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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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❝I am going to make him bow to me, brother. Mark my words.❞

[ Jace does not yearn for you. Does not wish for you. Does not want you. But oh, lies are bitter and brittle under a tongue that yearns to taste. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,753 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), might be small aegon ii x reader but it's one sided on aeg's behalf, sorry.

contains— manipulative reader, targarcest, mild nsfw, angsty - CANON DIVERGENCE - use of bastard, mentions of alcohol and slight phys. abuse (otto's a dick) - sort of non canon compliant, timeline is loosey goosey; in the books, rhae & dae visit kings landing frequently even after moving to dragonstone, so im going by that - nsfw: male masturbation, strong allusions to sex but no actual woohoo, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas. unedited.

a/n— for my boy jace, the prettiest dark haired prince there is. simp!jace you will always be loved by me. comments, reblogs & like at will! + dividers by @danowh0re + accompanied song: SWEAT— HAYZ.

Aegon, under the guise of weighty cups and half-mast eyes, slides beside you, following your gaze as you appraised the entrance of the Strong bastards into the courtyard.

"Are you sure about this, sister?"

"Does wine taste like heaven under grandsire's scolding, brother?"

Aegon snorts. As your twin, the difference between the two of you are more stark than people might think. Though you share the childish, almost babe like features that usually got women to bow down to Aegon— with your doe eyes, the soft cheeks, and the curled pout — where people think Aegon is a horrible mess of a git, your shared grandsire the forefront of this slander, you are quite the opposite. Beloved, dutiful, and innocent in the eyes of many.

It didn't matter that you wore green as prettily as your mother, or that your twin is a mess of wine and women— you were different. You were kind, pretty, and enticing.

A precious flower among green thorns, the smallfolk whispered.

People had even commiserated how, despite the typical Valyrian looks of silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, your Hightower lineage softened your edges. Your looks.

Your personality.

Snort.

"You know Aemond would rather see you insult the little bastard in half, than whatever it is that you are thinking of doing."

You hum as you don't remove your gaze from the dark haired prince, making jokes with his younger brother, Lucerys. From the corner of the courtyard, you and your twin could see Aemond sparring with Ser Criston with more vigour than he usually did, especially at the time of day. Occasionally, he spared the younger Strong bastard a glance that spoke of trying to unearth his insides from his body, no doubt imagining the very same as he swung his blade.

Aegon and you shared a look, stifling laughter, before you focused back on your prey. Jacaerys Velaryon. A name he uses like a shield despite having not a single drop of the sea in his blood. All you had to do was look at the dark hair, the skin and the nose of the First of Men before him.

How your half-sister Rhaenyra can say he was a Velaryon with a straight face is beyond you.

Your gaze might be searing as Jace looks up at the balcony from where you had been idly staring at him for the better half of the time, and you give him a wry sort of smile. A soft sort of smile. An acknowledgement. Just as he makes a nod of hesitant acknowledgement— unlike your brothers, you had not join in on the hostility and mean-spirited comments — you had already turned fully to Aegon as if you are enraptured by conversation.

"It's a contingency plan, my darling Aeg," you say softly as you brush the back of your hand to his face. You are aware of Jace's gaze now focused on you and your twin and you make it good for him. You make a performance. You follow the steps you've practiced so eagerly.

And eager for your soft touch, Aegon's eyes flutter in response. Ever since you were young, and seeing how harsh everyone is of Aegon and his failures, you decided you would be the kindness to him.

Though you do like him, another contingency plan for him wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, you can bet on a lot of things, but your grandsire's award-winning thirst for power and your mother's malady to anxieties are good tidings to see them planting Aegon on the throne and usurping everything from your dearest, oldest sister.

Aeg didn't need to know that, of course.

What he can know and what he can help with, is making sure Jacaerys was looking as you smiled softly at your brother, your gold and silver spun hair bathed in morning light, and in one of your favourite dresses— a white silver dress lined with black lace and green embroidery of dragons — you were angelic personified. The Maiden come to gather and soothe your dearest brother.

You capture Aegon's face in your hands, ever soft, ever sweet, as you smile at him. He's so deprived of physical touch that doesn't harm him that he sighs against your palms. You do feel a little bad, but you need this plan to work.

"I am going to make him bow to me, brother," you whisper, giving him a soft kiss to his temple. He shudders, hands placing them on your waist, enunciating the kind curves you sport. "Mark my words, that boy king will stifle under my hand and foot. Mother's fears will not come to fruition. All will be well."

"I am older than you," he says softly, half smiling.

A gaze sears at the side of your face, as strong as the concussive heat radiating off a dragon's maw as your thumb brushes across your twin's cheek.

There is that, you think amusedly. No one can deny the little heir is his mother's child. Bastard he maybe.

"And I am better," you whisper, snickering.

"That you are." But his gaze is past you, back at the courtyard, at the reason for the heat in your skin. A spark of jealousy is quick in his mulish blue eyes but you only laugh. Light but loud, echoing.

"Come," you say with finality, taking a step back and offering your hand as you make the conscious choice of not daring even a peripheral glance, and heading back inside the keep. "We shall see them at dinner. The king's orders."

Your brother makes a sound crossbred from a huff and a groan, and you are already making plans to ensure his wine is controlled for the night, lest he makes a fool of himself in front of the King— or gods forbid, your grandsire — and mayhaps ensure the seating arrangement once again with your mother.

But everthing else is background noise; your schemes and your plots, your facades and faces, because a faux Velaryon has made it known that he cannot keep his gaze away from you.

Everything else is moot.

Jacaerys Velaryon, firstborn son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, soon to be Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, does not understand himself.

Perhaps you are just eye-catching. Your hair is more gold than silver, but it shifts like a mirage against sunlight. You yourself seem to change under shadows and light, as if you're casting a new spell again and again. Your eyes, your lips, the slivers of presented skin (have you really shown this much skin, all this time?), and your hips.

They sway, like a panther's.

Like a dragon's.

Jace has always known you to be pretty; Helaena has always been his favourite aunt with the fact that she's quiet and doesn't antagonise him like your brothers. Because Helaena simply cared little for him not because he was Rhaenyra's son, or that he didn't look like his father, or because he was a prince of the realm set to become heir once his mother was crowned.

Helaena simply just didn't care about him as a human not as hisn ame or his blood, her thoughts lingering more in her bugs and the fat babes she had with her brother, humming nonsensical under her breath. Not insults.

You were different. You looked. Jace knew you looked but he had never caught you before. It's a dance, he later realises come dawn he is awoken and there is a weight on top of him in rings of gold and silver, breathing softly— alive and so very warm, and from that moment, his — but for now he doesn't know.

Doesn't understand.

Your gaze is weighty, leaving searing imprints like a dragon marking it's favourite horde. But it's so hard to catch.

It started at the training grounds. As if his Uncle Aemond's wasn't enough, there was yours. He knew but could only see once, and even that felt like it was deliberate, a mere nod. As if you controlled how he worked around your sphere, and by gods, were you beautiful. Then you had turned to your twin brother as if he was nothing to you— really, he was, in the scheme of things, you were the secondborn daughter of the Queen, no matter how pretty your visage or blood is, you are a woman and a third child (right after the firstborn daughter and son), and in the other end, Jacaerys was the first son and heir of the Princess of Dragonstone, soon to be Queen. In fact, you should be nothing to him.

He was to become King, and you to be offered to a lord. To be someone's wife, to relinquish your surname and become someone's mother. Rear your new lord husband countless of babes and live your life having fulfilled your sole duty.

It is a fact that tasted brittle and bitter in his tongue, like soot and ash, and he doesn't understand it. You had crossed his mind, idle as it maybe, from time to time, but nothing concrete. You are pretty, you are kind, mischievous at times, playful, and you purposefully don't keep him long in your orbit.

You were just another aunt. Aegon's Twin Flame.

Misbegotten to not even marry your brother.

It was at dinner that night, amongst clinking goblets and fat foods spilling the edges of the table, his grandsire having arrived, even Aegon, rumpled hair and sunken eyes but dressed and suspiciously sober— and you, your mother's favourite, her most affectionate daughter, late.

"Where is she?" Jacaerys heard the Lord Hand asked, but the Queen had no reply, as confused.

And then you arrive, not ten more minutes later, and Jace's entire body had locked.

Though he did not know why or what, he knew you were up to something. You arrived in a new dress from this afternoon— close to it's style, nothing like the Queen's or Helaena's, conservative high necks and pious ever green— no, you came as a surprise with a flutter of a silken hand and an embarrassed laugh, tipping to your father a kiss on the side of his good face.

Even as you sat, it took a good, long while before the chatter would arose again (from your gracious laugh at your father's compliment no less), before everyone's eyes— even Criston Cole's, ever loyal rat — would lift from your visage.

You were ethereal, simply put, in a dress that is not of pious ever green or high collar trim; but in a flutter of what Jacaerys remembers as his mother's gown when she was pregnant with Aegon, and the days got too hot. When the babe inside her, made of pure dragon, had made her a furnace burning from the inside out.

It was the same lightweight material draped over your skins, a thin material bunched up several times so it is not too sheer. Not too inappropriate. Jace doesn't know what the fabric is, doesn't care to, but it looks like flowing water against your body. It moulds to your movements. Your shape is obvious, so are the expose arms, collarbones, your chest dipping low, too low sometimes when you lean over and laugh, eyes alight— Jace's eyes cannot stay away, they are glued to your necklace, to the top of your smooth breasts — and the dress is held together in links of golden dragons, your hair made up in braids, in pearls and small emeralds, with curled strays framing your cheeks and smile, your exposed neck.

It was meant to garner looks, compliments.

But it was the colour that Jacaerys knew it was meant for him.

At the centre of your chest— your bosom that dips, two mounds, so soft looking and the urge to reach over and press his fingers down, see how soft and pliant you really are, hear the kind of noises you make, in pain or pleasure, his thoughts make him hiss, tightening his hold on his wine, pinching nails to skin to ground himself — it starts off a darken green, shifting, blending to a winter green, a bluer green, a seafoam that he is more than familiar with, before escaping the edges in deep water blue.

The colour of his father's house had never looked so good, so charming, so sinful before.

He tears his eyes away from you because it is improper to be staring so, to be looking at you and feel like he is feasting when he is rooted in his chair and still so hungry, especially with the plans of betrothal with Baela, his mother had already asked him if she is ever in his thoughts.

Baela who sits beside him, ramrod straight and keen-eyed, respectable Targaryen lady, a confidant and a good friend. She would make a good queen in the future, he had thought so before. Respectable and fearsome, the best parts of his stepfather and the late Lady Laena.

He shakes his head, swallowing down his slice of veal before he kicks Luke's leg under the table.

His brother yelps, a mournful irritated sound for his eyes had ogled far longer (just like he, but would never admit) on you than was proper, reminding him, and yet when you look up at the sound, your eyes— have they ever been so violet? — lands on him. Again.

When your gazes meet, he is enraptured, but he clears his throat and nods. "You look good, aunt." And because he cannot step, because his thoughts are cloudy and you are looking at him as if you know he can't stop looking at you, as if you can read each filthy thought he tries to stifle, as if you like it, he continues, "The sea green is a nice colour on you."

He can feel eyes on him, even the Lord Hand's. Even Aegon, goblet pressed against his lips, hiding a smirk. He burns, but he doesn't burn as bright when your smile stretches, your lids lower, and he burns so bright he fears he might be on fire.

The flames are licking him and he does not mind, so long as you keep your gaze.

"Thank you, nephew," you hum. "That is so very sweet of you to say."

And Jacaerys blushes, coughing once when he notices his lady mother giving him a look. Knowing. Curious but not probing, not yet. What he doesn't notice is the Queen's perceptive frown as she gazes at her daughter, the Lord Hand's raised eyebrow, or Aegon trying so very hard to stifle his laughter, turning to Helaena as if he is saying something to her.

But what Jacaerys does see is Aemond's intense glare, sharpened and rekindled and suspicious, and Daemon... The Rogue Prince is eyeing you differently. No longer just another Targaryen bleeding Hightower green, no longer just another offspring of the Hightower cunt.

No, Jace can almost see inside his stepfather's brain and see the Valyrian looks. The body of a woman freshly sloughed off the body of a child.

You are pretty and young and Daemon Targaryen is looking at you.

It shocks Jace how much he despises it.

It is for my mother, his thought persists even as he looks at you again and his insides whirl. I am upset for my mother.

Daemon Targaryen can see plainly what you are doing.

You've always hated that about men with good insight, who do not care for what is between your legs, only for your actions. For what it might do for what he cares about.

And Daemon cares for Rhaenyra, for Viserys, for the Targaryen legacy, pure and untainted.

(As if the blood of the First Men is okay to bastardise his bloodline but gods forbid the oldest and greatest of the Great Houses).

And he is now looking at you as if he has noticed the steps and webs you have spun around for his stepson, the direct legacy, and he is amused.

The dinner comes to a conclusion to a small dancing, and your twin, dutiful to you and your orders you had told him as you cleaned and prepared him for dinner; stood up, brushed himself off, and politely asked Baela for a dance— the latter looking so surprised he was fully sober, much less asking for her hand — that she found no excuse, and reluctantly accepted as they pivoted to the centre.

As Daemon continues to look at you, to unravel you as if you are an enemy in a battle map, you stand up quickly and turn to Aemond, smile wide and fake.

Jacaerys won't ask you to dance. He had drawn looks with his compliment, suspicion. Grandsire was right, they are planning to marry him off to Baela to strengthen their cause. Jace will not entertain anything anymore publicly.

Duty bound, honour bound.

But, but, but.

you are not a fool, you know men and their pissing contests. You are a daydream hiding a nightmare.

For the past few minutes, he had noticed Daemon's inquisitive, amused appraisal of you, and his brown eyes (pretty for a bastard's; Ser Harwin's lashes must have been long) had burned a different fire and it gives you an idea, an exhale of relief.

Jealousy can salvage anything.

You just need to push him.

And Aemond is beautiful, a true Valyrian King in visage, the Warrior come alive. You look so much softer when you are beside him.

"Sister?" Aemond looks up at you, curious, confused since the beginning of the night. There is a plot he isn't privy to, and he has been spearing glances at you, at Aegon, at his grandsire just in case he knew anything.

You were unmarried while Aegon had married Helaena. Your time is coming, and he loathes the idea of a betrothal to the Strong Bastard. He had made his complaints known when the missive came from your sister, asking sweet Helaena's hand for your son thinking your mother would have surely betrothed you to your twin.

Neither side knowing you had almost sent back your name, offering your hand.

"It has been a while since you had asked me to dance, little brother," you say, hands behind your back, framing yourself soft and playful. There are so many gazes on you, you play with it well.

"I was ten and one then, mandia sister, a boy."

"Too long," you tease. "Kessa ao daor lilagon lēda aōha mandia, valonqar? Will you not dance with your sister, little brother?"

He hums, acquiescing easily, and standing up. You peel a laughter that attracts a chuckle from the king. This is how you dance around the palm of Viserys I. Men like it when you play a part. Not to cost trouble, not to step over the line.

You aren't the elder sister, the firstborn child. You are means to further a line, not to have any important position. Rhaenyra is the exception only from the womb that bore her. You, like Helaena, are likened to fall in line and act like you like it. Like being a fat, old lord's wife has always been your dream. Bear his babes and suffer the trauma of hanging your life in the balance to produce them into the world.

It makes you burn with rage most days.

"What are you doing, mandia sister?" Aemond whispers against your cheek after having brought you close, dancing through the steps swiftly, keenly. It truly is a shame that Aemond doesn't dance oft.

"Won't you just believe and put your faith in the sister that you adore?" you snipe playfully. It's easy to use Aemond's hair to hide the glance you drop Jacaerys and see the seething glare he burns through your baby brother's head. Lust, yearn, jealousy— they dance and cook in his gaze. You giggle despite yourself.

"Grandsire will not allow you to marry that bastard," Aemond hums, unable to hide his irritation. You roll your eyes. Clever little brothers.

"As much love as I can grasp from my heart for our grandsire, valonqar, I am a dragon. I will take what I want. A tower is nothing to dragonfire. Grandsire oft forgets I am a princess of the realm and he is only a lord." You step back and bow as the song ends, as your father tires and wishes to go to bed. He only stays this long, or even leaves his chambers, when Rhaenyra decides to deign Kings Landing with her presence.

Always more for the heir. More effort, more love, more care.

And what is left for the other daughters of Viserys I?

He remembers Helaena's existence less, and if you do not make it a point to visit him everyday— to entertain him, read to him, laugh at being mistaken for Rhaenyra — you are sure you will be nothing more than a faint dream to him.

Your anger licked dark and green. Inside, it rages.

You watch as Jacaerys Velaryon says something to his mother, a rushed farewell, an excuse— a press of your fingers against your lips as you catch his breeches are tight, that his jaw is clenched — you step closer to Aemond once more, Aegon now drifting away from Baela and back into your orbit.

"Don't worry, little brother, I do not actually desire the Strong bastard. I want his crown."

Aegon giggles breathlessly, eyeing as Aemond's eye widen a fraction before he composes himself. "And what do you need now, sister, to accomplish such a beguilingly easy task?" Aegon snorts softly. There is only a faint scent of alcohol on him. You take it as win. "He's like a green boy from a quick flash of your chest. What more your tits in full display?" He leans close, mean and adorable. "You do not want a husband who is too quick for your own pleasure."

You swat his arm, pinching the soft flesh of his stomach before Aemond fully throttles him.

"Watch your tongue," Aemond hisses, fists clenching.

"It is okay. I take no offense, he is just being silly to rile you up," you placate him, pulling your twin closer to you just as Helaena approaches, shuffling close to your other side, burying her head against your collarbone. You hum, letting her quietly choose which physical affection she can take from you.

The four Green children, missing one. Scales of the dragon they may have, green fire burning from their maws. The four Green children, miss one. Sons and daughters of Viserys I. Nothing more than wombs and seeds for his legacy.

You finally turn to Daemon's probing stare and you keep it. "Keep his family away from him," you whisper to your siblings. You do not care if he understands. At this point, even your grandsire may have an idea for your plots.

And for the crown, for his lineage, no ambition is too small.

If he can send your mother to an old, grieving man after he had butchered his first wife, what ease it is to send a granddaughter willing to dance a scandal?

"I need him alone tonight."

You do not come to him immediately, more than knowing what he is doing. Maegor's Holdfast is a fun little place, with its secrets and tunnels. You had already studied the path to his apartments beforehand, and you are there, against the hidden way, hearing him fuck his fist to the vision of you, your name dripping and spitting from his pretty red lips.

You catching him after the high, chest up and down breathing hard. There is a self-loath, a disgust. You can just read his thoughts. When you enter, he is alarmed, a sword in his hand, guarded replaced to shock at the sight of you.

"Aunt," he whispers, appalled. Lustful. Righteous.

You tilt your head, unsmiling. You guard your thoughts as you approach, hands behind your back, voice soft. "Do you always reach to completion with my name in your tongue, nephew, or is today an exception?"

Jacaerys Velaryon flinches, sword hand dipping. "I—"

You are close, a hair's breadth away. Amusingly, he is struggling with himself. His honour in one hand, his desire in another. He wants to leap away from you and pull you close.

His choice is still open.

You answer for him.

"Would you like to know whose name falls from my lips when I reach completion?" you whisper against his lips. So close but still so far. Your fists are clenched behind your back, nails drawing blood. You cannot fail now. The Rogue Prince might be wandering now, ready to yank you or kill you.

You are a viper in a vipper's nest, and Daemon Targaryen is too late to realise you only want one true victim.

Jacaerys is drawn, the shock of your words melting to make way for the flutter of his eyes and the full shudder of his body as you lick a strip across his bottom lip, staining him.

Break yourself for me, Strong Boy, you think as he opens his eyes and stares at your lips. Break your oaths, your promises.

"Whose?" he asks, voice hoarse.

The surrender is at the hands he has brought first to your hips before he rose it slowly up and up, until his warm palms cupped your jaw, your face, swallowed in his hold. It is a delight to know his hands are bigger than your face, that he is told to tower over you. A boy king grown.

"Yours."

He groans but does not let you go. "I am betrothed."

You still. Such a Good, Strong Boy, resisting until the very fucking end. "I have not heard of such announcements, nephew."

"Mother will announce soon."

"Is that what you want then?" You grip his hands and stride forward until your are chest to chest. Until he can feel every outline of your body against his, until you can feel the hard line of his manhood against your stomach. Until he feels his own body breaking his oath.

"Please, Jace," you whisper, you beg. Your eyes begin to water. "I want you to take me... Only you. I have longed for you for so long. Your mother— my sister betrothed you to me first." He leans back, surprise flitting. "Yes, my love. But my mother had refused. I— I thought you would see it nevertheless. The affection in my gaze, the smile I give only to you. That I am offering my heart, my soul, my body to you. Only to you, Jacaerys."

Your tears are running down now, your voice so soft and so desperate. Where lust had clouded him, it is now tinged with a flattered adoration.

Men are so simple. Boys far simpler.

"I thought you knew," you say at last in a voice as broken as your heart. You take his hands away and step back. He grasps but you turn away, a sob wracks from your chest as fake as when you were a child, trying not to get in trouble with your mother so she can fire the septa that you hated. She had sneered at Aegon's drunken folly and was disgusted by Aemond's fresh wound.

You wanted her gone.

"Aunt, I—"

"It is alright," you cut him off. You turn back slightly, your smile watery, your gaze to the floor. "Aegon did not choose me either, unlovable as I am. Men only want me for my body and nothing more. I-I'll leave you be. Good night—"

You never finish your spiel because he had yanked you, hard, against him, his lips moving against yours— clumsily, not enough practice but aggressive in its desire — pressing you against him as if he is trying to swallow you whole.

Jacaerys is not bowing, not yet. But that night with his seed warm and full inside your womb, his body encased against your own, tightening whenever you made a movement, as if in fear any step you take away from him would slip you so freely from his fingers— his mouth, his lips, bruised by your own making, pressing featherlight soft against the side of your head, your hair — it is not too soon to think the boy king will bend the knee to you and only you.

And maybe the babe you bear him, but there is no need to rush. These steps are delicate but sure.

After all, he has only just cemented the thought that he will whisk you both to Dragonstone at first light, a traditional Old Valyrian wedding.

He will bow soon enough.

For now, you will enjoy your glowing win.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

A Mother for a Son

Summary: As Aemond leaves for a campaign at Storms End, he leaves his very pregnant wife struggle to bring their child into the world, suffering the consequences | Mini-Series Masterlist

Warnings: Childbirth, Death, Major Angst, tbh this is pure angst and nothing else to it I just like making myself sad, sorry

You hissed in pain as you tried to stand up straight, one hand instinctively resting on your lower back. A deep inhale didn't help matters either, but you felt maybe it was better than trying to soldier through the tightness. One hand was clamped around the handle of the chair, feet shuffling to go to sit in front of the fire and as you slumped into the chair, finally feeling the relief and pressure off your feet, your hand rested on the large bump on your belly. The infant inside as if feeling the touch of its mother kicked back, hurting slightly but it still bought a smile to your face.

"I wish you would not take your time, little one" you muttered, eyes wandering to the crackling fire, its heat almost soothing you through your thin nightdress. These days you had no use for heavy evening dresses, the past few weeks you had been confined to your nightdress exclusively as the pregnancy progressed to the end.

Your eyes fluttered open as your felt his hand on your swollen belly, your own lifting up to hold his arm lovingly, eyes meeting his lilac one. He looked down at you with such admiration and your heart swelled with love feeling his hands rub the bump.

He was dressed in his leathers to ride, braced for the cold that the storm outside would no doubt bring. Despite this, he knelt at your side, taking your hand to bring tenderly to his lips, peppering small kisses to your fingers, your palm and eventually on your unborn child. Your first child.

Your fingers delicately rubbed across his cheek, the only sound was the fire crackling and he wanted nothing more than to just stay with you, take care of you, for he knew how much pain you were in so late into the pregnancy.

"Must you go" you ask your husband. His eye opens to meet you again, a soft, sad look on his features.

"I must" he answered sadly, seeing your response, "I wish I did not have to, especially seeing the pain you are in, gevie ābrazȳrys"

You chuff at his words, "I do not feel beautiful. I feel like I am going to burst and every time they kick it hurts tremendously" you answer. Aemond smiled and looked back at the bump,

"Iksan qrīdrughagon, gaomagon daor ōdrikagon aōha muña, zaldrītsos" he says, making you smile.

The baby seemed to respond, a small kick appearing in his direction, earning a quiet laugh from you, "They heard you. Blood of the dragon indeed"

He seemed to linger by your side for a moment, taking your hands in his, a worried expression was clear on his features.

"I worry about you, my love. This is our first child, and you seem to be in such pain"

"Aemond…" you respond, touched by his concern. A concern that most husbands would not have for their wives. You reached out to his face, thumb grazing over the bottom of his scar. His lids seemed to flutter at your touch before meeting you again, as if in such bliss. "…my love, do not worry. Your mother has an army of midwives and she herself has had four children, I am in good hands"

There was a pause as you sat up in the chair, "Our child gives me strength, if they are anything like their father" you smile and so does he. Aemond seems to find this answer satisfactory as he leans up and gives you a tender kiss to your lips, feeling the warmth from your face on his. His hand rests on your jaw, pulling you further towards him as if wanting more, making your smile against his kiss. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, eyes focussed down on you,

"Please be careful" you say and he nods. He turned to leave, his hand lingering on yours for a moment before doing so, almost not wanting to leave, whether it be a small voice in his head telling him or not. He looked back once at the door, relishing the view he had before him. His pregnant wife, sat in front of the fire, smiling back lovingly at him. He nodded to you, muttering 'my lady wife' before leaving.

You felt a heaviness in your chest as he left, more in the hope that he would not be reckless once out on Vhagar. He could so often get carried away, you thought to yourself. Outside, the wind howled loudly and you could see the dark grey clouds in the sky run across the sky quickly, the rain creating rivers, you had not seen a storm this bad in King's Landing for a while. One could not tell if it was morning or evening, it was so dark with clouds.

A day had passed in King's Landing, but nobody would have known it. The storm raged on and on, the sun had yet to make an appearance and you had not heard a word from your husband. You stood at the window, hands tied together with anxiety, looking out at all the trees barren of their leaves, the wind having stripped them of their greenery. You took a deep breath, a kick from the baby landing straight on your bladder and you quickly took a seat at the window.

"Heed your father's warning, little one" you say, one hand rubbing over the large bump, remembering the way Aemond had spoken to the unborn child.

A knock at the door broke you out of this trance, Ser Criston Cole stepped in, "Yes?" you inquire.

"Queen Alicent, Princess"

You nodded and he stepped aside to allow the Queen to enter your chambers, a worried look on her features. She had her hair down as if to go to sleep but was dressed with a silk green robe over her, hands clasped together she offered a small smile which you reciprocated.

"You look tired, my dear" she said, coming to sit beside you once the door had closed. Your hand was still supporting the bump as if the weight was pulling down on you, you nodded.

"It is so, your Grace. I do not sleep at all with the weight of the baby" you answer, letting out a small groan of pain.

"I am sure the worry for my son is not helping your condition" she said, this is when your eyes met. You nodded sadly, looking out the window now.

"I worry about him, your Grace. Although you must also, I imagine. He is your son" you offer her a smile.

"Yes…" she trails off, "…I remember the day he was born. He was an easy labour, an easy child, seldom crying"

This made you smile, of course he would have been a good child. As if the gods had formed him themselves, you could only wish the same for your child.

Alicent had always been good to you and she was ecstatic to find you with child many moons ago. Of course, she already had grandchildren from Halaena and Aegon, but this time it was different, she was more attentive, almost overly so. Aemond had been the same when you informed him, excited but restrained somewhat. He often ran you baths to soothe your aching body, dressing you in moments of weakness, you could not have wished for a better and more attentive husband. His kindness astounded you.

You went to say something, when a pain hit you in a new place, sending a shock of pain through your hips. You moaned out in pain, louder this time, clutching your thighs and leaving marks where your fingers had been.

"What is wrong, my dear?" you heard Alicent say, but her voice was muffled through the wall of blurred pain you were still experiencing. That had been different, you thought, and your mind raced with the possibilities. The pregnancy was nearing its end and this was the thought that worried you the most, your hands began to shake in fear.

"Something is wrong…" you said quietly, so hushed thar Alicent had not heard you as you starting to slowly kneel to the ground, one hand in front to stabilise yourself.

Alicent herself got on the floor in front of you so as to hear you better, one hand placed at your arm in comfort. Your hand brushed your thigh and you pulled it from beneath your nightdress to find that your entire palm was bright red with blood, Alicent was now silent, taking one wide look at your hand and then into your eyes.

Your eyes had welled up with tears, some for the pain and some for the fear, but you met Alicent's eyes.

"Something is wrong" you said more clearly now.

The wave of pain began just then and like a military operation, midwives surrounded you, setting down dark towels on the bed to place you on top. As you were laid on the bed, the pain worsened and you kept screaming out with every contraction, the midwives and Alicent attempting to calm you down without any help whatsoever.

Now, the room had filled up with a dozen people, two of which were the Hightowers huddled in the corner. Alicent's face was red with worry and he kept rubbing her hands together, speaking in low voices with her father,

"This is not usual" Alicent said to her father, he shook his head, eyes every now and then landing on you reeling in pain on the bed, "even with four children, father, I know that this should not happen"

"Has word been sent to Aemond?" he asked, Alicent nodded her head quickly, "What has been said"

"That the Princess has begun her labours"

"Good, it would be best to leave the in-depth details"

You shook your head, wanting the pain to just cease, muttering under your breath Make it stop, make it stop. You pulled yourself to your knees weakly, grasping the bed frame, being upright making the pain slightly less unbearable. You could feel the pressure of the baby trying to make its way out, this feeling remained through the next contraction.

"Where is my husband!" you scream out, Alicent is at your side immediately, holding your hand,

"He is on his way back, my dear, you are doing brilliantly" she said, you held her hand tightly. Through your blurry vision you saw Halaena had entered the room, perhaps to offer some support, but the thought left your head as quickly as it had entered as another quick contraction ripped through you like a dagger.

"I need him, I need him now. Something is wrong, Alicent…" all pleasantries of titles were thrown out of the window as the pain seared through you, like a hot poker had been pressed harder and harder into you.

"You are doing well, my dear, I know it is painful but you just have to push" she said. You swear you could hear the wood splinter as you grabbed the bedframe again, fingernails dug deep in it to alleviate the pain inside your body. The midwife sat behind you pulled your shift to your waist to examine.

The midwife slowly approached Otto in the corner, "She is not progressing quick enough, we must consider the possibilities"

Otto looked sadly at Alicent, who as if knowing exactly what they had been talking about, turned back to you, placing a cloth to your forehead, face and chest now shining with sweat.

"Listen to me, my dear. You have to push for us, okay?" she instructed, motherly instincts now kicking in.

"An eye for an eye…" Halaena said quietly from the corner, nobody having heard her, "…a mother for a son…"

"I can't…" you reply, breathless, "…it hurts…please…where is my husband…" you ask in between breaths, contractions ramping up again. You looked over to Alicent, tears streaming down your face, her look was fierce now. She knew the pain of a child, she knew how the will wavered during labour and this knowledge seemed to spur her on to support you.

"You can" she simply said and you took a deep breath, pinning your eyes shut and pushing with all your might. Various hands reached at you, some in joy at finally seeing the head of the child you had so long laboured for finally appear. You gripped Alicent's hand tightly, taking in another deep breath to push once more.

"Just a little more, Princess!"

With one final scream and push, you felt the baby vacate you and an empty feeling dawned upon you. You found you were still gripping the bedframe hard, face still shining with sweat, body still shaking.

"Congratulations, Princess. You have a very healthy boy" once of the midwives said as they cleaned your baby. You heard his cries but they never registered, you still felt completely dissociated, dizzy…

Your back met the back of the bed, finally being able to lay down after so much toil, Alicent had a sad look on her face, still dabbing your forehead, "Well done" she said quietly.

Your heavy eyes landed on the midwife next to you, who was handing you the small bundle which your weak arms gratefully took. You looked down at the tiny human in your arms, with little wisps of hair on top. The child was barely bothered about the trouble it had caused and had its thumb in its mouth, breathing quietly. You could not help but smile down at the child, your finger running over his cheek slowly, they were flushed with the loveliest colour.

Aemond would be thrilled, you thought.

You looked up to Alicent, she was craned over, doting on the child already, "He is wonderful, my dear. Well done"

You smiled weakly, eyes fluttering closed, "I feel…tired…" you say weakly. Alicent furrowed her brows, seeing your face go pale slightly and arms go weak. Her eyes found the sheets and pulled them back, only to find the entire bed soaked in blood.

"Get the maesters, now!" Alicent said, but your senses were too blurred to notice what she had said, or how you were feeling. You could not explain how you felt exactly, there was pain to be sure, but it was disappearing second by second and a warm feeling was replaced. Feeling weaker by the second, Alicent quickly took the child from your arms, your hand instinctively went to reach out.

"Where is…Aemond…" you ask, his name ghosting on your lips over and over as midwives rushed out and maesters rushed in. But you barely noticed as your vision faded, smiling as you imagine Aemond with his child.

The next few hours were a blur for the Red Keep. Alicent had confined herself to her own chambers, sitting disassociated in her armchair, the child now with the maids for care. Opposite her sat her father, Otto, who was also absent-mindedly staring into the fire. The storm had finally passed, leaving just the dark night sky behind, scattered with stars and the big bright moon.

Alicent bit her lip to stop herself from crying, fingers grasping the arms of her chair tightly.

At the door, Ser Criston, "The Prince is back, my Queen" he simply said. With lightning speed, Alicent raced up, Criston Cole not far behind, briskly walking through the Red Keep's corridors to meet her son before anyone else.

At the end of the hallway, Aemond had rounded the corner, looking wet through and heavy. He met his mother's eyes, but he seemed vacant and Alicent felt her heart panic, did he already know? She thought to herself.

She ran to her son, taking his cold hands in hers. His mouth hung slightly open as if to say something, "Aemond, what happened? You are freezing" she said hurriedly. It took a few moments for Aemond himself to have the courage to face his mother, to find the right words for what he had done…

"Mother…" he finally replied. Alicent was surprised when she found his eyes, he looked as if he was going to cry, his face was wind struck, hair still damp and his voice was barely a whisper, "…I fear I must tell you…the terrible thing I have done…" he said.

Alicent gripped her son's hands tighter, behind her Halaena had stopped to stand next to Criston Cole, this made Aemond's mind rush slightly, why were so many people anticipating his return…unless they knew.

"Do not worry about that now, let us get you warm-"

"I lost control" he simply interrupted, Alicent fell silent, furrowing her brows.

"What do you mean?"

"I was just trying to frighten him…I…." he trailed off, his eyes found the floor, a spot of rain fell down his face.

"Aemond, what happened" Alicent asked, just wanting a straight answer.

Aemond could no longer process it and fell to his knees, Alicent held his head against her as if in protection of her large son, "Luke…"

A wave of realisation hit Alicent at what he meant and she looked behind her at Criston and her daughter, Halaena was already looking down muttering to herself, a mother for a son, a mother for a son. It was only here that Alicent had realised what Halaena actually meant and her face went white as a sheet, her hand still being grasped by her son, kneeling on the floor.

After gathering some part of himself, Aemond stood finally, allowing the servants to take his soaked coat away from him.

"Where is my wife?" he asked quietly, taking a breath. There is was, the fated question. Alicent was silent again and almost stood stock still in her place before realising Aemond was walking down the corridor to his chambers, where he knew his wife would be.

"Aemond!" Alicent shouted after him, "Aemond, stop!"

Ser Criston joined in the chase, going to push Aemond back out the room as soon as he had entered, attempting to shield him from this hurt. But it had been too late.

His eyes scanned the room for a moment, there were many maesters and maids in the room before him. The maids all paused to give the Prince a curtsey before resuming their duties, before continuing to wash the blood stained sheets in the pink water before them. The sheer sight of this horrified Aemond, making his heart sink into his stomach.

Criston's hand had been on his chest the entire time, "My Prince, it is best you leave" he said, making eye contact with Alicent who was standing by the door, a sad expression on her face.

Aemond did not violently break free, but simply stepped forward into the room. His face was still, mouth slightly agape as he saw a bloodied figure laying in the bed, but still not confirming who it may have been.

The maester who was hovering over the figure turned to the Prince, "My Prince, please, we are preparing the body-"

Aemond had ignored everyone and continued over to the bed. His breath died in his throat when he saw you, his wife, the entire bottom half of the bed caked in dark blood. You lay there on the bed, eyes slightly opened and your bloodied hand reaching out for nothing, Aemond had realised now he had fallen to his knees on the floor before the bed.

"No…" is all he said, his hands shakily reached out to take your outstretched one, surprised by the still and coldness of it. He felt the hot tears begin to spill down his face as he looked upon yours, "….my love, please…"

He could not help the feeling of guilt that spread in his chest, consuming his heart. Whether he liked it or not, he had become a murderer, a kinslayer, in a mere night. He had taken away someone's son, so his son took away his wife.

He felt the desire to avenge your death, but the tears flowed quicker with the knowledge that nobody was responsible for your death, except for him. He knew women often succumbed to blood loss and infections from childbirth, but thought that because of your pure soul and the unwavering love you had for him, surely you would be exempt from such a cruel fate.

Aemond did not leave you the entire evening until forced to by the maesters and the sisters.

How the gods could be cruel, he thought, when confined to his own room. He had not even dared look at his newborn son, fearing he may inflict some kind of doom on him also. Or maybe he feared he might push guilt onto the baby for your death. He had what any noble gentleman wanted, a son. But he did not feel any richer from this and was instead consumed by loss for weeks.

When he eventually spurred up the courage to see his son for the first time, he could not shift the ghost of your face that was visible in the child's features. He only felt empty. Like a part of his soul had been ripped from him. Perhaps this part of him would be lost forever.

Alicent never saw her son again as she knew him before.

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond x OC #Aemond x Reader #lady alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd angst #halaena targaryen #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #house of the dragon

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

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

Half-Blood Rivalry || D. Targaryen x oc

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 month later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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idksmtms · 3 months

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For Anyone But Us (Criston Cole x Alicent's Daughter!reader)

A/N: Sorry Daeron, you didn’t exist here either

Summary: You had grown up with Ser Criston as your protector, and almost a father figure. You didn’t know when exactly you began to crave him in carnal ways, in ways that had you blushing redder than a summer strawberry and running to hide away. But now you can handle it no longer. You must have him.

Word count: 3,867

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap, oral f & m receiving, handjob, smut smut smut, self-hating, slightly manipulative reader (??), daddy issues, sexualising a father figure, era-typical negative view of sex, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You sat in your mother’s quarters, embroidery on your lap and a gentle melody humming from your lips. She was answering letters at her writing table while you reclined on her couch, enjoying the sudden breeze that had settled upon king’s landing and blew through her open windows. Occasionally you looked up to Ser Criston, standing stoic as ever by the door, and offered him a joyful little smile, one which he returned in his own muted way.

Since you were born, you have been your mother’s constant companion. From her breast to her lap to her side, you have spent almost your entire life beside her. You are her youngest child, the apple of her eye by far, and the one that looks most like her. When you cried, she was the only one to comfort you, when you showed an interest in music, she had the best musicians come to foster your talent, when you said you wanted to learn history, she had as many books as would fit in your chambers brought from the library. You may be half Targaryen, but you will always be Alicent’s daughter.

Due to being your mother’s constant companion, you soon became one for Ser Criston as well. Alicent trusted no guard more than Ser Criston and so he often had the task of being your carer. He has soothed your tears and washed your cuts when you’ve played too hard. He has tickled you until your laughs became shrieks and been the first to compliment every single one of your new dresses. You have grown up watching Ser Criston be your mother’s protector, be your protector. When you think of safety, you think of his face. So it makes sense that when you look upon his face as he watches out the window, a stoic set to his lips and brow, that your chest heats up and an errant throb pangs between your legs?

You don’t really remember when you started feeling this way for him. You vividly remember one night, a feast for some celebration or other, and your mother had gifted you a new dress made of silk dyed in thin red water to make the prettiest baby pink. The maids had done your hair with intricate braids and curls that fell down your back but left your neck and chest exposed. You had rushed out of your room and found Ser Criston first, hopping in front of him to show off the dress. You had spun around in excitement, swishing the skirt of your dress back and forth and asking him what he thought. He had said you were the most beautiful girl in the world with a smile on his face and those dark eyes of his that never truly softened and kept a certain harsh quality to them. Your whole chest had turned red and your stomach had twisted in the most pleasurable way and you had wanted him to watch you for the rest of eternity. Even during the feast you had kept standing by him despite your siblings scolding you to mingle, pouting like a child if he turned his attention away from you for even a minute.

Another memory, only a few years past, when Aegon had said something to upset you and you had come sobbing to your mother. After soothing your tears she had left you in her quarters under the watchful eye of Ser Criston to go and scold Aegon. You had sidled up to him, asking if whatever taunt Aegon had made was true. He had been quick to shush you, telling you that Aegon was a young man and he could still be stupid, that you needn’t take everything he said to heart. You had pressed yourself to his chest then, wrapping your arms around the armour on his midriff. He had gently rubbed your back for a few moments before clearing his throat and pulling away, guiding you back to the couch and bringing you whatever embroidery project you had left on the side table. But the feeling of his large hand on your back, his palm and fingers spanning so wide, his smell and even the look of his skin from so close had stuck inside your mind and body and you had tossed and turned that entire night to thoughts of him.

You startled out of your thoughts of the man when your mother abruptly stood from her chair, tutting as she mumbled to herself about the time. You knew she was overdue to tea with Larys Strong so you smiled cheekily at her as she breezed past you, pressing a kiss to your head before heading to the door.

“Ser Criston, stay here with Y/n, I shall take Ser Berrill with me to my meeting,” and she was out the door before Criston could nod his assent.

You smiled then, looking to where Ser Criston stood and abandoning your embroidery to skip over to him. He smiled at you, bowing his head in greeting and you giggled. Criston didn’t know when that had become his favourite sound in the world but it was better than even the Septon bells on a wedding day.

“I think I shall head back to my quarters Ser Criston, accompany me?” You asked, reaching to grab his arm and threading yours through his. Criston cleared his throat and nodded, his neck and cheeks going hot at the feeling of your body pressed so close to his side. It was inappropriate for a girl of your age and stature to be standing so close to him. But you had been doing this all your life, and despite the whispers that now began to pervade the keep about this behaviour, you refused to stop. (And of course Ser Criston was incapable of saying no to you).

Criston opened the door and led the way out into the hallway, walking slow enough for you to keep pace with him. You were chattering on about something or other, he was too busy surveying your surroundings to fully pay attention, and the glimpse of your breasts that he caught every time he looked down to you was enough for him to keep his eyes away from your form completely.

“...and that’s why Aemond has cemented his place as my favourite brother.” You giggled and he couldn’t help but look down to you again, smiling distractedly when he caught sight of the way your breasts curved under your emerald green gown, at the slight bumps of your nipples that he could see through the fabric.

“He is a true prince of the realm and a great brother for you, Princess,” Criston answered, hoping it would be enough of an answer for you. You smiled and nodded and began on another story but stopped as you reached the doors to your chambers. You paused outside the door, opening and closing your mouth a few times. You chewed at the tip of the nail on your index finger and looked up at Criston with big doe eyes that had his entire body clenching up.

“Ser Criston… would you come into my chambers with me? I don’t particularly feel like being alone right now.” You were twisting side to side at the waist lightly, hoping he would cave.

“I do not think that is appropriate Princess,” he replied quietly, voice going low and gruff.

“Please, Ser Criston? There is nothing wrong with my protector joining me in my chambers,” you argued, eyes going teary.

“Princess…” he sighed, shaking his head. “We may know we are not doing anything scandalous but others will not know. I will not be responsible for anyone questioning your honour.” You sighed, almost admitting defeat, before looking up at him once more.

“What if there is someone in there right now, waiting to destroy my honour? Then it would be irresponsible of you not to accompany me into my chambers,” you smiled triumphantly, before quickly pouting again when you remembered that cheekiness would not work in your favour.

“Do not speak of such things Princess,” he replied sharply, swallowing aggressively at the thought of someone daring to come close to you with those intentions.

“Then do not risk it Ser Criston and accompany me into my chambers,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Criston sighed once more before nodding in acquiescence. He knew you would always win, it was only a matter of how long he was willing to fight against you.

You smiled brightly and grabbed onto his arm, dragging him into the room with you and shutting the door firmly behind you, sliding the lock closed before Criston could even realise you had done it.

You leaned back against the door and watched him stand in the middle of the room, looking around the entire room before deeming it safe for you. He turned back to you and saw the mischievous smile on your face before sighing once more.

“The room is safe Princess, I must return to my guardpost now,” he said, but he knew it would be easier said than done leaving now that he was inside. You just shook your head, continuing to block the door.

“But I don’t feel safe Ser Criston, you must stay and continue protecting me,” you whined, rushing forward and falling to your knees right in front of him. You clasped one of his hands between yours and pouted as he began trying to get you to stand up. If someone walked in now and saw the princess on her knees in front of a knight, he would be sent to death quicker than he could pray for forgiveness.

“Stand up Princess, please, you should not be on the floor,” he sounded pained, holding onto your elbows and trying to get you to stand without yanking you up. You just shook your head and did something that made his heart stop directly in his chest. You brought his hands to your lips and gently kissed the backs of both, staring up at him from under fluttering eyelashes.

“This is exactly where I should be, Ser Criston. You have protected me my entire life, you have cared for me like no other, loved me like no other. I am devoted to you even beyond the gods. It is only right that I show you my devotion, show you my thanks, right here on my knees.” All breath abandoned him as he looked upon you, innocent and pure, on your knees with your face right by his cock. He swallowed harshly, shaking his head. No, no, no. He could not do this. He had abandoned his vows once already. And while he wholeheartedly believed that if he abandoned them with you then it wouldn’t be a waste as it had been with Rhaenyra, the thought of sullying you, of allowing himself to feel all that… heat and desperation, filled him with a shame that would eventually kill him.

“Princess, please heed my words, you cannot do this, we cannot do this. You say I have protected you my entire life, and it is from this too I have protected you. From the men who wish to steal your honour and sully your body. I will not be one of them.” He wanted to sound firm but it came out pleading, almost verging on a desperate whine that had you frowning and tilting your head.

“I only want you, Ser Criston. I don’t want any other, and I know I never will. You have never denied me anything, please do not deny me this,” your lip began to wobble and tears pooled so quickly in your eyes that they began to spill over before he could try and sway you away. You began to blubber and he dropped to his knees awkwardly in his armour,

“Please don’t cry Princess, please don’t cry,” he begged, throwing off his gloves and cupping your face with his hands as you began to sniffle. His skin was rough and warm and you rubbed your cheek into his palm like a puppy.

“You will not be sullying me, you will still be protecting me. If you do this for me then I will know what love feels like and I will know how to judge a suitor. I-I will know what pleasure feels like,” you added shyly, leaning closer to him. “You will only be teaching me. There is nothing wrong with teaching, you have been teaching me and my brothers since we were children.”

Criston sighed and shook his head, grunting at the battle that waged a war in his head. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept looking at you he would break much too quickly. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for anyone. It was wrong to be such a lustful creature. But you whimpered and whined in his hands, turning to press open-mouthed kisses against his palms and he could feel the cracks appearing in his resolve along with his shame. When you took his index finger into your mouth, sucking on it like a child with a treat, the feeling of your warm, wet, mouth had spikes of hot pleasure shooting through his body and any remaining resolve dissolving as easier than salt into water.

Criston moaned, too loud for his liking, and his breath shook out of him, head bowing as he panted against his chest. You could see the change in him, could see that you had won as his free hand began to roughly tug at the straps of his chestplate. It fell away and clattered onto the floor as you continued sucking on his finger, swirling your tongue around the digit. Criston sucked in a breath before pulling his finger from your mouth, cupping your cheek with the same hand and spreading your spit over your face. He pulled you into a kiss, a harsh thing that had you gasping and keening and yelping slightly when your bottom lip pinched between his mouth and your teeth. But all bonds on him had been unleashed, and he was ravenous.

You fell against him, becoming just as desperate though with far less experience. You shoved your hands into his hair and pressed your chest to his, settling yourself onto his lap as he fell back onto the floor, torso held up by his elbows. He plunged his tongue into your mouth while you collected your skirts into your hands so you could sit on him without any intrusion. Criston pulled away from you, panting against your mouth for a moment before gently shoving you off and standing up again. He began undoing the rest of his armour and you sat on your knees and watched him. His hair was mussed from your hands and his cheeks had gone rosy pink. You heard the clanks of metal as each piece fell away and more of his body was revealed to you. The soft clothes he wore underneath were next, his shirt pulled over his head and tossed to the side without a care in the world.

The soft bronze skin of his abdomen was taut and curved along each defined muscle. A light dusting of dark hair sat along his chest and trailed down his stomach until it disappeared below his breeches. You couldn’t handle being away from him any longer, a desperate heat crawling over your skin as if bugs had begun buzzing under your skin.

You shuffled forward on your knees until you were right before him. You pressed a hand to the warm skin of his stomach, lightly scratching your nails down toward the waist of his pants. He shuddered, curling forward slightly and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Princess…” he sighed, but he didn’t stop you either.

You slipped your fingers into the waistband and slowly began to move it down. His cock caught in it before popping out and gently slapping against his abdomen. You stared at it, mouth suddenly full of saliva and legs trembling. You reached out and grasped it, the skin soft and burning hot. The tip was bright red and glistening, a small pearl dribbling out of it and sliding down the length. Another pearl dribbled onto your hand and you tightened your hold on him, listening to the gasps and moans he let out. You didn’t know where the desire to kiss it, to lick it, came from but you didn’t deny a single thing your body desired. You leaned forward and licked just under the head of his cock, smacking your lips slightly to try and decipher what exactly the taste was, before going in for another lick. You ran your tongue up the length of his shaft and back down. The hand on your shoulder clenched tight into your gown and pulled you closer to him. You opened your mouth wide and took the head just past your lips, suckling on it. You stared up into Criston’s face, his mouth open as he panted and moaned like he was in the most pain a man had ever felt. The sounds of your mouth smacking as you suckled on his cock echoed into the room and you rubbed your legs together. It sounded so wrong but oh so good.

You pulled off of his length before going back to drag long licks along the length of his shaft. Everywhere you could reach you licked until Criston was keening loudly and pulling away.

“Princess! Princess, please,” he huffed, cupping your face as you sat there staring up at him. You reached to your back and pulled on the ties to unlace your dress as much as you could on your own. The top loosened and the collar fell below your breasts, baring them to the cool air and the eyes of your protector. Your nipples had pebbled and you shivered as the cool air of the keep brushed over your skin.

Criston stood you up and you allowed the dress to fall fully to your waist, smiling unashamedly as he continued to stare at your body. You wanted him to see you, to see every part of you. You loved him like you had loved no other, and you wanted to show him somehow. He led you to your bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you. He bent forward and kissed the space between your breasts, rubbing his cheeks against the flesh on either side of his head. He breathed in the smell of your skin, kissing along the softness to your left nipple. He swirled his tongue over it, flicking it, before engulfing it with his mouth and sucking lightly. His mouth felt too hot against your skin and you moaned as you leaned back slightly to continue watching him.

Criston pulled away and cupped your other breast, massaging it and rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. It felt almost ticklish on the sensitive skin but sparks shot through you all the same.

“Ser Criston,” you whimpered, pressing your chest further into his hand and hoping he would put his mouth back to the skin.

“Yes, Princess, yes,” he said hurriedly, but instead of returning to your breasts, he bent at the waist and brought his face to your pussy. You gasped, his thumbs resting against either side and peeling your sticky lips apart.

You had felt the slick begin to seep out of you and slowly spread from your hole and over your lips, but to see his face begin to press between your thighs, to feel his thumbs gently rub the soft skin and hear the way he inhaled deeply as he settled his chin on the crevice of your thighs had you moaning louder than you ever had before.

“We must be quiet Princess,” he whispered, but you paid it no heed as he dove his tongue between your thighs right then.

His tongue was hot and wet, the rough bumps rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin of your pussy. He licked from bottom to top before focusing on a little nub near the top of the crevice, suckling on it so heat shot straight through you and your legs buckled. You were bowing over him now, nails digging into the skin of his back as you rested on his shoulder, panting and wailing. He lapped at your cunt like a dog drinking water, desperate and aggressive. He slurped and pressed his face as far as it would go into your flesh. You could feel his chin rub against the skin of your thighs, slipping and sliding in the juices that had dribbled out of you. From this angle only the tip of his tongue could reach your hole and he pushed it in just so, pulling it out and pushing it back in so your entrance clenched and unclenched over it, the rim becoming sensitive.

“Ser Criston!” You wailed, bucking against his face as he moved it back and forth, his nose rubbing against that swollen little nub that made you feel like the world was bursting behind your eyes.

You pressed your mouth to his back, and in a fleeting moment of clarity remembered that he needed to reach his release as well. You slid one of your hands between your bodies and grasped his cock, choking on a gasp when he moaned right into your flesh and the vibrations spread through every nerve ending. You grasped him tighter and he hissed. You mumbled apologies into his skin before beginning to jerk your hand back and forth along his shaft, listening to the squelch of not only his mouth on your pussy but his cum spreading over his shaft beneath your hand. The pleasure rose within you, his hips bucked frantically up into your hand, your legs twitched uncontrollably, your skin was on fire. Everything felt like it was moving too fast all of a sudden, a wave rising in your legs and stomach and deep in your core. He was moaning against you and the vibrations finally sent you over the edge, heat and overwhelming pleasure throbbing through you. Your fingers twitched and your arms felt like jelly and your ears were rushing with blood. You couldn’t hear Criston’s moans as he spurted onto your thighs and hands, as he pressed his face to your stomach and moaned.

When your ears quieted you could hear the mingling of both of your panted breaths, could feel the saliva that had drooled from your mouth and smeared onto his back under your cheek. Your weight was completely resting over his shoulder and you could feel the stickiness all along your thighs, the breeze beginning to cool it and sending shivers down your spine. Your hand was sticky and you slowly peeled it away from his cock. Criston shivered and slowly brought you off his shoulder and into his lap. You stared into his eyes, deep brown and endless. He leaned down and kissed you, lips salty and slick.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” you said, smiling against his mouth.

Taglist: @autumnhymns

#hotd x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #criston cole x you #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole x oc #ser criston #alicent hightower #queen alicent #alicent's daughter reader #team green #hotd smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month

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THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Season 1

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair were dark, but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen and her wrath was not different from the one that burn in the members of the House of the Dragon.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon Fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen x OC #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen

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hisfavegiri · 4 days

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One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader.

Warning : typical inscet Targaryen, angst, mentions of an affair, harsh language, mention of blood, miscarriage.

You looked at your husband with the knife still at his neck, your tears flowing freely. You ignore the screams of your mother and sister asking you to stay away from Aemond, you are really angry now that Aemond has crossed the line.

"What are you waiting for? kill me now” you could see Aemond smile a little and it made your stomach turn, how could he be this calm when there was a knife at his neck?

"You think I can't do it, huh? You're wrong husband, I really can" once again you pressed the knife deep into his neck which you guaranteed might have hurt him because you could see the change in his expression a second ago.

You continued to stare at him sharply and angrily, but suddenly you dropped the knife in your hand. You may be angry and disappointed, but you still love him. he looked at you in shock and you ran out.

You ignored everyone's whispers and stares as you ran towards your chambers, you no longer cared what they said. As soon as you enter your chambers, you throw everything and scream.

You ignore the knock that comes from outside the door, you feel empty, you feel weak, your husband, the person you love has a child with someone else. A bastard, news that you can deny as strongly as possible, but it turns out that today the woman, Alys, brought their son and you saw him. A son that Aemond longed for was in her arms.

Suddenly your world was destroyed, the dreams you had created together with Aemond suddenly collapsed. You kept crying and screaming until your throat felt hoarse, You decided to stay in your chambers, you wouldn't come out to anyone. even your mother and your twin sister.

“My love? can you let me in?” You hear the soft voice of your mother who has been begging you to come in for three days, but you still hold on firmly and don't let her in.

you can hear her breath before she knocks again, “you should at least eat, I'm worried about your health love.” You remained silent, you hadn't even touched the food she brought you yesterday.

when night falls, your mother still continues to persuade you to open the door. This time she was accompanied by your sister, Haelena. “y/n.. please open the door, talk to me” but they noticed that your chambers door was no longer locked.

When they opened the door to your room, your mother screamed hysterically when she saw your current condition. You are lying on the floor with blood coming out from between your legs, there are also bloodstains on your mattress, there are visible tear marks on your cheeks and soft sobs are also coming out of your mouth.

"M- mother.. what happened?" that's all you can ask, Haelena ran out to call the Maester while your mother shouted for Aemond. You slowly closed your eyes making your mother panic even more and suddenly everything went dark.

You lie on the bed, your mother and sister always visit and even accompany you. It's been almost two days since you were unconscious after that incident, the incident where you lost your first child who you didn't even know was growing inside you.

When you find out that you have just had a miscarriage, you feel very useless, you feel broken, and feel empty. you blamed yourself until your mother told the Maester to give you medicine to help you sleep.

You growled as you felt extremely dizzy, you blinked your eyes and looked around you. until your eyes fell on Aemond who was standing near the fireplace, he looked at you with a blank but sharp gaze.

“What are you doing here? I don't want to meet you” you spat at him as he walk closer to your bed. You were shocked when you felt his big hands grip your cheeks roughly, you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“because of you, I lost my child. because of your stupid and childish attitude, I lost my heir”

You looked at him in disbelief and anger, tears rolling down your cheeks now. You let go of his hand with all the strength you have, you're angry, you're furious. Not only does he blame you but he also doesn't realize that the reason they lost their child was because of him.

“my fault? you blame me?! Don't you think Aemond!? why am I like that? you cheated and got that whore pregnant! you have a child with someone else! and you can still blame this on me?! Are you crazy!?”

you screamed in his face, your breathing was very irregular because you were angry. your eyes are red from crying, you can't understand how he could blame you?

“What?! now you can't talk huh? what I said is a fact! You got her pregnant and hoped I would forgive you because I love you?!? I'm not that stupid! I'm not like Haelena when she found out Aegon had many children from his whore, I'M NOT LIKE HER!”

Aemond just remained silent and continued to stare at you, he had no intention of replying to you and you hated that. you turned your head around when you heard your mother's voice “what is this? y/n darling? why are you screaming? you must rest"

You looked at him and smiled a little, before finally taking the knife that was on the left side of Aemond's body. Aemond was shocked and you pushed his body, he fell unguarded.

"I'm sorry if I was never the best daughter for you mother, I will always love you" before your mother and Aemond could take the knife in your hand, you had already slashed your neck.

Aemond captured your body, you could hear your mother's voice calling all the guards to immediately bring in the Maester. Aemond looked at you in shock and fear, you smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "I hope you are happy Aem, sorry I couldn't be a good wife for you" then your eyes close and slowly your hand fell from his cheek.

“no, no, no! don't you dare close your eyes! y/n! Forgive me! y/n! please come back!” Aemond shouted while hugging your body which was starting to get cold, he cried and whispered sorry repeatedly in your ear. when the Maester came, he told you that you were gone. and that night was the night Aemond lost the only person who truly loved him, you.

tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)

#hotd #hotd imagine #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd one shot #aegon ii targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x you #prince aegon targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #alicent hightower #haelena targaryen

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daemontargaryenwhore · 12 days

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So anyway there was this horse

when he was told Rhaenyra was at a brothel and he went "what of it??" 💀

And when he had the maester bring her the moon tea 😭😭😭 like here’s your plan B sweetie hope you had fun

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allkordelia · 2 years

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Fuck you, Daemon

The young woman was under the big oak tree twisting her white coils around her finger as she read, she laid against the tree with the book that tells the stories of the age of heroes. She tries to keep her feet off her dark red and gold pattern blanket scarf as she lay on it, she turned the page with her index finger well still holding the book in the same hand.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." The girl didn't look up at the man who sneaked up on her, she didn't respond or pay him no mind making him frown slighly.

The young prince moved to sit beside the girl's feet before laying on his side with his left arm supporting him, the man looked over at the girl who hasn't said a word yet making a mischief grin to grow on his face. He used his two finger to walk over the blanket and onto the ankles before slowly moving up the young girl's dingley green gown, she snapped her eyes over to the man who was smiling slight as he moved his fingers up and down her leg. Growing annoyed the girl crossed her legs causing the man's fingers to fall off her making her sigh before concentrated on her book again, the prince looked over at her with a soft glare before moving his hand under her gown causing her to snap her eyes over the book. She tried to shake his hand off only for him

"Stop it." She hissed lowly, the man didn't listen as he continue to caress her leg. This made the young woman grow angry as he did what he wanted like he always do, she finally had enough when she felt his hand squeeze her upper thigh making her slam the book on his hand hard. He sat up as snatched his hand from under her gown before shaking it in pain, the young woman made a hum of content when he look at his stinging hand.

"You should listen more often, cousin." She said under breathe before settling back to reading.

"Oh, she finally speaks I was getting worried for a second. I thought your father cut out your tongue." He said clenching and unclenching his hand, the young woman rolled her eyes wishing that her father did cut out her tongue than there's a better chance she bleed out and die.

"Are you still made at me, my dear?" The woman didn't answer making the young man move to sit on his knees.

"If you don't talk to me, I'm just going to keep on annoying you." He said with his hands resting on his thighs as he looked at her, she didn't say a word as her eyes focus on the words on the page.

"Fine. Have it your way." The girl didn't heed his warning that's why when the book was snatched out of her hand and tossed to the side, her tolerance for the man was growing paper-thin to the point she felt like she was about to see red her heated gaze stare him down only made him smile.

"There's my girl." She growled deep in her throat before getting up and walking over to the book.

"What do you want, daemon." She wiped the book down with her sleeve as her back is turned to him, like a fly to a web the rogue prince didn't skip a beat pulling her back against his chest.

"You know what I want." He whispered in her ear before planting a kiss on her neck, she quickly moved out of his hold turning towards him with the book against her chest.

"Well, seek it somewhere else." She moved around him to gather her blanket, she put the book in a space between two branches before getting her blanket and shaking it off.

"I do not wish to get it somewhere else..." She wrapped it around her neck before bending forward again to get the small book, she tensed up feeling his crotched against her ass making her sit up and turn to him with a glare.

"...I want you." He said raking his eyes over body with lust.

"You cannot have me." She shut him down, he tilted his head to the side with raised brow.

"Since when?" He asked, she looked cold at him.

"Since you decided not to object to my pending marriage, you were suppose to convince my father to let me become your squire." Daemon rolled his eyes weary at the same thing she kept on begging him to ask her father, she was a good fighter and even braver woman but daemon couldn't help to get attracted by her and her body.

"And I will like I promised, just not now...because right now i want to taste you. " He smirked devilishly stepping closer to her only for her to step back.

"That's not happening." She said stern.

"What? You don't want me to do that thing with my tongue, again." A twisted feeling in her stomach of the memory of what he did countless times made goosebumps spread all over her body.

"No, we can not do that not anymore. I am to be a married woman soon." Daemon blinked at her as the words spiral around in his head.

"Come again?" She didn't say anything making Daemon clench his jaw, "When was this decided." He asked.

"This morning well you were at fleabottom, viserys picked the house I would be marrying into." Daemon shook his head slightly.

"Who is it?" The young woman didn't want to say she knew that the moment his name leaves her mouth, Daemon would go on this long rant and she didn't wish to waste precious time that she has being free with him.

"Answer me." He snapped.

"Hightower." Daemon looked at her before letting out a laugh.

"Hightower? Corlys would rather die than marry you off to one of Otto's sons, do my brother not know the history between your families." Daemon talked as if it was some sort of joke that his lover was playing on him to get back at him for not talking to her father.

"He knows, Daemon. Thats's why his doing it to form a truce between our families." He rolled his eyes at that rubbish.

"So, which one are you marrying, ser gwayne or one of the others." He asked.

"My beloved father was nice enough to give me a choice, between the eldest or Otto." Daemon laughed again.

"Oh, how I wish I was there you know he always had a thing for you, I bet he was vexed." The young velaryon girl looked taken back by what he said before glaring at him.

"I chose Otto." The prince laughter turned to chuckles.

"Do not jest." He saw the look on her face making the smile dissolve into a grim look.

"Why would you do such a thing." He snapped feeling a bit betrayed.

"If I had married his eldest I couldn't bring my dragon to the Reach, so i decided to stay here." Daemon was pissed but not entirely since he understood he don't think he could step foot in the Vale if he couldn't bring caraxes with him to stay.

"I don't know who's the bigger fool my brother, your father, or you. All of you are playing into his grimly little hands, and you don't see it." The girl rolled her eyes not needing this right now, she turned to get her book from the tree.

"I'm not playing into anything, on the contrary in a way I'm like a spy making sure the old geezy isn't planning anything that could hurt our families." A small proud smile made its way on daemon's face as he leaned his hand against the tree blocking her, he stared down at her with a look.

"Smart girl. Does this mean your still coming to see me in my chambers later." She sighed shaking her head.

"No, Daemon. I meant what I said I'm done I'm not going to continue this affair with you any longer,"

"Why the fuck not." He asked annoyed.

"Because I don't want to be your silver slut anymore thats why. " He let out a deep sigh hanging his head.

"When will you let that go, I said sorry what else do you want from me." He glared at her.

"Nothing. Not anymore." She moved to walk away but he grabbed her arm pulling her back to him and kissing her, both of his hands held her against the tree as he deepen the kiss. She moved her face away only for him to capture her lips again, she tried so hard but the way he touched her made her mind go numb.

The books fall from her hands as she grabbed his shoulders, he moved towards her neck leaving purple love bites on either side. She moaned lowly feeling daemonn pull up her gown exposing her legs and thighs, he spread them apart with a mischief look as he glance around to make sure no one was looking. He grunted sliding his cock into her the woman hooked her leg around his waist as he fucked her up against the tree, she kissed his cheek as he moan sweetly in her neck she gasped throwing her head back as her hands went to his long hair as his thrust started to become rough and quicken. She whimpered leaning her head forward on his shoulder as he shudder from coming inside her, he press one last kiss against her neck before pulling away.

"Consider this an early wedding gift." He said buttoning his pants up, she leaned off the tree before bending down grabbing her books and fixing the scarf around her neck to hide the love bites.

"Fuck you, Daemon." She says flat as she walk away.

"You already did, cousin." He chuckled lowly watching her stumbled a bit away.

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astarionposting · 1 month

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alicent preview!!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gif #bg3 gifs #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #bg3 mods #my bg3 sculpts #alicent hightower

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murmel-malt · 2 months

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some old doodles of my asoiaf-era hightower!oc Arwyn

#my art #oc: arwyn hightower #aka the forgotten hightower child #a song of ice and fire oc #asoiaf oc #house hightower oc #fyeahgotocs #fyeahgameofthronesocs #i wish i could come up with an actual plot in the story for her #for now this and a pinterest board are everything that exists of her

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sugarprincessbitch · 1 year

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Targaryen men x Targ! Wife Reader

(Reader suffers the same death as Laena)

Warning ⚠️ (Angst).

Maegor Targaryen x reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader, and Aemond Targaryen x reader

Aegon II

The king's council was pressuring you and Aegon to give the throne a heir, despite being pregnant three times none of each were a boy, instead you had three beautiful daughters.

Now you were in your fourth pregnancy. Wanting to be near your mother, princess Rhaenyra, in your labor, your little family decided to move to Dragon stone.

The labor started early than expected, but that wasn't saw as a problem because the pregnancy developed normally.

Your mother and the maester were inside the room with you, meanwhile Aegon was walking impatiently outside your birthing chambers with the fear of something going wrong. Daemon and the boys tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you were at the hands of the best maester and midwife's they could found and you where going to be fine.

Hours passed and you were still fighting in that room to bring your child to the world, wrenching screams could be heard in all Dragon stone, but none of a child, only yours.

Suddenly the door open, and the pale face of the master came into view, he told Aegon that the baby was stuck inside of you and the only way of get it out was to cut you open.

Angered by the maester words he was ready to strangle him right there, but your anguished callings stop him before doing something.

You were bedridden, pale as a ghost and sweating a lot, the baby was slowly killing you each passing hour.

Rhaenyra was at one side of the bed, trying to calm you down by whispering sweet things in your ear, but by the look of her face she was also deeply worried by your state.

when he was finally at your side you told him to help you get up, and ignoring the pain you stubbornly start to walk outside the room despite the pleadings of the others.

Aegon start to follow you, calling and pleading that you will be fine and there will be another way. You still didn't want to listen to him and continue walking.

He found himself outside, inside the dragon pits he found you. You were in front of your dragon saying something that he couldn't comprehend, his panic calls were covered by a roar and you were engulf by flames.

Aegon started to scream horrified by the view as his legs gave out and he stumbles against the hard floor. He felt his heart tear apart. A river of tears run along his face at the sight of your body, your burnt body.

After that horrible night Aegon was not the same, he was a shell of the man he was with you. For his family pity, he returned to his old habits, ignoring all his responsabilities in court and as a father, neglecting your daughters.

His mother and grandfather force him into a new marriage, saying that he still needed a heir.

Poor the unlucky woman that married Aegon, because the shadow of your memory will be always there to haunt her.

Maegor I

You were the only wife that had given him children and pure blooded too, due to being his half sister. Because of that you were the most dear and important wife of Maegor, treating you with a fondness that was rare of him.

The maester had warn him to not try for more children, your health was fragile since having many children without repose, another pregnancy could cost you not only your life but also the one of the baby.

Maegor didn't listen to it and stated that his wife should do their duty to him as a woman without caring if she wanted or not. That was the end of the discussion.

The new pregnancy developed progressively worse as months passed, debilitating the mother day after day.

Visenya was the only one that had permission to attend the pregnancies of the queen, due to the fact that Maegor wasn't fond of maesters, believing them to be useless for caring correctly of her sister-wife.

In the middle of the night you went in labor, Visenya and the midwife's were the only ones present with you. Maegor was on one of his campaigns battling the faith, so he couldn't be present.

It passed a long time and the baby didn't wanna come out, there was blood everywhere and the women in the room shared with each other worried faces.

Due to the pain pleadings of the queen, Visenya decided to call a maester. The maester tried without effectiveness, stating that the only way the baby would come out is by cutting you open.

Knowing the end was near, you pleaded to Visenya that if you were going to die you wanted to do it at the hands of your dragon, not of the maester "From fire I was born, from fire I will die" you said.

When Maegor landed in kings landing the news of the torturous labor and death of his wife reach his ears.

He immediately saw red, mad with fury he grab his sword and went to search for the one or ones guilty of your death.

That day it was told that the fury of the dragon rain upon the people of kings landing, no one was saved from Maegor's want for blood.

He burned, tortured and killed everyone that was in charge of your well being. When no one was left to appease his Mad pain, innocents were also slay. But no killing or torture could fill the hole in his wrenching chest, the one you and your unborn child left behind.

Aegon I

They say that Aegon married his three sisters for different reasons. He married Visenya for duty, Rhaenys for love and you for devotion.

You were his twin, the half of his soul, the mother of his only daughter. His sweet Daenerys.

Your second pregnancy came as a glad surprise for the two of you and the kingdom, after the tragic death of your little sister at the hands of Dorne, in the castle there was only days for mourning or sadness. So the unexpected new was a ray of hope for everyone, specially Aegon who desperately needed a little hope to grab on to.

All different types of maesters were pestering you day and night all along the duration of the nine months, this was a direct order of their king and their queen, your older sister Visenya. The two of them worried about the fragile state you were in.

Because of you being a little pass your prime, the announce of you being pregnant was a miracle on itself, and the dangers of having a baby at your age was of their over protectivness.

You were now two days in labor, since your contractions starting in the early morning of the first day and continuing in the night of the second day, you haven't stop pushing.

Everyone was in distress and the tension was burdensome in the air, Aegon vigilant gaze and your sister angry commands were not helping at all.

That second night Visenya nor Aegon could be with you, an important meeting regarding the next attack to Dorne was held, and you found yourself all alone in a room full of strangers.

The pain was now unberable, each passing day with your baby stuck in you was agonizing, you knew death was in the horizon although Aegon didn't want to acknowledge it, extending your suffering.

In one of your moments of consciousness you got up of bed. Shoving the maester and servants aside, you got out of the room.

A terrified servant abruptly interrumpt the meeting and told them about your current disappearence. For a second Aegon was shock in place by the horrifying news, that hesitation was enough time for Visenya to start screaming commands to the guards to inmediatly find you.

They found you in the dragon pit, screaming to your dragon, pleading him for mercy. Aegon was the last one to get to there. Seeing you in just a dangerous situation send him on edge and without thinking it he tried to run to you, but the fire was quicker and reached you first.

A part of Aegon died that day in the fire with you, his hope was lost, everything was lost without you by his side. He attached himself to the only part of you that was left, your daughter.

Your loss was the final drop for the strain relationship between Visenya and Aegon to broke beyond repair. Dividing the family, creating resentment not only between the parents but also, between the children.

When Aegon's last days were near, he went in and out of feverish deviations, the only thing that calmed him was the milk of the poppy that the maesters gave him.

In his death bed his last words were pronounce again and again with a trembling and a voice full of anguish "My sweet y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Until he finally took his last breath the prayers didn't stop.

Aemond I

Your family, specially your mother, wasn't fond of your sudden marriage with Aemond, she had other plans for her younger's. Being Haelena and Aegon the ones married as the Targaryen tradition dictates, she didn't needed more than one. But love seal by fire couldn't be stop.

For the first time Aemond felt joy, the gods heard his and his wife prayers and gift them with a child, the one that were dessesperately hoping for.

The pregnancy went normally without much of a fuss, the two of you were expecting with excitement the day your baby will come into the world. Aemond didn't care if it were to be a girl or a boy, as the second son, he didn't have the burden to produce a male heir.

During the later stages of your pregnancy the tensions between the blacks and the greens grew increasingly dangerous. When the high septon crowned your brother as king everything explode. Due to this, Aemond had to fly away to Storm's end as a negotiator for the greens, leaving his much pregnant wife at home.

An urgent letter from her mother came in the second day he was staying there, telling him to come home as soon as possible, his wife started labor hours ago.

Only one thing retain him for some time before going back to his dear sister, the bastard that took his eye, Lucerys.

When he arrived at the pit in Kings landing the storm had long passed. Without changing his wet clothes he inmediatly went to the birthing chambers, in the rush he didn't notice the commotion of the servants and guards of the castle.

Entering he found the room empty, except from his mother who was in the floor, with her hands covering her face, crying unconsolable. Ameond silently reach her, and with a pang of fear in his chest ask "Mother, were is y/n... Were is she?".

Alicent gasp and cried more, he grew desperate and ask in a more forceful tone this time "Mother, stop crying and answer me, were is y/n?" Finally she answered him "I'm sorry Aemond, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop her... Oh god how horrible!" For a moment everything went silent, the pang in his chest grew and stab him with more force this time.

His mother rose her head and look at him with tears in her puff eyes "Th-the pregnancy went wrong, the baby, the baby wouldn't come out"

She stop and shed more tears "She killed herself Aemond, she command her dragon to kill her..." Stoping for a moment she screamed "OH GOD HOW HORRIBLE!"

Upon hearing this Aemond block himself out of the room, unfocusing his gaze he hug his mother that continue to cry in his shoulders. His face was still as a rock, solid, without a feeling. Only a treacherous tear falling slowly from his good eye, showing the emotion behind the empty gaze.

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kckt88 · 1 month

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The Lost Dragon I - Ensnared.

Summary:

The Greens have repudiated the sucession and ursurped the Iron Throne. After encounting her uncle Aemond at Storms End, he kindaps Vaelys and takes her too Kings Landing - to be used as leverage against her mother.

Whilst the Greens delight in their good fortune, they fail to realise the depths of Aemond's growing feelings for Vaelys and how her presence will ultimately change the outcome of the Dance of Dragons.

Warning(s): Kidnapping, Language, Threats, Angst, Uncle/Niece Incest, Witnessed Consummation, Smut – Fingering, P in V.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 4280

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill her-how could you be so foolish” snapped Alicent.

"You only lost one eye-how could you be so blind?"

“Her dragon attacked Vhagar-“ reasoned Aemond.

“What does it matter? We have Rhaenyra’s eldest bastard in our clutches, she could prove useful,” said Aegon shrugging.

“Once Rhaenyra discovers that we have her daughter, neither she nor Daemon will rest until Vaelys is returned to them-for all we know they could descend from the skies on their dragons at any moment” urged Alicent picking nervously at her nails.

“I doubt it-None of their dragons are a match for Vhagar“ scoffed Aemond.

“Vhagar may indeed be the largest dragon in the world but even she cannot withstand a combined attack from the dragons they have-you would do well to remember that boy” said Otto sternly.

“What do you suggest?” asked Aemond through gritted teeth.

“We have the girl-we should use her to our advantage. Rhaenyra would not dare attack Kings Landing for fear of her daughters safety” explained Otto.

“Where is my niece currently?” asked Aegon.

“She was taken to the Black Cells Your Grace-“ replied Ser Criston.

“I want her brought here at once-” ordered Aegon, the crown of the conqueror slipping down his forehead.

A small group of guards shuffled out of the throne room and returned a little while later with a thoroughly drenched and bleeding Vaelys Targaryen, her wrists bound together in chains.

"Seven above-have mercy on us" muttered Alicent.

“Welcome back to Kings Landing-“ said Aegon smirking.

“I wish I could it’s nice to be back” replied Vaelys wiping her nose on her tattered sleeve.

The sound of the chains clinking echoed around the throne room.

“My deepest sympathies on the loss of your dragon” said Aegon smugly.

“You can shove your sympathy right up your arse” sneered Vaelys.

“I don’t think your language is very ladylike”.

“Like I care what you think-“ quipped Vaelys.

“I would see you bow before your King” demanded Aegon.

"King? I see no King" snarked Vaelys as she lifted her hand to her forehead and began to look around the throne room.

"I said BOW TO YOUR KING" balled Aegon.

“I bow before no King. All I see is a drunken, usurper CUNT” snarled Vaelys spitting on the floor.

“The bastard dares speak to me in such a manner” roared Aegon.

“I will speak however I please, you will not silence me you drunken wastrel-” quipped Vaelys.

“Mayhaps I should teach the bastard some respect-”.

“-I’m more Targaryen than you will ever be” snapped Vaelys.

“The bastard thinks herself more than a King” said Aegon.

“You look down your nose at me yet you’re nothing more than a half breed. Your dragons blood diluted with that of the Hightower, your nothing but a slithering green snake masquerading as a dragon”.

“Says the strong bastard” raged Aegon.

“I’m not some strong bastard who was lucky enough to favour my mother’s colouring, I am the daughter of the rogue prince himself, Daemon Targaryen” confessed Vaelys.

“WHAT?” exclaimed Alicent.

“Oh please-like you didn’t suspect such a thing” snarked Vaelys.

“How?” asked Alicent.

“On my mother’s wedding night to Ser Laenor-she lay with Daemon” replied Vaelys.

“So, you openly admit that your mother betrayed her marriage to Ser Laenor?” asked Otto.

“Can it be considered betrayal if he gave his permission?” retorted Vaelys.

“He-what?”

“Oh, come on-you know that Laenor only sought the attention of his squires, he couldn’t consummate the marriage, especially when he’d just witnessed the brutal and unnecessary murder of his beloved Joffrey at the hands of your own sworn protector-so of course Daemon was only too happy to volunteer his services” said Vaelys glaring at Ser Criston who narrowed his eyes at her.

“-And your mother was only too happy to accept” snapped Alicent.

“Surely your aware of first night rights-“

“-And what excuse can be conjured for existence of your brothers?” asked Alicent.

“-What do you intend to do with the girl Your Grace?” asked Otto, his patience wearing thin.

“We could always offer her to any of the noble lords who bend the knee and pledge their loyalty to me” mused Aegon, ignoring the look of horror plastered across the faces of his mother and grandsire.

Aemond took a deep breath and folded his arms behind his back, his gaze never leaving his brother.

“We could even leave her chained up in the throne room and they could take turns with her. How many cocks do you think she could she take before she breaks?” said Aegon.

“Your Grace-she is still a Princess of the realm” warned Otto.

“Wed her to me” offered Aemond.

“-And why would I allow such a thing to take place?” asked Aegon.

“I brought her here. She belongs to me-” replied Aemond.

“-And that’s enough of a reason?”

“If not, then mayhaps the prevention of her marriage to Cregan Stark is” said Aemond firmly.

“Stark?” asked Otto.

“Borros Baratheon inquired about her hand in marriage-he seemed interested in taking her to wife, boldly declaring that she would give him many sons, but she refused. It seems her bastard brother has flown to Winterfell and delivered terms in exchange for his support” said Aemond.

“We cannot allow such a match-if Stark honours his father’s oath and bends the knee the rest of the North will follow, we must intervene if we are too secure-“ urged Otto.

“-There isn’t a Stark alive that’s ever broken an oath-you’ve already lost the North and my grandmother was an Arryn, the Eyrie won’t turn against their kin-” said Vaelys smirking.

“-But we still have you” declared Aegon boldly.

“Your Grace-“ questioned Otto.

“-As you were saying brother-you believe that she belongs to you?” mused Aegon.

“There is a debt to be paid and I will take her as payment for the eye her bastard brother carved from my skull”.

“Her maiden head in exchange for your eye? Assuming of course that she is still a maid, after all she is the daughter of a whore” quipped Aegon smirking.

"The only whore I see is YOU" yelled Vaelys.

"Hold your tongue-or I will have it removed" snarled Aegon.

Vaelys was about to answer back, but then she caught Aemond's eye, and he discreetly shook his head.

Deciding it was better to keep quiet, Vaelys lowered her gaze to the floor.

“I will have her as my wife and I will take what is mine” said Aemond, his voice firm and unwavering.

“And when her maidens blood stains your cock. What then?” asked Aegon.

“She will still have her uses” replied Aemond firmly.

“Very well brother. You may take her to wife” said Aegon smirking at the look on Vaelys’ face.

“Your Grace, Aemond has already agreed to marry one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters, he pledged his support to you based on that promise” urged Alicent.

“Offer Daeron’s hand instead. I don’t really think it matters which Prince marries his daughter” replied Aegon shrugging.

“But Your Grace-“ said Alicent.

“-My brother’s debt will be paid” said Aegon firmly.

Just as Alicent was about to respond, her father shook his head and she sighed despondently, Aegon had clearly made his mind up and now her favoured son would be stuck with a bastard for a bride instead of someone more worthy of his station.

“If some of the lords who have declared for Rhaenyra see that her daughter is wed to Aemond, we may be able to sway them to our side” said Otto thoughtfully.

“Exactly-now take your bastard Aemond and see that she is made presentable-you will wed on the morrow, mother will make the arrangements” ordered Aegon.

“Your Grace” muttered Alicent through gritted teeth.

“YOU-“ snapped Vaelys taking a step forward only to be stopped by Aemond.

“Ser Arryk-Escort my betrothed to her temporary chambers, ensure that she is bathed, and that cut is taken care of” said Aemond sternly.

“Yes, my Prince” replied Ser Arryk.

“You may also want to have the chains removed as well?” suggested Otto.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond.

“Cunt” snapped Vaelys.

“Careful niece-come tomorrow, my brother will have other uses for that mouth of yours” said Aegon smirking.

“Then he will find himself without his cock” replied Vaelys as Ser Arryk lead her out of the throne room.

After she had been thoroughly bathed, Vaelys was sat on a chair under the watchful eye of Ser Arryk waiting for Maester Orwyle to arrive.

“Do you not wish to enquire about the wellbeing of your brother?” asked Vaelys as she watched the maids busying themselves with tidying up.

“I’m sure my brother is fine” muttered Arryk solemnly, his eyes fixed upon the door.

“You know it amazes me how different twins can be. I mean there’s Erryk who is loyal, and then there’s you-“ said Vaelys.

“-My brother is a traitor” said Arryk.

“Your brother swore towards the rightful Queen-he is a man of honour, unlike some I could mention” said Vaelys, a soft knock at the door diverting her attention away from her guard.

“Prince Aemond” said Arryk bowing slightly.

“You can wait outside-“

Ser Arryk nodded his head slightly and then shuffled out of the room, only to come to a standstill just beyond the threshold of the door.

“He is to be your personal guard-he will remain stationed outside, so before you get any ideas, remember he’s there” said Aemond as he waved his hand, and a nervous looking maid placed a stool in front of Vaelys.

“What are you doing?”

“The cut needs stitching, I’ve stitched plenty of my own wounds before, or would you rather have the Maester do it, after all he did such a wonderful job on my eye” said Aemond.

“I thought it was Maester Selkin who stitched your eye?“ asked Vaelys.

“On Driftmark-but I’ve had other procedures since then” replied Aemond.

“Other procedures?”

“Removal of my eyelids” said Aemond as he threaded the needle and raised his hand to Vaelys who flinched away nervously.

“I-I-“ stuttered Vaelys.

“If I was going to hurt you, then I would have done it before I brought you to Kings Landing”.

“But you did hurt me-you killed my dragon” whispered Vaelys softly as she leaned forward an allowed Aemond to begin stitching the cut above her eye.

“I’m sorry about Archonei-” whispered Aemond.

“-Don’t say her name” snapped Vaelys.

“It was not my intent to kill her”.

“You chased after us on that old bitch dragon of yours, what did you think was going to happen?” quipped Vaelys, grimacing as Aemond pulled the thread through her skin.

“Vhagar was defending me after your dragon attacked her”.

“Archonei was frightened, she was much smaller than Vhagar, how would you feel having that thing chasing after you” said Vaelys.

“If you didn’t insult me in the first place then I wouldn’t have chased after you”.

“I heard you-shouting your commands, but she wouldn’t listen. Does your King know that you can’t control your dragon?” asked Vaelys flinching again as the needle pierced her skin.

“It was a momentary lapse in-“

“-Your mouldy rock is obviously getting senile in her old age” retorted Vaelys.

Aemond paused for a moment, debating with himself on whether or not he would engage Vaelys in the argument she was intent on starting, but after a few moments he decided against it.

“We are to marry on the morrow-I suggest you rest well” muttered Aemond as he tied the thread and snipped it.

“If you think that I’d willingly marry you dragon slayer, then your even stupider than you look”.

“The alternative is much worse-“ muttered Aemond raising from the stool.

Vaelys looked at Aemond and took a deep breath, she knew Aegon’s threat of offering her to any Lords who bent the knee was not an empty one and despite her anger towards Aemond for what he had done, he was clearly the lesser of two evils.

She would rather be his wife, than suffer the alternative. Her fathers words echoed in her mind ‘Seize your opportunity and do what you must in order to survive’.

“Fine. I will marry you” snapped Vaelys.

“Get some rest Princess. Tomorrow you will be my wife” replied Aemond as he turned on his heel and left the room.

Aemond was stood beside the high septon. He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Vaelys took Aegon’s arm.

“You look beautiful. Green suits you” said Aegon smugly.

“Eat shit-” muttered Vaelys.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Your Grace. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Vaelys undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Aegon who nodded respectfully to the Septon and took his seat next to Alicent and Helaena.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Vaelys’ shoulders.

Aemond then took Vaelys’ hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Vaelys, her lip wobbling slightly.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaelys’ lips.

“ñuhon” whispered Aemond as he pulled away (Mine).

The celebration after their wedding was in full swing, how Alicent had managed to pull this off in the limited time she had, Vaelys didn’t want to know.

King Aegon was sat at the head of the table, with a smiling Alicent and Otto by his side.

Vaelys sat next to Aemond near the head of the table, plastering on a smile as Lords and ladies loyal to Aegon came up to wish them well. Tyland Lannister, and one that seemed to linger, Jasper Wylde.

"Many good wishes too you Prince Aemond and Princess Vaelys. A match many shall pray for a fruitful outcome. I must admit Princess, the tales of your great beauty have not been exaggerated".

Vaelys shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Aemond scowled.

"Thank you," nodded Vaelys politely.

All through the feast and dancing, Vaelys couldn’t help but think about her mother.

Did her mother know that she was in Kings Landing? Or had the broken pieces of Archonei been discovered and it was assumed that she had died alongside her dragon?

Her mother was still recovering from the pain and loss of her last pregnancy when she had agreed to let Vaelys fly to Storms End, how cruel would it be to let a mother already grieving for the loss of one daughter, believe her other was also dead.

“Valzȳrys” muttered Vaelys (Husband).

“Is everything ok?” asked Aemond.

“Issa muñā, does she know that I’m here?” (My mother).

“I don’t know-I’ll asked my grandsire” replied Aemond as he rose from his seat and made his way towards his grandsire who was in conversation with Larys Strong.

“Does Rhaenyra know that her daughter is here?” asked Aemond.

“The Princess has not yet been informed of-“ said Otto.

“-She’ll know when she receives the sheets stained with her daughter’s maiden’s blood” interrupted Aegon.

“Perhaps a letter would be sufficient-” mused Aemond.

“No-our whore sister will be sent proof that her daughter has been wedded and bedded. Speaking of which I must inform you brother that the consummation will need to be witnessed, given our older sisters past behaviours”.

“Your Grace-“ exclaimed Aemond.

“We cannot have Rhaenyra contesting the marriage-“ urged Larys.

“Lord Strong is right-“ said Otto.

As much as he could try an argue against it, Aemond knew couldn’t. Rhaenyra would indeed challenge the validity of her daughters marriage, and the witnesses were a preventative measure.

“I request the minimum number of witnesses and sheer curtains-“

“Arrangements will be made,” said Otto.

“Your no fun” muttered Aegon tipping a large gulp of wine.

“I do not wish for my wife to be displayed in such a manner” snapped Aemond.

“Careful brother-anyone would think that you care for the bastard” snarked Aegon.

“She is my wife-“ said Aemond.

“-And that little crush of yours has nothing to do with it?”

“I don’t know what your talking about” snarled Aemond.

“I saw that cuntstruck look on your face when our sister brought her brood of bastards to the Red Keep defending Jace’s claim to Driftmark-Couldn’t keep your eye off our niece, although I must say I don’t blame you. She has grown rather beautiful. Perhaps I’ll take a leaf out of our uncles book and insist on first night rights” said Aegon.

“You have no right” replied Aemond, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I am the King-I have every right, but what sort of brother would I be if I deprived you of the chance to deflower a maid-it’s not as if the last woman you bedded was one” laughed Aegon.

“Don’t ever mention that again” ordered Aemond as he turned on his heel and returned to Vaelys who was now huddled with Helaena.

“I couldn’t talk him out of it-” said Aemond.

“At least you tried” muttered Vaelys, her shoulders slumping.

“Come good sister-I shall escort you to your new chambers” whispered Helaena.

“I’ll distract Aegon and the others” muttered Aemond.

“I know it might not make sense, but it was necessary for Aemond to bring you here”.

“I’m sure it was-“ muttered Vaelys as she watched Aemond bump into his brother, causing the cup of wine he was holding to spill all over the floor.

“You will see in time, and don’t worry you will fly again,” said Helaena.

“I will?” asked Vaelys as she followed Helaena out of the throne room.

“A dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free,” said Helaena.

“What?” exclaimed Vaelys.

“A dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free,” repeated Helaena as she came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

“These are not my chambers” mused Vaelys.

“No-there Aemonds. You are to share, it’s important” muttered Helaena as she pushed open the door, took Vaelys by the hand and pulled her inside.

“I’m scared” whimpered Vaelys.

“Aemond will take care of you-he’s not the monster you think he is,” said Helaena.

“He brought me here”.

“I was necessary-a dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free. The dragons begin to dance, blood will be shed, begins when two are wed,” said Helaena.

“You keep saying that but-“ uttered Vaelys as the door swung open and Aemond walked in, closely followed by Aegon, Otto, Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister and Maester Orwyle.

“It’s time-“ declared Aegon brightly.

“Will you stay?” asked Vaelys.

“Yes” replied Helaena softly as she stood next to Aegon who huffed impatiently at Aemond who was stood silently observing Vaelys.

“Would you help me with the gown, husband?” asked Vaelys as she turned from him and swept her hair away from her back to reveal a great number of fiddly buttons and laces.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he reached forward and began undoing his wife’s wedding gown.

Soon she was stood in nothing but a thin shift and Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest at the sight of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

He was no maid, Aegon had seen to that when he’d dragged him to the street of silk on his thirteenth name day. But Vaelys was no paid whore, that would whisper sweet lies into his ear and make him feel dirty.

She was his wife, and he would treat her as such.

Aemond began pulling off his own clothes as Vaelys climbed into the bed. Her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced nervously at the witnesses who were silent.

“Focus on me. Not them” said Aemond as he finished undressing himself and climbed into the bed.

Vaelys nodded nervously as Otto moved forward and closed the sheer curtains, they didn’t provide much privacy, but it was better than nothing.

“I-I’m ready husband” whispered Vaelys as she pulled off her shift and discarded it on the floor.

Vaelys laid down and smiled shyly as Aemond gazed at her naked body.

“Gevie” whispered Aemond as he slowly reached out and ran his fingers over Vaelys’ breasts (Beautiful).

Goosebumps erupted over Vaelys’ skin as Aemonds hand began to move lower.

“I-I need to prepare you” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Vaelys.

“I don’t want to hurt you” replied Aemond.

Vaelys gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“Aemond” exclaimed Vaelys as her husband slipped a finger inside her.

Aemond buried his face in his wife’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger to prepare her as best, he could.

But in the back of his mind, he was still aware of the witnesses standing at the foot of the bed.

“Come on. Get on with it” groused Aegon.

Aemond removed his fingers and then laid between his wife’s open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against his wife’s slick entrance.

Vaelys shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

“Listen to her whimpering, who would have thought a whore’s daughter would be so cock shy” laughed Aegon.

“Don’t listen to them-I won’t let them see you” muttered Aemond softly.

Vaelys couldn’t stifle the whimper of pain as she felt Aemond’s cock press further into her.

“That’s it Aemond fuck her harder” exclaimed Aegon gleefully.

“Your doing so well-” muttered Aemond trying to control himself.

Vaelys’ cunny choked his cock so tight that he needed a few seconds to adjust, making him terribly aware that he was not going to last for too long.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Vaelys sighed in relief.

“The pain will ease,” rasped Aemond, waiting for his wife to adjust.

After a few moments, Vaelys nodded slowly her hands grasping the white sheets tightly as Aemond pulled back and thrust forward again.

Aemond rested his head in the crook of Vaelys’ neck as he thrusts faster, his quiet moans muffled against her skin.

“Your perfect-“ whispered Aemond.

Feeling a spark of pleasure Vaelys let go of the sheets and slowly placed her hands on Aemond’s back, holding him close as his movements become more erratic.

Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time and groaned loudly as his cock throbbed and he spilled his seed.

“A-Are you ok?” Aemond as he gently pulled his softened cock from his wife.

Vaelys nodded, her fingers digging into the fabric of the bed.

Aemond pulled the bedcovers over Vaelys and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his eye drawn to the red ring of Vaera’s maidens blood that now stained his cock.

“Are you well Princess. Do you need me to examine you?” asked Maester Orwyle.

“No, I’m-“ muttered Vaelys.

“-The marriage has been consummated. Get out” snapped Aemond.

“The sheets brother” said Aegon.

Aemond slowly ran a hand over his face before he jumped off the bed, his eye moving to Vaelys who clutched the bedcovers too her chest and slowly lifted her body from the bed allowing him to pull the sheet from under her.

“There-“ snarled Aemond as he threw the sheet towards Aegon.

“I see she was a maid after all” quipped Aegon as he examined the blood stained sheet.

“This will do nicely, I’ll make sure to send it to our sister on the morrow, confirming that her precious heir has been wedded and bedded” Aegon as he quickly rolled up the bloodstained sheet.

“You’ve got what you wanted now get out” retorted Aemond.

There was a brief shuffling off feet, before the door to their chambers opened and closed, leaving the two of them alone.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond as he climbed back into the bed.

“I’m fine” whispered Vaelys.

“We should get some sleep-it’s been a long day” said Aemond as he laid down,

“W-Will you hold me. Please?” asked Vaelys her voice small and barely audible, the tears running down her face.

Aemond slowly nodded and reached towards Vaelys pulling her trembling body against his.

It took far longer than Aemond would have liked for his wife’s trembling to cease, but eventually she fell asleep with her face pressed against his chest.

After discarding his eyepatch on the nightstand, Aemond gazed at Vaelys for seemed like hours.

He could still see the faint tracks of dried tears on her face, and with a shaking hand he reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

“I’m sorry” whispered Aemond as he pulled her closer and closed his eye.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

The Mother

Synopsis: In the aftermath of her death, Aemond struggles to hold back his emotions of overwhelming guilt | Mini-Series Masterlist

Warnings: death, grief, sorry this part is also kinda sad oops

After her death, Aemond was a shell of the man he used to be. Only eating and drinking enough to get him by, nothing was pleasurable anymore as a depression seemed to grip the prince with such an iron fist that seemed to not let go.

Aside from the tears he shed on the night she died, he had not allowed himself to shed any tears since then, which worried Alicent to no end. Every day, his mother would knock on the door and let herself in, knowing that he could not find the strength to get up himself. Sometimes three days in a row she found her son laid in front of the fire, either staring into the flames with a painfully emotionless face, or asleep, all in the same position.

She came in to greet her son, clothe him, perhaps to have him regain some sort of routine, attempt to speak to him and leave. He rarely replied to any of his mother's attempts, but lately he had resorted to giving one- or two-word answers, although these efforts seemed to bleed him dry.

Alicent seemed so small against her son when she dressed him, he was a man grown for certain, but when she did these small tasks for him, she felt like he was a child all over again. A wave of melancholy rushed through Alicent when she saw her son, all grown but succumbed to this never-ending pain. A pain she could not help to resolve.

She had died and it had been nobody's fault. Aemond did not know where to place this hate, this grief. He almost needed something, someone to blame. And as easy as it would have been to blame this child they both helped to bring into the world, he could not find it in his heart to do something so cruel to something so young and innocent.

To something that was just as much hers as his.

Since then, he had never returned to those chambers and instead swapped with Alicent. He could not bear to see the possessions around him, strewn around as of they would be returned to when he knew they would not. The portraits of her, he did not know if they had been taken down or not, but equally he did not wish to see them. Perhaps he feared that when he saw her face immortalised in the painting, he would feel as if he had betrayed her.

Today was any usual day grieving for him. Alicent had already come to dress him but he had not wanted to wear his leather tunic, so walked around in his undershirt and leather bottoms. Some days he barely bothered to put his eyepatch on. This was one of those days.

He had been sitting in his armchair in front of the fire, watching the flames in the dark despite it being daytime, he usually kept the curtains closed. His peace was interrupted with a loud knock at the door, one that did not sound like his mother's this time. He barely looked up, a sigh escaping past his lips as the person behind the door did not wait to be allowed in.

In the corner of his eye he noted the arrival of his brother, Aegon. Aemond did not say anything to welcome him.

"Do you intend to lock yourself in here forever, hm?" Aegon asked suddenly, walking over to the fire to meet his brother there. In a way, Aegon felt saddened to see his brother like this and he didn't like it. But emotional vulnerability was far past Aegon now and his mother's kindness had not resulted in anything, so he thought he would play the bad big brother and see how it would turn out.

Aemond was aware this was just a way to get some different emotion out of him, but his gaze never left the fireplace, his fingers tapped on the armchair in annoyance.

"Alright, if this is how it will be, so be it" Aegon said, taking the seat across Aemond and clasping his hands together, as if he himself was nervous, "You need to remarry"

The words hung in the still air and Aegon could sense his brother was getting angry, as he watched his brother's fingers grip at the arm, his knuckles turning white.

"You are without a wife and only have one son and though for some lowly Lords this is enough, you must remarry and have more, to secure this house"

"I will do no such thing" the words were harsh, not granting his brother his gaze.

Aemond's voice almost sounded foreign to him, he had spoken so little and did not know how long it had been since that fateful day. He had only seen Aegon a handful of times since then, all of which had been wordless, so Aemond wasn't shocked that this was what his brother would say when they eventually would, something so hurtful.

"You are a Prince of the realm, a marriage will secure our future. Anyone you marry, you will only bed, put an heir in and you will not have to speak to them"

"I will not do it"

Aegon shook his head, anger rising up inside him by the second, "Do you know how long you have confined yourself to this pathetic solitude? I bet you do not even know how old your son is"

Aemond had no response to this and could think of no answer himself. It is true he had been so lost in his grief, he indeed did not know how long it had been.

Aegon suddenly stood to stand closer to Aemond, looking down at him, "Brother, as much as I sympathise with you, y/n is dead-"

Almost shocking himself, Aemond stood quickly and pulled his brother by his front, drawing his dagger from his side. Aegon's struggling was futile as Aemond's forearm pinned him against the wall underneath his chin, gripping the dagger and pointing it towards his brother. Aegon struggled against his one arm, strength was unmatched when it came to Aemond and perhaps he had been wrong in antagonising him. He had known the answer to this as he observed his brother's expression, a mix of grief, anger but also regret.

"Do not say her name" Aemond warned, pushing harder against his brother's neck, all notions of him being King were gone. Now they were simply brothers, "You may do whatever with and speak about your women as you see fit, but do not think to talk about my wife" his words hissed as they came out, "What I have with her is mine. Only mine"

"Do you believe that if you had been here that night, anything would have changed?!" Aegon argued back, only making Aemond more and more frustrated, "You may hate yourself, brother, but do not hate what you cannot control"

"I could have helped her" Aemond's comeback came quieter this time, chest heaving, "I could have been there"

"There are no wrongs to right! No sins to forgive! The only sin you are guilty of is not being a father to your child!"

There was a silence now, an epiphany ran through Aemond's head.

"Her child…" Aegon finished.

They stayed like this for a moment, the tension hanging fresh in the air between them.

"You cannot carry on like this, brother" Aegon said simply. Aemond seemed to falter slightly, eyes fluttering with emotion and at the effort trying to keep it back. "I have not been the father my children deserve, but do not resort to abandoning them, like ours did to us"

These words made Aemond break his gaze with his brother and a choked sob seemed to escape his throat as he shut his eye, the grip on his dagger and the force behind his arm faltering. Had he really resorted to treating his only son the way his own father had treated all of them, almost as if there was no father at all?

"She…she would be so disappointed in me…for what I am…" Aemond seemed to sob with no real tears falling down his face, it was more of a pained cry, feeling that stabbing feeling inside his chest once again. A feeling he had buried, now surfaced with a vengeance, "I don't know how to do this without her…"

Aemond had not realised he had melted to the floor on his knees, barely clutching the dagger in his hands. Despite not being the closest brothers, seeing his brother in such a state shot a pain through his heart. In his older years his brother had always been so strong, a skilled swordsman, a veracious reader, tall and domineering. So, to see him like this felt like taking several steps back and he wanted nothing more than to cure the hurt that had taken its place in his soul.

Aegon followed him and got to his knees, hands coming to his brother's face to force their gazes to meet, Aemond's eye was glassy, wanting to let all that pent up emotion out, but felt like in the company of his brother he could not.

"Look at me"

Aemond followed his order slowly.

"Go and see your child, be his father and pull yourself out of this misery, brother" he said quietly, for the first time instilling some sort of brotherly wisdom upon him. When Aemond barely responded, Aegon lifted his head up again, "If you will not do it for me, or mother, do it for her"

These words seemed to silence Aemond's choked sobs and he looked at his brother once more, really processing what he had said. Eventually Aemond nodded, he could not let her death by bringing their child into this world be in vain. Aegon seemed to find this response satisfactory and moved his hands to his shoulders to squeeze them lovingly.

"Get dressed" Aegon patted his shoulder and stood to leave, leaving his brother to stare at the ground for a while. Aegon held the door and looked back before leaving the room, emitting a small sigh of relief and hope, hope that his brother would finally break out of this depression. Hope that his mother would no longer have to bear the burden of essentially raising his brother's son alone and bring her out of her own melancholy.

Aemond eventually dug for the power to bring himself to his feet, letting his dagger slip through his fingers to rattle against the stone floor. He grabbed the curtains that kept him in this darkness and pulled them aside, allowing himself this moment to look upon the outside world he had long left behind. The first thing he noticed was the season, flowers which would usually bloom a good half a year since he could last recall were blooming. Aegon's words echoed in his brain, had he really shut himself away for months at a time?

The sun was still quite low in the sky, telling him that it was early in the morning. It hurt his eye slightly to watch as the sun scanned the landscape, igniting the gardens of the Red Keep a wonderful green colour. His gaze found the gardens, now littered with flowers and trees, and remembered how he had courted her there, many years ago…

He took in a deep breath and slightly begrudgingly started to dress himself, enough so that he would at least be presentable, enough so that people would at least recognise him as he used to be. Carefully, he picked up his eyepatch which had its place at his bedside and had done for several weeks, holding it now felt foreign and felt even more so when he had attempted to attach it, straightening out his leathers as he did so.

Being out in the corridor felt different, felt wrong, despite growing up here. The door felt heavier, his footsteps also and everything around him felt somewhat oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase. It was a sunny day and yet in these corridors it felt like it had on that night, dark and damp with that familiar feeling of despair hanging in the air.

Aemond seemed to take a deep breath in and stood in front of what used to be his chambers, the ones he had shared with her…

He looked down to the handles, a slow hand reaching out to grasp it. But his fingers shook with anticipation, and he pulled back to form his hand into a ball, eyes closing as if pushing past a mental wall. He could feel the hot tears welling up inside him as he remembered this was where he stood all those moons ago, his mother chasing him down the hallway. He could almost hear the raging wind and rain stripping onto stone. These thoughts plagued him until he looked back down at the handle and slowly pushed it open.

A flash of bright light was before him, the windows had their curtains drawn all the way across, spreading the sun's rays on everything inside the room. He seemed to squint slightly before his vision was restored. A wave of nostalgia seemed to literally bring him back, swallowing him whole.

The bed was made with the same bed linen and when his gaze met the pillows, a flash of her appeared and disappeared with equal speed. He had seen her body, laying still in that very spot, the one white sheet had been soaked a dark crimson, so much so that they say they had to replace the mattress also. It had all been burned long ago. He could see, even now, your bloodied hand outstretched to reach for something, seeming to reach for him in this very moment.

But you were not there. The bed was made tightly and well.

The rest of the room was the same, the table, armchairs, one had been hers and one had been his. Now they both remained empty. Before he knew it his body had made its own way to what used to be her armchair, her book was still placed on the table next to it, with a bit of paper sticking out. A chapter she would never return to. He expected his touch on the object to give him some warmth, but it was unfortunate that the object gave him no comfort.

One thing in the room that was different had caught Aemond's attention. There was a small bed, low to the ground that had been placed in front of the window. Aemond's attention stood as a small noise seemed to come from the tiny bed and he felt his heart hammer in his chest. His fingers lingered on the armchair a moment before daring to walk over to the sound. She would make fun of him if she could see him now. In Aemond's moments of doubt, she would often say 'a prince of the realm, rider of the mighty vhagar and the most skilled swordsman in the land, scared of his own child'.

Perhaps she had been right after all.

He felt the air escape his chest when he looked into the padded cot to see a child, his child…their child. He was easily a few months older than he looked and he was asleep, breathing slowly and soundly. His chubby, small hands were at his side, one gripping onto the blanket next to him.

Aemond had not realised that his eye had begun to well with tears until one had slid down his unmaimed cheek past his slight smile at watching his child. He knelt down in front of the cot, arms laid on top and simply watched the small person inside, suddenly finding himself curious about his son. He could not see all of his features, as he had his face buried into the blanket, which made Aemond's heart swell with a fatherly love. In a place he thought barren.

He reached down quietly and brushed the blanket away from the child's face, a small whimper escaped the baby at the disturbance and Aemond huffed a laugh and lovingly dragged his thumb over the soft cheek, seeming to calm instantly.

As Aemond observed his son, his eye landed upon something that made his eyebrows furrow in confusion. His fingers took some of the blanket, it seemed familiar somehow. His suspicions were confirmed when he came across the embroidery, he bought his hand to his mouth to muffle any soft cries that came out. His son had his face buried in his mother's dress. The dress she most often wore and the one she was always fixing, hemming and adding small touches to.

This revelation seemed to sway Aemond slightly and he bought all his might to not sit there and cry at the sight and at the despair that would be, that she would never meet her sweet son.

A hurried figure opened the doors to the chamber and Aemond looked up to see his mother at the door, she looked absolutely haggard and worn out, one heart placed to her chest in shock.

"Aemond…" she breathed, still processing this very different view of her son, especially after the last few months he had, "…I could not find you…" she seemed to hesitate coming into the room for a moment.

The baby inside the cot, with all the commotion seemed to whimper awake, causing Alicent to come to his side immediately, kneeling opposite Aemond to place her hand against his back.

"It's alright…it's alright…" she soothed as the baby slowly woke up.

Alicent's eyes seemed to wander to her son's who was still gripping the dress. Her brown, warm eyes met her son's, "He will not sleep without it" Alicent said suddenly.

Aemond nodded and smiled back at his mother sadly, refusing to let his tears fall once more.

The baby inside rubbed its eyes with small babbles and whimpers and Alicent offered her hand to the child who grapsed it in their chubby fingers.

"He is the image of you, Aemond" Alicent started, as the child looked up at her with eyes full of joy, "He barely fusses at all"

It was more obvious than ever that Aemond had not yet said a word as he stared teary eyed at his child, who was looking up at Alicent. Suddenly, Aemond's hand covered his mother's lovingly, the Queen looked up to meet her son's eyes again.

"I cannot thank you enough, Mother" he said, voice wracked with emotion, making Alicent's own eyes start to glaze over, "I abandoned him when he needed a parent the most. I can never repay you for raising my son…but I will do my best"

Alicent offered a sad smile before bending down to pick up the child and rest him on her hip, "Oh little one, you are getting heavy"

"Ve…vēzos" the child squawked, pointing outside excitedly. Sun. Aemond stood and observed him, swelling with pride.

"He knows Valyrian" Aemond asked, Alicent nodded,

"Only bits and pieces, the maesters teach him. But at the moment he only babbles as babies do. You were not much of a talker" Alicent smiled.

After a moment of silence, Alicent placed the child against the window seat, so that the curious child could look out the window at the flowers and greenery below, "I'll leave you" she simply said as she took her leave.

When she had left, Aemond was left very much feeling as if he didn't know what to do. He realised he still had his wife's dressed clenched in his fist, as if never wanting to let go. And once he took a seat on the end of the bed, he released to fabric to inspect , feeling those races of nostalgia and despair rolled into one once again seeing all the little details she had added to it over the years. He bought the fabric to his lips, to kiss the embroidery and breathed in, and let out a choked sob at smelling her perfume again.

Before he knew it, he was sat, head in hands and weeping with his wife's dress fisted in his hands. He could feel the tears drip off his face and hit the stone floor, the little taps they made as they did so. But at the same time he could not stop. It was not a nice cry, it was a cry where you could not catch your breath and every one you took in, felt like it rattled through your body. Every time he thought come on, get a hold of yourself, your son is in the room he descended further into a sob.

He had to pull up his head, when a small chubby hand seemed to pull at his boots. He stared in confusion as his son, wobbily pulled itself up to its feet to smile right into Aemond's face, one finger pointed against Aemond's unmaimed cheek,

"li…limago…n…" the child eventually said. Cry. Aemond wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and took the child's hand softly. Contrary to what Alicent had said, Aemond could only look at the child and see her.

The child began to whine about not being held, so Aemond tucked both of his large hands under the child’s arms to lift him to the bed beside him, resting him atop his lap firmly. The child began to play with his father’s long hair, now nicely combed, perhaps seeing that the colour was the same. After the tears had stopped, Aemond found himself staring down at his child’s concentrated face with a smile on his own.

Looking up, Aemond clocked the portrait that hung on the wall in front of him on the crest of the fireplace. The wood around it was a dark cherry red and it was the largest portrait he ever commissioned. Immortalised there was him and his wife, years ago. He caught his own figure first, one hand resting on the painted chair, his gaze drawn to the figure sitting in it. And when his own eyed dragged over to her, as if she were really right there, her eyes staring back at him with that sweet smile, he felt a heavy breath go down his throat.

She was sat there in the very dress he was holding, hands clasped at her front, hair curled and styled to fall over her shoulder. What made Aemond shudder the most was the way her eyes seemed to stare at him through the painting, a chill rattling down his spine.

“Iksan vaoreznuni, ñuha jorrāelagon” he said quietly. I am sorry, my love.

He whispered it like a prayer as his hand cradled his son’s back. A wave of guilt came over him.

“ñuha... ñuha...” the child imitated.

Aemond seemed to smile at this and stood, seating his son at his hip. Dress still in the child’s hand, Aemond presented the painting to his son, the small, wide eyes of the child looking up. A look of curiosity on his features.

“Kepa...” the child said, pointing at the figure dressed in black.

Aemond nodded, “Kessa, Kepa”

The child’s finger wandered over to the other figure, the one that made Aemond’s heart stutter. He could feel his son’s hesitation, the way his eyes searched for an answer as to who it was.

Licking his lips and taking a deep breath, Aemond finally managed the words, “Muña”

His son looked at Aemond as if by surprise and with a wide, innocent smile turned back to the painting, his small hand laid flat against it.

“Muña”

#aemond targaryen #Aemond the Kinslayer #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond angst #aemond fluff #aemond stannies #aemond #Aemond x Reader #Aemond x OC #aemond x you #lady alicent #alicent hightower #a mother for a son #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

Text

Baby Blues || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @fireandbloodsource DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: In which a 15 year old Leyla Hightower experiences postpartum depression and all of the Red Keep and Daemon himself, feel the wrath of it. (head-canon to second choice)

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

warning: oc is 15 when she gives birth

The babe’s cries was all the could be heard inside the birthing chamber. The handmaidens all gushed at the baby as they cleaned her up. Leyla laid there motionless. She had never experienced so much pain in all of her years.

Her head slowly turned to the door to which Daemon entered with a smile plastered on his face. He immediately moved to the bed where his Lady wife laid and kissed her forehead, “You did such a good job, ñuha ābrazȳrys” He whispered as Leyla only gave a tight lipped smile (my wife)

She watched as he moved away from her and to their daughter who they already found a name, Alyssa. All the noises around the room had become muffled to the young Hightower and she didn’t even realise that Daemon was talking to her.

“Leyla? I asked if you want to hold her” He cradled the little girl in his arms. She didn’t want to in all honesty. She felt so incredibly exhausted and her body still ached from delivering her child mere minutes ago.

“Okay” She whispered before Daemon laid the babe on her chest to which she groaned. “Why isn’t she properly cleaned” The young girl quipped , her head turned to the handmaidens who quickly apologised and scooped her up to clean her properly.

Watching the whole ordeal, Daemon held Leyla’s hand. “How are you feeling? I imagine the labour was not easy?” He attempted to comfort her but Leyla stared off into the distance, not replying to him.

The prince moved form the bed to a handmaiden, “Did anything happen during the labour?” He questioned as he stared at his Lady Wife. “No your Grace, everything went normal” She replied before curtsying and walking away.

Leyla walked alongside her Husband, a 2 month old Alyssa in her arms. The two walked into Godswood where there was a celebration held for her sister’s pregnancy.

Whispers could be heard around as they stared at the young Hightower. Daemon too felt the tense atmosphere as he rested his hand on the curve of Leyla’s back. Her face was cold and expressionless.

The past 2 months Leyla had been acting incredibly off. Everyone could notice it people around the Keep would constantly gossip and whisper about it. Maybe it was the fact that she was only 15, and yet she already has child to the Rogue Prince himself.

“If you wish to talk about me, at least talk to my face about it” Leyla’s cold words stunned the group of highborn ladies as they look down to the ground; Daemon too glares at the group who were gossiping about his Lady Wife.

She continued walking to her father, King Viserys, and her sister who saw the ordeal. “Sister, how are you” Alicent gives a warm smile to the younger as she hugs her, cautious of the baby in her arms. “The same as always, sister” Leyla deadpanned before turning to greet the King and her father.

Alicent looks to Daemon with a sad expression as he sighs. Leyla beckons for the wet nurse who quickly took the child out of her arms. She couldn’t even find it in herself to look at her daughter as she was taken away.

Both Daemon and Leyla were taken around to different conversations and the whole time, she would stare down at her cup and not utter a word. “Should we go retire to your solar?” The silver haired men says lowly against her head as she nods, Daemon knew she wanted rest, she didn’t even want to be here but she didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings by not showing up.

Leyla let out a loud sigh once she sat down. Daemon sat at the chair opposite and busied himself with a book. The wet nurse placed Alyssa back in her mothers arms. Soon after she immediately started crying as Leyla rocked her to try to stop her loud wails but to no avail, the Targaryen babe continued.

Daemon rubbed his temples as he watched his Lady Wife attempting to calm down their daughter. “Hasn’t she already been fed and changed?” Leyla looked to the wet nurse who looked nervous but nonetheless nodded.

“Then why does she keep crying?!” She muttered annoyed at her baby. “Take her, she’s driving me insane” The young Hightower stood up, ready to give Alyssa back to the wet nurse. “Alyssa is not going to be comforted by the wet nurse but by you Leyla” Daemon sternly spoke, his eyes not leaving the book.

Both the wet nurse and Leyla look at Daemon, Alyssa’s cries intensifying by the minute. “I am already exhausted as it is Daemon-“ “Your her mother, you should be able to soothe your own child, am I wrong?” Daemon finally looks up.

Leyla was baffled, she opened her mouth and closed it soon after. She felt like bawling her eyes out too. “Please, please, please Alyssa stop crying.” Her voice cracked as she patted the babe’s back and walked around her solar desperately trying to calm down her daughter.

The wet nurse and Daemon watch her as tears fall down Leyla’s eyes, Alyssa had still not stopped crying. Daemon stood up and walked over to Leyla and took their daughter from her arms.

He calmed her down in an instant as Leyla sat down, her hand massaging her forehead. The wet nurse took the baby from Daemon so that he could comfort his Lady Wife.

He said nothing as he moved her head against her chest as she sobbed. “I am so exhausted Daemon, Alyssa- she’s-she’s so much work and its draining me” She quietly spoke as Daemon did nothing but listen to her troubles and stroke her back soothingly.

“I am no cut out to be a mother-“ The door to her solar opened loudly and startled the girl. Quickly sitting up and wiping the remainder of her tears, Daemon rolled his eyes and leaned back on the chair, oh how he hated seeing his face around. If he wasn’t his wife’s father, Daemon would have slit his throat ages ago.

Otto first looked at the wet nurse who was rocking his granddaughter in her arms before looking at Leyla. With a stern voice he orders the wet nurse to leave, and then Daemon. “If you think I’m leaving my wife in the presence of her cunt of a father, your wrong” He chuckles as Otto’s lips part in disbelief.

“You think I’d harm my own flesh and blood, my Prince?” He raises an eyebrow at the silver haired man. With a shrug of his shoulders, Daemon looks at Leyla who’s gaze is on her hands as she picks at her nails. He holds her hand to stop her from harming herself before looming up at Otto.

“You’ve harmed her enough by arranging this marriage. Now, you either speak to her whilst I’m here or you don’t speak to her at all” Otto scoffs shaking his head before taking a seat opposite the two. “Daemon. It’s okay” Leyla finally looks up to him.

He lets out a breathe, “I’m not leaving this room,” He says before standing up and making his way to the bookshelf. The two Hightower’s watch the Prince before their attention go back to each other.

“There has been talk around the Red Keep that you have been acting differently,” He starts off, “And do you believe them? They’re just talk father, they know nothing” Leyla scoffs in disbelief. The fact that he assumes the talk is true without even consulting with his own daughter about it was sad.

“I don’t have to believe them Leyla, I have seen it myself,” Otto stares into his daughter’s soul as she gulps. His comment made Daemon look to the two. “It’s not difficult to notice how ignorant you are to your own child. Gods, you walk around the place like a ghost Leyla!” He half shouts.

Daemon makes his presence known as he takes a seat near the two of them. Leyla glances at him before looking at her father again, “Father I’ve just been tired and she’s alot of work!-“ “Don’t act as if you take care of the child. Your wet nurse and maids do.”

Daemon chuckles, “She takes better care of her own child than you ever did when Leyla’s mother died” He butts in. Ignoring the Prince’s comment Otto continues, “People are saying you are incapable of being a mother-“ “Because I am!” Leyla yells, leaning forward in her seat as tears start rolling down her face again.

Daemon shifts in his seat as he leans over and rubs her arm. Otto looks taken aback, he was not expecting that answer from her daughter. “Oh please father,” She chokes back a chuckle, “Don’t act as if you’re surprised. I’m 15 for gods sake! Of course I’m incapable of looking after another human being, what did you expect?” Leyla spat in anger.

All her pent up emotions building up from the past 2 months were finally spilling out. “You act as if it is my fault for your ill-manner behaviour towards your own flesh and flood!” Otto points to her. “If it wasn��t for your pressure of producing heirs for Daemon and this marriage, I wouldn’t be in this situation” Leyla spoke through gritted teeth.

Silence filled the room. “I think it’s best you leave, Otto” Daemon stands up and looks down at him. The man scoffs and gives one final look to his daughter before leaving the room.

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fanfiction #matt smith #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x oc #otto hightower #alicent hightower #king viserys #kings landing #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen headcanon #hotd daemon #dearmotherhoodseries

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myocsfanfictions · 25 days

Text

THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 8

The rumors surrounding Rhaenyra’s children only got worse when her third child had been born.

Ysilla was now a girl of fifteen. She was very different from the skinny little child that had left Runestone so long ago. People would describe her as elegant, intelligent, and beautiful. She had grown to be graceful, as much as her dragon was. And as Dārysyr, her fierce was known by now. Her dragon had grown large and powerful; his muscles were well-formed, and his wings were strong. Ysilla went flying on Dragonback once a week. She would have liked to do it more, but she had her studies and her duties.

Just a couple of years before, Ysilla had the chance to speak with the Alchemists of King’s Landing, and she had been left very fascinated.

“Vysenia was said to be familiar with dark magic,” she said one day, sitting beneath the Hearth Tree as she observed Aemond practicing combat movements with a stick.

“You want to be Vysenia born again?” He asked, fighting against air.

“Do you think I’d made a fool of myself?” She asked with a little smile as she looked at the boy.

“No,” he answered, turning to her, “I think you are as willed as her. But with the grace of Rhaenys.”

Graceful. Yes. Ysilla had grown up to be very grateful. She knew how to bow, to speak, and to dance. The court was well impressed by her. And from Runestone, her aunt Jeyne was hoping for a good arranging for Ysilla. Not only because she had become very well respected by the people in King’s Landing but also because Queen Alicent seemed to have high expectations from Ysilla. She called her her ward.

“She probably wishes for you to be wed to one of her sons,” that rumor had reached her aunt Jeyne as well. And she seemed pleased by it in her letters. A Royce on the throne.

Ysilla, on the contrary, had no thirst for power. The thought of ambitions and schemes only reminded her of her father and what he had done to be always a step closer to the Iron Throne. But she was not her father.

The lack of personal ambition, though, did not make her blind to politics and schemes. It was because she knew how harmful they could be that she was always vigilant and observant of what happened in court. Fully aware that knowledge and duty were what was required to keep alliances and peace. She had grown up side by side with the Queen, raised by the same people that raised the princes. She knew that the health of the King was faltered, as did the respect some people had for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms when her children started to grow up to become more similar to the Captain of the Guards than her own husband. Everybody knew, and yet the King did nothing. This had also happened ten years before when her father had killed her mother.

“Are you not coming to the pits?” Aegon asked that morning when they were breaking their fast.

“You heard that right,” she answered, smiling at him before taking a sip of her milk.

“You cannot ditch me like this,” he said, leaning towards her with playful eyes, “I’ve promised you today would have been fun.”

Aegon had grown up, but his search for fun and enjoyment had remained the same. “Helaena wished to dance today. You know how I love her and how I enjoy dancing.”

He cocked his head to a side, “More than riding Dārysyr?” Then his hands moved to touch a strain of her hair, “Did I say how I like your hair today?” Ysilla took his hand to push it away. Aegon had always had a fascination with her hair, and since he had started to grow and notice women, he had begun to voice his compliments on her hair and appearance more often than not.

“I love nothing more than Dārysyr,” she answered, looking at the boy. "And we already flew with him and Sunfyre last week.”

Not so long before, Aegon managed to bend Sunfyre, becoming his dragonrider. Sunfyre was known to be the most beautiful dragon alive, and he really was. He had golden scales and pink shades, and even his flames were golden.

“I wasn’t meant to go fly together,” he said, a mischief light in his eyes.

“What’s with the face?” She asked, making him laugh.

“What face?”

“The one that always brings you trouble,” she answered with a glare. He was planning something. She knew him too well to be mistaken. She didn’t have time to ask because the wooden door opened to let Aemond enter the chamber.

“Good morrow, Aemond,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Ysilla, brother,” he answered shortly. It was how Aemond was, very different from his older brother. He was composed and dutiful. Less impulsive than Aegon was. “Mother is looking for you, Ysilla.” He said, sitting down.

“That’s why you’re not coming. Because of Mother,” Aegon said, making Ysilla turn to him.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” she said, standing up. Her eyes went from one brother to the other. "I’ll see you both when you return from the pit,” then she looked at Aegon.

“Behave.” He blown her a kiss.

“Like always, my sweet.”

“Stop that,” Aemond said, focusing his attention on the plate in front of him. Ysilla ignored Aegon, making her way towards the door. She wondered why the Queen wanted to see her. Ysilla knew she would have been busy with Rhaenyra after the princess’s labor ended and the third of her children would be born. Rhaenyra had been screaming for hours, and Ysilla stopped to observe the corridor that led to her chambers on her way to the Queen. By the screams, she seemed to be suffering very much. That made her anxious. She knew that it was a woman’s duty to give children to her husband. She just hoped the gods had mercy for them and an easy way to bring life to the world.

“Princess,” Ser Cole was guarding the door, bowing his head as she walked closer.

“Good morrow, Ser,” she answered politely. “I hope your day has been good so far.”

The man smiled, “It is, Princess.” His smile would have made her blush just a few years before. But the more she grew up, the less embarrassing it became to share words with men, even handsome men such as Ser Criston.

When Ysilla entered the chamber, the Queen was standing next to the window, and a serving girl was fixing the back of her dress.

“My Queen,” she greeted, bowing. “Have you asked for me?”

“Good morrow, my dear,” Alicent Hightower smiled kindly at her, “Indeed. Helaena is a little... agitated today."

Helaena had stayed the same in those years. She was still the sweetest girl that Ysilla had ever met. Sweet and gentle. But her queer behavior sometimes agitated even herself. Ysilla had seen Helaena in those moments, and she knew that the princess didn't like to be alone when she was feeling like that.

"We'll find something else to do then," Ysilla answered. They could have taken a walk or talked about bugs. Helaena liked bugs. Ysilla would have found something to ease Helaena's mind.

The Queen smiled at her, putting a hand on her arm. "What a blessing you are." Ysilla returned the gesture, bowing her head in gratitude and respect.

At that moment, the door behind them opened to reveal Rhaenyra and Laenor. Ysilla widened her eyes to see her cousin.

"Rhaenyra," the Queen gasped, "You should be resting after your labors."

"I have no doubt that you would prefer that, Your Grace," Rhaenyra answered, trying to keep her trembling voice steady. The pain that she had experienced was well visible on her face, and it was not surprising.

Ysilla had heard Rhaenyra screaming only a few moments before. She knew what happened during labor, and the septa had explained that to her. How could her cousin possibly walk? Or even walking up the stairs?

"You must sit," the Queen said, turning to one of her serving girls, "Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess.” The girl bowed and turned to attend Rhaenyra.

“There’s no need,” Rhaenyra said. By the Queen insisted.

Ysilla followed Alicent as they walked towards the couple. Rhaenyra had finally accepted sitting down with Laenor's help, but seeing her in pain and holding her newborn baby, Ysilla felt like moving so that she could help her cousin sit. As the girl touched her arm, the Princess turned to look at her. A small smile appeared on her lips, probably still trying to hide her pain. It was well-known how stubborn Rhaenyra was.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“There’s no need,” Ysilla answered, then exchanging a look with the Queen.

Alicent was observing the baby like she had done with Lucerys just a few years before. Ysilla knew what she was thinking: even this child had nothing of Ser Laenor in him.

As Ysilla went back to stand next to the Queen, King Viserys entered the chamber with a huge smile on his face. “What happy news this morning,” he exclaimed.

The years had not been gentle to the King. His body was weaker and more fragile. His skin had gotten paler and his hair thinner. The condition of his left hand had gotten worse. He first lost just three fingers, but it kept getting worse until the Maester decided that it was better to cut off the entire arm. Even so, Ysilla’s uncle tried to maintain a positive attitude, always smiling at everyone.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Ser Leanor, taking the child in his arms to present him to the King. Ysilla observed Rhaenyra’s husband’s face as he looked at the baby. He smiled happily and proudly. Could he really be so blind? He had never seemed such a man to Ysilla. It was true, though, that he was not very present as a father.

He is more present than mine, anyway. She thought as she observed the unbothered son of Corlys Velaryon pass the child to the King. But even in his expression, Ysilla could not see surprise or disappointment. She could not understand why both men acted so blindly about the behavior of the future Queen? Why did her actions have no repercussions? Everybody knew, everybody whispered. And yet the King did nothing.

He must truly love her, if he is protecting her like that. Ysilla thought, observing the happiness on Viserys’ face.

“A fine Prince,” he said, his eyes looking at every one of them. Ysilla smiled, lowering her eyes. “Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight.”

Surely, Ysilla thought. If the rumors were true and his father was Ser Harwin Strong, he surely could have become a terrific fighter as an adult. Breakbone was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Does the babe have a name yet?” The Queen asked with curiosity.

Rhaenyra took a breath, “We haven’t spoken-”

“Joffrey.” Ser Leanor interrupted his wife. “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

Ysilla looked between them, hoping that her face did not give away the kind of thought she had in mind. Had they spoken of it or not? Did Rhaenyra agree with such a name?

“An unusual name for a Velaryon.” The Queen was speaking the truth. Velaryon came from Valyria as much as the Targaryens. Their names came from Old Valyria to keep the traditions. But it wasn’t only their costume: in the Seven Kingdoms, all the Noble Houses had names and family names. Ysilla’s name was a Royce name. Her mother, Lady Rhea, had done it on purpose. Ysilla’s father could be a Targaryen, but she had Royce’s blood in her veins as well.

“I do believe he has his father’s nose,” Ysilla would have frowned at the King’s words, but she had to keep her composure, so she decided to look at Rhaenyra and smile at her. The Princess did the same, but there was no truth behind that gesture. They were both aware of what was happening.

The King chuckled, still focused on Joffrey, and soon after, Laenor did the same before clearing his throat.

“If you don’t mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest,” Ser Laenor said, ready to help his wife get on her feet.

“Of course,” the King answered. The Queen was soon at his side, taking Joffrey in her hands. Ysilla moved aside when she saw the King walking closer to his daughter, but she didn’t walk very far, curious about what they would have talked about.

“Well done, my girl,” Viserys said with tenderness. Such a tone forced Ysilla to lower her eyes, fully aware that her father would never have such sweetness for her. If she’ll ever see him again. She knew that he was an Essos with his lady wife and their two twin daughters. She wondered how he was fathering them. If he was cold and cruel like he had been to her so long ago. Ten years had passed, and yet she remembered the way he had looked at her as he said that he felt nothing for his firstborn daughter.

“I do hope the labor was easy,” the King said as Ysilla walked towards the Queen, who was giving the baby back to Ser Leanor.

“Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Sooner or later, you may get one that looks like you.” She had said it so politely, but her intentions were quite clear—she was voicing the thoughts of the entire court. The man looked startled, and when he noticed Ysilla standing there, she didn’t say anything. She only smiled, with no true intention behind it.

Rhaenyra then walked towards her husband before they both left the chamber. Ysilla bowed gracefully as they disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

“What a happy day,” the King exclaimed full of happiness.

The Queen lowered her eyes from next to him. “Indeed, my love,” she answered.

The whole situation was against everything that politics and duty required. Ysilla could understand why her uncle was protecting his daughter, but her King was making a fool of himself. And whispers could only get louder and louder, not only against Rhaenyra but against the King as well. He was not only Rhaenyra’s father; he was the Protector of the Realm, of the peace of the Realm. How would the realm answer once the King had left that world? What was ahead of them? That uncertainty was heavy in her heart. Politics could be ruthless, and it could reclaim anyone’s life.

“You wanted to dance, I’m sorry,” Helaena was saying as they walked in the corridors of the Red Keep.

“Nonsense, Helaena,” she answered honestly. The events of that morning had left little room for light emotions in her heart. “I don’t feel like dancing today.”

“Running from the back is important,” her cousin said. Ysilla turned to observe her. It didn’t matter how many years they had known each other; Helaena’s strange sentences left Ysilla confused all the time. She knew better than to ask. Helaena didn’t know how to explain the meaning of her words, and the more people asked her to, the more she got agitated. That was one of those days. One where Ysilla stood quiet, listening to all the strange things her cousin felt to say. She loved Helaena, but on those days, the hours went on slowly.

I wish I was at the Dragonpit, she thought. Ysilla wished nothing more than to be with Dārysyr, especially during days that felt so heavy in her heart.

They were back in Helaena’s chamber when the Queen arrived. Ysilla was set next to her cousin, who was very interested in counting the rings of a centipede. They have been there long. And Ysilla decided to take one of the many books that she had in her chamber to keep herself occupied until Helaena was satisfied with her counting. When the Queen entered, Ysilla was ready to stand up and bow, but the woman gestured for her to sit still and keep with her reading.

“This one has sixty rings and two pairs of legs on each, ” Helaena whispered, looking closer at the centipede, “It makes two-hundred-twenty-four.”

“Yes, it is,” the Queen said in a soft tone, even if her expression could not hide her worry. It was difficult to communicate with Helaena when she acted like that. They had to be patient.

“It has eyes,” the girl spoke, looking closely at the creature in her hand.

“Does he?” Ysilla asked, keeping reading her book.

Helaena muttered in agreement, “Though, I don’t believe it can see.” Ysilla looked at her with a confused frown.

“And why is that so, do you think?” Asked the Queen.

“It is beyond our understanding.”

Beyond mine, for sure, Ysilla thought at her cousin’s words. Those were too much of abstract concepts for her mind. She liked history better.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Queen answered. Some things just are.” As she finished speaking, though, the door opened to reveal Aemond. Ysilla put aside her book. Her eyes widened, seeing how dirty his face and clothes were.

“Aemond,” the woman gasped, walking to her son, “What have you done?”

“He did it again.” Ysilla stood up after Helaena’s words. He must have entered the Dragonpit. That place was dangerous for someone without a dragon, and Aemond was the only one of them without one. Dragons bend only to one person, and when they did, they will only listen to their rider. They could become very dangerous for anyone else. But Aemond had always been very fascinated by dragons. The pain in his eyes was always visible when they went to the Dragonpit.

Ysilla could understand him. She had been fascinated, too, before Dārysyr’s egg hatched. Being a Targaryen without a dragon hurt a lot.

“After how many times you’ve been warned,” the Queen reproved him, “Must I have you confined to your chambers?”

“They made me do it!” Aemond argued angrily. Who made him do it? Ysilla moved forward, feeling for her cousin. He truly seemed so upset. What had happened? But the Queen didn’t seem to share Ysilla’s same thoughts.

“As if you needed encouragement,” the woman said, worryingly observing her son to be sure he was not harmed. "Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.” When she spoke like that, the Queen truly reminded Ysilla of her mother's skepticism about dragons.

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond exclaimed. Ysilla’s eyes widened.

“A what?” The Queen asked in confusion.

“They said they found a dragon for me. But it was a pig!” Aemond answered, trembling with anger.

I’ve promised you today would have been fun. Aegon had said to her that morning. He was behind it. Ysilla could not believe it. He knew how Aemond suffered since he was the only one without a dragon. Even Rhaenyra’s sons had one each, but not Aemond, a son of a King. How could he be so stupid to do that to his own brother?

“You will have a dragon one day,” Alicent said trying to calm her son, “I know it.”

Aemond deserved a dragon. It was saddening to know that his egg hadn’t hatched. He had asked Ysilla many times how she did it as they grew up, but she truly wasn't sure how or why. Dārysyr was just born one day. It had been a very normal day. But Aemond’s didn’t, and it was not fair. Why did the Gods play such games?

Aemond lowered his gaze, “They all laughed.”

And why did the Gods make Aegon to be such an idiot?

_____________________________________________________________

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