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flowerandblood · 2 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (15)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, mention of sex, violence, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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For a long time after her uncle had left her chamber she could not recover; she sat on the table top exactly where he had left her, staring dully at the floor where the rolled up parchment lay, feeling his warm spend running down her buttocks. She thought about what was written inside, about what her stepfather really wanted.

I wish to speak alone with you and my daughter, nephew, tonight at the former Vhagar liege. You know the place. Come, if you dare.

She closed her eyes, swallowing loudly, calming herself slowly, feeling that her body was still trembling with terror. Never before in her life had she seen him in such a state, so distraught and broken, and she had no idea what she should do, what she could say to make him believe her – it seemed to her that although he had finally stopped crying, he didn't trust her.

She herself wasn't sure if meeting Daemon was a hope or a trap.

She finally slid off the table, settled on the floor and hissed quietly, clenching her eyelids, feeling the discomfort between her thighs after how brutal their approach had been immediately after their nuptials and now. She sighed quietly, moving slowly ahead and lay back on her bed, staring blankly at her door, recalling in her mind the conversation between her and his mother.

When she and Haleana walked into her chamber, she was already waiting for her.

Dressed as usual in emerald green, she stood up, her hands folded over her womb, the cuticles around her nails plucked and reddened. She looked at her with her big dark eyes, in her gaze pain, regret, remorse, but she wasn't sure what they were caused by.

"So it's true." She whispered in disbelief, looking at her cut lips, at her hand wrapped in a light cloth. She lifted her chin higher, not answering; Helaena stood behind her, silent.

"Gods, what have you done." She sighed, falling helplessly into the chair, covering her face with her hand, as if all that was happening was overwhelming her.

"There's no turning back now, then." She said at last, more to herself than to her, lowering her hand, looking ahead of her with empty, tired eyes. Seeing her bent, thoughtful figure, she lowered her gaze, unsure of what she should say.

After her guards poured the moon tea down her throat, she had nothing more to convey to her.

She was only her husband's mother to her, nothing more.

"He forced you to do this?" She asked at last, and she looked at her surprised, wrinkling her eyebrows and grunted loudly.

"No."

Silence fell again, longer this time. Alicent looked down at her knees, shaking a fleck of dust from her gown, sniffing quietly.

"When Viserys announced your betrothal, I was heartbroken. When Aemond agreed, I thought he did it so that his father would finally notice him. So that he would finally hear any kind word from him. Then Rhaenyra took you away and Aemond declared that he didn't want to see you. I thought it would be better that way. I was sure you had both moved on during those eight years." She said in a trembling voice and looked at her, shaking her head.

"I shouldn't have made you do this. I shouldn't have made you drink moon tea."

She sighed quietly, twisting to the other side, thinking about his mother telling her that he really didn't know anything about what she was going to do, that he was furious when he found out, yet that they had made a mistake by marrying each other that would cost them everything.

For some reason her words did not move her.

She was not afraid of Lord Baratheon's wrath or his daughter's disappointment when they finally found out what had happened.

The truth was that some part of her had been eagerly awaiting it.

Now, however, she couldn't think of anyone but her father, and although she knew it was Harwin Strong who had brought her into this world, Daemon was the one who had truly raised her.

She knew his unpredictable nature and was afraid of what he might do.

She became concerned when her uncle did not return for a long time, guessing that he was now discussing about the letter with his family. She was sure that his mother, grandfather and Criston Cole would be convincing him that it was a trap and suggesting that he let go of the idea that their marriage was in force – that she was a spy and if he backed out of it now, things could still be put right.

For some reason she felt that even if he had doubts about her loyalty, he would not disavow their marriage.

She shuddered when he finally stepped into her chamber – the sun was leaning lazily towards the horizon, if they were going to make it, they had to leave now. The door closed behind him and he stopped in the middle of the room, looking at her with a empty gaze, tired and pale.

"My brother has given his consent for us to negotiate with Daemon on his behalf."

She asked nothing more; her husband ordered them to bring their riding attire, which they changed into quickly. They left the keep in a hurry – she felt a hit of adrenaline and joy when she smelt the pleasant, fresh air around her.

For the first time in long days she was back outside, stepping on the soft grass, hearing the sound of the trees; she felt her uncle walking beside her glance at her once in a while, pondering for sure if she would try to escape. She stopped, surprised when he turned in a different direction than he should have, not understanding where he was going.

"We need to get Larax first." She said to him, turning her head towards Dragon's Pit, which she could see in the distance.

"No. You will fly with me on Vhagar." He replied coolly, without stopping; she looked at his silhouette in pain and moved after him with her heart beating fast, disappointed, for some reason naively believing that he would allow her to ride her own dragon.

However, her whole body was quivering in anticipation, for she had never seen Vhagar with her own eyes before.

She spotted her from afar; she seemed to her as big as a fortress, coiled, sleeping a sound sleep, her scales grey and brown, hot steam gushing from her nostrils once in a while, which dissolved into the air. She stood still for a moment, stunned, wanting to look at her from a distance; her uncle snorted at the sight, amused.

"Are you speechless?" He scoffed with some kind of pride and satisfaction, as if he had dreamed of this moment all his life; he, the second son, with no dragon and no heritage, could finally show her the great beast he had ridden in all its glory.

He furrowed his brow, surprised when she approached him; she tightened her hands on his leather coat, rose on her toes and kissed him, just as she had when they were children, merely pressing her lips against his. She pulled away from him with a quiet click of her saliva.

H looked at her with big eyes – it seemed to her that he had completely not expected this, still angry with her for what had happened.

She heard his shuddering sigh as she snuggled into him, embracing him at the waist, the setting sun and a pleasant warm breeze all around them; his hands cuddled her into himself, his forehead pressed against the top of her head.

"Am I flying towards my own doom?" He asked in a whisper, and she shook her head.

"No."

He sighed heavily, pale, frightened and uncertain, knowing that he was facing the destiny he feared, surely wishing he could now look deep into her heart and know her thoughts.

Whether betrayal lurked behind them.

He let her go, moving towards his dragoness, who raised her head sensing their scent – the ground trembled around them as she caught sight of her, rising restlessly on one of her paws, anxious.

"Lykiri, Vhagar. Ziry iksos ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha ānogar (Easy, Vhagar. It's my wife, my blood)." She heard his loud, deep, calm voice and felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that just a month ago, when she was just a bastard to him, these words would not have passed his lips.

Ñuha ānogar.

My blood.

She was more than his wife, and he was more than her husband.

She dared to come closer when he nodded at her, watching vigilantly the behaviour of the giant beast lying in front of her, its lizard-like, dark eyes watching her with curiosity.

She thought that her uncle had not allowed anyone but himself to approach her for years.

Her husband explained to her that she had to climb up the ropes to her back and sit in the big saddle, belaying her from below, a task that proved difficult and required great strength in her arms. He grasped her buttock several times with his hand when he saw that she was losing strength, and she wondered if he was watching over her safety and that she should not fall, or if he was simply taking satisfaction from it.

Both, she thought, sighing with relief as she finally got to the top and sat comfortably in the large leather saddle; her uncle sat behind her, breathing loudly. She felt him hesitate, his hand embracing her waist, the other gripping the ropes, his face melting into her soft cheek.

"Iksā ñuha vējes (You are my doom)." He whispered, clearly thinking she wouldn't understand; she, however, had spent hours with Daemon reading the same books he'd flicked through then, in the library, before he'd taken her for the first time.

"Hae iksā ñuhon (As you are mine)." She answered him quietly, felt him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his hand involuntarily tightening on her leather coat.

"You were mocking me. Then, when you told me to teach you." He said lowly, disappointed as if he were a small child who had been fooled.

She knew he was saying this because he wanted to put off as much as possible what was about to happen.

She sighed quietly at his words, tilting her head back, resting it on his shoulder, the pleasant, warm evening breeze enveloping her face.

"I imagined you sitting next to me when Daemon teached me. That we were children again. I was trying to get back what I had lost." She said finally, placing her hand on his, large and cold. She sighed as he pulled her tighter to him, his hand from her stomach rose to her neck, clamping around her – she felt his manhood throbb behind her, pressing against her buttocks.

"If you try to escape, if you betray me, I will kill you with my own hands." He hissed into her ear, but she felt no fear or discomfort, expecting those words for some reason.

His desperate attempt to threaten her, to stop her from whatever he was accusing her of in his head.

"I know."

Flying with him into the dark skies, feeling the wind in her hair again and that wonderful freedom, she felt some kind of relief. She pressed her body against the front of the saddle and he embraced her tightly from behind, his cold cheek pressed against hers, his hands holding the ropes embraced her waist.

They both shuddered as they caught a glimpse from below of the fortress they both remembered so well, and on a hill not far away the figure of a red, long-necked dragon – beside it a lone, white-haired figure was strolling along the edge of a cliff.

Her uncle commanded Vhagar to land; the ground around them shook from her weight as her great paws hit the ground, sand and dust rising high around them.

Her husband slid down the ropes first and she followed him, squealing loudly as he caught her before she fell to the ground, putting her safely on her feet.

"Don't try anything." He growled, checking her body quickly with his hands to make sure she didn't have a sharp tool hidden anywhere, which she allowed him to do without a word despite the fact that he had already done so before they even left the Red Keep. "Come."

She moved a few steps behind him towards her father, sighing loudly at the sight of him with emotion – she felt her whole body tremble, her lips parted in an involuntary smile.

She thought she would never see him again.

Her husband stopped, and she stood behind him. Daemon looked at her as he unsheathed his sword and dagger from his leather belt, laying it slowly on the ground. She heard her uncle swallow hard, distrustful, and after a moment he did the same, tense, letting the air out loudly as he straightened back up, looking at him expectantly.

"Speak, uncle." He ordered, however, Daemon wasn't looking at him but at her.

She realised he had noticed what was clearly visible on her lower lip.

"You married him." He said offhandedly, looking at her with a gaze that made her shudder, the one that always recognised when she was lying or trying to hide something from him. She nodded.

"He forced you?"

"That's enough. Did you summon me to mock me, uncle?"

"He forced you?"

"No." She heard her own trembling voice, looking at him pleadingly, unsure if he would understand why she had done this, or if he would see it as a betrayal.

Daemon looked to the side, pressing his lips together, and sighed heavily, as if he was very tired, a light breeze blowing his white hair partly tied back as he finally turned to her husband.

"So you know what duty is. What family is. And yet you support your brother who stole his sister's throne." He said coldly; she looked uncertainly at her uncle-husband, who clenched his eyelids and chuckled under his breath, as if something in his words amused him.

"Why should I support my sister, the same one who, when I lost my eye, wanted to interrogate me thoroughly because I told the truth out loud? Why should I support her children, who have no claim to the throne?" He hissed; he and Daemon looked at each other warily, fighting for glances, for dominance, for who would have the last word.

"You married a woman you think is worthless? Like her brothers?" He asked dryly, Aemond snorted loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She is my wife. Who her father was no longer matters, for she belongs now to my family, for our children will bear my name." He growled loudly, hitting his index finger against his chest, as if he could finally get out what he really felt.

She looked at him in disbelief, surprised that he wasn't holding back, that he wasn't limiting himself to conveying his brother's will, whatever it might be, but saying what he himself was thinking.

Daemon stared at him for a moment and snorted under his breath, shaking his head, looking at him again.

"What does your drunken brother-cunt have to convey to my wife as his justification? I lost my daughter because of him." He said coldly and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling cold sweat on her back, her husband gave her a quick, horrified look.

"What?" She muttered, looking at her father, then at him. She furrowed her brow, feeling that she was having trouble breathing, taking a step back. "You knew?"

"Calm down. You were suffering. I didn't want to add to your pain." Her uncle said quickly, looking at her pale, Daemon laughed out loud, burying his face in his hands.

"Look at you two. The future of the kingdom." He sneered, his nephew's lips tightening, throwing him a sharp, warning look.

"My brother has agreed to relinquish his rights to the crown, in favour of my and my wife's future heirs. He knows, exactly as you do, that both his rights in light of previous Lords' oaths, and your wife's in light of her being a woman, will always be challenged, and by extension the rights to the throne of their children and grandchildren. No one, however, will challenge the rights to the crown of my and my wife's offspring." He said in one exhale, trying to remain calm; she looked at him in disbelief, her heart pounding like mad.

Grief, hope, disappointment and relief mixed in her heart making her herself not know what she felt.

"My wife is to pass on her rights to the throne to a child that does not yet exist? What if a girl is born? What if you have no children?" He asked with disapproval and mockery, as if he had never heard a greater foolishness before.

"Then second to the throne will be your and my sister's children. Children from the rightful bed, pure Targaryen blood. If my wife and I do not beget a son."

"That is not enough. I want the head of your mother and your grandfather."

"Then I want Luke's head. I will gouge out his eyes with my own hands."

"Enough." She said, clutching her stomach, feeling everything around her start to spin – her husband taking a step towards her, frightened, seeing the look in her eyes, blank and furious.

"Enough, or I swear I'll throw myself right off this cliff." She mumbled, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head. She felt her uncle's hand embrace her neck, cuddling her into his chest, trying to calm her, Daemon watching them from afar.

"You will release my daughter as an act of goodwill. She will return with me to Dragonstone, and perhaps I will consider passing on your proposal to my wife. A daughter for a daughter." He said impassively; she felt her husband's hand clamp painfully tight on the nape of her neck, felt his heart pounding like mad under her cheek.

"Never."

Her father looked at her, certainty and impatience in his eyes.

"Tala (Daugther)." He said in an unobjectionable tone, wanting her to choose rightly, to choose her family, her kin.

"Don't you fucking dare." She heard him hiss, his free hand clenched helplessly in her hair, his forehead pressed against the top of her head, his breathing loud, shaky, terrified. "You promised me."

Part of her longed to stay with him, and part of her craved to be free, to go home, to see her mother, her brothers and sisters, to lie in her bed in her chamber.

However, Larax would stay in King's Landing, and with her her husband, who would never again trust her, who would never again look at her as he did then, the day he took her as his wife.

Kill me or marry me.

"Tell my mother that I will always be faithful to her, father." She said quietly, lifting her head, looking at her husband, his wide-open eye red with despair and horror; her hand rose to his cheek, her thumb stroked his clearly defined jaw. "Take me home, uncle."

She didn't appear to have time to finish her sentence, and his swollen, full lips pressed against hers in a passionate, greedy kiss – she felt tears of relief, grief, anger, joy and pain run down her cheeks as she reciprocated his caresses, his hands clenched tightly on her body.

"My sweet Rheanys." He whispered in a trembling voice into her mouth, placing a quick, hot, wet kiss on her forehead before turning towards her father, the satisfaction and confidence on his face from which her heart beat harder.

"She is mine."

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linberlyy · 1 month

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HBO recently released a new video with mini-interviews with actors on green/black team. And do you know what conclusion we made? Our greens actors are so afraid to express their opinions and views on the actions of the characters that they begin to laugh them off, albeit in short phrases, and explain what we already know.

Just take a look:

Tom: “Why should Team Green be on the throne and not Team Black? My name is on the lease for the castle." (We know, Tom, how much you get hated, and we understand that this is all you can say in principle at such events).

Fabien: “I think it's more a loyalty thing for Cole. I think it's his loyalty to Alicent. He wants what she wants. I myself… no comments.” (I was already shy at the end, you are our sunshine).

Ewan: “Aemond, he was bullied and wronged as a kid. They carved his eye out. He bounced back. He put a sapphire gemstone in his eye. And yeah, they're gonna get what's coming to them.” (Here Ewan revealed what we've already...sort of...seen? Why do we need a summary of the events of the first season? Even the last encrypted phrase sounded without the connotation we needed, so that, obviously, God forbid, we put him against mailwife Daemon, against whom he is nothing).

Olivia: "We have bigger dragons." (Poor Olivia, she was hated, it seems, more than anyone else. She looks thinner and tighter. I really hope that we are wrong. They didn’t even say the words in using their party, just so as not to cause a storm of negativity, how dare this ungrateful person go against Rhaenyra!)

While the actors of the opposite side can afford to make too eloquent and provocative statements, it is clear that most of the normies will support them and begin to squeal with delight:

Steve: “Team Black should be on the throne instead of Team Green. Team Green are usurpers. Team Black are the rightful heirs. They were named by the King. They're just better looking, generally.” (Even green actors cannot afford to call their characters “legitimate” and make any comments in favor of the opposite side, but here there is just basic cringe. Everything we like).

Eve: “They're the best. And the annoying people are pretty obviously the Greens. They're all just a bunch of knobs, and they need their heads being knocked together." (No comments, right? Everything is clear here).

Harry: “Team Black are decent people. We are more of a functioning family. We do things the right way." (The funny thing is that the whole Dance is the struggle of ONE family. The fact that EVEN the actors divide both groups into TWO different families already says something, and we do not take this into account, as it is about the same persons in the scripts).

Phoebe: “I think we love each other way more. I think we have a family base that is incredible. (Yes, let's also compare who loves whom more).

Bethany: “Team Black are the most fun. We get on the most. They all hate each other. „You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on the throne“. (In the video, after the actress’s words, they accidentally removed Alicent and Aegon from the trailer, obviously, there was a visible emphasis on the fact that there is no love in the green family, and in general they watched without exception, but with their black maniacs, everything is cool with them).

Matt: “My uncle is a challenge I welcome. If he dares face me." No chance. I'm coming for his head. I'm gonna put it on a spike. Me and Rhaenyra, there's a bloodline to us, isn't there? We're the thoroughbreds." (Compare Ewan's lines with his. There is a big difference. Matt has the ability to say things like this to please the surviving fans, while Ewan does not, because all he gets in response is judgment, hate speech and swearing. And the phrase “We're the thoroughbreds” each time comes closer and closer to the name of H*tler with his “pure Aryan blood”, don’t blame me).

Emma: "We have madness on our side. And we have a powerful naval presence. Thanks to the Velaryon fleet." (Ok, do we need to remind you in what right and wrong ways the characters got it? Do the Velaryons themselves even know what the key is? However, Emma’s words carry disgust, like the words of her fellow actors, so she’s just a bun. Thanks for that too).

Does anyone have any other suggestions as to which side we present to get our ass kissed? The answer is obvious.

#hotd #anti team black #houseofthedragon #pro team green #team green #the greens #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #criston cole #olivia cooke #ewan mitchell #fabien frankel #tom glynn carney

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queenvhagar · 2 months

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It's interesting that Rhaenyra is consistently framed as being "not like other girls" in such an extreme attempt at feminism that it veers way over to other side in that all the other girls in the story, especially those who act differently than she would or who act in opposition to her wishes, are somehow not as good as her or even evil.

As the show loves to show us, Rhaenyra's not like other girls. She loves being a bit of a rebel. She defies the rules of the world and doesn't care what anyone's opinion of her is. She embraces her sexuality. She's bold and says what's on her mind. Now, these are fine things for her as a character, for sure. The problem comes when looking at how the other girls are depicted and how the show expects you to feel about them vs Rhaenyra.

Alicent accepts her position in life as the daughter of a second son and marries for her family against her wishes. But it goes against what Rhaenyra wants, so she's evil. She should have just been more like Rhaenyra! Defied her father, said no to Viserys, went against the patriarchy... except Alicent does not have the privilege that Rhaenyra has as a dragon riding Targaryen princess, the king's beloved daughter and heir to the throne. What power did she have to resist the wishes of her lord father and the king? She acted like any girl of her time would, given the circumstances of her powerlessness, and yet somehow the show wants you to believe that's a character flaw.

Laena is second to Rhaenyra, something the show made painfully obvious when depicting her marriage with Daemon (which sucks especially because there was no indication that this was the case in the books; rather, her and Daemon were happily married and both were extremely close to Rhaenyra the entire time). Her death is changed from its original and unique tragedy to prop up Rhaenyra's eventual fate and its "epic" quality, so when it eventually happens we can view it as a true "dragonrider's death." Then, on the night of her funeral, her husbands finally gets with his first choice Rhaenyra. Laena who? She is made to look less in comparison to Rhaenyra.

Baela and Rhaena, despite having huge roles in the Dance and the aftermath, are largely sidelined by the writers. Baela's a fierce dragonrider like her mother... yet the only scene allowing her to show any aspect of that is left on the cutting room floor. Rhaena wants a dragon and is the only one of her family who isn't a dragonrider... yet the writers have yet to give her any personality beyond that or explore this aspect of her character with any depth. The twins' adult versions barely have any screen time or lines. Even when they are betrothed, seemingly without their prior knowledge, they can only smile by the side.

Helaena is a dragonrider, a dragon dreamer, a mother, a daughter. Forced to use her Targaryen royal womb to make heirs. But the writers aren't interested in exploring any aspect of her character in depth or showing her relationships with her family.

One woman is the exception, as she does share some qualities with Rhaenyra in that she's also not like other girls and the audience should root for her too... it's Rhaenys! She's got a dragon! She'll put it in the Greens' faces (never mind hundreds of innocents killed - so cool!). She'll call someone out for toiling their life in the service of men (even though she's done no differently with her own life!). And because girls support girls no matter what, of course she's Team Black all the way (even though her daughter died a continent away because of Daemon and her son was clearly killed because of Rhaenyra). Rhaenys will hitch onto the Black train despite everything that's happened, and in supporting Rhaenyra she'll take away Baela's claim to Driftmark and instead link both her granddaughters to the people who are the reason both of her children are dead...

#hotd critical #hotd analysis #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black

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daenerysies · 3 months

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“He’s always angry, but we haven’t done anything.”

“…but I have a crooked finger, just like Mama!”

“We were born here. Mama is our mother.”

“I do not wish to be different.” “Nor do I.”

“So let us be good sons and please those who love us, so they may forget what we lack.”

I’m never going to recover from this. Once again scenes were removed that would add to both boys characterizations, and we all know why. The scenes would make the audience realize how Aemond’s ‘I’m being bullied for not having a dragon :( I’m the real victim!’ storyline so fallible and easy to shatter in universe because it’s a completely normal occurrence for Targaryen’s. Aemond is not the first child to not have a dragon by the age of ten, the original conqueror’s, Baelon, Alyssa, Rhaenys, Laena, Viserys, Daemon, Aegon II, Helaena, etc. all claimed young or fully grown dragons somewhere between the ages of 11-18.

The only character that had the potential to be marketed as his biggest bully is his brother. They’re never going to convince me (and many others) that it was Rhaenyra’s sons who would ever go after another child for their lack of a dragon, especially given that they were almost surely taught that hatching a cradle egg is but one way for a Targaryen to have a dragon. Aemond felt lesser than his nephews due to the way Alicent was parenting him. She led him to believe that his nephews were bastards, that due to their blood they were beneath him, and this is what led to his inferiority complex. It makes more sense than the crock of shit the show runners decided to include in the show.

Rhaenyra and her sons were subjected to actual abuse and bigotry over the timeskip due to their gender and their blood, respectively. It very much makes me sick how they’re being treated by not only the show runners, but a decent portion of the audience as well. Bastardphobia is not cool or edgy. Looking down on someone because their parents weren’t married is vile. It falls into the same category as believing in blood supremacy. It’s 2024. Do better.

Jace and Luke will forever be Mama’s boys and are never beating the best brothers/sons allegations.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Push the Sky Away - Part One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Angst. Canon typical violence. Mention of loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~6.5k

Summary: We are getting to know Aemond in this chapter. Some scene setting and world building, not much to be found of our OC until she is introduced towards the end. Laying the groundwork for what's to come later. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @sapphirehearteyes. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Fire and Blood, the infamous words of House Targaryen. It is a phrase that both haunts and eludes Aemond Targaryen from an early age, with its promise of greatness and constant reminder of all he will never be.

The Targaryen name is the only thing of any value that Viserys has ever bestowed upon his sons. Aemond ponders whether his father’s disinterest in him is a result of the illness that weakens his body by the day, or if he simply has no room in his heart for the children borne of his second marriage. When he watches him interact with Rhaenyra, how he lights up in her presence in a way that he does not for him or his other siblings, he knows it is the latter.

The fireplace warms his skin, uncomfortably so, and despite the septa’s caution that he not sit so close, he refuses to budge. Sweat prickles the back of his neck, dampening and curling the ends of the hair that sticks to it. His discomfort is of little importance to him, he needs to remain within this proximity to the hearth in order to keep his egg warm, to ensure it hatches. It is a vigil he has kept for as long as he can remember, not moving until he is forced to bed with aching joints and soot covered hands. Unable to understand why it had never hatched in his cradle, he is certain that if he does his due diligence then soon he will have a dragon of his own.

His mother is alerted of his disobedience, and Alicent regards him with sadness in her large brown eyes, as she reaches for him.

“Come away, my dearest love, you will have a dragon of your own one day.”

He simply shakes his head. She could not understand. He does not want just any dragon, he wants his. There must be a reason why this particular egg was imparted upon him, otherwise it is all for nothing.

Despite this, day after day the hardened scales remain cool to the touch, little more than a rock between his tiny fingers. Perhaps placing it within the flames themselves will yield the result he hopes for?

He leans forward into the fireplace, heat blazing against his pale cheeks, and an acrid stench fills his nostrils. It is not until he is pulled forcefully back by the firm grasp of the septa that he realises the ends of his long, fair hair have singed, charred and blackened by the heat of the fire.

The egg is taken away after that, and Aemond weeps bitterly at the unfairness of it. It is his birthright, his only birthright, and now his sole purpose for being has been snatched from him; it seems there is little point to his existence now. He never sees the egg again, but he often wonders what would have happened if he had been left uninterrupted to place it upon the flames.

When Aemond is a little older, he begins to frequent the Dragonpit, for what is a Targaryen without their dragon? If he no longer has his own egg then he will find another, or perhaps claim a riderless mount of his own.

The warmth beneath the Grand Sept is different from that of the fireplace. It is dank and humid within the pit, the odour of droppings hangs heavy in the air, mixed with sulphur and ash. The smell sticks to his clothes when he returns to the Keep each evening, and momentarily he feels his chest swell with pride as his mother winkles her nose in disgust at the scent. It is the same look of distaste that she bestows upon both Helaena and Aegon when they return from flying, and for the briefest of moments he can pretend that he has too.

Yet still he goes to bed each evening dragonless, and begins each day anew with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth as he watches his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, interact with their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Targaryens are considered to be closer to gods than men, so it feels like a cruel twist of fate that his half sister’s bastard offspring should be blessed with eggs that hatched in their cradles when his did not. Rhaenyra’s children have the favour of the Seven, whereas they seem to have turned a blind eye to him.

Aemond’s heart soars with hope when the dragonkeepers reveal to his sister that Dreamfyre is gravid. If she produces a healthy clutch of eggs then he can claim one, one that will actually hatch. In spite of the warnings that the she-dragon be left in peace during this sensitive time, and Helaena’s frustrated and repeated requests to stop disturbing her, he cannot resist the pull towards where she roosts within her darkened cave. If she is to lay an egg, then he wants to be the first to see it, to ensure he can take one for himself.

The blistering heat of the flames that Dreamfyre expels with her mighty roar of anger as he approaches yet again causes him to stagger backwards, wide eyed and slack jawed. But Aemond feels no fear as gazes into her fiery maw, his only thoughts are that one day soon a beast of his own will do much the same.

When Aegon claps a heavy hand upon his shoulder, steering him forward, and claiming a dragon has been found for him, he does his best to remain calm. He is used to his brother and nephews’ cruel japes at his expense. But as he stands at the top of the slope to the Dragonpit, he cannot help the way his heart races with excitement at the possibility that it might be true.

His hopes are dashed when a pig is led out to him, trussed up in wings, having been jokingly named “the pink dread”. He bows his head at the raucous laughter of Aegon, Jace and Luke around him, humiliation flushing his cheeks for having dared to believe it could be true.

The echoes of Aegon’s mocking pig grunts ring in his ears all the way home, and he stands dejectedly as Alicent delivers yet another scolding for him having dared to disturb Dreamfyre. He is usually silently accepting of her scorn, confident he knows better, and prepared to defy her all over again the next day. However, this time he can no longer bear the injustice of it all.

“They gave me a pig!” He cries, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. “They laughed, they all laughed.”

The warmth of his mother’s embrace does little to comfort the inferno that blazes inside of him. Today is proof of the fact that his own brother does not view him as equal - how could he? Aemond is a second born son and has no dragon. He is worth nothing.

If he is not destined to be a dragonrider, then Aemond decides he will give his all to becoming a fearsome warrior instead. He excels in the training yard with each daily practice, every strike of his wooden sword against the straw stuffed target more ferocious than the last. The proud glint in the eye of Ser Criston Cole as he watches diligently, offering guidance on both stance and technique, serves to spur him on. He will be the best at this, he has to be.

Much to his displeasure, the allotted time for sparring is shared with his nephews. Though they learn under the watchful eye of Ser Harwin Strong, there is still a competitive element, and an underlying sense of animosity between Criston and Harwin that he does not quite understand.

Aegon later tells him it is because Ser Harwin is the true father of Rhaenyra’s children. He feels a smug sense of satisfaction at being privy to this information, and it brings him and his older brother closer together. The two of them share rare moments of comradery each time they don their armour and pick up their practice blades. It’s the only time that Aemond ever genuinely laughs or smiles.

There is an obvious divide from that point onwards, Targaryens uniting against Strongs, and as the tension grows between the boys, it does between their mentors too, until one day it reaches a boiling point.

At first Aemond titters along with his brother as they watch Criston scuffle with Harwin, but his smile quickly fades upon seeing how valiantly their father fights for them, knowing his own would never do the same for him. As he looks up into the solemn features of Aegon, he knows the sentiment is shared. It is yet another privilege that Rhaenyra’s children possess that he does not have; the love of their father.

They journey to Driftmark when they receive the news that Laena Velaryon has passed away in childbirth. The icy, coastal winds that whip Aemond’s hair around his face as the stone coffin is committed to the sea are as bleak as the mood that envelopes them all. He seeks warmth near the brazier, attempting to catch the eye of Jace, who stands on the opposite side. Despite the tension between them, he hopes to offer condolences, knowing the loss of both Ser Harwin and his aunt play heavily upon his nephew’s mind.

He realises it is a futile gesture the moment that Jace turns away in disgust, and once more Aemond is reminded of how alone he truly is, that he has nothing. Luke will inherit Driftmark, and their mother has betrothed Helaena to Aegon. Luke snivels at what he is offered, claiming that when Driftmark passes to him it means everyone will have died. Aegon scoffs at the notion of being married to Helaena, claiming they have nothing in common.

It angers Aemond, to be overlooked in favour of those who are so ungrateful for all they have. If he were set to inherit anything, he would do everything in his power to prove he is worthy of it and bear the title with honour. If his mother had betrothed his sister to him, he would do his duty and ensure the match produces heirs that would make House Targaryen proud.

His attention is drawn to the clifftop when he sees the spread of enormous wings and hears the mighty rumble of the creature atop it. Vhagar. Laena Velaryon’s dragon is now riderless, and the pull he feels towards her is one he simply cannot ignore. At last, he has found his purpose and his desire to claim a dragon is reinvigorated with new strength.

Aemond waits until nightfall. Sea spray has made the rocks slippery beneath his feet, and he ascends carefully, though determined, towards the top of the cliff where Vhagar roosts. Windswept and breathless by the time he reaches the top, he stands awestruck at the sleeping dragon. Even partially submerged in sand, she is a magnificent sight to behold. She had appeared massive when looking at her from above, but it does nothing to prepare him for the sheer scale of her up close. She is gargantuan.

For a moment, icy fingers of fear grip Aemond’s heart, and he considers simply turning back, he has made a dangerous mistake. He shakes the thought from his mind the moment it presents itself.

I am no craven.

His approach is tentative, palms outstretched to communicate that he does not present a threat, as the elderly beast grumbles and shakes sand from her back. He stares transfixed as she opens her jaws, the white hot inferno that swirls within their depths makes that of Dreamfyre’s seem like a mere campfire. He feels as though he is looking into the very mouth of the Seven Hells themselves, but instead of fear Aemond feels kinship. Vhagar is without purpose, as is he, until now.

“Lykirī,” he calls out, the wind carrying half the sound away with it. Yet she hears, and she stills, eyeing the child before her with keen curiosity. Be calm.

Emboldened by her calmness at his command, Aemond steps closer, fingertips ghosting against the heat that radiates from her scales.

“Dohaerās, Vhagar,” he tells her, voice trembling. This is the same dragon ridden by the great warrior, Visenya, the conqueror’s wife. She is battle hardened, and with the smallest of movements could snuff out his short life. Serve.

The faintest sound of displeasure reverberates through Vhagar’s body, yet she remains still. Aemond’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he grips the ropes attached to her saddle and begins to pull himself up. If he had thought the climb to the top of the cliff difficult, it proves nothing compared to this. His arms ache with exertion, the expanse of the great beast he is attempting to summit is vaster than anything he has ever climbed before.

By the time he pulls himself into the saddle, Aemond’s palms are red raw with rope burn and his skin is damp with perspiration. There is barely time for him to catch his breath though, as the moment Vhagar feels him settle on her back, she rises to her feet, vast quantities of sand slipping from her back and wings in drifts.

The movement startles Aemond, and he fears he will fall. His sore hands cling tightly to her reins as he shouts his final command to her.

“Sōvēs.” Fly.

As she rises into the air with an effortless flap of her wings, he feels as though he has left his stomach on the ground below. The rush upwards is dizzying, frightening and exhilarating all at once. Aemond begins to laugh as he grows used to the weightless sensation of every ebb and flow through the air as it whistles past his ears, and chills his skin to the bone. He is finally complete, he has his dragon, and for the first time in his life he is genuinely happy.

That happiness is short-lived.

The moment he reaches solid ground, his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, are waiting for him, alongside Jace and Luke. He had anticipated this, and is well prepared.

“It’s him!” Rhaena shouts as soon as she sees him.

“It’s me,” he responds calmly, confident there is nothing to be done now that Vhagar is his.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride? It would suit you.”

He is startled when Rhaena angrily charges towards him, though he is bigger than her and pushes her to the ground with ease. A punch from her sister, Baela, catches him off guard, the pain in his face enraging him and causing him to hit back so hard she falls over.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He snarls angrily.

Jace and Luke rush at him, and in a moment of confidence Aemond thinks he has bested the both of them, until all four children knock him down and begin to rain their fists down upon him.

He is the rider of the world’s largest dragon, and his new found confidence coupled with the surge of adrenaline allows him to fight them all back. He grasps a rock, holding it above Luke’s head as he grasps him tightly by the collar.

“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did. Bastards!” He hisses.

“My father is still alive!” Luke wails.

Aemond smirks, rock still held above his sobbing nephew, and he glances to Jace. “He does not know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Jace unsheathes a dagger, to the protestations of both Rhaena and Baela, and the distraction is enough for Aemond to knock it from his hand. His dedication in the training yard has paid off and he quickly gets the better of Jace, snatching up the rock once more, prepared to bring it down upon his skull should he try to attack him again.

In Aemond’s mind, the matter is settled, they should accept what has happened and retire to bed.

Unfortunately, his nephews do not share the sentiment. He winces, staggering backwards as Jace throws sand in his face, and before he has had time to fully recover, Luke is racing towards him, Jace’s dagger in hand.

The pain is excruciating as his nephew slashes upwards, and suddenly his vision shows blackness on one side, instead of his surroundings. He falls to his knees, a shriek of agony leaving him as blood seeps through the fingers of the hand he clasps to one side of his face.

His only focus is the searing, torturous pain he feels, waves of nausea rippling through his prone body, until a clamour of armour alerts him to the presence of the Kingsguard. As a knight kneels beside him, coaxing his hand away, his pale, horrified expression and exclamation of “Gods be good” are all Aemond needs to know that his face is ruined forever.

The fire in the hall of Driftmark is warm against his skin, and he does his best to focus on that sensation instead of that of the Maester extracting his eye from his skull. Though he has been dosed with milk of the poppy, he still feels every cut, every tug, and the pierce of the needle as it’s pulled through his skin repeatedly to stitch up the wound.

Aemond is unsure if it is the milk of the poppy that dulls his senses, or the satisfaction he feels at having claimed the world’s largest dragon, but he does not feel anger or sadness as he expects he would have when he is told his eye is lost forever.

When his mother snatches a knife and charges towards Rhaenyra, he is certain she has more blood of the dragon coursing through her veins than his coward of a father does. She is willing to risk everything to avenge his disfigurement, while Viserys makes excuses and appears more affronted at his eldest daughter’s children being called bastards. The loss of Aemond’s eye seems of little importance to him.

It is in that moment that Aemond feels the tiny semblance of respect he had for his father wither and die. As he takes in the harrowed expressions of Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, he knows they are all he has left.

“Do not mourn me, mother,” he says softly, rising to comfort her, though unsteady on his feet as he adjusts to his partial sightedness. “I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon.”

A scar mars the flesh of Aemond’s face, but also ravages its way through the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra and her children leave King’s Landing, settling upon Dragonstone with Daemon and his daughters. Meanwhile, the health of Viserys continues to decline and the instances he is not bedridden grow fewer. Aemond does not miss his presence.

Worry hangs over his mother, a permanent shroud of anxiety, while Aegon becomes more debaucherous, sinking further into his cups with each passing day. Helaena retreats deeper into herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, and bristles at any initiation of physical touch.

Slowly, Aemond heals, though it is not without struggle. He must learn to do everything anew. His favourite books become a chore to read, no longer able to pore over their pages for as long without suffering a terrible ache in his head.

Criston has to begin his training with the sword all over again. There is a newfound blind spot to account for when he fights. Not only does he have to learn how to balance, pivot and wield his weapon with accuracy, he also has to develop hyper vigilance and an acute awareness of where his opponent is at all times, to prevent them from drifting to the side from which he cannot see, and besting him.

Even flying on dragonback is difficult, though he only has one flight to compare it to. He learns fast, and is grateful that Vhagar’s advanced age makes her placid and more forgiving than a younger mount might be. When Aemond is airborne he can almost forget his disfigurement entirely, until he returns to the ground and the world is half blackness once more.

It is enough to make Aemond want to scream in frustration and give up at times. However, he is accustomed to a life of feeling out of place, of having to work harder than everyone else to prove his worth. There is nothing to be gained from a defeatist attitude, so he hardens himself to the challenges he faces, determined to be better with one eye than he was with two.

If his vision of the world is now limited, then he will simply expand his mind beyond that. He loses himself in tomes of history and philosophy, ignoring the dull pain that plagues his skull as he reads into the small hours.

In the training yard, he is quick to learn to keep Criston within his line of sight at all times, and wields his sword viciously, relentlessly, always striving to be faster, stronger, more precise. The proud look upon the Knight’s face means little to him now. The only person he means to prove anything to is himself.

He reasons that a warrior must appear as fearsome as they fight, and takes to wearing a sapphire in the empty socket of his eye, when it is not covered by a patch.

The single matter that Aemond is never able to quite grasp is that of the fairer sex. Aegon has always seemed to have an overly indulgent interest in women, moreso what lies between their legs, but he has never understood his brother’s obsession with fornication. He has read about the mechanics of it in books, and the idea makes his lip curl in disgust. However, he reasons that Aegon is older, and perhaps his own appetite will develop in much the same way as he ages.

Aegon reasons that women’s skin is soft, they smell nice, and when you find one that has the perfect pair of tits and legs then there is little else that matters. While it is agreeable to Aemond that women are indeed more pleasant to look upon than men, he questions why he should not take an interest in their education or how they like to pass the time. His brother argues that once you are sheathed inside a woman, it is not what is in their mind that matters in the slightest.

Upon Aemond’s thirteenth name day, Aegon slaps him on the back and informs him that it is “time to get it wet”. The very idea makes his guts churn with unease, yet he dons the clothes of common folk just the same, pulling a hood over his head, and allows his brother to guide him to the Street of Silk.

The walk through Flea Bottom reeks of urine, with men staggering half drunk through the narrow cobbled streets, while women in varying states of undress beckon them forward into darkened hovels. Aemond keeps his head bowed, dreading what is to come, and is thankful when the establishment that his older brother guides him to looks slightly more respectable than the half a dozen they have passed by already.

The pleasure house is dimly lit and the heady scent of cheap perfume burns his nostrils, though it barely covers the smell of another undesirable stench that he assumes is the byproduct of what goes on here. He half wonders if it will stick to his clothing, much like the smell of sulphur and ash does when he returns from dragonback. He sincerely hopes not.

His throat runs dry when Aegon staggers away with a busty woman, full of giggles, leaving him alone. The brothel’s madame has a kind smile, though it does not meet her eyes, and when she places her hand upon his shoulder it makes him shudder. He feels her touch there like a brand long after she has taken it away.

“Choose any of my girls that you like,” she tells him.

Timidly he eyes all of them. He wants none of them, but how can he say that?

When he hesitates, she chooses for him, pushing him towards a room with a girl that cannot be much older than he is. Her hair is the colour of straw, her skin reeks of the same perfume that lingers thick within the air, and there is wine upon her breath.

The fireplace burns low in the room as he lays upon the bed, and he keeps his eye fixed upon it until it is over. He has enjoyed none of it, the finish feeling little more to him than the satisfaction he experiences when scratching an itch. He cannot understand why Aegon makes such a fuss about it, if that is all there is to it then he never wants to partake in such an act of vulgarity ever again.

He leaves without saying a word, and walks as quickly as his legs will carry him back to the Red Keep. In the bathtub that evening, he scrubs until his skin is red raw, wanting nothing more than to erase every trace of what he has endured that day.

When he is served his favourite meal for his name day feast, roasted haunch of venison, he finds he has no appetite. Sickly perfume fills his nose and turns his stomach, and he leaves his plate untouched.

From that day forth, Aemond decides that he has no taste for depravity, and dedicates his time to reading, training with the sword and taking flight on Vhagar. Despite the nagging ache at the back of his mind that Aegon is set to succeed their father when he passes away, despite neither wanting nor deserving it, he feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he is making both their mother and House Targaryen proud.

There are few books in the Keep’s library he has not read at least twice, and he trains daily in the yard with Criston, now at a point where he is the victor in almost every sparring match.

The years pass, and Aemond is content with solitude, assuming that is his lot in life. Fire and blood course hotly in his veins, and in spite of his disfigurement he feels every inch a true Targaryen.

Viserys deteriorates to the point that Aemond’s grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto, now oversees most of the royal duties, and he has begun in earnest to plan with Alicent for Aegon’s eventual coronation. It comes as no shock to Aemond the day that he is beckoned to the Small Council Chamber, though he is surprised to find it is just his grandsire that sits at the table, there is not even a cup bearer present.

“I trust you are aware of the plans to crown Aegon once your father passes?” Otto asks, once Aemond is seated in the chair nearest to him.

Aemond sits up straight against the backrest, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, as he regards Otto impassively. “I am.”

“Good,” Otto nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Then I am sure you must know of your own duty to the realm.”

Aemond purses his lips, eyeing the older man carefully. “I will do what I must to ensure Aegon’s claim to the throne goes unchallenged.”

Otto sighs, leaning back and regarding Aemond with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Rhaenyra is sure to challenge your brother’s birthright, as your father foolishly named her heir, but there are means to remedy that.”

Aemond says nothing, waiting for Otto to say what he means. He watches as he fills both their wine cups, before setting the jug down. He takes a deep drink from his own, but Aemond leaves his untouched, wishing his grandsire would just get to the point.

Otto clicks his tongue before continuing. “To strengthen Aegon’s claim, we must curry favour with the other Great Houses of the realm.”

Aemond lowers his gaze, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the armrests of his chair. “You wish for me to marry.”

“Yes, Aemond, you are to be betrothed.”

The tone of voice in which Otto says this has such finality, it sounds as though a match has already been decided. His eye flickers upwards to meet the unyielding gaze of his grandsire.

“To who?”

“Your mother and I thought it best not to present you with suitors, we know you would not enjoy such a spectacle.”

You know all of them would take one look at me and be horrified by the very notion of being married to me.

Otto continues, “So we have chosen for you. The daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, Lorra. She is a pretty girl, and having the allegiance of a Great House of the North will weaken Rhaenyra’s claim.”

Aemond stays silent as his mind races.

House Stark. Their sigil is a dire wolf, their words are Winter is Coming.

Beyond that, he knows nothing of Northerners, what could he possibly learn about his betrothed from a book anyway?

He wets his lips, resigned to his fate. “When?”

“She will arrive in King’s Landing in two weeks, so that you can begin your courtship of her.”

“I will do my duty.”

“I trust that you will.”

Aemond retires to his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had anticipated that he would have to marry to form a political alliance at some point, however, the thought rattles him all the same.

He is a solitary creature by nature, what on earth will he do with a wife? He supposes life will stay much the same, if his mother and father and Aegon and Helaena are to be used as examples - both couples married, yet living entirely separate lives. It is a mere formality. He will not be expected to spend time with her.

They will be expected to produce heirs, however. Nervousness swirls in his gut at the thought. He does not want to endure what happened to him at the brothel each time he couples with his wife, yet he cannot leave her childless either.

Lorra is a highborn lady, however, not a common whore, so perhaps he will be able to find pleasure in the act. Doubt niggles in his mind as he ponders his inexperience. A Prince must know what he is doing if he is to produce children, and Aemond possesses neither experience nor interest in the act of procreation. He will need to prepare if he is to perform his marital duties as anticipated without embarrassing himself or his wife.

The thought of returning to Flea Bottom makes him shiver in revulsion. He has no desire to part with coin for an act that sickens him. He will need to find an alternative.

There are plenty of maidservants around the Keep who are pretty enough, and of a similar age to him. He does not wish to be like his brother, however, and will not take what is not freely given. He has observed the way that Aegon expresses interest in the women that attend to them during mealtimes and decides to deploy some of the same tactics, though in a much more subtle manner.

At supper the following evening, he spots a young woman who is pleasing to him. She has a slender neck and pretty face, her large eyes framed by thick lashes. He watches her carefully as she rounds the table, filling each cup with wine, and when finally she approaches him, he deliberately reaches forward, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her wrist as she pours from the jug she holds. She glances down at him and he looks up, holding her gaze, the faintest of smirks on his face. A slight blush creeps up her neck, dusting its way across her cheekbones and he knows she is interested.

He spends the rest of the meal catching her eye whenever he can, and when the evening draws to a close, he lingers in the doorway, beckoning her with the slightest tip of his head when she looks at him, before walking back to his bedchamber. Aemond does not have to wait long for the knock at his door.

“Your grace, will you be needing anything else this evening?” She asks with a polite smile.

He closes the door behind them, steeling himself before turning to face her. “You understand why you are here?”

She nods, reaching up to cup his face as she leans in. He turns away, pulling back slightly.

“I have no need for you to kiss me.”

She nods in understanding and moves towards the bed, slipping out of her clothes. Aemond stands in silence as he watches her disrobe. She is attractive to look at, much more desirable than the girl he had coupled with in Flea Bottom. Smooth skinned, with subtle curves and firm breasts. He wonders how many others have looked upon her in the same manner that he has.

“Lay down,” he instructs her, once she is fully bare before him.

She moves to position herself face down, but Aemond steps forward, halting her actions.

“Let me look at you.”

“As you wish, your grace,” she whispers, blushing again, and repositions onto her back.

Aemond stands over her, his eye raking over her form as he takes in the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the narrowness of her waist expands outwards towards her hips.

Tentatively, he reaches forward, fingers trailing lightly over the plush flesh of her inner thigh, tugging gently.

Obediently, she spreads her legs and he sucks in a breath at what glistens between them, curiosity guiding his actions as he spreads his fingers through the slick folds. She sighs in pleasure, and he looks back up at her face. Her lips are parted, eyes hooded with desire. Admittedly, though this is a much better experience than what he’d endured when he was thirteen, he still feels little in the way of excitement. Aemond appreciates that she lays there quietly, however, allowing him to take things at his own pace, and he feels his body respond to her regardless of his lack of emotion.

When his cock strains almost painfully against the lacings of his breeches, he unfastens them, crawling over the maidservant to cage her body in with his. She feels better against him than the whore had, her skin is more supple and her scent not quite so overpowering. He grunts as he pushes himself inside of her, her tight, wet heat gripping every inch of him as he slides forward.

The inside of her is different from the grasp of his own hand. Aemond is no stranger to the act of self pleasure, using it as a means to clear his mind or lull himself to sleep on nights when rest evades him. It is not a carnal act for him though, he simply focuses on the sensation, guiding himself to release. Despite the pleasant warmth of her body, he does not feel driven to desperate passion as he had anticipated, as he has so often heard Aegon describe.

As he rocks his hips into hers, back and forth, the growing ache he experiences is nice enough, but it does not light a fire within him. He is simply rutting against another person. The dulcet sounds that fall from her lips as he pistons into her sound too performative, and he feels resentment as he looks upon her face, just wanting to put an end to it.

He speeds up, and her sounds grow louder. Annoyance prickles at his skin.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

She falls silent and the room fills with the sound of the slap of his skin against hers, until finally he spills inside of her with a quiet gasp. He is quick to withdraw from her, standing and tucking himself away.

“You can go now,” he tells her, turning away.

He doesn’t watch as she dresses and quietly leaves his chamber. Aemond feels disappointment that he is unable to derive pleasure from such a carnal act. He has read that it is supposed to evoke excitement within a person, and from the way Aegon behaves he knows it is certainly true. So why does such a feeling evade him?

It matters not, he supposes. He will treat his wife in the same way he has the maidservant this evening. He will not take her by force, and he will be gentle with her. The act will be for the sole purpose of producing heirs, besides that they will live their lives as they please. He did not choose her, and she did not choose him, so he is confident that this will be an arrangement she finds satisfactory.

The next two weeks pass by without incident. Aemond reads, he trains and he flies, and thoughts of his betrothal scarcely enter his mind.

Upon the day of Lorra’s arrival to the Red Keep, he gathers in the Great Hall, with Alicent, Otto, Aegon and Helaena to greet her upon her arrival. He stands straight, hands clasped firmly behind his back, eye scanning the room impatiently. He hates the formality of it all, and wonders what could possibly be taking such a long time.

He will, of course, be dutiful and stand here for as long as necessary, but irritability simmers within him as he exhales heavily through his nose, wishing to be anywhere else right now, the library, the training yard, on dragonback. Such a display seems wholly unnecessary for an arrangement that is a mere formality.

When finally the doors open to the steps that ascend into the Hall, he faces forward, eye fixed upon the Kingsguard that file in. Until he sees her.

Draped in a cerulean cloak, trimmed with grey fur, she seems as though she is floating, rather than walking as she approaches. Her ivory skin is tinged with the faintest of pink against her cheeks and the curls of her ebony hair are braided down her back.

Aemond’s throat runs dry, his heart pounding quickly against his ribcage, and he realises he is holding his breath. The last time he felt such a powerful combination of fear, awe and longing had been the night he had first laid eyes upon Vhagar. It unsettles him, and he is grateful that his hands remain behind his back, otherwise he is certain that she would be able to see how they tremble.

“Lady Lorra of House Stark,” comes the announcement to the Hall, but it sounds distant and far away to Aemond as he stands, transfixed by her.

His blood pumps like liquid fire through his veins. Her eyes, so blue they could almost be sapphires, meet his and he feels a shiver run through him. After a lifetime of resonating in the warmth of flames, he is chilled by the ice that is reflected back at him.

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asumofwords · 11 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: *Hiding in a bunker somewhere underground* hey guys haha, so... heres the next chapter, I couldn't leave you all hanging like that.... so uh yeah, iloveyouokaybyeenjoy <3

Chapter 85: Alys Rivers

Aemond did not take his hands off of you, looking at you with a wide smile upon his lips. A smile which you had not seen for so many years. A smile where his teeth were bared and lines appeared beside his eyes. He had buried his hand in your braids at the back of your head and kissed you.

He poured adoration into you.

Excitement.

Love.

And most importantly, chased away any fears you had in that moment.

It almost felt normal.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and you could not even help the smile that lifted to your own cheeks.

“We must celebrate.” Aemond declared, hand moving forward to touch your lower stomach fondly.

And celebrate you did.

Aemond dove his head between your thighs and brought you to your peak before he fucked himself gently into your folds. You had cried beneath him, both giggling like fools as you let the euphoria of the moment sweep you both away to a place that wasn’t there.

To a place you weren’t trapped inside of.

To a place where you were both happy, both unbridled by the world. Both terribly, deeply, and madly in love.

A little lie.

A little game of pretend.

A reprieve.

Aemond had gone to the door of the chambers, cool expression back on his face as he told the knight to send word to the King and his family that you should all dine together. That there was good news that needed to be shared.

And so, the both of you had gone to the Small Dining Hall, hand in hand, and sat at the table first, waiting for the rest of the Hightower’s, and closest members of the council to arrive and join the two of you.

The three of you.

You were strung with anxiety, a nervousness that you could not squash.

What would they say?

What would they do?

Would Aegon be mad?

The Greens would no doubt be elated for the news, another bolster to support their treaty. And yet why did you still have fear?

Your leg bounced beneath the table as you waited, Aemond watching you cooly, his well schooled mask carefully placed back over his face. You chewed at your bottom lip, hands wringing in your lap as you continued to glance at the doors behind you.

“Zaldrītsos.” Aemond whispered, trying to calm your nerves, thumb pulling your lip from between your teeth.

The doors opened behind you and your leg immediately ceased its bounding, posture straightening in your chair as you laid your hands delicately in your lap. You did not turn as Otto Hightower and Alicent Hightower were announced to the two of you as they came around the intimate table to sit where they usually sat.

“Mother.” Aemond bowed his head.

“Aemond.” She greeted him back.

Otto was silent, only nodding his head at his grandson before leaning back in his chair, adjusting the Hand pin on his lapel as he kept his eye to the doors.

One by one, Lord Jasper Wylde, Maester Orwyle, Jason Lannister, and then finally, the King himself entered the chambers, finding their respected seats, waiting for whatever news was to come.

Aegon looked irritated, as though he had been pulled away from something of interest, or perhaps had an inkling of what was to be announced. After all, how could you not. The Prince and Princess, the treaty pact, have news to share with the council.

Anyone but a fool could figure that out.

But still, the announcement was needed, and Aemond was insistent upon it.

You suspected he wanted to see Aegon’s reaction.

Another pissing contest between the two brothers.

The Lords spoke amongst themselves as they waited for the meal and announcement. Alicent said her prayer to the Seven, specifically focusing on the Mother and Maiden, before finishing with a flourish.

She knew.

“Your Grace,” You turned to the Dowager Queen, her bright eyes watching you closely, “I remember you telling me that perhaps I could have an embroidery loom. I think I would much like to have it soon.”

Alicent’s face softened, and she nodded, “I will have one of the maids bring it to your chambers.”

“Thank you.” You gave her a tight lipped smile.

Aegon cleared his throat loudly, flicking his fingers boredly, “So what’s this all about? Are we to wait for your big reveal all evening?”

Aemond reached forward, grasping his goblet, and you mirrored his action. Pushing up on his long legs he stood at the table, looking over all the Lords and his family as he held the goblet towards you.

“My wife and I bring good news to the Council, and to the King,” You noted Aemond did not say my King, or our King, “We have an heir.”

You looked across the table.

Alicent beamed at her son, motherly pride on her face before she flicked her eyes to you, raising her cup in your direction. Otto Hightower raised his cup to the both of you, a quiet “Congratulations” on his tongue. The rest of the Lords followed suit, all raising their cups to you.

However, Jason Lannister looked confused.

Idiot.

“Your heir in Harrenhal?” Aegon mocked, and you breathed deeply in through your nose. The table’s energy shifted.

Aemond was quiet, but you were quick to the whip.

“No, our heir. I’m with child.” You smiled up at your husband fondly, hand coming to sit at your stomach in show. “Early days, but we wished to share the good news with you all.”

“Congratulations, Princess,” Alicent smiled at you softly, a true smile, one that she rarely ever gave, “Joyous news indeed.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Aegon hummed, “I wonder how the child will bare resemblance to its father. Time will tell.”

Your hand clenched against your robes tightly, “I hope that he has his fathers eyes.” You blinked up at Aemond.

“He?” Aegon remarked.

“Of course. A strong Prince. I will have to send word to my mother and father, perhaps the Queen will send an egg from the next clutch to put in his cradle.”

"Strong. Hm." Aegon hummed, smirk on his face.

You fought the urge to sneer at him.

Alicent beamed, “I am sure Queen Rhaenyra will be delighted by such news.”

You had a feeling that she would not.

You nodded your head at the auburn haired woman, Aemond holding your hand gently. Jason Lannister offered congratulations, yet upon hearing your declaration of a son, his voice rose across the table as the rest of the Lords and King went back to their more relaxed chatter.

“A young Prince?.” He began, “And when should we expect a Princess?”

You gave a small huff of a laugh, still holding Aemond’s hand, “I can assure you that it would be soon after.” You gave a wide smile, and Jason returned it.

“Excellent news then.” His gaze shifted to the One-Eyed Prince, “Congratulations, My Lord. You are a lucky man. A small piece of advice from a father to one soon to be, do not argue with a wife when pregnant, you will never win.”

Aemond hummed, “I rarely do.”

You smiled snidely at Aemond, “And for good reason. Best to remember that.”

“Hm.”

Aegon continued to stare at you for a time, before a smile wound its way on his face. He lifted his goblet towards you, then drank from it slowly, eyes still watching you over the rim of the cup.

It set you on edge.

The rest of the night, the Lords included you amongst discussion, a rare and almost confusing affair. Though now, you supposed they did not see you as a threat. You were pregnant. A brooding mare, and the breath that had long since been held at the beginning of the treaty had been released. This child would strengthen their position in the eyes of the realm. And most likely weaken yours.

Good.

Let them underestimate me.

When you made your way back to your chambers, Aemond could scarcely keep his hands off of you. Stripping you bare as soon as you entered the chambers, laying you on the chaise as he praised you, kissing his way down your body in front of the fire, lingering hands cradling your stomach as he pressed kisses with care atop it. Your heart was in your throat, fluttering like a butterfly as you watched.

It was tender.

It was loving.

It was pure.

He brought you to your peak thrice that evening atop his tongue, whispering words of praise to you.

“My perfect wife."

“My perfect thing."

“Going to be a perfect mother.”

“Can’t wait to see you swell.”

He even spent much attention to your breasts, lapping at your sensitive peaks, gently suckling them into his mouth as he groaned. It sent sparks shooting up and down your spine, your senses heightened by it all.

By the time you made your way to bed, Aemond had spilt his seed inside of you, kissing at your neck and cheeks, before placing his lips atop your eyelids with chaste devotion.

The anxiety of the day had slipped away, and a blooming sense of joy had swelled inside your chest.

When you woke the next morning, it was to the unfamiliarity of cold sheets. Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you let your arm slide through the bed in search of your husband, confused as to why you had not woken in his arms as you usually did. When your hands reached nothing, you sat yourself up, head turning to see Aemond watching you, seated atop the chair beside the bed.

You frowned at him, the chill of the chambers setting goosebumps rippling over your skin.

But something else was wrong.

Something was amiss.

Aemond did not smile at you, nor did he move to come back into bed. He did not even greet you a good morning. Instead, sitting still as he observed you.

Your heart began to beat a little faster in your chest. You pulled the sheets close to your waist, completely bare in front of him. You let your hand rest against your stomach, hoping that the movement would calm whatever storm was passing through Aemond’s violet eye.

His gaze lowed to your stomach, and a small puff of air moved through his nose. Almost like a sigh.

“Come back to bed,” You pouted, “It’s cold.”

Why was he looking at me like that?

Something was wrong.

Aemond didn’t move from his seat. Nor did he respond to your request, instead watching you with a hawklike stare. Shifting in the sheets you pulled them up to your shoulders, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Aemond, what’s wrong?” Your voice was quiet, and your throat seemed to begin to close in on itself.

Was he angry?

What had you done?

What was the matter?

Aemond stood from his seat and moved to stand before the edge of the bed, towering over you as he looked down at your form amongst the plush, green sheets. Long fingers came forward to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, tingles running through your scalp at the contact. And yet he still did not answer you.

“Aem?” You furrowed your brows at him, unsure, your hand reaching out to grasp his wrist. Aemond stilled his movement, eye flicking across your face as he took you in.

From your messed hair that tumbled down your back, to the fatigue that was still pressed into your face, to the small love bite that he had nipped just below your ear.

You watched as Aemond’s chest expanded.

“Aegon is sending me back to Harrenhal.” He spat through his teeth.

It was as though you had been doused in ice, cold water. Your grip tightened around his wrist as he looked at you from above. It wasn’t until that moment did you notice that Aemond wore his riding leathers.

“What?” It came out as barely a whisper.

Aemond breathed through his nose heavily as he repeated himself.

“Aegon has commanded I fly to Harrenhal. With haste.”

You jerked your hand away from him, letting go of the grip you had on his wrist. Disgust and anger winding its way within. And the simmering rage that you had squashed coming alight again.

He was going back to Harrenhal.

To see his whore, and his bastard.

After everything.

After everything he still goes back to her.

His Alys.

You scoffed, ripping the sheets away from you as you stood from the bed, grabbing the robe beside it as you tugged it onto your body heavily, feeling your face heat with anger.

Aemond was to leave you alone in the Keep with Aegon.

Alone with Aegon.

Fear turned in your stomach.

'Perhaps.'

“Fuck.” You gasped, feeling as though a hand had wrapped itself around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Y/n.” Aemond whispered, walking around to your side of the bed.

“Don’t.” You snapped back at him, pulling the tie around your waist tightly as you gripped it for dear life, your knuckles cracking from the force. You could feel your nails digging into your palms.

And you welcomed it.

Your teeth ground down against each other as you tried to steel yourself from lashing out at him. As you tried to desperately school your temper, but the waves continued to rise inside of you until the water overflowed.

You spun on your heel, brows drawn, and sneered at the Prince, “You told me you would never leave me alone in this Keep again. You gave me your word.”

Aemond’s hand came to reach out and touch you, his face falling, “If I ha-“

“-Don’t touch me!” You growled, slapping his hand away from you before it could touch your flesh.

Aemond stilled, swallowing thickly as his jaw ticked.

“You’re going back to your whore.” You scowled, feeling stupid that you could have ever even believed him.

You had given him a chance, you thought that after Aegon, this could have been different. That he could be different. That he could change, be a good man and keep his word. But you were wrong.

And you felt more betrayed in that moment than you ever had. More angry than you ever had. You felt like a fool. A pitiful fool.

Hope is a fools ally.

And you had been just that.

Aemond’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides as you looked up at him, letting him see your anger, your contempt.

Let him see.

Let him see that any bridge that had been built was now lost.

That he had tossed flames atop it.

He did this.

“Aegon has commanded it.” He grit out, “I have little choice. I need to go as a Prince to attend to my duties.”

You laughed.

Sincerely laughed.

His duties.

But as the waves of anger kept coming, a hole opened and sucked the water down into it, and soon you tumbled down after, into fear.

“You love her, don’t you? Don’t you?” You asked shakily, searching your uncles face for any sign of deception. Any sign or inkling of truth. To see how he would react.

Aemond frowned at you, taking another step forward, “No,” He said in disbelief, “I love you.”

You scoffed as you looked at him, feeling your chest ache, “I don’t believe you.”

The Prince’s face softened as he moved to step forward towards you again, hand coming to graze your shoulder, “Then let me show you.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his palm on you, the heat of his skin atop the robe, the way his pupil expanded as he looked down at you, how his chest rose and feel sharply.

Disgust sank in your stomach.

“No.” You slapped his hand away from you, storming past him, trying to get space. Trying to collect yourself.

Incensed that you were stupid enough to think that he was capable of change.

“Zaldrītsos.”

You ignored him, flitting about the chambers in anger. Pacing about the length of the room as you felt it begin to shrink, the walls closing in on you.

He was going back to her.

And he was leaving you here with him.

“I can’t believe I fell for it.” You breathed, one hand tight against your stomach where the tie of the robe dug harsh into your skin, the other bawled into a tight fist at your side, “I am such a fool.”

Aemond walked towards you, almost stalking you quietly as he watched you continue to pace.

You laughed humourlessly, “I am a stupid, stupid fool. I knew that hope was a fools ally, and yet I still let myself have hope in you.” You spun to face him, teeth bared as you snapped, whilst Aemond watched you with a cool face, “And here you are, ready to put your cock in the cunt of your whore, whilst your bed has only just been warmed by your wife!”

“Y/n-”

Rage burnt through your veins, and you did not contain it.

"You go to Harrenhal, do you not? You are to go to her and your bastard."

"Aegon is trying to-"

"You go to her," You sucked in a breath, "And I will never forgive you. You go to her, and I will take what is owed, fire and blood, I swear it. I swear to you Aemond, you go to her..." You left the empty threat in the air like smoke.

The Prince's posture stiffened, "You think to threaten me?"

"It is not a threat, it is a promise. I do not break my word as often as you. Unlike you, I stay true to it."

"The King commands me and I must go, you know this. He has mentioned treason in passing if I do not."

"Then perhaps I shall go to him when you leave."

Aemond's eye twitched, and his voice lowered, "Y/n-"

“No, Fuck you! Go to your whore and bastard.”

Aemond’s eye twitched as he watched your chest heave with angry breaths, “You question my honour?”

You laughed loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth before you dropped it back to your side as you looked up at him. His hair was pulled back away from his face, and the light of the early sun cast shadows across his cheeks and eyes.

He looked dangerous.

But you didn’t care.

“Honour? You’ve already fucked her. You fucked a child inside of her.” You jeered, “Do you deny it?”

He does not deny it.

He does not deny anything.

Aemond took a steadying breath, battling his own anger poorly as he grit out a quiet ‘no’.

You laughed again, shaking your head to turn away from him, walking towards the chamber doors angrily, “No, I don’t question your honour.” You finally turned back towards him, watching as he stayed rooted to the spot, his chest suddenly still.

You were seething.

“I deny its mere existence.” You watched as Aemond’s gaze darkened, and it served to spur you further.

Taking another step back towards him your snarled, “You and your brother are cut from the same cloth.”

You turned on your heel and ripped the door open, storming out the chambers in only a robe, not caring for who sees you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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meraxesmoon · 7 months

Note

but imagine the adventures of Daemons Bastard!reader and grumpy grandpa Balerion!!!!

I’m seeing reader coming out and spending her first nights with Daemon and his fam sneaking out to gramps and curling up against him and just crying silently until she falls asleep😭😭😭

Then some random losers one day make fun of reader in the palace courtyard for being a bastard and gramps just pokes his head in and is NOT amused

Gramps just senses when the reader wants to leave somewhere and just yoinks her out of whatever situation she’s in

Part 2 I want to see the reaction about the basted daughter of Daemons having balerion as dragon green and black reaction

This is so good, I love this little series so much!

Daemon, at first, is so damn proud of his baby! However, it also holds some bitterness for him, considering Balerion was his brother's dragon as well. I like to imagine while bastard! (Name) is a spitfire like her father. She'd most likely be a peaceful person much like her uncle Viserys. Of course, Daemon, being Daemon, would consider using Balerion to his advantage, but that pretty much goes to the wind once he realizes that Balerion has no interest in war anymore. That being said, I feel like Daemon would come to resent Balerion due to (Name) spending more time with her dragon rather than her family.

Rhaenyra thinks the world of her precious stepdaughter. The little girl is everything to Rhaenyra, and our queen just wants to be a mother to her. (Name) pushes her away quite a bit, but after bonding with Balerion, she needs someone to help her with dragon commands. (Name) wouldn't want to ask Daemon, so she goes to Rhaenyra and Luke the most. Rhaenyra loves spending time riding on their dragons together, and after a while, I feel like they would get closer. There's a certain admiration that Rhaenyra has for her sweet little stepdaughter, but she worries as well. She knows that dragons can be dangerous, and she's terrified of their sweet baby potentially getting hurt.

Jacaerys thinks that it's so cool! He's always wanted a little sister, so once Daemon brought (Name) home, they were all elated. Jace particularly takes a liking to her and looks after her the first couple of months that she stays on Dragonstone. They're very hard on (Name), considering she misses her mother and siblings, but Jace in intent on making her life a little bit happier. He's a positive influence on her, and I feel like she's probably relied on Jace quite a bit. Rhaenyra is very supportive of this and loves seeing her children get along with their new sister!

Lucerys and (Name) are the closest out of everyone in the family. I HC that Luke is extremely good at High Valyrian, so he tutors (Name) in the new language so she can communicate with Balerion freely. Due to this, they become very close, and (Name) is very open with Luke. As for her and Balerion, Lucerys finds Balerion absolutely terrifying. Of course, this doesn't stop him from accompanying his sister on dragon rides together, but he finds Balerion unsettling. When (Name) is made upset by Daemon, she always runs to Luke <3

Baela and Rhaena are very proud of their little sister, Baela, especially. I'd like to go into more detail about their dynamic with bastard! (Name), but basically, they both adore her to bits. Rhaena would be closer with their younger sister, and (Name) would take her on rides on Balerion. Since (Name) is relatively young, both Baela and Rhaena want her to be careful on her dragon, worrying that she may fly off of her saddle or something like that. I should mention that Baela would be the type to brag about their little sister to others, she's just so proud of (Name)! I love them sm.

Team Green, as a whole, finds the concept of Daemon's daughter being Balerion's new rider. Alicent doesn't want to mess around with this kind of power, and Aegon doesn't feel like being eaten alive so I think the war would probably be put on pause. Otto would probably send a spy to Dragonstone to see if (Name) could be brought to their side, but since she loves her siblings so much it isn't plausible. Aemond and Helaena both hold much admiration for (Name), considering how impressive Balerion is. She is a bastard, though, so I think Team Green would probably target her during the war if it went on.

"Bastard Blood Shed at War."

I HAD AN IDEA

BASTARD (NAME) AND DAERON !!!!

AWE

taglist -> @your-favorite-god @apollonshootafar

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darckxlady · 2 months

Note

could you please do a tutorial of your game of thrones 'so much for stardust' gifs where it has the ripped paper textures? it's so pretty, and i'd like to learn how to do one with just the texture in the middle and two gifs on either side, like half and half and just having a rip in the middle. it's so cool how you did a gif in the middle though so i wanted to ask as well! all of them are so cool looking. you are extremely talented. if you don't want to though i understand :) thank you

TORN PAPER EFFECT + BLENDING TUTORIAL

thank you so much for your sweet words, dearest anon and i'm sorry it took so long to answer but it's here now so i'll try my best to explain <3 disclamer: this is the first tutorial i ever made, it's very screenshot heavy and it assumes the basic knowledge of ps and gifmaking. if there's something you don't understand, don't hesitate to ask <3 so, let's get to it!

1. PREPARING THE BASE As you can see in this shot there's a lot of space between Rhaenyra and Alicent and that makes it perfect for the ripped paper overlay without hiding much of the base gif. So the first thing i did was to crop it like this:

Also you want to make sure that the highlighted box (delete cropped pixels) is unchecked! After taking the usual steps for the animation (creating frames from layers, reversing the frames, setting frame delay) you continue with the video timeline and convert your frames into a smart object. psa: if you don't have the motivation or the time to play around with coloring here are some psds i recommend: 1, 2; as for the sharpening i think this one is the best.

now that you have your smart object sharpened and colored what you want to do next is drag it to the end of the canvas and duplicate it. after that you move the copy on the other end like the original and make sure it's under the coloring layers, like this:

After that you have to create layer masks (the highlighted icon above) for both smart object and the copy and change the blending option of the copy to screen or lighten (whatever looks best!). So this is how it looks now:

pls ignore that there are no layer masks on the smart objects i just added them after changing the blending rip </3 Now, as you see both gifs are like fighting eachother for their rightful place on the canvas. (fgfgfdf) To fix that you have to use a soft round brush to delete the parts you don't want. (feel free to play around with the brush however you want to get the result you want!) Here's my result:

2. THE OVERLAY

Now for the both gifs you want to use for the ripped paper effect you pretty much apply the same steps as the ones you did with the gifs for the base. Here are the two gifs i chose:

Before blending both gifs however you want to create a clipping mask for each of the smart objects coloring layers, like this:

And now you're ready to blend both gifs together! You choose the group with one of the gifs and change the blending again to screen or lighten and place the said group on top of the other. So this is how it looks now:

optional: if you feel like the base gif doesn't pop out enough you can always add a gradient map on one of both gifs and play around with the opacity and the color you think fits best.

Then you add a layer mask on the overlay gif group and again play around with the brush to delete what you don't want. So this is the final result:

ps - don't repeat my mistake by placing the group with the layer mask under the other group. it should be on top and the blending option should be lighten or screen.

After blending both gifs together, you're ready to place them on the base. So first thing you want to do first is place both groups of each gif in one single group together. Then you duplicate the said group in the psd of the base gif and create a layer mask. This is how it should looks:

Now, in order to create the ripped paper effect, you'll have to download a ripped paper brush pack. This is the one i use. After loading the brushes in ps (if you don't know how here is explained) you're ready to begin! Change the size and angle however you'd like to make it look how you want. And if you want you can move the overlay gif by choosing both groups in case you aren't happy with the adjustment. This is how it looks like so far:

We're almost done! Now you have to find a paper texture, (i got mine from google) place it between both groups of your gifs and create a layer mask, like so:

What you have to do here is pretty much the same thing you did with the overlay gifs. Still, make sure there's enough space for the text you want to write in. However, if you think that the space isn't enough you can just delete a bit more of the overlay gifs. Here's mine:

3. THE TEXT

You're finally ready to type out the text you want! If you're having troubles with choosing the right font and size, here are my text settings:

You can always play around with the angle and if your text is too small, zoom in so you can place it just how you like it. And since i'm a bit lazy to deal with it later, i choose to add the highlight color while it's still zoomed. You just have to add an layer above the text and use a soft round brush with opacity from 70-75% and flow from 15-18%.

For the repeated text you want to make sure you create a big space for writing so it can contain the whole space of the torn paper. Also, write where the text will be seen only and use the tab button to skip the space where the gif is. This is how it looks:

Once you're done with writing the repeated text, you want to select all the character layers and the highlight layer and move them under the overlay gif and on top of the paper, like this:

With the layers still selected and in order to contain the text within the paper the last thing you want to do is create a clipping mask. And that's It. You're done! This is the final result:

#allresources #dailyresources #usergif #chaoticresources #gifmakerresource #hisources #onlyresources #alielook #usermaguire #userrobin #usernik #userpat #userbells #gif tutorial #ps help

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justinalovee · 1 year

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𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Word Count: 1246

Warnings: Incest, oral sex

Summary: Daella Targaryen, wife of Aegon and lover of Rhaenyra, does her best to try to help her husband adjust to life in Dragonstone

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI. Aegon is a good guy in this universe

Your heart hurts.

It hurt to know your husband was in physical and emotional pain.

It hurt to hear him cry.

“Hush now, sweet boy; I’m more than happy to be married to you. Our life might not look like how we imagined it, but I wouldn’t change it or change you for anything in the world.” You say it softly while rubbing circles onto his back, soothing him as if he were a child. “We will be happy here, I promise. It will just take some adjusting.”

You desperately hoped that was true.

Aegon rests his head on your shoulder. You kiss his crown gently before running your fingers through his thick, wavy hair, careful not to touch the sensitive welt on his cheek. When Aegon announced you were moving to Dragonstone, his mother slapped him hard across the face, not only hurting him but humiliating him as well.

Alicent had never hidden her disgust at your unconventional relationship with Rhaenyra. She thought it was disgusting, and when the king declared you, his niece, were to marry his firstborn son, Alicent did everything she could to stop the wedding, but the Queen never got her wish, and your betrothal went ahead.

As the only child of Orys Targaryen, the younger brother of King Viserys and Prince Daemon, you had been doted on your whole life, but unlike Rhaenyra, you didn’t have the pressure of ruling one day hanging over you. Your mother, Dana, died on the birthing bed while bringing you into the world, so you grew up extremely close to your father until he died during the battle of the stepstones. He died while riding dragon back; he’d suffered many blows, but an arrow through his neck killed him instantly. The only things that helped you get through such a loss were Rhaenyra and your dragon Meraxes; that was until Aegon came into your life.

“Daella?” He says this, gaining your attention. “You seemed so lost in thought; what were you thinking of?”

“My father. I think he would have liked you; you enjoy a lot of the same things.”

Aegon wipes his nose with the back of his hand, shuffling back slightly so he can look up at you through his swollen eyes. Unconvinced, he asks, “Like what?”

“He enjoyed watching plays, sword fighting, dragon riding, and learning about other cultures.” To most people, Aegon was lazy and uninterested in anything other than drinking, but that wasn’t true. He just preferred to learn about things on his own rather than being taught. You smile at him and say, “And you both love me.”

He kisses your cheek and says, “That I can agree with, although I imagine it’s different types of love.” Aegon’s hand travels to your lower abdomen, drawing soft circles over it with the pad of his fingers. “One day, when the time is right, I’ll put a baby in there, a child that will know nothing but unconditional love.”

—

“Rhaenyra?”

You watched as Rhaenyra silently rose from the chair she sat in, leaving you momentarily confused in a crouching position. Rhaenyra had felt neglected the past few weeks with you spending so much time with Aegon, helping him adjust to life in Dragonstone. This was the first time you’ve had time alone together since arriving. The moment you got her to yourself, you practically latched your mouth to her nipples, making sure to give equal attention to each of her soft breasts, leaving a trail of purple marks scattered behind.

Bending forward across the table, Rhaenyra pulls her gown up to her waist, revealing her bare ass and pussy while her breasts press against the cool wood underneath. You smirk, noticing she had no small cloth on, and you move so you are now behind her. You grip her thighs while waiting to get the heads up to start pleasing her, flicking her silver hair over her shoulder. Rhaenyra gives you a small smile, then nods.

Gently, you scrape your fingers over her cheeks down to her perfect cunny. You spread her pussy lips and plunge your tongue deep inside her, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, your thumb rubbing circles on her clit. Her soft moans of pleasure fill the room while you continue with the same actions as before, occasionally smacking her ass, leaving a faint red mark.

“Oh fuck,” Rhaenyra moans as her legs begin to tremble. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

You continue lapping at her folds, delighted as her fluids cover your mouth and drip down your chin. You shuffle back as Rhaenyra straightens her dress, dropping her gown back into place. Taking your hand, she helps you stand, tasting herself by kissing you on the lips.

“I have missed you, Daella. It's not just us being intimate,” she says, handing you a napkin to wipe your mouth with. “But just us spending time together. We haven’t been dragon riding together in some time.”

“I know,” you say, kissing the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Nyra; I promise I will make it.”

She smiled and said, “Don’t apologize; you are just looking out for your husband. How is Aegon settling in?”

“He’s… adjusting. He wants to start a family soon.”

“I’m delighted for you. Motherhood is a wonderful thing; the love you experience is unlike any other,” she says brightly. “If there’s anything I can do to help make my brother feel more comfortable, please let me know.”

“Of course, thank you.” You thought it would be a good idea for you and Aegon to do more things together to slowly bring him out of his shell. He attended most family meals but remained silent throughout them. He found it difficult to be around loud children and laughing adults when he was used to small talk or silence.

The flapping of wings outside caught your attention, alerting you that your uncle Daemon had returned. Rhaenyra’s face lit up with excitement. Her relationship with your uncle was special; the love they shared was something out of a storybook, however unconventional it may be. “I will leave you to your greetings and see you tomorrow.”

—

You rest your head on Aegon’s lap while he reads to you in high Valyrian from The Volcanic Doom of Valyria, “flames shot sir eglie se bane bona sesir zaldrizoti zaltan.”

You repeat his words. “Flames shot so high and hot that even dragons burned.”

Aegon places the book down on the sheets beside him, careful not to lose his place. The fingers in his free hand brush your hair behind your ear. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” You sit up to face him. “Why don’t we do something fun tomorrow? I was thinking we could go see a play during the day then visit the street or will at night if you like.”

Aegon raises his brows, surprised by your suggestion; he seemed to be torn thinking about it. It saddens you how nervous he appeared. “I would like that, but... I don’t want my mother to know we are there.”

“I understand your love.”

“We could wear disguises,” he suggests. “With our silver hair hidden, we’ll blend in.”

“What an excellent idea.”

“So…” A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “If we go to the street of silk, does that mean I get to fuck you in a brothel?”

Nodding, you pull him in for a kiss. “I want you to fuck me in all the brothels.”

#house of the dragon #Aegon Targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #Aegon Targaryen x fem reader #aegon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen/you #Rhaenyra Targaryen/reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen

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blissfulphilospher · 1 month

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So, I don't know why I am posting this but I had this in my heart since a long time. So, bear with me.

I read Princess and the Queen and Fire and Blood back in 2019, after GoT ended for more content. And I got to know about The Dance from Tumblr, the awesome artists and fanarts.

When I read those books, I felt for Rhaenyra. No I don't have a step mother but Rhaenyra felt alone, like her mother died and her father remarried, her new step mom was first kind and loving but then after a brother all that changed.

I can't blame book Rhaenyra for not having good relationship with her siblings, she was a child, just like them and the world was trying to replace her with them just as her mother had been replaced. (When my brother was born, I felt the same and we don't have the best relationship even now, but you know whose fault is that? Adults. Adults who love to compare and pity siblings against siblings)

Why Viserys never tried to mend the relationship between his eldest son and daughter? Even Alicent tried. And then Daemon evidently manipulated Rhaenyra more to hate her siblings for his own benefit. He was pushed down in succession. (He should never have been in succession)

Then Rhaenyra grows older, bold and doing as she like, fighting her step mother, beefing with her siblings and people are following her. She is being courted and has freedom in that era.

I liked book Rhaenyra because she seemed ruthless. She wasn't trying to pretend being good, she was ambitious, she was fighting for the throne because her father chose her. Not because of a stupid prophecy. We all know how that ended. She wanted the throne. (I will eat my brother alive if my father chose me for something and not him). She was unhinged.

And I liked that about her. I liked Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was greatly flawed, she offered her brothers for Laenor, she fed a man to her dragon, she hosted a lavish feast in a starving city, she was a woman and let men do the fighting. She was a mother and did everything to protect her children (foolishly though). She faced death with bravery and didn't begged and didn't offered negotiation, didn't ran. A true dragon. Like those menacing cruel dragons?

And then HotD gave us...

1) 'I rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory' but she isn't train with swords. If she wants that then why isn't she trained? Was this to appease Arya's fans? Also this message of feminism, 'a woman only cool and worth something when she wants to be like men, Do what men does.' I am not saying this is bad but you are making her a feminist atleast let her appreciate females? Also, again, if she wanted to train with swords then why didn't she? Nobody stopped Visenya and Alyssa, no one would have stopped her.

2) On Aegon's nameday, enough people have said that already, Rhaenyra being mean to her two year old brother and acting like a spoilt child but I want to add this—

Everyone came there for Aegon, hoping Viserys will name him heir. HotD gave us Rhaenyra acting like a brat and then killing a boar and totally projecting her as a protagonist by showing White Hart, and sexy cool asf covered with blood. She could have made alliance, like book Rhaenyra would have mingled with everyone, dressed better than everyone, charming everyone. Not arguing with other ladies and lords.

3) Daemyra. Enough said. I never thought Book Rhaenyra and Book Daemon had any great love story, they were not even written as such. Nah, Rhaenyra desired Criston, tried to seduce him first. Daemon was only using her. He had one healthy relationship in the book and that was with Laena. They both came together because none of them considered Alicent and her children as their family too.

I hate this show for promoting them as some great tragic love. Nah, Rhaenyra needed his protection and Daemon wanted to be closer to the throne. Why didn't they let them be that? How are they going to justify as to why Daemon left Rhaenyra and his son alone to go die along with Aemond?

And if Daemyra is a great tragic love story why they got afraid to show Rhaenyra having Laenor murdered? Because that was the level of her craziness in the books, and that's in the character of Daemyra. That's 'I will do anything to be with you, for you' energy.

Gods, I thought Rhaenyra would be Cersei Lannister level in HotD, cool, snarky, awesome, beautiful, unhinged, fashion icon, doing everything for her children, doing everything for her and not shying away from the person she is, a necessary evil (like feeding Vaemond to Syrax). And incestuous. Of course Jaime x Cersei level of craziness in Daemyra?

In HotD... Emma and Milly did awesome job but their character was bland. Served to us by writers as 'a goody two shoes always right'. 'she can do nothing wrong.'

Why is media afraid of showing what women are? Why can we only be 'goody two shoes, patriarchy bad, I am awesome cause I am not like other girls' in feminist shows? Why can't they women as humans, as grey, ambitious? Why can't woman be anti hero? Rhaenyra is suffering from stereotyped blend of Arya and Dany.

Alicent is a fresh breath in that regard. But I hate the show for stripping away her agency and making her a crybaby. You are showing me that the Queen, who may or not have murdered Viserys, cried for him? That her, who plotted and plotted and led the Greens, crowned her daughter would not want her son to be king?

They even changed the dinner scene, everyone was supposed to make fun of the other party. No heartwarming and Aegon was supposed to fight Jace.

But make two female characters cry over each other, cry over men, abuse them, strip their agency, make the person you are trying to show as protag (she should not even be a protag) blander than water and call it a feminist show.

(HotD should not even be a feminist show, it should have been a family drama show. Imagine my embarrassment when I told my brother that I love Rhaenyra and I am just like her before the show started and by the end I was like ... Wow Aegon Second of His Name, I stan the One True King. Because he, despite they made him a monster is more interesting than Rhaenyra at this point.)

I was robbed. We were robbed of spicy hot pizza and instead given a bland cheese toast.

I refuse to eat bread, give me cake. Cersei, Margaery, Catelyn were cake, Alicent... She is the cookie. (Not adding Sansa because in the end of the show... Book Sansa is pastry.)

At this moment we all most cope. Thank you whoever read this. Also wanted to add, I was Team Woman but I can't stan this Rhaenyra. Nah.

#alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #fire and blood #cersei lannister #anti hotd #book rhaenyra #anti hotd Rhaenyra #this is not feminism #team green #anti daemyra #anti team black

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Down in Flames (modern!HOTD) 7

previous ~ next ~ series masterlist

pairings: modern!Aegon x Reader & modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: You're invited! To a totally not awkward dinner party at the home of Viserys and Alicent, as they attempt to smooth over the animosity between the members of their family.

warnings: 18+ spicy stuff below the cut (explicit sexual situations, oral fem receiving, edging) language, mentions of Aemond's eye injury, fighting, blood, alcohol/drinking

word count: 6.7k

note: another long one because this fic is literally my baby 💚

masterlist

As Aemond pulls up the car to his mother’s house, your whole body tenses. The home of Viserys and Alicent Targaryen looms in the distance up a winding stone driveway. Lights mark a path of stars toward the front door, the glow warm and inviting. It appears as though every room in the mansion is lit, as though burning from within.

The last time you were at the Targaryen home was nearly a year ago. Christmas time. A different brother in the driver’s seat.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask Aemond.

“Viserys wants us to,” Aemond said, fingers curling on the wheel, his knuckles blanching.

Aemond’s jaw and shoulders are tense as he slouches over the wheel. He looks the same as when he received the call from his mother; irritated but dutiful nonetheless. Aemond was not one to disappoint Alicent Hightower.

“This is such a shitty idea,” you tell him.

“Well he’s a shitty father so it only makes sense,” Aemond says, smiling tightly.

“At least he’s consistent,” you agree.

“You’re funny,” Aemond says, getting out of the car.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and go to open the door, but somehow Aemond has beaten you to it, opening the car door for you. He extends a hand, helping you out of the car.

“What a gentleman,” you tell him, earning a hum, “you gonna carry me across the threshold too?”

“You want me to?” he asks, lips tugging into a smirk.

That would cause a riot, you’re sure of it. Though you admit, the thought is tempting. You roll your eyes, shoving him with your shoulder. When Alicent called Aemond telling him to come for dinner, she proposed it as a rather extravagant dinner party. Anything the Targareyns did was extravagant if you were being honest.

Apparently it was Viserys’ idea, to ease the tension between the band, and between Rhaenrya. You hadn’t seen Rhaenyra in a long time, and shit was definitely about to go down.

Which led to you having to run home to your apartment to grab your favorite dress. A silky green number that hugged your every inch perfectly, wrapped around you like a second skin. Aemond chose a dark suit, the entire number pitch black. It’s as though Aemond has an aversion to color, despite the blue gemstone that replaced his eye.

“Ha ha,” you joke, walking next to him up the driveway and to the cobblestone walkway that leads to the front door.

Your heels click against the stone, the only sound in the cool night. The air is brisk, and your breath puffs in front of you like a cloud of smoke. It had been days since the blowup. Since Aegon and Cass. Since Rhaena. Your stomach turns at the thought of seeing them both. Everyone is coming no doubt, if this is supposed to be some sort of reconciliation dinner.

You stop just outside the door, bathed in the light that hangs above the door. A beautiful seven pointed star spilling diamonds of light on the stoop.

“You ready?” Aemond asks, sliding his hand into yours sending your heart fluttering.

“As I’ll ever be,” you tell him and he knocks on the door.

The knocker is huge, a dragon holding a ring between its jaws. The door opens rather quickly to Alicent, Aemond’s mother. Her auburn hair is held away from her face, and she wears a sparkling green sweater and dress pants. Her face breaks out into a relieved smile at the sight of her second son.

Alicent always takes your breath away; she had Aegon terribly young, her face still youthfully beautiful as she has just started to gracefully age.

“Aemond,” she breathes, pulling him into a hug.

“Hey mom,” he says, placing a kiss on her head.

The sweet action makes your heart swell. Alicent turns to you.

“And Y/N!” she says, embracing you, “it's been too long dearest.”

Alicent’s hug nearly makes you burst into tears. You let yourself get lost in her arms for a moment, breathing in her Chanel N°5 perfume. As she pulls away she places a hand under your chin.

“Beautiful as ever, I see,” she compliments, causing you to blush.

“Come in! Let's get out of the cold,” she says, ushering you inside, “Helaena is here already.”

Thank every deity that exists, Helaena is your saving grace. As you walk in the foyer you hear a loud bark, before a bundle of golden fur barrels towards you. Instinctively you drop to your knees, fingers tangling in soft tufts of fur as a warm wet tongue laps at your cheeks.

“Sunfyre!” Alicent scolds, grabbing for the golden retriever’s collar.

“It’s okay, really,” you tell her through laughs as the excited dog continues to push himself into your lap.

Sunfyre always did think he was a lapdog rather than the gigantic ball of fluff he was. You let him lick your face a moment more, scratching at his neck generously, earning several wags of his tail.

“He’s such a spoiled boy,” Alicent scolds, finally tugging him away from you, “I’ll have to put him upstairs or he’ll overturn the table.”

You rise from the floor wiping slobber from your cheeks. Helaena appears from down the hall eagerly, smiling at you. She swishes over to you, gold skirts following her like a trail of liquid sunlight.

“Hey guys,” Helaena says, “you ready for this?”

“Who told him this was a good idea?” Aemond asks, taking your coat.

“I don’t know, not me obviously,” Helaena says, shrugging, “but I think it's a bunch of things, you know?”

You nod, as footsteps come eagerly crashing down the stairs, drawing your attention. A lanky boy with shaggy silver hair appears, violet eyes sparkling.

“Ohmygod Daeron!” you exclaim, as the youngest Targaryen sibling comes to the end of the stairs.

His grin is lopsided as he throws his arms around you, nearly lifting you off of the floor. He’s grown since studying abroad, no longer a scrappy teen.

“Hey Y/N!” he says, squeezing you before releasing you.

He clasps Aemond’s hand in a friendly shake before looking around.

“Where’s Aeg? Not with you?” Daeron asks, brow furrowing.

“Uh,” you tell him, “that’s really a long story.”

“Dude I told you,” Helaena says, rolling her eyes, “there’s been some shifting around here.”

“Right, right,” Daeron said apologetically, “sorry, so you two are…?”

You and Aemond glance at each other.

“Yeah,” Aemond answers, “yeah we are.”

You can’t help but smile. Daeron nods, approvingly.

“Cool, I can get behind that,” he tells you, as the door opens again.

Baela is just slipping out of her coat, Alicent closing the door behind her and Jace. She meets your eyes. You haven’t spoken in days, it's the longest you’ve gone without talking. You decide to give her space, walking into the formal living space where a barcart has been prepared with several bottle of wine.

Baela kisses Alicent politely and you turn around pouring her a glass of wine, along with one for yourself. A peace offering. As you turn back, Baela has already made her way to you.

“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly.

“Hey,” you say, matching her energy, “Chardonnay?”

A smile twists on her lips before she takes the glass from you.

“You know me well,” she says, clinking her glass against yours.

“Mhmm,” you answer, taking a sip from your own glass, unsure of what to say.

“You done being stupid?” she tells you, the question filled with all the love only a best friend can deliver.

“I missed you,” you tell her and she sighs dramatically.

“I’ve missed you too, can this all stop now?” she tells you, “if I have to spend one more night chilling with Jace and Luke watching football I’m going to go crazy. Do you understand how annoying they are?”

You snicker.

“One of those people is your boyfriend,” you remind her.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying,” she answers, “he doesn’t take the place of a best friend.”

You smile so wide you think your face will split in half. You’ve missed her so much. You wonder if making amends with Rhaena will be as easy, but something in your gut twists telling you it will not.

“Where’ve you been staying?” Baela asks, sipping her wine.

“Helaena’s sometimes,” you tell her, “and at the apartment.”

Baela raises her eyebrows.

“Girl, you’re ballsy,” she says, laughing a little.

“What? Is that bad?” you ask, frowning.

Baela purses her lips, giving you an ‘are you for real?’ look.

“Getting dicked down one room over from the one you used to share with your ex?” she asks.

“It’s not like Aegon is there,” you hiss, cheeks burning.

“Mhmm,” Baela says, a mischievous glint in her eye, “you’re going to have to tell me all about it. Every single dirty detail. Was I right?”

“About what?”

Baela rolls her eyes, as though you should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“About Aemond eating pussy like a champ,” she tells you.

Your whole body grows warm remembering his mouth on you. Baela’s mouth drops open as you fail to answer, as she watches your cheeks darken as you take a small sip from your glass.

“I fucking knew it!” Baela hollers, smiling while she answers, “you’re getting dicked down, slurped out-”

Jace makes his way over and you’re shushing her relentlessly as she laughs.

“What’re we talking about?” he asks, smiling at you.

“Y/N’s turned into a bad girl,” Baela says, causing Jace to flush and avoid your eyes.

“Um okay?” Jace says, scratching the back of his neck.

“She totally is,” Luke says joining, jumping into the conversation, “she Yoko’d us.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, nearly choking on your wine.

Luke raises his eyebrows at you, sipping on the beer he holds, before shoving one hand into his pocket. You don’t know when he even arrived, you hadn’t heard the door open.

“You know, broke up the band?” Luke says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I didn’t break up the band,” you tell him, “I didn’t!”

“Mhmm,” Luke says, sipping his drink.

“That makes no sense,” Baela says, frowning at Luke.

“It makes sense to me,” he answers.

“Okay Luke,” you tell him laughing.

This feels good. Normal even. You feel your nerves begin to ease when Rhaena enters the room. You meet her eyes as her forehead creases when she notices you. Luke clears his throat before walking over to greet her.

“She’s Luke’s date,” Jace tells you.

“Bae,” Rhaena calls, waving over her sister.

Baela gives you an apologetic smile.

“Talk later?” she says, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you tell her, “she can’t be mad at me forever, can she?”

Baela’s expression does nothing but fuel the anxiety that burns under your skin.

“Just give her time,” Baela answers, “she’ll be okay. She just needs a little more time.”

Baela squeezes your hand before walking across the room to join her. Aemond materializes beside you, his cologne making your mouth water. Rhaena’s stare burns through you.

“Let me talk to her,” Aemond murmurs, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Not now,” you tell him.

“Later,” he agrees, a hand lazily wrapping a hand around your waist.

Something you’ve learned about Aemond since making it official; he cannot keep his hands to himself. His hand remains when the door opens, Aegon and Cass stumbling in. Cass supports Aegon against her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She’s terribly pretty, dressed in a silk dress that matches her eyes. Aegon is barely dressed, shirt untucked, tie hanging limply around his neck. Your brow creases and you can’t stop the worry you feel noting his red rimmed eyes.

He’s getting worse. You didn’t even think that was possible.

Daemon and Rhaenyra enter behind them, Rhaenyra rolling her eyes as she crosses the threshold. There is something unnervingly beautiful about Rhaenyra Targaryen, like she stepped out of a storybook.

Daemon sends you a nod, after eyeing Aemond’s arm around your waist and you look away from him. Something about Daemon’s look makes your skin crawl, as though he’s saying you and I aren’t so different.

“Let’s sit, everyone,” Alicent calls, clanging a fork against her glass, “dinner is ready.”

“Great,” Aegon says, pushing by you, “I’m starving.”

The table is silent beside the clanging of silverware against the fanciest plates you’ve seen. Viserys joined, wheeled in by Alicent’s private bodyguard Criston Cole, and he’s barely conscious, wheezing over his plate. If he notices the tension between the members of his family he does not comment on it.

Alicent’s eyes flicker throughout the room, her nose twitches like a nervous rabbit. You glance at Aemond, but he remains looking forward. Gods this is so awkward. You meet Rhaena’s eyes and she quickly looks away, mouth remaining in a frown. You feel yourself flush, as a hand creeps to your knee. Aemond’s fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, before giving your knee a comforting squeeze.

You’re in so deep.

You’re at the most awkward family dinner of your life, and all you can think about is how you wish Aemond would let his hand creep higher under your dress.

Bad girl. Stop that. You shake the thought from your head.

Daemon laughs into his plate, earning a stern glance from Rhaenyra. Cass sits bright eyed next to Aegon, seemingly just happy to be here. Viserys leans up from his plate, glancing around the room.

“I’m so…happy you’re all here,” he says, speaking for the first time.

Mumbles happen, lots of ‘of course Dad’ and ‘yeahs.’

“Business can tear families apart, but even with two creative visions, we are still a strong foundation,” he continues, “still one family.”

You raise your eyebrows. It’s like Viserys doesn’t have a clue what’s been going on. He simply smiles around the room revealing several missing teeth.

“And my song,” Viserys says looking at the ceiling, “my child you sing it so beautifully.”

You’re not sure which child Viserys is referring to.

You meet Baela’s eyes, her confused expression mirrors yours. The other faces around the room also appear perplexed at Viserys’ statement. Daeron looks the most confused, as though he’s not quite sure what this dinner was supposed to be about in the first place.

“I’m tired Aemma,” Viserys says suddenly, “I’m going to bed. The rest of you enjoy.”

His eyes are watery, gaze confused as he begins to rise from his seat.

Your heart pounds and you glance at Alicent, though she barely seems fazed by Viserys calling her the name of his first wife. She simply watches him stand, and leave the room while remaining seated.

“Okay fuck that,” Aegon says suddenly.

Rhaenyra glares at him, but he continues to smile.

“Dad wrote that song for us,” Aegon tells her.

“He gave it to me, asshole,” Rhaenyra snaps.

“It’s a song about all of us,” Aegon argues, “you don’t get it just cause you decided to fuck off.”

Rhaenyra almost lets it go, Daemon watching her closely. But Aegon can’t help himself as he finishes his drink. You can see down his throat, that’s how wide he opens up making sure every last drop of whiskey makes in his gullet. Cass looks at him, eyebrows knitting together.

“Entitled bitch,” he grunts, and Jace stands.

“Why don’t you just sing it together?” Cass asks, taking Aegon’s hand in hers. You watch her squeeze it. Aegon hates holding hands. You meet his lavender gaze.

“Never going to happen,” Aegon tells her, not pulling away from Cass’s grip.

“It’s my song Aegon, it was mine long before you were here,” Rhaenyra continues, “I’ve made the edits, I sang the demo-”

“Are you still talking?” Aegon snaps, causing Cass to flinch beside him at his harsh tone.

“Okay, Aegon enough,” Jace tells him, resting his hands on the table. He hasn’t sat down.

“You’re on her side now?” Aegon asks, “that’s it huh?”

“It’s her song,” Jace argues, “this doesn’t have to be a huge fight.”

Luke laughs, a small snort escapes him but it's enough to set Aemond off. He stands from his chair beside you, eye narrowing at Luke. Aegon’s eyes are glassy, they seem to glow with mischief at the tension in the room. He loves provoking people.

“No it only has to be a fight when it's something you care about,” Aegon argues.

Your blood runs cold, watching Aegon’s gaze flicker toward Aemond. Jace turns red, but he keeps his gaze averted from Aemond. From Luke.

“We’re not talking about that,” Jace argues.

The accident.

You look up at Aemond who is standing unnaturally still. You can’t help but wonder if Aegon is bringing it up just to provoke him, rather than from a place of genuine concern.

“We are now,” Aegon tells him, leaning back in his chair, “my brother gets maimed and its all, no let's keep playing, but one little song-”

“Shut up Aegon,” Luke snaps, fingers gripping his cutlery so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“No, I’m not done,” Aegon says standing, “what’s got you so loyal to Nyra, huh?”

“Fuck Aegon,” Jace says shaking his head, “its just about being a decent person.”

Aegon scoffs at that.

“I don’t think anyone here has a fucking clue about what that means,” he says laughing.

“You included, asshole,” Baela snarls from across the table, “do you have any idea what you’ve been putting us through?”

“Everyone seems fine,” Aegon answers, an angry gaze falling to you, “happy even.”

“You don’t need to agree,” Rhaenyra says suddenly, “Jace and Luke have already agreed to drop the song and re-record it with me.”

“Fucking of course,” Aegon says, shaking his head.

“Enough of this,” Alicent orders, “let’s have a nice remainder of dinner.”

Aemond sits back down at his mother’s words. You bring your hand to his leg.

“I’m having a lovely time,” Aegon insists, leaning back and resting his arm across Cass’s shoulders.

“Aegon,” Aemond says, voice low. Aegon meets his gaze, mouth tugging upwards into a smirk.

“What?” he challenges.

“Enough,” Aemond says, to the surprise of Rhaenyra who leans back in her chair, glancing at Daemon.

“Are you on her side too?” Aegon asks, voice venomous.

“Of course not,” Aemond tells him.

“Steal my girlfriend, break up the band, things are going really well-”

Aegon is cut off as Aemond stands once more. Aegon slams his glass to the table, the glass shattering loudly under his palm. Cass screams, and blood begins to pool on the table.

“Eggy, you’ve cut yourself!” she cries, eyes wide with terror.

“Let’s fucking go! Right now!” Aegon yells, ignoring his injury and walking toward Aemond.

Daemon leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips at the show in front of him. Luke stands up and Aegon pushes by him, slamming him against the table. Rhaena yells and the dinner quickly turns into chaos.

Aemond slams his fist into Aegon’s chest as he approaches, causing him to fall backwards onto the table. Aegon punches his brother, blood from his hand leaving a streak on Aemond’s cheek. You push back in your chair, feel Alicent’s hands on your shoulders pulling you away from the brothers.

“You had enough? Huh?” Aemond growls, grabbing Aegon by the shirt.

“Fuck you!” Aegon spits directly in Aemond’s face.

Aemond growls, slamming him back on the table once more, fist reeling back.

“Let me go!” Aegon cries, as though they were small boys again tussling.

“Alright, alright enough!” Criston Cole comes between them, pulling Aemond away from Aegon.

“Fuck you!” Aegon yells, and Aemond wipes the blood on his cheek, “come on we’re leaving.”

Cass hurriedly stands, gathering her things. Alicent moves toward her eldest.

“Aegon,” she begs, but he brushes past her, Cass trailing behind.

The room is deathly silent now that the commotion has ceased, aside from the soft dripping noises from a spilled glass of wine. Daemon begins to chuckle to himself, before rising from his seat.

“Shall we?” he says, motioning for Rhaenyra.

“You’ve only just arrived,” Alicent says, her eyes sad.

“Thank you, for dinner truly,” Rhaenyra says, clasping Alicent’s hand in her own.

She turns to Jace and Luke.

“I’ll see you in the studio, tomorrow?” she asks, and the boys nod.

Aemond and Helaena stay silent, though they exchange a glance. Daeron has barely moved the entirety of dinner, eyes wide and cheeks red. Rhaenyra smiles as Daemon holds out her coat.

“Nice seeing you,” he murmurs to you as they walk past.

“You’re really recording with her?” you ask, eyes trained on Jace.

“It’s her song,” he says, meeting your gaze.

“Let’s get out of here,” Baela says, taking his hand, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Rhaena stands with Luke, not looking at you.

“Rhae-”

“Just don’t,” she says, shaking her head, “just…not tonight.”

Luke squeezes her on the shoulder and leads her from the room. You look toward Aemond, notice him flexing his hand.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” you say, taking his hand in yours.

“It’s fine,” he insists.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you tell him and though he pauses for a moment, he agrees nonetheless.

Helaena’s eyes are glassy, she’s standing with her gaze still fixed on the table.

“Oh my love,” Alicent says, moving toward her and embracing her.

Though not often fond of physical touch, Helaena leans into her mother’s embrace as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. Daeron reaches up from his seat, holding onto his sister’s hand. You lead Aemond up the stairs, meaning to search for one of the many bathrooms. He says nothing as you find one, sit him down and dig through the medicine cabinet. Aemond’s face is stoic as you clean the blood from his face, his hands.

You gently wrap gauze around his knuckles, before pulling him to stand. You’re worried for a moment he’s in some state of shock, his movements incredibly robotic as you walk down the hall. He stops suddenly, looking out a window, watching disappearing tail lights fade down the driveway and off in the distance.

“You know what my father said to me after the accident?” Aemond asked, facing the window.

You take a step closer to him, still giving him space. You’d never asked about it before, you’d barely heard the story at all. That’s what has him shaken up, not the fight. The talk about the accident. The talk about his eye.

“No,” you tell him.

“He said,” Aemond trails off for a moment, “tell me the truth of it.”

You look to the ground, goosebumps forming on your skin, a heaviness in your gut you cannot possibly ignore.

“Like it couldn’t possibly have happened the way I told him it did,” he continued, “like he didn’t believe a fucking word I said.”

You’re sick to your stomach, a tear rolls down your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes begin to well.

“We’re a family, he said. We have to stick together.”

“Aemond-”

“He didn’t even come to the fucking hospital,” Aemond keeps going, “he just waited at home.”

The thought turns your stomach.

“Of course when I want to stop playing, its a problem,” he goes on, “but when Rhaenyra left to go solo that’s fucking fine.”

The realization startles you.

“He made you keep playing.”

Aemond releases a bitter laugh, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on edge.

“Of course he fucking did,” Aemond tells you, shaking his head, “you think I wanted to keep playing with Luke after that?”

“Oh Aemond-”

“It was an accident,” Aemond says softly, “I know that now but…”

“You don’t have to-”

“No I want to tell you,” he continues, “my life fucking changed. Forever. And everyone just forgot about it.”

You’re standing right behind him now, and you place a hand on his back. His breathing is shallow, every breath seeming to catch in his throat.

“Mom wanted to press charges,” he tells you, “not like Viserys was going to let that happen.”

“I’m so sorry Aemond,” you told him, “you deserved justice, and I’m so sorry you didn’t get any.”

You can feel his every inhale with your hand before you slide it onto his waist, hugging him from behind. You hold onto him, letting him feel you against him. Letting him know you’re here for him. He leans into your touch, before turning to face you, burying his face in your haird. You keep your arms around him, pressing into his chest as his arms tighten around you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair.

Soft footsteps can be heard from down the hall, though you and Aemond do not break from your embrace.

“Aemond?” Alicent says, her hands fidgeting as though she doesn’t know what to do with them.

You pull away from Aemond’s chest, though he keeps his arms around you. Alicent smiles gently at you.

“It’s late,” Alicent says, “why don’t you both stay in one of the guest rooms tonight?”

You look up at Aemond, to let him decide. He nods.

“Thanks Mom,” he says and Alicent smiles.

“Of course,” she tells you both, before turning to leave.

“Thank you again, for everything,” you tell her, meaning it sincerely.

She brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek.

“Of course,” she tells you, and retreats down the hall.

“Will she talk to your dad?” you ask Aemond.

“No,” he tells you, “besides, they don’t sleep in the same room.”

Aemond takes your hand, leading you to the guest room. You’d never stayed there before. Sure, you’d been to a handful of Targaryen parties over the past years but Aegon never made it overnight. He hated spending the night in the same house as his father.

Aemond opens a door revealing a stylish room, with a king sized bed stuffed with pillows. It was basically a hotel, with robes hanging on the back of the door and chocolates on the pillows. From the walls hung different art pieces, mostly that of dragons. You’d remembered once when first meeting Viserys he had told you about the legends surrounding his family. You could apparently trace the Targaryen family name back to medieval times, where it was said they were dragonriders.

Alicent went all out. You pluck a chocolate up, unwrap it and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue.

“Nice,” you tell Aemond, who chuckles, laying on the bed.

He places a hand over his face, closing his eye. The drama of night has taken its toll. You sit on the bed, the mattress dipping as you do so. You lay down next to him, lacing your fingers together.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him.

“What?” he chuckles, removing his hand from his face.

“You heard me,” you say, leaning on your side using your elbow to prop yourself up.

He watches you curiously, before speaking.

“Blue,” he tells you, tapping at his sapphire.

“I should have guess-”

“Yeah you should have,” he says chuckling.

You stifle a laugh, face hitting the pillow. Aemond watches you laugh, smiling at you. As you lift your face you meet his gaze, narrowing your eyes.

“What?” you ask, though a smile comes through.

“Nothing,” he says, giving his head a slight shake.

You push yourself into a sitting position, the remainder of wine that tingles throughout your body giving you an extra boost of confidence.

“What is it?” you demand playfully.

“No, it’s nothing,” he insists.

You throw a leg over him, straddling his waist. He tilts his head back, lips parting as he watches you lace your fingers through his own.

“Tell meeee,” you sing-song, leaning into him.

Aemond keeps your body upright, his arms flexing.

“You’re just cute, that’s all,” he tells you.

You wrinkle your nose.

“Aemond Targaryen thinks I’m cute,” you tell him, nodding your head with every word you speak, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He chuckles underneath you and you raise your hips, adjusting your position. You feel a tingle of desire spark through you as you feel him growing harder underneath you.

“Mhmm,” he answers, unlacing his fingers from yours, letting your hands drop onto his chest.

He brings his hands to your hips, resting them there, rubbing smooth circles on the fabric of your dress. You tap your fingers against his chest, moving upwards, fiddling with the silver chain that lays against his throat.

“I think you’re beautiful,” you tell him, causing a shy smile to appear on his face.

“Do you?”

“I do,” you tell him, fingers ghosting across the scar on his cheek.

He turns his face toward your hand, kissing the pads of your fingers. Your lips part at the sweet action. Aemond is softer than you’d imagined, his sweetness steals the breath from your lungs.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he tells you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Aemond’s fingers dig into where your thighs meet your hips, rocking you against him slightly.

“And sexy,” he purrs, causing your face to flush.

“Aemond,” you say, a nervous giggle leaving you, before he flips you over onto your back.

He brings his lips to your neck, kissing the smooth flesh as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“I do,” he murmurs between kisses.

You sigh, contentedly as he continues to adore you.

“I find you incredibly seductive,” he whispers against you, “it's unfair, really.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you giggle, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to groan.

“Liar,” he says, bringing his mouth to kiss your lips, “you’re a temptress.”

You hum against his mouth, deepening the kiss as your tongue swipes his lower lip. His hand roams along the side of your body, bunching the fabric of your dress.

“Should we be doing this here?” you breathe as his hand strokes down your thigh and under your dress.

Aemond’s long fingers grip at the meat of your thigh as you turn your head to look at the door. His other hand grabs at your jaw, forcing your lips back toward him.

“What if your mom hears?” you whimper, as he kisses you harder.

Alicent’s room is not far, just down the hall. The enormous house is eerily quiet at night from the lack of residents. You’ve no idea where Daeron’s room is, but it cannot be far from the guest room either.

“You’ll just have to be quiet then,” he tells you, though it's said as a challenge.

Aemond moves off of you, dragging you towards the edge of the bed, a small yelp leaving your lips before you slap your hand over your mouth. Aemond kneels on the floor next to the bed, fingers wrapped around your calves. He quirked an eyebrow at the noise you made.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” he teases, reaching for your underwear, moving it down your legs.

“I’m sorry,” you say through a giggle.

“I told you to be quiet,” he says, eye darkening, “are you a good listener, Y/N?”

You nod, skin flushed with anticipation. He places a kiss to your thigh as he bunches your dress up toward your waist.

“Fuck,” he groans, staring at your pussy, “so wet for me already.”

You feel his mouth against your slick lower lips and bite your tongue to suppress a moan as he opens his mouth against you, pressing in. You can feel your thighs clenching, trembling at the feeling of his jaw opening and closing, mouth pulling you apart, tongue swirling against your sensitive clit. He’s truly eating you, he must be devouring you and all you can manage to think is how you need to remember every detail to tell Baela.

“I think I remember you liking this,” Aemond says, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

You choke back a moan, desperately trying to keep quiet.

“No?” Aemond says releasing your bud, “hmm maybe I was wrong.”

“What-,” you whimper in disappointment at the loss of contact.

“What?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss upon your inner thigh, “you don’t like my teasing?”

You whimper, head thrashing side to side, causing him to darkly chuckle.

“Then why do you make such pretty sounds when I do?”

You open your mouth to answer before feeling his fingers stretch through your entrance, and your head falls back onto the pillow with a pitiful noise leaving your bruised lips.

“I know you like this,” he purrs, curling his fingers, “where’s that spot, princess, here?”

He’s fucking with you, you know it. Crooking his fingers, lips barely brushing your clit, as tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes. He loves doing this, bringing you ever so close to the edge of pleasure.

“Here?” he asks again, “hmm I’m not sure I remember.”

“Aemond,” you whimper his name. Fuck he loves torturing you.

His teeth graze your clit, as his fingers locate the rough patch within your warm walls. Your spine bows, arching off of the bed.

“Oh here?” he asks, feigning innocence, “is this it pretty girl?”

“You know it is,” you nearly sob, “Fu-fuck!”

Aemond hums, curling his fingers and circling your clit with smooth, hot strokes of his tongue. You throw your hand over your mouth as you moan, trying as best as you can to stop the sound from echoing throughout the room.

“Getting a little loud, princess,” Aemond chastises, never stopping the come hither movement of his fingers, “someone might hear you.”

You bite down on your wrist, hard enough to draw blood. You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you, building steadily causing your legs to shake.

“Come on love, come for me,” he demands, burying his face back in your pussy, tongue fluttering around your sensitive clit.

“Fuck!” you yell as do exactly what Aemond tells you, clenching around his fingers.

He releases his fingers from your sopping heat, pulling you up to kiss him. You can feel his fingers unzipping your dress and you hastily shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow it, so you’re naked before him, clawing at the clothes he wears desperate to feel his skin against your own.

You hear a button ping to the floor as you tear open his shirt, earning a breathless chuckle from him. Aemond cups your face as you pull down his pants, freeing his erection. You pull away from his mouth.

“Lie on the bed,” you tell him.

He looks at you, clearly surprised at the shift in the power dynamic. He’s still in control ultimately, and you know that. Aemond surprises you, laying back on the bed, erection slapping against his stomach. You crawl on top of him as you did earlier, positioning his cock at your weeping entrance. You hesitate for only a moment, tilting your head.

Aemond’s violet eye is blown with lust, his lips parted in anticipation.

“Do you want me?” you ask, barely letting the tip of his member inside you.

“Yes,” he breathes, hands moving to your sides.

He doesn’t press your hips down, he leaves the control to you.

“How much?” you ask, sliding his head between your slick folds.

You watch a vein in his neck pulse, his jaw clench.

“Desperately,” he breathes, and you bite your lip.

You slide his tip through the lips of your pussy again letting it nudge your swollen clit sending a jolt of pleasure dancing up past your naval.

“Really?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he murmurs and you sink onto him, engulfing him in your tight, wet, heat.

Aemond’s moan matches yours as you let yourself settle with the stretch he gives you. You feel so deliciously full as you lift your hips, before sinking down once more. Aemond’s hands remain on your waist as you slowly roll your hips, riding him at a lazy pace. Your hands remain on his chest, nails gently digging into his pectoral muscles.

Aemond abandons his grip on your hips, pushing himself into a seated position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and bringing you with him, one arm securely around your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck, your forearms helping you keep your pace, bouncing continuously on his thick cock. He buries his face in your chest, mouth latching onto your nipple, a broken moan escaping you.

You feel his tongue swirling around the hardened peak, before you feel his teeth nipping at the skin of your breast, marking a path up to your neck. Your thighs burn and your pace slows as you try to push past the sweet ache in your legs and chase your release. Your whole body is flushed as Aemond brings his hands to your hips, helping slam you on his cock. Your head lolls onto his shoulder as he raises his hips, meeting your movements.

“My gorgeous girl, look at you,” he croons, “riding me so fucking well.”

He winds a hand behind your neck, supporting your head to look at him. Your head is so fuzzy with pleasure all you can do is whimper at the filthy words he speaks, cheeks burning a dark shade of maroon. Aemond gives you a lustful smile, ever so pleased with the effect he has on you, and the fact that he is the only one who can make you feel this way.

“Does that feel good?” Aemond asks, holding you tightly against him.

You nod desperately, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you so effortlessly almost too much to bear.

Your nails scratch down his chest, leaving scarlet streaks on his pale skin. Aemond releases a breathy groan, looking down at the marks before looking back up at you, lavender eye hooded with desire.

Aemond wraps his arms around you, twisting you onto your back. He slows his thrusts, brushing some hair from your face. Your breathing is ragged, and you’re pressed so close to him that you feel the steady rhythm of his heart matching your own.

“Look at me,” he says softly, and you meet his eyes.

His lashes flutter and you can feel your cheeks warming with the intensity between you. The butterflies that curl in your stomach as he presses into you.

You want to run. You can feel the tears prickling at your eyes and hate that you’re going to cry. You can’t help it, can’t stop the warm river that escapes your left eye, falling to the pillow below. You inhale a shaky breath, feel Aemond wipe the tear from the corner of your eye.

“Hey,” Aemond says softly, tearing you from your thoughts.

“I’m so scared,” you whisper.

You’re so fucking scared.

“Why are you scared, baby?” he asks quietly.

His hips have stopped moving, but he still rests inside of you keeping you comfortably full and connected.

“I really like you,” you tell him, “I really like you, Aemond.”

Aemond smiles, like he’s been waiting forever to hear you say that.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N,” Aemond tells you.

“How can you know that?” you ask, still teary eyed.

“I just do,” he promises, “I just…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence.

You lift your head connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss. You let yourself believe him, getting lost in the pleasure he gives you, and the promise he gives you. His hips ground against you, gently thrusting himself in and out.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whine against his lips.

“You have me,” he answers between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails are clawing at his back, desperately trying to get him closer. You wish in that moment you could curl up inside of him, keep yourself attached to him. You can feel your pleasure peaking, the wave within you beginning to crest. Aemond takes you over the edge with a final drive of his hips and you’re whimpering into his mouth, screwing your eyes shut in ecstasy.

He peppers your face with kisses, as his hips stutter with his own release. Each kiss burns away the tears that stain your cheeks, as he gently holds your face in his hands.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aemond tells you again, “not without you.”

note: I am soft for them 🥺

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