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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

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Daemon x oc, where oc is alicent's 4th child and her favorite, but the oc also inherent Otto's scheming skills and so much better than him and overly can't stand rhaenrya and knows that rhaenrya likes daemon so she goes for daemon and daemon falls harder for the oc AKKKK and rhaenrya pov where she realizes that she is losing daemon to her much younger half-sister, please 🥺🫶

Half-Blood Rivalry || D. Targaryen x oc

GIF by @mad-witch-moon DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: tysm for this request!!! anons please continue to send me requests pls!!! I hope you guys are happy for Catarina to play oc as Rhaella :) also please imagine that this takes place in ep 2. when rhaella is born is around the time daemon is banished for taking rhae to the brothel. rhaenyra hasn’t married laenor or has children yet.

The youngest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen was sweet Rhaella. When Rhaenyra first held the girl when she was only a babe, she had a strange feeling about her half-sister. As years went by and both girls no doubt got older, Rhaenyra could not seem to shake off the uneasy feelings she felt towards her youngest sister.

“Happy Name Day, sweet child” Alicent goes on her tippy toes to kiss her youngest and—anyone with eyes could see— favourite child. “Thank you, mother,” Rhaella kissed her cheek. It was then her father’s turn. Rhaella and Viserys had always had a complicated relationship, the two never seemed to see eye to eye, quite similar with her other siblings.

Rhaella and her siblings knew that their father didn’t favour them as much as he does with Rhaenyra. Nonetheless, Viserys was still her father and he cared for him.

“Happy name day, sister” Rhaenyra bursts through the doors of the throne room with a drunken smile. Everyone in the room stared at the platinum white haired Princess in shock. Her appearance was dishevelled and she reeked of alcohol. It was only morning.

“Are you quite alright Rhaenyra?” Alicent raises an eyebrow as she looks the Targaryen up and down. Rhaella lets out a scoff. Typical Rhaenyra. “Quite so, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my dear sister on this special day” She raises a cup towards the younger who rolls her tongue against her cheek in annoyance.

Rhaella looks to Viserys, a wide grin on his face making her scoff. Rhaenyra somehow always seems to pull Rhaella’s buttons without even realising. In her opinion, she was a stuck up Princess that was never grateful of what was given to her.

Rhaella could not stand her older half-sister, maybe it was because of the fact that their father always placed Rhaenyra on a pedestal and could never do anything wrong in his eyes. Placing a fake smile on her pretty face, Rhaella speaks up. “Thank you Rhaenyra, your presence here means so much to me” She pops a grape in her mouth.

Otto lowly chuckles yet shakes his head lightly at his granddaughter’s tone. There was no denying that out of his four grandchildren, Rhaella too was his favourite. The young Targaryen was very much like him in many ways, even better in some aspects you could say.

There was silence at the table for a bit as they all ate, when all of a sudden, the doors once again opened. This time, Ser Harrold walked in. “Your Grace, he’s back” Was all the kingsguard said. Rhaella and her siblings stop chewing their food and look to their father.

Viserys wore a shocked face before standing up quickly and walking away. Rhaella looks to her mother in confusion as she gives her a sad look and rubs her arm. “Father, where are you going?” The young Targaryen turns in her seat as she watches him walk away. What even stung the young girl was the fact that he didn’t respond.

“Daemon’s back” Rhaenyra says to herself with wide eyes. “Don’t be silly, uncle Daemon has not returned to court in how many years?” Aegon questions as Rhaella replies, “Since I was a babe” She shrugs. “But who else would Ser Harrold have referred to? Did you see father’s face,” She humorously scoffs, “That was Daemon alright” Rhaenyra shrugs.

“Enough talk about your uncle. It is Rhaella’s name day and I want you all behaved for her birthday celebrations today” Alicent sternly speaks before continuing to eat. The Targaryen siblings all give each other one final look before going back to their meal.

It was the night of Rhaella's name day where a huge feast was held. Alicent demanded the celebration to be extravagant for her favourite child. You could have mistaken the event as the King's name day.

Rhaella sat beside her mother and her siblings beside her, Rhaenyra on Viserys' side. When her father stood up to announce a speech, he was interrupted by a figure walking into the throne room.

It was no one other than Daemon. Young Rhaella had not seen him all day, him showing up there was her first time seeing him really as she could not recall him when she was a born.

Of course, the Targaryen often heard stories about her uncle. He held a bad reputation and yet everytime anyone would speak of him, Rhaella always found herself wanting to hear more about her uncle.

He sauntered in with a smirk on his face. "Brother, I thought you weren't going to come" Viserys puts a smile on his face as Daemon stands in front of the table, his hands clasped together. Rhaella could have sworn she saw a glint of mischievous in his eyes.

She looks up towards her father, than to her half-sister. Rhaenyra had a look on her face that Rhaella couldn't quite fathom out. "And miss my dear nieces' birthday celebration? How could I do that to Rhaenrya" Alicent gasps in disbelief and Aemond chuckles under his breath, a kick under the table from Otto shut him up.

"I think your mistaken dear uncle, it is not Rhaenyra you should be wishing a happy birthday, but me," Rhaella irked, crossing her arms. Daemon's eyes move to her. She watched him study her before a grin makes it to his lips. "Apologies...." He trails off, "Rhaella." "My brother failed to mention which niece of mine was celebrating. After all, I have little memory of his children before I left."

Rhaella nods her head politely, he was offered a seat at the end of the table near Rhaenyra. She couldn't help but notice her half-sisters' wanting eyes to Daemon. The young Targaryen knew of what had happened when she was born. In terms of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

But she did not expect her to still long for her uncle, after all, Daemon was gone for nearly 20 years. The whole time as they all feasted, Rhaella felt eyes burning into her and everytime she looked, Daemon shamelessly stares with a smirk on his face.

"I think I would like to dance," Rhaella says before standing up and making her way to her sworn knight, Ser Harwin. "A dance Ser Harwin?" The princess looks up at him with a smile. "It is my pleasure, princess" He smiles back as they start to dance, not knowing a certain Targaryen's eyes were fixated on the two the entire time.

"Your daughter is quite pleasing to look at, Alicent" Daemon chuckles to himself, his eyes still not leaving Rhaella. Alicent nearly choked on her drink as she glares at him. "My sister is nearly half my age uncle!" Rhaenyra laughs.

"Mhm, a shame indeed" He mutters as he taps his fingers on the table. Rhaenyra stares at her uncle in disbelief. The princess opens her mouth but shuts it again when Daemon stands up and makes his way through the crowd to where Rhaella and Ser Harwin were dancing.

"Might I have this dance, princess?" Daemon whispers against her ears as she breathed heavily from dancing. Rhaella gives a small nod to Harwin as he backs off and now dances with Daemon. "You know, you've grown quite alot," He starts off. "Thank you for pointing the obvious uncle," She rolls her eyes playfully, "Into such a, beautiful woman" Daemon finishes.

Rhaella smiles, "Thank you, I assume-" She was cut off by Rhaenyra who taps her shoulder, "Can I steal our dear uncle, sister?" She questions as she doesn't even bother looking at Rhaella, only Dameon.

The young Targaryen looks between the two before nodding her head. She walks away not before locking eyes with her uncle before his gaze floats back to Rhaenyra. "Did you just get told to bugger off, sister?" Aegon laughs as Rhaella approaches the table and smacks his head. "Ow!" He groans, rubbing his head. Alicent shoots a look to the eldest.

"I believe our dear Rhaenyra is still infatuated with Daemon" Rhaella tilts her head. "Not surprised, the way she was eyeing him the whole time, I thought she'd eat uncle on the spot" Halaena says concerned as Rhaella and her brothers laughed loudly. Deep down, Rhaella couldn't push aside a strange feeling as she watched her sister and her uncle dancing and laughing together.

“Do you jest, sister?” Rhaella’s mouth hangs open at Rhaenyra’s idea that she had created in her head. “What? Daemon and I are made for each other. We have blood of the dragons coursing through us. Not to forget, he wanted me before he was banished by Father” She paces back and forth in her room.

The young Targaryen only blinked a few times before laughing. Rhaenyra glares at her younger sister. “S-sorry,” Rhaella wipes the tears that escaped from laughter, “Do you still think uncle longs for you? Forgive me for saying this Rhaenyra, but you are no longer a maiden.” Rhaella tilts her head.

“Daemon might have lusted over you at one point but yet again, he did take you to that brothel and just left you there. And now he’s back after what? twenty years and you still think he has his eyes on you?” Rhaella’s jabs stung the elder. Her words were like knives to her heart.

“And what do you suppose? That he’s got eyes for you now?” Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow at the younger. A small smirk forms on Rhaella’s lips, “Time will tell” “Don’t tell me you like Daemon, Rhaella. You just practically met him!” Rhaenyra’s voice loudens. To piss her even more, Rhaella simply shrugged with a playful smile.

“Daemon would make a dutiful Husband wouldn’t he? All that experience and….. well you know. Plus, mother has been pestering me about marriage. What better way to honour her wishes of me staying close to home then marrying our deal uncle?” Rhaenyra scoffs at her half-sister. “Daemon will never want you, you wouldn’t even dare to approach him with those silly intentions-“

Rhaella stands up and storms to her older, and still slightly taller, sister. “Watch me dear sister. Watch me marry Daemon in our old valyrian ways and bear his children. Watch me live a life you only ever got to dream of.” She calmy says yet still, venom laced her words.

Rhaenyra stood still in shock at her sister’s words before opening her mouth, “You are a horrid person.” She said through gritted teeth. Rhaella only wickedly smiles before turning around and walking off. As soon as the door slammed shut, Rhaenyra grabbed the closest object which was a vase and aimed it at the door, shards flying everywhere.

Rhaella stood outside the door with a proud smirk on her face. It was finally time to put her older sister into her own place. She walked through the hallways of her home before she bumped into something hard. “Watch where-“ Rhaella shuts her mouth as she’s met with his figure. “you’re going..” She trails as he smiles at her.

“Rhaenyra is still in her bedchambers” She mumbles massaging her head. Before she could move to the side to leave, he takes ahold of her forearm. “It is not your sister I wish to see but you, princess”

“What could you possibly want to see me for, uncle?” She spoke, her arms folded and her head slightly tilted. “Am I not allowed to spend some time with my niece? After all, I know nothing of you” He says, his eyes wandering nowhere near her face.

Rhaella smirked. She hummed before replying. “I’ve always wanted to her your stories come from you, and more possibly-“ She was cut off by him, “You’ve heard about me and my stories?” He questions.

Rhaella playfully rolls her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself uncle, your stories are the only entertaining thing to listen to around here” She chuckles. Daemon laughs, “Might you like to accompany Caraxes and I for a ride?” He suggests with smug smile.

1 month later…

“Where’s Daemon and Rhaella?” Rhaenyra looks around the table noticing their absent once again at the breakfast table. “Didn’t you hear, sister? Daemon’s taking Rhaella to Dragonstone today for a few months” Halaena says with a sweet smile as Rhaenyra’s jaw hangs open.

“D-Daemon’s taking Rhaella away? To Dragonstone?” She stutters as she processes what was happening. Dragonstone was supposed to be for her and Daemons. Not Rhaellas’.

“Why hasn’t anyone thought to tell me this?” She bangs her hand on the table in frustration. “I didn’t think it would concern you Princess, The Prince and Princess simply want to get to know each other more” Alicent speaks up.

“Get to know each other more? I don’t see why they can’t do that here, why must they be at Dragonstone. Father! Did you approve of this?” She looks to Viserys in disbelief. “My child, these are Daemon’s wishes. And besides, it is finally time that Rhaella chooses a Husband”

“A husband.” The princess scoffs as everyone on the table watch her, anticipating what was going to happen next. “I wanted Daemon to be my husband at her age and what did you do?! You banished him! Why does my whore of a sister get to do what ever she pleases!” Rhaenyra stands up in her seat as does Alicent. They could have sworn they saw steam leave her ears.

“How dare you call your sister that!” Viserys too stands up and hits his hand on the table loudly. “Rhaella is of age and you were not. You were the heir at the time and choosing Daemon as King consort? The realm would have been up in flames by now! My daughter. Your sister! Needs a husband sooner than later. Daemon is content with his position. Those twenty years where ever he was did him some good. Rhaella needs someone like him to confide to”

Viserys sits back down with a sigh, Rhaenyra only stood there in disbelief, shock and hatred for her half sister. Without uttering another word, she excused herself from the table and left. “She’s lost her mind” Alicent shakes her head.

Rhaenyra stormed out of the castle and into the dragon pit. She immediately paused as she witnessed Rhaella and Daemon in each other’s arms as they pat Caraxes. Rhaenyra was never able to do that the blood wyrm, he just never seemed to accept her. But Rhaella on the other hand.

Before she was could storm closer to the two a voice stops her. “Depriving your own sister of happiness?” Otto tempts her, “Just look at how happy they look with each other. I’ve never seen Daemon smile so much, have you?”

“He smiled plenty with me before” She mutters. “Ah there it is, before.” Rhaenyra glares at Otto. “Before he liked you, now he wishes to runaway with my granddaughter and marry her.” “H-he’s not marrying her” She chuckles to herself.

“Oh but he is my dear, he even asked for the King and Queen’s blessing. Your sister, much more youthful, smarter-“ “What are you trying to do?” The princess says desperately, “Stay away from them. Your sister is perfect for him and deserves happiness. Don’t let that childish dream of yours get into the road of them being happy. He’s obviously moved on and so should you Princess” Otto sternly speaks as the two of them look to the couple.

“I lost him once. Now I just lost him again,” The Princess shed a tear as she watched her half-sister get everything she ever hoped and dreamed of.

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the-daydreaming-show · 15 days

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Concept/Sneak Peek: Aegon II Targaryen x OlderSister!Reader.

“Do you love me?” Aegon asked in a tearful whisper. He looked angelic, in his white pajamas and his violet eyes filled with tears that refused to fall but were clearly there. The question had come out of nowhere, but you still answered it without any hesitation.

“Of course I love you, Aegon,” you told him, whispering back and making him feel like it was just you and him in the world. He looked at you surprised, perhaps a little relieved, and a tear slid down his cheek. “You are my brother, my blood. I love the bones off you, husband.”

The need struck Aegon suddenly, just with that, and he began to pray in his mind to the gods that you would take his offer. Well, now he did not want for anything in the world that his mother would fulfill her mission and annul your marriage. There was nothing more in the world than he wanted to stay by your side for the rest of his life, now he understood that.

Where you, the youngest daughter of Aemma and Viserys, married Aegon, the eldest son of Alicent Hightower, after the incident of the eye of Aemond in Driftmark. Years after your marriage, you fulfill your duty as Hand of the King. Since no children have been born from you union, your stepmother plans to request the annulment of your marriage, to marry Aegon to a daughter of the Baratheon. This is to ensure the support of that house when Viserys dies.

Aegon, who has enjoyed suffocating freedom since he married you when he was only fourteen, doesn't want that, and for the wrong reasons. He resigns himself to doing his duty in order to remain free, you two need a child, but he finds himself with something much better than freedom: a life tied to you.

(Let me know if you're interested in a fanfic like this, I could make it a series, because I love the concept, but I don't know.

Edit: Let me know if you want to be tag in the the post)

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gulnarsultan · 5 months

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Hii, how are you doing?

Can i ask for yandere aemond and yandere alicent with a maid reader, he is in love with her in his own way but she is scared of him and alicent see her as a daughter.

Sweet thing. You had just arrived at the red castle. You came to Queen Alicent's attention by chance. You were secretly feeding the kitten you found in the garden. What you didn't know was that Alicent was watching you. You reminded her of his own youth. She felt a burning fire igniting within her to protect you. That's why you were quickly appointed as her special bridesmaid. Alicent had never wanted to marry Viserys. She loved his children but could not fully bond with them. She had always wished to have a child who looked like her. You had the same hair color and the same eye color as her. Alicent had begun to see you as the daughter she never gave birth to. She was giving you beautiful dresses and jewels. You were staying in a beautiful room and eating the best food. At first it bothered you how much the Queen had to offer you. You soon stopped resisting the Queen. Queen Alicent wasn't the only one who developed an obsession with you. Prince Aemond also fell obsessively in love with this sweet maid. It was true, Aemond, he scares you. Actually, Aemond's missing eye or a band-aid doesn't scare you. It's just that his strange behavior bothers you. Whenever you are alone with Queen Alicent, Aemond comes to visit and never leaves your side. Indeed, Aemond knew that you were afraid of him. This situation hurts him very much. Aemond will do his best to fix this situation.

#hotd x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #yandere male #yandere female #yandere #yandere game of thrones

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elegantsplendour · 10 months

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Love Is A Downfall

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3? | Epilogue

Summary:

One girl, two dragons.

Bound to one, attached to an another.

Love is the most powerful form of magic.

Love is the fuel that leads to destruction.

Fear leads of anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Pairing 💕 : Aemond Targaryen x !Redwyne reader x Aegon II Targaryen

Warnings / contains in this part: smut, fluff, 3some, some violence and gore, slight angst, green biased pov.

Word count: 5k

Ps: Would love to see your comments 💗

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @aemondx @theroyaldixon @heavenly1927

Other friends: @purple-writer8 @boundlessfantasy @qyburnsghost @lovelykhaleesiii @snh96 @amiraisgoingthruit @arcielee @chompchompluke @godrakin ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶　　　　　　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

“Tell me what you see, Aemond,” she gasped for air as another deep and hard thrust drove her closer to the brink of ecstasy, “I want to hear it.”

Aemond chuckled, squeezing her backside possessively before whispering in her ears, “I see your body, flushed and glistening with sweat," he began, his hot breath teasing her, “Your back arched, offering yourself to me.”

He left a delicious mark on the fragile skin of her neck, “I see the curve of your hips, the smoothness of your skin. Your beautiful bottom bouncing on my cock as I slam into you, claiming you as mine, again and again.”

Aemond grasped a strand of her silky hair gently as she whimpered tantalizingly, “I love you.”

Just he was about to lean down and kiss her, his brother’s voice, filled with amusement, echoed the room, “How adorable. She’s never told me that even I am her husband to be.”

Aemond growled in frustration at the interruption while the little figure under him giggled, “Shut up, Aeg. You know I love you both, just in different ways.”

Aemond turned her head roughly for a feverish kiss, “I love you,” he smirked at Aegon and bit her earlobe and teased, “My Queen.”

Aegon tensed as he closed the distance between them and tilted her bouncing chin caused by his brother’s forceful pounding, “You say you love me? My lustful betrothed?”

Aegon explored her mouth with his tongue meticulously.

He loved her too, but not the way Aemond did.

“Then take me in your mouth,” Aegon commanded, petting her hair tenderly.

Aemond glared at him ferociously at the provocative grin. He had no choice but to tolerate this.

She was too kind, too caring, too selfless, too innocent, well not exactly, to refuse either of them.

Aemond often cursed the gods for gifting Aegon such a soul.

Her mother, Erya Redwyne, childhood friend of Queen Alicent, brought her into the world the same day Aegon was born at the cost of her own life.

As the joyous cries of the two infants echoed through the Red Keep like a hopeful symphony, their fate was sealed.

Queen Alicent often jested about how Aegon used to steal her favorite toys in the nursery, causing the angelic young girl to cry.

Yet over the years, of all the responsibilities Aegon failed in, she remained the only exception.

Aemond could remember one instant after Aegon’s cruel taunts on his bastard nephews and him, his demeanor immediately changed as he welcomed her on piggyback.

Seven Years Ago

“You are so cruel! Let me down, Aegon!!” She protested yet her giggles pleaded otherwise.

“Why? I think I enjoy tormenting a young lady like you than my stoic brother,” Aegon grinned, his hands steadily on her calves while swirling her wildly.

Jace and Luke laughed while Aemond watched, a bizarre sensation burning in his stomach.

She seemed to have sensed his gaze and jumped off of Aegon without warning.

Aemond’s eyes widened as she, a head taller than him at the time, enclosed him in a tight embrace, “Your brother had been cruel to you again, hasn’t he? My sweet Aemond?” She leaned down and squeezed his cheeks, leaving the older brother whine in annoyance, “You could’ve fallen on the sharp stones and leave an ugly scar on your legs,” Aegon narrowed his eyes at the sight of his girl comforting his brother, “And your future lord husband will close his eyes while he beds you.”

She looked at Aegon unbelievably with hurt, anger and embarrassment.

“Let’s go,” she took the young prince’s small hands and left the training yard.

Aemond slightly raised his head and caught glimpse of diamond like drops forming in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

And he knew why. The last time she cried, Aegon had called her an insolent ladybug.

Aemond, although young and small, spoke courteously, hoping to ease her sadness, “My lady, you are beautiful. Your grace far surpasses the mere allure of your physical beauty. You have a kind, and compassionate heart,” he swallowed, trying to look her in the eyes but failed as he returned his gaze on the ground, “I am thankful to have you in my life. Your future lord husband, no matter who he might be,” Aemond’s voice caught in his throat, he knew who she would eventually belong to, “Would be lucky to have you.”

But what he truly meant was, “I wish to have you as Aegon does.”

Surely, Aemond didn’t know what his wish signified. Until Driftmark. Or better. Until he found them pleasuring each other in his brother’s chamber.

But that was another story.

Aemond groaned as his felt his release approached. He bent down, squeezing her breasts, and whispered, “You ok, love? I am going to spill into you.”

Her nods were barely recognizable as Aegon buried her head mercilessly towards his hardened cock.

Aemond wanted to murder him.

If not for his gesture of tenderness.

Aegon slowed his pace and stroke her hair softly, looking at her for assurance.

She blinked at Aegon with mischief.

Of course, that, Aemond didn’t see.

After a deliciously short moment filled with moans, growls and screams of pleasure, they collapsed on the bed.

Aemond didn’t wait for an instant to envelop her in his arms before Aegon had the chance.

He pressed a kiss on her crown, murmuring sweet nothings to her ears, and caressed the deep and permanent scar on her left thigh over and over again.

Six Years Ago

“You really think that I should?” Aemond asked hesitantly.

“Of course you should!” She furrowed her brows, “A dragon is not property, not a heirloom to be passed on!”

Aemond lowered his head and smiled. Nothing could have made him stronger than to have her by his side.

Though, as the sea wind washed over their faces, she squeezed his hand anxiously, “But, I am scared if… if anything happens. You know, the dragons are-”

“Unpredictable,” Aemond nodded, “Even Targaryens may not be exceptions from their wrath.”

He reached out his hand and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ears, exposing her delicate features in all its beauty.

He had grown taller.

Almost as tall as her.

He noticed, secretly smirking in his mind.

“I’ll be there with you,” she declared.

Sensing his widened eyes and worries, she sealed his unspoken words with her finger, “And don’t you tell me what you to do! Little Aemond!”

Aemond breathed in annoyance as he rolled his eyes.

One day, he will be her equal.

He will be the fiercest warrior, a Targaryen that people sing ballads about for centuries, the best dragon rider of his generation, if not of any generation.

He will become her protector.

“Stay here!” He ordered under the dimly moonlight lit beach. It was the first time he spoke to her with such authority.

It felt good, Aemond admitted it, not the control he exercised on her, but the fact that he knew that he was protecting her from harm.

“Aem,” she reached out his arm desperately before letting go, “Be careful. I’ll come to you if anything happens.”

Aemond stood stunned momentarily. He cupped her cheeks and promised full of conviction, “I will come back just fine. More than fine. I will become the rider of the largest dragon in the world. You will be the first one I rider her with. We’ll fly across the Narrow Sea, visit Pentos, Bravoos, Lys. We will be the rulers of the sky.”

She smiled faintly and leaned into his touch, “I’ve never had more faith in anyone, at any moment, than I do to you, right now. Go, Aemond Targaryen. Claim her. I know you can.”

She watched his distancing figure with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

Aemond desired more than what he was handed to him.

He will never be satisfied.

He would not himself without his thirst for the world.

She loved him, though she didn’t fully understand what that word meant. It was different from what she felt for Aegon.

But she was sure of it, no matter what, she would follow him.

For what seemed like an eternity for her,

Aemond’s cries of raw excitement, exhilaration, and rush of adrenaline flowing his veins mixed with her cheers of pure pride and joy.

The green beast left out an equally ferocious roar, as if she shared his rider’s overwhelming emotions.

As the two rushed back into the castle, sand and joy written over their faces, they were fretted with five accusing figures, demanding for justice, she had anticipated. But she was wrong. They demanded for blood.

“It’s them!” The younger sister pointed at Aemond.

“It’s me,” Aemond held her hands confidently. He was no longer the dragonless spare, the little boy who needed her protection.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon,” Rhaena protested.

Before the girl beside him could retort, Aemond spat back, “Your mother’s dead and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim,” the younger sister clenched her fists.

Perhaps it was the allure of his newly claimed power, or it was truly his true nature emerging, Aemond tilted his head provocatively, “Then you should’ve claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Her tangled hands stretched his arms, her eyes stared at him with disbelief, “Aem, don’t say that,” she whispered urgently.

Aemond clenched his jaw as he recognized the look on her face. It was the same one when his brother made that cruel jest.

They stared at each other for a short moment, forgetting the rival tension rising in the air.

The confused peace was brutally shattered as Rhaena’s punch landed on Aemond’s nose.

Caught off guard fleetingly, Aemond’s fury unleashed itself as another punch from Baela Targaryen on her.

With a burst of strength, he pushed the two sisters on the cold ground and tugged her into his arms, “Come at her again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

The next blow came from Jace, jumping on him with a rain of strikes, followed by Luke and the two sisters.

Yet she didn’t hold back. Aemond had never witnessed this side of her. Being slightly older than the Targaryen-Velaryon sisters, she held a slight advantage as she grabbed Baela’s hair violently and threw her on the floor.

Rhaena soon came to help of her sister, the three of them engaged in a savage dance of violence.

There was a fire in her that was unleashed, untamed and primal.

“You cowards!” She seethed while pinning Rhaena on the ground, “A dragon is not a slave. The dragon chooses its rider and she chose Aemond! Get your empty heads over it.”

Aemond, fueled by her words, twisted Jace’s fist directed at him toward towards his own chest with a taunting smirk, making him cry out in pain before kicking him on the ground.

With a swift move, he seized Luke’s neck and a rock in his hand.

“You will die screaming just like your father did,” Aemond sneered, “Bastards.”

“My father is still alive!” The small boy gasped for air.

“He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong?”Aemond chuckled, glaring at Jace, then at her, like a lion conquering a new terrain, declaring its victory and superiority, not only to instill fear into its opposing beasts, but also to impress the lioness.

As Aemond embraced the rush of victory and lowered down the rock, a shining dagger rose of Jace’s hand went unnoticed.

“Aem- Watch out!” She shrieked, capturing Jace’s hand with all her strength.

Everything blurred in Aemond’s eyes as his nephew growled and cut deep her thighs, a stream of blood bursting out of her flesh.

He rushed to her side and tried to cover the blood loss, but it was no use. The wound was too deep and in a critical place. She looked up at him in confusion and fear, her teeth trembled at the shade of deep red.

“You will pay for this!” He gritted his teeth, reseizing the rock before shoved Jace viciously on the floor.

Baela and Rhaena, shocked by the unseen rage of their cousin, stepped back.

“Aemond, we’ve won! Step down now!” She cried, her face mingling with tears of fear and blood from her open wound.

His gaze softened, hand lowering down the weapon.

He wished to carry her into his arms to the maesters.

How fate had an ironic twist.

Everything went scarlet and black as the ravaging pain cut through his left eye.

Aemond curled into a ball on the floor. His shrieks of pain mingling with her screams of horror tormented him like a giant bell ringing ringing in his head.

She jumped on his nephew, “You little rat! I will kill you!”

He heard Luke’s screams of help, Jace’s and her growls as they wrestled on the ground, trashing and pummeling each other.

Seconds slipped away, Aemond could do nothing but grapple in agony.

His lost eye continued to flow streams of blood while the other was forced to watch Jacaerys’ training in swordsmanship overpowering her advantage in height, her being chocked helplessly on the cold ground.

Their gaze locked.

She looked at him with despair.

Sorry. Her eyes told him. I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you.

In that l moment, a solemn vow crystallized within him - he pledged to do whatever it took to shield them both from ever enduring such depths of despair again. He would seize the future in his hands, defying even the gods if need be, to bestow upon her nothing but hope and joy.

The next thing he remembered was Ser Harrold Westerling dragging Jace from delivering another slap on her face.

Her thigh continued to ooze a ghastly flow of unstemmed blood.

She lost her conscience as the knight pulled Aemond from the ground.

With every fiber of his being aflame, he unleashed a torrent of hysterical screams, as though his desperate calls possessed the power to wrench her from the clutches of the Stranger, to defy the realms of the departed, and reunite her with the realm of the living, with him.

Both of them were brought to the maesters. Aemond’s teeth sank into each other, his fingers digging into his flesh at the piercing pain as the maester retreated his broken eye and wove his scar.

And she was there, lying peacefully as if she had fallen into a slumber, unaware of the healer’s hands on her flesh.

“It would heal, will it not, maester?” Alicent’s trembled as she asked.

Reminded by his mother, Aegon demanded with equal urgency at the maester treating the flesh of her thighs, “It will heal. Right?”

“The lady has lost considerable amount of blood, my prince.

The older prince felt hot tears swollen with hot tears.

He gently caressed her cheeks.

She was his responsibility and he failed her.

“The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

“The flesh will heal, but the scar is permanent, my prince.”

Aemond watched his mother striking his brother on the face, “Where were you?”

“This,” Alicent spat furiously, “Is nothing compared to the abuse your brother and betrothed suffered when you were drowning in your cups, you fool!”

Aegon bit his lips, turning his head from his mother as he forced his tears back.

Alicent was right. He had indulged himself again, yet it was because his betrothed distanced herself from him ever since that jest in the training yard. He was such a coward, Aegon cursed himself, why couldn’t he just apologize?

If he had excused himself, he wouldn’t have been drown in cups, he would’ve been by her side, she wouldn’t have laid unconscious, Aemond wouldn’t have lost his eye.

The rest of that fateful night concluded in accusations and turmoils.

The agony of the sight of her fragile form and his wound prevented from memorizing everything about that fateful night of accusations and turmoils, but there was one thing etched into his memories.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves,” Rhaenyra pushed her children behind her, “Vile insults were levied against them. The legitimacy of my sons’ birth has been put into question. This is the highest of treason, Your Grace. Prince Aemond and Lady Redwyne must be sharped questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent shook her head in disbelief, “My son has lost and eye!” She pointed her finger at the girl in slumber, “And she! She is Erya’s daughter!” Alicent exclaimed, “You would torture Erya’s daughter?!”

Silence was the princess’ answer. It was obvious that the queen’s attempt at recalling the memory of their deceased best friend was at no avail.

“You won’t touch her!” Aegon stood before her, his violet eyes blazing with an unprecedented fire.

“No one is to be tortured, boy,” the old king glanced at his eldest son and approached Aemond, “You tell me. Where did you hear such slanders?”

Aemond faced the broken old man he had been forced to call father and king head on. He looked at Alicent, then at Rhaenyra, Daemon,

Aegon, then, at her.

“It was Aegon,” he said.

“Me?”

“And you! Boy! Where did you hear such slanders?”

Aegon took a deep breath, averting his gaze on the floor, seeking to appear as clueless as possible, “Everybody knows, father. Just… Look at them.”

As the room fell into a haunting silence, Aemond and Aegon exchanged a look.

They hadn’t wanted to be a part of this fight, but their half-sister had forced their hand.

She had just threatened their everything, her.

Now, they would play ruthlessly together.

Present day

“Aem,” she purred, nestling in his chest.

Chuckling, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her with utmost adoration. She slowly rolled herself on top of him, her soft breast lied flat on his stomach and her ears pressed against his racing heart.

“Can I hold you?”

After gods know much time, Aegon asked with a hint of longing and jealousy.

She twinkled, sneaking a peck on Aemond’s cheek before accepting Aegon’s invitation.

Even tugged in Aegon’s embrace, she gazed back at Aemond with uncertainty.

With a mild smile and nod, she giggled and wrapped her arms around her betrothed with any reservation.

Did Aemond mind sharing her with his brother, the soon king to be?

The fuck yes.

Yet the One-Eyed Prince would do anything for the future queen of Seven Kingdoms.

The story how Rhaenyra gave up her claim on the Iron Throne was one both brothers, especially Aegon, was proud of.

It didn’t take much other than hiring a few pirates across the Narrow Sea to kidnap the Realm’s Delight and the Rogue Prince’s first born son to force her hand.

And…

A few more drops of herbs in the milk of poppy their father consumed daily, and an edict composed of, or deadly similar to, King Viserys’ handwriting.

Aemond kept watching the sight before him. Her fingers trailed on his brother’s chest. She leaned in to murmur something audible only to Aegon, who smirked and captured her lips into a passionate kiss before hovering her pliant body under him.

He diverted his gaze.

Seven Moons Ago

The first time he had seen them in such intimacy was on his seventeenth name day. The prince refused to display it, but butterflies burnt in his stomach as he replayed the anticipating whispers of her promises of an unforgettable gift. Curiosity reigned his mind as he strolled the Red Keep to the library, a sanctuary he would most likely to find her in.

Yet the spectacle before him made his world crumble down.

She looked like an exquisite doll at his brother’s mercy, his one hand exploring her forbidden forest while the other massaging her soft breast.

“Aeg, please,” she whimpered, grinding her core to the magic of his hand.

“Please what, my little betrothed,” Aegon whispered seductively while trailing a series of kisses down her neck, “For me not to stop? Squeeze your breasts harder? Or spank you over my knees for being such a lustful maiden? You’ll have to be specific.”

“All. Everything, please,” she arched her back, offering herself to him, exposing her neck while letting head fall backwards.

And that’s how she caught glimpse of Aemond.

“Aemond!”

She screamed. Her face flushed. Guilt and apology all over her features.

“It… it isn’t what it looks like.”

Aegon chortled at his brother’s murdering look, “Calm down, Aemond. It’s my duty to satisfy my betrothed’s unfulfilled desires in-“ he taunted, “Ways that violate the codes of propriety the least.”

Aemond breathed, his nostrils observably widened with fury, “Indeed, I will leave you to it,” he returned his gaze to her, his tone grave and devoid of emotions, “Enjoy yourself, my lady.”

Storming off from the library, Aemond felt disgusting liquids forming in his good eye while an excruciating ache formed in his sapphire eye where his lost eye used to be.

Urgent footsteps and her calling echoing behind him only urged him to stroll faster.

“Aemond! Please, let me explain!” She pressed her hand on his closing door desperately.

He didn’t respond. She was Aegon’s betrothed, destined to be his the moment she stepped into the world . He had only been a foolish, jealous and pathetic little boy hoping one day she could love him. However, despite every fiber of his being telling him that she had nothing to apologize for, he couldn’t help but to feel betrayed.

It was his name day, yet it felt like the most precious thing in his life had been ripped away from his heart.

“I am sorry,” her lips trembled.

“Why?” He tilted her chin, making her look him straight in the eye. He longed for her answer. He thirsted for the truth. Behind his commanding voice, Aemond Targaryen’s heart begged her to give him the very answer he craved, even if it knew it was wrong.

“I…” she opened her mouth, trying to find the right words.

“Tell me,” he stepped closer, “Is it because you know that my heart races every time I find you in proximity? That I have to force myself to divert my gaze every time Aegon has you in his arms? That every second of my life had been an excruciating torment, always desiring things and people that I can never have?”

Her eyes opened wide with shock and dilemma. She reached her hand to touch his cheek, “Some of it, perhaps,” she answered, her voice barely than s whisper, “But above all, because, because…”

He was convinced she bit her tongue out of nervousness.

“Because what?” Aemond demanded, his grip on her shoulders almost inciting pain.

“Because I love you.”

“What?” His voice almost a growl.

“I love you. I. Love. You,” she declared, tears swelling in her eyes, “I’ve always loved you.”

“And do you love him?” He shut the door abruptly, saving them both from the prying eyes, before cornering her on the wall like an wolf ready to devour a sheep.

Biting her lips, she spoke again, “I do.”

She grabbed his hand as if she was scared that he would walk away, “But you don’t understand, Aemond. He… he’s been with me since I was born. We cried together, mumbled our first words to each other. Aegon,” she hardened her resolve, “He is a part of me.”

To her surprise, Aemond pressed his forehead on hers, their lips only inches apart, “Do you love him like you love me? As much as you love me?”

A profound silence enveloped them.

“No.”

It was all it took for Aemond to crash on her lips.

Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies like like two starving migrants caught sight of honey on another.

As they gasped for breath, she slowly slipped her gown off and pressed her flesh against him, “I had a present for you, my prince. But I think you would prefer this gift.”

The prince’s movement froze at her offer.

It was too unreal. Too wrong yet too tempting.

“Has he?”

She understood the question and shook her head.

“Are you sure? Once we go down this path, there is no going back,” Aemond held the back of her neck tenderly, his one eye searching for any sign of hesitation.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life than right now, with you.”

“I’ve never had more faith in anyone, at any moment, than I do to you, right now. Go, Aemond Targaryen. Claim her. I know you can.”

The bittersweet flashback at Driftmark, when he was still whole, was all he needed for assurance.

She wrapped her arms around Aemond’s lean yet muscular shoulders as he carried her to the bed.

“I want to see you, all of you.”

With Aemond’s hands quivered, she took the initiative and slowly removed the barrier between them.

“I love you,” she murmured as she kissed the scar that lined the prince’s sapphire eye.

Aemond smirked as he traced his kisses in an agonizing pace to the centre of her core, “Let me show you how much I love you, my queen.”

She moaned at the title that she was soon to bear, a shameful yet arousing reminder of the betrayal against her betrothed, the man with whom she came to this world together.

Aemond took time particularly at the scar on her left thigh, savouring every imperfection with his tongue.

“Aem! Watch out!”

The image of Jacaerys’ blade cutting sliced through her perfect skin still gnawed his spirit.

“I should’ve killed him for what he did to you,” Aemond kissed her flesh possessively.

A light chuckle came from her mouth, “And now, you can. Aemond Targaryen,” she stretched out her fingers and teased the prince’s rarely messy hair, “But he is not worth our time.”

Her words were cut off by a loud moan as Aemond inserted a finger inside her while pressing his thumb on her pearl.

“Is that how he touched you?” He groaned, “Does he make you feel like this?” Aemond grinned before using one hand to to make her straddle him, the other squeezing her round bottom, eliciting another moan from her lips.

“Not like you do, Aem,” she kissed him hungrily, eagerly grinding and teasing his hardened length, “Take me now. I am ready. Just,” she swallowed, “Be gentle.“

“Hmm,” he kissed along her collarbones, “I’ve never been good at gentle, but I’ll do my best for you. Always,” he pressed another kiss on her cheek, “I’ll do anything for you.”

With that, Aemond gently lifted her hips, allowing her to adjust to his length at her own rhythm.

Taking him fully, he sensed her body wince at the discomfort, her nails plunging into the flesh of his shoulders, her head buried behind his back.

“We can stop, love,” the prince wiped away a tear from her cheek caused by the pain.

“No,” she smiled, the trace of liquid still apparent on her skin, “I want you, I am sure of it.”

The two of them moved delicately, melting the unspoken and forbidden tension built between them like snow under the sun.

The initial winces of pain transformed quickly into soft whimpers of pleasure and light giggles.

“Do I bring you pleasure, love?” His voice laced with tenderness, “For your pleasure is my utmost desire.”

She laughed softly and met his stroke eagerly, “What do you think, my sweet Aemond?”

She then started leaving kisses on the top of his head, his hair, messing his silver lock with an insatiable appetite.

“My Queen,” he groaned, “I’m close.”

With a smirk, she took control and pinned his hands above his head, “Me too, my sweet prince.”

Although Aemond One-Eye rejoiced his Queen’s vigor, the blood of the dragon runs hotter than the blood of Redwyne.

He flipped over roughly on her back and replunged himself inside her.

“Gods, Aem,” she whined, “Fuck me like the dragon you are.”

Aemond’s breath hitched, his laughter filled the room, “I will fuck you until you forget your own name, my precious,” he whispered in her ears before slamming his hips into hers with all his might.

As the sinful slapping and screams of pleasure transformed the room into a sanctuary isolated from the rest of the world, the two collapsed on one another.

“Moon tea, then?” She asked softly.

“Moon tea,” he nodded, “for now.”

They stayed entangled in each other for quite a while. Thoughts swarmed through his mind like a hive of bees.

He took her maidenhead.

He, Aemond Targaryen, took her maidenhead.

She, Aegon’s promised, loved him.

She loved them both.

How could this story conclude happily?

Aemond forced out the few dark possibilities that crossed over his mind.

At least, he couldn’t possibly do that to her.

She seemed to have sensed his worries and kissed his forehead, “I’ll find a way, I promise.”

That’s how the three ended up here.

A week after their first passionate encounter, they found themselves giving into their desires again in the secrecy of Aemond’s chamber.

This time, Aegon burst in with a smug face.

“Mind if I join you?”

Aemond’s throat burnt with rage and embarrassment, “Get out.”

The older brother shrugged and did the opposite, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ears, “We tell each other everything, Aemond. I’ve known that she loved you for quite a while now.”

Do you know that she loves me more?

He wanted to throw that question onto his brother’s face, but he didn’t, for her sake.

Seeing Aemond’s clenching fists, Aegon moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck, “I would do anything for her. I wouldn’t let her lose anything or anyone she loves, wouldn’t you, brother?”

She slowly reached Aemond’s hand hesitantly, “Are you mad at me, Aem?”

“No,” he cupped her cheeks, “Never at you, love.

Two sides fought brutally in the battlefield of Aemond Targaryen’s head.

One side lured him to rip off his brother’s head off.

The other side urged him to accept offer.

He chose the second option.

Present day

The inky night enveloped the sky at the hour of the Wolf.

The two brothers turned over and found the space between them empty.

She stood in solitude under the moon, her hair cascading down, her body enrobed by nothing but an almost transparent night gown.

A goddess.

They both thought.

“What are your thinking about, love?” Aegon left a feather light kiss on her neck.

She smiled and turned around to face them, “It’s a fortnight until the wedding and coronation.”

Aemond’s figure tensed.

“So many things are about to change. So many new responsibilities,” she sighed, drifting her gaze to the centre of King’s Landing, where undercurrents surges even in the darkest of nights.

“This,” she lowered her head, “Can’t continue. At least, not like this.”

Aemond’s heartbeat raced at her declaration.

She couldn’t abandon him.

She couldn’t.

Her chuckle slightly released his tension as she leaned into his chest.

“What she means is that we can’t lay together anymore,” Aegon clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice, “Relax yourself, brother. She’d never let you go.”

Aemond smiled faintly as he carried her back to bed. They were right. Although the moon tea had served as a temporary solution for their indiscretion, its effectiveness had been limited. Once a child was conceived under the scandalous circumstances, it would be impossible to know who the father was.

She grinned softly before drifting to sleep, “You are both going to be fathers. So get rid of your childishness, especially you, Aeg.”

As two of them fell into a delicious slumber, Aemond stared at the ceiling alone, contemplating the possibilities of the future.

It seemed like everything was falling into place.

Rhaenyra’s claim destroyed.

Aegon finally starting to take interests in his responsibilities.

Her declaring that she loved him, even more than his brother.

Them finding a way for their love to co-exist.

Despite all the signs of peace, Aemond couldn’t help but to have a lingering impression that it was the calm before the storm.

Author’s note: Team Aem or team aeg? Lemme know your thoughts.😚

Whispering, hinting: enjoy part 1 while you can ;) 🥺

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vhagarsback · 2 years

Text

bad and pervert aemond headcanons

warnings: smut, creampie, mentions of anal sex, possessive aemond

Although I do think his brother is way worse, Aemond is far from being a good guy.

You would be his mother's servant, on Alicent's orders following her around the castle in case she needed any help.

The problem was her son.

Aemond's presence followed you, the long blond hair being recognizable even when he tried to go unnoticed.

The first time you exchanged a word with him was in Alicent's room, you were just finishing making the bed when you felt slender fingers toying with the strands of hair on the back of your neck.

"I don't know why my mother doesn't give you better clothes." The words seemed like an excuse to lower his hands to your back, examining your body and the fabric closely.

You were paralyzed, afraid of what the unpredictable prince would do.

"You are terrified." Aemond was smiling. An evil, malicious smile.

His hands stopped at your waist and your throat closed, timid and nervous. Aemond suddenly stopped and removed his hands from your body, leaving the room in quick steps.

You never understood what had happened, but you knew that after that moment Aemond's actions were even more risky, even bolder.

Aemond made all the possible excuses for you to come to his room instead of taking care of Alicent. He said that no maid did the job properly, and that only you catered to his tastes.

His mother, tired, sent you to his chambers.

Aemond would call you in the middle of the night, claiming it was an emergency, but the truth was that the silky nightgowns left your nipples and skin exposed, and it was easier to see your panties when you were distracted doing your work.

He enjoyed watching you, squeezing your ass when you were busy, and hugging you from behind for you to feel his cock at the end of your back.

He insisted that Alicent let you sit at the table at family dinners, telling her mother that he wanted the servants to feel at ease.

In reality he wanted to squeeze your thighs under the table, make you dine while having two fingers stuffing your pussy.

Aemond always made you cum for the satisfaction of embarrassing you, of making you look at his mother with wet panties and swollen nipples.

Aemond whispered dirty words to you every chance he got, telling you how much he wanted to fuck bastards into you, how much he wanted your lips on his cock, how he touched himself thinking of you on all fours.

He'd pound your pussy and call you a whore all night and when you were done he'd sit in front of the fireplace to read, you on your knees beside him while he stroked your hair.

When he noticed that Aegon was looking at you too much, he would start sending subtle hints that you were not available.

He would put his arms around your waist, leaving kisses on your neck, waiting for you to turn around to slap your ass and smile at his brother with a challenging look on his face.

If that didn't work, he would send you to Aegon's room with his cum running down your legs, all your holes used by Aemond.

"If you even think about another man I will know." Aemond groaned in your ear as his cock fucked your ass mercilessly, your hair held firmly by the prince's hand so you would be in the position he wanted. The other hand on your clit, making you see stars.

Oblivious to Aemond's behavior, Alicent granted his request that you be his new personal maid, having to do his every wish until he got tired of you.

#female reader #game of thrones #got #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd smut #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #headcanon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aegon ii targaryen

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 month

Text

His Love

|Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Three

Masterlist of Series

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you woke up, she grimly realized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you wake...

***

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

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

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

But it wasn't a man...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Stranger."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Envy ran hot through her veins at the thought.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My love."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's dying."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist of Series

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

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

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divine-donna · 1 year

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Hi can I request headcanons for HOTD where they fall into their crush’s breast and what would their reactions be?

hi! of course you may. some of these might sound a little awkward? mostly because i feel like most of the characters would be a little more graceful. so for some of them it's not exactly falling and more like leaning into.

ser criston cole

ser criston was a man of grace. or so he would like to believe. in truth, he was a bit clumsy outside of battle. after all, the feet needed for battle was much different than the feet needed for dancing. today was a festival for the mother, a very important day for people who worshipped the seven. but it was especially important considering queen alicent’s ascension into unofficial power, acting in accordance to her husband. she was, after all, the mother of the realm. you invited ser criston to dance with you, which he found unacceptable. but alicent insisted he take the night off, have some fun. there were other kingsguard to make sure she was safe. and when he danced with you, he fumbled a bit. and somehow, after tripping over his own feet, he lands in your chest. you’ve never seen a man get so embarrassed and red, as if he was already drunk. he apologized profusely afterwards for his...accident, we’ll say.

“i...i am so sorry. my apologies (y/n). i didn’t mean to be...indecent. i greatly respect you and it was not my intention.”

daemon targaryen

daemon’s tired and exhausted after a long day of work. so when he comes to visit you in your room, you’re surprised to hear him say that he doesn’t want anything. things were not going his way and he placed a heftier pouch of coins than usual, telling you he just wanted your presence. you sit on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he strips down to his undershirt. and then, he approaches you, falling into your chest face first. you ask if he’s comfortable and he lets out a muffled response, which you interpretted as my brother is a thorn in my side. of course, daemon’s liked you for some time now. but he doesn’t feel anything but peace when he lays on you. he just sits there, basking in the comfort of your presence.

“my brother aims to be rid of me. but i see those men for who they truly are, especially the hand. alas, i do not want to talk politics. your chest is almost too comfortable.”

rhaenyra targaryen

not many people would choose to ride with the princess. but syrax was now big enough to fit two people and of course, rhaenyra asks you to ride with her. as someone sworn to protect her (secretly, of course, an oath you swore to queen aemma during her final days), you agreed to go with her. considering that you were the more sturdy of the two of you, you sat behind rhaenyra. syrax ascended into the sky and naturally, she leans back into you. but you fail to notice the way her cheeks dust pink, how she realizes that beneath her head at the moment is your chest. it’s almost too embarrassing for her, to be nestled between the chest of someone she cared about on a romantic level. by the time syrax levels out, she’s quiet with embarrassment which is unusual.

“i’m. ahem. i’m just fine (y/n). it’s a bit chillier up here than usual, which is to be expected since the seasons have begun to shift.”

alicent hightower

pregnancy was exhausting. of course it would be! her body was changing, organs being crushed against one another, her own bones being taken by her child. alicent just needed to lay down. she had been walking all day, somehow, without rest for her sore feet and aching muscles. she found you reading at the godswood, studying for your exam most likely. and she approaches you, asking about your day. of course, you’re taken by surprise. the queen after all is asking for you. she’s always asking for you it seems and you were blind to the fact that she desired you, wanted you. of course, her father’s agenda would not let her pursue you outside of secret meetings and subtle hints (which you did not get). seeing how lethargic she looked, you offered her to lay on you, as a buffer between her body and the rough wood. she was all too eager to take it, sitting down between your legs and laying back. it wasn’t until a few minutes later did she realize just where she had laid her head.

“i am perfectly fine (y/n)! thank you for your concern. i am just...tired. aegon is a boy with too much energy and i cannot keep up in this state.”

aegon targaryen

it’s not unlike him to be drunkenly wandering the red keep late into the hour. most people tend to shrug the prince off since this was common place. but you were surprised to see him open the door to your room and shut it behind him. aegon has this wide grin on his face. it wasn’t the sadistic kind of grin that you were used to seeing from him, but kind of...sad? and lovelorn. he mutters something as he crawls onto the bed and hugs you, burying his face deep within your chest. you let out a small sigh and run your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble to himself and fall asleep. he doesn’t even have a reaction in the morning when he wakes up, still in the same place. all he knows is that he likes you.

“the duties expected of a prince are too much. i wish to run away and drink only wine and ale and eat only bread. a life of luxury.”

aemond targaryen

you were very much a fighter. it was for that reason that aemond became obsessed with you. he wanted to best you in combat since he was a young boy. you always seemed to beat him. not this time. he has surpassed your skill level. and to be fair, the last time you saw him was years ago after his scar had finally healed up. he was a handsome young man and he had an obsession with you that reached deeper than just merely besting you. there had been rumors that you were to be with his older siblings (helaena or aegon, the details were fuzzy). and helaena quickly deduced from the way he talked about you that he was smitten. she teased him lightly of course and he denied it. but he couldn’t deny it that afternoon when he finally bested you, having you pinned to the ground and the side of a dagger pressing lightly against your skin. yield. is what he said before being kicked down. and falling into your chest. not squarely in the middle, a bit above it. but he feels it nonetheless and never have you seen a man move so quickly, getting off of you to throw something at his brother.

“helaena, it was a disaster. after all these years, i finally best (y/n) only for aegon to come ruin the moment. what do i do? what if (y/n) thinks i’m indecent and not a proper man?”

helaena targaryen

helaena just needed to reach for something that happened to be above you. she was conducting her own research and needed a book to refer to. you just happened to be there and she had already started reaching, getting on her tippy toes. it was then she leaned forward a bit too much and placing her face in your chest. you fail to notice how flustered she gets, only turning your head slightly to reach up and get the book she needed. thank the gods you were oblivious. she would probably collapse from embarrassment if she knew you saw how red she was.

“i am not sick aemond! i am healthy. something...happened in the library. with (y/n). and before you get angry and jump to conclusions, please let me explain.”

jacaerys velaryon

you have been seeing the prince for a while now. being on dragonstone was still surreal to you. nevertheless, the two of you spent a lot of time at the beaches of dragonstone, soaking in each other’s presence and enjoying each other’s banter. but you failed to notice the inkling of attraction developing in jace’s eyes whenever he looked at you. he always looked forward to seeing you. what happened was so sudden: he just tripped over something and you caught him, his face buried in your chest. his ears went bright red and you figured it was because jace, usually light on his feet, managed to trip over nothing (perhaps your own habits were rubbing off onto him). he apologizes afterwards and his ears deepen in color at your light teasing.

“it’s...it’s not that funny! someone could witness us and think the wrong thing!....of course i do not care what others think! i just worry...for you.”

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd headcanons #ser criston #aemond targaryen #aegon the usurper #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #helaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

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lilap20 · 5 months

Text

House of the Dragon Fanfiction: Updated Masterlist

Fanfiction House of the Dragon

Story of Princess Nymeria Targaryen second daughter of King Viserys I and his wife Lady Aemma.

Prologue : The Princess

Chapter One : The Meeting of eyes

Chapter Two : The festivities of the Stranger

Chapter Three : Heaven is where we meet at the foot of the Heart Tree. Part 1

Chapter Four: Heaven is where we meet at the foot of the Heart Tree. Part 2

Chapter Five: The Dragon's Descent into Winterfell.

Chapter Six: The Wedding.

Chapter Seven: The letter from King's Landing Part.1

Chapter Eight: The letter from King's Landing Part.2

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drakoneve · 7 months

Text

The Bookshelf

Game of Thrones

House of the Dragon

Sons of Anarchy

Mayans MC

The Walking Dead

Teen Wolf

Fire Country

The Vampire Diaries Universe

Vikings

LOTR/The Hobbit

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aemondswifexoxo · 6 months

Text

Blue Hydrangeas

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original stark female character

Summary: Anora Stark, the younger sister of Lord Cregan Stark, is sent south in order to do her duty and marry the prince Aemond Targaryen. She has heard the rumors about the One Eyed Prince, both the good and the bad, and is uncertain where the prince stands in regards to her and their arranged marriage. Will they grow to love each other? And what will happen to the Stark family once the Dance of the Dragons starts?

Also published on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51385267

Chapter I

The carriage ride from Winterfell to King's Landing was calm at best, boring and too long at worst. She would have preferred to make the trip by boat, but storms have haunted the narrow sea since the start of the year, and the journey by land was much safer. Though it was autumn, the weather in the south was much more forgiving, except for the heavy rains that encountered them in the Riverlands. But all that was left behind, now that Anora and her party made their way through the King’s gate, into the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, and her month long trip came to an end.

Anora slightly moved one of the carriage curtains, in order to observe the city and its people. The streets were full of people, some making business, other’s just walking around, but most followed her entourage with their eyes, either knowing what her arrival meant or questioning what was happening. She had heard stories of how Kings Landing was not an ideal place to live in, how the smell was overwhelming and the people dangerous, and though the rumors about the odors seemed to be true, the population seemed just like the one in White Harbor: busy, hard working, a community. In a moon, those will be her people, hers to protect and care for.

She’s to be married to the prince of the realm, Aemond Targaryen, and to unite their noble families. She didn’t know the prince, only the stories and rumors that surrounded him. They said that he had lost an eye, though the specific circumstances no one agreed on: some said that his dragon, the mighty Vhagar, ate it when he claimed her; other’s say that his older sister, the princess Rhaenyra, had it ordered as revenge, for prince Aemond had questioned the legitimacy of her three eldest children. She had also heard of his character, how he was cold and aloof, a good fighter and a fast learner, how he loved his mother, followed his duty to a T, and how he was the picture perfect image of a valyrian prince.

When the betrothal request had reached Winterfell, her brother Cregan had been hesitant to accept it. She was his little sister, after all, and he didn’t want to throw her in the jaws of a dragon. She was the one that accepted the proposal, that had the final say. Even though she was unsure, and truthfully nervous about the union and the type of person that her future husband would be, this was a very advantageous match. Not only would it make her a princess, but her children would be possible dragon riders, her house would be protected by the crown, and the prince was the same age as her, a luxury that other brides couldn’t afford.

She had heard from Lord Manderly's wife, that the prince was quite handsome, if you ignored his marred eye, and that he seemed to be dutiful and honorable, and the complete opposite of his older brother, who was a drunk adulterer. She hoped they could find an amicable marriage, and from what she had heard about prince Aemond, she believed she would at least tolerate his company. She could only hope that he would find her presence endurable as well.

As she noticed that they were nearing the Red Keep's walls, her nerves started to arise. She had never been south of the neck, much less in court. Both her parents were from the North, which meant that she wasn’t taught the ways of the South. She had read and educated herself about them, truthfully reading seemed like the only thing she did during the weeks on the road, but she feared it was not enough. Would she make a fool of herself in front of her betrothed, of his family, of the entire court? What if the prince hated her? Or what if she hated him, if he was cruel and vile?

Her anxiety-ridden thoughts were interrupted by her carriage passing through the castle walls, into an open courtyard where an entourage of people were waiting to welcome her, including her betrothed and the royal family. She hastily let go of the curtain, closing it and blocking her view of the group of people awaiting her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for her name to be announced for her to exit the coach and finally meet her future husband. When it did happen, her door was opened, and one of the servants came to help her out of the carriage. When her feet landed on the ground, she smoothed her skirts and looked in the direction of the royal family. There stood the queen Alicent Hightower, wearing a beautiful and modest dark green dress, and a welcoming smile on her face. On her right stood a tall, older man, also supporting green clothes and a golden broach in his doublet, meaning that he could be none other than Otto Hightower, the queen’s father and the Hand of the King. She also sees who she can surmise to be prince Aegon and princess Helaena, and their three small children. Prince Aegon seems bored, like he wishes to not be there, while princess Helaena has a distant but sweet expression on her face, and her youngest son, Maelor, in her arms.

In the middle of them all, stood a man who was undeniably her husband-to-be. He was tall and slender, though strong, had long silver hair, a handsome face, and an indigo eye. Eye, a singular one. The other one was covered by an eye patch, which fails to conceal the whole of the scar that peeks from above his brow and down his left cheek. She takes a few steps in their direction, and makes a deep and elegant courtesy, keeping her eyes down to show respect. When she corrected her posture and lifted her eyes again, she made eye contact with her betrothed. He had a blank, aloof expression on his face, she could not tell what he was thinking, and it scared her a bit. In her restlessness, she gave him a small, polite smile, and turned her gaze to his right, where his mother was. She was immediately greeted by the queen's warm brown eyes, and her kind expression.

“We welcome you, Lady Stark, to our home and to our family. We hope you enjoy yourself, and may we grow close to one another.” The queen spoke to her, with a gentle but firm voice.

Anora smiled at the older woman, and at her family.

“Thank you, your grace. You are the most kind. I also hope that we may grow into a happy union, and I will follow my duty as the future princess in the meanwhile”.

After all the courtesies and gentilities are exchanged, Anora is instructed to her chambers. Her rooms are large and welcoming, having a lot of light, warm and rich furniture, and a large and comfortable looking bed. She was gifted a sleeping chamber, a sitting chamber, and a dining room, as well as some castle maids. She had brought along two of her lady’s of company from Winterfell, Audra Whitehill and Moira Woolfield, who were her friends since childhood, but the extra hands and company pleased her. She knew not to get too accustomed with her new rooms, since she would be moved to her husband's chambers once they got married. When the door of her room closed and she was left by herself for the time being, she took her shoes and jewelry off and laid in her new bed.

There was to be a welcoming feast later in the evening, to celebrate her arrival and her betrothal to the prince. But for now she intended to rest, and maybe calm her nerves before she was to encounter him again. The way he looked at her, and the lack of expression on his face still haunted her. What did he think of her? Did he find her beautiful? Did he have a good first impression, or was he displeased with her? She turned to her side, unable to fall asleep. She was overthinking it, she had to rest to be in her best mood during the feast. Anora blew the candles on her bedside table and laid a blanket over her body, before finally falling asleep.

She was awoken a few hours later by her lady’s, in order for her to get ready for the banquet. They bathed her, dressed her, brushed her hair and styled it, painted and treated her face in order to enhance her natural beauty. In the end, Anora felt splendid. She was dressed in a soft blue, almost gray dress that matched her eyes. Her jewelry was simple but beautiful, made of silver and engraved with delicate patterns. Her hair was half up in a conglomerate of elegant braids that crowned her head, while the other half fell down her back in her natural curls. In her face, they applied some cream rouge to her cheeks, eyelids and lips, and brushed her eyebrows. She hoped that her betrothed would find her appearance pleasant. When she expressed her wishes to Moira, she whispered back:

“How could he not? Look at you Anora! He would stupid if he found you anything less than breathtaking.”

They giggled like little girls at this, and Anora felt her anxieties calm down a bit. When the time struck, one of her guards knocked at her door to tell her that she had to leave for the feast now. She made her way to the throne room, where the celebration was taking place, with her household guards at both her sides. When she arrived just outside the room, one of the royal guards told her to wait there until her name was announced, then, and only then, was she allowed to go through the doors and enter the throne room, where her betrothed was already seated.

The nerves came back, and she started to feel her hands getting sweaty. She made a last effort to look as presentable as possible, smoothing her skirts, adjusting her bustle, retouching her hair and her jewelry. Finally, after what felt like hours, her name and titles were announced to the court, and the double doors opened.

She started walking at a slow but sure pace, being careful not to trip in her skirts while also keeping her eyes up. She could see him sitting in the middle of the dais, and she noticed that he was already looking at her. His eye held no negative emotion, but it also didn’t show any positive one. It just stared at her and at her every move. She refused to break eye contact, and held it even when she stopped in front of the grand table installed on the foot of the Iron Throne, and curtsied for the royal family.

As it was expected, prince Aemond stood up, and made his way to her side, where he bowed and offered his arm to her. She took it gently, and noticed how warm and firm it was. She couldn’t help but to blush. They made their way to their seats in the middle of the dais, where he pulled her chair back to allow her to sit. He took his chair on her left side, and with that, the feast began.

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asa-do-your-thing · 10 months

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✨ Alicent rediscovers her Lust for women when Helaena gets a new lady-in-waiting ✨

Fantastic idea! Reader is just so sweet and compassionate Alicent can’t help but want her.

Thank you so much! Here it is:

"Rest Your Love on Me"

Alicent Hightower x F! Reader - 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Sex, cunnilingus, fluff, fingering, just general Smut

Alicent had made peace with her situation long ago. Why ever should she not? She was the Queen Mother, wife of King Viserys II and mother of three wonderful children. Whatever she might have felt for Rhaenyra – she refused to call her Princess, as she presented herself in the usurper’s role as of late – was long gone, buried deep inside her. Shame prevented her from trying to find a new paramour, so she had settled in nicely with Ser Criston Cole playing as a second father to her little ones.

Her life had been calm, if not boring. She spent her day listening in on the Council meetings, embroidering and trying to nurture a positive environment for her children, especially for sweet Helaena, whose thoughts seemed to be far away from everyone. Alicent knew she needed a new Lady-in-Waiting; one that could try to bring her daughter out of her shell whilst enduring her love for insects.

Alicent had heard about you from Ser Criston’s sister, who had mentioned your name to her. She was in need of an experienced Lady-in-Waiting for her daughter Helaena and, knowing that you were recently widowed, she sent an invitation for you to come to King's Landing.

You arrived at the castle with mixed feelings, uncertain of what would await you there. But your worries were quickly put to rest. Queen Alicent welcomed you with open arms and expressed her gratitude for your presence; it was clear that she wanted nothing more than the best for her daughter.

The woman before you looked completely different than the one who had commanded you to her presence yesterday. She had closely scrutinized you, even having placed a spider on your arm to observe your behavior, which you had gently cupped in your hand and released outside the window. A pleasant expression adorned her fair features and a discernible glint shone from her eyes. Evidently she had heard wonderful things about you, and she ached for them all to be accurate. When you queried her what she wanted from you, and if there was anything you could do to aid her, she towered upright and confidently stated "Nothing more than what I already see."

Alicent was taken aback. She was not used to feeling such a strong physical attraction towards someone so young, especially someone who could never marry into court. But here she was, feeling something for you she had only ever felt before for Rhaenyra.

It scared her, and yet she also couldn't help but be drawn to you in a way that both excited and terrified her. She wanted to know more about you and learn more about your thoughts and desires.

So Alicent decided to take a chance on you. She invited you to her chambers every evening after dinner, where the two of you would sit together and simply talk about life – yours, hers, the kingdom's – anything that came up in conversation. As time went on, the Queen Mother found herself opening up more and more to you, divulging secrets she had kept hidden for years before finally giving way to laughter and joy as if nothing else mattered in this world or the next.

In the weeks and months that followed, Alicent started to eagerly anticipate your time together. She was mesmerized by the stories you told of your experiences and outlook on life; they were so different from those around the castle. Your arms almost touched as you sat close together, and she found herself captivated by how you carried yourself with such grace and poise even when faced with difficult tasks. Whenever Helaena was around, all her attention was on her daughter, but there were moments when she'd sneak glances at you too. Despite knowing it was wrong, she felt a strong pull towards you, eager for any stolen moment alone.

Desire stirred in her belly the closer she and you got. Whenever the two of you spoke privately, it felt like there was some kind of magnetic force drawing them together. They shared stories from their pasts and talked about building a future for the Targaryen princes. All the courtiers could do was smirk and whisper behind their backs, but they never questioned either of them about their relationship. The more Alicent got to know you, the stronger her feelings grew until eventually, they became too strong to resist – just as Rhaenyra had done so many years ago. She realized that this wasn't just admiration or friendship, it was an irresistible passion.

Every night, after bidding her husband goodnight with a forced smile, she dragged her feet back to her chambers and collapsed onto her bed, desperately trying to force the image of you out of her mind. The way you cradled Helaena up against your full bosom, making your heart thunder in her ears and how she could feel the contours of your strong buttocks when you bent down...She quivered with uncontrollable desire and spent countless nights writhing in pleasure, yearning for you to enter her chambers.

When Alicent heard that you were planning to spend the afternoon in some hot springs in a cave, not too far from King's Landing, after having chased around Helaena in the muddy gardens, she knew that this could be her chance. She asked you if she might accompany you, which made you blush. It was a rare honour for the Queen to spend time with you alone, no less going to the baths.

So the two of you ventured off to the cave, butterflies in your stomachs. The warm air that greeted you as soon as you stepped inside made your hearts race even faster and it was clear to both of you that something special was about to happen.

Alicent slowly began to undress you, her eyes fixed on yours as she peeled away layer after layer until all that remained were your undergarments. She took her time, caressing your body as she did so and kissing every inch of exposed skin. She admired your curves and ran her fingers through your soft hair before finally leaning in for a passionate kiss. As your lips touched for the first time, both of you felt a warmth like never before — an electric current that ran through your veins and left them wanting more.

The way you looked at Alicent with such lustful desire made her heart skip a beat and left her breathless; your touch felt like fire on ice – something so forbidden yet so right all at the same time – and all she wanted was for you to keep going until there would be nothing left between the two of you but pure bliss.

As Alicent continued exploring your body with trembling hands and hungry lips, it felt like everything around you had melted away into nothingness — just the two of you lost in each other’s embrace, completely oblivious to anything else outside this moment. As you swam around, the water lapping at your breasts, Alicent gracefully swam up to you and slid her hand up your thighs.

"Please", you whined needily against her warm neck as you wrapped your arms around her slippery frame,"Please, Alicent..."

Without hesitation, Alicent gently pressed your body against the limestone wall of the cave, her own trembling with anticipation. She gently kissed your neck and moaned softly as you gently touched her rounded breasts, gently rubbing her nipple and suckling on it.

You grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to your body, the heat of Alicent’s curves burning against yours. She reached up and cupped your face in her hands as you both gasped for breath, the intensity of the moment leaving you both speechless. Alicent slowly moved her hands over your mound, gently stroking your pearl and slipping her gentle fingers into your hot womanhood, pushing herself deeper inside you as you groaned softly with pleasure, gently pressing your nails into her back. The pleasurable sensations that surged through your body were like nothing either of you had ever experienced before – it was like heaven on earth. You quickly came undone on her perfect fingers, smiling widely in disbelief over the pleasure your Queen has granted you.

As Alicent grasped onto your shoulders, you knew exactly what you should do. Gently carying her over to a small ledge, you watched in delight as she opened her legs for you, the cold air hardening her nipples and showing you her beautiful cunny. Gently moistening your lips, you made a sloppy trail of kisses up her thighs and stopped at her wonderful opening, kissing and licking it until it seemed that Alicent would start screaming from pleasure. Gently licking your fingers, you lowered her back down into the hot water and inserted a finger into her trembling heat. "Is... this what you wanted, my Queen?", you murmur into her ear, gently quickening the pace of your finger, making sure that you continued stroking her pearl.

The only response you got was a muffled scream, as Alicent grabbed onto you, contracting around your fingers. Giving you a small kiss on the tip of you nose, she nodded and gave you a blissful smile. The two of you drifted away into a state of pure bliss, Alicent's breaths becoming more collected after a while. "We should return", she remarked matter-of-factly, blushing in a deep shade of crimson. "Mayhaps I should reassign you to be my lady-in-waiting, seeing as you... enjoy working for me", she said with a coy smile, gracefully wringing out her auburn hair.

You blush and help her get dressed again. "It should be the greatest honour, your Highness. I could not imagine working for someone better than you."

#alicent smut #alicent hightower #alicent x reader #hotd #hotd smut #asas fics #alicent x female reader #hotd lesbian #lesbian #hotd fanfiction

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

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Alicent spanking reader for the bingo card? Congrats on 150!

Crime and Punishment (Alicent Hightower x Reader)

Summary: The Queen and you get along wonderfully. After all, the strongest friendships are based on shared interests.

Warnings: Spanking. Masochism, mentions of self harm. A bit of blood. Reader and Alicent being sad lesbians. The author is a recovered catholic.

A/N: How many times can someone who has not received a spanking write a spanking? Two, it turns out. Thanks for being patient!

Some nights, you are not in a good place. Not mentally. It’s as if you are your worst enemy, falling back into damaging habits and patterns, and then hating yourself for it.

Before, you used to bite at your lips until they bleed, picking at the loose skin there. You would nitpick at your face, pinching every imperfection. Punish yourself with baths so cold your teeth would chatter, wash your skin with the roughest rags, until your skin was red and raw.

You know it’s unhealthy. A bad coping mechanism, that leaves you injured and exhausted, but lets you sleep after it.

That was before meeting Queen Alicent. Really meeting her. You had been, of course, aware of who she was. Loved by the people, married to the King, daughter of Otto Hightower. But you hadn’t met her yet.

Hadn’t noticed how her hands would pick at her cuticles and nail beds until they bleed, tugging the small bits of skin until they were bloody and raw. Hadn't noticed the way she wore a particularly sharp medallion of the Seven Pointed Star, and how she would cling to it, so tightly her knuckles turned white, sharp edges digging into her skin.

When you arrived at court, you watched. And Alicent watched back. As two dancers in a well-rehearsed piece, you circled each other, pushing and pulling. Both of you were aware of the unhealthiness of your behavior, how dangerous the game you played could turn. Yet, neither of you could resist the temptation of raising the stakes.

On nights like these, now, you come to her. You drop your dress, letting it pool at your feet. You pass her the wooden hairbrush she uses every night before bed.

The vanity is cold as you brace your hands against it, seeing the despair in your eyes reflected in the mirror. It’s weird, but it’s one of the conditions she has set for this agreement of yours. You must look at yourself in the eyes, face your fears. Watch yourself break and get built up again.

“I feel bad.” Alicent says, as she steps behind you. She remains fully clothed, the seven pointed star necklace still in place. Her finger runs down your spine, softly. The room is warm enough for you to be comfortable naked, but you shudder anyway. “I dislike hurting you.”

“I know.” You answer, meeting her eyes through the mirror. Her expression is solemn. She grabs the hairbrush. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Alicent frowns. “I dislike it more when you hurt yourself.” She squeezes your bare shoulder, gently. You hear the words, even when she doesn’t say them. This way, I can keep you safe, her big brown eyes seem to say. This way, I can control how much you hurt.

It’s a respite you desperately need. There is something about the pain that you find freeing, something that fixes you when you feel bad about yourself. And the Seven know that sometimes, you go overboard with it.

Who could blame you? When something feels good, when something feels right and distracts you from the bad things in life, it’s only natural to crave more.

Alicent rubs the hairbrush against your back, the side with the bristles against your naked skin. You shiver. The pressure she applies it’s just enough to make you squirm, but it doesn’t feel painful yet. It feels as if someone is scratching your back just a little too rough.

The hairbrush goes lower. Right on top of your hips. Alicent’s hands, on your stomach, encouraging you to arch your back and expose your bottom. You whine. You can’t take the teasing, tonight. It’s not a game to you, but a need. If she delays it a bit more, you are afraid you might break, shatter and explode into a million pieces.

As if sensing your mood, the hairbrush descends even more, harshly scratching at your cheeks. You fight the urge to tuck your hips in, to wiggle and make yourself a smaller target.

You hear the smack before you feel it. A harsh, dull sound that makes your thighs tremble, straining not to move away and break position. The ache comes next, a flash of hot red exploding against your skin. Warmth. You yowl.

Alicent shushes you, rubbing between your shoulder blades and forcing your head to hang lower.

“The guards can’t hear.” She says, as her other hand urges your hips to tilt back more, instead of going inwards. Her hand settles just above your mound, keeping you in position. It’s an uncomfortable stretch, your naked breasts nearly touching the vanity, forehead pressed against the mirror. “You have to be quiet, or we will be caught.”

You whimper, pitifully. You know it wouldn’t look good, for either of you. Alicent and you haven’t crossed that line yet, but you toe it often. Just tethering on the edge of sexual as you are, it would be a scandal if you were to be found in the Queen’s rooms, naked and with her hands all over you.

Darkly, sometimes you wish it happened already. At least that way, she would recognize this, whatever that is growing between the two of you. But Alicent is too focused on pretending dutifulness that she can’t allow herself to want something that's not right in society's eyes.

Alicent looks around for a few seconds, eyes shifting from the objects in her vanity to your discarded clothes. She is looking for something to keep you quiet, as she often does. But today, nothing seems to please her. Finally, she takes off her necklace, and holds it in front of your lips. You open up, and she presses the pendant between your teeth.

“Keep it there. Don’t let it fall.” She orders, before bringing the hairbrush again over your vulnerable behind. You bite down on the metal, trying not to let it slip from between your teeth.

The taste of iron and the feel of it against your teeth it’s unpleasant, making you shudder as it bangs against your gums. The star shape isn't doing you any favors, either. There is no respite from the points when there are seven of them.

The pain it’s unbearable. The hits of the hairbrush seem more and more distant as you focus on not letting the medallion slip from between your lips. You can’t focus, starting to drool around it. Your cries remain muffled between clenched teeth, but you want to scream and scream and never stop.

Your problems fade away, leaving you in an impossible state of clarity. There is nothing on your mind but the pain. The impact of each hit and the knowledge that you can take one more for Alicent, that you can be good for her.

She keeps at it, cautious to keep an eye on your face. After a certain number of hits, her palms rub at your sore bottom and thighs, shushing you. The pause makes you want to cry even more.

Tears and drool are now freely running down your face. The points of the star dig at your gums, and you try to swallow down your sobs to not jostle it more.

Hurts. Hurts so bad. You are shaking. It feels as if your arms are unable to keep you upright anymore. Finally, you collapse, chest squished against the vanity, weak legs trembling, hips out for Alicent to keep at it.

She does, but in a much crueller manner. As you pant there, she turns the hairbrush over, and starts rubbing the bristles over your abused thighs and cheeks. You sob more, body shaking so hard you rattle the vanity.

Power through it, you say to yourself. You need to endure it. You need to be good. This is the only way. You have to take what she gives you, prove yourself. Pain it’s the only thing that will give you what you need now. A clean slate from your transgressions.

She is both lover and judge, your queen. Jury and executioner. Able to cleanse you from your sins and cradle your injured body, nurture you back to health. Back to piousness.

You wish you could spend eternity at her feet. Forgive me, Mother, you think to yourself. For I have sinned in my thoughts, all about her. In my words, to keep our secret. In what I have done, and in what I have failed to do. Her lips, her smile, her eyes. The fact that you never once kissed.

Alicent shushes you. Meanly, her nails drag against your cheeks. The metal inside your mouth tastes like expiation, slightly coppery and leaving a faint pain in your gums. Never had you felt closer to the Gods than now, confessing to your private Septon.

Your teeth clench more around the seven pointed star. She spanks you again, this time with her bare hand. You sob, focused on not letting go, no matter how much it hurts. It’s not only for her, that you need to be good. It’s for yourself.

You need to prove you are good, show that you have some worth. If any, that you are capable of obeying. But on the next hit, you are unable to keep the star inside your mouth, and you cry out, both in pain and despair.

You failed. You had one task and you failed. Your sobs turn more hysterical. Your stomach sinks. Suddenly, you can’t breathe. There is an ugly, choked sound on repeat. Like the cries of a hurt animal ringing in your ears. You realize too late that you are the one producing it.

Alicent looks up, and freezes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She brushes your hair back, and kisses your temple. “You did so well. So well, it’s over now.”

She gathers you in her arms. It’s only then you notice the mess of drool and tears on your face has turned red.

“I’m sorry.” You hiccup. “I didn’t….”

“Shh, no. You did outstandingly. It was all my fault.” Alicent gently pries your lips open. You go with the motion, opening up for her. She checks your gums, very tenderly. There is a small gash on the inside of your cheek.

Alicent pours you a glass of wine.

“Rinse your mouth with that for me.”

Still a bit floaty, you do as she says, head bobbing lazily. Once you do, she helps you get dressed and sits by you, nursing her cup. You lay down on your side, looking at her.

She is so pretty it hurts. You give her a loopy smile. Alicent smiles back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alicent asks as you rest your head in her lap.

“No.” You reply, voice still a bit off. She rubs your shoulder blades, soothingly. Then, she leans towards a center table and reaches for a board filled with cheese and fruit.

“Here. Eat some.”

You blindly chew whatever Alicent presses against your lips. No matter what it was, coming from her hand, you would.

“I don’t want to go to my rooms.” You mutter, hiding your face in the folds of her skirt. You drop a kiss to her clothed knee and Alicent scratches your head just the way you like.

Every so often, you wonder where her mind is, when she is delivering what you clearly need. Her own pain, perhaps. How much she craves to be the one receiving the hits. You have seen the way her eyes glaze over, when your hands rest casually on the hairbrush.

Perhaps, she is thinking of her. The other woman she loved. You have an inkling of who she is, but you don’t dare even think of the name. They say, sometimes, spirits pay attention when we speak about them out loud. You don’t want to think about her, childishly afraid of jinxing it. Nor do you dare ask because some things are better not known.

Is that why she refuses to turn this thing of yours into something romantic? Is she too fearful of admitting she loves you?

You fear you know the answer, already. You are not a placeholder, or a substitute, but Alicent is too scared to acknowledge it. She prefers pretending this is nothing more than a Queen disciplining her subject.

This is easier, you convince yourself. You shouldn’t have spoken, you shouldn’t have asked to stay. Both of you got what you wanted. Pain. Control. Crime and punishment. You should be out of here.

There is a dreadful feeling of wrongness in this. A cold shiver that takes over you, as you try to get up and claim back a semblance of calm. Alicent feels it too. Her brows are pinched, conflicting emotions displayed in her eyes. Sadness, and a plea for you not to go. Yet, she doesn’t speak it out loud.

The silence stretches. Almost as if an angel had passed between the two of you, stealing your voices, burrowing the words that could not be spoken aloud.

Alicent’s hand reaches forward, quick as a viper. A shove, against your shoulder, making you stumble back into bed. You whimper, body still feeling bruised from your recent experience.

“Stay. Stay the night.”

“Your guards…” You protest, but you are already getting comfortable again, your head on her pillow. Drowning on the smell of her, her, her.

“Ser Criston won’t speak a word.”

So you stay. And the next morning, Alicent doesn’t exactly tell you she loves you, but you feel a little better anyway.

#alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #alicent x you #alicent hightower x you #alicent x female reader #alicent hightower #alicent hotd #queen alicent #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd alicent #asoif fanfic #cristi's bingo

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ilovemilfsthings · 7 months

Text

──── ✰࿒࿎྇ ༃࿐ ‘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.

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✧. ┊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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pockeymcmockey · 2 years

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𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 | 𝓐𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

Summary: Aemond finds himself at a crossroads, get revenge and risk his relationship or forgive Lucerys and marry the Princess...

Warnings: HEAVY angst, swearing, men with no decorum, character death (major and minor), violence, Aemond is a selfish ass, Reader regrets things.

Author's Note: This fic needs more angst so here ya go!

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 | 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑℑ | 𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱

Princess [Name] Targaryen sat by her windowsill, a leg perched upon the ledge and her elbow resting on her knee awaiting the raven she called for after learning about her mother's miscarriage. She sent the raven off to the Red Keep with the parchment to be given to Prince Aemond. She wiped her tears and watched until the raven was out of sight before undressing out of her nightgown and into her training garbs.

When Aemond received the message from his betrothed's raven and read the ink written on the page, he felt a deep sinking in his stomach. The loss of a King, the gain of a new one, and now the loss of a babe was too much for the Kingdom and the family. Aemond wrote back, pleading to the princess to return to the Red Keep to marry him sooner rather than later but alas, when her reply was to stay in Dragonstone and comfort her mother, he couldn't say he wasn't disappointed.

Aemond prepared Vhagar for travel after dressing himself in black leather and a trenchcoat as Storm's End can be rather tempestuous. Vhagar pulled her claws from the soil of King's Landing and took off toward the Baratheon territory. The beast known as Vhagar oscillated throughout the inclement weather that was Storm's End. When the Targaryen prince and his dragon arrived to the Baratheon household, the guards kept their distance, greeting him only when they were out of Vhagar's vicinity.

The one-eyed prince gave a curt nod to the Lord seated before him, Borros returning that nod. Aemond spoke of his mother's offer to bind the two houses together, to fight to keep the rightful King on the Iron Throne. Of course, Aemond expected the Lord Baratheon to want something, so in return, Aemond offered to gift them a dragon egg. The gift of a dragon egg was not to be taken lightly, Aemond knew this, but his words were empty promises. He found a dud lying around in a nest last evening and thought it helpful to strengthen the treaty.

Borros thought his offer over. A Baratheon with a dragon has never been seen and it would bring new fear to those who crossed a Baratheon—of course, he wouldn't actually be getting one but only Aemond knew that. Borros accepted but before Aemond could take his leave, the grand doors opened to reveal the woman he's missed since their departure. And her brother. As the two children of Rhaenyra walked elegantly through the heavy doors, Aemond and [Name] made eye contact.

The pupil in her unscarred eye dilated, black almost filling her iris. She lopsidedly smiled at him, still unsettled about going against her forbidden love. Aemond stood monotonously in the shadows, observing his betrothed and Lucerys, the bane of his existence. The boy who caused all his problems spoke up, handing a Baratheon maester the parchment that held Rhaenyra's words. Borros skimmed through the letter and scoffed, mocking their mother. Lucerys reached for his sword but his older sister outstretched an arm in front of him, shaking her head at him.

"You come to my castle, asking for my army, and without a gift or payment? Am I a jest to you Targaryens?" Lord Borros shooed his maester away and tapped his nubbed fingers against the stone of his chair. "You, boy! Which one of my daughters will you marry?" Lucerys informed the Lord that he was unavailable, being already betrothed to his cousin. The Lord of the Stag cackled wildly, beer gut jutting out, almost popping the buttons of his dress shirt.

"Excuse me if I cause any offense to you, my Lord, but were your ancestors not sworn to the crown? To the Iron Throne, whom my mother should be sitting on, yet you allow a usurper to sit his fat arse on it?" [Name] asked nonchalantly, leaning on her sword, Blood Brother, a stance her father has taken many times. Now that Aemond looks at her, he sees a lot of her father inside of her. Her violet eyes too dark to match Rhaenyra's. Her tongue too sharp for her mother's taste, but not for Daemon's.

The Lord stood from his stone throne, hobbling over to the young woman stood before him. He fisted her thin blouse and touched nose to nose, his breath smelling of grape wine. "Want to say those words again, cunt?" Aemond was about to step in when [Name] smirked, her eyes cast down lazily before shaking her head, apologizing for her harsh words. "Watch your tongue, whore." Aemond's grip on his dagger kept him grounded, keeping him from lashing out on the Lord and ruining their treaty.

"I see we're not welcome here, as we have nothing to offer but our respect. We'll see ourselves out." The Princess escorted her and her brother to the door, at the half-way mark when Aemond halted them. The Prince could not look into the eyes of his woman, knowing what he says next could ruin what they had but it must be done. For if he does not have his revenge, he fears he may wallow in it and not give his betrothed the attention she's always deserved.

"Your eye, Lord Strong. As payment for mine." The one-eyed prince tossed his dagger Lucerys' way, allowing the younger prince to take his own eye. "A gift for my mother. An eye for an eye, after all." Aemond smirked, removing his eyepatch to show his sapphire replacement. The older of the three, the Princess, grabbed her younger brother's hand, pulling him behind her.

"Haven't you taken enough from my family, my Prince?" [Name] spat venomously at the man whose proposal she accepted, regretting making her decision so desperately. Aemond's smirk fell and his eye glossed over, the sapphire glistening from what little light the castle let in. "We'll be on our way now." The Princess insisted, turning away from the man with a jewel for an eye. Said man did not appreciate the rejection very much, storming over and snatching his dagger from the cobble floor beneath them.

"Give me your eye!" Aemond screamed, scolded by Lord Borros who appreciated if less blood was shed in his castle. [Name]'s glare hardened like rock, pushing her brother out the large doors and to his dragon, Arrax. When the two of them reached the courtyard of Storm's End, the eldest of the two noticed the beast Aemond rode had vanished. How had he left so quickly? She asked herself.

"Come, sister, Mother's expecting us back!" Lucerys shouted over the looming wind, whistling in every direction. [Name] nodded and hopped on the back of Llanerion and flew off, back to Dragonstone to send word to her mother that Lord Baratheon would not be joining her bannermen. During their flight, Lucerys had an erie feeling, one that they were being watched, hunted almost. His intuition was correct as the gnarly jaws of Vhagar invaded their path.

"Lucerys!" [Name] shouted with concern, listening to the echoes of Aemond's laughter. She chased after them, soaring beside Vhagar and calling out to Aemond. "My Prince, please! Enough! He's but a child!" Alas, her attempts proved futile as Aemond did not give and continued his chase. Lucerys curved through archways and trenches before losing Vhagar, then they came upon clear skies and the sun cascading over them like a blanket of fire.

The two let the sun distract them for too long as the teeth of Vhagar pierced Arrax and Lucerys in the process. [Name] cried for her brother, alerting Vhagar of another prey left alive. The Princess pulled at Llanerion's reigns, forcing him to dive forward and to avoid the clutches of the largest dragon in Westeros. Her actions were unavailing when Vhagar ripped a wing right off of Llanerion, his balance lost and Princess [Name] as well.

Aemond's eye widened with horror, his soon-to-be wife diving into the sea below. The Prince used all his might to gain control of Vhagar once more, the mossy beast listening and diving downward. His rescue seemed fruitless when the body of his lover was engulfed by the salt of the sea. Aemond showed perseverance and jumped off the back of his beast, swimming below surface level and encircling the waist of his betrothed, pulling her ashore.

Her lungs were filled with salty liquid and Aemond did what he knew best with her, he kissed her. He brought air back into her lungs as she coughed up the salt, a bitter taste on her tongue and her throat feeling the dryest its ever been. Aemond smoothed back the Princess' white locks and kissed her head, holding her closely. The woman held tightly onto the leather of her husband-to-be, grasping to feel any warmth she could get.

For a moment, [Name] just wanted to forget. Forget about the rivalry, forget about her title and duties, and forget about her brother. But unfortunately, she remembered everything. The Princess pushed Aemond away, standing upright and walking toward where sand met grass. The Prince confusingly followed, clutching her elbow and turning her to face him. When her body was directed toward him, she sent her palm to his cheek, a handprint marking the soaked skin.

She's angry, Aemond realized. About her brother, about everything. The one-eyed prince persisted in getting her to talk to him, say something, anything. Yell at him, push him away again, but she only stared at him. Her lips turning blue and her body trembling. Then, she finally spoke, words filled with poison and said out of spite:

"I hate you..."

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