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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months

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With No One Around

When you and Aemond need to relax, you have a secret spot where you can go and be all alone.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, deep throating, Aemond has a spite-fueled breeding kink

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

With No One Around

Prompt: In Nature & Deep Throating

Vhagar sensed your intentions the moment you and Aemond climbed down from her saddle, giving you an annoyed, rumbling growl before she lumbered as far away as she could while still being close enough to guard you. You mumbled teasing words at her, but you couldn’t help but love the curmudgeonly old dragon. And be very thankful that she only understood High Valyrian.

Aemond huffed, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you through the trees. You cursed his long legs and scrambled to keep up with him so he wouldn’t pull your arm clean off. “In quite a hurry, are you?”

He only gave a frustrated hum. It was answer enough.

That day had been hard. On both of you.

It was the first day of the Festival of the Mother, and as it always did on holidays, everything went wrong.

The king was too ill to attend. Aegon was hung over. Helaena was in one of her distant moods, which did nothing to help calm the hysterical twins. It was supposed to be their first public event since the announcement of their birth, a way to show the world that their line was strong, secure, and, most importantly, true. Yet the future heir spent the morning biting everyone and everything he could find while his sister wailed ceaselessly.

In the end, Helaena and the twins stayed in their rooms, leaving only Queen Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and you to attend. Not exactly the best showing for a day dedicated to the mother.

Especially not when you and Aemond had been wed nearly two years with no children to show for it – though not for lack of valiant effort – and all the nobility seemed able to talk about was the child Rhaenyra would give birth to in mere weeks.

That was what set Aemond on edge. He would not be able to dismiss this child as a threat to his family. For unlike its elder half-brothers, it would not be a bastard. It would be a true continuation of Rhaenyra’s line – a full-blooded Valyrian. And a boon of legitimacy to her bid for the throne.

You were not sure exactly why, but Aemond believed that if Rhaenyra took the throne, she would immediately move to slaughter her half-siblings and their families. The one time you asked him why, he refused to explain. You would have pushed further, but his lip had twitched toward his scar, and you knew what that meant – it was one of the first things you’d learned about him.

Whatever the cause, he had pulled you away after the ceremony in such a hurry that he didn’t even call for a wheelhouse to take you to Vhagar. He’d just lifted you atop the first saddled horse he found, swinging up behind you and sending the beast racing through the city.

Which is how you ended up here – being pulled along by Aemond as he brought you to his special place. A small outcropping on Blackwater Bay, just outside the Kingswood. It had ample enough space for Vhagar to rest and was completely private.

It was where Aemond would come whenever he got overwhelmed, whether by the pain from his eye, exhaustion after being forced to appear in public and be sociable, or just the stress and frustration of his everyday life. He used it for the same reasons still, but he now had a better way to calm himself rather than mope by the cliff’s edge.

Now, he had you.

And you were never going to complain about his using you for stress relief.

Aemond brought you just outside the tree line, then whirled on you, gripping you tightly as he pulled you into a searing kiss. “I swear by all the gods,” he moaned as you opened to him, “we will not return home until there is a babe in your belly.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before again diving into you and moving one hand down to cup your rear. You moaned as he pulled you against him, rolling his hips to show you just how eager he was.

“We may be here a while then,” you managed to eke out between kisses. You weren’t sure why he was delaying; he was more than hard enough, and you hoped your own movements against him would show him you were ready as well. “What will we eat?”

He growled. This was not the conversation he wanted to have. He’d always preferred no conversation when you were intimate, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Vhagar will cook us some venison.”

You laughed at the answer but were quickly cut off when he moved his hands to your shoulders to push you down on the soft grass. Aemond was in quite the mood, and you weren’t sure you liked it.

So, you decided to tease him. After all, he deserved it.

You let him push you to your knees but resisted his attempts to push you down further. He tried, but you were stronger than you appeared, especially when you were this annoyed with him.

“What are you doing – ” you cut him off this time, reaching up to grab his thighs and squeeze.

With a saccharine smile, you brought your hands to the ties of his trousers and began to unlace them, one by one. “I’m just helping you relax. If you put a baby in me now, I fear it will be born angry.”

Aemond growled softly, in warning to not delay too long, and begrudging permission.

You made quick work of his trousers, pulling them down only enough to retrieve his hardened cock, pumping it a few times to spread the moisture that had gathered at his tip before taking him into your mouth. Slowly, at first, because he wouldn’t relax if he got what he wanted immediately, but enough that he would not want to stop you to stick himself somewhere else.

You continued like this for a few moments, until Aemond got impatient and laced his fingers through your hair, moving you ever so slightly toward him.

The message was clear: more.

You happily obliged, bracing yourself with your hands on his rear, and took him further, and further, and further. And when your nose finally pressed into his stomach, you paused, hollowing your cheeks. You drew back just before you ran out of breath, running your tongue up the length of him before taking him all the way once more.

Aemond’s hands tightened in your hair as you repeated the action once, twice, three times. On the fourth, he gripped so tightly you were sure he’d tear half your hair out. On the fifth, he shouted a curse as he came, spilling down your throat and moaning as you sucked every last drop from him. When you pulled away, you left one last kiss on his tip.’

It took a while for him to catch his breath. He gazed at you adoringly the whole time. You waited until he was entirely calm before you teased him once more.

“Enjoyable as that was, I fear it will not produce a babe.”

Aemond’s smile fell into a frown of shame and affectionate annoyance, and you laughed.

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lionfloss · 1 year

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Diamond Squid flashing some pretty ridiculous colors. Blackwater dive off Anilao, Philippines (via steven_kovacs_photography)

#nature #photography #squid #ocean #sea #underwater #sea creatures #marine biology #philippines #nature photography #bright #glow #squids #curators on tumblr

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mutant-distraction · 9 months

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Diamond Squid

Blackwater Cozumel dive organized by Blackwater Cozumel photo taken at 50ft over 1300ft

D500 60mm f22 1/200 iso250

Scubalamp Dpro strobes

Kraken Sports downlights

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doxypsychlean · 2 years

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Of Seas And Skies pt.2

Previous chapter: Of Seas And Skies pt.1 (REQUEST)

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: Wanna address sth rq, cause some twats want to complain abt me not using the right tags. Yeah, I gave the reader a name in this one, only cause I want for people to completely dive into the story. I don't like using 'Y/N', imo it ruins the whole thing. And let's be honest to ourselves, an accurate name is much better than having to torture ourselves with the thought of a Targ,named Emily. (nothing personal to the Emily's out there, mine isn't any better). Another thing, cs I'm getting some strong vibes said twats are feelin pissy abt this as well- yeah, I describe the reader as being mixed. Like, sorry that I described how a kid that comes from a black man and a white woman, looks like. But bffr, it was in the damn request that she's Laenor's and Rhaenyra's.

P.S. So, it doesn't rlly follow the req. Only realized it after I was done writing this. Too late now, I'm way too fkn lazy to do anything about it.

A large shadow was flying over the waters of Blackwater Bay. Valaena could barely see where they were going- both from her angry tears and the rain that had been pouring down on the capital for hours.

Quicksilver let out a shriek as he dove down. He could feel her anger run in his own veins. But there was more. Sadness and heartbreak. She was hurt. Betrayed. The dragon spread his wings before they could hit the water, then flew up.

"Dracarys!"

Thunder roared somewhere behind them, not that far away. Quicksilver let out another shriek, this one concerned and scared.

"Dracarys!" Valaena yelled out again. This time her dragon followed the order. With what came out as a sigh, he opened his strong jaws as wide as he could, fire spilling from them.

The two went through the cloud of flames, both dragon and rider shutting their eyes tight as they did.

"Valaena!" A voice came from behind them. Then a flap of wings.

"Adere!" The woman shouted, urging Quicksilver to pick up the speed.

Another lightning struck, the light bouncing off of silver and golden scales. Both dragons roared, as if agreeing that this was no time for either of them to be so far up in the skies.

"Valaena, please! Get down!" Aegon shouted, but his wife didn't react. Instead, she and Quicksilver flew higher.

"Keligon, Sunfyre, keligon! Se jelmio iksis tolī kostōba!" Aegon said.

He was right. The wind was howling, turning the rain against them. Sunfyre wouldn't be able to catch up to them.

"Adere!" He heard her voice come through the clouds, a crazed laugh following close after.

Suddenly there was no rain. No strong winds. Valaena and Quicksilver had crossed over the black clouds and were now on the other side. It was so quiet.

Then a roar, louder than anything either of them had ever heard, tore through the silence. The clouds bent and rolled, making way for Vhagar's large body.

"Princess!" Aemond yelled at her. "We have to get down now or we'll never make it out! The storm is getting worse!"

Quicksilver growled at the sight of the much larger beast. He dove down, passing right between Vhagar's claws.

The sound of the rain beating down mercilessly at the water came through once more. The darkness was back.

"Isse se iēdar, Silver!" Valaena said as she wiped the rain from her face. Another laugh tore through her lips.

Quicksilver looked down at the waters of Blackwater Bay once more, his heart beating fast. His wings were folded back, as close to his large body as they would go.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One second they were high above, the next they could make out the angry waves, foaming like rabid dogs. The dragon tried to spread his wings, but it was too late. He hit the water, surfing on it for a bit before they sunk.

"Valaena!" A voice shouted out.

Then everything went quiet again, the water surrounding them.

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The Princess coughed, salt water spilling from her mouth and down on the sound. Then she noticed the blood. A large head wrapped around her body, weak growl coming from it.

"Are you alright?" She asked, hand running over the silver scales. "This is coming from me and not you, right?"

Quicksilver let out another growl, confirming that the blood was in fact, hers.

"Good, good..." She said, trying to get up. Her feet gave out, right one bending at a weird angle. "Help me, before they find us."

Valaena wrapped a hand around her dragon's neck as she got up. It felt weird, her hand. Numb. But it also hurt. She coughed out the last bits of water. As she quieted down, her eyes scanned around.

"The cave!" She pointed towards the bottom of the rock that was close to the beach. "We have to go in!"

Her eyes turned to look up, taking in the two shadows above them. Vhagar and Sunfyre were floating close to eachother. It came to her, Prince Aemond and Aegon were probably trying to catch a glimpse of Quicksilver's body in the water.

"Come on." She said as she turned around, limping towards the entrance.

Quicksilver followed, eyes darting to the bone that was protruding from her leg. He squinted as they entered the void, eyes trying to get used to the darkness.

────────────

"Aegon...It's been two days now, boy. She's gone." Otto said to his grandson as he shook his head.

"No! She's still out there! I can feel it!" Aegon protested.

"No one could survive such a fall, son..." The King whispered before he placed his golden mask down on the table.

"They would have washed up on the shores, my King." Alicent said, eyes going over to meet those of her older son. " We cannot give up on them this easily!"

"Alicent! They're gone! Both of them!" Viserys yelled with whatever strength was left in his decaying body. "How do I tell Rhaenyra, tell her her only daughter is now laying at the bottom of sea..."

Without anyone noticing, Aegon had snuck out of the small council chambers. He made his way down. His feet were getting heavier with each step. Soon, he collapsed. He sat down on the steps.

"It's your fault." Aegon whispered to himself.

"It is." Aemond's voice came from behind him. "If it weren't for you and your whores, our niece wouldn't have moved away from your quarters..."

Aegon closed his eyes.

"If she hadn't caught you with one of those whores, she wouldn't have ran out of the Keep and into that storm. Now she's somewhere out there, most probably gravely injured. Waiting for the Stranger to come and get her..."

His head shot up. Aegon turned to look at his younger brother, who was standing a few steps above him.

"You think she's still alive?"

Aemond let out a hum, eye turning to look out the window and into the dark sky.

"There was no blood. Their bodies haven't been found yet. Yes, I believe she still is. For now." His eye turned to look back at Aegon. "But we're wasting time. Time we don't have."

Aegon nodded, then stood up. The two brothers started walking down the steps.

They walked to the Dragon Pit in silence.

"She was right, you know. You've been neglecting Sunfyre for way too long. He would've been able to make it through the storm, if it weren't for you keeping him locked in here..."

"That's enough!" Aegon came to a halt. "You think I don't fucking know it?!"

His whole body was shaking violently. His pale face had gone even paler in the two days since the incident. Was it from guilt or withdrawal, no one could tell...

"How long do you think it would be before our sister finds out, hm? And then what? What do we do when Rhaenyra and Daemon come for your head?" Aemond placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Think about it. Her only daughter might be laying at the bottom of Blackwater Bay, for all we know, the fish feasting on her body."

"We will find her." Aegon spat out as he shoved him away.

"I truly hope you are right, brother. Otherwise this whole city will burn down to the ground and us with it..."

A loud thud came from above their heads, pieces of stone tearing from the building. One fell down close to the two princes, then rolled down the steps.

Three eyes looked up. There, on top of the Dragon Pit, stood Quicksilver. Valaena's Quicksilver. He looked as if nothing had happened.

The dragon climbed down, then jumped. Aegon and Aemond turned to stare at the beast. Quicksilver let out a low growl as he came closer, his eyes going from one brother to the other. Then he bowed, one wing dropping low.

"Does he..."

"Get on the fucking thing!" Aegon interrupted him as he circled around the dragon.

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"You found her just in time, my Prince." The maester said as he tore the leather of the woman's pants. Then he let out an involuntary hiss at the sight. "Gods be good..."

The doors of Valaena's and Aegon's quarters slammed into the walls. In the entrance stood no other than the Rogue Prince, a crazed look on his face.

His eyes landed on Aegon. Daemon reached him with a few steps then picked him up from where he was sitting on the bed, nails digging into Aegon's shoulder.

"It wasn't enough that you got my daughter, but you also had to try and kill her?!"

A blow came to his face, shattering Aegon's nose to pieces.

No one made a move to stop him. Not even Aemond and Ser Criston. They watched in silence as Daemon took him down to the ground, kicking him in the ribs with everything he had.

"Jace?" A weak voice came from the bed. "Luke?"

Her brothers, who had been frozen in place at the entrance, bolted. They stopped on each side of the bed, then Lucerys crawled on all fours towards his sister. Both boys were crying, not even bothering to hide it from the others.

"Val?! Val, are you alright?!" Jacaerys asked as he sat down next to her and reached for her left hand.

"One hand broken, bone coming out my leg..." Valaena snorted, squeezing his hand with hers, as the other ruffled Luke's hair. "I've had worse."

"Valaena!" Aegon yelled out, tearing himself free from his uncle's grasp. By now, he was covered in blood. It was coming out of his mouth, his nose, his split brow. One eye was staring to swell and close, pale skin turning deep shades of purple and blue.

"You come anywhere near her and I'll kill you myself!" Jacaerys shot up, hand still holding on his sister's. Lucerys didn't move, eyes trained down on his Valaena's face.

"She's my wife!"

"And our sister! The one you almost killed by playing the jester!" Jace yelled back as he tried to make his way towards his uncle, but Valaena wouldn't let go.

"Have you no shame? None at all..." Luke whispered through sobs, his small hands wrapping around Valaena. "Leave! All of you!"

Aemond and Criston looked at eachother, then nodded. They went over to Aegon, each wrapping a hand around him as they pulled him our of the room.

Despite his protests, Aegon was dragged out. He watched as Valaena wrapped her arms around her brothers, the three of them weeping like children. Then Daemon hid them from his eyes, bloodied hands wrapping around the door handles.

"I have every right to be in there!" Aegon yelled out before his uncle could close the doors shut.

"The love I have for your father is the only reason I'm not killing you, nephew." Daemon spat down on the ground, then his face dissappeared behind the wooden doors.

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"How long, Grand Maester?" Valaena asked as she played with the strings of her tunic. "I wish to go out, all this waiting is driving me mad."

The old man sighed with a smile as he wrapped her hand close to her body.

"Soon, Princess. Your arm is healing fast, but your leg... I think it'd be another fortnight before you can walk."

Valaena leaned back, head slamming into the headboard as she did. She had spent the last two months walking around with crutches and another- bedridden.

All she wanted was to get out of the Red Keep and fly on Quicksilver with Jace and Luke. Her family had abandoned their home on Dragonstone, so they could keep close while she healed.

"It takes time, Princess." The Grand Maester said as he patted her on the other shoulder. The two had grown close, the old man being one of the few people aside from her family, to spend time with her.

In the first month since Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond had brought her back from that cave, the Grand Maester found himself bringing all the books in his possession to her. The Princess Valaena was the one who'd requested it. She'd already read through everything she had. Twice.

"I know, I know...Still, I want out." Valaena said, eyes rolling.

"You do go out..."

Before she could say anything else, the Grand Maester continued.

"I understand, child. But I can't let you do it. You might break it again, and then you'll have to spend twice as much time as you've already done, in here. We don't want that now, do..."

A knock came from the door. Valaena looked away from the maester.

"Come in."

Aegon hesitated for a bit, then opened the door and walked in. His eyes met those of the Grand Maester. He nodded, the man taking the hint.

"Princess! I will be back later this evening..."

"More books?" She pleaded with her eyes.

"I'll see what I can do about it. Though there's barely anything left in my private library, that you haven't read already."

They both chuckled knowingly. Aegon narrowed his eyes, then cleared his throat.

"My Prince! Princess Valaena!" The Grand Maester said as he shook the woman's good hand, then headed for the exit.

The room went quiet as he shut the doors behind his back.

"So...How have you been?"

She didn't answer, but instead threw her legs over the bed and got up. Aegon quickly made his way towards her, arms wrapping around her waist. Valaena let out a hiss, lips curving inwards as she snarled.

"Do not presume to touch me. Ever again..." She pushed him away with one hand, the other resting on the headboard.

Aegon pulled back, head dropping down. He watched her pick the crutch that was resting on the wall.

"Our presence has been requested, later this evening. The King is to host another dinner before your mother and brothers leave for Dragonstone."

She nodded as she wobbled past him. Aegon's hands shot up, then quickly dropped once he noticed the way she was looking at him.

"I will see you later then. Go." Valaena said as she sat down on one of the chairs in their chambers, waving him off.

Aegon opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He'd spent the last few months showering her with all kinds of gifts- books, jewelry, dresses. Nothing helped. The cold look in her eyes stayed the same.

"You wish me to escort you?" He finally asked, after swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Why? You wish to take someone else with you? Perhaps one of your whores?" She hissed out, not even looking up from the book in her lap.

"No, I meant...I haven't been with..." Aegon tried to explain, but Valaena interrupted him.

"That will be all then."

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Aegon was sitting in silence, eyes glued to the plate in front of him. The room was buzzing, his family chatting and laughing. Even Aemond was in a relatively good mood. He was talking to their sister, Helaena, who was sitting between her two brothers.

Valaena was on his right, just as she had on the night their betrothal was announced. She had turned her back to Aegon, her full attention turned to Jace and Luke.

Aegon eyed the wine decanter again. He wanted to pour himself a glass so bad. No, what he wanted was to down the whole thing. But he'd promised. To himself. To her.

Daemon was staring at him from across the table, hiding a smirk behind one hand. He'd spent every free moment of his time back in the capital, tormenting his nephew. In his eyes, the young prince deserved it all. He was the one who had almost killed one of his daughters, after all.

"May I offer you a glass, nephew? Yours is rather empty, don't you think?"

The room fell silent, the tension growing with each second. Aegon looked up at his uncle, but kept silent.

"You are no stranger to it. After all, that's what brought us all here. Let's pour you one." Daemon said as he got up and reached across the table.

"I don't drink. Not anymore."

The Rogue Prince let out an ugly laugh. He rolled his eyes.

"You? The most prolific whoremonger and drunkard of our house? What will you tell us next, nephew? That you've stopped paying visits to your precious whores?"

"Yes. I don't..."

Aegon looked over to Valaena, then his eyes went back his hands that were resting on his thighs. His nails were digging in so deep, he was sure there'd be marks covering his legs soon.

"Daemon, please don't do it..." Rhaenyra said as she looked up at her husband. "Not now..."

"Why? His reckless ways almost cost us our oldest daughter's life." Daemon hissed, eyes never leaving Aegon. "Only a fool would be stupid enough to believe him."

The King sat up, head turning towards his brother.

"Brother, that's enough!"

"You know... if it were up to me, I would have had Valaena wed Jacaerys, dear nephew, as I'd already been planning..." He pressed forward, the glass in his hand slamming against the table. "Instead, in my hopes that we would be able to fix what had been broken, I let you have her. And it still wasn't enough for you."

Before he could finish, both Aegon and Valaena rose to their feet. The Princess tried to walk away, but without her crutch, she found herself having to lean on her husband for support.

"Must we keep digging our fingers in a wound that has yet to heal properly?" She said, angry tears streaming down the warm brown skin of her face. "It's already done."

Valaena tugged at Aegon's sleeve, silently asking him to get her out of the room.

He almost missed it, eyes trained on her face. The Prince shook himself out of the trance as he felt her fingers wrap around his. He pushed her chair back, then led her away. Neither of them saying a word as they walked away, leaving the rest of their family to stare at their backs.

As soon as the guards shut the doors, Jace and Luke started screaming at Daemon. Soon followed the voices of their mother, the King and the Queen.

Valaena hopped away on one foot, arm wrapped around Aegon's neck. She couldn't bare to listen to them yell at eachother again.

"Wait, what?!" A shriek left her mouth as her good foot was lifted of the ground.

Aegon didn't say a word, but instead wrapped his arms tighter around the woman's waist. His other one wasn't even touching her feet, too afraid he might cause more damage to the broken bone.

Valaena tried to protest, even get away from him. Aegon only held her tighter to his chest and walked away, towards their chambers. Her chambers.

After they'd found her in that cave, the Prince took all his possessions and moved to the a smaller room, right next to their chambers. He didn't want to cause her any more pain than he already had, even if he craved to be as close to her as humanly possible. So he stayed away, only ever coming to visit her now and then.

Soon, they reached the doors. The two knights that stood guard, opened them and closed them just as quick.

Aegon walked over to the bed, then sat down. He let out an annoyed huff, his head falling down to Valaena's shoulder without even realizing.

"What did you mean by that?" She asked, slightly flinching as his forehead made contact with the bare skin of her shoulder.

Aegon let out a confused hum, not even bothering to look up at her. He took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of her perfume. Lavender and thyme, it came to him.

"You said you don't drink anymore. And also..." Valaena trailed off.

"Yes."

"Why?" She asked, pulling away to look at him.

The silver haired man looked away, his face turning just a few shades pink. If they weren't so close, Valaena would have missed it. But she didn't.

"You deserve more." Aegon muttered. "More than I've ever been to you."

The Princess hummed, finger reaching to brush away at the short locks of hair that were covering his blue eyes.

"Do you remember how close we were before? You, me, Aemond, Jace and Luke? How we used to run around the castle, wielding those training swords? The jokes we played on Aemond? Then how they'd send us off to find him and apologize?"

Aegon nodded.

"What changed?"

"Everything? We did? The world around us too?"

Valaena shook her head.

"No. They did. They turned us against eachother."

Aegon looked up at her, hand wrapping around her wrist.

"They did this." She pointed towards him. "They did this too."

Her good hand turned towards her.

"It was them that made me believe you are my enemy. And still, I tried..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Why?" Valaena asked, voice going back to its usual coldness.

"I...I don't know. It's always been like that. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you did. There I was, ready to forgive and forget all. I went against my own wishes and desires..."

A shudder ran through Aegon, eyes going down to stare at the floor.

"I agreed to the match. I tried to make you see me as I am. To see you as you are. I gave you my everything. So why?"

Two fingers hooked under his chin and then pulled up. Eyes of blue skies met those of dark waters.

"I was scared." Aegon admitted. "Of your actions, your feelings. I thought you were trying to trick me at first. To make me fall down, be at your mercy. Then you'd lodge one of those daggers in the back of my neck."

He took a breath in as the world around him came crashing down. He wanted to stop, to push her away again. To pour himself a glass, then another and another. To forget. But the words kept spilling out.

"Then I thought you might actually love me. And that scared me even more. I don't think I know what's it like."

"To love?"

"To be loved." He let out a sour, short laugh. "I don't think anyone has. Ever. Not even my own parents. Father just pushes me to the side and mother... Well, you know how she is."

His breath hitched as her good hand wrapped around the back of his neck. The grip he had on her waist tightened even more.

"So you did to me what they've been doing to you? You pushed me away?"

"Yes."

His chin went to rest on her shoulder, Aegon desperately trying to hide his face from her.

"What changed?" Valaena asked.

"The way you looked at me that day...When you stormed in here and saw me with her." Her nails dug in his neck at the memory.

"That's what I felt when I saw you and that silver beast hit the waters." Aegon smiled weakly. "It broke me. It doesn't come close to what you must have felt, but..."

"It doesn't." She interrupted.

"But it crushed me." He ignored her words. "The moment you came flying down past me. Aemond screaming from above that you're falling. Then you dissappeared."

He was now rocking back and forth, his grip getting weaker.

"And just like that, you were gone. And all I wanted to do was follow. It took everything in me to not jump off of Sunfyre that day. But I knew I had to find you." His voice betrayed him. "Because I had finally realized that you did it only because you truly cared. You weren't lying or trying to trick me."

Valaena didn't know what to say. She sat there, in his lap, letting him sob into her shoulder. His tears running down her skin and soaking into her sleeve.

"You might as well be the only person that had ever showed any kind of affection towards me, without me giving something back. And I pushed you away, because I'm a coward..."

"You truly are." She said after a few seconds of him breathing heavily. "And an idiot too..."

Aegon was shaking like a leaf. He expected it. Maybe more. Maybe a slap or a punch to the face. For her to break his nose, just like her father had few months back. He deserved it all.

Instead, she unwrapped her hand from around his neck and placed it on the side of his face, pulling at it so he could face her. His eyes went down, the shame too great for Aegon to ever look at her. A soft pair of lips touched his forehead. Then they pulled away.

"Don't leave me." He begged. "Please. I know I'm a piece of shit and I don't deserve it. But please, don't leave me."

"I have had every chance to do so. Why would I leave now?" She asked.

"Daemon. He said...You and Jacaerys."

"He only said it to spite you. He knows just as well as everyone else, that both me and Jace would sooner put the knife to our hearts..." Valaena rolled her eyes. "Not to mention, I already have a husband."

"One that has done nothing to deserve you."

Aegon finally felt brave enough to look her in the eyes. As he did, a thunder roared somewhere outside of the Red Keep. Just as it had on that cursed day.

"I am so sorry, Val...I will spend the rest of my life regretting what I did to you."

The woman looked away and towards the open window. Then a soft laugh came from her, white locs shaking as she did.

"It has been ears since the last time you called me that."

Aegon started laughing too, the picture of Valaena sitting in his lap and laughing ingrained is his mind forever. It was the first he'd heard her do it in years. He pulled her closer, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

"Would this be a bad time to start?" He asked.

"No...It wouldn't." She replied, arm wrapping around him once more.

They sat there like that, with him smiling like a madman as they listened to the rain. Two roars came from somewhere above their heads.

"Is that...?"

"You were right. It's not fair for me to keep him locked in there." Aegon muttered.

Valaena laughed out again, then she rested her head against his.

"It's getting late. We have to get up early, to send out my family." She whispered.

The smile fell from Aegon's face. He nodded his head, then helped her stand up.

"I will see you on the morrow then." He said as his hands left her, the voice inside his head screaming at him to go back to her.

Before he could walk away, Valaena reached out for him.

"Stay."

Two pairs of eyes met. Ones the shade of clear, bright skies, and the other- of the darkest, most dangerous seas.

He was ready. To dive in those dark, dangerous seas. To let the water fill his lungs, until he could feel nothing else,but the burning sensation of drowning.

She was too. Ready to fly up at those clear, bright skies. To feel the cold wind in her face, until it gets so cold, her heart freezes and shatters into million tiny pieces.

#hotd fanfic #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii x velaryon!reader #aegon ii fanfic #game of thrones #accepting requests #dance of dragons #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #king viserys

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humanpurposes · 11 months

Text

Karma is a God

Chapter 11: The Red Keep

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence

Words: 6400

A/n: also avaliable to read on AO3.

The world is all black, the sky and the sea below her. Somehow she still knows where to go, which way is North, which way will lead her back home.

Home.

Home is not where it used to be.

She feels the spray of saltwater as the waves crash and burst over one another, and suddenly she remembers the hunger aching in her stomach.

Her head plunges into the water and her body after it. She doesn’t feel the cold and it doesn’t surprise her. She dives so far, snatching fish between her jaws, before she resurfaces and bolts into the air.

She does this over and over until the hunger is satisfied.

A light creeps through the sky. The light burns like fire and she feels safe. It tells her it’s time to go.

Home.

She climbs higher into the air. There are no clouds to hide in and it makes her nervous, but she follows her instincts, over the waves, towards the shore and the castle that overlooks the bay. She spreads out her wings and cuts effortlessly through the air.

The red bricks of the keep catch the light of the sun as it inches above the horizon. Her eyes are drawn to a window and a balcony that face south. She can’t explain how she knows what the window means, but she feels it.

Home.

Bound.

Soul.

It’s cold in her bedchamber and the sunrise is starting to glare through the windows.

This is the same chamber she slept in as a child, half her own lifetime ago, but it’s much changed. The tapestries depicting Valryian myths and histories have long been exchanged for what Alicent Hightower must think are more savoury images of Westerosi landscapes, images of the Seven, intertwining vines and branches.

Above the bed there used to be a tapestry that told the story of the conquest. Aegon, with his ruby set crown, his Queens by his side and their dragons dancing in the sky above them, Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar.

In its place now is a painting of a weirwood tree, pale bark, sprawling roots and red leaves gleaming through a scene of night. In its centre a face is carved into the trunk, with red sap bleeding from its eyes. She can’t quite remember what the face means but she thinks Harwin Strong might have known. He used to know all sorts of ancient stories.

She rises in time to see Grey Ghost circle over the city and glide towards the Kingswood. He simply won’t settle in the Dragon Pit, which she supposes is only natural. He’s been wild his whole life, why would he accept confinement now?

Her feet carry her to the balcony and she traces her fingertips over the texture of the worn stone surface of the balustrade.

She can’t escape the sea, it seems. Her bedchamber faces south over the Blackwater and the Kingswood beyond that. If she cannot see it, she hears it, and even when she sleeps she dreams of it.

She used to love the sea.

She used to cling to Laenor’s hand as Jace ran ahead of them, down to the shore underneath the Red Keep to watch the sunrise and paddle her feet in the water. Their father taught them how to swim and how to sail. Rhaenyra used to bring her atop Syrax when Arrax was too little to ride, and they’d glide over the bay. When they came to live at Dragonstone she spent every spare moment she could exploring the rock pools, splashing amongst the waves and drying out on the sand. The sound of the waves used to send her to sleep and tell her that she was home, that she was safe.

She used to love the sea. And now it scares her.

Her handmaiden dresses her in a dark blue silk gown that flows and shimmers like water. Her mother would prefer her to wear black but she can’t stand the colour anymore.

She makes sure to eat most of the food her handmaiden has brought for her, and a cup of tart cherry juice before she walks unaccompanied towards the Small Council chamber.

Whispers follow her once more through the Red Keep.

Princess… Dragonstone… heir…

In Rainwood, they say a ghost circled the bay in the days after she drowned. In the North, rumours spread of an enchantress who drifted into Winterfell on a snowstorm and bewitched Lord Stark into falling deeply in love with her. Those who survived the sacking of Spicetown and Hightide celebrate the dragonrider who brought fire and fury to their attackers. The Black Princess, they call her, who defied the stranger and tamed a wild dragon.

To the world around her she is a tragedy, a cautionary tale for her uncle’s brutality, a Princess thrown into a position that should have been her brother’s, before his untimely demise.

She saw it in the faces of Alicent and Otto Hightower when they were brought before their Queen.

Rhaenyra didn’t rest the night they took the city. She sat encircled in steel swords, the crown of The Consolidator on her head, glowing dimly under the braziers, and demanded every soul in the castle be made to swear their allegiance to her. The ceremony lasted until dawn, Rhaenyra keeping a firm grip on the arms of the Iron Throne until her hands bled.

Daemon stood before their prisoners, Dark Sister unsheathed and lowered by his side. Lord Corlys, Baela, and the Lords of the Black Council watched on.

Luke stood below the throne in her red riding robes and silver breastplate, her sword on her hip and her dark curls flowing proudly down her back, made wild and unruly by her flight on dragonback.

Otto Hightower came first, with the other Lords of the Green Council.

Daemon gave him the same order he had given every other Lord, Lady, knight, maid, servant, cook and stableboy. “Swear fealty to Rhaenyra as your Queen, and Princess Lucerra as heir to the Iron Throne.”

Luke realised Otto was staring at her, his eyes heavy with what she might have named as remorse– if she thought him capable of it.

Then he glared up at the Queen.

“I recognise only one sovereign, our rightful King.”

Luke hardly flinched as Dark Sister sliced clean through his neck, and soon after the neck of Jasper Wylde. She watched their bodies slump unceremoniously and their blood paint the floor, just as she had watched Vaemond Velaryon meet the same end.

Alicent’s presence in the hall was announced by a gasping shriek. She wept at the sight of her father’s remains, clasping one hand over her mouth and reached behind her with the other. Helaena hardly seemed aware of what was happening around her, clinging onto the arm of a handmaiden, keeping her head hung and her eyes fixed upon the ground beneath her feet. When her mother reached for her, she flinched away.

“Swear fealty to Rhaenyra as your Queen, and Princess Lucerra as heir to the Iron Throne,” Daemon said, proudly and clearly.

Alicent’s red eyes trailed around the room, and settled on Luke. She stared at her like she was terrified of her, as though she had seen a ghost.

If Alicent and Otto had believed her to be dead she wondered what the chances were of Aemond thinking the same.

“Call a great council,” Alicent uttered, looking up to Rhaenyra. She came to her knees, soaking her gown in the pool of blood, clasping her hands before her chest. “Call a council as the Old King once did, and the Lords may decide who to crown King or Queen. No more blood needs to be spilled!” she pleaded as she began to sob.

Luke looked to her mother. Rhaenyra’s eyes seemed to go right through her old friend. She had been willing to negotiate in the early days, before the dispute became a war, before she had started to bury her children.

“We know how a great council would rule,” she said. Her voice was quiet but furious in a way her father had never been.

Any hope then that the Dowager Queen might have had shattered. Her grief became desperation, which in turn became fury. She dragged herself to her feet, her face red, blood trailing down her skirts. “Then where does this end? You have the city but you will not hold it for long. My son Aemond will return with fire and blood when he learns of this!”

Luke clung onto the way her voice faltered when she said his name.

Rhaenyra tilted her head to Daemon. He seemed to understand this command and ordered that Alicent and Helaena be taken to their chambers and guarded as prisoners.

Did Alicent condemn her son when he returned from Storm’s End, or did she celebrate his victory as Aegon had? Did she truly think he would be foolish enough to advance on all their dragons? Unless she thought his love for his family would spur him. That wasn’t a question Luke could answer. She didn’t know of Aemond’s love for his family, or if there was anything in his heart other than hatred and cruelty.

She takes her place amongst the Small Council, standing over her mother’s shoulder as she sits at the head of the table. Daemon sits to her right and Baela stands behind her father. Lord Celtigar of Claw Isle, Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point and Maester Geradys sit to the Queen’s left, and at the other head sits Lord Corlys, flanked by Alyn and Addam Velaryon. Ser Steffon, Ser Lorent and Ser Erryk stand to the side of the chamber.

Rhaenyra’s first order is that word be sent to the Eyrie, to summon Joffrey and Rhaena to King’s Landing.

Luke’s heart leaps at the hope of seeing her brother and sister again, but that hope is dispelled when she thinks of the grief that could resurface when she will get to see them.

Daemon is overseeing the questioning of Tyland Lannister, who, despite being tortured and gelded, has refused to give them any word of the crown’s treasury.

“They have left us with nothing,” Daemon says, “we cannot keep the city without gold.”

“What would you propose we do?” Lord Corlys asks, his tone subtle but scathing. He’s been irritable at best since the sacking of Hightide and Spicetown. At worst, council meetings turn into shouting matches between him and Daemon.

Luke doesn’t blame him. From Ser Laenor she knew Lord Corlys is a proud man, gradually worn down with loss after loss. What is he now? A childless widower and the Lord of an island in ruins.

Daemon smirks as he always does when he senses tension, he smells it like a shark to blood. “We increase taxes on the smallfolk. They bowed to a usurper. Now they can pay to rebuild the city’s defences.”

“They themselves have nothing,” Corlys says.

“Security comes at a price,” Daemon returns, coldly, “they will be grateful for their Queen’s protection.”

Rhaenyra nods in agreement and the other Lords follow.

“War costs us all,” Lord Bar Emmon adds, “sacrifices must be made.”

Corlys quirks his brow and his eyes fall to Luke. She remains as impassive as she can, hands tight behind her back, fingertips stroking over her own skin. There’s never much point in trying to argue against Daemon.

And he has other announcements. “We have yet to hear of Aegon’s whereabouts.”

The false King had seemingly vanished before they reached the Red Keep, along with his son, the Conqueror’s crown and his last remaining son. Larys Strong has also not been seen.

They know they couldn’t have left the city on foot or by horseback, Daemon insists, the gold cloaks would have spotted them, but if they had left by sea they wouldn’t have made it past the Velaryon fleet.

“Could they be somewhere in the city?” Rhaenyra says, “my brother used to frequent the slums, perhaps he has burrowed like a rat.”

“If Aegon were still in King’s Landing we would know,” Daemon says, quickly.

Corlys frowns and taps his finger against the table.

Daemon continues, “we will not relent in our search, but for now there is the question of the other Princes.”

There is a noticeable shift in the air.

“Aemond is at Harrenhal and Daeron marches with the Hightowers. They will be looking to King’s Landing, waiting for the moment to strike–”

“So we strike first,” Luke says before she can stop herself.

The eyes of the room fall to her, just as they did during the councils on Dragonstone. Everytime she speaks she feels as though she’s done something wrong, disturbed the room in some way.

Daemon watches her expectantly so she continues. “Vhagar is more powerful than any dragon we possess, but we can overwhelm her. If we draw Aemond out to fight he will take the bait.”

“But he holds a defensive position,” Daemon says. “We could send our dragons to Harrenhal and in the meantime, we give Daeron an opportunity to attack while we are otherwise distracted.”

“We don’t need to attack Aemond until it is necessary,” Corlys says, “either he maintains his position or he flys to King’s Landing, in which case he will have to face eight other dragons.”

A sinking feeling strikes her gut. It occurs to her that her grandfather has never tried to argue against her before. “So we do nothing?” she says.

“We fight when we need to,” Daemon says.

“And give the Greens the time they need to amass a significant opposition?” she protests.

The Queen raises her hand. “Enough, Lucerra.”

She does not object to her mother, and listens to the rest of the Small Council in silence.

When the council is dismissed Daemon places a hand on her shoulder and leans in to mutter, “fear not, Princess, you’ll get your chance.”

She stares up at him, at the undeniable excitement in his eyes, that simmering bloodlust she has come to know well.

He tells her to change into her leathers and meet him in the courtyard.

When she arrives, Baela is with him, her own sword drawn and ready to train.

Outside of her duties she spends most of her time training, in the courtyard after Small Council meetings, or she rides out to the Kingswood with Baela and Daemon, if he can spare the hours. They spar and Luke betters her skills with her bow. First she shoots at tree trunks but lately Daemon wants her to hunt too,

She can shoot from horseback now. She keeps one hand on the reins, her grey mare following Daemon’s black stallion through the forest. When she spots the movement of a smaller animal she draws an arrow and releases it to pierce the creature’s head, leaving it for the dogs to retrieve. Only once or twice has she shot a deer. They are larger and easier to spot, but Daemon says it is precision that makes her dangerous. When the Greens start recruiting rabbit and squirrels her skills will come in very handy, but she keeps that joke to herself.

She enjoys sparring with Baela. She’s elegant when she wields a blade, evasive and precise, but Luke is stronger than her.

Baela moves first and Luke meets her with a firm block, then a quick move to an offensive.

“You cannot rely on strength” Daemon calls, “stay alive until you find the weak point.”

Baela struggles against the power of Luke’s blows but she can endure a fight well enough to wait for the right moment to take control again.

Baela lifts her sword and Luke pushes against her, but when the steel clashes, she falters. A searing pain shoots through her chest, where bruises still mark her skin.

Baela stops instantly and reaches her arms out to help her, but Luke gently pushes her hands away.

“You’ll have to fight through it,” Daemon says. “No opponent you face will be as considerate as your sister.”

Luke scowls. She doesn’t need to be told that.

The pain has lessened with time but it’s still there, aching with every step she takes back to her chambers.

When she bathes she runs her hands carefully over the purple and yellow patches of skin around her ribs, sternum and stomach.

They make her think of him and what he did to her. But in turn she thinks of the marks she left on him.

Baela says the two aren’t comparable, bruises and scars, by which she means the circumstances. Luke picked up the knife to protect her brother. Aemond mounted Vhagar to seek retribution and so his brother could claim a crown that was not his.

But what’s the point, she thinks, surely it is all pain?

It’s been months and she still flinches at the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. She still dreams of the sea, the vast expanse of cold, suffocating water.

Her maid comes to rub oils into her skin and face, to comb through her curls while her hair is wet and dress her in a comfortable gown.

She tries to make a habit of visiting her aunt when she can, in the evenings before she is expected for dinner.

The prisoners are kept separately, Helaena in the Queen’s chambers, and Alicent in the tower of the Hand. Daemon had suggested moving Helaena to other quarters and leaving the Queen’s chambers for Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra refused, insisting she wanted to disturb her sister as little as possible.

They speak of her as though she is fragile, one wrong word and she’ll shatter like glass.

The guard opens the door and Luke announces her own arrival in a delicate voice.

Helaena sits by her window, her silver hair and white gown look more golden in the light of the sunset. Her body and her eyes face North, to the Dragonpit, Luke realises when she gets close enough to look.

They usually spend their visits in a settled silence, until Helaena turns to look up at her.

“I dreamt of you,” she says.

“Something nice, I hope,” Luke says.

She stares bewilderedly, as though Luke has told her a joke and she doesn’t understand it. She shifts along the windowsill, patting the space beside her.

Luke sits, shivering at the cold emitting through the stone below her and the glass behind her.

“May I?”

She faces Helaena and her outstretched arm. She nods and Helaena’s hand settles on her cheek, staring at a space below her eye. The cut Aemond left has faded now, but Helaena looks at the skin sadly, like she can still see it.

“He did this,” Helaena whispers simply.

Not just the faded cut, the bruises and the nightmares. Not even just Arrax, Rhaenys and Meleys. The Blacks hold the city because Aemond wasn’t here to stop them. Now Helaena is a prisoner, and she cannot even find comfort in the presence of her only living child.

Does she blame him?

Helaena withdraws her hand from Luke’s face and holds her hands in her lap, tracing patterns over her own palms. “He would never admit it, but I believe Aemond is ruled by his emotions more than anything else. He can be hard to make sense of, and to know that is to understand him.”

“Do you dream of him?” Luke asks.

Helaena frowns. “In fragments,” she says, “I’ve seen rage and grief. Blood and water. Green and black. Blue and red. Dragons and ghosts.”

“And what about me?”

Helaena hesitates.

“You can tell me,” Luke whispers, gently placing her hand on Helaena’s wrist.

She looks up from her lap. For once her eyes aren’t vacant. They’re wide and bright and blue.

“There is a trail of blood. It flows to you. It ends with you.”

She’s uncomfortably aware of her chest rising and falling. “The blood ends with me?”

Helaena’s head lolls towards her shoulder, her face starting to twist and her eyes well with tears. She reaches her free arm to her side, fingers stroking and clawing at the stone walls.

“Please…” she starts to stutter through her sobs. “Please… no more. No more.”

Luke tries to help her stand, calling for the guard.

“Fetch her ladies maids,” Luke says, gradually leading Helaena towards the bed.

“She is a prisoner,” the guard says.

“She is still the sister to the Queen!” Luke snaps. “Or find a handmaiden, anyone, I don’t want her to be left alone!”

The guard returns with two handmaidens. One carries a pot of mint tea, while the other takes Helaena’s arm from Luke and helps to settle her on the bed.

She regrets having to leave her, crying and clawing at the sheets and the mattress, reaching for something she won’t find.

Dinner is quiet. Mostly Baela and young Aegon speak excitedly of Joffrey and Rhaena’s return from the Vale. The raven has been sent and it should only take them a matter of days. Joffrey and Tyraxes could make the journey faster, but he is strictly to stay with Rhaena’s ship, away from the Riverlands.

Her maid isn’t waiting for her when she returns to her chamber. She begins to undo her jewellery and the first few strings on her gown.

Something distracts her– a soft noise from somewhere in her chamber.

She pauses, letting go of the laces at the back of her gown.

Her skin feels tight, her chest restless and jittery, like she’s being watched.

She holds her breath and waits for another sound, but all she hears are the waves of Blackwater Bay rolling over the shore.

She stands frozen until her maid returns with laundry in her arms. She apologises for not being there when the Princess returned but it hadn't crossed Luke’s mind to be angry about it.

“Did you see anyone?” Luke asks.

The maid stutters, perhaps confused by the informality. “Princess?”

“I thought…” but Luke trails off. Her eyes dart around the room and she takes a few steps to peer round the few corners where someone could hide.

It was one sound in a single moment. She comes to the conclusion that it was nothing.

“Nevermind, it might have been a rat.”

Then she spots something, by the foot of the bed, a small white shape, half hidden under the bedsheets trailing on the floor.

She tries not to look at it until the maid has put away the laundry, undressed her and helped her change into a nightshift.

“Will that be all, Princess?”

“Yes, thank you,” Luke says with a gracious smile.

Once the door is closed she looks about the room once more, expecting something to happen, for someone to jump out at her in a cruel jest. Still nothing, just the stillness of an empty room and the sound of the sea.

The shape by the bed is a small piece of paper. She picks it up with the tips of her fingers to inspect it. She turns it over and makes a note of the seal, a winged insect on amber wax.

She keeps a knife beside her bed. She takes it and carefully slices open the page, so as not to break the seal.

There is only one line, written in a hand she does not recognize, and with no signature.

The Hightowers advance faster than you think.

The days slip by. Corlys and Daemon continue to bicker. Aegon and Maelor are nowhere to be found.

She continues to train and hunt. Baela takes young Aegon for walks about the garden every day, and sometimes Luke is inclined to join.

Rhaenyra doesn’t want them going down to the beach below the keep, so they circle the fountains, the roses and the orchards. They each hold one of young Aegon’s hands, encouraging him to trail his hand under running water or climb one of the apple trees.

Their little brother has never been particularly adventurous, but he’s only retreating more into himself. It’s not how a child should be. He should be running through the corridors of the castle, causing mischief and getting into scrapes with his siblings.

Only Joffrey and Rhaena are far away in the Vale, and Jace and Viserys are gone.

Baela finds two sticks and tries to show him how to duel, which Luke thinks could come back to haunt her if he picks up a habit for hitting things. She had been like that when her uncle Aegon first taught her how to punch.

They walk on until they reach the Godswood and the single weirwood that stands proudly in the shadow of the keep. Aegon seems more content here, settling amongst the roots, tearing blades of grass from the ground and letting them fall through his fingers.

Luke and Baela share an amused look to have finally found a passtime worthy of his attention.

She looks upon the face carved into the tree, red sap falling from its eyes, just like the painting above her bed.

“My father says you’re keen to attack Harrenhal,” Baela says.

Her eyes instinctively check the sky, even though she knows it's foolish. She drags her eyes back to the face on the weirwood and focuses on her breathing, in and out, slowly through her nose.

There comes that restless feeling, but she reminds herself that the eyes on the carved face are just that, carvings, shallow markings in wood.

“I can’t say I blame you,” Baela says.

She watches the trails of red fall from the eyes, as heavy and as vibrant of blood.

There is a trail of blood. It flows to you. It ends with you.

She wasn’t there to save Jace or Viserys. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were killed in her name. Rhaenys was taken as a fair exchange.

But she drew the first blood. The scar on her uncle’s face and the sapphire in his maimed socket is evidence of that.

This war, this trail of blood, it all comes back to her.

“This is all my fault,” she utters.

She feels the weight of Baela’s hand on her shoulder. “Don’t say that, Luke.”

Driftmark, the knife, an eye lost and a dragon gained. Whose fault was it if not hers that Aemond has grown to be the man he is?

Storm’s End, a failed negotiation, the flash of fire. She could have flown faster. She could have given Aemond her eye. She could have waited out the storm.

It ends with you.

Only she doesn’t see an end. She sees lives exchanged like currency, even by her own hands, the men of Tyrosh as payment for the lives lost on Driftmark and for her brothers.

They won’t escape the cycle of bloodshed. Her mother’s reign will never be secure while the sons of King Viserys live.

She could fly to Harrenhal and finally claim the debt she is owed, for the pain, for the war, because she used to love the sea and now she constantly feels like she’s drowning.

“Luke?”

Baela’s soft hands cup her cheeks, turning her gaze away from the face on their weirwood and to her.

She feels the dampness and the cold trail her tears leave when a breeze drifts across her skin. She doesn’t see Baela’s eyes. She sees Vhagar’s open jaws and hears Aemond’s threats whispered by the wind.

Would he revel in the chance to kill her a second time, to finish what he started above Shipbreaker Bay?

The Hightowers advance faster than you think.

Patience is a virtue, she discovers, the ability to stand in a room of Lords plotting their war, and simply listening.

Their scouts have no word of where the Hightower host is, how far they are from King’s Landing. None of the scouts they send ever come back.

“They’ve all become dragonfeed no doubt,” Daemon grumbles.

“So send dragons,” Luke says.

Corlys and Daemon seem impressed by the idea. She can’t see her mother’s face, but she sees how Daemon looks at her, attempting to convince her through his own exasperation. It’s an obvious solution, to another dragon rider at least.

“Tessarion is not Vhagar, but it could still be dangerous,” Corlys warns.

“Let me lead,” Luke says, “I can distract Daeron while the others decimate the army.”

“Your daughter has an eye for efficiency,” Daemon says to Rhaenya, reaching for her wrist. It is a feat she proved the night Driftmark was attacked. One she will prove again, as many times as it takes.

Wood scrapes against stone and Rhaenyra’s black robes fall around her as she turns to face her daughter.

Her eyes are empty, the face of a woman who has lost too much and may never know peace again.

“I let you fly before,” she says, reaching for Luke’s wrist. “I will not lose you, not again.”

Luke holds her hand over her mother’s. “But I returned in the end, mother. For as long as you need me, I will always come back to you.”

In less than two days she dons her riding robes and silver armour, and rides out to the Kingswood to mount Grey Ghost. The others join her soon after, flying from the Dragonpit. Baela and Moondancer, Nettles and Sheepstealer, Addam and Seasmoke. Daemon had suggested bringing Silverwing and Vermithor, but there’s something about Hugh and Ulf that Luke doesn’t trust.

They take flight after dusk and follow the Rose Road, over Tumbleton, Fawnton and Bitterbridge, staying hidden in the clouds. They don’t know exactly where they’ll find the Hightower host, but they know what to do once they find it.

It’s not hard to miss the mass of men, horses and tents and the flickering of torches below them. The army has made camp by the river, on the bank opposite Cider Hall.

The notes was right, they’ve made quick progress. With their numbers, she hadn’t expected them to be past Highgarden yet, but here they are, inching closer and closer to the capital.

The others hover expectantly around her. There won’t be anywhere to hide once they dip below the clouds.

She tightens her grip on Grey Ghost’s reins, willing herself to be ready for another exchange of lives. She reminds herself of how many men they’ve lost at Duskendale, Rook’s Rest and the Gullet. She reminds herself of the family she’s lost.

This is war. Nothing is fair, so it is all fair.

Grey Ghost reacts before she even notices, jerking up and sideways as a burst of fire shoots from below them.

Moondancer, Sheepstealer and Seasmoke disperse as a blue dragon erupts from the clouds, with open jaws and a throaty, howling roar.

“GO!” she screams to the others.

Moondancer and Seasmoke dive down towards the camp as Sheepstealer pounces on Tessarion.

The Blue Queen is larger than she had imagined, larger than Vermax was and smaller than Grey Ghost, but that does not make her less formidable. She’s quick, twisting and evading Sheepstealer’s comparatively sluggish attacks with his teeth and claws.

The silver hair of her rider isn’t hard to spot in the moonlight and the flashes of fire.

She urges Grey Ghost forward, coming at Tessarion and Sheepstealer from above, forcing them further down.

The three dragons descend through the clouds, growling and sending bursts of flame from their mouths to make sense of the grey haze around them.

She hears a low, brutal shriek, followed by a stream of fire, hurtling towards her and Grey Ghost.

They rush down, through deafening wind, back through the clouds.

The fire below them burns as brightly as the sun, from the river to the Rose Road itself. Baela and Addam have been unforgiving in their assault. Thousands of men scream, but their cries are distant to her from this height.

She looks behind and above her, waiting to see which dragon will emerge first.

The bronze scales and the size of Sheepstealer are evident, but he’s falling more than he is flying and something dark trails from his body.

She pulls the reins to the right as hard as she can, towards Sheepstealer and Nettles clinging to his back. Luke screams her name as a colossal force slams into her dragon.

She screams again, in agony as she feels the sharp, searing pain of claws digging into Grey Ghost’s side. Tessarion keeps flying, pushing them further and further away from Sheepstealer.

Luke meets Daeron’s eyes. She can feel the heat from the fire below them, illuminating his face and violet eyes in a fierce golden light.

His eyes are the same shade of violet as Aemond’s.

But his face drops into horror when he truly sees her. The same kind of horror in Alicent’s face that night in the throne room.

His moment of hesitation is all they need. Grey Ghost rears his head, biting through Tessarion’s hide, where her neck meets her wing. Blood spurts around them as the dragons struggle for direction, locked together and bound to fall into the fire.

“Irughagon!” she orders. Release.

Grey Ghost relents his jaws from Tessarion and manages to scramble his way from her claws. Only for her to come back faster and angrier.

Luke tries to look for Sheepstealer and Nettles, but all she sees are flames, blue and grey scales and hissing hot blood as Grey Ghost and Tessarion continue to tear at each other.

The voice in her head isn’t hers.

Death.

Grey Ghost slashes a talon along Tessarion’s belly.

Death.

Tessarion soars past them, clawing her way through a scar on Grey Ghost’s rear leg as she goes by.

Death.

They circle back, hurtling towards each other. The dragons open their jaws as fire blooms in their bellies, threatening to bathe both Luke and Daeron in flame.

Perhaps this is the moment she will truly meet the Stranger, but she feels oddly at peace with her gloved hand against Grey Ghost’s scales.

Death.

It’s like she can feel the air around him, every movement, his wings slicing through the air.

Death.

The ground is closer than she realised.

She closes her eyes.

A dragon approaches with its jaws open. She feels the fire rising in her own throat.

Something wants to pull her back. Her rider tells her to duck, to avoid the flames.

Instead she rears up, thrashing in the air until the weight is gone from her back.

She opens her eyes. She checks her hands and clenches them to make sure they are there and that they are her own.

Grey Ghost has halted, his wings beating furiously through the thick, black smoke rising from the camp as it burns.

And Tessarion is chasing after Daeron as he falls into fire.

She spurs Grey Ghost on to follow them.

The ground is soft with ash, the air thick with smoke and alight with embers where there are no flames.

She slips from Grey Ghost’s back, keeping her hand on the golden seahorse hilt of her sword.

She sees the bright blue scales through the clouds of smoke and ash.

Tessarion watches her as she approaches, on her side and almost cradling a body in her claws. She expects the dragon to snap at her, or at least growl, but she just stares at her through large bronze eyes, huffing through her snout. Not quite docile, but not poised to attack.

Luke looks down, to the body. Daeron lies with half of his face in the ground.

Tessarion had thrown him from her back. She saw it– no, she felt it happen.

She doesn’t care that she cannot breathe the air, the ash fluttering about her eyes or the heat scorching her through her armour. She keeps her eyes on Daeron’s chest and waits.

Until his hand claws at the charred earth underneath him. She hears a faint grunt as he props himself on his hands and hauls himself to his knees.

What a sight must she make, standing amongst the ruins of his army, her dragon bleeding and snarling behind her, the flames gleaming on the silver and iron layered like dragon scales across her torso.

She doesn’t unsheath her sword. She doesn’t utter the command that would have Grey Ghost leave nothing of him but blackened bones.

He staggers against Tessarion. With his eyes still on her, he drags himself up to the saddle, his body slumping against the leather.

He nods to her and she doesn’t react.

She watches as Tessarion turns and bounds from the ground, flying well despite her injuries.

Addam finds her drawing her hands over the gashes in Grey Ghost’s side, her gloves discarded and her palms painted with her dragon’s blood.

“Baela’s got Nettles,” he says, “she’ll be alright, but Tessarion managed to take a whole chunk out of Sheepstealer’s neck.”

Seasmoke calls impatiently, shifting and huffing at the thickness of the air and the pained cries of those who are still alive.

“We need to go, get the dragons seen to, get somewhere we can all breathe, yeah?”

Luke nods. The voice in her head that isn’t hers calls for home.

Addam takes a step closer to her, careful not to touch Grey Ghost. “You let him go. I saw it.”

She bites down on a piece of flesh inside her mouth. “Did Baela see?”

“Not as far as I can tell.”

Daemon would never forgive her if he found out.

She turns to face him. His frown resembles Lord Corlys’, down to the silver brows, the downturned lips and the look of concern in his brown eyes.

“You won’t tell anyone,” she says.

He looks as though he’s about to speak, but he must breath in a mouthful of smoke before he starts coughing and spluttering with his fist in front of his mouth.

Seasmoke is only getting more restless.

“You won’t tell anyone,” Luke says again.

Addam shakes his head. “Where do you think he’ll go?” he chokes out, eyes turning to the empty space they have left behind.

Luke grips the saddle and starts to pull herself up onto Grey Ghost’s back.

Daeron and Tessarion had set off North and she has no doubt she knows where they are headed.

“He’ll go to Harrenhal.”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Karma is a God taglist: @boundlessfantasy @toodlesxcuddles @starwarsslut @skikikikiikhhjuuh @arcielee

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #my fics #karma is a god

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planofuniverse · 2 years

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Starry starry night octopus 🌠🌠 📍Pulau dua, Indonesia #uw #uwmacro #uwphotography #uwmacrophotography #uwpic #underwater #macro #underwaterphoto #underwaterphotography #blackwater #wildlife #wildlifephotography #underwaterworld #diving #scuba #scubadiving #underwatermacro #nudibranch #nudi #seaslug #coral #shrimp #crab #indonesiadivingtrip #olympus #starrynightoctopus #pulaudua #pulauduadiving (at Balantak Pulau Dua) https://www.instagram.com/p/Che8frivMrM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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samimarkart · 2 months

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Blackwater Dive prints available now here! I appreciate any monetary support this month to offset submission fees I paid this week for multiple art opportunities! keep your fingers crossed for me, hopefully you’ll be seeing some art of mine out in the Chicago area again soon :)

take 20% off with code RZXZHAU on my inprnt this month

#my art #art print #marine biology #quilt #plankton #deep sea #crab #shrimp #merch

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thesamoanqueen · 2 years

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Blackwater

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: Omegaverse (AlphaRoman/ Y-NOmega); Werewolf AU; errors after errors after errors after errors after errors...

A/N: Its the first chap of this fic, im trying something new. For those who don’t know what The Omegaverse is, its a scenario where people are divided into Alpha, Beta and Omega. I won't go into detail and I will try to explain it inside the story, but know that usually Alphas are the dominant elements, they have power over others, especially their designated mates. Omegas are not always seen good elements for society cause they are unstable, especially during the time they have heat. The story was requested me by @ichdrachenfrau and when I imagine Roman as a werewolf, this scenario doesnt come out of my head, so I hope you will like it too.

Buses were never a good idea, too tight spaces, too many people around to poke their noses where they shouldn't. But she didn't have many other choices left to take without documents and after all, trips like that also had their positive sides. The windows in the buses were huge and allowed her to always monitor where she was or in which direction she was going, giving her time to react and get a precise idea. Nobody hunted her there, it was a new area, but she had learned to be cautious, watch her back and precautions were never enough when you crossed the territory of a pack and there was a big one there from what she had heard. But it didn’t mattered anyway, she wouldn't cause any problems and she would board the first ship leaving for the south as soon as possible, hoping to cross some border maybe where the lack of her documents wouldn't be an insurmountable problem as there.

She rested her chin on her hand, the road rushing past the glass and endless rows of trees everywhere.

They were skirting the Blackwater Reserve, in direction of the city where the bus would have its terminus. From there other vehicles, other drivers, other roads departed. A form of smart precaution not to give too much freedom to those who came from outside, while keeping the borders under control and open. She liked that place, there were Atlantic white cedars everywhere, magnolias and azaleas, the sound of the river reached her ears despite the bus engine and for some strange reason, it seemed to almost comfort her mind in turmoil. It was a beautiful place and somehow reminded her of home or the faded memory she had, Y/N smiled, she would see home again soon and then those forests would fade.

***

Standing on the edge of the bridge, he watched the river flow unchecked beneath them, his hands tucked into the pockets and the dark waters watching him. Somewhere in the middle of the forest, there must be the old collapsed bridge from which as a kid he dived with his cousins or maybe it was no longer there, it seemed a life ago. In those days Roman had no other thoughts, spent day and night outside the house, running among the trees, bathing in the river, eating wherever he could thanks to his father role. Now he was the one to provide for everyone, to ensure that other kids went around ignoring what was beyond their borders, the very thought of it led him to run a hand on his temple, where the wound was still throbbing.

It had been a bad deal, lasted even longer than he would have liked, but it had to be done and it was over now. The world had moved on, it was no longer that of his father or of those who had come before him, the economy was spinning, you could not isolate yourself. Their blood was watered down, it was full of betas out there that had been given fillers they shouldn't have, pumped alphas that made big voice without really knowing how to stand up to it, identical omegas that weren't right even to relieve a little bit of tension, most people had even forgotten how to shift. The packs that remained faithful to the past had had to adapt, compromise, be smart and find other ways to maintain control, but it still happened that some beast jumped out of nowhere claiming what did not belong to them and then you had to be ready to pour some blood.

- We could expand the refreshment areas by reopening the stretch over the bridge, some camping areas, a couple of rowing facilities - he heard the men chattering behind him, a group of betas and two alphas in suits and ties arrived there from the city.

They even put on helmets. Helmets… as if they were going to climb or extract stones from a mine, weak. He pursed his lip and a shiver of nervousness moved his body, his aura suddenly widening, chilling them all without exception. They made proposals, them. To him.

- No.

- My Tribal Chief? - Paul mumbled submissively next to them, a folder in his hands and his gaze wandering worriedly over him.

Roman remained with his eyes fixed on the river, the black water flowing silently ignoring each of them and returned his hand to his pocket, reaching the car in a few steps without waiting for anyone else.

He had to compromise, do business and feed each of his people, but he dictated his rules in his land and the deals were deals. His family came before everyone, no matter how much money they had to make, he wasn't going to sell his home to groups for trips, picnics or churning out bastard puppies in camping tents. He had consented to those things on specific plots, along the borders, not on what his blood considered sacred.

- From the bridge up it's for us. - he reminded everyone.

- As you like my Tribal Chief - Heyman indulged him with a little curtsy, exchanging the last goodbye chatter with the businessmen.

Roman didn't deign to greet them, didn't even look at them, didn't care. His phone vibrated in his pocket, as it had been doing continuously for years now, a flood of news and monitoring that came from the most distant places, from everyone, even those who did not have a mental connection with him. A few minutes passed and the wiseman sat down next to him, talking about details, future meetings, trips to be made in the city to meet face to face who knows who. Those matters bored him, but usually he was able to pay enough attention to know the bare essentials about the money they were going to make, the benefits they were going to get, but today he was less interested than the previous ones. The wound throbbed, yet that wasn't what made him uncomfortable, he had a strange feeling on him, something he had never felt and could not explain and all he wanted was to go home after two weeks of traveling, rest and run. With his back relaxed against the suv seat, he closed his eyes and listened: the engine of the car, the trees that followed one after the other between the curves of road, the gravel under the tires, too many voices crammed together, maybe a bus... the river.

***

She put the bag on the floor, looking at the entire house from the kitchen, living room, recreational area. Two windows on one side, one on the other and two skylights on the mezzanine where they had placed the bed.

- There is a motel in town and they have a real hotel on the military base. They also have a restaurant with a chef. - the woman who had welcomed her repeated for the umpteenth time, a condescending smile that served as a certificate of presentation and her eyes trying not to look at Y/N again.

She and her husband, a big man from the islands that Y/N had been waiting for disappeared around the estate before crossing the door - just to avoid any further risks - managed that small group of rooms for campers who could not find a place in the areas dedicated. It was more a house where you could pitch your tent without permission than a hospitality business, but at that moment for Y/N a car seat would have been fine too, a fact that the woman evidently found it hard to believe judging by her behavior. Y/N had seen her arrange the cushions on the armchair and the vase at the entrance at least a dozen times, even she was not in front of a judge or her mother-in-law. She was anxious, her body began to emit an unmistakable smell and Y/N took off her shoes and distractedly tied her hair, to give her an impression of normality.

- The room is perfect, I just need to rest maybe a day or two and then I will go. - she explained casually, giving that information to reassure her.

She had already had enough meetings that day, she didnt need a worried omega ready to go crazy for her high heels. She really just wanted a place to recover some energy before leaving and there was no reason to create unnecessary problems or attract more attention.

- I can prepare you something... if you are hungry - she proposed a little quieter, while Y/N looked around more carefully, reaching the top of the stairs that led to the mezzanine.

- Maybe later.

- Sure, I'll let you rest, sure... I'll go then. - she finally greeted her, closing the door after a last moment of hesitation and Y/N waited to see her walk away from the window before moving.

She closed the lock more out of habit than out of necessity and headed for the bathroom, taking a shower before putting on something more comfortable, that didn't smell like buses and waffles. After half an hour spent taking care of her body, she finally let herself sink into the armchair next to the window, her legs between the soft pillows and a cup in her hands. Her muscles had relaxed, her back no longer bothered her from the hours of travel and all the exchanges she had made, there was a pleasant silence in that place and although the decor was not at all to her liking with all those lace and wooden wall units everywhere, even that little cottage she didn't mind.

Yet Y/N just couldn't understand what seemed out of place... she had a strange feeling, a tingle under her skin that had bothered her since she had crossed that state line and that had grown stronger inside the Blackwater reserve. She liked that place, there was a peaceful, green atmosphere everywhere, nothing to motivate that annoyance. Maybe it was the pack presence, those two in the city had not been very friendly... that guy in a tank top had smelled her across the street.

She checked her phone carefully, there was no warnings and her calendar had no notes. She was still very much away from her next heat, she had planned the trip at that time on purpose and she hadn't experienced any signs of failure in the previous weeks. In her bag she had a whole box of suppressants. It couldn't have been her smell that called him, maybe he just recognized something different and snapped, it was a thing that often happened to the alphas, they were territorial, competitive and if they knew how to shift – as Y/N suspected for those two - it got worse.

She dropped the phone on the windowsill, resting her head on the back with a sigh, and surveyed the portion of the property that could be seen from there. The well-kept garden, the fence, the road that went up towards the refreshment areas and the row of trees that bordered the wood. She was thinking too much and worried about the rest of the trip, it had nothing to do with that place. She just wanted to go home.

***

He'd found them waiting for him on the back porch messing around as usual, yelling at each other under Solo's bored gaze. Where they found all that puppy energy when they were grown up, Roman could not explain, but his cousins had always been like this for as long as he could remember and the same was true for Naomi, so everything was normal. More or less.

- Hey Big Uce - she greeted him, without removing the arms from her chest and Jimmy quickly echoed her with one of his smiles, but Roman hardly paid any attention.

- What happen to your face? - he asked, studying Jey who was sitting on the steps.

His cheekbone was swollen, skin tight as if it had been about to open. It was not a fall, that was a blow and also given well. Had he been missing for two weeks, had he entrusted everything to them while he was away and now he found him like this?

- Guess what? He deserved it. - Naomi clarified, swinging her head as offended, Jey widened his chest.

- You two should have lemme do it! They held me back! - he barked, jumping to his feet.

- Sure we held you back, you can't go around sniffing who's passing by Uce! - Jimmy tried to make him think about it, a feat that he had been trying from birth and without results.

- Hey hey! I had a reason, that one smelled strange! And she kicked me, its normal? Hm, its normal?!

- You scared everyone on da bus! Y’were yelling in middle of the street!

With his ears already hurting, Roman raised a hand, silencing them all to take stock, while the car that would take them to the city turned around the perimeter of the avenue to reach them.

- ... lemme understand. A woman kicked you after you smelled her? - he repeated, struggling to keep from laughing in his face.

It was damn ridiculous. Those things happened when you were a puppy, when you didn't know how to behave and took the step longer than necessary, certainly not when you were a grown ass alpha.

- Almost sniffed, she didn't give him time.

Roman turned to look at him again, this time laughing seriously. Wasn't he even able to do it?!

- I felt somethin! The smell of her was... wasn't the smell of a normal omega. Was different, she… she had something known, something I had already scented! - he raved angrily, seeing him laugh, but the more he went on the more ridiculous that story became.

- Y’know Takecia is inside, right?

- Yo man! I didn't smell her for that!

Roman ran a hand over his face, reaching the Wiseman who was waiting for him with the car door open and an enthusiastic smile for the evening that awaited them, while those three still insisted on messing up and inspired a deep breath of air, enjoying the peace - or whatever it was - of his family. They spent the rest of the time in town, in one of those restaurants that Heyman had reserved especially for them, eating steaks and drinking heartily, between the jokes of Jimmy trying in vain to get Solo in trouble and the wiseman ranting with all the female waiters for the glances they cast at their table. They stayed longer than expected, enjoying that well-deserved, thoughtless break as the city emptied and people returned to their homes. When they finally decided to leave, a cold breeze blew from the forest more than welcome on that month of the year. It was the perfect time for a run and his cousins didnt have him repeated twice, agreeing to go once they arrived at the reserve, taking opportunity to check the north borders.

He needed to stretch his paws, feel the earth beneath him, the scent of fallen leaves and the wind whispering in his ears. He wanted to exhaust himself and release his energy, tension accumulated in the previous weeks that did not seem to have left him. He had a strange agitation under his skin, something his wolf longed to vent, probably due to the fighting he had recently been engaged in and which now clashed with the tranquility and safety of what he called home. The adrenaline was difficult to dispose of and unexpectedly Roman found himself hearing it increase, when something filled his lungs from the lowered window of the car.

- Stop - he ordered abruptly, opening the car door before the wheels could even stop completely.

Both the Wiseman and his cousins called him worried, delaying in reaching him just long enough to give Roman time to plant himself in the middle of the empty road, head wandering from side to side trying to find the trail that had gripped his body in a vise.

- My Tribal Chief?

- Whatts up Uce?

Deaf to their questions, Roman moved as if in a trance, legs unable to stay still and his senses on alert. It had been an imperceptible moment, something that perhaps came from afar, he no longer felt it now and his muscles were tightening, the anger mounting.

Find it, find it, find it.

His ears were ringing, blood was pumping into his head like a roar, eyes wandering in search of anything, along the asphalt, beyond the empty ground on the other side of the road. There was a house somewhere and a church, maybe it had come from there, but his nose didn't feel anything and Roman ran both hands over his face, his wolf growling impatiently and annoyed.

It's not there, find it. Find it.

His body was in a state of agitation, a tension he had never felt before, not even facing an enemy, not even in the middle of a fight. His mind seemed to have turned off, he wasn't thinking and all he could hear at that moment was his blood flowing and the need to find that trace. He moved without a plan, hitting the road for the few meters the car had passed before he stopped it, his head in the air and the tension increasing. Someone touched him on the shoulder, perhaps to make him regain consciousness, Jimmy, but chased him away with a brusque gesture. His bones, Roman could feel them vibrating and his breath was catching in his throat, why couldn't he find it?

He left the road, charging towards the empty ground. That wasn't the direction, but he had to try, he had to. Maybe it was inside that house, maybe something had watered it down and that was the reason he couldn't smell it anymore. He was starting to see a trail on either side of his eyes, his tense shoulders rolling to release the pressure that threatened to collapse, and then he felt it again. His head snapped back, in direction of the wood from which the wind had come, there was Jey in front of him, but Roman didnt even see him as his bones creaked and his muscles stretched. He saw nothing.

Mate. Find her. Find her. Mine. Take her. Mine. Mine.

***

Sitting on the cottage porch, Y/N put away her toast. Her stomach was acting up, but she didn't want to eat and the wind was starting to bother her. She hugged her jacket with a shiver to make her bones vibrate, some of the guests on the estate were celebrating, she could hear the muffled noise of a badly played guitar, laughter and the smell of the bonfire... suddenly she raised her head, wide eyes wandering the empty garden along the path that led to the other cottages. What was that smell?

Smells good. Stay. Stay. Good.

There was no one, not yet, but she felt him. She was used to hearing them in advance, before they swooped in on her, she had trained for that, she knew what to do and so why wasn't she succeeding? Her legs seemed blocked, her muscles tense with apprehension, she was not afraid of him, her ears were ringing. She had to get out of there, she had to do it now, he was running straight to her. She stood up, going down step after step, her head was bursting, her blood pounding in her veins.

Stay. Stay. Good. Lower your head. Stay.

Her she-wolf was prey to a mixture of euphoria and anxiety, she was trying to hold her back and that was the last thing Y/N wanted at that moment. No way that thing was good…

On another occasion she would have tried to stand up to whoever was coming, she knew how to do it, she could do it, but she felt strange and she didn't like that feeling. It was new, it had never happened to her and she was struggling to keep what she had inside of her at bay. She took her hands off the porch and clenched her fists, eyes on the dark row of trees on the edge, she felt his paws on the ground. She will act the edge of the cottage, abandoning everything that belonged to her inside and ran down the driveway, the voice inside her head as she whimpered for the space she was trying to put between them. She had to get to that party, find other people, no matter who or what they were, she couldn't stay there or...

Cocoa butter, sweat, good. Mate. Home. Stay. Mate. Mate.

The growl that hit her, made her bones and earth vibrate under her feet, her belly tightened in a vise and Y/N closed her eyes for a second, stopping where she stood.

It couldn't be true, it had to be a mistake, she was wrong.

Her wolf had screamed mate and a bitter smile folded her lips, it was a damned nightmare. But she had no intention of playing the part of the girl who was butchered, not her, not when she was one step away from leaving. She slowly turned, trying to regain control of her body in turmoil and her eyes instantly stared at him, from the tips of his dark hairy ears to his giant paws embedded in the earth. He oozed alpha from every pore and Y/N looked inside his golden eyes.

- You better calm down big boy or I'll make a fur coat with you. That’s not the way.

An annoyed growl came out of his throat like a rumble, but Y/N remained unmoved nonetheless. He could make his big scary voice with someone else, she had no intention of giving it to him and he had to guess it, because as it came out of nowhere, he came on her, forcing her to squat. She dug her feet into the black fur under his thick neck and heard him whine for a moment, her inner wolf complaining about her, trying to make her stop, but she didn't want to stop, she couldn't. She wouldn't get caught, even at cost of being torn apart. She saw him shake his head in annoyance, his teeth clenching with an eerie noise around nothing, his ears twitching over his head as she tried again. The big guy was fast in spite of his size and Y/N slipped over once again, not caring about rolling around on the grass, she had to do it in that form or the big guy would have come up with weird ideas without even having invited her to a date. She barely managed to get on her knees and a shiver ran through her body, causing her to turn back in the direction of the woods. She saw her alleged mate plant himself in front of her like a wall, to protect her, trying to muffle whoever was coming and the rest for her was just a bad blow to the head and darkness.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanross @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @mcreignsera @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @jeyreigns @civildawn @minanajra @romanmydaddy @raidenandreigns @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @itjazzbicch @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @mariamheeeeee @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @helensanders92 @niknakbucks92 @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reignsxroman @kianaleani @daguenoire @iyoskyslover @extra-11 @josphinna @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x female reader #wwe fanfiction

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