earning his attention. He turned to look at you worried that you were in any pain only to found you smiling at him with your hand outstretched to him. He stalked over almost cautiously trying to remember if this were one of his many dreams of you or reality.

"What is it, sweet girl?" he asked sitting down beside you. His hand latched on yours, one of the few of your initiated physical touches and maybe the first that was not meant to cause him pain like your do when giving birth or when you scratch down his body, especially his back when he makes love to you, this was soft and gentle.

"I love you" you whispered shyly. Daemon's heart stopped with fear, fear that this was fake and he will wake to the ruthless reality of your hate.

"I love you" You repeated to snap him out of his daze.

"Truly?" He asked. You nodded with a small shy smile, you looked so innocent almost transporting him back to the times before you married, before you were found in the arms of Aemond still too young for love.

"I love you too" He pulled you in a hug wanting to stay in that moment for the rest of his life if he could.

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