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#dragons of summer flame
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Dragons of Summer Flame Cover Art by Larry Elmore
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kaerinio · 3 months
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thinking about dragonstone! thinking about dany sitting at the painted table in the raised seat, her legs tucked beneath her! thinking about the dragons flying freely as they explore their new home because dragons have always thrived on dragonstone!
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theabode · 2 years
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sapphire-writes · 9 months
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My Dragon ~ Aemond x wife!Reader
warnings: mentions of Aemond's eye injury, some angst & fluff
word count: 1.0k
note: pure fluffy dad!Aemond goodness! was stuck on this idea for a while, hope you enjoy this little piece!
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You returned to your chambers after a long day, desperate for nothing more than a long, hot bath and the soft furs of the bed you shared with your husband. You had spent the day with your good sister Helaena. Though once only sisters through friendship, you were truly sisters now after the marriage to her younger brother. 
As you opened the doors to your chambers, it was unusually quiet. You closed the door behind you, listening to the crackling of the hearth. You spot the back of Aemond’s head, seated on the settee facing the dancing flames. His head is angled downwards; no doubt he has stayed up late with his nose in a book as you often find him. 
Though he never admits it after the fact, you’d caught him on more than one occasion fast asleep on the settee or in his chair, a book open-faced in his lap. 
You smile softly as you approach, careful not to startle him. 
“My love…” you call softly, to which Aemond turns his head. 
He purses his lips slightly, bringing a hand to his mouth shushing you. Your eyebrows concave together in confusion, which ebbs as you walk closer. Aemond has forgotten his usual book this evening; instead, your sleeping daughter rests her head on his lap, fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. 
Her silver curls are splayed every which way, her nose whistling with every breath she exhales. 
“It is late my love,” you playfully tease, keeping your voice a low whisper so as not to wake her.
“I know,” Aemond says, his voice just as soft, “We lost track of time.”
You smile, walking behind him to place your hands on his shoulders. Though only in her fourth year of life, your little dragon has the Targaryen prince wrapped around her little finger. Aemond brings a hand to rest on top of yours, pulling it from his shoulder and pressing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. 
“Did you have a nice time?” he murmurs against the back of your hand, his breath causing gooseflesh to appear. 
You hum in response. “I did. You know how I enjoy spending time with Helaena. Though I must admit, my legs do ache.”
You had spent most of the day walking through the gardens with the princess, helping her add to her collection of curious creatures and oddities. You loved Helaena’s hobbies and were more than happy to indulge her. But the day was long under the hot summer sun, and it left you eager for bed. 
“Shall I call for someone to draw you a bath?” Aemond asks as you lean to rest your chin on his shoulder.
“It tis alright,” you assure him, “Do not trouble yourself.”
“It is no trouble, you know this,” he insists, glancing at you sideways. You made sure to rest upon the shoulder where he can see you with his functioning eye. 
You remove your hand from him, caressing the leather eyepatch he wears. 
“You must be uncomfortable,” you tell him softly, stroking the worn leather. It begins to irritate him on days such as this one when the heat causes the leather to chafe the skin of his cheek. 
The weather is strange these days, getting so hot during the day and then dropping significantly during the night. Aemond’s violet eye flickers down at your sleeping child. How perfect she looks, the perfect combination of both of you. A miracle made of your love. You sense his hesitation.
“She shall not be afraid, my love,” you assure him.
“How can you know?” he says, looking down away from your comforting gaze. 
Aemond had always been fearful of how others reacted to his injury. You remembered in your youth before he had begun courting you, how you’d learned of why he wore the patch. It was Helaena who informed you that Aemond wished to not frighten the ladies of the court.
“Prince Aemond should not wish for a weak stomached woman anyhow,” you had snapped, as other ladies had snickered at his injury. “Women say they wish to marry a warrior, then faint at the scars from battle. How distasteful.” 
Helaena had told Aemond how you’d come to his defense. You’d been the apple of the Prince’s eye ever since. Well, until the birth of your little one. Two women now completely owned the dragon prince’s heart. 
“A mother’s intuition,” you assure him, moving to remove the patch. Aemond freezes for a moment but relaxes into your touch as you place the eyepatch on the table, revealing his magnificent sapphire. 
You stroke your finger along the scar, admiring how the sapphire reflects the light from the hearth. 
“My dragon,” you murmur, cupping his sharp chin in your hand, and pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred tissue. 
Aemond sighs, his chest rumbling. You can see a flicker of desire in his violet eye at your praise. Your daughter stirs then, perfect face scrunching as her pale lashes flutter open. She looks up at you with wide violet eyes before throwing her small arms around your neck.
“Muña!” she says sleepily, arms heavy around your neck. 
“Hello my love,” you softly croon, pulling her completely into your arms, “How was your day?”
She buries her face into the crook of your neck and you inhale the lilac scent of her hair. How you enjoy the moments with your companions, but oh how you miss your daughter by the end.
“We went exploring all day! And we went flying on Vhagar,” she chatters away, “Sunfyre even joined us! Kepus flew right next to us!”
“Did he now?” you ask with a chuckle. Aegon was a surprisingly delightful uncle. 
Aemond stands then, still facing slightly away. You reach for his hand, pulling him closer. Your daughter looks at him, the smile never leaving her face. Aemond turns his head slowly, revealing the scarred tissue and brilliant sapphire. You hold your breath, waiting for your little girl’s reaction. 
She stares, unblinking, before reaching out to touch his face. 
“Blue is my favorite color,” she informs, turning back to you, “Did you know Sunfyre likes to sing? I don’t think Vhagar enjoys singing, her songs are rather deep. It shakes the windows of the Keep! Muñāzma was quite cross with her!”
You glance at your husband, watching his cheeks turn red. You smile so brightly that your cheeks begin to ache. There was never anything for him to fear. She adores him all the same.
As do you.
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wlntrsldler · 21 days
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iii. you come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannonball. now all we know is don’t let go. | luke castellan | state of grace
seventeen-year-old luke castellan returns from his failed quest and wonders if he's good enough for you.
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seventeen-year-old luke castellan came face-to-face with death but against his better judgment, and the medical advice from lee who told him to lay in bed and heal, he stood up to drag himself across the floors of the infirmary to sit beside the bed where you were unconscious. 
thankfully, you were going to be okay. it would just take a few hours for the medicine to kick in until you regain consciousness. it was luke who took the brunt of the attack. he can feel the sticky bandages covered in his blood across his back and his face. luke managed to prop himself up on the small wooden chair. 
he’d grown taller and bigger over the years and the chair was definitely not the most comfortable place for him, especially not with all his wounds, but he had to make do. he couldn’t stay on his bed, across the way from you while you slept alone. in the off chance that you’ll wake up before the 5-hour estimate they’d given him about the medicine, he didn’t want you to wake up without someone next to you. 
you weren’t even supposed to be there. he didn’t even know how you’d found him, but he should’ve known better when you looked at him with that look in your eye, the look that he got from you whenever you were about to save him from something, even if he didn’t know he’d be in trouble yet. you always seemed to show up just when he needed you– like his own personal guardian angel. 
he thought back to when he was fourteen and you let him tag along with you, oliver, and beth to the athena cabin because you noticed he was anxious to be left alone. you didn't even know what he'd gone through then, but you somehow knew exactly what to say, what to do.
he thought of his first full summer at camp. he'd just turned fifteen, before he was named head counselor, and he accidentally set the shed that the satyrs used to house their gardening tools on fire. the stolls managed to sneak in fireworks and the three of them thought the perfect welcome for the summer campers was a firework show. he wandered into the shed in search of a lighter and found one tucked underneath a tablecloth, probably left by one of the older campers when they smoked.
between him and his siblings, they shared one and a half brain cells so he, stupidly, tried the lighter while he peeked his head under the tablecloth and the whole thing erupted in flames before he could even react. thankfully, you were already out looking for him when you noticed he slipped away from dinner.
you helped him put the fire out before it got too bad and paid for the damage with the few drachmas you had saved up. luke managed to pay you back after picking up random tasks for campers for a small fee, although, you argued with him that it was okay, that he didn't owe you anything, but at that point, luke figured he owed you much more than just a few drachmas.
chiron and mr. d ended up loving the idea of the fireworks show and asked who was responsible for the festivities. you stood up and pointed at him, grinning like you were happy he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. he didn't think he deserved the credit, it would've ended in a shitshow if it weren't for you.
he was promoted to head counselor a week later.
luke fell asleep hunched over your sleeping body, sleeping on the side of his face without the fresh scar. he woke up to the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp a few hours later. he sat up, immediately holding your hand between his own. 
“you’re up,” he croaked out, rubbing the tears away from his eyes, “how are you, angel?” 
“feelin’ great, bub,” you faked a smile, exhaustion evident on your features. “how are you? you’re the one who got attacked by a dragon.” 
luke flinched at the memory, holding your hand up to his lips, “don’t worry about me. i’m good.” 
“let me worry about you, hm?” you mumbled. “i’m always worried about you.” 
“you shouldn’t have been there,” he sighed. his anger against his father was rising again. “it was my quest. you’re not even allowed to go on other people’s quests anymore, remember?” 
“you’re dumb if you think i was going to let you go into a suicide mission alone, luke,” you replied. you moved over on the small bed, motioning him to join you. “needed to make sure you were gonna be okay.” 
“i don't want that if it's at your expense,” he mumbled, following your request. you laid your head on his chest, allowing him to push you closer to him. his hands found the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, “don’t know what i would’ve done if you–” 
he couldn’t finish his sentence. he didn’t want to think about it. he let himself be delusional, ignoring the reality of being a demigod. luke wanted to beat the odds with you, get out of here with you, mostly unscathed. he didn’t want to think about a life without you in it. he couldn’t. 
“hey, it’s okay,” you placed his hand over your heart, letting him feel it beat. “i’m okay, see?” 
your optimism was something luke admired about you. the way you viewed life like a gift despite everything you'd gone through. he wished he could see things the way you did, but he didn't understand it.
he looked at you, thinking of how you'd just risked your life for him, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling so hopeless. this was not the life you deserved.
he let out a breath, turning to face the ceiling, “i don’t understand how you’re not furious at the gods right now.” 
“there’s so many horrible things to be angry at, luke,” you whispered, placing a kiss on his bruised hands. “i’m mad at the gods for allowing this to happen to all of us, their children. i am angry luke, but i have been given so much because of it, too.” 
he stayed silent, letting you continue. he felt his breaths even out as he listened to the sound of your voice. 
“i grew up as an only child until i met my siblings. now, i love them. i can’t imagine not knowing them,” you smiled, “the rest of the campers, they can be a handful sometimes, but there isn’t a boring day in my life. there’s always adventure and fun and love.” 
luke turned to look at you to find that you were already staring at him. even in the dark, he can make out the look on your face. that face that made him feel safe so effortlessly. 
“i met you because of them,” you continued, placing a soft kiss on his lips, trying not to put too much pressure on him knowing he was still healing, “there are so many things i am angry at the gods for, but knowing you… well, it makes up for it, don’t you think?” 
he didn’t know if he had a complex enough vocabulary or if there were any words in any language that could scratch the surface of how he felt about you. you were in every part of him. he thought of you, your eyes when he woke up to the sun shining on his face, bright and hopeful because there was a new day ahead. he thought of you, your lips when he tasted the fruits they served during meals, sweet and addicting. he thought of you, your smile during his nightmares, safely pulling him back to reality, a life where you were there with him. 
it’s only been you since he met you. he had a feeling it’s only been you in every life he lived before this one. and it will only be you in every life after it. 
luke settled, “i love you.” 
“i love you,” you replied, kissing him once more. “let’s rest now, hm? want to be able to kiss you proper.” 
he couldn’t help but laugh, shutting his eyes as his body succumbed to the tiredness in his limbs, “me too.” 
lee fletcher found you two tangled in the covers, sleeping soundly, when he entered the infirmary the morning after. usually, he’d scold his patients for disobeying orders, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the rules right now, not when you and luke looked so peaceful sleeping beside each other. 
word about luke’s failed quest spread quickly after your return. the looks of pity were starting to get to luke. you noticed that he’d been distant, too, opting to not let you clean up his scars when he replaced the bandages. he only went in to see lee when he knew the infirmary was absolutely clear of people. he stopped letting you touch his face and run your hands down his back. at first, you chalked it up to the fact that he was healing and the wounds probably still hurt to the touch, but after a conversation with lee, where you slyly asked how luke’s healing process was going, you knew it wasn’t that anymore. 
lee let you know that the wounds were healing faster than anticipated. new tissue was replacing his damaged ones and that the cream he prescribed luke would ensure that the scars would be faint, noticeable, but not as intense as they could’ve been. you walked away from your conversation with the boy with your shoulders sagged and your smile a little less bright. there was something else going on with luke and he wasn’t telling you about it. 
when luke returned to the hermes cabin, tired from his three-hour-long training, he expected the cabin to be empty with all his siblings away at the campfire, but instead, he found you, tidying up around the area of his bed. he shut the door quietly, hoping to have a few moments where he could just admire you. 
he’d been avoiding you more than usual so he hadn’t gotten the chance to spend as much time with you as he’d liked to. he doesn’t remember the last time he hugged you longer than a quick side hug before he was jogging to move onto his next activity or the last time he’d been able to have a conversation with you about something other than counselor duties. luke missed you. he missed you a lot, but he felt so disgusted with himself that he couldn't bring himself to be in your presence. 
the scars were healing fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d think he was hideous and weak and a failure. it seemed like everyone else at camp did, anyway. the scar on his face stretched from his eye all the way down to his jaw. every time he looked in the mirror, it reminded him of what he wasn’t able to do, of what he put you through. it made him sick to remember it. 
the wounds on his back started on his shoulder blades and ended in the middle of his spine. it wasn’t a good look. not even all his trainings and his workouts to get his back defined could hide the scar. 
his wounds were now the first thing people noticed when they saw him. he hated it. 
he wasn’t naive enough to believe that he was the most attractive guy in the world, but at least before the quest, he felt like he was average. he was tall enough, built adequately, and he wasn’t terrible to look at. but now, it felt like he was knocked down a few pegs. if he thought he didn’t deserve you back then, he sure as hell knew he didn’t deserve you now. 
he watched you fluff his pillows and fold his blankets before he decided to make himself known. he walked over to you, placing a quick kiss on the back of your head, before walking to his dresser to pull out his clothes for bed. 
“been waiting for you,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his torso. you gently placed your head on his back, listening to the sound of his breaths pick up. “where have you been?” 
“training,” he replied, removing your arms from him. you placed your head so close to his wounds and he was sure you could feel the bumps of his flesh through his thin camp shirt. “why aren’t you at the campfire?” 
you frowned, sitting on his bed, “because you weren’t there.” 
“you can still go and hang out with your friends,” he reasoned, directing his head at an awkward angle so you don’t see the scarred side of his face. the bandage on his face fell off a few hours ago. he forgot to stop by the infirmary to ask lee for some more.
“don’t wanna hang out with them right now, luke,” you said, eyebrows furrowed. “i want to hang out with you.” 
“i’m really tired right now, angel,” luke turned around again, pretending to dig through his drawers for something. he tilted his head low, hoping that his shadow would hide his face. “maybe tomorrow or something?” 
“okay,” you sounded defeated. luke heard his sheets ruffle from under you as you got up. he followed the sound of your footsteps all the way to the door. he waited for the sound of the door to open, but it never came. instead, it was your voice, hushed, “luke, i don’t understand.” 
he lifted his head, “huh?” 
“i said i don’t understand,” your voice was trembling. luke couldn’t help but face you then. your eyes welled up with tears, bottom lip quivering as you tried to speak. ���what’s going on with you?” 
luke clenched his jaw, “nothing.” 
“there’s something going on,” you rebutted, walking closer to him. you stopped in your tracks as he took a step back. you let the tears fall, “i can usually sense what’s going on with people but with you right now, i just can’t. i-it’s like i’m so blinded by how i feel about you that instead of understanding what’s going on with you, i can only focus on what i could’ve done wrong.” 
“you haven’t done anything wrong,” luke licked his lips, wanting nothing else but to hold you in his arms. he was fighting back the tears now, too. the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. he sniffled, “i’m just tired, angel.” 
“that’s never stopped you before,” you said. “even before we were dating, you always found me just for the sake of being with me. we'd talk nonsense until we lost our voices, and then we'd sit in silence together. you used to sit and wait in the back of the art room until my lesson was over just so we could come back here and be together until it was lights out.” 
“that was then.” 
“what changed?” you asked, voice hoarse. your tears were unstoppable now. you rubbed your eyes, trying to get a clearer vision of the boy in front of you. he was hidden in the shadows of the dim light. “do you.. do you not feel the same about me anymore?” 
“no, never that,” he shook his head, eyes wide. he tossed his clothes on his bed, stepping closer to you. “i love you, you know this.” 
“so come back to me, luke,” you cried, taking a tiny step closer to him. “come home to me.” 
luke groaned, falling to his knees. he buried his face in his hands, sobbing at your words. you ran to him, engulfing him in a hug, as his sobs shook his entire body. he mumbled incoherent words into his palms. 
“what is it, luke?” you asked him, peppering kisses on the crown of his head.
he took a deep breath, “i’m not ready for you to realize that i’m not good enough for you anymore. i’m not ready to lose you.” 
“oh my love,” you sighed, prying his hands away from his face. he turned his cheek, biting his bottom lip. you weren’t having it anymore. you grabbed his face in your hands forcing him to look at you, “what’s gotten into you?” 
“i know you see it,” he said, voice cracking. his eyes were focused on the wall behind you. “the scar. i know you see it.” 
“and?”
“it’s hideous, angel,” he confessed. a single tear rolled down his cheek. you were quick to wipe it away, “i know what people say about me now.” 
“is this what all of this was about?” you questioned, pressing your forehead to his.
luke closed his eyes. he missed you so much. “yes.” 
you removed your hands from his face and let your index finger trace the line down his scar. he sucked in a breath despite himself. he wanted to hide and shy away from you, your touch left him vulnerable and open, but he knew there was no need for that anymore. you pressed soft kisses all over his face, cradling his jaw in your palm. you kissed the lids of his eyes, the crease between his eyebrows, the points of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, until you got to his scar. 
you were even gentler now, luke didn’t know how it was possible. he could feel your lips ghosting over the raised flesh, apprehensive. he squeezed the skin of your hip, giving you the okay. with that, your lips touched his cheek, a kiss with purpose. 
luke shuddered at the feeling. why did he deprive himself of this? from the love in your touch and the emotions behind your actions? he pulled you closer, trying to make up for lost time. 
you sighed happily in his grasp, pulling yourself away from his cheek to place a kiss on his lips. all the air was knocked out of luke’s lungs. he’d kissed you a million times before, but this felt different. luke knew you loved him, you said it more than he deserved to hear it, and of course, he felt your love in everything that you did with him; in stolen touches in the middle of crowds, in corny jokes you made just to see him smile, in your words when you tell him he’s more than enough, but in this kiss, it was all of those moments, all of what you felt for him, amplified.
he couldn’t breathe. it was too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you, not when you were kissing him like this. not when you were anchoring him back to where he belonged. not when you were reminding him of everything he could have if he just let himself have it. 
eventually, you pulled away from him, tear-stained cheeks and pink, raw lips. luke thought you looked incredible. even after all this time, over a year of being together and over three years of knowing each other, your cheeks still flushed because of him. a small smile made its way to his lips, you still had that effect on him too. 
you got up from the floor, offering your hand to luke. he gladly accepted it and allowed you to lead him to his bed. you slipped off your shoes, your signature cartoon owl socks on full display as you laid on his bed. he joined you, pulling you close to his chest. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, fingers playing with the string of his camp necklace. 
the campfire was coming to an end and soon the cabin would be filled with his loud, rowdy, siblings, who he grew to love, but for now, he’ll get lost in this moment with you. he’ll wander aimlessly in this feeling, the feeling of his girl asleep on his chest, a hand over his heart to remind him that she's still here. he’ll let himself get lost for a few more minutes, after all, he’ll always find his way back home to you. 
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thesugarsoiree · 6 months
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Of Winter’s Flame | CHAPTER ONE
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What if Daemon Targaryen married Cregan Stark’s sister instead of Rhea Royce? What if instead of murdering her, she died in childbirth…giving birth to you.
Y/n Targaryen, a dragon raised by wolves. You grew up knowing only the North as your home, Cregan acting as your mentor and elder brother throughout your life.
Now you have been summoned to join the court of Viserys Targaryen a few years after the grueling incidents on Driftmark with no knowledge of why. A Stark rides South at the behest of a King.
What a familiar story.
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The reader has set physical features such as eye and hair colour. The reader's skin colour is left ambiguous/when described uses the phrase “s/c” aka “skin colour”.
This story contains canon-typical behaviors and scenes! Viewer discretion is advised!
Morgana Stark was said to be the finest beauty of the North, born years before Cregan Stark was even a whisper on her parents lips.
She was brown of hair, with soft features and steel-blue eyes which ensnared all who looked upon them. Morgana was a young girl of ten and two when she was betrothed by Queen Alysanne to Daemon Targaryen, the man being six years her senior when they were wed. They would not be made to consummate the marriage until summers later, but by then Daemon had already grown bored with his Northern bride.
Yes, she was beautiful, a fierce warrior, and well read enough that she took the time to learn the ancient language of his House; yet, that was not enough for the rogue prince. He needed more than the barren wastelands of the North, and so he abandoned her to return to the Crownlands.
Years passed and when he finally remembered his sweet Morgana he forced her to leave the North and join him, moving her Northern charm to the South.
It would not be long before Morgana was with child. After all, the seed of the dragon is strong. Morgana begged and pleaded with her husband to be allowed back to the North for her pregnancy, to be allowed back with her family and her people. Daemon pitied his poor Lady-wife and sent her North, but that would be the last time he would see her alive.
When Morgana arrived in Winterfell she became weak, her first pregnancy taking a toll on her body. Eventually Daemon received the raven that explained she could not be moved back down to Kingslanding due to her weakness, but he tossed it away all the same. Daemon had gotten his fun, he would not need her again for some time.
Morgana would die in her childbed nine months later, leaving behind one wish; that her child be taught the ways of both their people. So, her brown hair and steel-blue eyes were laid to rest, soft features covered in the stones of the Stark crypt.
But she brought Morgana back to life. Y/n Targaryen. She brought back her mother’s soft features and night-brown hair, her sweet smile and beauty-marked skin. The only thing she was unable to recreate was her mothers steel-blue eyes. Y/n had taken to her fathers instead, changing his smoky Indigo to a burning lilac.
Cregan Stark, the young boy he was, thought it was perfectly fine that his little niece was not collected by her father. He did not realize the disrespect of Daemon remarrying so quickly and not bothering to even write a letter acknowledging his only child. In fact, Cregan was thankful that Y/n was going to be staying with them permanently, he was excited to train her and teach her the ways of their house.
“My sweet little Y/n,” Cregan would sing, bouncing her around her nursery, “My sweetest little dragon.”
*
Y/n Targaryen grew into more of a Stark than anyone could have imagined. Her grandfather, Lord Rickon, did his best to fulfill his late daughter's wishes. He had brought in Maesters from the south to teach Y/n High Valyrian, and they had attempted to teach her the ways of her fathers family but try as they might the slippery Y/n always made her way back to her uncle. Cregan would sneak her into the forests around Winterfell and teach her how to strike prey with a bow, he would steal her from her lessons and read to her instead the stories of their ancestors.
“Tohrren Stark, he was the King who knelt. He did it to protect our people from Aegon the Conqueror.” Cregan whispered as the two crouched by candle-light, both technically meant to be in bed.
“Aegon…” Y/n breathed, caressing the page which depicted the moment Tohrren knelt for the future King. Cregan looked at Y/n, furrowing his brow at the young girl of eight years.
“Yes, he’s your blood as well; your father’s blood.” Cregan was honest with her, wiser in his years of ten and five. He knew she was beginning to pay attention a bit more to her maesters teachings, a child’s innocent curiosity getting the better of her.
“Does my father look like Aegon?” Y/n asked, lilac eyes staring at similar ones etched in ink.
“No, he is leaner than King Aegon was, and with longer hair…” Y/n nodded in understanding, flipping the page to see two detailed portraits of both Tohrren and Aegon.
“I can have his portrait brought up, if you’d like. We can put it next to your mothers in your chambers.” Cregan smiled although he despised the idea of Daemon Targaryen sitting next to his sweet sister on his niece's wall. Y/n’s eyes widened, a large grin spreading across her face.
“Truly?” Y/n gasped, sitting up straight.
“Yes, truly. Us Stark’s keep our promises.” Cregan puffed out his chest, ruffling Y/n’s dark hair. Y/n pushed him away with a giggle, crouching back down to read the book.
“Thank you, uncle.” Y/n hummed, and instead of looking towards the pages of the book Cregan looked at the way the light bounced off of her face; how in the dancing shadows he saw a glimpse of his sister beneath them.
*
“Tohrren, heel!” Y/n scolded her pup, the giant hound tripping over its large feet as it came to a halt.
“You have him well trained.” Cregan spoke, Y/n clutching her furs closer to her body.
“We have a sacred bond, him and I. Like that of Visenya and Vhagar!” Y/n scratched behind Tohrren’s ear, his tail beating the ground rapidly. In her elder years Y/n took a great interest in the warrior queen, reading binded Valyrian texts that Visenya had written in her youth.
“Come, a letter has arrived for you.” Cregan beckoned, Y/n following behind him at a steady pace, all while Tohrren watched her intently by her side. She had named him for Tohrren the Tall because of the great stature of his breed. When Cregan had inquired why not give him a Valyrian name Y/n had responded, ‘I am saving my favorite name for when I claim my own dragon’.
It was no surprise to anyone that Daemon had not placed an egg in Y/n’s cradle nor concerned himself with anything dragon-related thereafter. She was a Targaryen without a dragon, and in that family, it was a fate worse than death. Cregan had often wondered what it would be like in Winterfell with a dragon around, but dragons need fire to survive. The cold would have killed them, which is why Cregan refused the notion that Y/n was any less Stark than he was. No petty dragon could brave the forces of winter, and luckily for Y/n, she was raised by wolves.
“It is from the King?” Y/n blinked, opening King Viserys’ royal seal. Cregan looked over his niece's shoulder, reading the words as she did.
“He…he just wants a correspondence with me? To talk?” Y/n sputtered, rereading the letter. In all of her sixteen years her Targaryen family rarely visited her, never mind writing to her. She only got the occasional trip on dragon-back from Rhaenyra Targaryen, not even her own father.
“If the King wishes to speak with his niece, who are we to deny him?” Cregan shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging on Y/n’s lips as she knocked shoulders with him.
“The King wants to speak with me. Not about betrothals or silly court gossip, but about my life. He wants to understand me.” Y/n re-folded the letter, looking up at her uncle.
“I will be in my chambers writing back to him if you require me,” Y/n stood on her tip-toes and kissed Cregan’s cheek, his growing beard scratching against her lips, “I love you!” With that she called for Tohrren and scurried off to her rooms, leaving Cregan to do all the worrying.
It troubled him that Viserys was taking an interest in their shared niece. The King had never been interested before, so why now? Cregan hoped for Y/n’s sake that it was the incident at Driftmark which made the King contact her. Perhaps after the disaster of his immediate family Viserys was reaching out to what little he had left, no ill will behind it. No Queen behind it.
All Cregan could do was hope for the best and pray that the Old Gods protected his Y/n.
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morallyinept · 22 days
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A list of all my favourite JOEL MILLER Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.
PART 19
Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤
⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.
Illicit Affairs - @toomanystoriessolittletime
Lover, Share Your Road Series - @chronically-ghosted
Interloper - @marisferasiop Featuring Ezra
Flower - @aurorawritestoescape DDNE
Mornings Like These - @joelsgreys
Honey Beekeeper!Joel, Closer Artist!Joel & Every Man Gets His Wish PornStar!Reader - @joelsmochi
Caught & Taught - @intoanotherworld23
Discipline - @pedge-page Sub!Joel
Too Much - @corazondebeskar-reads Dark
Got My Mind On Your Body - @thetriumphantpandanotifs
Captive - @joelsgreys Raider!Joel
Hard Pill To Swallow - @cerridwen007
Comfort In His Arms & Love Amidst The Blue Series - @mermaidgirl30
For You, For Me - @swiftispunk
The Duke's Illicit Affair - @hellishjoel Duke!Joel
Amateur - @ezrasbirdie
Spring Prompts - Day 5 - @nerdieforpedro
Untitled Drabble, Sweet Days Of Summer & Between Two Lungs Featuring Tess Servopoulos - @ozarkthedog
Please, Mister, Please - @grogusmum
Proper Education Series - @itsokbbygrl Saltburn AU Joel
Turtle Doves Series - @unseededtoast
Desert Dust - @katiexpunk
Nylon Lust - @decembermidnight
Mine - @secretelephanttattoo Featuring Tess Servopoulos
That Summer Seemed To Last Forever - @blueeyesatnight
En El Mar - @magpiepills
Cabin Fever - @gutsby DDNE
Light The Flame - @yeollie-plz
Wildflowers & The Rite Of Movement Series PornStar!Joel Featuring Tommy Miller - @tightjeansjavi
Piss Kink Series 1, 2, 3, & 4 - @pedge-page Sub!Joel
Dance Away Your Cowboy Blues - @kedsandtubesocks CountrySinger!Joel
Morning Bliss - @aurorawritestoescape
Falling For You - @fhatbhabie PlusSize!Reader
When You Call My Name, I won't Answer - @vivian-pascal Stranger!Joel
Him. He. Joel - @undercoverpena
Wings, Fire, Magic Series - @mountainsandmayhem Dragon Trainer Joel AU
All Good Things - @criticallyacclaimedstranger
Ask Nice For It - @thetriumphantpanda BostonQZ!Joel
3:00 Special - @toxicanonymity Slasher!Joel
Take Me - @getitoutofmymindwrites
Able - @ladamedusoif Disabled F!Reader
3 Hours - @milla-frenchy
A Happy Man - @psychedelic-ink No Outbreak!Joel
A Flower In February - @missredherring
The Warmth Of Your Gaze, The Lingering Of Your Touch - @beskarandblasters Disabled F!Reader
The One You Need Series - @loliwrites Neighbour!Joel
Starving - @palioom
Clot - @luxurychristmaspudding
Your Heart, A Sonnet - @kedsandtubesocks Author!Joel
Sunshine & Honeymoonin' - @princessanglophile
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wolfie-1221 · 8 months
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some rhaenicent fic recommendations
grey ridge (ríl liatroma) by molter ( @molter-writes ) - married with kids; business drama; they’re sickeningly cute; arguably the best thing ive read in the fandom; 10 out of 10; read it like 6 times; if you haven’t read it dude what are you waiting for
ride the dragon (and do it quickly) by molter - the #roadtrip fix it 
love is complicated by molter - Alicent is an actress and Rhaenyra is her rich best friend; they idiots and they’re in love; Laena is featured and she is fed up
leaf and blade by molter  - it’s summer; they’re hiding their relationship; they’re teachers; and my all time favorite tag ‘harwin gets a whistle’ 
cleopatra by dontaskmedude   - divergence from episode 4; Joffery does not die; Laenor and Rhaenyra do everything right; Alicent and Rhaenyra raise their kids together 
someone to watch me die by dontaskmedude  - this is just, this is just depressing; good but depressing; like if hurt/no comfort is your thing this is for you; it’s just so, so sad; Alicent in chains/Rhaenyra half year queen era but no happy ending; do not read this if you want them to be happy 
Untouchable by mylordshesacactus - young rhaenicent; if Aemma never died and if Alicent never married viserys; i love this story so much you dont get it
Blame it on Fate by Lumyart ( @lumyart ) - they’re rival co hosts; well, actually, they’re rival co hosts in Alicent’s mind; Rhaenyra is thoroughly enamored (as per usual) 
you don't know what love is (if you don't put up a fight) by tansymeadows - viserys manages to last a couple extra days and Rhaenyra returns after Alicent blinked her pretty brown eyes and said “you’ve only just arrived”
The Silver Queen and the Lady in Green by WanderingFan - idk how to explain this; honestly just read it; it’s really good; slow burn; like incredibly slow burn im on chapter 26 rn and they’ve only just become friends a couple chapters ago but god is it worth it 
is it too soon to do this yet ('cause I know it's delicate) by Arvedui - episode 1 divergence; it’s cute; they’re cute 
would it be enough (if i could never give you peace?) by Arvedui  - Jeyne Arryn my beloved; you and Laena would get along splendidly when it comes to these two nitwits ( i say with affection) 
Midnights Like This by pure_black_wings - based on Taylor’s album; college setting; slow burn
Duty and Sacrifice (A History of Rhaenyra the Blessed by Archmaester Gyldayn) by TheIronDragon10    (@theirondragonrants) - now when i say i love this story i mean i LOVE this story; if you ever wanted to know what the House of the Dragon looked like thoroughly united then LOOK NO FURTHER; top tier; it’s wonderful; it has angst, it has joy, it has family and sibling vibes, it has slow burn, it has pain and healing and love everything i could ever want from a realistic version of canon where my girls can be happy; emphasis on realistic because the irondragon does not pull any punches 
Cleaving to Rhaenyra by WanderingFan - another episode 4 divergence 
you’ve got your demons (darlin’ they all look like me) by geralehane    ( @geralehane ) - the reincarnation au 
lying (in the hollows of your heart) by wakesiren ( @wakesirens)  - read this for the last scene of chapter 3 and thank me later; update: READ THIS FOR CHAPTER FOUR AND THANK ME LATER
towers and dragons verse by beepboop (permanganato) - Alicent is one adorable nerd okay and Rhaenyra just loves her 
what is it good for? by bluebaric ( @viscountcrow ) - arranged marriage au; Rhaenyra is a war hero; Alicent is perpetually terrified for her life  
tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart by alphayamergo   ( @sydneysageivashkov ) - this was just, this was just hilarious; like picture Corlys and Otto snarling at each other from across the council room trying to convince Rhaenyra to marry either Alicent or Laena and that’s what this is
thine is the queendom by liadrell ( @lesbianalicent ) - this was an excellent read, really good character dive on alicent
Ember to Flame by CrowSaint (@ dayneonychus ) - COLOUR ME INTRIGUED 
our shadow over the sea by queensmooting - sigh
there’s more i just got tired so feel free to add your own
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humanpurposes · 5 months
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It Will Come Back
Chapter 2, Superficial
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Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)
Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, violence, blood
Words: 8029
A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.
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Two months later…
Jaya sat against the headboard of her bed, flicking the old silver lighter open and close, watching the flame flicker and die, over and over again. 
A synthy 80s song played through the speaker on the dresser as her cousins fussed in front of the mirror on her vanity. They were rummaging through their makeup bags, applying shimmering eyeshadows and rich red blush with their fingers.
The whole summer was ahead of them and Rhaenyra had insisted on starting the season with a garden party, primarily to celebrate the twins. Jace was a little anxious about his impending exam results, but Jaya was sure she had done well– a remarkable feat given how distracted she had been lately.
She closed the lighter and let her thumb rest on the engraving of the three-headed dragon.
If she thought hard enough, she could still taste Aemond on her tongue.
She had always thought her first kiss would be intense, like the way it was in movies, music swelling, two mouths crashing together out of love and desperation, unable to hold back after wanting something for so long.
It had been intense, but not as overwhelming as she thought it would be. It was softer, wetter, clumsier. It felt simple, like a firm hand on her waist, like an unashamed glance across a crowded room, like an embrace. It felt like a natural extension of something that had already been there, a different action with the same intent. 
She found her mind replaying that moment an awful lot, in front of the mirror as she got ready for school, while her friends droned on about drama that seemed so trivial to her now, as her eyes moved over a textbook when she was alone in her room.
It was most vivid in the quiet space between waking and sleeping, when she was curled in on herself under her thin bed sheets, resting a hand on her stomach and pretending it was his. She could still feel it then, the hot air of his room, his body pressed into her back, the shape of his lips and the movements of his mouth against her neck, the way she shuddered at his fingertips trailed down, just below her navel but never further.
Sometimes her mind would imagine more than she remembered. She could picture it so easily in her head, his hand slipping underneath the hem of her underwear, his fingers teasing over the heat between her legs, all while he kissed her neck, dragging his teeth over her skin and letting out little pants and grunts… 
But that was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Years ago, when they were children, Aegon used to joke that she and Aemond were in love.
She remembered playdates, family get togethers and formal events, spending the entire time by Aemond’s side. Everything they did, they did together, exploring the gardens of Dragonstone and climbing the apple trees at Queen’s Lodge, playing with dolls and flicking through books, hiding in quiet corners and exchanging secrets.
She remembered sleepovers, when all the kids would bunk together in the lounge, and she and Aemond would never fail to find their way into each other’s arms. She remembered having her head on his chest, clinging onto him like she wanted to be beneath his skin, letting his heartbeat lull her to sleep.
She remembered being small and looking up at Aegon, thinking she could never possibly catch up to his height. “You could get away with that a few hundred years ago. Our family used to be famous for it you know, marrying cousins, brothers and sisters, uncles and nieces.”
At the time she didn’t really know what he meant. She just knew she wanted to be close to Aemond.
It had taken Aemond two days to call her after the party. He was always the one to reach out first and she would only have to wait. She spent those forty or so hours with an unrelenting headache and a twisting feeling in her stomach. She was so anxious that she had done something wrong and the pessimist in her worried she might never hear from him again.
He finally called on the Sunday, in the evening, after she had eaten dinner with her family. He asked if Alysanne was alright and she told him what she knew, that Jace had taken her home and Sabby had spent the night with her. Alysanne maintained that she had enjoyed her evening.
“And what about you, Zaldrīzītsos?” Aemond had asked.
She could hear the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, waiting for her to respond. She looked down at her hands where she sat on the bed, curling her fist around the duvet and digging her thumbnail into her skin.
She felt cold and a little nauseous. She felt restless and unsure. She wanted to feel him again and she knew it was wrong.
“I’m fine,” she muttered.
He would have known she was lying but he didn’t press her any further, and the kiss was not mentioned at all.
She hadn’t seen Aemond and Aegon as frequently over the last couple of months, but that was to be expected over exam season. Aemond had a habit of shutting himself away from the world when he wanted to focus on something. Jaya’s approach to exams was a little less intensive, but she knew she didn’t need any extra distractions.
The moment Aemond’s exams had finished they had gone back to being on friendly terms again. He texted her daily, called her several times a week, but she hadn’t seen him since the party, and suddenly “friendly” didn’t feel like it was enough.
The sound of Baela’s voice made her jump. “Are you getting ready or what?” she asked, eyeing her through the mirror.
Jaya firmly flicked the lighter shut again and placed it on her bedside table as she shuffled off the bed.
‘The Daemon Targaryens’ as they were affectionately known by the rest of the family, had a house between King’s Landing and Driftmark. Jaya saw plenty of uncle Daemon; he was often in town for work, spending his weekdays in his apartment at the Red Keep and occasionally coming for dinner at Queen’s Lodge. She had seen less of Baela and Rhaena since they left Peremore’s, being two years older than her and Jace. Baela had gone to Pentos to study International Relations and Rhaena was training at the Sunspear Ballet School in Dorne, but they always came back for summer.
People had often told Jaya that she and Jace were a more obvious pair of twins than the Targaryen girls. She had their mother’s soft, rounded face compared to his strong, sharp jaw, but they had the same brown curls, the same hazel eyes, the same nose, the same smile, the same pouty frown, the same stubbornness. 
Despite looking incredibly alike when they were children, Baela and Rhaena’s features differed to the point where they hardly looked like siblings. Baela’s eyes were violet and sharp like Daemon’s while Rhaena’s eyes were wide and doe-like like Laena’s. Baela was short and strong, Rhaena was tall, graceful and lean, built like a dancer. Baela kept her silver hair cropped close to her head, and Rhaena’s was usually in braids or locks.
For the evening, Baela had opted for a blue silk shirt, offhandedly tucked into brown dress pants. She liked bold eyeliner, dark lipstick, heavy gold jewellery and black boots.
Rhaena looked like she had stepped out of the pages of a fairytale. She wore a dress she had found in a vintage shop in Dorne, pale pink, covered with floral patterns and rhinestones with a wide, flowing skirt. Her silver hair was brought into a perfect ballet bun and her accessories tended to feature pearls and flowers plated with silver.
They both looked incredible, and here Jaya was, still in the shorts and t-shirt she had changed into after her shower, with only half an hour to go before the guests would start arriving.
She had something specific in mind, a white summer dress with flared sleeves and fitted, flattering top. The sleeves and the skirt floated around her as she moved and glanced at her reflection in the mirror and the windows. She felt ethereal and fleeting, “like a ghost,” Rhaena said.
“White?” Baela said with a quirked eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried you’ll spill wine on it?”
Jaya tried not to grin as she finished her makeup with some sheer lipgloss. “I’ll just be very, very careful,” she said.
The house was ready for guests, empty of any clutter or indication that it was actually inhabited by their family. There was a lot of noise coming from the kitchen and by the front door, Steffon Darklyn, Rhaenyra’s head of security, was muttering to a few members of staff. They passed through the conservatory, a room of red sofas, vintage rugs and potted plants, with a tall glass ceiling and French doors that led out to the patio.
The garden looked like something from a wedding catalogue, a picturesque scene of fairy lights, candles, canopies, tables covered in white tablecloths, bouquets of red and white roses. A charming instrumental hummed somewhere in the background, waiters waltzed between tables with canapes on silver platters as the guests sipped on champagne and red wine.
There were plenty of interesting guests, the Celtigars, the Bar Eammons, even Jeyne Arryn had made an appearance, some distant cousin of her mother’s. She noticed some of the board members were present too, Jasper Wylde, Lymon Beesbury, Tyland Lannister. One by one, they went to greet Rhaenyra.
Her mother was a vision of silver and red, her long hair pinned away from her face and cascading down the back of a designer dress. She shook each guest by the hand, embraced them warmly, then smiled. It was a routine she had picked up from Viserys, he knew how to make people feel like they were his friends.
Daemon and Laena hovered beside her, taking sips from champagne coupes. Daemon was a little more transparent with his reluctance for formalities. He had more of a practical approach to business, head of the bank’s legal team, despite the lack of qualifications. He shook Lymon Beesbury’s hand and only spared a smug glare for Wylde and Lannister. 
“Oh look!” Rhaena cooed, pointing towards the orchard. Sunset was still a few hours away but the light was dimming. Jaya and Balea turned and sighed at the sight of the fairy lights that had been strung around the branches and the tree trunks.
“It’s going to look so beautiful once night falls,” Rhaena said.
The first thing they did was find the boys. Luke and Joffrey had found themselves a table at the very edge of the party, and poor Jace had been cornered by Jeyne Arryn and a few of their mother’s friends. When Jaya went to save him she was roped into the same conversation she was about to have all night. “Hello darling, don’t you look pretty and grown up? How’s school– oh no, you’re finished now, aren’t you? When do you get your results? Still set on KLU? What was it you wanted to study?” Responding to them was making her brain feel numb.
She heard a bit of a fuss being made over the arrival of the next guests, Corlys and Rhaenys Velaryon. They stood just outside the doorway for a moment, Corlys in a teal suit and Rhaenys in a silver gown that tastefully matched the grey streaks in her otherwise black hair.
Jaya grabbed Jace’s hand. “Excuse us,” she said with a smile and brought him with her to join their mother as she welcomed their grandparents.
The Velaryons had a history that intertwined with the Targaryens, descending from a line that led across the Narrow Sea to Old Valyria. Corlys liked to say he built his business from the ground up, but the truth was it was built on family connections and the small fortune that came with marrying Rhaenys Baratheon. But what did it matter, the story he told? People revered him all the same, the CEO of the largest shipping company on the continent, an esteemed member of the board of directors of Dragon Bank, with links to some of the most prominent families in the country.
Suddenly she wondered where her father had got to. 
Corlys and Rhaenyra were in good spirits, laughing over a joke Jaya and Jace had just missed. Rhaenys was holding Laena’s hands in hers, asking about the girls and everything else there was to catch up on.
Corlys’ face lit up when he saw the twins. Of course, it was ridiculous to think that a grandfather would play favourites, but sometimes she wondered if she was Corlys’ favourite. A giant of a man, he hugged them both tightly, while Rhaenys met them only with a polite peck on the cheek. 
He asked the dreaded question of exam results.
“A few more days,” Rhaenyra said, “but it’s not as though we’re worried.”
“Good, that’s what I like to hear,” Corlys said. “Jace, your mother tells me you have plans of going to White Harbour?”
“Yeah,” Jace said, though he did not sound entirely convinced himself. “I’ve applied for communications, but they have a lot of optional modules. I was thinking about doing some classes in drama or business or something.”
“Well, the world needs communicators,” Rhaenys said rather dryly.
Daemon snickered. Laena tapped his arm to make him stop.
“What about you, Jaya?”
“I’m set on KLU,” she said. “PPH.” Politics, Philosophy and History, the same as Aemond. In her mind there had never been another possibility.
This Rhaenys seemed a little more impressed by.
“Set on changing the world, are we?” Corlys said.
Jaya smiled somewhat performatively. “We’ll see.”
“She’s always had big ambitions,” Rhaenyra said. She smoothed her hand over Jaya’s head, like she used to do when she was little, and pressed a light kiss to her temple. “My smart girl.”
Corlys, Rhaenys, Laena and Daemon all smiled. Jace hummed and glanced down at his sneakers.
She went to the bar before she joined the others at the table. She asked for a gin and lemonade with lots of ice. Sweet and cold, it went down easily and gave her something to do with her hands, a hard surface to tap her nail against should she start to feel nervous.
Laenor was still nowhere to be found. People would start to notice, maybe they would ask questions.
When she came back to the table, Baela and Rhaena were laughing with Luke and Joffrey. Jace was a little removed from the others, slouched back in his chair, fiddling with a piece of silver cutlery laid out on the table.
She sat beside him and offered him some of her drink. He shook his head with his brows furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. 
“What’s wrong with you?” she said, realising how accusatory she had sounded. The gin was probably to thank for that, so she placed her glass down on the table. Besides, it was nearly empty.
Jace tilted his head and looked at her, sad or angry, she couldn’t really tell.
“I don’t know if I did enough to get into White Harbour,” he muttered.
They’d had this conversation before. He could never say why he was so sure he wasn’t going to get in, but it was just nerves, surely. He was getting in his head, overthinking it.
Jaya placed her hand on his shoulder. In a way it felt strange to see him like this when he was usually so self-assured, or at least he acted like it. “There’s nothing that you can do now. If you stress about it or you don’t, the outcome isn’t going to change. So you might as well stop beating yourself up about it.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect like you.”
That made her pause.
Jace could be serious and stubborn, and he liked to act like he knew better than her, but he was a sweet person really. He had a natural charm, people were drawn to him and found him easy to like. But there were these little moments, like the party at Maegor’s Square, like now, when he could be so spiteful. 
Why? What had she done to prompt it now?
Jaya huffed in disbelief. “I’m not perfect,” she said.
Jace tutted. Anger flashed over his face, she could see it, and he moved his mouth as if to say something but stopped himself.
He leaned back in his chair. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t get it.”
“What don’t I get?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
Hot tears stung her eyes, but she wasn’t going to cry, not in the middle of a fucking party. 
She glanced up and saw Baela looking at them.
“Look, if you’re really worried, there’s things you can do. You can appeal, you can go through clearing, you can do a foundation year or, I don’t know, figure something else out altogether.”
Jace glared at her expectantly.
“You don’t have to go to uni straight away,” she said. “Maybe take some time to figure out what you want.”
Jace folded his arms. “It’s fine. I spoke to mum about it. She said there’s nothing we can do until we get the actual results. But once we know, well, arrangements can be made.”
Jaya frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Look at who we are, Jay. Look at who are family is. Between mum, Viserys and Corlys, I can figure something out.”
“Buy your way into White Harbour, you mean?” Jaya said. Of all the places to buy your way into?
“It’s not like that,” Jace huffed.
“No? What is it like then?”
Jace chuckled bitterly to himself and went back to fiddling with a polished dining knife. Jaya pressed her nails into her palm. She hated it when Jace was like this, when he tried to pretend he knew more than she ever would. But she knew more than he gave her credit for. She knew how to get under his skin.
“You’d be no better than Aegon, you know?” she said, softly and simply.
Jace stared at her, and she stared back, her mouth not quite in a smile, her eyebrows raised in false innocence.
“He didn’t get the grades for KLU. Otto had to buy him a place. Now look at him, he’s been there four years and what has he got to show for it?”
“Oh but I thought you worshipped uncle Aegon,” Jace sneered.
“I don’t worship him.” She felt like a child when she said it.
“But you follow him like a fucking dog. Aemond too, you were all over him at that party.”
Her stomach dropped. “I was not,” she said in a small voice. They both knew she was lying. 
Jace leaned into her. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him, to either of them,” he hissed. “They’re not good people, Jay, and you know it. You saw what Aegon did to Alysanne that night and you let it happen. They’re fucking desperate, the whole lot of them.” 
Something else caught his attention. He was looking behind her, towards the patio and the glass doors to the conservatory.
Viserys had arrived, and the air suddenly felt cold.
His wife, Alicent, as beautiful as ever with her big brown eyes and her full lips poised in a gentle smile, entered beside him, clinging onto his arm. She was an image of radiance tonight, light catching in her auburn curls, the silky fabric of her sage green dress and the gold necklace on her collar. 
Sometimes Jaya wondered why Viserys had bothered to remarry all those years ago, and why he had chosen a wife so much younger than him. Alicent was eighteen when she got married, the same age Jaya was now, and nineteen when she had her first baby. 
She was followed by her father, Otto Hightower, Viserys’ stoic right-hand man, tall, thin and dressed immaculately. Then by a man with dark hair and stubble in a grey suit. Jaya had seen him at the Red Keep and remembered him as Criston Cole, Alicent’s personal head of security.
Then came the four siblings with silver hair; Aegon, for once in a shirt and not a white tank top and tracksuit bottoms; Helaena, in a pretty pale blue dress and large butterfly earrings; Daeron, in a cobalt blue shirt and black jeans; and the last to walk through the glass doors was Aemond.
Excitement ignited under Jaya’s skin. Usually seeing Aemond made her happy, though seeing him now felt somewhat terrifying.
But there was no reason for it. He was dressed in all black, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, a suit jacket slung over his shoulder. His short hair was styled neatly and swept away from his face. He was scowling, casting a seething, sceptical gaze over the scenery and the guests. Nothing unusual.
Behind them came Lyonel Strong, and his son, Larys. 
The twins simultaneously held their breath, waiting for another man to join them, but the face they were searching for did not appear.
Jaya quickly glanced towards her mother. Rhaenyra smiled softly, and went to greet Lyonel and Larys directly. It seemed like a warm welcome, but she could tell when her mother’s moves were calculated. There were eyes everywhere here, and she couldn’t be seen to be on such icy terms with the Strongs.
“Oh shit,” Jace whispered under his breath. “What are they doing here?”
In the first few minutes of their arrival, between making his own greetings of the guests, Viserys kept looking back to speak to Lyonel, and not Otto, which struck her as unusual.
“He’s back at Dragon Bank?” she wondered aloud. Rhaenyra hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and usually she kept her eldest children updated on the developments of the family business. Dragon Bank was more of an empire, one which spanned centuries. It mattered who was involved, and who wasn’t.
She hadn’t heard much about Lyonel Strong since his son Harwin left the company and moved back to Harrenhal, according to rumours and the gossip magazines.
They didn’t have much more time to speculate before the four Targaryen siblings were heading towards their table. Aegon led the pack, arms wide open, a glass of champagne in his hand already.
“Jacey boy!”
“I’m getting a fucking drink,” Jace grumbled and marched towards the bar, but not before Aegon managed to ruffle his hair. 
She caught Baela’s eye again and turned her head away, hoping she’d take the hint. Instead she came and sat beside her.
“What’s his problem?” Baela muttered as the others joined them. Daeron and Aegon sat with Luke and Joffrey, while Helaena sat beside Jaya. Aemond tentatively lowered himself into the chair beside his sister.
Jaya reached for her glass and downed the rest of her drink. It only tasted of sugar and lemons and she wanted another one. “Where do you want to start?” she said.
Jace eventually returned from the bar with a bottle of beer, just as Rhaenyra announced that dinner was about to be served. Seeing he had been displaced, Jace sat with Rhaena.
Waiters came and placed fish dishes, summer salads and bottles of fine white burgundy and chablis on the table before them. She only picked at the food and allowed herself one glass of wine. The last thing any of them needed tonight was for things to get out of hand.
It had been a while since she had seen Helaena. She had spent the last three years in Highgarden but she had graduated a few weeks ago. Alicent had sent photos.
She turned to Helaena, who often had her eyes on her plate or nowhere at all. She kept catching Aemond’s gaze and tried not to smile.
“How are you finding being back home?” she asked.
Helaena’s eyes went wide and she sighed heavily. “I miss having my own space.”
Between their apartment at the Red Keep and their weekends spent at Dragonstone, Jaya guessed space shouldn’t have been much of an issue, especially now that Aegon and Aemond weren’t living with them.
Jaya followed Helaena’s gaze as she looked at her parents, sat with Rhaenyra, and sighed again.
“I don’t often feel happy at home,” Helaena said.
A chill slipped slowly down her spine, a sudden wave of sadness. She caught Aemond’s eye again. He looked solemn now, but was half distracted by Aegon and Baela as they started to argue about politics over the table.
“I don’t suppose you were supposed to tell me that,” Jaya muttered.
“No, not really,” Helaena said, looking down at her fingers. She went to pick at her lavender nail polish but suddenly snatched her hands into her lap and hummed to herself. 
Jaya placed a hand over Helaena's. “I’m glad you did.”
With a quick breath, Helaena seemed fine again, her eyes so much more alert than they were before. “I’m going back to Highgarden in September to start a PhD– did I tell you about that yet?”
Jaya smiled through the brief bewilderment and the rapid changes in topic. “Um, no, actually, I didn’t know you were doing PhD.”
“Oh, I thought Aemond might have told you,” Helaena said.
Aemond turned to them again at the sound of his name. “My mistake,” he said. “We’ve all been a bit distracted recently.”
The music and the chatter died down as Viserys Targaryen tapped the handle of a silver knife against his glass. He walked towards the patio, followed by every pair of eager eyes in the garden.
“He’s doing a speech,” Aemond said.
“Fucking fantastic,” Aegon mumbled, having just finished a glass of wine and already pouring himself another. 
Jace shot Aegon an ugly glare.
“How good it is to see you all here tonight,” Viserys said, his voice clear and commanding, opening his arms like some benevolent King addressing his subjects. “It fills my heart with joy to be surrounded by friends and family alike...”
Jaya felt Helaena tense beside her. Aemond hadn’t even turned to face his father. He stared down at an empty space in front of him, keeping one hand on the table, tapping his index finger against the cloth.
“... and tonight, we are here to celebrate the achievements of two remarkable people, some of the most dear to me in all the world.”
The guests awed at his generosity. Jaya thought she was going to throw up.
Viserys was watching them and raised his glass. “To Jacaerys and Jaya, my wonderful grandchildren, who have now finished their exams and will begin their studies at university. I know you’ll both go on to do great things. I love you both, so dearly, and I wish you the very best.”
This was met by a chant of “hear, hear!” followed by the clinking of glasses.
But Viserys wasn’t finished just yet.
“I’m reminded especially, in these precious moments, the importance of family. The importance of trust, and a bond with those you love. When I see these faces before me, I am reminded of the foundation upon which our ancestors built our esteemed institution– the family business, we call it. Strength. Unity. Family. And I am firm in the knowledge, as we approach our fifth centenary, that the future of Dragon Bank is in very safe hands.”
The garden erupted into applause, enthusiastically from Rhaenyra, Daemon and Corlys. A little more politely from Alicent and Otto.
Her eyes met Aemond's again. There was something unsettling about the way he watched her, eyes wide, alert and somewhat sad. She followed him as he slowly got up from his seat, taking his jacket from the back of his chair. Heat bloomed in her cheeks when she realised he was coming over to her.
She felt his hand on the back of her chair as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Come with me,” he said, offering his hand.
She followed without question and without looking back.
Aemond’s hand was tight over hers as they moved through the party. Some of the guests had started to mingle now that dinner had moved on to dessert, platters of fruit and pastries. Viserys was talking to some of the board members, Lyonel by his side, far too distracted to notice his dear granddaughter being led towards the patio. They passed through the glass doors and into the house. She immediately noticed how quiet it was inside, but all the noise and excitement was happening in the garden.
There were all sorts of hiding spots in the house, archways and alcoves, places they would make use of as children. He slipped into one such spot, between the doors and a marble archway that separated the conservatory from the main hallway. It didn’t make them invisible, but it was quiet, barely lit by the light of the chandelier in the hallway.
It was a snug space too. Aemond leaned his back against the wall and pulled her in to join him. She was close to his chest, with perhaps less than a foot of space behind her before she’d be against the other wall.
“What are we–”
“Shh,” Aemond ordered, holding his finger against her lips.
Jaya couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “What are we doing?” 
Aemond withdrew his finger from her lips and came to take both of her hands in his. “I’ve missed you,” he said.
Her heart leapt but she kept calm. “You’ve spoken to me most days lately,” she said.
“No, I mean…” for a moment he seemed to lose his train of thought, his eyes, dark in the low light, drifting slowly over her face, her neckline and back to her eyes. He squeezed her hands as if to remember. “I have something for you.”
He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small, square box. He offered it to her and she hated that she would have to let go of him to take it.
She lifted the lid and stared in wonder at a pendant lying on a bed of blue velvet. It was simple and exquisite, a single pearl and a small sapphire. She looked up to Aemond. He was watching her with a small smile.
“May I?” she said.
Aemond huffed a laugh that made a warmth bloom in her chest. She was close enough to feel his breath running over her neck and shivered at the memory of the party, his bedroom, just him.
He delicately took the pendant from the box and revealed the gold chain to her. She could feel herself being drawn in by everything about him, the care with which he moved his fingers, the concentration in his eyes when he looked at her, the secretive smile on his lips.
Maybe it was the gin and the wine but she felt lightheaded and her hands were trembling.
Aemond brought the necklace around her neck and leaned over her shoulder to close the clasp, his chest pressed against hers, his fingertips brushing over her skin. She tried to steady her breathing as she consumed the familiar scent of him, mint, smoke, leather and the perfume that smelled like a forest in a bottle.
Her hands moved of their own accord, settling on his shoulders to keep him close.
Aemond paused. With the necklace secure he dragged his hands over her shoulders, her arms, coming to clutch her by the elbows, but he didn’t let go. 
Jaya took a deep breath and titled her head towards his neck.
Aemond shuddered. Then pulled away, slowly, but only until their faces were inches apart.
Seconds dragged by, maybe they were minutes, and she lost herself to him, his sharp blue eyes, the pleading look of his brow, the curve of his lips and the slight flare of his nose as he breathed.
He kept his hands on her arms, tracing circles on her skin with his thumbs.
She had never known her heart to beat this fast, to feel so terrified and yet so content.
“Do you like it?” Aemond muttered.
She brought one of her hands up to hold the pendant, feeling over the curve of the pearl, the cut edges of the sapphire. “I love it,” she said. “It’s like me and you.”
“How so?”
“Pearls are of the sea, like the Velaryons, like me.” She reached one hand up to the side of his face, moving her thumb over his temple. Of all his siblings, he was the only one with blue eyes instead of violet. “And a sapphire, like you.”
“That’s a beautiful way to put it,” Aemond said.
“Did you really not think of that before you bought it, or did you just think it was pretty? How superficial of you,” she added with a grin.
Aemond smirked. “Maybe you’re just smarter than me.”
“No, I doubt that,” Jaya said.
They smiled at each other then settled to silence, as the noise of the party raged on in the distance. 
He placed his hand against her cheek. “I’m just so proud of you, Jay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper; it didn’t need to be any louder. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved, everything you’re going to achieve.”
She leaned into his touch. She felt light and heavy, happy and sad.
“Results are still a week off,” she said.
“And they’re going to be perfect, I know they will,” he said. He shifted his hand when her eyes dropped to the floor, urging her to look at him as his thumb traced circles on her cheek. “And we’ll be at the same university together, won’t that be wonderful?”
It would only be for a year. Aemond would be graduating the following summer. That thought inexplicably filled her with dread.
“Yeah,” she said.
Suddenly she realised her back was against the wall and Aemond’s hand was on her waist. His thumb traced lower, to the corner of her lips. She became weightless with anticipation, with wanting. It was all very gentle, subtle, easy to back away from, if that was what she wanted. Only she didn’t want to.
Aemond didn’t need to lean in far before their lips met. Once again she found herself stunned at how easy it was to kiss him. She didn’t think about what she was doing, she just let herself feel him, move with him as his lips grazed hers, as his tongue slipped into her mouth.
She could barely breathe and she didn’t care. He tightened his grip on her waist, simultaneously pushing her further into the wall, pulling her into him and pressing his body almost completely against hers. 
The hand on her cheek came to the side of her neck. He titled her head and she followed, letting him kiss her deeper, harsher, hungrier. 
She held onto him as much as she could, his jaw, his neck, his hair, always pulling herself into him, rocking her hips against his when they started to move.
He trailed kisses down to her neck, until he found a soft spot that had her sighing and squirming. She gripped onto his shoulders for purchase and she felt him chuckle against her skin.
He took her by surprise when he slid a hand under her skirt, along her thigh, to hitch her leg around his hip. She let out a short whimper, soon muffled when Aemond pressed his lips back to hers in a bruising kiss. 
It felt good to kiss him, run her fingers through his perfect hair, take a breath just to see the flush of blood in his cheeks, the dark, desperate look on his face. His hand trailed further along her thigh, teasing and gripping at her flesh. The wanting feeling in her gut was starting to become overwhelming. 
“Do you like it?” Aemond breathed, digging his fingertips into the flesh of her ass. “Do you like it when I touch you like this, Zaldrīzītsos?”
It was wrong. So fucking wrong, but she never wanted this feeling to stop, balanced on a knife-edge, standing on the brink of something dangerous and thrilling. It could be their little secret, kept between the sheets of his bed, in the gloomy corner of this house, in the stolen glances and the parts of her mind that felt incomplete without him.
“Yeah I do,” she uttered, “I really fucking do–”
“Jaya!”
Aemond dropped her leg instantly. They stared into each other’s eyes, terrified that they might have been caught.
“Jaya? Aemond?” Rhaenyra’s voice called through the conservatory. She hadn’t passed through the doors but her heels were clicking against the floor, dangerously close to their hiding place.
Aemond took a step back from Jaya, running his fingers through his hair. 
She fixed her dress and wiped the smeared lipgloss from her mouth.
Just as Rhaenyra appeared in the hallway. “Oh there you are,” she said, sparing the briefest of glances for her brother. “Come outside, Viserys is asking why you haven’t greeted him yet.”
“Right,” Jaya said, “of course.” She could feel the warmth leaving her skin as she stepped away from Aemond and followed her mother back into the garden.
Three of them were stood together, Daemon, Corlys and Viserys, three of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms, all smiling when they saw her. Sometimes these ‘talks’ with her grandfather were hard to decipher. You could never be sure if it was in a familial or a business capacity. Something about their smiles felt forced. Business, she guessed.
Viserys hugged her and made a big show of it, but it was brief and his arms didn’t feel too tight around her.
“The woman of the hour!” he exclaimed, “my beautiful granddaughter.”
Alicent was sitting at a table with her father, Criston Cole hovering over her shoulder. The three of them seemed to be rather interested in this interaction. 
“Your mother’s been telling me all about your plans for September?” Viserys said.
She spotted Aemond in the corner of her eye, walking back towards the table. “Yes,” she said brightly, “I can’t wait to start.”
“And still be close to home, of course,” Viserys said.
“She’s always been ambitious,” Rhaenyra said, putting her hand on Jaya’s shoulder. 
“I’m sure all the hard work will pay off,” Corlys added, “you’ll go on to do great things, Jaya.”
She tried to hide the confusion in her face. All this praise was making her suspicious. She brought her hand to her chest, letting her fingers clutch at the pendant hanging from her neck. “Thank you,” she said, “I mean, I hope so.”
Viserys chuckled, but then his expression faded into something more serious. He glanced between Corlys and Daemon. “You know, it’s important to consider the future, to have faith in yourself and your abilities, wouldn’t you agree, Jaya?”
“Yes,” she said, without thinking.
“I have faith in our future,” he said, and she knew the only thing he could have meant was the bank. “I have faith in your mother, who’ll one day, hopefully not too soon, succeed me.”
“Oh dad,” Rhaenyra said.
Viserys’ piercing violet eyes moved to Jaya. “And I have faith that one day, someone just as intelligent and capable as Rhaneyra, will take over from her, and continue to protect this incredible legacy we have been gifted.”
Jaya felt her heart in her throat. She looked to her mother and Rhaenyra smiled, and nodded.
Viserys obviously had his favourites, Daemon, Rhaenyra, now Jaya dared to think she might be included in the illustrious list, if he meant what she thought he did.
“That would be incredible,” she said quietly.
“If you’re in King’s Landing, we could easily get you some work at the Keep, an internship, shadowing, something like that,” Viserys said, his voice instantly switching into something more formal. “We can get you on the payroll if you’d like as well, it’s a good look to have income.”
“Come on Viserys, don’t bore the girl with business,” Daemon said with a chuckle.
“Of course not!” Viserys said, “but you know how it is, Jaya, you always have to be switched on, to an extent. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
“Yes,” she said with a smile.
His eyes dropped to her neck. “What a pretty necklace,” he said. “End of exam gift?” he asked Rhaenyra.
She suddenly realised she was still holding it and dropped her hand. “It was from Aemond, actually.”
Viserys smiled and said nothing.
“That’s very sweet of him,” her mother said.
With that she was dismissed. Viserys and Corlys wandered off into a corner, muttering harshly to each other. Daemon and Rhaenyra shared a pointed look and rejoined Laena, Alicent and Otto at their table.
Aemond was chatting casually with Baela, while Helaena and Rhaena were enthralled in their own conversation. Baela mentioned that the others had all gone up to the orchard. She and Aemond were intending to join them but wanted to wait for her.
They walked on either side of her as they headed away from the main party, along the dark path to the brightly lit orchard. They could already see Daeron, Luke and Joffrey climbing the trees, Aegon and Jace sitting on the grass drinking from bottles of wine or champagne.
“Classy,” Baela muttered, to Jaya and Aemond’s amusement.
The light faded as soon as they left the main area of the party. All the lights and the candles couldn’t reach the path to the orchard and they stepped a little unsurely along the old cobbled path and overgrown grass.
At some point Jaya tripped over a loose stone. Aemond grabbed her arm with two hands in a tight grip. He kept hold of her, even when they continued walking.
She tried not to think about his hand on her bare skin, her hip brushing against him, his eyes burning into the spot on her chest where the pendant fell– she only hoped Baela didn’t notice.
“What did Viserys want?” Aemond asked.
Guilt twinged in her chest and her gut. “It was just a chat.”
“Hmm.”
Jaya scowled payfully at him. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing with Viserys is ever ‘just a chat’,” he said.
A sudden noise caught their attention. It was something loud and alarming, maybe a shout.
Her feet kept walking but she felt frozen.
Aegon and Jace were standing face to face, their faces obscured by light and shadow. It looked like they were arguing. Aegon was clutching a bottle in one hand, swaying and pushing his hair back,the way he usually did when he was drunk. Jace kept stepping closer and closer to him.
“I don’t like the look of this,” Jaya said.
“They’re just pissed,” Baela said. “They’ve been going through bottles way too quickly.”
Suddenly Aegon reached his arm out, maybe to hit him or grab his shirt, but Jace didn’t give him the chance and shoved him back by his chest.
Aemond moved immediately, rushing to separate them. Jaya instinctively gripped Baela’s hand and they did their best to keep up with him.
Her heartbeat pulsed in her head. She watched Aemond put himself between them, keeping Aegon behind him and outstretching his arm to Jace.
Jace started shouting again, something she couldn’t decipher, but his voice was getting clearer the closer she got. She had to get closer.
He shouted something that made Aemond freeze. She could see something was off, the way he tensed, and slowly lowered his arm.
Then he lunged forward, fists flying, knocking Jace to the ground. 
Baela screamed. Luke ran for Aegon and neither of them held back. Daeron wrapped his arms around Joffrey and dragged him away from the fighting.
Jaya felt it in her throat when she screamed, Jace’s name, then Aemond’s, with more raw fury than she ever thought herself capable of. 
Joffrey was safe.
She couldn’t think about what Baela was doing, she just knew she was behind her then she was running in another direction.
She knew had to get Aemond off Jace, but she didn’t want to go touch him, or go anywhere near him. He moved like a feral animal, blind with rage, pummelling his fists into Jace’s face.
She caught glimpses of Jace, the whites of his eye, red blood running from his nose and pooling in his mouth. He tried to spit some of it into Aemond’s face and claw at him with his fingernails but there was nothing he could do to deter him.
She couldn’t understand it, why everything had escalated, how quickly Aemond had changed, how he could be capable of such brutality, and she was furious.
Blood burning in her veins and coomon sense long since abandoned, she grabbed Aemond by the shoulders and yanked him back as hard as she could. Somehow she managed to avoid his flailing arms and Jace’s attempts at retaliation, shoving Aemond onto the ground.
She knelt beside her brother, trying to wipe some of the blood from his face, checking to see where the cuts were and if anything was broken. Her hands were trembling. She wasn’t used to seeing this much red and it was staining her hands, her pretty white dress.
Daeron and Baela had put themselves between Aegon and Luke, still trying to scrap at each other like dogs. Jaya looked for Joffrey and found him running back to the party, shouting for help.
Only then did she spare a glance for Aemond.
He was utterly stunned. He stared back at her, eyes dark and starry with the reflection of the lights on the trees, a panting mess, with bruised knuckles, blood and scratches on his face.
Hot tears ran down her cheeks effortlessly and tasted bitter when they met her lips.
He hauled himself to his feet, flexing his hands and checking his knuckles. Good. She hoped it fucking hurt. She hoped his hands would be covered in bruises for weeks.
Eventually Aegon and Luke stopped struggling. The pulsing in her head stopped and the orchard was quiet once more, the vacant space filled with heavy breaths and Jace’s groans of pain. Jaya cradled him in her arms, promising help would be there soon.
There was shouting coming from the party now, movement and figures heading for the orchard. Gods, their parents were going to be livid.
She heard Luke take a breath before he screamed it. “FUCKING MONSTER!”
Her head darted to look behind her. Luke was too far away from Baela for her to stop him. There was another empty bottle lying on the grass. He grabbed it by the neck and smashed it against a tree trunk.
Sharp side raised, Luke ran towards Aemond. 
She didn’t hesitate and put herself in front of Luke, seizing both of his wrists. She suddenly realised how much taller he’d grown lately; he towered over her and she was struggling to match his strength. 
“Luke!” she shouted, “drop it! Fucking drop it!”
Luke’s face was twisted in fury and anguish, he didn’t even seem to have heard her. He tried to twist out of her hold and she grabbed the bottle instead.
Her hand slipped. Her arm moved behind her. She felt the impact of the bottle against something hard before it sliced through a softer surface. Something warm and wet splattered over her hand, her arm, her neck, her hair, her dress, everywhere.
It took her a moment to register the scream. It was low and guttural, forcing itself through the throat of someone who usually took pride in his unbreakable resolve.
She was still clinging to the glass when she turned around to see Aemond on his knees. He had one hand on the ground and the other cradled his left eye. Dark blood oozed through his fingers.
She might as well have lodged the sharp end in her own chest.
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A/n: Hi! a quick note from me. This chapter was a bit of a struggle to write but I'm really happy with how it turned out! Chapters 1 and 2 take place before the prologue, and then Chapter 3 is going to jump ahead six years. Then we're building up to the events of the prologue. So thanks for reading and stay tuned 😚
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Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator
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comfortless · 1 month
Note
syl you can not casually mention blacksmith König and leave it at that!
sighing… ok, yes, i will talk about blacksmith! König more..! ^^
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. violence, physical/emotional abuse, descriptions of injury, death, angst, marriage on the gallows au.
Before König, there was his father, his father’s father and so on. Hardened men who were left to rot on the outskirts of the little village: sharpen blades, birth something from slabs of iron and silver. The work was tedious, but never dull. Scrape, burn, turn and roll- over and over until the smoke rose from the pit to sting at his eyes. Birth by fire wasn’t only in myths of dragons and phoenixes; he witnessed it each time he held pure malice in his hands as his hammer struck. Nothing became something, deadly and cruel. Day and night his life and lungs were filled to brimming with hellfire.
Accidents happen, naturally. No matter how careful he’s been, there’s nothing to keep the flame from entirely taking back after giving so much.
König’s father lost a finger while mentoring him.
His blue eyes were fixed on the man’s callused hand as the freshly smithed blade sliced through the digit like it was little more than a dollop of honey, no blood. There had been nothing but the crack of bone carved cleanly through, then the wet sizzle of meat cooking as it fell into the pit.
His father had screeched like a starved demon then, a barrage of insults tossed his son’s way like little more than passing pleasantries: oaf, useless cur, bitch.
König hadn’t been concerned, he sat on the stone bench looking up at his father and told him so, that he was fine: it had been cauterized, cleansed by the fire.
König lost the same finger that day.
His mother had fallen ill sometime last winter. The last memory he had of her was the look of frailty on her face, how her skin felt so cold and yet she lie dampened with sweat.
The dogs and buzzards had gotten to her grave, but it wasn’t them he felt any of the fire’s malice for.
Just his father.
The villagers didn’t know what became of the blacksmith, but König could recall it every night; how even with his dying breath he had only thought to curse his only son.
So, he wears the hood of the last executioner now, and the people shy away. They don’t like the look of death unless they can participate in it as a divined audience.
The dogs are never hungry, there’s illness all throughout the valley, and sometimes it only shines through in shimmering eyes while the villagers stare and giggle at the next withering soul led to the gallows.
König knows he should be there; like mother and father, his bones should be shared between panting mouths and blood-stained beaks. Sometimes the boars come sniffing too, and he’s always hated them, maybe even more than the birds. They’re ugly and sturdy, squealing and snarling like his father.
The villagers looked at the boars, though, because they were useful. Their eyes were hungry and happy each night the men set out on a hunt, unaware that their sons and daughters lurked in the bellies of the very beasts they starved for.
It’s cold even during the summer months in his shack.
There are blankets, a kitchen, a hearth, but it’s empty. The winter makes its wastelands each coming year, envious of how he can accomplish such with fire instead of ice. He doesn’t need to clean. The ash blackens the wood, cleanses all. One day, maybe, it would scrub him too.
The fire is a womb, but it’s never birthed anything truly alive. Not until her. A wildfire swept the field where travelers had gathered. With their supplies reduced to the very cinders König had come to adore, the surviving members sweep right into this cursed place like it’s a holy temple.
And the fire gave her to him.
König doesn’t know where this woman came to settle from; she isn’t like the other villagers, not even the travelers with their items and skills for selling. There’s still life in her eyes. He watches her as she wanders down the street with a smile on her face, one that speaks of a kindness that not a single one of these people deserves.
She introduces herself to them too, without a title to her name, and all at once any interest fades as the ghosts wander away from her.
His mother used to force him into the church when she was still alive.
She would take him by the hand as he lumbered after her, sticking out amongst the crowd of parishioners who would sing their hymns and stare at him with contempt behind their eyes. He hated going, but he did it for his mother; father was much too busy to spend his time with her and her fantasies. But König learned of angels there, fragile feathered things, all eyes and wings that wouldn’t stand a chance against a blade.
He didn’t think delicate things could be holy until her sweet, gentle smile is cast upon him.
This lady walks right up to him, doesn’t bat an eye at his hood when her lips curl up as she introduces herself. She doesn’t mind the sack of weapons thrown over his shoulder to take to the marketplace— the swords, the daggers, none of it. Her eyes don’t even glance their way; she looks only to him.
Women like this don’t want their homes and beds covered in ash, cinder in place of incense, fire instead of honey. But still she smiles while he says nothing.
König isn’t the only man who’s heart she steals, either.
The village is all gray, smoke and rot except where she walks. Flowers spring up for the coming spring, the deer and foxes are calling out for mates, and it’s all because of her— everyone must know it.
The farmer’s son brings her fresh fruit and whispers into her ear while they pass by his shack on a stroll. The man’s arm curls around her waist so naturally that König can only be reminded of the way that dagger sank between his fathers fingers, tore off a bit of him to feed back to hungry flame. If there were any god above he knew right then that it wouldn’t want him to allow that to happen to her. Not to an angel.
When the rest of the men, dogs and seraphim sleep, König tears the farmer’s boy in two— split down chest to abdomen and left as food for the pigs, right there in the middle of the field.
He doesn’t pray, he hasn’t since the last time he knelt by his mother’s sickbed, but he closes his eyes and breathes out a wish when he leaves that bloodied dagger at her doorstep.
He doesn’t pray, but he weeps when he rallies the villagers to apprehend her. She cries and fusses, face puffy from sleep and hair a mess. There isn’t a speck of blood on her, but the vultures take her anyway. König didn’t want to see her hurt; when her eyes find his, he turns away.
The day of her execution arrives like a festival ceremony. It’s been some time since the last, the scavengers are hungry, so famished he thinks he can almost hear them lick their teeth. There would be no death today, it’s already been decided. In distant places, a single act of devotion is all it takes to save a life, one that the beasts didn’t have the right to take.
The hunger wasn’t always just for death, but for something… a turn and change like steel in fire.
When the angel is taken to her death, rope dangling from her neck like a lead meant for cattle, he steps forward, parting the crowd with an ease. He’s practiced this a time or two in the smoke already, a lonesome and loathing god in the fog. The others scurry from him, looking up at him with pinched brows and bared teeth as if to goad he take her life instead.
Instead, he only catches her eye, smiles and lowers himself on one knee.
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vampyrsm · 2 years
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'The Forbidden Flame.' Masterlist Prince Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
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Synopsis: In a world where royalty are born and bred to sit upon a throne built by their ancestor's aeons ago, there is a prince who is destined to sit upon the throne but there is worry amongst those of the high council. Will this Prince ever be able to shake the shackles of his ancestorial rage and become a just and rightful King? Or will he simply be another spindle in the wheel that continues to crush those of lesser importance?
Warnings: Similiar setting to House of the Dragon (the era, how royalty works) but not entirely, dragons, eventual smut, deceit, violence, blood, all characters are over the ages of 18, mentions of different religions, misogynistic themes, character deaths. No beta readers, we die like kings. (Will update individual chapters with warnings also.) MDNI.
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The Glossary
Chapter I: ['The Barbarous Prince'] [28/08/22] [5086 wc.]
Chapter II: ['The Summer Solstice'] [31/08/22] [6829 wc.]
Chapter III: ['Seeking Respite'] [04/09/22] [8181 wc.]
Chapter IV: ['Dance of the Dragon'] [10/09/22] [7677 wc.]
Chapter V: ['The Crimson King'] [15/09/22] [7469 wc.]
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credit for the background image/banner: @vampyrsm please do not plagiarise, or recommend my work to places such as TikTok. Date format is DD/MM/YY.
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sunny12th · 1 year
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I see where the 'dragons are nukes' people are coming from in terms of the total devastation dragons are capable of in battle and in the hands of those that want to use them in such a way.
However, dragons are clearly meant to symbolize more than just their raw power in wartime. dragons are fire made flesh, dragons are Summer, dragons are flight and freedom, dragons are playful and warm, dragons are life in defiance of winter. dragons are the strength needed to break chains, topple corruption, and burn evil itself. dragons are flaming swords and lightbringers. dragons are loyalty and protectiveness. dragons are passion and mystery and magic.
dragons are the opposite end of the magical spectrum to the others.
and dragons are, above all else, lizard cats that like to bask in the sun and get scratches on the underside of their chins.
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kaerinio · 19 days
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my mind is buzzing with thoughts about the true significance of the house of the undying as not only a vehicle of prophecy and revelation . . . but as a huge figure of true foreshadowing (about the outcome of the upcoming long night).
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hamlets-ak · 8 months
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ice cream hunt ༊*·˚
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༘♡ summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the english language
on a hot summer afternoon reader and timmy go for an ice cream hunt in nyc
It was a warm smokey summer afternoon. New York was an oven. The day; Thursday, the most boring day of the week.
Windows and balcony doors opened wide, let the last sun rays swim inside your apartment alongside a small breeze that made the curtains fly and then linger on the floor. There was music from your neighbor's house concealed by the loud tireless honking of cars down the street.
You and Timothée were laying on the couch, only wearing the sunlight, half-asleep, half-awake, watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing TV shows. He held your feet on his lap as his head fell back melancholically, breaths escaping his pouty lips.
« Tim are you sleeping? », you asked. He mumbled something in response and then turned his head in your direction, face red, sweat holding onto the skin under his eyes.
« It’s so hot, » he told you. You smiled.
« You know what I want? », you asked.
« No. » You lightly tilted your head, the smile gradually growing until it reached your ears. Timothée groaned pulling his hair back and holding it out of his face already knowing what you wanted to tell him. « Baby, it’s so hot... »
« Come on! Let’s go out for a walk. »
« Someone literally got a heat stroke the other day- », Tim said. You rolled your eyes.
« You are just being lazy, » you murmured throwing your head back dramatically.
« I’m not being lazy. It’s just too hot outside. »
« We can go for a walk and get some ice cream. »
« Ice cream would be nice, » he mumbled.
« Then let’s go get it! », you said sitting better, your back leaning on the couch. Timothée just looked at you as you took your feet off him and stood up. « Come on, get dressed, » you motioned your hand to him.
« I’m so tired, I can’t even get up, » he told you, eyes following all your moves. You threw a t-shirt on top of his face.
« How can you be tired? We’ve been watching that crap all day. »
« Look, » he uncovered his face. « If you manage to pull me up from the couch, we’ll go get ice cream. » Your stare stayed at him for a few seconds and then you smiled.
« Your laziness is next level, » a chuckle escaped your lips. He beamed at you. « You want me to get you dressed too? »
« Yes, please. »
« Timothée get up, » you said putting on your t-shirt.
« Ah, help me, » he tented his arms forward.
« Lazy! »
« What do you mean? That’s my charm, » he smiled.
You walked closer to him and he tied his arms around your hips pulling you closer until his cheek touched your belly. You pulled his wild hair back and leaned to kiss his forehead.
« You are a lazybones but I still love you, » you lowered your gaze at him. He looked up at you with a grin that made his eyes squint and his nose wrinkle. Timothée nodded letting you take his curls back. « Come on, » you took his hands on yours, and before letting a wet kiss on the back of his palm, you pulled him up.
« You really want ice cream, huh? », he laughed wrapping his arm around your shoulder and giving you a peck on the lips.
« Ah, you are sweaty! » You lightly pushed his chest. He grinned as he picked up his t-shirt and put it on.
« Got the keys? », he asked once you got ready.
« Got ‘em. »
Wind rushed past you with razor teeth, hot like the breath of a dragon. You strolled down the street, two flames under the starless purple sky, dark and bright, streetlights following your steps. Timothée held your hand while crossing the road and he insisted on staying on the outside of the pavement, making your walk seem like an adventure.
You asked him if he remembered what was your favorite ice cream flavor and he just rolled his eyes as if you asked him his name. You laughed about nothing special while wandering around the city, watching the colors change above your heads until the sky turned into a blue shade like the deepest part of the ocean, and you finally reached the ice cream parlor.
« What will you get? », you asked.
« What I am always getting, » Timothée said and then furrowed his eyebrows wearing his playful smile. « You remember or... »
« Or... », you shook your head questionably. « I’ll just get you whatever I want. »
« Sounds good, » he nodded, curls bouncing up and down. You smiled as your hand fumbled on his hair and pulled it behind his ears.
You left him chuckling to himself while you walked closer to the counter. His eyes followed your every move and stayed on you even when you looked away. You turned back to him, eyebrows furrowed, and shook your head watching the way he was staring at you with his sweet smile and red cheeks. Timothée shrugged imitating your move.
« Here you go, » you gave him his cone but quickly pulled it back to take a quick bite. He pressed his lips together looking at you for a few seconds before bringing your arm up and taking out his tongue to lick your cone. You burst into laughter at the way his nose was covered in ice cream too.
« Dummy, » you smiled cleaning his nose with your paper towel.
« Yours is better, » he said. « Wanna change? »
You slid your hand around his arm as you made your way back home slowly with steady steps and different cones, following the sidewalk.
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sapphire-writes · 1 year
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hey there I'm Jo!
This is a collection of fanfic I have written for House of the Dragon. I most enjoy writing modern AUs but have a handful of canon era oneshots as well, so take your pick! Writing inconsistently and sporadically at the moment.
Happy to have you if you've stopped by to lurk or to follow 🖤
requests: CLOSED
updated: 3/24/24
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To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙
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💙 (completed)
💎 (in progress)
⁉️ (hiatus)
Aemond Targaryen
A Song of Flames & Fury (Baratheon!OC) 💙
Down in Flames (modern!AU & Band!AU) 💙
Our Last Summer (modern!AU) 💙
mini-series
An Ego Thing (modern!AU & College!AU) 💙 Do No Harm (modern! AU & Hospital!AU) 💙 The Campaign (modern!AU & political!AU) 💙 A Cursed Place 🎃 (modern!Halloween!AU) 💙
Aegon Targaryen
Thin Ice (modern!AU & college!AU & hockey!AU) 💙
Aegon & Aemond
Playing With Fire 💙
Jacaerys Velaryon
mini-series
Sweet Fruit 💙
Daemyra (Daemon & Rhaenyra)
mini-series
The Au Pair Duet 💙
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Aemond Targaryen
Dragon's Bane (part 1 ~ part 2 ~ part 3)
A Late Night Game
no matter what
Flowers
Childhood Friend
Unburnt
Come Into My Castle
An Unlikely Opponent
Catch Me If You Can
Star-Crossed
The Hidden Daughter 🥵
The Other Sister
A Debt Repaid
Disobedience 🥵
A Second Chance
A Night Out
Fear Not 🥵
Wildest Dreams
Snake in the Garden
Sapphire of His Eye
Family Tree
Winter Rose
Teacher's Pet (modern au) 🥵
Run From Me
A Morning At Home (modern au) 🥵
Faking It (modern au) 🥵
My Dragon
Just Friends (modern au) 🥵
Portrait of a Lady In Love
Remedy 🥵
Long Day (modern AU)
Pretty Little Thing (modern AU) 🥵
Aegon Targaryen
Coin Toss
Picnic
kiss it better
The Death of Duty
Dreams 🥵
The Things We Do For Love
Teach Me 🥵
My Cup Runneth Over 🥵
Hide With You 🥵
ceilings (modern au) 🥵
Daemon Targaryen
Mine to Lose
Helaena Targaryen
The Queens 🥵
Beneath The Cherry Tree 🥵
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✨please no reposting of my work on any platforms ✨
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humansofnewyork · 7 months
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(12/54) “She was brave in many ways. But there were three things that Mitra feared most: darkness, silence, and being alone. In Germany we’d take long walks through the countryside. Mitra couldn’t stand the quiet. She’d recite entire poems back-to-back-to-back. At the time she’d gotten into modern poetry. Her favorite poet was a young woman named Forough Farrokzhad. Mitra had many of her poems memorized. Farrokzhad was a modern poet. She wrote in free verse. She wrote from a feminine perspective. And she wrote about everything, including sex. By the time we finished Shahnameh I think I’d destroyed Mitra’s interest in the book. The book’s longest section is the historical section. Here the heroic nature of the prose fades. There are no more dragons. No more Rostam and Gordafarid. Here Ferdowsi writes about real people. He must stick to what is known. You can’t turn a real person into a mythic hero. That summer I took a road trip home to Iran. The Shah had just announced his White Revolution. It was a sweeping campaign of reform. Women were given the right to vote. Factory workers gained a share in profits. Agricultural estates were seized and redistributed to the sharecroppers who worked the fields. With a single stroke of his pen, the Shah gave more freedom to millions of Iranians. But not everyone supported it. When I arrived in Tehran the city was in chaos. Several buildings on my street were in flames. A cleric named Khomeini had come out against The White Revolution, and he’d ordered his followers to riot. Khomeini practiced a different kind of Islam. This was not the Islam of our fathers. This was not the Islam of the Persian Mystics. This was an Islam of cutting off hands, death for nonbelievers, and oppression of women. We thought these things were demons from our history. Monsters buried far in our past. But there’s a parable in 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪, where Rumi writes about a dragon frozen in a block of ice. The dragon seems to be dead. So the people place him on a cart and wheel him into the center of the city. They’ll soon discover that he’s still alive. He was only sleeping, waiting for things to heat up.”
 میترا در بسیاری کارها بی‌باک بود ولی از سه چیز می‌ترسید: تاریکی، سکوت و تنهایی. در آلمان به پیاده‌روی‌های طولانی پیرامون شهر می‌رفتیم. میترا تحمل خاموشی را نداشت. پی در پی شعرهایی را به طور کامل می‌خواند. در آن هنگام شاعر دلخواه او فروغ فرخزاد بود. فرخزاد شاعری نوگرا بود. او شاعر سبک نو بود. شعرهای او دیدگاه‌های زنانه داشتند. در هر زمینه‌ای می‌نوشت، حتا سکس. قشر مذهبی جامعه، او را زنی هرزه می‌خواند. میترا بسیاری از شعرهای او را به یاد سپرده بود. یک سال طول کشید تا شاهنامه را با هم خواندیم. هنگامی که خواندن را به پایان رساندیم، فکر می‌کنم از دلبستگی‌اش به شاهنامه کاسته بودم. بلندترین بخش کتاب بخش تاریخی آن است. در اینجا، سرشت حماسی سخن کم‌رنگ می‌شود. دیگر خبری از افسون و جادو نیست. از اژدها. از رستم و گردآفرید. در این بخش، فردوسی درباره‌ی انسان‌های واقعی می‌نویسد. هنگام نوشتن تاریخ باید به واقعیت‌ها پایبند بود. نمی‌توان شخصی عادی را به پهلوانی اسطوره‌ای تبدیل کرد. درآن تابستان، سفری زمینی به ایران داشتم. شاه به تازگی انقلاب سفید را اعلام کرده بود. یک کارزار فراگیر اصلاحات بود. زمین‌های کشاورزی زمین‌داران بزرگ به بهایی اندک به کشاورزانی که روی آن کار می‌کردند داده می‌شد. زنان از حق رأی برخوردار می‌شدند. سهمی از سود کارخانه‌ها به کارگران می‌رسید. در یک رفراندم به میلیون‌ها ایرانی آزادی بیشتری رسید. اما همه از آن پشتیبانی نمی‌کردند. هنگامی که به تهران رسیدم، چندین ساختمان را آتش زده بودند. یک روحانی به نام خمینی علیه انقلاب سفید قیام کرده و به پیروانش دستور شورش داده بود. خمینی به گونه‌ی دیگری از اسلام باور داشت. این اسلام پدران ما نبود. این اسلام عارفان ایرانی نبود. این اسلام بریدن دست‌ها و کشتن آزادی‌خواهان و ستمگری علیه زنان بود. اینها را اهریمنانی برخاسته از تاریخ‌مان می‌پنداشتیم. دیوهایی که در سال‌های دور به خاک سپرده بودیم. مولانا حکایتی در مثنوی دارد که در آن اژدهایی در تکه یخی منجمد شده است. گویی که مُرده است. از این‌ رو، مردم آن را بر ارابه‌ای نهاده و به مرکز شهر می‌برند. ولی بزودی در می‌یابند که اژدها هنوز زنده است. تنها در خواب بوده است و در آرزوی گرما. مرده بود و زنده گشت او از شگفت / اژدها بر خویش جنبیدن گرفت
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