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#ch:. viserys targaryen

kentstoji · 3 months

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ㅤㅤCRYSTAL.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤparing. platonic hotd x reader. + male!oc x reader.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤsetting. house of the dragon. ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤtype. headcanons (tw. future yandere)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤthe battle of a woman was waged in her birthing bed, surrounded by blood and sweat. alicent hightower forced herself to accept this reality when her father officially made her a political pawn in an endless game of manipulations. the prize was the hightower blood immortalized in the twisted metal of swords forming the iron throne.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤaegon was an easy birth, without concerns. fragile helaena presented herself to the world silently, carrying a tranquility that would follow her later. and y/n was fire and blood —perfectly embodying the words of her house, her father's house.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤconsidered a jewel in the eyes of the court and engraved in the memory of popular imagination, y/n was the third child of the union between viserys targaryen and alicent of house hightower. she inherited her father's gentle and pacifistic nature, trying to cling to blood ties to avoid conflicts.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ(and when her mother whispered in her ear that helaena—or even she—would be the queen, the young girl looked away, coldly ignoring the treacherous poison. however, in her heart, she lacked the strength to stop loving her mother.)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤshe was often seen in the company of her siblings, helaena and daeron. despite loving and respecting her relatives equally, aegon made her feel disproportionately uncomfortable, and aemond easily left her aside, seeking acceptance from rhaenyra targaryen's children for not having a dragon.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"no, thank you!" y/n declined with a plastic smile when her mother suggested accompanying aegon to keep him in line. "i promised to help my sister, with little joffrey."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤand, as usual, she pretended not to feel the dissatisfaction emanating from the queen at the mention of the realm's delight.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤcriston cole made it his personal mission to escort the princess to the vicinity of princess rhaenyra's chambers. and she had to admit that he at least tried to conceal the growing disdain in his stern features. he even managed to control his cruel tongue, much to the young princess's relief. deep down, she was aware of the vision cole had crafted regarding her: immaculate, chaste, and flawless.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤthe maiden herself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤy/n's confidant, addam celtigar, chuckled upon hearing the youngest princess's account. his broad shoulders shook violently as whispers flowed through her lips, revealing an unpleasant revelation.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"and who will protect our little princess from criston cole?" addam inquired, not losing his characteristic good humor.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"you're terrible!" there were no courtesies or falsehoods between them. there never were.

#ch:. alicent hightower #ch:. viserys targaryen #ch:. aemond targaryen #ch:. aegon targaryen #ch:. rhaenyra targaryen #ch: criston cole #book:. aoiaf #a song of ice and fire #yandere game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon x reader #targaryen!reader #self indulgence hc.#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #platonic x reader #oc x reader #oc:. addam celtigar #addam celtigar x reader

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kingsroad · 2 years

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Dragonfire burns bright within all Targaryens.

Daenerys Targaryen in S01E04 of Game of Thrones / Viserys Targaryen in S01E04 of House of the Dragon.

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #asoiafedit #gotedit #hotdedit #gameofthronesdaily #targaryensource #hotdcentral #daenerys targaryen #viserys targaryen #type: gifs #show: house of the dragon #ch: daenerys targaryen #ch: viserys targaryen I #mine: edits

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stromuprisahat · 9 months

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Meanwhile, back in Westeros, Princess Rhaenyra had given birth to a second son late in the year 115 AC. The child was named Lucerys (Luke for short). Septon Eustace tells us that both Ser Laenor and Ser Harwin were at Rhaenyra’s bedside for his birth. Like his brother Jace, Luke had brown eyes and a healthy head of brown hair, rather than the silver-gilt hair of Targaryen princelings, but he was a large and lusty lad, and King Viserys was delighted with him when the child was presented at court. These feelings were not shared by his queen. “Do keep trying,” Queen Alicent told Ser Laenor. “Soon or late, you may get one who looks like you.” And the rivalry between the greens and blacks grew deeper, finally reaching the point where the queen and the princess could scarce suffer each other’s presence. Thereafter Queen Alicent kept to the Red Keep of King’s Landing, whilst the princess spent her days on Dragonstone with her champion, Ser Harwin Strong. Her husband, Ser Laenor, was said to visit “frequently”.

The Rogue Prince, or, A King’s Brother × Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

History and Greens just hate happy non-traditional family, don't they?

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janiedean · 2 years

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paddy was great but also can we say kudos to the make up team because I swear every episode i would be like how is viserys even walking around, he is definitely dying this episode - and then the next episode they would somehow manage to make him look even older and weaker?

and jfc when the camera panned to him at supper when he's just looking at his whole family i just 😭 he came so close to fixing the whole thing with just love 😭 poor guy would be heartbroken to see how the whole thing pans out after he dies.

oh absolutely this show has a killer makeup/costumes department way better than got had tbqh kudos to them because HONESTLY WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT MAKEUP WORK T_T that said paddy needs awards like what the hell was that performance I'm still mindblown

YEAH ANON SAME I was there thinking of everything that happens later and.... honestly... I REALLY HOPE THE AFTERLIFE IS NOT IN GRRM'S CANON HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AFTER T____T HE TRIED SO HARD I JUST T___T POOR MAN

#anonymous #ask post #house of the dragon spoilers for ts #ch: viserys i targaryen #a viserys i finally can stan

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afro-hispwriter · 2 years

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Letters(Aemond Targaryen)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary- Aemond and daemons daughter have been secretly seeing each other and sending letters and at the dinner aemond asks for her hand shocking everyone and making daemon furious.

Warnings- angst, daemon just trying to be a good dad;(

Request by anonymous

wc- 1.6k

When a crow landed on the stone of your window you jumped out of your bed. You took the wrapped letter off its claw and it flew off. You tore the ribbon off of it and opened the little paper.

My love,

I've received news that you will be coming to Kings Landing to sort out the issue with Driftmark. Words cannot begin to describe how excited i am to see you again.

From your lover,

You practically jumped up and squealed. It had been so long since you've seen any of your family that resided in Kings Landing. But of course you were more excited to see Aemond.

The carriage ride into Kingslanding was uneventful. There weren't people on the sidelines cheering for the arrival of the Blacks. They announced your arrivals, you didn't see Aemond anywhere. He said a long time ago in a letter saying he now wore an eyepatch. But you haven't caught sight of your eye patched cousin.

They advised you and your siblings to see ser Criston who was currently training on of the princes. You walked quickly to the yard.

"Slow down sister, no need to rush." Jace said with a sly smile. He was the only one who knew about Aemond. You scoffed at him but slowed down. You saw a crowd and heard swords clashing. As you got closer you day the wiping of white hair flying around. You pushed through people and some glared until they noticed your white hair and averted their eyes. The person fighting Ser Criston was tall, and moved swiftly. He blocked Cristons weapon and moved around to a crouch letting you take notice who it was.

Eye Patch. Aemond.

He looked over the crowd until his eyes fell upon you. But he turned his attention back to Cristion and decided it was time to stop playing around. It quick ease Aemond disarmed Criston, still holding his

"Well done Aemond, you'll be winning Tournaments in no time." Said Criston and Aemond scoffs.

"I dont give a shit about tourneys. Nephews. Cousin. Have you come to train?" He asks and sets down his sword. He turns to you and your stepbrothers but his eyes stayed on you. Jace looked shocked and immediately shook his head.

"Only if you will be the one doing the training." You say and raise an eyebrow at him and he smirked.

"It depends." He said and sheathes his sword and starts stepping towards you. "Are you up for the hard work?" He stopped in front of you and leaned down so your faces were close together. "Because I guarantee you, you will be hot and sweaty in the end along with pain... in so many parts of your body." He whispered the last part in your ear and you shuddered. "I missed you."

He didn't let you respond before he left you there, flustered and wanting. Jace and Luke looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Im not sure Daemon would like what we just saw." Said Luke and you roll your eyes and shove him playfully.

Viserys requested the family have dinner together and you didn't know if you were dreading it or looking for to it. The Greens were already at the table waiting foe the Blacks. You sat on the end of the table next to your father with Baela and at the other end sat Aemond. A maid came and filled your cup with wine and you picked it up and looked at Aemond. He raised his towards you and brought the cup up to his lips. You did the same but smiled behind your cup.

This action didn’t go unnoticed by Rhaenerya, she smiled slightly at seeing her stepdaughter and half-brother interact.

Dinner was served, Alicent gave a prayer and after that. Everything went well. Everyone talked like nothing ever happened, they laughed with each other. Alicent and Rhaenerya actually struck up a conversation. Aemond wasn’t saying anything just continued eating and drinking, but he kept glancing at you at any given chance. Eventually he stopped eating and just stared at you. You felt his stare and looked up to him. He cocked his head to the side with a sly smile, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but there was amusement placed on your face.

“What?” You mouthed but he didn’t do anything. Your father noticed who you were talking to and took notice to your face, he nudged your foot with his, bringing your attention back. Aemond drowned the rest if his wine and suddenly stood up, making all conversations stop and look up at him.

“I have something to say, well more ask my dear Uncle.” He says and Daemon leans back in his chair and squints his eyes. You look at Aemond in confusion, not knowing what he needed to ask your father. “For the last few months I’ve been sending letters to your oldest daughter, your beautiful Y/n.” Your eyes widened.

“Aemond.” You say and Daemon looks at you with now wide eyes.

“I’ve developed a love for her.” Aemond stopped right behind Daemon and Daemon couldn’t look at him just tightening his jaw. “So I want to ask for her hand in marriage.” Everyone stayed quiet and waited for Daemon to react but Viserys answered first.

“I think thats a mighty fine idea.” He said and coughed. “It would surely help secure our bloodline more, and as well help end this feud before it grows into something bigger.” Still nobody said anything but you watched Daemon grip his knife.

“Father-.” But you were to late to stop him. He had Aemond on the ground with a knife to his neck.

“How dare you ask for my daughter’s hand? Do you think I haven’t heard the rumors? Why would I put my daughter in danger?” Aemond gulped and licked his lips.

“I would never hurt your daughter, I wouldn’t dream it.”

“Daemon.” He heard Rhaenerya’s soft voice behind him and a hand on his shoulder. He slowly pulled back and stood up, you ran to Aemond side and bent down next to him, Alicent appearing as well.

“Are you ok?” You ask him and inspect his neck. He nods and waves you off. You then look up at your father to see Rhaenerya calming him down. You stood up and angrily walked to him. “Why does everything have to be violence with you? Why cant you just talk like a normal human being!? Why cant you be happy that I found someone I love?” You sped off after that leaving everyone in shock.

Aemond stood up and tried to follow you but Daemon stopped him.

“No. I’ll talk to her.” He said and nodded to Rhaenerya who nodded back and gave him a smile. He went of to go find and comfort his child.

He knew exactly where you were. When you lived in Kings Landing you always spent your free time in the gardens. He heard sniffles coming from the direction of the fountain.

He saw his daughter hunched over with a flower in her hands.

“Y/n.” He says and you whipped your head around to your father.

“Why are you here?” You ask and wipe you eye. Daemon sits down next to you.

“Im sorry, for what I did.” He says and you look at him in shock. “Sorry for how I reacted, you’re right i shouldn’t have handled it that way.” He placed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. “I will give my nephew my blessing to marry you.” You raised your head to him with an open mouth.

“You’re serious?” You ask and he nods. You stand up and smile brightly down at him. “Thank you.” You bent down and kissed his cheek before running off but before you could get far his fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back.

“Just know, if he hurts you, trust that no one will be able save him.” He says and his face goes back to seriousness.

“You wont regret it father.” You ran inside the castle, running through the halls. You saw Alicent walking quickly down the hall. “Queen Alicent!” They turned around and immediate concern flashed on their faces.

“Child whats wrong?” Asks Alicnet and places her hands on your shoulders.

“Wheres Aemond?” You say out of breath and she cocked her head to the side.

“Training outside.”

“Thank you.” You say and run outside to the training area. You heard grunting and loud sounds of wood getting hit. You saw Aemond whipping around flawlessly. “AEMOND!” He turned around at the scream of his name.

“Y/n?” You jumped into him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“He said yes, he’s going to give you his blessing to marry me.” You say and and pull back. And for the first time in a long time Aemond smiled, this time with love. He dropped his sword and grabbed your face and slammed his lips down on yours. You both closed your eyes, melting into the kiss. He opened his eyes for a split second to check his surroundings and saw Daemon, standing by the entrance with his hands in front of him, smiling that his daughter found love.

The following week you were marrying Aemond in the traditional Old Velaryon way. Cutting your lips with dragon glass, followed by your hands and held them together, then wiping a stray of blood on each others foreheads. A kiss was shared, your bloods mixing in your mouths, signifying the security of another bloodline and also one of the few marriages done for love.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

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sapphire-writes · 10 months

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Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: Aegon and you spend the holidays together. Spring semester comes quickly and tensions rise between the team.

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+ (detailed warning below the cut)

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 10: Confessions ~ next chapter

warnings: language, explicit p in v, mommy kink, oral (m-receiving), praising, slight edging/overstimulation, titty sucking, physical fighting, descriptions of blood

word count: 4.2k

note: hope you enjoy this chapter! thanks for all the love! one chapter left after this for my babies 🥹

dividers by @firefly-graphics

The tension between you and Helaena was short-lived after everything went down at the funeral. The days after the funeral were quiet, until Helaena and you talked for a long time. You told her everything. How it started with the deal and turned into something more. Helaena listened carefully, her violet eyes never leaving you.

“You know I’ll kill him, right?” she’d told you, her pretty face deadly serious, “Castrate him, chop him up into little pieces, get some Carrion Beetles-”

“Hel I know,” you’d told her with a laugh, “Wait, what are Carrion Beetles?”

“They eat the decomposing flesh of-”

“You know what!” you said, cutting her off, “I get it. But seriously, Hel,” you take her hand in yours, “Nothing would make me not be your friend anymore. Even if Aegon and I don’t work out.”

“I know,” she said in a soft voice, “I just get so scared, you know?”

“Yeah, I understand,” you told her, “And I should have been honest with you from the beginning. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

“It’s okay,” she’d said, pulling you into a hug, “You know I love you, right? You’re my girl.”

You held onto Helaena tightly, happy tears filling your eyes, “I love you so much Hel.”

The next few weeks go by in a wonderful blur.

After Viserys’ funeral, you returned to campus for the whirlwind of finals. Aegon had passed philosophy, receiving a B- on his final. He’d stared at his phone in disbelief as the grade appeared as you’d jumped for joy. Then, like every year, you packed up a couple of bags preparing to say goodbye to KLU for the next month. Sara was always a wreck during this time, insisting you Facetime every day.

Only this winter, you join the Targaryen family again at their winter home up north. You’d gone with them last year, only for a couple of weeks, as Helaena’s plus one. This time, you were the guest of a different Targaryen.

The Targaryens were avid skiers, Aemond especially. Though you prefer the comfort of their extravagant cabin, nestled beneath several blankets with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a good book. It was a dream come true, spending winter break with your boyfriend, and your best friend.

Well….boyfriend?

You and Aegon hadn’t really talked about it since before the funeral. You knew you were only seeing each other, and you knew the feelings you had for him that were only getting stronger with each passing day. But you hadn’t exactly defined the relationship.

Winter break was winding down, and a new semester looming with the new year. You didn’t feel eager to leave your comfortable, cozy bubble in the mountains.

“Have you been having fun?” Aegon asks, letting you snuggle against his chest. He places a kiss on top of your head as you watch the flames flicker in the fireplace.

It’s late, everyone is in bed, but you and Aegon have been confined to the couch in the living room for most of the night. The living room is spectacular, open with high ceilings with exposed beams. When you’re upstairs, you can lean over the balcony, looking down onto the living room and kitchen.

The house is quiet except for the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. You’d been watching holiday movies all afternoon with Daeron and Helaena; even Aemond had stopped in to watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. But as the night grew later, everyone headed to their respective rooms.

“Mhmm,” you answer, snuggling closer.

His shirt is so soft and smells like the new cologne Alicent had bought him for Christmas. You’d nearly jumped him the moment he’d applied some.

“Good,” Aegon murmurs into your hair, “I wish we could just stay here.”

“Me too,” you tell him, “Maybe we can hide in the hot tub.”

“Mmm and hope they forget us?” Aegon asks. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Exactly.”

“Unlikely, unfortunately,” Aegon says, causing you to sigh dramatically, “Aww, I’m sorry bunny.” He wraps his arms around you, squishing you closer to him.

You make a noise of contentment as you press closer to him. You can’t help but feel light-headed, with how warm he is and the enticing scent of his cologne. You’re definitely still in the honeymoon stage, you can’t seem to get enough of him. You glance up at him, looking through your lashes.

“What is it, pretty girl?” he asks, tapping your nose, “That face means you want something.”

You can’t help but grin. He knows you. You sit up, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace, bringing your hand to rest on his thigh. You can feel the muscle flex as you rub up and down. He’s got strong legs, Aegon Targaryen. You suppose he has to, being on the ice all the time.

“Can I….” you trail off, still rubbing his thigh, feeling the softness of his plaid pajama pants.

Aegon raises an eyebrow, eyes falling to your hand.

“Can you….what?” Aegon asks, mouth forming a smile as he finishes his sentence.

You can feel your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and want. You know he knows, he just wants to hear you say it. Aegon loves hearing you say filthy things.

“Let me suck your cock, baby,” you murmur, leaning forward to bury your face in the side of his neck, kissing the smooth skin, “Can I, please?”

“Fuck,” Aegon manages to choke out, “Shit, of course, you can.”

You release a satisfied hum, nipping at his neck before pushing yourself up off the sofa. Aegon hurriedly moves the blankets off of his lap, eyes nervously glancing upwards. You smirk up at him playfully.

“Nervous?” you ask, digging your nails into his thigh.

“Dirty girl,” Aegon slightly scolds, smiling down at you, “What if someone wakes up?”

“We better be quick then,” you tell him.

You bring your hands to his hips as he lifts them, letting you tug down his pajama pants and underwear freeing his thick cock. It slaps against his stomach, standing at desperate attention; the tip flushed pink and weeping, begging to be touched.

You stroke his thighs again, taking time to admire his dick, the way it curves upwards slightly, the blue veins threading their way up the underside. Pretty cock for a pretty boy.

“You just gonna stare at it?” Aegon teases, his voice nearing a whine.

You flick an eyebrow up at him. He’s teasing, but you know it's a facade. He’s as desperate for you as you are for him.

“You’ll take what I give you,” you tell him, anticipation curling in your belly.

“Oh yeah?” Aegon says, leaning forward to brush some hair from your face.

You nuzzle against his hand momentarily, before leaning forward to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, suckling lightly. Aegon hisses, a whine leaving his lips as you swipe your tongue across the slit, lapping away at the salty liquid that beaded there.

“Shhhh baby,” you murmur, barely taking your lips off his cock.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes as you take more of him into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks letting him sink deeper into your mouth and down your throat. Your heart beats furiously in your chest as your lungs panic momentarily before you remember to breathe through your nose and open your eyes to gaze up at Aegon.

His jaw is slack, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His hand fists your hair, tugging just enough that delicious pinpricks of pain dance across your scalp. Aegon’s eyes flutter open as you remove him completely from your mouth, before licking up the underside of his shaft and engulfing him yet again.

“Jesus Christ,” Aegon moans, thighs tensing as you deepthroat him. He’s struggling to keep his voice down, as another moan escapes him.

You bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you do so, turning your mouth into a vacuum around his length. Saliva pools in your mouth and you break away from him with a gasp, spittle coating your lips and dripping down your chin.

“My messy, pretty girl,” Aegon purrs, as you bring a hand to his shaft, stroking him as you begin to mouth at his balls, “Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

You bring your attention back to his cock, an ache beginning to form between your legs causing you to clench your thighs together for some kind of friction. You move your head around him with intense purpose. You need to make him feel good, need to make him cum down your throat. You can feel him shaking below you, inching closer and closer toward his orgasm.

“Fuck..mommy,” he whimpers suddenly, and you freeze.

You release him with a pop, a trail of saliva still connecting you to the head of his cock. Aegon’s eyes widen as your lips form a lazy smile.

“What was that, baby?” you ask, stroking his length with your hand.

Aegon’s cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and he drops his violet eyes away from your gaze. He’s silent a moment before wetting his lips.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, “Let’s just-”

“No,” you tell him, squeezing his length gently, “We’ll continue when you say it again.”

Aegon’s jaw slacks, his lavender eyes wide. You’re not letting him get away with that so easily. Not when what he said made your clit throb intensely. You can feel yourself growing wetter, thighs sticking together.

“Wh-What?” he asks softly, causing a rush of desire to wash over you.

“Say it again,” you encourage, “C’mon be a good boy.”

You lazily stroke his cock, the movement effortless with how lubricated it is with your saliva.

“Oh fuck, oh shit-” Aegon says, eyes squeezing shut.

You release your grip, stopping the pumping motion of your hand. Aegon whines in disappointment, eyes fluttering open. His mouth drops open in shock, his violet eyes are glassy with needy tears.

“Baby,” he whines, chest heaving with each inhale.

“Say it,” you encourage, bringing your lips to rest on the head of his cock. You wrap your fingers around his cock once more, tapping it against your puckered lips, “C’mon Egg.”

Aegon whimpers as you say it, sucking his lower lip between his teeth.

“Fuck, Mommy please,” he whimpers, dick twitching in your hand.

Desire burns through your veins like liquid fire hearing him say that to you, watching his lower lip tremble with the whines he lets spill free. You only hope you’re being quiet enough that no one upstairs hears.

“Good boy,” you praise him, taking him into your mouth once more.

You bob your head up and down, rewarding him for his good behavior. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you, having Aegon in the palm of your hand like this. He always seems to be the more dominant one in bed, but here on your knees in front of him, he’s at your mercy.

“Mommy, please,” he whines again, voice breaking, “Gonna cum for you.”

You hum in appreciation, popping off for a moment, stroking him with your slippery, wet hand. You bring your other hand to his balls, fondling them gently.

“I want your cum, baby, Mommy needs it,” you tell him, your voice practically a purr as you engulf him in your mouth again.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, and you feel his cock twitch, feel his warm cum paint the back of your throat as he finishes with a moan.

You keep going, keep moving your mouth around him until every drop has been drained and Aegon is a whimpering, begging mess.

“Please, Mommy, it's too much, please, please!” he whimpers as you finally release him.

You bite your lip, looking up at him as he struggles to regain his breathing. His lavender eyes are blown with lust, and he smiles down at you before grasping your elbows and dragging you up towards him. Aegon captures your lips in a heated kiss, moaning as you eagerly slip your tongue into his mouth.

You break away, only to slip off your own pajama pants before moving to sit on his lap. You straddle his waist, grinding against his lap, feeling him growing hard once more underneath you. It’s impressive, truly.

“Let me make you feel good, Mommy,” he groans, hands firmly planted on your ass and squeezing harshly.

You gasp against his mouth, and he drags his lips down your jaw to the column of your throat, leaving wet kisses in his wake. Aegon brings one of his hands in between you, looping through the lace of your panties and pulling them to the side. You raise your hips before sinking down on top of him, the stretch not failing to take your breath away.

You stay like that for a moment, lips barely touching, the fire crackling behind you. Faintly, you hear the creaking of footsteps upstairs, the opening and shutting of someone’s closet door. You and Aegon lock eyes for a moment, before dissolving into nervous giggles.

You roll your hips, connecting your lips to his once more, kissing him slowly. Aegon brings his hands to your waist again, aiding you with your bouncing on his thick cock.

“You’re doing such a good job,” you whisper into his mouth. Aegon eats your praise like he’s starved for it, kissing your neck, and your jaw, trailing down between your breasts, “Making Mommy feel so good, baby.”

Aegon whimpers at your words, tugging your shirt out of the way and bringing his hot mouth to your pebbled nipple. His free hand digs into your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Yeah?” he moans, looking up at you as he continues to suckle on your nipple.

“Yes baby,” you assure him, running your fingers through his hair, “Oh fuck, Aegon.”

The pleasure is building in your abdomen with every roll of your hips, every flick of his tongue on your nipple. When Aegon brings his hand between you to rub circles around your clit, your head falls to his shoulder. White hot pleasure tingles everywhere, from the top of your head down to your toes. Your nails scrape against his scalp and then you’re shuddering on top of him, pussy clenching around his thick cock as you soak his cock.

“Fuck,” Aegon hisses, as your clenching sends him into his second release, “Oh fuuuck.”

Aegon releases your breast, kissing his way back to your mouth. You roll your hips experimentally with his ever-softening cock still sheathed within you, causing him to let out a sharp groan.

“M’senstitive baby,” he mutters, against your lips. Teasingly, you roll your hips again, causing him to not-so-gently bite down on your lower lip.

“Ouch!” you hiss, slapping his chest lightly.

Aegon laughs softly, gazing at you as you brush some pieces of hair from his forehead. You notice him staring and pout, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What?” you ask, eyes narrowing.

“You’re just beautiful, that’s all,” Aegon says with a slight shrug.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” he says, smiling thoughtfully, “You know I had a thing for you last year.”

Your heart picks up speed once more. Aegon always seems to have that effect on you.

“What?” you ask, not really believing him.

“It’s true,” he assures you, “When you came on the trip last year. I kept thinking about visiting your room. Joining you in the hot tub.”

“Why didn’t you?” you ask, though you already know.

Aegon doesn’t answer. You were seeing Jason then too, which wouldn’t have been pretty.

“Timing wasn’t right,” Aegon says with a grin, “And timing is everything.”

You smile at him. He’s right. Everything ended up the way it was supposed to.

“Speaking of timing, we should probably get dressed if we don’t want someone to walk in on me seated on your cock,” you tell him, and Aegon feigns a gasp.

“I mean, I’m into exhibitionism if you’re up for it-” You slam your hand over his mouth before he can finish, but you know he’s smiling from the crinkling of his eyes.

“You’re a bad boy,” you whisper, slowly letting your hand drop.

“No no no, you said I was good,” he insists, kissing your lips.

Reluctantly, you move away from him, pulling your panties back into place and putting your pants on. Aegon does the same as you glance out the window.

“Egg look!” you gasp, walking over to the sliding glass door.

Large snowflakes have begun to fall, and a thin coating of white blankets the ground outside. The stars are bright, the moonlight shining through the trees and bathing the world in silver. You always liked winter for that reason; the stars seem brighter when it's below freezing. You press your hand to the frosty glass of the door, suppressing a shiver.

Aegon joins behind you, putting his hand on top of yours, and pressing his back against you until your breasts are pressed against the glass. Your nipples harden at the cold sensation and you let out a breathy gasp.

“We can have a quickie right here,” he teases, kissing your neck. You smile, unable to stop yourself.

“Against the door?” you ask, eyebrows raised, arching your back.

“Temperature play,” he sing-songs and you shake your head.

“Time for bed,” you tell him, taking his hand and leading him toward the stairs.

With the start of the spring semester came the first hockey scrimmage. Sara, now officially Jace’s girlfriend, was making it her permanent mission to be at every game the Knights had. Scrimmages, practices, the whole deal. Of course, you’re more than happy to tag along, especially now that you and Aegon are public.

“I mean, Cregan’s a nice guy,” Sara says with a shrug, “I’m sure they talked it out.”

Now that everyone knew you and Aegon were a thing, life was so much less stressful. Except when it came to Cregan. You’d watched them warm up together on the ice, sensing the tension from the stands. Though you admit, you were a little distracted watching Aegon do those damn hockey stretches where he’s basically thrusting against the ice. He even glanced up at you, flashing a smile as he did them.

This guy.

Your gaze drifts back to the rink, watching as the King’s Landing Knights retake the ice. The team does a lap around, and your eyes immediately find Aegon. As the team forms their positions, you look over to Cregan who stands in the net, his eyes locked on Aegon.

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah they totally are fine.”

“Sure,” Baela says, looking at Cregan as well, “There’s no tension or anything.”

“Oh jeez,” Rhaena says, biting her lip.

“What?” you ask, hoping you’re just being paranoid.

Baela and Rhaena exchange nervous glances.

“Nothing!” they say in unison.

Something is definitely off on the ice. With the team in general. Aegon’s pissed; you can tell by the way he’s shouting at everyone, teammates and opponents alike. Cregan’s pissed as well, calling out plays from his spot in the goal, calling time-outs, and nearly spending time in the penalty box for roughness with another player.

“This blows,” Sara says with a sigh. The Knights are down considerably, it's clear they’re going to lose this game. Even if it's just a scrimmage, it doesn’t go well for the beginning of this half of the season.

Two minutes are left on the clock and you’re feeling anxious about the game ending. You’re watching the clock when Aegon skates over, calling Cregan in the net. You can’t tell what he said, but something lights up in Cregan’s eyes.

As Aegon skates around the other side, Cregan throws his stick to the ice.

“Oh shit-” you breathe, as Cregan slams into Aegon’s back.

Aegon’s taken by surprise, falling forward, stick flying out of his grasp. In a second, he’s back on his feet, slamming himself into Cregan, the both of them crashing into the plexiglass wall. The referees are blowing their whistles like crazy, and other members of the team are pulling them apart. Aegon rips off his helmet, chucking it at Cregan from across the ice.

Cregan smacks it out of the way, breaking out of Jace’s grip and punching Aegon in the face. You see the splatter of blood paint the ice red, and hear Aegon’s laugh as he spits a wad of blood and saliva before rubbing his nose with his gloved hand. Reese Bolton has his arm around Aegon, holding him tightly as he struggles to get Cregan. Reese is a bigger guy than Egg, he holds him with ease, seemingly not caring about the blood that runs from Aegon’s face onto his arm.

Aegon and Cregan are hauled off the ice and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you.

“Holy,” Sara says, mouth hanging open.

“Fuck,” Rhaena and Baela say in unison once more.

“Thank you, Shining twins,” you grumble. You’d always refer to Baela and Rhaena as that whenever they say things at the same time. It’s a twin thing, they always argue.

“Coach is gonna murder them,” Sara says with a nod, “Damn. Jace looked so hot holding Cregan back.”

“Jesus Christ,” Baela groans, “Can you focus for one second, please?”

“It’s okay,” you assure Baela, “I just hope Egg’s okay, Cregan got him pretty good.”

“Egg loves a fight,” Rhaena tells you, “Did you see him laughing? Cregan just made his whole day.”

“I don’t know,” you say with a shake of your head.

They call the game, everyone leaves the ice in a somber mood. You wait for a while on the bleachers as the team exits the locker rooms heading out for the night. You wait with Sara as Baela and Rhaena head to Late Night, the local diner on campus to grab some food. Sara runs down the bleachers to Jace as he emerges, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Jace meets your eyes over her shoulder.

“Egg’s meeting with Coach, but he should be done soon. If you want to wait for him,” he tells you.

“Thanks, Jace,” you say with a smile.

“You sure you’re okay to wait? We can stay,” Sara tells you and you shake your head.

“Go meet Bae and Rhae, I’m good, I’ll catch up,” you tell her with a smile.

You walk down the hallway toward the locker rooms to find Aegon, running into Cregan as he leaves. You stop awkwardly, as he raises his gaze from the floor noticing you. He scoffs, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Egg’s in there,” he tells you.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

Cregan is silent for a moment, brown eyes softening.

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah I guess I just lost my cool for a second.”

You don’t know what to say, you just give him a nod.

“We’ve talked,” Cregan tells you, “Coach kind of insisted.”

“I’m glad,” you tell him, “I really didn’t mean to hurt you, Cregan. And I'm so sorry that I did.”

Cregan nods and continues down the hallway, brushing past you. You stand still for a moment, biting your lip, before turning.

“Hey!” you call.

He stops turning slightly at the sound of your voice.

“Are we…are we okay?” you ask him, unable to keep the hopeful tone from your voice.

Cregan sighs, his eyes tired.

“Yeah,” he finally says, “Yeah, we’re good Y/N.”

A weight lifts from your chest at his words. You don’t think you and Cregan will be friends, but being okay with each other feels better than nothing. He and Aegon are teammates after all.

Aegon.

Cregan continues down the hallway, leaving the rink and you let him go. You begin walking once more, entering the men’s locker room. It’s empty and quiet, the dripping of the showers the only sound.

“Egg?” you call, moving into the locker room.

You find him seated, freshly showered, lacing his sneakers. His hockey bag is next to him, stuffed with his pads and jersey. He tilts his head up to look at you, smiling that signature sideways grin of his.

There’s already bruising around his eyes from the force of Cregan’s punch but thankfully it looks like he didn’t break his nose. You walk over to him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face, “You are okay, right?”

“Nose still straight, teeth still here,” he assures you, placing his hand over yours.

“What happened out there?” you ask, curious about what started the fight.

Aegon shakes his head, droplets of water tickling your hand.

“Just told him to stop being a prick and guard the fucking goal,” Aegon tells you, “Set him off I guess. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

“Don’t be,” he says with a pout, “You’re worth every punch.”

You smile, stroking his cheek.

“I’m glad your face is okay,” you tell him.

“Would you still like me if I’m missing a few teeth?” he jokes, smiling up at you.

“I’d love you regardless,” you answer, eyes widening at the realization of what you’ve said.

Aegon is silent for a moment, just gazing up at you in wonder, as though he can’t believe you’re really here with him. You’re mumbling through an embarrassed apology when he stands, cupping your cheeks with both hands and connecting your lips. He kisses you softly for a moment and everything you were thinking before fizzles out of your head.

Until all that’s left is him.

He pulls away, smiling.

“I love you too, bunny.”

note: hope you enjoyed!! ONE CHAPTER LEFT!! WOOOOO!!!

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the-common-cowgirl · 29 days

Text

Chapter 1 - Intro

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Anikyra Targaryen)

Summary: The Peaceful King Viserys hears word of a Targaryen Princess that resides in the broken stronghold of Valyria; which has since become an immature kingdom after of the doom befell their land. Feeling the tension between his house and believing the long night may soon come, Viserys proposes a betrothal between the Valyrian Princess and his second son, Aemond Targaryen, believing his daughter’s prophetic dream that the child born of this union will become the prince that was promised.

Warnings (Ch. specific): Mentions of murder and usurpation.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: AHA! First chapter of this rework done! Probably going to work on finishing The Lost Children after this unless this gets a lot of attention lol.

Masterlist

Dawn awakened over the vast land that once was the great stronghold of Valyria; now an emerging kingdom over the broken land. The red, hot sun greeted her on the east side of her balcony and the beautiful, bright rays danced along the pale, blue water of the sea that faced her to the south. The large, shiny, black castle, mounted on the side of a great mount of stone and soot, stood tall above the city. She could see the hustle of morning coming and goings of the smallfolk below her who now resembled crawling ants. She often sat high above them on warm dawns with her tea, wondering if, although their lives were harsh and rough, were they simpler? Were those people below her free in the choices they made or were they too, confined to a blind duty born of their station? Did they have autonomy over their beating hearts or were they too a prisoner in their own personal hell?

She doubted it.

She heard a door open in the distance behind her and knew her handmaiden was coming to ready her; she also knew the handmaiden would be bearing news in which she dreaded. News of the scheming of the King of Valyria and another King of a distant land. News that would be comparable to news of her own execution; at least, in her mind. She did not want to hear it but she knew it would come regardless of her wishes. So, she decided to muster up her courage, to take her cup with now cool tea and walk into her bedchambers to hear if this was the news her handmaiden would be bearing.

“Princess, a messenger has sent word that the Targaryens of Westeros have embarked on their journey here.”

The ‘False Targaryens’ you mean.

She all but slammed her cup on a table, nearly breaking the fragile porcelain, angered by the audacity of these Westerosi to come here and believe they have any sort of claim to what was once their homeland. A homeland they were exiled from when Aenar defiled the name “Targaryen '' by gambling his riches awash then trying to make good on his debts by stealing his elder brother’s, Aelys Targaryen, dragon eggs. Aelys should have not only exiled him, but executed him. No, her ancestor, Aelys, allowed his brother to be exiled comfortably with his family, a dragon and a handful of eggs. After the doom befell Valyria, all the dragons fell from the sky, burning from the outside in, and Aelys’ only daughter requested help from the Westerosi. She asked for Aenar to bring his dragons and help what remained of the dragonlords escape the wrecked ruins of what was their home. Aenar responded with a simple “Nyke ivestragon Aelys hen bisa vejes” [I tell Aelys of this doom]. So, desperate for help and to save the remains of her people, she took it upon herself as the last highborn blood of the dragonlords alive, she turned to head to Asshai…and the Taragryens rose from the ashes…without the help of the last of their kin.

“Princess?” Her handmaiden approached lightly and slowly; holding out her hand as if she were approaching a deadly beast that needed to sniff her first to know she’s not a threat.

“Yes, Tiah. I understand the words you spoke. I know they are coming. I’d be more content today if you chose to not speak of it. Is that understood?” She snapped with an edge to her voice she wasn’t intending upon. Realizing she was staring harshly toward her handmaiden, she softened her stance slightly and turned away to hide the outburst; lip twitching with residual anger.

Tiah, she thought, only a year older than I but such a meek and foolish girl still.

Her handmaiden took two steps back briskly. She held her head down and hands clasped behind her back. “Yes, your Grace. I will not speak further about them.” Like an obedient dog.

The Princess, overcome with emotion of anger she did not want to process nor dim, yet also, feeling the need to apologize to her poor handmaiden who was only doing her duty in informing Princess of the updates that the walls of the castle echoed, decided to walk out to the balcony again instead of apologizing for her misdirected anger.

Tiah is not the enemy here. Keep your head clear. Breathe.

After some time, the Princess decided to walk back into her bedchambers yet again, call upon her handmaiden, and ask for help dressing in a gown. She did not care which gown her handmaiden decided to pick, as long as it was light in this warming daylight and allowed her to breathe unrestrictedly. The day was hot and will grow hotter as the sun crawls higher into the sky. Tiah picked a thin silken gown that would allow her to stroll the castle on this day of summer without becoming faint. Emerald green silk with gold filigree embroidered on the sleeves and either side of her torso. It showed off a hint of her collarbone and she decided that it was an acceptable amount of skin to show to court. The Princess’ left hand slid along her exposed collarbone. Slender fingers caressing her soft skin.

I will not become some broodmare for a false dragon. She reminded herself in the mirror. I am the true daughter of Valyria. The last true dragon of Valyria and I will not let the false Targaryens of Westeros feast upon my body with their eyes. I will not bend, nor will I break.

She thought of her mother and how she did not bend, nor break to her father’s whims. The beautiful “Light of Valyria” remained gentle but firm in her hold of power. How her mother loved her father deeply but it was her who sat the throne. How her father helped raise Valyria from the ruins and strengthened their fledgling kingdom, his duty born purely out of the love he held for her mother. Despite all of their love, duty, and power, they only produced a single child. One daughter.

Naturally, being the “First Child of Valyria,” she would be the heir uncontended; free to marry whomever she wanted, regardless of status or power. If only the natural order of things were so easy to abide by.

The day they revolted against her father, the King Consort, she had viewed her mother’s face for the first time for who she truly was: a monster. Only a monster would sentence their true love to death. Only a monster would marry the man who usurped her father’s place and allow him to stand beside her throne as her new King Consort. Only a monster would lie with the man who murdered her only child’s father and only a monster would give birth to the most precious being in this world.

Her younger sister. Only four years younger but still so very wise and kind. The only person in this world whom Anikyra has ever had to love and cherish. The only one who had ever claimed to love her and didn’t abandon her for the sweet taste of death. The young Princess Scilia was the very image of their mother. Pale hair, purple eyes, touched by the dawn and the light above. She always wore light colors as well; an homage to her mother. The elder sister sometimes even thought that Scilia was the Sun itself; especially when times were dark and cruel. Many referred to the young Princess as “The Light Princess.”

Those very people had a similar name for the elder Princess. A name she did not care to refute as she knew the truth in it. When she was born, in the month of the Sapphire, her father was so happy his child would carry a reminder of him, regardless how small. The midwives called it “touch of dark.” Her mother called it “soul of the dragon.” But the people of the great castle called her “The Dark Princess,” for the small patch of black hair on the right side of her head, intertwined in her long, thick silver locks.

Those names, those whispers as she walked the slick, black floors of the castle, they gave life to the fire burning within her. Gave life to the rage she felt. Gave life and all that is unholy to the plan she had laid before herself once she heard the news, fourteen years ago, that her mother had been taken out of the castle a month after the birth of the Usurper King’s first child, the child that sealed his place on the throne, and executed in secret by the that very man. By the Usurper, her Father-by-law. She may be the heir to her parent’s murder’s kingdom, but this kingdom will bend the knee to her and her alone. She will take her realm back by blood.

She found herself in front of the massive iron double doors to the throne room. As they opened, the large crowd of the court turned all eyes toward her and dared not look away for even a moment, as they always had done. The masses watched the predator in the eyes of the Dark Princess at all times for sign of a threat, waiting anxiously for the day she finally snaps and ends the man who murdered the very couple who gave her life.

She began ascending into the throne room, straight toward the Valyrian Throne where the now-King sat and a voice called out before her.

”Princess Anikyra of the great House Targaryen. First child of Valyria, Heir to the Valyrian throne.”

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daenysthedreamer101 · 28 days

Text

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 2 - Claiming your birthright

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, eventual Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: none, fluff, Nyra and Daena being adorable besties

Masterlist

"In 105 AC, Prince Daemon claimed Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, for himself. Caraxes was previously ridden by Prince Aemon, Daemon's uncle. This fact made many people at court wary, especially Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand, for Prince Daemon was hotheaded and quick to anger. It seemed he found his equal in Caraxes. Prince Daemon was also the wielder of Dark Sister, one of the ancestral swords of House Targaryen. As for his daughter, her egg never hatched. Nevertheless, this would not stop the Prince in his journey to make his beloved Daena a dragon rider like himself."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

The next day was the first official day of Rhaenyra's name day celebration. The whole of the Red Keep was bustling with excitement - from the cooks in the Royal kitchens to the stable boys and of course, the Royal family. Daena was expected to be there for her cousin and make this special day even more special. Today at noon the celebration would officially begin with a great feast in the Great Hall.

She was woken up by Amanda and told that Rhaenyra had called for her for a visit. They were to break fast with the Queen. Daena liked the idea of that. Queen Aemma was kind, soft-spoken, loving, and nothing but caring. She was always nice to Daena. But Daena felt bad for her. Every time Daena saw her, which wasn't a lot but still, she was pregnant. And as far as Daena knew, none of the babies the Queen was pregnant with survived. Daena, dressed in a simple silk dress decorated with bronze and silver threads, was now being escorted to the Queen's chambers.

There, she was greeted by Rhaenyra who pulled her in a tight hug. "Cousin! You're here! We're going to have the best time today!" Nyra exclaimed happily.

"And why is that, dear cousin?" Daena asked. Nyra giggled, pulled her closer, and whispered in her ear.

"Because...I convinced Father and Uncle Daemon to let you see Syrax! I know how much you wished for it. So I thought we could do it after the feast!" Nyra said.

Daena's eyes widened in shock. Daena couldn't contain the squeal that left her mouth. She and Nyra jumped in delight. Aemma was chuckling in the back.

At noon the great feast began. She had the honor of sitting next to Rhaenyra. "You're the closest thing I have to a sister. I think you deserve to sit next to me." Nyra told her when they sat down at the high table. From there, Daena could see the entire Hall and all the lords and ladies who came for the celebration.

Uncle Viserys was in the middle. To his right was Queen Aemma and next to her was Ser Otto Hightower. To the King's left was Rhaenyra. To Daena's left was her father, Daemon. After the first course, Rhaenyra got up and danced with their cousin, Laenor Velaryon. Daena never interacted much with him. She preferred his sister, Laena. Laena was a year younger than Daena and was lively and fun to play with.

During the feast, Daena could see many people looking her way and whispering to each other. The daughter of the Rogue Prince was making her first official appearance at court. She didn't understand why they all feared her father. He was always kind and gentle with her. He would braid her hair and teach her High Valyrian.

He would sing her lullabies in the ancient language. Most importantly, he would comfort her anytime she was sad about not having a dragon. But apparently, other people thought he was "dangerous" and "cruel as Maegor". She wanted to roll her eyes at those ridiculous words.

After the feast held in the Great Hall, Daena was tired. Well, not tired per se, she felt heavy and sleepy from eating so much food. She yawned quietly and saw Nyra looking at her. "Issi ao ēdrugī, hāedar?" (Are you sleepy, little sister/cousin?) Rhaenyra asked Daena.

Daena smiled sheepishly and nodded her head. Nyra chuckled and took Daena's hand in hers. "Nyke tolī. Māzigon va. Ivestragī's jikagon se gūrogon iā adere ēdrugon." (Me too. Come on. Let's go and take a nap.) The two young princesses walked happily hand in hand toward Rhaenyra's bed chamber.

There, they took off their dresses and were left only in their small clothes. They unbraided each other's silver hair. Daena pulled the big, heavy velvet curtains over the windows. They crawled into Rhaenyra's bed and slept with full bellies and happy hearts.

Daemon couldn't wait for the feast to be over. The only reason he was there in the first place is because it was expected of him, as the King's brother. Also, he knew just how much it meant to his niece, Rhaenyra, and his daughter Daena. The two girls were inseparable and were sisters in everything but name. His primary goal in coming to the capital was to secure a dragon for his precious girl. Even now he could hear people whispering around the court about how his daughter's egg didn't hatch. How it's too late for her.

"Lies. All lies." He claimed Caraxes when he was 24. His daughter had plenty of time to claim one for herself. But Daemon was anything but a patient person. So, of course, he was planning on speeding up the process. He planned on suggesting to the King that, since Daena was down South, she should visit the ancient ancestral seat of their House - Dragonstone. There, she could explore the island and its many caves. Hopefully, she would bond with a hatchling.

"Where is that mischievous little girl?" Daemon murmured to himself as he walked down the halls of the Red Keep. He checked her room. She wasn't there. She must've snuck somewhere, away from the buzz of the court. And if his instincts were right, she wasn't alone.

He quickly turned to the other hallway, which housed Rhaenyra's room. In front of her door was her sworn shield, Ser Harrold Westerling. "Prince Daemon." The knight greeted him.

"Ser Harrold...did you by any chance see my daughter? I can't seem to locate her." Daemon inquired. The knight nodded, opened the heavy oak door, and gestured for Daemon to walk in. So he did. The sight that greeted him warmed his rogue heart.

On top of the big oak bed, his little girl was curled up with her favorite cousin, the two blissfully asleep. Their silver hair was loose, their round cheeks red from the heat of the fireplace. The room was barely lit and the air was stuffy. Their little hands were intertwined. They seemed to be hugging each other, their breaths mingling. He originally wanted to scold Daena for sneaking out of the feast with Rhaenyra, but he didn't have the heart to wake them up now.

At the foot of the bed, he saw a book, lying open. It seems the girls were reading before taking a nap. He picked it up. It was in High Valyrian. This particular chapter was about commands riders would use on their dragons. "My little dragon...always eager to learn." Daemon thought to himself with a smile on his face.

He walked closer to the edge of the bed and looked at the sleeping figure of his little girl. She was so beautiful, she looked like a little angel - now even more so. He caressed her rosy cheek and moved a silver curl from her face. "Ñuha gevie riña." (My beautiful girl.) He whispered and pulled the covers over their small bodies. He left the room silently.

"Inform me when the Princesses wake up." He told Ser Harrold and went in the direction of the stables to get his horse. He was going to the Dragonpit with a plan in his mind.

They were awakened by the harsh afternoon sunlight. Daena could feel the light hitting her eyes. She groaned and turned around, almost colliding with Nyra's face.

"Princesses...It seems you fell asleep. Prince Daemon told me to wake you up. Have you forgotten about your little arrangement in the Dragonpit?" Amanda told them with a small smile on her face.

"Oh Gods! Yes, of course! Come on Daena, get dressed!" Rhaenyra said with a gasp and urged her cousin to get dressed quickly.

"But my clothes are in my room...Besides...I don't have any clothes for dragon riding..." Daena argued.

"That's not a problem. Take one of my suits." Nyra offered graciously. This made Daena smile a wide smile.

The trip to the Dragonpit was short. The two girls chatted the whole time so the time went by quickly. Once they arrived, Daena could not believe her eyes. The Dragonpit was a huge, cavernous building made to house the dragons. And the sight that greeted her brought a smile to her face. Her father, Daemon was scratching the scales of his monstrous red dragon, Caraxes, known as the Blood Wyrm. She could see that Caraxes was restless to fly.

"Come, sweet girl. He won't hurt you." Daemon called for her. She looked at Rhaenyra who was beside her. Nyra just smiled a mischievous smile.

"But what about you? You told me I would see Syrax." Daena questioned.

"Don't worry. I will introduce you two later. Now, go!" Nyra said and pushed her deeper into the Pit.

Daena slowly approached her father and his dragon. She has seen the dragon many times. Her father took her hand and pressed it against Caraxes's hot scales. For a second she thought her skin would melt off her hands, but it didn't. The dragon clicked and whistled, happy to see his rider's child. He could sense the little being was a Targaryen, that she was Daemon's offspring, and that she too had the blood of the dragon. His big yellow eyes bore into her lilac ones.

"He likes you. He can tell - you're a dragon too." Daemon told his daughter. She smiled shyly, happy that her father's dragon liked her.

"Now. Climb up." Daemon ordered her. She whipped her head.

"What!?" Daena said, shocked.

"You heard me. Climb up. I will be right behind you." He assured her. She took a deep breath and started climbing the ropes to get to the saddle, her father right behind her.

"Sōvēs Caraxes!" (Fly Caraxes!) She heard her father say behind her. And then, they flew.

High Valyrian:

Issi ao ēdrugī, hāedar? - Are you sleepy, little sister/cousin?

Nyke tolī. Māzigon va. Ivestragī's jikagon se gūrogon iā adere ēdrugon. - Me too. Come on. Let's go and take a nap.

Ñuha gevie riña. - My beautiful girl.

Sōvēs Caraxes! - Fly Caraxes!

***

In this chapter we see more of Daena's bond with both Nyra and her father. It was mostly filler but next chapter will be a crucial one for Daena.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

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unusual-raccoon · 1 month

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Silver Son (Ch. 2) | by Unusual_Raccoon (JaceLuke)

@livinginafantasysposts, @andromaxeoftroy, @saintbehemoth, @mondstaub1, @the-heartlines, @the-white-w0lf, @potatochips-15, @arkah-archive, @lunar-19, @bimyself06

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jacaerys Velaryon, Blonde Jacaerys Velaryon, Jace is Daemon's Biological Son, Complicated Relationships, Political Alliances, Canon-Typical Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jacaerys Velaryon, Omega Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Episode: s01e08 The Lord of the Tides (House of the Dragon), Viserys I Targaryen Lives, Daemyra Have Disney Parent-itis = they died, Brother/Brother Incest, POV Alternating, Political Alliances, Arranged Marriage, Valyrian Culture & Customs (A Song of Ice and Fire), Valyrian Wedding, Loss of Virginity, Explicit Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting Summary: With few options left, Lucerys travels to Dragonstone to marry his mother's eldest son and heir, Jacaerys Targaryen. WC: 8,9K+ Ao3 Link

It began with a proposal. The promise of marriage in exchange for protection.

A marriage…to the prince of Dragonstone.

Their breakneck pace had consumed two weeks' worth of time in an instant, and before Lucerys had a true moment to recuperate, he was standing upon blue-veined white marble within the Eyrie’s High Hall.

“Prince Lucerys,” The lady of the Vale welcomed him, eyes as blue as the sky creased at the corners in a small sign of fondness.

“My lady,” he greeted, lowering his head in a show of deference to his host.

“I pray your time in King’s Landing has seen you well.”

“It has my lady, and while I am eternally grateful for your hospitality, I’m afraid I will need to depart from the Eyrie soon.”

To her credit, Jeyne Arryn took the news with aplomb.

“Might I ask, who is stealing you away, dear cousin?”

“I am Targaryen, my lady, I worry you may find the truth upsetting.”

She arched a single brow, the same shade of honeyed-gold as her hair. Whatever fondness she reserved for Lucerys in the months since his mother’s passing seemed to vanish at the mere insinuation of him.

What power you wield, dear brother.

The image of pale hair stained more crimson than silver flashed through his mind.

“I see.” She replied with an icy sort of diplomacy that made his teeth clench cold. Her disdain gleamed through in the blue of her eyes.

“And you’re certain there is nothing I can do to persuade you otherwise?”

She spoke with a royal I, not only of herself but also of the Eyrie and all its vassal houses…House Corbray amongst them. He thought of Ser Corwyn – the kind, gentle Valeman that had seen him return to the Eyrie safely.

Corwyn, who carried Valyrian steel upon his hip. He pondered briefly the wail Lady Forlorn might make when she collided with Dark Sister.

The hairs on his arms stood on end. He prayed it would not come to such unpleasantries.

Yet, as he imagined falling sway to Lady Arryn’s suggestions and wedding Ser Corwyn, Lucerys’ mind only conjured the image of Alyssa’s Tears scorched dry by dragonfire, yellow-orange flames shot through with veins of green, and his betrothed’s body severed at the neck, his handsome head gnashed between Vermax’s thorny jaws…

Have care, I will crush him if he intends to deny your departure.

He recalled his brother’s words even a fortnight later, as though he was yet twined in Jacaerys’ arms rubbing mindless fingers against the dried blood, blood his brother had spilled in Lucerys’ name, upon the velvet of his sleeve. He chastised himself still for the thoughtless creature he had been reduced to with his lungs full of his elder half-brother’s scent: the heat of an open flame and the heady musk of white oak.

The thought inspired a conflicting sense of hot and cold spreading through his body. A simultaneous pleasure and pain.

“I think it is for the best, my lady.”

Her smile was amiable, but far from pleased.

“Very well,” She hummed in acquiescence.

It was not until she descended from her carved weirwood throne that Lucerys voiced another rather pressing concern.

“I must admit, dear cousin, I fear how he will take the news.”

Jeyne Arryn offered a soft smile, her hand folded over the delicate expanse of his forearm and he was reminded of the few times the lady of the Vale had taken him hawking in the Mountains of the Moon.

“He loves you, he’ll understand.” she reminded with a knowing tilt of her lips.

Lucerys exhaled. He hoped love might be enough to soften the blow of his elder brother’s proposal as Lady Jeyne escorted him to his apartments in the Maiden’s Tower.

. . .

A long soak in a marble tub had not seen his nerves much improved. In fact, Lucerys felt more disturbed knowing he was avoiding the inevitable.

He sank deeper into the water scented with orange blossoms and rose hips, while it was a distraction, it was certainly a pleasant one; it did wonders for his sore bottom after two hard weeks on horseback.

He hadn’t dithered for much longer before dressing.

He omitted his usual high-collared samite gown with a laced-tight bodice to accentuate curves nature had failed to provide, in exchange for a soft, modest shift to sleep in.

He layered a patterned dressing gown over his shift to stave off the everpresent wind of the Vale.

There was a knock at the door and Lucerys grimaced. He wasn’t ready, yet still approached his fate with a raised chin - as mother had taught him.

“Prince Lucerys-”

“Ser Corwyn,” He greeted, voice lilted in surprise.

“My deepest apologies, forgive the intrusion, I was not aware-” the knight stammered at Lucerys’ state of dress.

“There is nothing to forgive, the fault is mine own,” Lucerys murmured, cheeks warm, as demure as any proper worshiper of the Seven desired in an Omega.

The insinuation of his nakedness was enough, even layered in sleepwear as he was.

Lucerys crossed bashful arms over himself and Corwyn reddened further.

“I have heard the news of your departure,” Corwyn informed steadily and to the point, eyes focused on some fixed point just over Lucerys’ shoulder.

“From Lady Jeyne, I have no doubt” he had shared the news with none other,“– forgive me, it is uncouth to speak of my host in such a way.”

Corwyn shook his head.

“It was uncouth of my Lady to share business that was not hers.”

Lucerys swallowed, wringing his hands together, discreetly scratching small scent glands in his wrists until the air sweetened with his natural scent.

Vanilla and browned butter.

“I gather that she has informed you as to why I must be leaving…”

Corwyn nodded, nostrils flaring subtly. His jaw tightened.

“She has…”

He looked away, sheepishly with a dusky color upon his cheeks that revealed what his nonexistent scent did not. He chafed at the thought of Lucerys departing to Dragonstone - to Jacaerys.

“Ser, I pray you will not think less of me now…it is not a thought I think I can bear.”

Corwyn’s eyes were a bluish-grey, a beautiful, but understated color that Lucerys admired as the knight turned back towards him in shock.

“My Prince I would never.”

“I don’t believe our Lady shared this information with the thought that it might sour my opinion of you.”

“Oh,” Lucerys exhaled with the kind of smile that enamored countless at court, “good,” he hummed with a dithering kind of naivete a simpering storybook Omega possessed.

Corwyn appeared ensorcelled.

He prayed silently that Jacaerys might be so simple to gain mastery over.

“I believe my cousin has shared with me this news to embolden me…”

Embolden, Lucerys thought. Corwyn’s eyes focused on him then, breathing a touch shallow like he meant to sling Lucerys down onto the floor to ravage him…

Instead, the knight drew Lady Forlorn from the sheath upon his hip.

Lucerys’ heart stilled for a moment before Corwyn knelt before him, head lowered.

“With your permission, my prince, I would swear myself to you…as your protector.”

His brother’s words rang through his head once more as the knight’s hands clasped the weeping woman carved into the sword’s pommel and grip.

You have gone too long without an Alpha. Too long without proper protection.

Lucerys was not acquisitive enough to think he could have both his brother’s protection and Ser Corwyn’s.

A choice was required.

He imagined yet again the sound that Lady Forlorn might make when she clashed with Dark Sister, yet when he pictured Valyrian steel on steel he could only hear the bellow of a dragon…

“You honor me deeply, ser…but, I am afraid I cannot accept. To bind yourself to me on the eve of my marriage…it would not be wise. I fear my betrothed will think ill of it. However, I hope that should I ever need such a gallant knight you might permit me to call upon you?”

Ser Corwyn rose with a conflicted look etched upon his face.

His bluish-grey eyes softened as Lucerys draped an effete hand over the knight’s forearm. Corwyn’s gaze lingered on Lucerys’ hand.

“Of course, my prince.”

Again, Lucerys offered that affable smile and his sweet scent and all was well.

“Rest well, my prince.”

Lucerys blinked slowly, a soft smile about his lips, “I shall certainly rest easier now ser, thank you.”

With Corwyn addressed he would face his greatest challenge yet on the morrow.

. . .

In the morn he was awoken by the sound of his door opening and a riotous blur bolting inside. He was spared only a moment before said blur was atop his bed – bouncing.

“You’re back!”

“Joff,” Lucerys hummed, half asleep, partially shielding his body from each spring of his younger brother’s body.

“You’re back!” He exclaimed again with a wide, gap-toothed smile, “What was the capital like? Did you get to see the king? Is it true that you killed someone?”

Lucerys’ eyes widened immediately, what vestiges of sleep remained fled from him.

He wrangled his younger brother in his hands like catching lightning in a bottle.

Joffrey tugged at the silk sleeves of Lucerys’ shift, irritated at being held captive.

“Where have you heard such things?” Lucerys asked seriously.

“A girl from the kitchens,” Joffrey shrugged, “She said someone died-”

Gods damn Jacaerys Targaryen. Already whispers floated about the validity of his hearing of succession. Matters hadn’t been helped by the same rumor mills purporting that Ser Vaemond’s head had allegedly been fed to his elder brother’s dragon; he had yet to hear the word kinslayer but knew it hung on countless tongues.

“You should not repeat such talk, it is not princely.”

Joffrey tugged upon Lucerys’ sleeve, eager to be released.

“Swear it,” Lucerys commanded with a waggle of his finger.

“Fine, I swear it, let go-”

“You swear what?”

“I swear not to repeat unprincely things, Luke-” Joffrey whined.

Lucerys smiled fondly despite himself and released his grip upon his younger brother, content to let him whirl about.

And whirl he did. He had become so content in the Vale. A part of Lucerys mourned the thought of taking him from what had just started to feel like home. It wasn’t fair.

“Joffrey?” Lucerys called as Joffrey’s dark head bobbed around. His brother fiddled with something on the other side of Lucerys’ apartments; something breakable no doubt.

“Something did happen at court…something important.”

“Is this about you getting married? I already know,” Joffrey said, sounding rather bored as he watched the viscous swirl in a stoppered inkwell.

“Another rumor from your spy in the kitchens?” Lucerys asked, unmoved by his brother’s pout.

“No - and she’s not a spy!” He huffed defensively, “Melara told me that you’ll marry her father. I’m not upset, Luke, I promise. I like Ser Corwyn. If you marry him, do you think he’ll train me to be a knight and give me his sword when I’m older?”

Lucerys felt ill.

“Joffrey, come here,” He beckoned, voice trembling. His brother whined a petulant little noise, but remained at Lucerys’ desk, shaking the stoppered inkwell.

“Now.”

It was cruel, Lucerys knew, but he prayed none of his children were Alphas, that none would ever be so obstinate as his brother - brothers. He prayed for Betas and Omegas to quicken in his belly when the time came, for obedient children with sensible little heads on sensible little shoulders.

“She said House Corbray’s colors are like ours, red and black - and white too, but that we wouldn’t have to change very much.”

Change, Lucerys thought to himself, how much of that have we endured already?

Joffrey continued his blabbering, stubborn at that. Lucerys winced, his frustration mounting to a point of eruption.

“I won’t be marrying Ser Corwyn!”

Distantly, he heard glass shattering as the inkwell toppled to the ground. Lucerys bolted from the bed, taking Joffrey’s little hands in his own. He scrutinized his brother’s palms for any shards of glass amidst the overwhelming pools of ink on his pale skin…

“Why not?!”

“Oh, Joff, look at your hands! You mustn’t be so careless.”

His younger brother tore his hands out of Lucerys’ grasp, visibly crestfallen. The pristine white silk of his sleeve was slashed with ugly splatters of black ink.

“Why aren’t you marrying Ser Corwyn?”

Why? Why indeed…

Lucerys sighed. How could he tell a child of seven years about the politics of the matter? Or worse yet, that in the most aggravatingly primal sense, a piece of him yearned for Jacaerys…

“I’ve been presented with a stronger proposal.”

“But, you said we’d be safe here, that we wouldn’t have to leave!”

His younger brother argued, what else could he have said to a grieving child who had just fled the only home he had ever known? Their exodus from Dragonstone had been a hasty affair, yet in the midst of their pain and fear, it seemed the only thing they could do.

“This proposal means more protection, real protection,” Lucerys swallowed, each breath scraping the inside of his throat like shards of glass as his brother’s face reddened, “Joff, we can go home.”

Tears welled in the muddy brown of Joffrey’s eyes.

He held his brother’s dirty little hands so tightly in his own, clinging desperately.

“But if I am to keep my word, we must leave soon.”

Lucerys brushed an affectionate finger beneath the cleft in his brother’s chin.

“You haven’t misplaced Tyraxes’ saddle have you?”

Joffrey blinked slowly with a dawning realization, sadness forgotten at the prospect of flying again.

“No…”

“Good,” Lucerys hummed before ruffling his brother’s dark curls, swallowing beyond the lump in his throat as he spoke, “you’re going to need it.”

. . .

The fortnight he had allotted had passed, and for two days and two nights longer, Jacaerys had waited.

He had spent 6 years in the North as a ward of Lord Cregan Stark, estranged from his family, and yet, he had never yearned more ardently for his own blood than he did in the two weeks since leaving King’s Landing.

Every morning he waited on Dragonstone's beaches for a young white dragon to pierce the clouds and the scent of vanilla and browned butter to shower him from the sky; for Lucerys to come home to him.

Each day that passed he weighed the worth of simply collecting his brother on dragonback. Of flying to the Eyrie, Dark Sister in hand…like Visenya on Vhagar, and dragging his little wife home.

But then he thought of Lucerys…of sweet, gentle Lucerys.

He refused to force the matter. Lucerys would come to him in time, he knew it…

And so he waited, morning after morning.

And each morning yet he had been disappointed, though he was not the only one.

Baela was still bitter about his decision to break their betrothal that had been arranged since they’d been born…

A marriage done in the tradition of Old Valyria was binding, unbreakable, a union that could never be undone or annulled. Immutable to the word of any king or council. It was everlasting.

He’d been rehearsing the words since he’d had ears to know them. Leagues away in the bitter cold, they had given him warmth. The knowledge he might one day speak them to the one that he loved, as his mother had, as his father had, as was his right.

He was owed this. Tradition dictated for the two oldest children to marry, as Aegon and Visenya had; there was duty and honor in it. By definition, Jacaerys and Lucerys were their mother’s eldest children - the two destined to wed.

He stared at the sky, awaiting his destiny.

. . .

It was the third morning and the sky was a cool blue, drowsy in color when a bright streak sailed through it…

Descending toward the island like a falling star.

Lucerys.

Jacaerys had never seen anything so picturesque, so perfect-

Then came the rambunctious squawk of a dragon scarcely large enough to fly. Black and red and chasing after gulls, belching plumes of black flames.

Joffrey.

“Dohaerās, Tyraxes!” A reedy little voice called.

“Ninkiot, Arrax,” Lucerys commanded calmly and Jacaerys watched as that young dragon, glittering pearl white and gold, spread his wings to slow his descent to the island.

The sea breeze rolled over the shore, tasting of salt and morning air, of vanilla and browned butter…

Lucerys was a vision in supple charcoal gray, wool-lined riding leathers. His dark curls were wind-tossed and his cheeks a ravishing shade of red.

Those beautiful brown eyes widened at the sight of him.

His younger brother cleared his throat, calling up to Joffrey.

“Come down here,” He commanded, “now.”

Lucerys’ expression was unreadable as he marched across the sands toward Jacaerys, Joffrey in tow.

The dragonkeepers handled their mounts, even the unruly Tyraxes who had feathers hanging from his maw.

“Jacaerys,” Lucerys greeted coolly, with a defiant little raised chin. Jace wanted him then and there — marriage be damned, he wished to pup Luke in the sand. He pushed the thought away, quite capable of ignoring his hindbrain.

“Brother,” Jacaerys responded smoothly, smile softening, “welcome home.”

Lucerys gave a small nod, dainty gloved hands clasped together demurely.

“I apologize for making you wait,” Lucerys said primly, poised and practiced and perfect.

Jace chuckled, “Oh, I doubt that very much. Come along, we’ll get you both settled.”

They stepped through the Great Hall’s massive red doors, flanked by household guards at every step.

He felt Lucerys gasp as he pressed a palm to the small of his brother’s back, leading him into the hall. Luke walked along, spine stiff, his scent dripping from his pores.

It was surreal, sharing the space with Lucerys once more… It had been so long since they had been here together, lived here together.

“Prince Jacaerys,” Maester Gerardys greeted fondly, “and Prince Lucerys, how comforting it is to see you two together once more…”

For the first time since his brother had returned home, Jacaerys witnessed that icy demeanor thaw. His smile was soft and genuine and beautiful…

“It is…good to be home,” He answered, and to Jacaerys’ surprise, his words seemed sincere. Buried somewhere beneath the stoicism his younger brother wore like a coat of mail, he was happy.

“Your mother would be pleased.”

Lucerys’ throat bobbed and his eyes misted, for a moment he seemed to lean into Jacaerys’ touch upon his back. He steadied Lucerys instantly, naturally — it was what elder brothers were meant to do.

He caught a brief flash of gratitude in the corner of a brown eye when Lucerys glanced back at him.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Jacaerys said softly, to which Lucerys nodded, a pliant little thing.

“I know where my room is,” Joffrey called, running off blindly, to Lucerys’ horror and Jace’s amusement. Lucerys seemed mortified of Joffrey’s boyish behavior, like some minute thing would pull the rug out from beneath them, as though he may cast them out to the wilds once more…

He’d sooner fall upon his own sword than permit such a thing to happen.

“It’s alright,” Jace soothed, tasting the frantic spike in his younger brother’s scent, vanilla and burnt butter, “he’s home too.”

Lucerys nodded, swallowing thickly.

“When will the ceremony be?” Lucerys asked, his voice steady like he’d practiced the words.

“When would you like it to be?” Jace asked in return, something that seemed to bewilder his younger brother who stared up at him owlishly. Something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Soon,” he said, a tad uncertain as Jacaerys slowly circled him like prey.

“Soon?” Jacaerys echoed with a wily smirk. Lucerys’ brow dipped in what he knew was annoyance.

“Yes, soon, unless you intend on making me wait.”

There he was, Jacaerys grinned, all teeth - his Luke.

“Had I known you were so eager to be my wife, I never would have left King’s Landing without you…” His lips touched his younger brother’s ear.

Lucerys exhaled a shaky breath that he very badly wanted to be a scoff, struggling to right his mask of aloofness. The rich scent of vanilla and browned butter, nutty and earthen and sweet, betrayed him.

“Is tonight soon enough for you, brother?” Jacaerys asked, his subvocals flanging.

Lucerys turned, blinking up at him, pink-cheeked.

“Y-yes.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Lucerys said with his raised little chin, as though he had been so decisive, to begin with; Jacaerys could only focus on the cute cleft of his chin that he wished to trace with his tongue.

Without another word, his younger brother turned and exited the Great Hall, marching down a corridor after Joffrey.

. . .

Valyrian wedding ceremonies were not as time-consuming as weddings performed under the faith of the seven. The very same priest that had performed their mother’s wedding was summoned to conduct theirs.

The materials had been gathered and garments prepared.

A natural stone dias was dressed accordingly. A thick chalice of inscribed Valyrian steel sat upon the dias, filled halfway from a decanter of blood wine.

Jacaerys’ hands shook as he reached for the traditional robes worn during Valyrian wedding ceremonies. The fabric was a pale cream color, with thick blood-red collars and a gradient along the hem and sleeves.

They were meant to symbolize blood purity… the irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Father was the last to wear these…”

Jacaerys exhaled, fingers trailing over the dyed collar of the robe. He never had the right to refer to Daemon Targaryen as his father publically, yet as he stared at the garment, shapeless against his dressing table, it felt right. His father had worn these robes, and Jacaerys would wear them after him.

“He’d be proud of you…”

Baela intoned, her voice alarmingly gentle despite how angry she had been with him in the past weeks.

“Even if I’m marrying against his wishes?”

His sister smiled a radiant thing. Pretty enough to kiss, but he knew better than to try.

“Especially because you’re marrying against his wishes. You chose your own bride…he’d admire that.”

Baela stepped closer, inspecting the ceremonial garment. The fabric seemed endless when lifted into her tiny hands.

“You have every right to wear them, Jace. You’re a Targaryen.”

He nodded and began unlacing his tunic.

“Slower,” His sister bade, her deep violet eyes raking over every ounce of unveiled flesh with unbridled want. Spice flower and cinnamon hung heavy in the air. There was time when that scent beckoned him like a siren’s call, yet there had always been another scent, more potent —— dragonsong.

“I don’t want to forget a thing,” She added sadly, and Jacaerys felt a twinge of regret…she had always been good to him.

Jacaerys slowed, plucking away each individual lace with the utmost care. The garment swayed open and he heard the sharp intake of her breath.

He smiled softly. He couldn’t marry her, but he could give her this.

. . .

It all felt foreign to Lucerys like something out of a dream. His hair painfully twined into a snug series of plaits and braids atop of which the ceremonial headdress was placed.

The robes were long, the dyed hem puddled like blood around his feet.

Unbidden emotion snagged in his throat as he straightened the headdress. His entire life had led to this moment, from the day he was born and the maester had announced what resided between his legs. He was an Omega, he was born to be someone’s wife. Jacaerys’ wife. His face burned hot for reasons he dared not contemplate.

He was to be married and his mother wasn’t here to witness it…

He glared at his reflection in the looking glass.

He blinked away the tears quickly and straightened his back. Jacaerys wanted a wife and he’d get one…and Lucerys would get the legitimacy he’d been lacking. He would certainly be a wife, but Jacaerys had been born an Alpha —— he would become Lucerys’ weapon. It was all he could find comfort in; for this was not a union borne of love.

Lucerys’ bravado held up quite nicely as they traveled to the dais where the ceremony would be held. Jacaerys looked as he always did, aggravatingly handsome; rakish, even, in the long ceremonial robes with his silver hair bound in twists away from his face.

Countless candles burned around the dias, ensconcing them in a golden hue.

It was surreal, standing on warmed stone in the very same spot, in the very same gown his mother had once worn…

Joffrey stood beside Maester Gerardys, a sour look on his little face, in the same spot where Lucerys had stood as a child. Fragmented memories of his mother’s wedding washed over him like the dewy evening rain.

A hand in his clutched so tightly. Father had died. Warm lips pressed to his crown, there was no giggling when he pressed his cold little feet to the backs of warm knees; just a need to be sated, and comfort that was given. There was no room for laughter on the grim day. Mother had never looked so beautiful. The hand in his was pulled away. It hurt, that missing piece, like a severed limb…

“Luke?”

Lucerys felt the memory fade away as he blinked his way back to the present. Jacaerys stared at him with unabashed concern.

“Hm?” he hummed, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you ready for the ceremony to begin?” The priest asked.

“Yes,” Jacaerys said without hesitation, and all eyes were on Lucerys.

“Yes,” Luke nodded, the tassels of the headdress bouncing.

“Very well.”

Ceremonial dragonglass daggers were given to each of them.

“I’ll go first,” Jacaerys told him and Lucerys nodded, and when he smiled at Luke, it was the smile of an elder brother.

Rest easy, little brother, that roguish smile said, I’m here. His hands trembled as he brought the shard to his Jacaerys’ mouth. He didn’t flinch when Luke cut him. The dagger split the supple flesh of Jacaerys’ lower lip with ease. Blood oozed bright and warm. He gathered some upon his thumb, transfixed by it. The candles seemed to glow brighter, the air more fragrant. He painted the sigil upon Jacaerys’ skin.

His own dagger was lowered as Jacaerys approached. A large hand came to grip his chin, stroking the skin fondly. He tensed in anticipation of the sting of the dagger. He met his brother’s gaze, those hypnotic violet eyes, silver lashes brushed gold in the candlelight. He felt warm, very warm wrapped in Jace’s scent. His hindbrain was alight. Gently, the dagger sliced his lower lip, he hardly felt it.

He blinked and Jacaerys’ thumb was wet with his blood.

The liquid crimson felt hot against his skin as his brother painted the accompanying sigil.

Blood would flow, and their line would continue.

He watched as Jacaerys’ dagger carved a wound across his palm. Lucerys did the same.

The priest carried forth the chalice and spoke the binding words. An embroidered chord of gold tied them together.

“Hen lantoti ānogar”

Blood of two

“Va sȳndroti vāedroma”

Joined as one

Jacaerys’ hand clasped with his, the open wounds upon their palms bleeding into one another. Unerringly intimate; eternally entwined. The golden chord soaked crimson. Red oozed into the chalice.

“Elēdroma iārza sīr”

And song of shadows

“Izulī ampā perzī”

Two hearts as embers

Lucerys stared into the chalice, at the placid surface of the blood wine, small dots of liquid crimson littered the rim, like crushed garnets. His reflection stared back.

The wine smelled of figs and iron and was thick upon his tongue. He’d never known something so foreign, yet so perfect. Heat raced in his veins when he swallowed it. Jacaerys’ eyes never left his, his hand clutched so tightly…they were a perfect fit.

“Prūmī lanti sēteksi”

Forged in Fourteen flames

Fourteen candles stood taller than the rest.

“Hen jenȳ māzīlarion”

A future promised in glass

Jacaerys tilted the chalice toward his lips. Lucerys squeezed at his brother’s hand, fresh blood sticking between their palms.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi”

The stars stand witness

“Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo”

The vow spoken through time

“Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.”

Of darkness and light.

“Your vows must be spoken.”

Lucerys nodded and swallowed the urge to mewl as Jacaerys’ hand squeezed his; both comforting and consuming.

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” they spoke the words in unison. The lingering taste of wine on his tongue deepened. The richness of Jacaerys’ scent thickened in his lungs. He could taste only fire and blood…

The priest lowered his hands and inclined his hooded head towards them to indicate the ceremony was complete. Lucerys’ entire being pulsed hotter than the dragonmont. They were married. Bound in blood.

He stared at Jacaerys, still struggling to fathom when his brother’s lips were on his - kissing him, ravenously; like he had waited his entire life for such a moment. And it returned to him, the frayed pieces of a memory, like torn pages in a book, as Jacaerys’ hands gathered his face between them, tender and so familiar - they had done this before.

Oh.

He felt a fool.

He gasped when his brother pulled away, mouth red. Lucerys’ legs felt boneless. His hand clutching Jacaerys’ sleeve, anchored to his brother, his husband, his other half…

Jacaerys’ tongue chased the trickle of crimson from Lucerys’ mouth. He mewled then, openly, unabashedly, without meaning to.

His brother’s forehead touched his, tacky with blood. A deep flanging purr swelled there and Lucerys struggled to remain upright with his knees turned to liquid. A strong arm curled around his waist.

The sky shook with the triumphant cries of Vermax and Arrax. Blasts of dragonfire burst above them in a spectrum of color, yellow-orange, gold, copper, and bronze, swirls of white, pearl, emerald, and jade green. There were streaks of rainbow light where their flames collided as their dragons danced in the sky overhead.

With the wedding complete, only one thing remained…

Their wedding night.

. . .

The inside of the Lord’s chambers were carved in dark stone, the snarling heads of dragons frame towering columns around the bed, a blood-red canopy draped above it.

Dragonstone was not known for its forgiving weather, and despite the chill that was ever-present in the air, Lucerys felt like the flesh might slough off his bones from the heat that raged within him.

A fire burned in the hearth that resembled a dragon’s maw, with flames crackling between pointed stone teeth.

A touch dragged featherlight over his pulse and he gasped, body burning hotter than the fire.

He looked at his brother - his husband with new eyes.

“Forgive me,” He murmured in apology, “I feel…warm.”

Jacaerys offered a smile, a flash of pointed teeth that left Lucerys breathless.

“‘Tis your blood calling.” His husband explained.

Lucerys flushed deeply.

“Do not fret,” Jacaerys hummed, fingers finding Lucerys’ chin, stroking the skin fondly, “We will answer it.”

Lucerys nodded, struck into a demure state, his heart hammered hard in his chest.

There was nothing entirely complicated about seduction, Lucerys knew, most Alphas simply desired a chase. A submissive bit of prey that they could play with before devouring them whole. It became clear Jacaerys was no different in that regard.

It brought to mind a memory far more recent…

“Tilt your head, just gently over your shoulder. A tad more. Perfect. Lower your eyelids. Less, Lucerys.” Daemon clucked.

“I feel like an imbecile,” Lucerys complained, though his step-father chuckled.

“I assure you, you don’t look like one.”

He snorted, “Is this how mother got you to fall in love with her?”

Daemon hummed a laugh, flicking Lucerys’ ear as he passed by, “Don’t slouch, extend your neck. There. Delightful. Any Alpha with a knot between their legs will understand the invitation. And, no, your mother was the exception in that regard.”

Lucerys rolled his eyes. Unsurprised to find that his mother, as always, was so perfect.

“You have no shortage of suitors, even now, but it never hurts to know how to keep them.”

Lucerys flushed, “I have…suitors?”

Daemon nodded, “Many. Amongst our vassals Houses Bar Emon, Celtigar, and Massey have already put forth proposals for your hand. You even have the attention of an Alpha up North…”

“Truly?” Lucerys gasped, strangely flattered.

“He’s been the most persistent of all,” Daemon said with a wink.

“That’s enough practice for today, little one. With any luck, matters of marriage won’t be relevant for some time. At least not while your mother and I draw breath.”

The fresh loss of his parents' death yawned open once more, like a gash across his heart, at the memory, but he ignored the pain. His blood had already spilled today. Lucerys turned his back to Jacaerys as he began the tedious process of removing countless metal pins from his hair. Discreetly, he nipped at the scent gland in his wrist.

The aroma of vanilla and browned butter, rich and sweet dripped into the air. A Siren’s call.

Unlike Ser Corwyn who had merely blushed and floundered at the presence of his scent, his husband however, evidenced a more promising reaction.

He heard the sharp intake of Jacaerys’ breathing. The subtle beginnings of a growl left Lucerys weak at the knees.

He shook his curls loose with a soft sigh, he arched his back with an indulgent stretch.

When he turned back towards his husband, he did so employing everything Daemon had taught him. His head tilted coyly, his eyes hooded just right, bare neck extended boldly…

“Husband,” he called with intention, his voice a touch higher than it typically was, “shall we- mmph!”

Being kissed was as disorienting as it had been the first time, scorching, the taste of blood on his tongue. His husband’s hand cupped his bottom. Lucerys considered it a rousing success.

He panted, mouth slick. Jacaerys’ tongue glided against the roof of his mouth and something glittery and warm surged down to his toes. His brother’s fingers curled beneath Lucerys’ chin. A softer, kinder kiss was pressed to his crown, and yearning opened up in him like an old wound.

“I’ve missed you…” Jace whispered against Lucerys’ dark fringe. Longing resounded in his voice, spanning deep like the roots of a tree.

Lucerys swallowed, a strange sense of guilt left him feeling hulled. A part of him wanted to feel what his brother did as well, yet there were still pages torn from their story in his mind; pages he feared he may never recover.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t-“ He stammered, frightened that his husband may be slighted by history Lucerys had forgotten…

“I know,” Jacaerys soothed, thumb pressed to the cleft in Lucerys’ chin. A dizzy back and forth was etched in his flesh by the callused pad of his husband’s finger.

When his brother kissed him a second time, it was a slower exchange. Jacaerys’ mouth and tongue coaxed his into action. It was evocative, sensual, reciprocal; dragonsong. It was the stoking of embers, the spreading of wildfire to every corner of his being.

“On the bed,” his brother growled, a crass hand swatted his bottom.

Lucerys nodded.

Their robes were placed aside and Lucerys settled upon the bed, skin bare and pulsing hot.

He laid carefully upon his stomach, firelight licking at his back. His face burned as he arched his back, his bottom sticking out in subtle invitation.

The bed dipped beneath the addition of another body and Lucerys drew in a steadying breath. His lungs were coated with the aroma of white oak and an open flame; heady and thick. His hindbrain secreted pacifying pheromones that left him strangely at peace.

He was going to be claimed, he realized, holding fistfuls of sheets. He would be mounted like a broodmare…

A warm hand grazed his spine.

A breath that smelled of figs and blood wine caressed his ear.

“What are you doing?”

Laid upon his stomach, Lucerys should have felt vulnerable; his neck was left exposed. He tilted his head against the bedding, curls loose as he caught the corner of his husband’s statuesque visage knelt upon the bed.

“I-” Lucerys swallowed, mouth uncomfortably dry. Even now, as bare as the day he was born, he was meant to exude aplomb. Jacaerys clearly desired a confident lover.

“I am not so naive, journals and written accountings detail that being upon one’s stomach is the most efficient way to ensure a successful mount…”

Jacaerys’ expression remained unreadable, but then he chuckled that pleasant sound that buzzed in Lucerys’ ears.

“...a successful mount.” Jacaerys echoed to himself with a shake of his damnable silver head. Lucerys flushed hot with embarrassment, feeling anything but confident.

A warm hand settled upon the small of his back. The simple touch inspired a strange building pressure. Jacaerys’ lips touched his ear and Lucerys exhaled a flustered sound into the bedding.

“You have spent too long with Andals that do not know how to fuck…”

His husband’s voice dripped thick and hot into his skull, like honey, or blood. His quim clenched. His husband seemed intent on showing Lucerys the error in his ways.

“Fucking is a pleasure. And Omegas were made to be pleased.”

There was lightning in Jacaerys’ voice, raw power, like the crackling of logs in the hearth.

“Here,” Jacaerys murmured, “turn over.”

He blinked up at him, at his pale hair, at his violet eyes that were nearly glazed black, at the sharp contrast of gold light and rich velvety shadows painted by the hearth across his husband’s body. His mouth had grown wet at his lean abdomen and sturdy shoulders, at his firm chest and strong arms…

A picturesque virile Alpha.

“There you are,” Jacaerys hummed, eyes so very fond.

His thighs are eased apart and Jacaerys settled between them. Each touch exchanged between them felt like it might set them alight. Mere kindling to a fire.

Every sensation titillated and overwhelmed.

A finger trailed featherlight from the hollow of his throat to the spot above his navel where that building pressure persisted. He was left gasping. Tears beaded in his eyes.

“Mm,” Lucerys sighed, unaccustomed to such intimacy, such nearness as his husband caressed the spot as the feeling worsened.

His fingers dipped lower toward the dark mound of his quim, wiry curls matted with slick.

Lucerys’ hips leapt from the bed with a cry at the barest touch. A clever, knowing thumb unveiled his bud, teasing it. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, wetting his temples, inevitably soaking into his loose curls.

His husband’s damp fingers teased along the seam of his quim; leisurely, as if skimming the lines of a book he had read before.

He felt as a digit slipped down to the knuckle into his velvety embrace.

“Jacaerys,” He croaked. The concave dip of his stomach quivered as his husband’s attention returned to the pink ache of his bud; his fingers made a lewd sound, so thoroughly wetted with slick.

Jacaerys’ silver head lowered with a knowing look and began to kiss him breathlessly; each press of Jace’s lips against his own selfishly stole what air remained in his lungs, and good sense from his mind.

He anchored a fist in his husband’s pale hair if only for an ounce of control, to claim something in return.

He sucked on Jacaerys’ tongue when it dipped into his mouth; he felt his husband’s body shake with a melodic swell of his subvocals.

“When I claim you, it shall be like this,” Jacaerys murmured through spit-slick lips into Lucerys’ panting mouth, their foreheads were pressed together, tacky with dried blood and sweat.

“Not for a ‘successful mount’, but so that I may look upon you, so that I may see the pleasure writ across this face,” His husband paused mouthing at Lucerys’ jaw, weight steadied on a forearm, Jace gazed down at him with such longing, “to have gone six years without it, ‘tis a crime against our nature. Yours and mine.”

Lucerys longed to pry the words apart, like field dressing a fresh kill, to permit nothing to escape his grasp nor understanding. Yet, his husband’s fingers grazed his cunt once more and all sense was lost, bleeding from the pulsing, open wound of his weeping gash.

A few fingers glided into his heat, effortlessly and Lucerys moaned. Ashamed of how easily his body had been reduced to something so carnal.

He was lost in the pleasure, the thick haze of pheromones in his head, and the scent of Jacaerys in his lungs.

When his hips leapt once more, it was to chase the rhythm of Jacaerys’s fingers spreading him open; shaping the walls of his quim like a smith molded metal — with patience and dedication.

His husband’s digits sought deep, fingers squelching amidst the sticky nectar and slick flesh. Without preamble, that knot of tension above Lucerys’ navel was pulled so readily to its limits, fingers pressing at the tender raised flesh until the tension broke.

Lucerys yowled, the sensation smarted, whip-fast as he came undone. His cocklet, stiff and yearning just above the seam of quim, spurted a few delicate ribbons of white against his stomach and chest. His quim gushed as a more potent release took hold, soaking around his husband’s fingers and onto the bed. A pleasure swallowed him so readily that he could not make sense of an end or beginning.

A garbled stream of hybridized Valyrian and common peppered his ears like a rain of arrows.

“There you are,” Jacaerys huffed, eyes ablaze with awe, “Issa lēkia.”

“ābrazȳrys…” he snarled, “mate…”

His body, so laden with pheromones only longed for one thing. To be claimed.

What power you wield, dear brother.

Jacaerys had tasted his blood once already. Surely he wanted more, needed more, needed to sink his teeth into Lucerys’ neck, where his bonding gland lay pristine and untouched.

“I, I need-”

“I shall give you what you need, wife.”

Pangs of longing littered his flesh, like ground glass in raw meat. He watched, mouth wet as Jacaerys’ cock swayed heavy and thick between well-muscled thighs.

It seemed impossibly large then; too large.

“Mm, b-brother… it won’t-”

“It will fit,” Jacaerys assured with a smile that Luke wanted terribly to believe, a brief kiss was pressed to Lucerys’ lips, “you were made for this,” another kiss, “you were made for me.”

Lucerys nodded, permitting his body to fall slack, tensionless, sedate with pheromones and supplicant for his Alpha.

The fattened head of his husband’s cock rubbed slowly along his quim, gathering nectar along the girth.

His stomach quivered as the glistening crown of Jacaerys’ manhood pressed obscenely large to Luke’s quim, puffy and pink.

“Shh,” Jacaerys soothed. His thumb toyed with Lucerys’ bud, rubbing tender little circles as the head applied a hint more pressure.

His legs spasmed as pleasure frothed in his belly.

He whined, the lips of his quim stretching to welcome the thick, drooling head.

His hips inched higher as Jacaerys’ eased lower. He envisioned the steel-tipped head of an arrow piercing the soft cushion of a straw-stuffed target.

The lips of his quim opened like a flower in bloom.

Jacaerys held himself painfully still as Lucerys mewled beneath him at the thin barrier of his maidenhead halting his brother’s path.

His brother kissed the salty spill of his tears; seeming to savor them as readily as he had Luke’s blood.

He awaited the agony that every maester and septa warned young Omegas of, for a geyser of blood to burst from between his thighs as his Alpha sank down to the bulb of his knot.

Yet, as Jacaerys finally slipped completely inside, it wasn’t at all as violent as Lucerys had imagined. It stretched the walls of his quim to what felt like its limits, certainly, but, the sensation did not inspire any pain. Rather, it felt like a wound being sewn shut, flesh knitted together, a sword in a sheath, a sense of completeness so profound that he wished to weep.

Oh.

“There you are,” Jace panted, a wry turn to his lips before his hips eased back.

A hand cradled his jaw as they laid, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Blood upon their skin, sharing the same dewy breath.

One flesh, one heart, one soul…

The motion of Jacaerys’ hips was fluid, they beat against him as wrathful as the gale upon the sea. Every wave threatened to drag him under. Devastatingly beautiful.

Lucerys gasped, mouth agape as his brother’s eyes stared into his. Jacaerys’ hips pumped, large cock pushing and pulling his insides; molding him anew.

There was a harmony to it, the creaking of the bed, the crackling of the logs, the wet rhythm of Jacaerys’ hips colliding with his. The blood-red canopy above the bed quivered like a razed kingdom behind his husband’s silver head.

He dug frantic nails into the muscle of his brother’s back. He felt power. True power rippling beneath his fingertips.

The broad tip of his brother’s manhood found the raised flesh tucked away within his walls upon every thrust; pleasure spiraled and screamed within him.

Jacaerys’ grip tightened around his jaw. He began to lose track of what limbs were his and which were not.

Barely-there breasts bounced with every thrust, grazing his brother’s muscled chest. His nipples pebbled stiff as they scraped against Jacaerys, the sensation worsening the tension that tangled in his belly.

His quim fluttered, each pulse yearned to draw his husband deeper.

Lucerys dug a heel into the flexing muscle of his husband’s buttocks, urging him faster.

He mewled. Beyond words. Thrashing to bare his neck; recalcitrant and desperate. That only made Jacaerys fuck him harder.

Bloated stones, swollen with seed, slapped against Lucerys’ milk-white bottom.

Jacaerys’ free hand dug into the pliant flesh of Lucerys’ soft little bottom, urging his narrow hips to meet every harrowing plunge of Jace’s cock.

The wet lips of his quim, stretched thin, kissed the bulbous swell of Jacaerys’ knot upon every perfect union of their hips.

He urged his hips down, guided by his brother’s hand, yearning in a primal mania to have that knot inside of him.

The head of his brother’s cock kissed his womb, caressing that soft pink channel on every deep thrust.

His insides felt molten, like the flesh may slough off his bones at any moment. Like every cant of his brother-husband’s hips urged a tongue of dragonfire to lap at that sacred place. The place he yearned to have filled.

Jacaerys offered the dripping length of his tongue and Lucerys suckled upon it readily, filled by him so completely.

He anchored himself to his husband, nails caught upon the rippling muscle of his back.

He has no words left to give, save for a garbled string of “please”.

“Are you close, my love?”

Jacaerys asked, voice little more than a growl, his forehead pressed to Luke’s.

Lucerys thrashed at the delicious torment of his building release, tears streamed down his cheeks. He was close, horrendously so.

His husband’s lips found his, drinking deeply of his anguish.

The cadence of his husband’s thrust had grown all the more ardent in response. The very bed seemed to quake. Yet all he could see was Jacaerys, the silver of his hair, the violet of his eyes, Lucerys’ own blood painted upon his skin…

“Please!” Lucerys cried out, drunk upon the scent of white oak and an open flame, burning with a longing writ in their shared blood upon his very bones. Stripped of all constraints and vanity, he was simply an Omega in dire need of his Alpha.

When he arched his neck, his husband hadn’t the will to refuse a second time. He mouthed at the spot that so dearly needed attention, he adored it with his lips and tongue.

Each thrust fucked him so deeply into the rich, sweat-soaked featherbed. He arched, yowling at the unbearable sensation of his husband’s broad head at his womb.

“Once more, wife,” Jacaerys panted, breath hot as dragonfire ghosted along his lips, “come for me, brother. Shower me in your love.”

His bud was found and assaulted with the unrelenting press of sword-callused fingers; Urging him and higher.

And in a moment, he was undone, his release snapped like their chord of blood-red and gold and his world shook like all of Dragonstone would fall apart around them. His release gushed from his stretched-wide quim, drenching his husband and the bedding further. Jacaerys growled a deeply pleased guttural sound, his hips continued to pump into the squelching mess of Lucerys’ dripping sex, the firm grip of his hand cradled Lucerys’ jaw, forbidding him from looking elsewhere, at anything but Jacaerys.

He could only watch as a trembling look of awe passed over his husband’s face.

Jace’s hips surged forward and Luke bowed off of the bed at the undeniable ache of his husband’s knot popping inside. The thick head pressed against the slender pink opening of Lucerys’ womb. His thighs shook. Teeth were at his neck, kissing then breaking the skin. The bite was clean and perfect and unifying. Lucerys cried out towards the blood-red canopy above them. In that moment he saw a burst of color behind his eyes: the endless rainbow of their combined dragonfire. A third sharp release was upon him; brief and blinding. His cocklet spurted weakly, his quim clenched, milking the fattened bulb of his Alpha’s knot. A desperate whine fell from his lips as he felt it begin to swell. They were tied now, irrefutably: in body and blood.

His unspooling mind retreated to their vows once more as his brother’s seed distended the concave of his belly —— one flesh, one heart, one soul.

A rumbling purr started in his chest and his fingers wound through Jacaerys’ silver hair of their own volition. It was an intrinsic need as primal as the ache to purr, was the need to touch his brother. His husband. His mate.

He became prey pinned beneath his Alpha. His toes curled in atavistic delight.

He felt unbearably whole like he had found his missing piece.

When his brother’s lips inevitably withdrew from the fresh site of Lucerys’ bondmark, he was overcome with the bone-deep urge to weep. Yet, Jacaerys soothed him with a low, nearly musical flange of his subvocals that said, ‘Rest easy, little brother. I am here.’ Lucerys felt the spike of pacifying pheromones filling his frantic hindbrain, putting him promptly at ease. He felt the press of an aquiline nose to his temple, gentle and familiar. He fought his body's need to fall slack and submissive, instead twisting stubbornly upon the bed if only to feel the tug of his Alpha’s knot keeping them tied. A satisfied prickle of overstimulated tears stung his eyes. A dutiful tongue lapped at the slow ooze of blood from the site upon his neck.

A tug persisted at the base of his skull. A nascent thing through which all flowed. Their bond.

There was no word so apt for his current state other than claimed. Even still, adrift within the overwhelming emotion of it all, Lucerys sought some semblance of assurance; some logic to the disorder Jacaerys had made of him.

His mind scrabbled for clarity, despite how his eyelids drooped and his limbs curled into the preternatural heat of his Alpha’s body, wrapped in the woodsy aroma of white oak and the bittersweet bite of an open flame.

He fell deeper still into a place so utterly content as an aquiline nose and warm lips nuzzled fondly at his hairline. It was not long until whisps of vanilla and browned butter roamed in fragrant curls from his sweat-slicked skin.

“I’ll be going soon,” Lucerys said amidst a yawn as firm fingers pressed warm divots into the underside of his thigh.

“Going where, precisely?” Jacaerys asked, indolent, but displeased. The emotion trickled over, like rainwater through a leaking roof. Lucerys frowned at the feeling.

He thought of propriety, of what he’d been taught of formal marriages such as theirs.

“To my own chambers, husband,” Lucerys informed, though he hadn’t the strength to lift his head while he spoke.

“I could use the rest,” he added sweetly, knowing an Alpha’s ego was utterly in want of stroking.

Jacaerys exhaled through his nose before Lucerys felt its straight bridge touch the upturned curl of his own.

“Mm,” his Alpha hummed, “then rest.”

Longing poured over as a hand settled at the dip in Lucerys’ waist where they lay.

“You are my wife now, Lucerys. My chambers are yours.”

Curious, he thought to himself.

It brought to mind a memory formerly lost to him…

“Let me in!” Lucerys demanded in a nasally whisper, lips pressed to the crack in the door.

“Jace-”

The door budged far enough for him to catch the gleam of his elder brother’s silver-gold hair and he felt a swell of victory.

“I can’t let you in, Luke. Mother will have my head-”

“She will not! Oh, Jace, she won’t catch us. She never does.”

Jacaerys’ face twisted in a conflicted expression, but in his heart, Lucerys knew he had won. The door swung open and Lucerys rushed inside. His hand clasping with his brother’s pulling him towards the bed.

“You mustn’t make a sound, hm?” Jacaerys warned, a finger held to Luke’s lips.

Lucerys nodded giddily.

“I won’t. I promise.”

As the memory faded, Lucerys found himself unbearably drowsy, his head pressed to a strong chest, his cold little feet tucked to the backs of warm knees, as familiar as the lines traversing his palms.

I had mastered you once brother, he thought to himself as he squirmed closer into the cage of his husband’s arms, I can do it again.

#my writing #jaceluke #jaceluke agenda #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #dark jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys x lucerys #hotd fanfic

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destroyerofnations92 · 3 months

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Chapter two of the girl in the green dress was posted on my Patreon. If you like Team Black and/or Daemyra stories, go take a look! There is a one-week free trial for all prospective patrons.

*****************

Why would Alicent do this? What did she have to gain by purposely arriving late to his daughter’s betrothal feast? Making matters even worse, she wore that blasted green gown despite the seamstresses having crafted her a nigh-invaluable dress in the colours of House Targaryen on Viserys’ command—to show the Kingdoms they stood united as a House and as a dynasty, as the king had informed his lady wife the supper after it was delivered to her.

By wearing her family’s colours, his consort had openly declared allegiance to her father’s house over her husband’s—a grave insult on its own. Making matters even worse was the colour. King Viserys prayed that none might take this as a declaration of war upon Rhaenyra—even if Alicent might have meant it as such. After all, green is what the beacon burned when the Hightower called its banners to war.

Viserys could not understand where Alicent got the audacity to do such a thing, nor why. Unlike her banished father, his lady wife had never felt the need to try and advance her son’s position. Where Otto had tried to convince him multiple times that for the good of the realm Aegon should be named heir, his queen consort had always kept quiet. While she did not oppose her father’s words, she did not openly support them either. This was an abrupt escalation and it baffled the king.

The king’s eyes flitted around the throne room as his consort painstakingly slowly made her way toward the high table, where the Targaryens and Velaryons sat. Many seemed displeased with her actions—giving Viserys a tentative measure of peace—though others seemed amused or downright pleased.

The Lannister blowhard was smirking widely, no doubt still insulted that he was not chosen as Rhaenyra’s consort and at the king’s harsh dressing down of him at Aegon’s second name day celebrations. The Hightower contingent was the most pleased with their scion’s loud and unsubtle signal. Alicent had allowed herself to be turned into a symbol of her father’s ambitions and her familial house’s greed. Viserys understood now why Lord Hobert and his kin wore green that eve, despite it not being their house colours—his queen had conspired with her Hightower kin behind his back.

Viserys was pleased to see that both the Vale and the North were properly annoyed at the display. As was his great-uncle, who was looking at his wife as if she was vermin. The king could not proclaim to have ever had a close relationship with Lord Boremund Baratheon, his father and then Viserys becoming heir had made that nigh impossible for Rhaenys was his niece—born of his beloved sister’s womb. Nonetheless, he had remained a loyal vassal, and as such it gladdened Viserys that House Baratheon would continue that tradition.

The high table was silent—none dared to speak. Rhaenyra seemed to be in shock at Alicent’s inexplicable actions, while the Velaryons were outright insulted. It was the sudden screeching of a chair and its harsh banging on the floor as it was thrown back that had many tear their gazes away from the queen consort, who had paused at the violent sound, and turned it to the high table.

Predictably it was Daemon who had decided to make a ruckus, though the rage upon his face was something Viserys had never witnessed before. The Rogue Prince swiftly marched toward the king, bypassing the Hand and the empty chair of the freshly arrived queen, and grabbed Viserys by the upper arm, jostling him around, “What are you going to do about this mockery aimed at your daughter?”

Though Daemon whispered, to Viserys it felt like a shout. The king was unable to answer, instead merely stuttering an insufficient reply, “I… I don’t,” Viserys furrowed his brows in confusion. No full sentence seemed willing to be spoken. It was almost as if all reason or thought had left him in the face of his brother’s fiery rage.

“Either you intervene or I shall. Your Andal whore has spat upon your heir, humiliating her for all to see! At her wedding no less!” Daemon whispered-hissed in his ear whilst still painfully gripping his arm, “You must ensure none see her little rebellion as viable.”

Viserys wished to protest but mayhaps for the first time in his life, he was frightened of his brother and loudly winced at the pain he was inflicting upon him—Daemon had never physically harmed him before.

When the king did nought, his brother let out the harshest and most guttural noise of disgust before harshly pushing him down in his chair, “You are so pathetically weak. Making you king was the gravest error I ever made, for the insult I levied onto the Gods that day by raising up a toothless dragon is unforgivable.”

Slouched in his chair, the fifth Lord of the Seven Kingdoms watched from his throne chair as his brother marched down the dais toward Queen Alicent. Though all stood, as etiquette and tradition dictated, none seemed willing to intervene and stop the enraged dragon from approaching their queen consort.

It did not take long before he arrived where Alicent stood frozen, staring at the feral dragon with wide eyes, and with an open-handed smack to her face, Daemon dropped her to the ground.

#patreon #fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #world of westeros #house of the dragon #game of thrones #fix it #team black #fuck the greens #anti team green #anti alicent hightower #anti hightowers #daemon defense squad #daemon is rhaenyra's biggest champion #fix it fanfiction #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #alternate universe #non canonical character deaths

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countrymusiclover · 1 year

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Ch 24 - Rhaenyra’s Crown

Part 25

Fire Of A Stark

@dragonixfrye

I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit.

I, Lord Hobert Hightower, Beacon of the South, Defender of the Citadel, and Voice of Oldtown, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra.

I, Boremund Baratheon... promise to be faithful to King Viserys…

I, Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North…

Reading over the documented coronation of the black queen they called her I was sitting on one of the beds inside the abandoned dragon castle. Footsteps came closer to the door before Jaime came inside, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the bed seeing my head buried in a book reminding him for a second like his brother because I didn't look up until he sat down making the bed dip at his weight. "I would have thought you had finished that book, little dragon."

"I found a whole library full of them that someone had transported here before the fall of the house. But this is the end of the one your brother gave me. I still have a bunch of pages of Vayarin to learn. But listen to this, I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name... King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name...Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

He leans back on his palms nodding his head at me. "If you think she wants you to become the queen then why aren't you wearing her crown?"

"Because no one can know my true blood except you." Lifting my gaze up from the pages I eyed the object across the room sitting on a dresser with a dusty mirror.

He placed his left hand over my right shifting my gaze to focus on my lord husband as he softly declared. "You don't have to hide anymore. I swore that to you back in King's Landing. The men that are following us to the rock are loyal to my house. They shall serve whatever command we give to them. So you can show your natural hair." He moved his hand up, threading his fingers through my brown hair.

"Jaime, it's sweet that you think that's an option but we - I can't possibly-" He cuts me off resting a hand to my cheek making me look him in the eye before he kisses me quickly.

"Stop worrying, Lynesse. No better yet fuck worry. Fuck anyone who wants to come after you because I will protect you. Targaryens may not rule anymore but you'll be my queen from this day until the end of our days." He rose to his feet striding over and picking up the golden crown coming back over to me. "I may not be a king and I am not very good at being a Lord. But I name you my queen Lynesse Targaryen-Lannister."

Sucking in a breath I could hardly believe it. Here I have been thinking that someday he would come to see that all Targaryen blood acted the same and that he would kill me but he doesn’t seem that way. He may not ever truly love me yet he trusts me enough to let me live by his side. “Jaime I…I’m not queen material.”

“You are to me, Lynesse.” He declared gently sitting the golden crown on top of my head pushing some of my hair down and took a step back. “You can be who you truly are around me.”

Rising to my feet I rushed forward flinging my arms around his neck where he stumbled a little wrapping his arms around my waist holding me close to his chest. Lifting my head up the crown actually doesn't fall off my head like I thought it might. "A white haired Targaryen might give a Lion some trouble. Can you handle that hmm?"

"This Lion will learn to handle dragon fire." He smirked tugging me closer making me giggle before I jumped up trying to wrap my arms around his waist but I felt a sharp pain in my back before I felt like I needed to throw up again. Holding my stomach I rushed towards the pot puking with my hair falling in front of my face.

Jaime came over, moving it out of the way, hearing me struggling to catch my breath after that. When I had thrown up in the weeks prior to this one we were sailing until we reached land so we both assumed it was sea sickness since I had never been outside of Winterfell until the king road North. But the fact that it was happening on land meant something else we just weren't sure yet. "Find me a Maester, Jaime…"

"I don't want to leave you here like this. Can you walk with me?" He was concerned about me while resting his golden hand on my back searching my eyes.

Sucking in a breath I croaked out intertwining my freehand with his right arm. "I'm alright…but something is definitely different."

Together Jaime and I slowly moved through the castle passing some of the guards that had been on the boat with us. We had decided that we would give the men a rest before we made the truck back towards Casterly Rock since there wasn’t any real good food or other supplies kept in this castle. From the looks of it no one had been here since the fall of the Mad King. Seeing as everyone in the world thinks the Targaryens are all gone. Finally we found the room that we had given to a Maester that had traveled with us. “Maester, my wife is still throwing up.” Jaime exclaimed, helping me sit down on the bed in front of the older man.

“Let’s have a look, my lady.” He replied, coming to stand in front of me. He placed his hands on my stomach looking me up and down before asking a question I should have been prepared for. “When was the last time you’ve bled. Lady Lannister?”

Stuttering out a response I couldn’t really remember when. Tyrion’s trial had kept my mind busy more than anything. “I can’t remember to be honest sir.”

“Well if you are having morning sickness like this and haven’t bled in the last few weeks we have been on this trip then I must congratulate you both my lord, my lady. You are pregnant.” He spoke shifting his gaze up from me then to Jaime. “I’ll give you two a few moments alone.”

Once he left my hands dropped to my stomach grinning ear to ear. My hair falling over my shoulders I turned my head in the direction of Jaime. I couldn’t imagine what was running through his head but it would be my first child. One that would be both Lannister and Targaryen blood. “Jaime, we’re going to have a child. Our first child. We’re going to have a child.”

Jaime was frozen in his own thoughts about what the old man had said moments ago. He never thought he would ever become lord of the rock and bear children. And even the ones he had conceived with Cersei were never truly his. “I’m going to be a father, Lynesse…I’m going to be a father.”

“You’re right I am done hiding, let's go show them their true Lady Lannister.” Rising to my feet I grabbed his forearm leading him back to our chambers. Bursting through the doors I softly removed Rhaenyra’s crown, getting my hair completely wet removing the brown dye that named me Stark. Coming back into our bedroom Jaime was seated on the edge of the bed holding the crown in his left hand locking eyes with me.

Running my hands through my hair even though it was still dripping wet you could see the white coming through much stronger than the dark color. Wearing one of my gray tunic shirts and red trousers with boots I walked over attaching my sword to my hip moving to stand in front of Jaime once again when he rose to his feet. He lifts the crown sitting it back on my head slowly dropping his hands at his sides before I blurted out the words I never thought I would. “Jaime, I don’t expect you to say it back but I think I am falling in love with you. Throughout everything we have been through you have never forced me to be something I am not. You have vowed to protect me and..I have no doubt that you will this child, our child. Just know that some part of me is falling in love with you.”

“You’re right I can’t say it yet but I’ll show you close to that, my dragon queen.” He tugged me into his chest, crashing his lips down onto mine deeply. I jumped up wrapping my legs around his waist as he held me up with his real and golden hand, never breaking the kiss. My hands found themselves in his short hair when he spun us around gently letting us fall back onto the bed. My hair sprawled out underneath me while I pushed him off removing the crown and my shirt sitting the object on the table. Jaime removed his shirt before I pulled him in for a long kiss that would lead to many more in the night to come.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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stromuprisahat · 9 months

Text

On the third day of the third moon of 129 AC, Princess Helaena brought her three children to visit with the king in his chambers. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, were six years old, their brother, Maelor, only two. His Grace gave the babe a pearl ring off his finger to play with, and told the twins the story of how their great-great-grandsire and namesake Jaehaerys had flown his dragon north to the Wall to defeat a vast host of wildlings, giants, and wargs. Though the children had heard the story a dozen times before, they listened attentively. Afterward the king sent them away, pleading weariness and a tightness in his chest.

The Rogue Prince, or, A King’s Brother & Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

I'm curious why did HotD writers decided to portray Viserys as absent, neglectful father to his Green children, when I don't remember any mention of his paternal qualities, aside from insistence on the order of succession. And he literally dies after playing with his grandchildren by those children he allegedly did NOT care about.

#ASoIaF #Fire & Blood #ch: Heirs of the Dragon: A Question of Succession #The Rogue Prince #House of the Dragon #Viserys I Targaryen #Helaena Targaryen #Jaehaerys Targaryen (twin)#Jaehaera Targaryen #Maelor Targaryen #valyrianscrolls #books #quotes #GRRM #V #HotD critical

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janiedean · 2 years

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idk about book daemon but show daemon and viserys have excellent sibling vibes.

daemon constantly going on about how his brother is an idiot but the moment corlys was like yes, i agree, he's like SHUT UP ONLY I CAN MAKE FUN OF MY BROTHER

and viserys could exile him a 100 times but daemon would show up whenever he felt like it anyway and viserys is like ugh ok fine whatever you can have a room and when people are like daemon wants to be king he'll overthrow you and viserys is just??? no he's just my kid brother who can be idiot at time???? what are you talking about???

and the last episode where daemon helps him up because he's seen viserys at his best and his weakest and he can see how much he's struggling and it's breaking his heart to see him like this but goddammit if viserys wants to sit the throne for his daughter he's gonna back him up and viserys not wanting anyone's help but then he sees it's his brother and he lets him and no one else near to help him go up and wear the throne

help i have feelings 😭

they had them in the book as well but again as tv!viserys >>>> book!viserys it's just WAY MORE FEELS INDUCING T____T AND LISTEN THE SCENE WHERE HE HELPED HIM PUT ON THE CROWN DESTROYED ME IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD I JUST T____T anf klgdkjlslsdgjlsdjkg the rest is just so completely on point i'm cry I KNOW ANON I KNOW

#anonymous #ask post #ch: viserys i targaryen #ch: daemon targaryen #house of the dragon spoilers for ts #I KNOWWWWWW T_T

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