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targaryenrealnessdarling · 3 months

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The Blood is Rare

Summary: Aemond has always loathed his niece, and the feeling is very much mutual | Words: 3.3k | Warnings below the cut!

Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, choking, slight knife play, biting, bitta blood, incest (character is described with strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping?

There was no plate at his spot at the table. No knife to tempt him. He would not break bread with those he could not trust.

Like an animal atop high ground, he sits rigid at the head of the table, on the outside unnervingly calm. But he watches with a keen eye the prey that sits at the other end.

She shares many features with her mother. His whore-sister. Her stubbornness, her determined gaze and the nervous twisting of the rings on each of her fingers into the bargain.

Had she not the dark brown, near-black shade of waved hair atop her head and bright, clear blue eyes of the former Commander of the City Watch, his niece and his sister would look nearly identical.

Unfortunately, they both shared his hatred for them as well.

He loathed the idea of them all. The birth of one mere brown-haired bastard was enough, and yet there were three of them, sat together in unification, as if to put up defences against the opposite side of the table, dotted with the moonlight-silver of Alicent Hightower’s children.

He smirked at the thought that she came mere hours after Jace. That she was unplanned. Unwanted. And yet here she existed, sitting with her eyes fixed on a flickering candle, trying to drown out the laughs, smiles and the oddity that was all of them all gathered together, enjoying one another’s company.

He knew as well as she did. It was the only thing they had in common. That they could see through this charade.

Aemond wondered if she had always seen it. Understood it. The strife that would happen between them. Perhaps she was a dreamer and could envisage the future before it had even happened.

She was a melancholic, hateful little thing. Born with fire and fury.

He supposed if anything, she was still the daughter of a Targaryen.

Aemond swore she was a witch of sorts. For she must have felt his gaze on her, and her clear eyes were illuminated by the dancing flame as they met him. Her expression unchanged.

His smirk grew that they felt the same about each other.

He was the cunt son of Alicent Hightower.

And she was the Strong bastard of his whore-sister.

Not breaking eye contact, she raised her chin, looking down at him over her nose, huffing as she turned away to sip from the cup on her small, delicate fingers.

Stuck up cunt.

The atmosphere shifted considerably as Viserys groaned, a frail hand raised to the injured portion of his face, to which Aemond felt a sick sense of delight. The guards swiftly carried him away by each corner of his chair.

And the gap between Rhaenyra and Alicent seemed to push each side away further. Irreparably so.

His niece did not appreciate his tribute to her and her brothers.

Throughout the evening, she had said few words apart from mumbled whispers to Daemon on her right and Luke on her left. But when Aemond stood to speak, he revelled in her undivided attention. In those angry eyes, he saw not only a loathing for him, but a loathing at the truth of what she was.

A loathing that he was right, and she knew it.

She seemed almost as disappointed as her mother when Jace struck him weakly.

And before Daemon could place himself between the warring factions of their family, he watched the Strong Princess march angrily away, her skirts in her hands, flashing a stern glare before she left.

Her eyes were all he could think about, with her face anchored in the firm grip of his fingers.

He thought she was so small and fragile, that he could just squeeze and break her little jaw, her bones clattering between his fingers like pebbles. And yet she still looked at him with such fire, that only one of Targaryen blood would be able to throw.

She looked at him like he was the most loathsome creature she had ever seen.

The passageway Aemond had her cornered into was stifling and suffocating, forcing them to breathe the same humid air in anger. He saw her face redden where he had her in his grasp, her glossy lips slightly parted to breathe.

“I will extend you the courtesy of assuming there is a very good reason why you have your hands on me like this, Uncle.”

He almost wants to laugh right in her face, despite what she said not meaning to be funny. She is so frail, and yet roars so loudly.

“There is.”

Her jaw muscles tighten in frustration, shuffling backwards though there is nowhere to go.

“Then, I dare say your reason will not be good enough.”

Aemond allows his gaze to roam over her face. Up close, she really and truly is the picture of her mother, with her father's unfortunate features to her disadvantage in her colouring.

“I merely wished to see the colour of your eyes, mandianna.”

“To make some cruel jape no less, I am sure.”

He grins at the way she takes a sharp breath when he tugs her face towards him slightly. And he swears he sees the pupils within the clear blue of her eyes widen as he does, and wonders if he is having the same effect swelling at the forbidden place between her thighs.

“You wound me, sweet niece. A man cannot simply appreciate the beauty of a woman? Does there always have to be some cruel intent?”

“With you, there must be.”

He somewhat loosens his grip on her face, fingers trailing down her neck, the glint of her earrings catching his eye. She visibly shivers at his touch there.

The most venomous expression sits on her face, and she does not miss a beat. Too clever and witty for her own good.

“Do not insult my intelligence, Uncle. I know what depraved thoughts bat around inside your head, and they are not original. A family trait perhaps.”

He hums, more amused than curious, but perhaps with a smattering of both, “And what of you?”

Her perfect little lips part to speak before his thumb trails down the column of her throat, long fingers wrapped around her neck to her nape. The threat of what he could do making her go quiet.

“What depraved thoughts bat around in your head, sweet niece?”

Silence wraps around them like a rope, tightening with the fibres cracking against their skin. Hot and suffocating all at once. And all Aemond can hear is the steady rhythm of her breathing, his eye wandering down to the necklace perched on her chest as her lungs erratically suck in air.

“It is treason to question my virtue.”

She swallows as his thumb presses on the centre of her throat, as if testing if she is indeed real.

“It may be treason to question your virtue, but it is not treason to question your honesty,” he replies coolly. Aemond can feel her pulse fluttering beneath her skin, the barely-contained rage on her face hidden only by a blanket of courtesy, “a maiden does not allow herself to be alone like this with another man.”

Aemond found himself, a man who had sparred with Ser Criston Cole for a large portion of his life, a man who as a child had claimed the largest dragon in the world and a man who had dealt with the burning pain of losing his eye, and the shame that he carried alongside it, was shocked into brief silence when his niece’s small, delicate palm echoed off his cheek.

It was not the force of it that stunned him so, but rather the shock that she had chosen to do it, with his hand around her neck and his frame blocking her escape.

The little dragon had felt threatened and given him a warning clip.

Aemond felt the warmth bloom on his cheek and smirked. She had slapped him on his bad side, where she knew it would sting the most. For a split second, white, hot pain nipped at the temples of his head as he turned back to face her, and saw that look on her face.

That she knew she’d made a mistake, but was too angry or proud to admit it.

Or perhaps she was both.

Excitement wriggled and rolled in his stomach at the whimper that escaped her lips, using the force of his grip around her tiny throat to force her back, muscles and bones rolling against the stone walls where she was trapped, and those clear, curious eyes darting back at him with distaste. And he was pleased to see, a sprinkling of horror and panic.

“That was a mistake,” he mused, pressing himself closer to her, his hand firm around her throat despite her own attempting to pry them off him. His other hand reached down, shifting her up the cold wall, and gathered her heavy skirts in his palm, and rucked them frustratingly up towards her hip.

He revelled in the terror that crossed her face, a smirk winding its way to his sharp features.

“How exhilarating,” he pondered, “to take something that you are not willing to give.”

“I will scream”.

“Then scream. I will say it was you who seduced me,” he bit back, watching her face and expressions that crossed them, “And who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter of a whore?”

He could feel her breath against his face, soothing the spot where she had struck him not a moment before. Aemond blinked slowly at the woman in his grip, apparently attempting to decide for herself whether it was worth the fight.

Or perhaps something else.

Aemond grinned, “like mother like daughter.”

And he enjoyed the fire it stoked in her eyes.

“You will let me go-”

He shook her neck in his grip, as if to make her be quiet. And it seemed to shock and scare her, for she closed her eyes to steel herself, “And then what will you do? Run? Scream? Or will you do something stupid enough to give me an excuse to make everything you’ve ever said about me, truth?”

Her jaw tightened looking at him, feeling cornered, but a strange ache between her thighs.

“You threaten me, Uncle?”

His dagger sliced the very air between them, pressing the tip to the column of her throat where his thumb had branded her not moments before, tracing the shape of her skin. His niece froze, her breath trembling and her head pressed to the wall, as if to try and pull herself feebly away from threat.

This very dagger was an extension of Aemond himself. As if his hand were still touching her but with a pointed edge. And he wondered if he sliced her skin, even just a little, would she bleed like him?

There was something there in her eyes as he looked between them. Her breath came in shallow gasps. And Aemond was willing to bet that deep down, beneath the demure veil she hides herself behind, peeking through, that she is wet and ready for him between her silky thighs.

“You are clever, dear niece,” he all but whispers, trailing the blade down to the neckline of her dress, the rich fabric yielding to it, “but not as clever as you think you are.”

She swallowed thickly as his blade teased the tied bindings to her dress, playing with the double-tied knots as if they were strings of a lute, and he was playing her easily. He plucked one, and then two, watching her face the entire time.

“You believe yourself a proper little Princess, do you not?” he asks, his voice low, almost feline in nature, his face so close to hers she can make out the stitchings of his eyepatch, “hair decorated with gold. Fingers adorned with rubies. Wrapped in lavish dresses.”

She flinched as he flicked his wrist, severing the second to last tie holding two sides of her gown together.

“But pull one little thread, and you unravel -” his tone deepens, forcing her to listen to every little syllable, his gaze boring into hers, “-and all you are…is a wanton, bastard, whore.”

She attempted to push his body away, but his dagger clattered to the floor, holding her easily by her wrists, near-painfully pressing them to the stone wall behind her. It happened so quickly. Lips, teeth and tongue fought as if in battle, and Aemond held her there for him, pressing his rapidly hardening length against her clothed womanhood, rolling his hips against hers to search for that delicious, forbidden friction.

It did not seem to him that she was fighting him, but rather fighting how he made her feel.

Her lips were velvety, moist and soft as his anchored hers apart to taste her, once having a split second’s worth it was never enough. Every little breath and whimper and he wanted to make them louder, make her submit, a part of him intoxicated by her when her teeth grazed his bottom lip, and bit on him, only for her tongue to soothe the area afterwards.

Aemond thought of what would happen, if he devoured her wholly, pressed so hard against her that it was difficult to fathom where either of them began and ended.

His lips moved along her jaw. She smelled of whatever oils were combed through her hair. Camomile and something sweet perhaps. Quickly his hand left her wrist to ruck her heavy skirts up to her waist, feeling her shiver at the touch he left behind with the brief touch of his fingertips where no man had touched before.

“Fight back,” Aemond dared, a mere whisper against her neck where he left his bruise-like mark.

He met her gaze, looking into her bright eyes and allowed his grip on her to slowly relax, waiting to see if she would push away. Scream and run, as she had previously promised. And while her jaw was still tense and eyes aflame with hostility, he swore he saw her pupils dilate.

“Just get on with it.”

The surging heat in his stomach distracted him briefly from acting cocky, his fingers fumbling to untie his breeches while keeping her elevated. And it felt as if his body was thinking before his mind when he looked between them to see her hefty skirts bunched at her hip, and one smooth leg on display, pulling his achingly hard cock free and tucking himself between the soft haven between her thighs.

She could pretend she desired him not all she liked, but when their gazes met in fire and fury, finding that in all of their fighting and struggling she was soaking wet, Aemond pushed against her entrance until she welcomed him, sliding within her tight, choking walls with a low groan batted against her neck.

She whined at both the intrusion and his tight grip on her thigh, one hand elevating it so that he could begin pushing up brutally into her. Shame rose to her cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly, finding the wet smack of their skin rousing that tightness in her belly.

It was both embarrassing and hateful that she found herself enjoying this, and that she let him first of all.

And all she could see above her when she opened her eyes was him, his lips parted to breath as if he was holding some beastly form of himself back, his hair spilling like rays of moonlight over his shoulders with every thrust into her weeping cunt and the way his lone eye never strayed from her expression, not for a second.

That is until Aemond felt as if not only he wanted to own her shame and her body, but wanted to show it too, and leaned forward to graze his teeth on the skin that was now exposed by the ever loosening shoulders of her dress, and sink his teeth in to mark her.

The sound that came from her was between a grunt and a moan, as his position changed the angle of his hips and the blunt head of his cock sparking pleasure deep inside her.

“Fucking…hate you…” is all she managed, feeling the top of his canine break the skin just slightly. Her voice clung to that flat, stoic hatred, and she hated that it sounded as if she were about to fall apart.

If it were possible, he increased the intensity of his movements, pushing up into her mercilessly and drawing feminine, soft whines from her mouth. Sounds he wasn't even sure before his niece was capable of making.

“I adore your fire, sweet niece,” he muses lowly, tracing her jaw with his lips, “I adore how much you think you hate me.”

She does hate him, she tries to think. But every thought that appears is swiftly batted away by the incessant rhythm of his cock pistoning in and out of her, the depraved sounds betraying how she truly feels. An internal war Aemond can clearly see.

“Do you like this? Do you like how much I hate you? How much I want to hurt you?”

Yes.

A thought rung in her mind that she wanted him to hurt her more, so that she could just feel something from him aside from the way he stretched her walls around him so deliciously.

The soreness of his girth is something she had not expected to be a problem, a lapse of thought that she will no doubt be paying for the next morning.

But this, this was a core lapse of morals, surely. Allowing him to do this to her.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh, as if pulling her to meet his cock halfway, feeling the way his body shuddered at the closeness of completion evident on his face.

Aemond grinned wolfishly, “You like this. We both know it.”

He thrusted into her so forcefully that she had no choice but to hold onto him, clinging to his leather-clad shoulder tightly when he met her fleshy end, her insides involuntarily squeezing around him in both pain and pleasure.

His hand came to her neck, clamping down experimentally on her windpipe, and groaning deeply at the way her cunt sucked him in as he did. Forcing her chin up so those traitorous blue eyes met his, he grinned.

Hateful little cunt.

Her peak crept up her spine first, feeling as if the sensation was melting her muscles where they sat inside her body. And then her lips parted in a soundless scream, pitifully moving her hips towards his to encourage the feeling to crest until it rushed out of her with a feeble whine, “uncle…”

Not only was the feeling of her quivering, velvety walls enough to convince him, but the way she called him that while he was so deep inside her, threatening for relief, was so erotic it did not feel depraved in the slightest.

But nothing was better than that wide-eyed, colourful expression of panic, distaste, hate and anxiety when he deliberately planted his seed inside of her. Aemond was sure there was no better feeling, bad intentions or no, her blood felt good on him, his teeth and cock alike.

All he could imagine was what dynasty could be created from such a house of revulsion. To watch this hateful little creature swell with his child, a true Targaryen. Only to put on the same stoic, flat expression which he knew was untrue when he'd fuck her again, and again, and again.

What flame flickered under that expression of hers, he wondered. What stone was hidden in the centre of her peachy, soft exterior. A heart, perhaps.

She didn't have to like it, this dance between them. But when he put her down and watched his spend trickle down her thighs, he would have her come to love it.

She existed for this. Whatever it was. He was sure of that.

“Well, little dragon,” he whispered, “the bastard daughter of a whore, with another growing within her?”

She swallowed around his hand as he tugged her face closer to his.

“Or burn with me.”

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illusioninfnty · 7 months

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day 5 ; nipple play

↠ alicent hightower x reader

fandom: house of the dragon word count: 835 warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader, reader has a large chest, semi-public sexual acts

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You always took notice of how the Dowager Queen Alicent would always come visit her grandchildren whenever you were taking care of them. After the first couple of times, it no longer became a coincidence wherever she would stop by the room when it was just you and the babes.

Today, however, was the first time she visited when your breasts were out, feeding the twins, one suckled on each nipple.

“I apologize for my indecency, my Queen—” you start before she holds a hand up.

“No need for that. It was my intrusion, dear.” Alicent sends you a shaky smile, and you can’t help but notice how her eyes always manage to flicker downwards. You have had a large chest ever since you were young, and by this point in your life you can tell when people are leering at your breasts.

You never would’ve guessed the Dowager Queen would be one of those people.

She stands proudly in front of you, chin tilted up. She dons her signature Hightower green, and her hair lays down in soft waves, her youthfulness still shining through. With her kids having babes of their own, you always forgot how close to age the two of you are.

Yet her eyes tell a much different story than her posture, holding in much curiosity and a speck of shame. You’ve seen this before with various women you’ve been entangled with. The hesitancy to admit their attraction towards another person of their sex, something frowned upon all across Westeros.

“Would you like to see them?” You gesture to the twins, who you hold in each arm.

She remains silent, avoiding your eyes. You can see the way she bites the inside of her cheek, as if contemplating what to say to you. But you already know what you came here looking for.

Just give her a knowing glance. “I’ll put them down for a quick nap.”

After you get the babes settled, you turn back to the Dowager Queen. Your breasts still spill from the top of your dress, unable to adjust them while holding both of the children. Alicent no longer holds her staring back.

You approach her, pensive in your steps so as to not scare her off. You notice the way her breathing quickens, no doubt her heart racing faster in her chest.

“Would you like to touch them?” you ask her. You lower the top of your dress even more, your breasts freely hanging and nipples hardening from the cool air.

A brief gasp leaves her lips as she glances up at you, then reaches a hesitant hand out. Her hand is soft, fingers delicate as they trace your breast, focusing on your nipple. Alicent tugs at the nipple, not too hard, but enough to send tingles down your body. You moan at her touch before focusing your attention back onto her.

“May I?” You gesture to her own chest. She looks at you pensively, and just as you believe she is going to deny you, you interject.

“It will feel good. Just like it does for me.”

The Dowager Queen must see the way you derive pleasure from her touch, because it only takes her a couple of seconds before she nods. “Then you may.”

You move behind her to undo the lacing of her dress, only enough so her breasts become exposed.

She goes to cover them with her arm, but you gently take them away from her chest. You place one of her hands back onto your breast just as you place one of your own on hers.

Alicent seems to imitate your own motions, her inexperience shining through. You tug on her nipple hard as she lets out a moan, clutching your forearms as a means to balance. She arches herself into you when you circle one of her nipples with your thumb, and she fails to conceal her moan when you lean down to lick the other.

Her hands lace in your hair as you give equal attention to each breast, alternating between flicking, pinching, and sucking her nipples.

It’s then that a piercing cry from one of the babes echoes out from the other side of the room.

You remove yourself from the Dowager Queen as you crane your neck, seeing how the babes have already awakened from their quick nap.

You turn back to Alicent as you smooth out your dress. “I must return to my duties now, my queen. I believe that little Jahaerya and Jaehaerys may still be hungry.”

Alicent blinks silently, staring at you with her wide eyes. When you start to redo her corset back up and adjust the top of her dress, she seems to finally regain her composure. “Yes. Of course. Yes, you’re dismissed.” She saunters out of the children’s room, but not before you catch the faint dusting of red that covers her cheeks.

You smirk at your newfound knowledge of the Dowager Queen’s tastes, and return to caring for the children.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #alicent hightower x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #alicent hightower #alicent x reader #alicent hightower smut

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asumofwords · 8 months

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

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

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

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

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, this has certainly been a build up, say 98 chapters long? Thank you all so much for your love, and messages, and support, I really hope you enjoy the way I eventually end SF&A. This was originally two shorter chapters, but I decided to combine them together instead. Bold italics are inner thoughts and flash backs as per usual. I have so much more I want to say but won't because you want to read it, and obviously we will talk after!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter 98: Hand Turns Loom, Hen Kasta naejot Zōbrie

When your mother had been crowned, you remember the day clearly.

How all the Lords and Ladies around you, knights, Maesters, maids; all those in her presence bent the knee.

All but Rhaenys.

How the sound of their rustling robes, their shifting pommels of armour, or clanking of their swords filled the air around you.

How your heart had swelled with pride, how deep and pure it had been. How you had felt adoration, devotion, and had no second thought about digging your knee into the ground below, bowing your head to your Queen.

But now, your knees would not budge, not even if you had wanted them to.

They did not bend, or creak, or crack.

They locked.

Refusing to drop down to the stone floor below. Refusing to meet the cold, hard surface, which would no doubt send crawling ice up your knees and body, but not only that, it would be to give in.

To give up.

To bend the knee to a monster.

And you had endured far too much to do that.

Too far to turn back now.

You would not bend the knee to Aegon, and so there you stood, in the throne room, before the Iron Throne, and the Small Council, refusing to kneel.

Refusing to swear him as your King.

Refusing to back down.

Gods be good.

Be on my side.

You could feel the heated gaze of your husband, and yet you did not tear your own away from the man before you, who took slow and calculated steps, each one echoing into the sparse hall as his boots thumped against the stones.

You did not try to move, nor would you have had the chance with the guards behind you, their presence coming closer. The warmth of their bodies behind you made the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end.

His violet eyes bore into your own.

His own flesh and blood.

His niece.

Your uncle.

Someone you had grown up beside. Someone who you had played with, and laughed with, and fought with. Someone who had grown into the monster he was today. And so he stalked towards you, and still you did not kneel.

Aegon, watching your refusal, looked to the guards on either side of you, and nodded.

Dracarys, Lucerys whispered in your mind.

Your knees hit the ground with a resounding crack, pain shooting up the both of them as the guards had grabbed you by each shoulder and forced you to the stone floor. Aemond shifted in your periphery, and you saw Alicent go to him quickly, grabbing his arm to keep him back, and yet you could not take your eyes away from the man who stood before you, hand resting atop the hilt of his sword, Conquerors Crown atop his silver waves.

This was it.

Today the Stranger comes for me.

Aegon smiled down at you as he watched you come to the realisation. And yet still, you made no move to swear yourself to him. No move to call him King. No move to save yourself. And although you had been forced to your knees before him, you had not bent them of your own accord.

“The punishment for a crime like this is death.” Aegon boomed to the chambers, voice echoing off the stone walls, his steps becoming slower as he came closer towards you, "I could have you hanged on the wall, or send you to the butchers block. Perhaps I could even feed you to Sunfyre.”

“Aegon.” Aemond's voice came from behind, clipped and short, held back by the last threads of his resolve.

You let yourself look at your husband, and saw that he had made his way closer, though Alicent still stood in front of him, hand on his chest as an act of a human barricade between her two sons.

Holding him back.

“Silence.” Aegon boomed, “Ser Otto, if Aemond speaks again, have him arrested and taken down to the cells where he can stay until the sentence has been served.”

You had thought to look to Aemond with your eyes for help, to beg for him to come to you, but all you had seen was the same man who had left you the last time you were here.

There was no saving you this time.

Dracarys.

The Small Council remained silent, not even Otto Hightower seemed to think he could talk reason into the King, and so he stood, eyes looking over the top of you at the opposite side of the throne Aemond was.

The King hummed, looking down his nose at you as a wide smile cracked across his pink lips, “Or…" He breathed, "You could take your place at my side as my wife.”

Wife.

Ice ran down your back as you looked at him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest, fingers tingling from the grip the guards had on your shoulders and arms.

It was in that moment, that you knew there was no going back from this.

Dracarys.

“Annul your marriage to my brother in the eyes of the Seven, and I shall take you as my second wife.” He purred, the proposition sounding as though it was a benevolent offering, when all those who were present truly knew the more sinister reasoning behind it, “You may atone for your sins and crimes by birthing me heirs, as is your purpose, whilst also upholding the terms of the treaty. An honour given to you which you don’t deserve.”

You jolted forward, grunting, trying to rip the arms of the guards from you so that you could launch yourself forward. Muscles in your arms burning from the struggle.

You were going to die.

And you would not go down without ripping his throat out with your teeth.

The guards hands tightened further, seams of your gown ripping as you struggled from below. Your eyes flicked momentarily to Aemond again, who looked as though he was fighting a battle of his own, but you knew, deep down you knew, he would do nothing.

As he always had.

And so you kept your eyes on the brother in front of you.

“My Husband-“ You began, venom dripping from your tongue.

“-Is my brother.” Aegon snipped, “And swore himself to me as King. He is bound by duty to the realm, and duty to the Crown. Aemond should be honoured that I would take his wife as my own. You would be wed to a King, not a second son.”

You sneered, trying to throw yourself forward at him, but Aegon did not flinch, and the guards pulled you backwards hastily, knees grazed by the stones below.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, teeth grinding against each other, heat in your cheeks, and blood thumping in your veins.

Dracarys.

The King laughed, head thrown back and violet eyes shut before he locked them back onto you. He smiled appreciatively, eyes roaming down your face, to the tight bodice of your dress and the way your skirts clung to your waist, all the way down to your knees on the stone.

“You are ready to serve me, as you are.” Your eldest uncle turned his head to look back at Aemond, “I will make her a good wife, one that can be tamed. One who will obey and follow orders, and all the while the treaty will be held. I am far more capable of tending to her needs, and a marriage to me is far better than death.”

You swirled your tongue in your mouth before spitting upon Aegon’s leather boots, “I will kill myself before I ever let you touch me again. I will throw myself from the window Helaena did rather than have your monster grow inside of me. And then my family will come you. Fire and blood, they will come. And you will die.”

The pain came before you registered what had happened, the sting spreading across your cheek as your head snapped to the side of the room, eyes trained tearily on the floor.

Alicent was heard in the background, hissing to her younger son, "Stop!"

Your ears rang, and you tasted the coppery tang of blood in your mouth.

You slowly turned your head back to the King, hair having fallen over your face from where it had come loose from your braids. You spat a bloody glob of spit at him again, attempting to aim higher, but the blood merely sprayed towards him and landed at his feet.

Dracarys.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips pulled back into a sneer.

“The Princess must have a weapon on hand. Strip her.” Aegon commanded, eyes jerking towards Ser Cole, who shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

Your head snapped towards the knight, “Touch me, and I will kill you. I’ll fucking kill you, Cole.”

Ser Criston Cole, a man sworn to his King, known as King Maker, stood dumbly as he looked to you and then to the man who commanded him. His tan skin was flushed at his neck, a pinkish purple spreading up from beneath the breastplate he wore, and his piercing eyes darting back and forth in decision.

This was not the first time that Ser Cole had been commanded to act in way that was not in protection of who he was sworn to.

Once before with Alicent.

And now with her son.

The Dowager Queen made quick steps towards you both, “Aegon.” She growled, leaving her younger son behind as her feet echoed on the stone floor, "Stop this madness."

You desperately tried to wriggle out of the guards grip, hissing and grunting, knees digging painfully into the stones as your dress ripped beneath.

A knight came towards Alicent, hand held outwards towards her in preventing her from coming any further, “The treaty, Aegon. Think of how Rhaenyra will react when she hears about this!”

Aegon snapped his head towards his mother, “Fuck the treaty.” He sneered, looking back at Ser Cole, “I command you to strip this traitor, and reveal the weapon she no doubt hides on her person.”

Ser Cole swayed, his long, white cloak grazing against the cold stone floors as he started to slowly approach you, eyes on you with a look of regret. A look of apprehension.

One of pity. One of guilt. One of disgust.

They were going to strip you.

Before all the eyes of the Council.

“You’re a monster.” You hissed, ripping a hand from one of the guards, reaching out to grasp at the King’s robes who stood in front of you, fingertips grazing his breeches.

For the first time, Aegon flinched backwards, and the guards rushed forward again, yanking you backwards and holding your arms behind you as you cussed, and cursed at them all, pain rippling through your arms.

“Kostagon se Jaes' ossēnagon jeme! Kostagon pōnta ivestragī nyke urnēbagon jeme zālagon. Kostagon pōnta tepagon nyke se kustikāne naejot gaomagon ziry nykēla. Jaelan naejot urnēbagon se ōños fade hen aōha qogralbar laesi skori gaoman ziry.”

May the Gods kill you all! May they let me watch you all burn. May they give me the strength to do it myself. I want to watch the light fade from your fucking eyes when I do it.

Aegon leant forward, looking down at you as you struggled, voice quieter now, tutting, “I still remember how wet your cunt had been. How much you bled, and cried. How you called out for my brother. For your father. Kepa!" He mocked you, your stomach roiled and rage nipped at you hotly.

Dracarys.

"I wish it had been me,” He smiled cruelly, “I wish I had taken your maidenhead, like I should have taken it years ago. I should have fucked a bastard into you before you left the Keep.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, lips curling back in disgust.

Baring your teeth back at him, you pulled at the guards grip, “You are nothing but a worthless, drunken, whoring King, who took naught but a moment until you spilled yourself inside of me. You are the most pathetic excuse for a man."

The King's face rippled with anger, brows drawn as his chest began to heave.

Ser Cole stood to the side, uncertain of what to do, unwilling to move again until commanded, Ser Otto watching with a stoney face, the Small Council shifting on their feet, all the while Alicent stood behind, guard preventing her from moving forward.

The chambers fell still, and Aegon sucked in his cheeks, gathering the spit inside of his mouth, pursing his lips to spit upon you.

A wet warmth landed upon your cheek.

It had been a warm day in Kings Landing.

The small folk had flocked to the beaches, dipping their toes and their clothes into the cold waves, desperate to cool off.

The Red Keep was no different.

Men and women gathered in the shade, or sat in their chambers, fans in hand, whilst servants served them cool cups of ale and wine.

Aegon, being the eldest, had devised a plan to keep cool that day. You were all to hide amongst the secret passageways, the cold stone walls protecting you all from the heat outside, but being the kids that you were, it would not stop you from playing.

“Let the girl get the treats.” Aegon smiled, light leaking into the passageway from the room beside it.

“Why do I have to go to the Kitchens?” You argued, annoyance rolling through you.

Aegon looked to your brothers, and then shortly to Aemond, who all stood in front of you in a line, “Because you’re a girl. One day you’ll be someone’s wife and have to fetch things for your husband. I’m giving you practice.”

Luc and Jace looked at each other, and snickered, though their laughter fell when you gazed at them angrily, “If you want the treats so badly, why don’t you get them. I’m not a maid.” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest.

Aemond shuffled beside his brother, looking down at the dusty floor, scuffing the tip of his shoe into the surface.

Aegon smirked, “You’d be a pretty maid. Mine are all so dull and plain.”

“I’m not going.”

Aegon looked at the three boys beside him, “All in favour for Y/n going to get us treats?” His hand shot up as he loudly proclaimed ‘Aye.’

Jace and Lucerys followed suit, hands lower and voices even lower, their brown eyes refusing to meet yours.

All turned to Aemond, who did not speak, and had raised his violet eyes towards you.

“Come on brother, don’t be a twat.” Aegon chided.

“He’s not a twat, you cunt.” You snipped back.

Aegon laughed, “Come on, niece, play nicely. I’ll even give you a kiss.” Aegon puckered his lips towards you, making kissing noises whilst Jace and Luc scrunched their face in disgust and laughed.

“Leave her alone.” Aemond growled, finally speaking up.

The eldest Prince looked at your two brothers before bursting into laughter, “Sticking up for your love, Aem?”

“Shut up, Aegon.” You snapped.

“Make me.” He grinned, stepping towards you as he pushed you to the ground, you landed on your back with an grunt, staring daggers at Aegon as you jumped up, moving to punch him.

Your eldest uncle was jolted from the side, falling into the narrow walls of the pathway, a cry falling from his lips. His pale hands scrambling to catch himself as he fell into the stone.

Aemond stood, chest heaving as he watched his brother come to the realisation that he had pushed him.

“You little-“

Aegon jumped at Aemond, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, jerking the younger boy around.

Jace and Luc watched on with wide eyes as you raced forward, "Let go of him!” You screamed.

Aegon’s arm cast out to the side and pushed you to the floor again, your head hitting the stone wall behind you.

You blinked, eyes filling with tears.

Aegon immediately let go of his brother and looked down at you. A tear rolled down your cheek as the back of your head throbbed, a hand coming to rub against the spot of impact.

Aemond raced over to you, kneeling down to check your head.

He turned to his brother, “I’m telling mother.”

Aegon sensing that there was no more fun to be had, spun around and left the secret passage, your brothers following closely behind, casting short glances to you to see if you were okay.

You sniffed, trying to blink away the tears in the shadows, but Aemond didn’t point them out. He came to sit beside you, back against the bricks, and you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

“Your brother is such a dick.”

Aemond sighed in agreement.

The floor of the throne room was cold.

Icy even.

Despite the beams of sun that landed colourfully onto the floor, streaming in through the stained glass windows, the stone would never warm. They would stay the same, icy, coldness that they always had been.

Unforgiving.

And they were just that, unforgiving.

Laid down beneath a tower of melted and twisted metal, made from an unforgiving King. A throne that lacked a soft edge, a show of compassion or kindness, even to those who were seated upon it.

The Iron Throne, for all intents and purposes, was just that.

Unforgiving.

Sharp and cold, made entirely of blades from those who had been conquered, those who had been slain, those who had fallen. And now your family sat atop it. A show of your ancestor, Aegon the First and all of his triumph. All of his power.

All of his mercilessness.

The skin of your cheek felt wet, Lucerys had stopped his whispering, and the world around you was oddly quiet. As though your ears had been stuffed with cotton, the muffled sound of the room around you making it hard to discern what was happening. And yet still, there was this odd feeling that spread around your chest.

Like the stone floors of the Iron Throne chambers, it was cold.

Icy.

They had always been a brilliant violet colour.

Your families legacy paired with the silver locks. And Aegon’s eyes had always been so telling of his moods, just like his brother. Telling of his thoughts, like a window to his inner workings and mechanisms.

It was always so.

They would dance when he was mischievous as a child, and as he got older, they would deepen with unspoken grief and paranoia.

But when Aegon was angry, they would become alight. Seemingly brightened by the flames that would lick him hotly at his cheeks, the colour lightening and eyes having more movement.

It’s how it always was.

And as you looked into Aegon’s eyes, you realised how much they had changed already.

The rage that had been dancing and swaying behind his eyes not a moment before, was now gone. Like a fire that had been snuffed out, a light that had been trampled upon, a lamp that had been extinguished. And now they looked up at you blankly, as you blinked down at them from below.

The noises around you became louder as you continued to stare.

A woman was screaming.

Why was she screaming?

Guards were crying out, men were cursing, and all you could do, was look at the head on the floor in front of your knees, and the blood that slowly leaked from its neck and mouth, seeping into the material of your skirts.

You wished she would stop screaming.

Someone kept saying your name, but you could not tear your eyes from the man below you. His silver waves were tinged with red as the blood spread into his silky strands, his mouth agape, but silent.

Finally silent.

His eyes were what really changed.

They were dull.

Lifeless, and almost grey looking.

Gone.

Aegon’s body was slumped beside it, arms and legs bent at unnatural angles, and blood leaking out onto the cold stones below. The thinner sections of blood had already begun to coagulate, the coldness sucking out any warmth from it and seeping into the porous surface beneath.

Life that spread and was soaked up greedily.

Like so many times before, the stones were fed with the essence of another.

How many more would face the same fate?

The coldness in your chest melted away, and a warmth spread through it, travelling up your throat, until it left your lips in a breathy laugh.

And then it kept coming.

And it did not stop.

You stared at Aegon’s head and laughed.

It was not something that you could have stopped if you had wanted it to, it did not even feel like you were in your own body, looking down from somewhere else in the room, perhaps even over your own shoulder. But the more you laughed, the louder the woman’s screams became, until someone spoke your name again, but louder.

You blinked, finally tearing your eyes away from the corpse of your uncle, the man who had raped you. The man who had driven your aunt to death. The man who had usurped the throne from your mother.

The man who had dealt so much cruelty.

And your eyes were met with, not the dull, lifeless violet that you had once been staring at, but instead a vision of violet and sapphire.

Aemond.

The Prince stood in front of you, looking down with a hard and stony face, jaw clenched and lips pressed into a line. Like his brother, his eye was the window to his soul, and flickering in the background was rage.

His shoulders were stiff, his body was tensed, and yet a hand was held out, steady towards you, palm up, scar revealed. The other was holding his sword tightly, body in a fighting stance, the blade dripping with thick viscous blood.

The blood of his brother.

Movement was all around you, and the woman still would not stop screaming.

Aemond barked at the room, “Hold!”

And the room fell still again.

All but the woman who screamed, and the men who cursed quietly beneath their breath.

You stared at Aemond's hand, the scar on his palm looking soft and pink, travelling up the length of pale skin. And with your own, you lifted and placed it in his, the strength of his arm pulling you to stand.

You knees popped and stung as you stood, the skin rubbed raw by the stone floors, dress ripped in some places. Guards stood dumbly on the side of the room unsure of what to do, all in shock.

Your husband flicked his blade to the side, blood spraying off of it onto the stones.

More food to feed them.

Aemond sheathed it back into its holder on his hip with one hand, the other holding yours firmly.

God you wished she would stop screaming.

Aemond bent down to the corpse of his brother, no regret, or grief on his face, instead a steady blanket of disgust and hatred instead. With his long fingers, he scooped the Conquerors Crown from the stone floor, looking down at it as he turned it slowly in his hand above Aegon.

The metal glinted, and the ruby in its centre glowed when the light shone over of it.

“What have you done?!” The woman screamed again, your head turning to see Alicent being held back by her father and guards, “What have you done?!”

Ser Otto Hightower, stood with nothing but shock in his eyes as he looked between his two grandsons, the one on the floor, and the one standing above him. His arms were wrapped around Alicent’s chest, keeping her pressed against him as she thrashed.

“He was to be our undoing.” Aemond stated bluntly, voice loud within the chambers.

Ser Cole did not move.

The Small Council did not move.

And all that could be heard was the screams of a grieving mother.

“Ser Cole.” Aemond gave the man what appeared to be a silent order.

Cole was a man who had been a father figure to him. A man who had trained him in swordsmanship and battle. A man who he had grown beside and watched support his mother.

And Ser Criston Cole obeyed, staying where he was, and all other guards and knights followed.

Your eyes roamed down his body, to where the white cloak, pinned to the pommels of his armour, soaked the blood of the King on the floor below. It tinged the white a deep red, and bled up the material, as though it had been thirsting for blood this whole time, much like the stones.

Aegon was dead.

And Aemond had killed him.

“What have you done, Aemond?! Your brother! The King!” Alicent cried, voice distressed as she screamed at her only surviving child.

Aemond ignored his mother, turning to you, a singular word falling from his lips.

“Come.”

The throne room was filled with your footfall as Aemond led you towards the Iron throne, Alicent’s cries which had turned to soft sobs, and the whispers of the Small Council.

No-one brave enough to speak up, or out against the Prince.

Aemond walked up the throne steps, as though he was born for it, as though he had practised each step with perfection. Each step taken was with purpose, as though he knew it was his true duty and right.

And you followed after, hand still in his, mind still in a daze.

You stared at the Iron Throne as he turned softly to sit himself upon it.

He looked comfortable.

At home.

Perfectly fitted for it, as though he was made for it.

With a look of determination, he handed you the crown, the heavy metal resting in both of your hands as you look down at it.

Alicent cried louder.

The room was still.

You locked eyes with Aemond’s violet and sapphire gaze.

And lifted the crown to place it atop his head.

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Text

Dragon of Dorne - Chapter I

A tale in which, during his marriage to Alicent, Viserys falls for a Dornish Lady of the Court and takes her as a second wife behind closed doors.

His relations were kept secret to all but his Hand and his Queen, at the behest of his young lady-wife.

Alicent is grateful for the reprieve, as although Viserys remains a dutiful husband, he has started to visit her chambers fewer times as his love for his newest wife grew.

This, of course, irked Otto Hightower. The man grew worrisome that if Viserys' third wife were to bear a boy, he would hold greater favour to be named as heir than his own daughter's children.

So when Viserys' third wife gasped her last breath in the midst of agonising and violent labours, leaving only a daughter in this world before passing into the next - well no one truly batted an eye, for a woman's labour and the task of birth, though an expected duty was a cruel and gruesome fate some failed to survive.

But Viserys' heart grew softened towards his surviving daughter, who somehow managed to resemble his first wife and last.

And thus, was born Viserys' youngest daughter - Alaynha Targaryen.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Alaynha Targaryen was a bright-hearted and loving girl, growing up in the Keep alongside her half-siblings - Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena - she had never been left alone long enough to feel unwanted or unloved.

Over the years, it had been Aegon who had taken her flying on Sunfyre towards the horizon, over calm oceans and tumultuous seas when she cried in his arms about her dragon that did not hatch.

It had been Helaena who whispered to her the dragon dreams of a beast, quiet and grey, that hid between the clouds and skimmed across the ocean's surface.

It had been Aemond who sought out the dragon, Alyanha holding him tight as they rode on dragon-back upon Vhagar, so she could finally claim it as her own.

It was her three siblings who cherished her wholeheartedly, even if she was not wholly their blood but simply half. It was her three siblings, whom she admired so graciously and so lovingly, that encouraged her to claim a dragon so wild and free that she was able to be where she was at this moment in time.

***

Alaynha rode on dragon-back upon her mount, a shy and young dragon that spent his years hunting across the sea and hiding amongst the clouds.

Grey Ghost.

A most honourable partner, should a Targaryen seek such a quality in a dragon.

Having spent most of her years wandering the Keep, she revelled in the freedom of flying whenever she got the chance. Unfortunately, the chance of doing so was rarer than she would like - both her protective father and kind stepmother fearful they would lose the girl much like her father had lost her mother.

***

Alaynha was only a babe when her mother passed, barely a gasp of breath in this new world when her mother took her last.

There were no portraits in the Keep, but her father would say he had her mother's eyes - dark and warm, like a beautiful autumn evening where the ground, deep and muddy, is flourished in hues of every shade from falling leaves and sprouting flowers.

She also had her mother's complexion, a glowing bronze in the flamed torches at every corner of her home. But her hair, long and twisting curls, were what made her ancestry undeniable.

Lucious white tresses that fell in wild and messy waves lay freely down her back. Her father would say they resembled that of his first wife's, and sometimes when he would look at her it'd seem as though he was staring into the eyes of a ghost or the shadow of an echo.

Alaynha was never sure if he was seeing his first wife or last, but each time she saw his stare her heart burned with pity for the old and decaying man, who simply craved love and affection from the women who had died brutal and unkind deaths.

Her stepmother was a religious woman, so caring and compassionate, that although Alaynha was not her own blood she treated her as though she was.

Alicent raised her as her own, grew to love and cherish her, to see her as an extension of not only Viserys but her own children. They grew up together, loved each other, and held each other close.

Alaynha was a secret Alicent wanted to keep forever.

Rhaenyra had already taken her son's eye, had taken Alicent's dignity and any respect she may have once held in Court. Alicent would not let Rhaenyra take her youngest daughter too.

Not when they managed to keep her hidden for so long.

Viserys tried to convince Alicent he did not hide the girl from his eldest daughter out of shame, but she knew better. She knew questions would arise because of the colour of her eyes or her complexion - questions Viserys did not want to answer to.

So when she had been old enough, perhaps two namedays or three, Alaynha had been sent off to live with her late mother's family in a city in Dorne, being taught the duties of a Lady until she could return home and learn that of a Princess'.

When Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone, Daemon at her side and her husband dead, Alicent let out a quiet sigh of relief. Her throat ached with gratitude at Rhaenyra's departure, as it meant her young child could return home from Dorne.

When Alaynha had returned to King's Landing, she cried for her brother who lost an eye, as he consoled her with the revelation he had gotten a dragon in return. Aemond made her promise to shed no more tears over a worthwhile sacrifice, assuring her that now he had the largest dragon in all the Seven Kingdoms, he would help her claim one of her own.

She still sniffled, latching onto her brother's side, inconsolable by the sheer violence he had endured, but accepted nonetheless.

It had only been a few years later when her siblings helped her find her life-long companion in her large and bashful dragon.

Alaynha had been taught the duties of a Princess from then on, kept close to Alicent's side if she was not at her brothers'.

Alicent couldn't explain her love for the girl, she had barely spoken to the girl's mother - her sister-wife - before the young lady had passed. But there was a fondness that grew so quickly, and soon it became as though she was simply staring at a child that was her own.

***

Alaynha reminisced over the small moments as she rode her dragon, her heart growing softer as she thought of all the affection she received from her family. She was only half Targaryen, but she was wholly their's.

Perhaps that was why time had slipped so quickly through her fingers, the sky darkening quickly before she realised that she had been cruising the sea for what must have been hours now upon her patient mount.

She sucked in a sharp breath, the darkening sky a reminder that she was to attend dinner with her family this evening - her Kepa would be there too. And, how dearly she had missed him. Father.

Her father had been kept dosed upon milk of the poppy, too far out of his mind to tell her apart from Aemma and her own mother, or Rhaenyra and herself.

***

There was a petition for Driftmark today between Vaemond and her nephew Lucerys. Her grandsire - simply in name - Otto Hightower had asked for her to stay away from the Keep until the matters had been dealt with, then she could return to the Keep when everyone had returned to their chambers and if all went their way, Rhaenyra would return with her family to Dragonstone the next morning and all would be set right.

Those plans had changed when Viserys denied his milk of the poppy, asking instead that a dinner party be held the same evening. He had summoned her at that moment, beckoning her closer before laying a gentle hand on the curve of her cheek - "my sweet child, I have done you wrong. Hiding you away from your blood. But no longer - today you shall meet your sister and nephews. Today you shall meet my brother - your uncle."

She had been nervous at his words, growing worrisome that her sister would dislike her because they did not share the same blood completely. Feared that her newphews would hurt her as they had done to Aemond.

There were restless whispers murmuring through her mind as she rested within her chambers, waiting for the petition for Driftmark to begin before she could sneak off to ride on her dragon. Aegon had come to see her before the petition began, and for all his faults - a drunken, petulant man who was never given the opportunity to be a child, simply a challenge to a throne he did not want - he was a great listener, offering comfort when he heard her speak of her fears aloud.

Aegon had to leave shortly after, though quite reluctantly. And Alaynha had taken that moment to sneak through the tunnels of the Keep to find her dragon whilst remaining undetected.

***

Alaynha was on her way back towards the Keep, her throat clogging up with a heavy weight as butterflies squirmed within the pit of her stomach. She didn't feel nauseous, but it was something close.

As the Keep grew closer, Alaynha began to wonder how this would all go. And even as she unmounted her majestic, pale beast, she did not let herself escape the confines of her mind - fearful she would turn away and return to the skies, too hesitant to take a step closer.

***

Alicent had not been happy with Viserys' decision to introduce Alaynha to Rhaenyra. The truth was no one was, and some part of Viserys was hesitant too. Fearful of the rejection his young girl may face, much like all his other children had.

Viserys was not blind to the favouritism he played, nor the feelings his children held towards each other. But remaining drunk upon the milk of poppy made it easier to ignore such notions, and act oblivious to the disharmony that existed in the blood of his dragons.

He had been growing worrisome, not having started the feast as he waited restlessly for his daughter to come, unbothered by the curious stares of Rhaenyra or Daemon. His mind began to wander as he imagined the sorts of horrors she could have experienced during her flight around the sea, blaming himself for allowing her to be out so late or at least not sending Aegon or Aemond as company.

"Is there a reason you wait, brother?"

Daemon's voice sounded placid, but there was a growing frustration as the table sat in a tense silence waiting for the King to make his move.

It seemed as though Viserys didn't hear him, and Dsemon rolled his eyes in annoyance. Instead, the man turned towards his wife, eyes glancing towards the empty chair that sat between Aegon and Aemond as he spoke - "where is my dearest daughter? I fear we cannot begin without her."

Alicent opened her mouth to reply, but a saddened voice spoke from behind Viserys, concern colouring her tone as Rhaenyra spoke - "I am right here, fath-

"I am sure she is on her way, my love."

Rhaenyra looked towards Alicent accusingly, and she truly wanted to laugh out of incredulity. For Rhaenyra to make such a bolstered claim, thinking her father spoke so sweetly of her instead of another was quite amusing, indeed. It made the possibility of Rhaenyra meeting her youngest sister slightly more tasteful.

"If it would ease you, Your Grace, I can go fetch the girl. She has likely forgotten about her promise to dine, distracted by her books and dragons."

Otto spoke precariously, knowing the girl was only out dragon-riding at his behest and though Viserys agreed at the time, reminding the man of such a thing when he was so wound with worry would do no one any good. And perhaps a reluctant part of Otto, the same part of him that cared and loved his sweet Helaena, had also grown fond of Alaynha.

Alicent spoke, fingers fiddling with each other as she pinched at the skin of her thumb. A blatant sign of her own anxiousness at her daughter's absence, "yes, that wou-"

The doors were opened, but no announcement was made. Instead, a frantic voice echoed across the hall as a young girl dressed haphazardly in a prim and proper light blue dress bound up the stairs - "Kepa! I am so sorry! I hadn't realised how late it had gotten."

Daemon Targaryen was a man of few words, preferring to show his anger out on the battlefield or his passion in the confines of his chambers. He had sat quietly so far, only a nodded greeting to his brother as he joined them was an indication that he was actually paying attention.

And now, eyes trained on the young girl who stood in front of him, cheeks heated from the cold wind brushing roughly against them, and eyes blazing and wild from the high of riding a dragon so freely. He felt a warmth begin to fill his blood, his face passive as his eyes burned at the sight of her.

Who was this girl? Was she his niece?

She had called Viserys father, but surely her mother could not be Alicent?

Was she a bastard, much like his own step-children?

Or an orphan they had pitied and taken in?

Daemon knew one thing for sure, the girl who stood in front of him - a timid smile and fumbling fingers - had captured his interest. Had ignited a flame he long believed to have been put out - tamed and tempered by Laena Valeryon. Extinguished by Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The Rhaenyra he had fallen for all those years ago had not been the same one he had married that day in Dragonstone, but she had Rhaenyra's eyes, her hair and her face, her voice and her touch.

Daemon had convinced himself he would need time to readjust, time to accept her as she was.

They had two children together, another on their way.

Daemon had accepted, he had conceded. And still, he felt like half the man he used to be, an ounce of the warrior that used to ignite his soul.

Now, violet hues clashing with glowing brown, he felt the dragon within him ignite and rise from the ashes of a man scorched and burned.

Taglist: @kelssssxd @esquivelbianca @chynagirl13 @luanasrta

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darkened-writer · 1 year

Text

imagine| Sapphire Gaze

summary || “You remind me of sapphires.”

request || Could write a fanfic for Aemond where he and his cousin (Daemons daughter) are in love with each other and at the family dinner everybody can sense that they have a special bond, much to Daemons despise. Just some angst and fluff please🫶🏻Btw. I absolutely love your writings. :))

pairing || Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

word count || 9,472

warnings || Minor angst, some fluff, Aemond needs a hug.

notes || This took me SO LONGGG, so I hope it was worth it haha. Enjoy!!!

The first time you met him was at your mother’s funeral.

Everyone was amongst themselves, chatting and dwelling on the memory of Laena Velaryon. Your sisters pouting and wallowing in their sadness while sitting upon a bench. Yourself, however, decided it would be better to stick by your father whom was near Viserys Targaryen; looming like a vulture seeking dinner.

You were always told, “You’re just like your father.” or “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” All in regards to your attitude and how well you swing your sword. You mirrored Daemon’s skills as if you were his long lost twin, and that worried plenty of people, especially Alicent Hightower.

“I’m old enough to notice your gazes towards Rhaenyra, Father.”

The man let his eyes leave Rhaenyra’s figure and settle on yours, your arms folded under your cloak. It was disappointing body language yet your face was upturned with amusement.

“Old enough? You’re just two years older than your sisters, my oldest.”

“I may be good at fighting, Father. But, I also have brains.”

He chuckles and turns to look at Viserys who was also looking at him.

The winds, however, pulled your gaze to a silver-haired boy looking at you from across the way, in a similar way that Rhaenyra was looking at your father. With admiration, a sense of longing, and yet you only knew the boy's name and nothing more.

Aemond Targaryen.

His eyes were scanning your figure, almost curious of who you are. What your origins were, but your train of thought was immediately interrupted.

“Your girls are the very image of their mother.” You turn to look at your uncle, the King, “A comfort and an anguish, as I well remember. The gods can be cruel.”

A firm pause, before your father answered, “It seems they’ve been especially cruel to you.”

The King finds the comment humorous, when normally it would be taken as an insult.

“Yes…” The tension was palpable between the two, so you speak.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Uncle.” You bow your head a bit and the man cracks a sincere smile.

“Y/N! My fierce little Niece, It’s great to see you also, even if under such dire circumstances.”

“Agreed, Uncle.” His eyes find Daemon’s again, “You should return with us to King’s Landing. It’s time that you came home.”

“Pentos is my home…and that of my children.”

“Daemon… I know we’ve had our differences, but let them pass with the years. There’s a place for you in my court if that’s something you should need.”

“I need…” His mouth moves to say ‘Rhaenyra’, but he stops himself, “nothing.” The silence hits once again but before Viserys could say anything else, your father walks away quickly.

“Brother…”

You place a comforting hand on your Uncle’s shoulder before walking away also towards the stairs to head toward the beach. The sky was a pleasant shade of gray, mirroring upon the shiny sea water that called to your very soul. The Velaryon blood coursed through your veins, drawing you towards the sea but the fire was just as mesmerizing.

The sand finally touched your boots, sounding a gentle crushing noise. The waves waning against the rocks, sea foam catching on the grains of sand. It was all too peaceful for such a saddening day, but somehow you knew that the sea took your mother with open arms to become a part of it once again.

“You remind me of sapphires.”

The voice pulled you from your concentration, eventually connecting a face to the voice. Aemond Targaryen stood with his cloak flowing in the high winds, hair also meticulously moving in tandem.

“Sapphires? Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply.”

“Well, I’d like to get to know you better, cousin.”

You tilt your head, “Ah cousin, should’ve known we were related based on the hair color.” Your hand finds the pin holding your locks upward and slide it out, letting the silver cascade down your shoulders and flow to the side. Aemond’s eyes watched your hair with great interest, rousing a laugh from the bottom of your stomach.

“Are you always this curious and interested in hair?”

He stifles a cough, “Erm– yes?”

“You liar–”

You quickly move past him, gently shoving him with a laugh that sounded like pure heaven to the boy's ears. You seemed to be in a playful mood, so the boy chased after you, laugh intertwining with yours. And what a true joy it was to meet someone in the family that didn’t completely anger you.

Hours later, after departing from Aemond, you were safe and warm within the covers of the bed you truly loved. Your sisters were asleep, subtly snoring until they were awoken by a familiar roar. Vhagar, Mother’s dragon who wasn’t supposed to even be flying or out this late at night. It worried the two twins, so they did only what they were taught in an odd situation, they woke their older sister.

“Y/N…Y/N… Y/N– wake up…!”

Your shoulders were being shook until numbness, but you eventually let your eyes fall open and settled on Baela.

“Mm…? What is it, sister?”

“Someone stole Vhagar.”

That sets the alarm bells in your mind off, “What?!”

Quickly, you put your dress and boots on and settled the dagger your father had made for you under your gown. Telling Baela and Rhaena to wake Jacaerys and Lucerys and meet you where Vhagar was going to land. And eventually, you all met up to investigate what was going on. Though, you held your sisters back behind you so you could go first in case of an attack. The distant crash of Vhagar landing made you jump, but alas you waited to see who was riding the Dragon that was to remain unclaimed.

“Jace, what are we doing?”

Yourself and the group of children all quieted down at the sight of Aemond.

“It’s him.”

“It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon.”

“Your mother’s dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now.” Venom was seething through his mouth, and you winced at his way with words, harsh and unruly.

“She was mine to claim.”

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

Rhaena slipped from behind you in rage, going to grapple and fight Aemond but was quickly thrown to the side and to the ground. Baela couldn’t stand to see her sister hurt, so the girl took her turn, throwing a punch and landing it, but ultimately getting the same force of a punch back, knocking her down.

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

You leapt to check on Rhaena to see if the boy had hurt her, while Jacaerys began to throw punches himself. With a gentle caress, you wiped the blood from your sister’s nose, feeling Jacaerys fall to the ground and the shrill shriek of Lucerys. It was chaos, but in spite of Aemond’s meticulous strength, you helped Rhaena up and she went immediately to beating Aemond up with Baela and Jacaerys.

Blood was all over the boy’s face, while you took the liberty of staying out of the conflict and helping Lucerys up from the dirty ground.

It didn’t last though, Jacaerys was kicked aside, the girls thrown, but Lucerys lunged anyways; getting put into a chokehold. Everyone tensed up as Aemond grabbed a stone from the ground and held it up, your heart dropping to your stomach. Was he going to kill your cousin in cold blood?

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

“My father’s still alive.” Lucerys wailed out with a bloodied face and salty tears, “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Aemond’s tone became condescending, and within that rage, Jacaerys grabbed the dagger that laid upon your thigh while you were ultimately distracted.

“Jace!”

You grabbed your sisters and held them back with eyes of fear, watching as Aemond threw Lucerys to fall to the ground, but Jacaerys caught him and threw him softer to land. The boy swung the dagger you once had, missing and getting struck by the stone Aemond wielded. The dagger landed near Lucerys, who grew strength in the moment he had of being defeated. And as Aemond had his arm held up with the stone, ready to strike Jacaerys down, he looked to you and your sisters; and you shook your head in disbelief.

What happened to the kind boy you had met on the beach?

Sand and then the slash and scream that accompanied it.

Aemond cried into the sandy, night air, clutching his face in great pain. Blood pooled and spilled from his left eye, slipping through his fingers like wine being poured from a bottle. You felt a twinge of guilt for not breaking up the fight, but you knew you’d done right by keeping close to your sisters. Because they were most important to you, even if the boy who was now seething in pain was kind to you once.

“How could you allow such a thing to happen?”

The king was chastising the knight in front of him, and you let your eyes come to Aemond sat upon a chair, having his eye cleaned by a Maester. Alicent Hightower, the queen, sat next to the boy with a vastly worried expression. A mother’s worry for her son, her boy.

“Who had the watch?”

“Young prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace.”

You held your sisters in a huddled hug, their blood coated on your fingers as you had tried to wipe their faces clean. Though, it had just ended with red smudges on their skin and crimson tips for your fingers.

“You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!”

“I’m very sorry, Your Grace. The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, Your Grace–”

“That is no answer!”

Alicent’s voice chimed in, “It will heal, will it not, maester?” She sounded desperate.

“The flesh will heal. But the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

Alicent and Viserys seemingly reeled at the news of their son’s eye now being lost, and you felt bile rising in your throat.

“Where were you?” Alicent began to antagonize her son, “Me?”

The answer wasn’t satisfactory, so the woman slapped him and he quivered in fear at the anger on her face.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool.” The Hightower woman was seething in anger, a sight that was rare and never welcomed. But before anyone else could possibly speak or do anything, doors opened and Corlys and Rhaenys rushed down the stairs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Y/N, Baela, Rhaena! What happened? What happened?” The older woman immediately embraced your sisters, pulling you into the hug roughly but with care. Corlys went front and center while Rhaenys was comforting your sisters and rubbing your shoulder in hopes of easing you. The grand doors opened with a creak and Rhaenyra Targaryen came waltzing in with a face stricken with intense, motherly worry, but what was odd was your father was trailing behind her; making eye contact with you before leaning against the doorway to watch the commotion.

“Jace? Luke!” She rushed to kneel in front of them, trying to assess the damage of Lucerys’s nose.

“Show me. Show me.”

His small hand moved from his nose, and a fresh gush of blood fell.

“Who did this?”

“They attacked me!”

“He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

The children continued to shout and make their own arguments and claims of what had happened, “He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“Enough.”

“He was gonna kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!”

“Enough–”

“It should be my son telling the tale!” Alicent now joined the children in their chorus of cries and shouts, until–

“Silence!”

Instantaneous silence at the King’s yell, Jace leaned down to his mother’s ear to whisper something that made her face go pale as she rose. Must’ve been the phrase that started the physical altercation, ‘Bastard’.

“Aemond…” The King made his way down the small bit of stairs ever so slowly, “I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.” Alicent chimed in, “It was a regrettable accident.” Rhaenyra argued.

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.”

“We had no idea it was your son whom was riding, Vhagar!”

Alicent’s gaze turned to you now, “Past conflicts have arisen between them and yet you had no idea it was Aemond?”

“No– and it was I who brought the blade, for protecting my sisters and cousins in case of danger.”

Alicent’s eyes rolled, “And you claim to be oh so high and mighty now, protecting family–”

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Rhaenyra interrupted the Queen from continuing.

Viserys’ perked up, “What insults?”

“The legitimacy of my sons’ birth was put loudly to question.”

“What?”

“He called us bastards.”

The room went silent, even a drop of wine could sound across the room.

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

The boy peeked from the rather large chair he was sat upon, looking you directly in the eye as Rhaenyra spoke, sending a chill up your spine at the view of his now lost eye, bloody and bruised.

“Over an insult? My son has lost an eye.” Alicent’s hand roughly gestured to Aemond.

“You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?”

“The insult was training yard bluster.” Alicent interrupted, “The lot of boys. It was nothing.”

“Aemond… I asked you a question.” A pause, before Alicent spoke once again, “Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys’ father? Perhaps he might have some say in the matter?”

“Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace. I… could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.” Your father was glancing at Rhaenyra with eyes you knew well, and your stomach felt like it was weighed down by stones. He was getting involved with his niece, on the day of your mother’s funeral.

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture.”

No one laughed, not a single breath except for the hateful looks both Rhaenys and Corlys sent Alicent. Viserys was neglectful of the looks and continued his earlier conversation with his injured son.

“Aemond… look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Pregnant silence, before he spoke, “It was Aegon.”

“Me?” The other boy looked terrified, “And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies? Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, Father…” The room suddenly feels hotter, “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Most of everyone in the room peers at Rhaenyra and her sons, her hand laid on her youngest head, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes. Alicent visibly looked saddened, but you knew deep down she most likely felt satisfied about his answer, but the complete opposite could be said for Viserys.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologises and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”

The obviously sick and decrepit man, our king, began to walk away, his cane clicking against the ground abrupt against the awkward silence. Alicent looked appalled at her husband's words, tears in her eyes mirroring Rhaenyra.

“That is insufficient.” He turns around, “Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. “Good will” cannot make him whole.”

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken.”

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return. And if not her son’s, then the one who brought the blade in the first place.”

The room began to murmur, your eyes widening at her proposition. Rhaenys’s grip around you became tighter in her own worry.

“My dear wife…–”

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.”

“Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgment.” He shares brief eye contact with your father.

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston… bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon or Y/N Velaryon.”

“Mother!” The small boy shouts, and you turn to look at your father who looks more antsy than before, worried.

“Alicent…”

“The one you choose can choose which eye to keep, a privilege neither of them granted my son.”

“You will do no such thing.” Rhaenyra defended, beginning to look just as worried as your father; if not worse.

“Stay your hand.”

“No, you are sworn to me!” She yells to Ser Criston, “As your protector, My Queen.”

A sense of relief washed over you, Alicent looking more and more disappointed by the second.

“Alicent, this matter… is finished. Do you understand?” The king and queen share eye contact for a moment, before the king turns to leave the whole situation all together, but he must leave a brief message.

“And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Rhaenyra leans down to console her sons once again, yourself choosing to kiss the tops of your sisters’ heads, until chaos strikes. Alicent moved steady towards Rhaenyra with the blade Viserys usually carried at his side, looking like a woman on a mission, and various people began to shout which alerted her to the oncoming attack; catching Alicent’s arms in a grapple. Luke screamed in fear and you instantly huddled towards Baela and Rhaena to protect them, not noticing your father trying to get to you but being interrupted by Ser Criston.

“You’ve gone too far.”

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom , the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please. Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”

“Release the blade, Alicent.” Her father spoke, but she did not listen.

“And now you take my son’s eye, and to even that, you feel entitled.”

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you really are.” And with a push away, the blade penetrates Rhaenyra’s skin, conjuring up blood at her wrist that slips down, down, until the crimson liquid hits the marbled floor. Her face was open in shock at what had just happened, even Alicent looking shell-shocked at what she did. The blade in her hand tumbling down and hitting the floor to mirror the bloodshed.

But, now Aemond was up from his seat, eyes turning to him instead of the commotion.

“Do not mourn me, Mother.” She looks at him, “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon. And Y/N was not at fault at all–”

You both look to each other, “She didn’t even try and hurt me, she stayed out of it, so bid her mercy…”

You let the corners of your mouth slide up in a thankful smile, and he only replies with a nod.

“This proceeding is at an end.”

Ser Criston releases your father, and he makes haste in reuniting with you and your siblings and Rhaenyra, looking at Alicent with the same gaze as the rest of your family, stern, dark, and direct.

Ten years have passed since that fateful night.

Baela had traveled to Driftmark to be a Ward for Rhaenys and Corlys, Rhaena deciding to stay with you to keep you company against the hoard of boys. Lucerys and Jacerys were handfuls in of themselves, despite their older age. But now you had little Joffrey and his two brothers to mess about and yell into the halls of Dragonstone.

Your father and Rhaenyra had wed the morning after the night of bloodshed, happy and content within joining their two families, and Rhaenyra was now pregnant with yet another child after two younger boys with Daemon. You’d hope that they would be a girl.

Though, the peacefulness that was your home was breached by a letter sent by Baela, giving information about Corly’s brother challenging Lucerys’s legitimacy to the Driftmark throne. He was going to present it to the king in hopes of staking claim over Luke, which made Rhaenyra instantly angered by the audacity. And, that is when your parents decided that it would be best to travel back to the kingdom to make their own claim against Vaemond.

A ship ride and a carriage ride, and you were now arriving at the castle that held the man that weighed on your thoughts for a decade.

Aemond.

The boy saved you from losing an eye by claiming your innocence.

How would he look after ten years? Handsome? Stubborn like his mother? The question hung in your head until the carriage stopped and Rhaenyra sent you a small smile to tell you it was time to exit.

“All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne and her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

The bells tolled, and the cold air drifted into the now open carriage as Rhaenyra exited promptly and with a regalness that only royalty could muster. Your father exited just after her without a care of how he looked, but you waited and helped Rhaena out of the carriage before letting Jacerys and Lucerys go and then yourself.

Your whole family was adorned in black and red colors, contrasting the green banners that were in the yard you stood in. Rhaena’s rather cold hand grasped yours, and you let your thumb absentmindedly rub against the frozen skin. She felt anxiety, it was only normal considering where you all stood.

Lord Caswell suddenly came from the entry doors with careful consideration, before coming to stand in front of Rhaenyra and bowing his head. His wrinkled hands found her soft ones, eyes speaking with care.

“Welcome back, Princess.”

“Lord Caswell.”

The man kindly escorted you all into the castle, and the decor change seemed to alarm both of your parents. The green, the religious symbols, it was all so daunting for two people who were raised here. Alas, you had to separate from them as they had duties to attend to, so you followed your brothers to the training yard, their black cloaks dragging behind them like crows feathers.

Two knights were sparring, catching the eyes of the boys, however you were focused on the blades sat against wood planks to be picked up.

They were awfully shiny and caught your eye, the indistinct chatter all around you becoming void.

“See? I told you this would still be here. And you thought you could swing Criston’s morningstar. And you almost took your own head off.”

Lucerys grumbled beside you, looking at the weapons also as Jacerys rustled the boys’ hair, yet he was focused on the various people staring at you three with curious eyes. Jacerys noticed immediately, “What’s your problem?”

You picked up a shiny blade, twirling it in your grasp, “Everyone’s staring at us–”

“Hyah!” Jacerys tried to play, even smiling a bit but it was shut down by Lucerys’s sour attitude.

“No one would question me being heir to Driftmark… if… if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon than Ser Harwin Strong–”

You quickly dropped the sword and placed a hand on your brother’s shoulder, gathering his attention, “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

It seemed to ease him, before a crowd had gathered and cheering began, grunts from the middle of the crowd. Jacerys dragged you two immediately to whatever was going on, and the view shocked you.

A white-haired man brandished a shield and sword, moving swiftly towards the Dornish looking knight, taking a hit to his shield and causing the crowd to react with “ooo”’s and “ahh”’s. But the white-haired mystery was smart, he threw the shield to the side and began relentless swipes towards the knight, but he dodged anyways, now revealing the face of the man.

Aemond–

This alarmed Lucerys, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He moved meticulously, like a spider on a wall, fast and deadly. His moves were awe-inspiring, and every jab of his sword made your heartbeat faster and faster; until the pointy end was at the knight’s neck and the crowd applauded.

“Well done, my Prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Nephews, Niece… have you come to train?”

His one eye was wide and awake, an unnerving chill being sent up your spine just by his glance. But before any of you three could reply, a guard shouted.

“Open the gate!”

There was a large creak before your relative, Vaemond, waltzed through with his battalion, making a huge deal out of his arrival. Until you feel a hand grasp yours and pull you back and away from the crowd. The hand was warm and inviting, callouses from sword handling prominent but the veins in the arms were so very noticeable.

He was pulling you fast towards the library, not even giving you a second to rest before the library doors shut and his gaze was on you once again. His singular eye wandered your entire figure, starting from your face, down to your neck, your chest, your waist, legs, and then back up. He hummed a content, “hmmm”, before speaking.

“My– how you’ve grown, Niece…”

“Could say the same to you, Aemond.”

He circled you now, like a shark circling blood in the ocean, but your desire was probably ten times that. You missed him even after only knowing each other for a day, and it scared you; how much you wanted to kiss him, bite his neck, or nibble on his ear. The possibility of hearing the low, guttural noises of pleasure from him was surfacing in your mind.

You hoped whatever god or gods there were that he couldn’t read your mind right now.

The eyepatch slung on his head looked to be made of fine leather, of course made by someone of exceptional skill and yet, the man most likely saw himself as a cripple due to the loss of his eye. His hair was long and flowed down his back almost like a ravenous river, uncontrollable and wild. What brought out a slice of curiosity from you though was the blue glimmer from under the eyepatch he adorned, did he really stick a gem into his eye socket?

“You still remind me of sapphires.”

“Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply, Aemond–”

He smirks, lips upturning, as if remembering the very same day you both had met and spoke. Of course, it was hard to forget you, and the way you didn’t join your siblings in crippling him. You were merciful to him, yet, you were known to have the same anger and rage boiling in you as your father, Daemon. And after these ten years that had passed, there was never a quiet moment where he wasn’t pondering about you, your whereabouts, or how you might have aged and come into your own body.

And you sure had matured in all the right places.

“What did you hope to achieve by pulling me into the library?”

Were you hoping to get a rise out of him? Because the palpable tension of ten years was straining like a rope at its breaking point. About to snap.

“Privacy, mostly, Niece.”

He stood firmly in front of you, now closer than he previously was but just far enough to where you could feel the lingering touch of his hand. His fingers were long, slender, and strong; built for sword fighting and taking down armies of men. He was stronger than he looked. His hand trailed up your arm, settling just under your ear within the crease, cradling your cheek longingly. His gaze mirrored that of when he first saw you, adoring and curious. How is it that such a violent man could stoop into a passive state around a woman he cares for, admires and cherishes.

“You’ve gone soft, Aemond. Where is that daring sword fighter I just saw outside?”

“Even a man as violent as direwolves would falter under the eyes of the woman he loves.”

“And you love me?”

“Of course, I do… ever since we were kids. Ever since the day I lost my eye. I gained a dragon and a person worth fighting for.”

His thumb stroked the skin of your cheek, “Do you feel the same, Sapphire…?”

Before he could even utter another word, your lips were on his.

You didn’t see Aemond the rest of the day after the shared kiss.

He had duties to attend to and Daemon had called upon you for your sword training, which he always let you handle Dark Sister since you would be the one to inherit the blade. A powerful symbol and an even swifter blade then the dagger you’d been carrying since you were a kid.

The same dagger that took out Aemond’s eye.

The guilt of even taking the blade in the first place to the cavern was still apparent in your older age, but even your sisters liked to assure you that it was the right call.

You were their protector. Their older sister and through marital laws, could be the heir to the Iron throne if Rhaenyra deemed it so.

The oldest of all your siblings, you were also the fiercest, yet the most gentle.

‘The Realms Essence’, you’d heard in villages.

‘She embodies love and hate, the wind and the flame.’

Yet, you were always drawn to the sea and the color of sapphire blue.

The next day was the day of defending Lucerys’s claim to the throne of Driftmark, his birthright and exactly what Corlys’ would have wanted.

Rhaenyra awoke you in the morning, carrying a red and black dress with a blue dragon sutured up the back. It was the color of your dragon, Bessoarth, The Nocturnal. The glimmering yellow of the eyes of the dragon drew you in as your mother helped you put on the dress, smoothing out any creases and beginning to braid your hair in a Dragon riders’ style.

She had said she used to wear her hair the exact same way when she was younger, and a swell of pride bundled up in your heart.

You missed your true mother, Laena, but the attention and love from Rhaenyra brought new light to your inner child.

Eventually, you and your whole family were gathered in the sacred room that held the Iron Throne. The crowds chattering about whatever came to mind but all was put silent as Otto Hightower began to speak and start the meeting.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He takes a seat on the throne.

“The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Your relative walks up to speak his truth, while you immediately tried to find Aemond’s gaze, once locking, a smile arose on his lips that didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone.

“My Queen. My Lord Hand.”

Alicent looks at Vaemond, “The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon–. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

Rhaenyra was right in her correct interruption of Vaemond, yet Alicent Hightower interrupted her immediately.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

The tensions between the two formal friends was sharp and unyielding, but to make matters worse, Ser Vaemond came with a rebuttal to Rhaenyra.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it.” Rhaenyra nods to herself, “This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” The man lets his eyes land on Lucerys, which you firmly reply with shoving the boy slightly behind you, looking Vaemond in the eyes with haste. How dare he look at him with such satisfied eyes, who did he think he was?

“My Queen, My Lord Hand.” He was an ass kisser, that much was obvious. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor… the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.”

He sent one last glance at your family before taking his place once again.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

She took firm steps to the front, holding her wrist with a certain amount of anxiety that was only a bit noticeable. But even in her worries, she gave off a sense of knowing it would all be okay somehow.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very–”

A noticeable creak sounded throughout the hall, taking everyone's gaze to the grand doors behind. The almost toppled over body of your Uncle came firmly to enter the meeting, a golden mask clad on the right side of his face. His white hair was sparse and thin, just about all of it gone and yet his head still held the crown with delight. His cane clicked on the cobblestone ground, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Rhaenyra’s face.

Her father was here to save the day.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

The room bowed their heads to the King who would die being known for the kindness of his heart, and the love he held for his family. A truly noble man.

He moved slowly and with a limp, but kept his gaze on his only child, knowing what he had to do, and he would not fail.

“I will sit the throne today.”

“Your Grace…”

The determination your Uncle exhibited was noteworthy and brought a great comfort to you, knowing the bloodline you stem from ties into a man so oddly heroic, even in his last days.

Through his difficulty to climb up to his lofty seat, the crown on his head fell with a thud which prompted yourself and your father to try and aid him.

Daemon held Viserys and helped him to the throne and you had the honor of placing the crown back onto his head. Even after bickering and arguments, the brothers knew they would always have each other, even if one were to pass. And you gave your Uncle an adoring gaze and a loving smile, before joining your family once again.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.”

The whole room peered keenly at the older woman, herself stepping forward with her black grown dragging against the ground behind her.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon.” Rhaenyra perked up, “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Baela looked to be smiling a bit, Alicent shaking her head to herself as if in disapproval.

“Well…” Viserys began, “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucery Vvelaryon of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

He wheezed after his proclamation, Rhaenys rejoining Baela and Vaemond, staring daggers into Rhaenyra, making a ‘tch’ sound.

“You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.” He steps up to speak once again, “Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“”Allow it”? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The man turns and points at Lucerys, face drawn up in a flame like anger, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

You draw Lucerys back behind you, Rhaenyra turning and looking him in the eyes.

“Go to your chambers. You have said enough.” She looks to Vaemond with pleading eyes, not wanting to argue over something so realistically small. However, Viserys decides to chime in again.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” His venom laced eyes turned to our family once again, “And gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this–” He pauses.

Daemon seeks the words Vaemond wishes to utter and says, “Say it.”

The whole room seemingly freezes, the air thin, but Vaemond couldn’t restrict his tongue.

“Her children… ARE BASTARDS. And she… is… a whore.”

The crowd stirs with gasps and while Viserys tries to rise, you put a comforting hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

“I…” The king pulls his dagger from under his cloak, “will have your tongue for that.”

But before anything could even happen, the sound of a sword being swung erupted and Vaemond Velaryon’s top half of his head fell to the ground, soon following his body. Everyone gasped and Alicent pulled Haelena into a hug, knowing the view troubled her. Rhaenyra was shocked but even you knew your father would not let those words go without punishment.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“DISARM HIM!”

“No need.” Daemon quickly cleaned his blade with his cloak and sheathed it, Aemond now meeting your wandering eyes with one thing on his mind.

You certainly inherited your father’s flare.

The King fell back into the throne, Alicent calling for the maesters and Rhaenyra rushing to his side to check on him. The dagger sheathed at your side seemed to burn and itch every second, yet that didn’t even disturb you. Aemond’s almost excited gaze towards Daemon is what truly did you in.

With the day just about gone, it was time for dinner.

The whole family, including Alicent’s children, were all to attend. You dreaded the ordeal simply by the fact that you knew trouble would most definitely stir up. It was bound to happen with the tensions rising between Rhaenyra and Alicent, not to mention Aemond’s anger towards Jace and Luke. The only person who seemed to not even care about what was going on was Haelena, as she was sipping her wine and smiling to herself, muttering phrases that made anyone shiver. You felt bad for her.

The doors opened to the dining room and Viserys was carried in, everyone standing in greeting to his royal majesty. He had looked tired, exhausted even, and that saddened your heart.

The sadness could never really last with Aemond staring into your very soul any chance he could, wearing a lustful smile, mind wandering to where the kiss prior could have led. The feelings stirring in your heart were that of love, the very thing that slays duty. A dangerous thing.

Once Viserys was finally seated, everyone else followed suit. His lowly eye looking around the whole table, taking in the sight of his family together, even if torn all the same.

“How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.”

His adoring gaze landed on Rhaenyra, before Alicent spoke.

“Prayer before we begin?”

“Yes.”

An odd thing that your mother had pointed out to you, was that Alicent was never religious during the time they spent together in their youth. The randomness of the religion she was now devout to had caused her great confusion, though she was not one to deny someone the freedom of worship.

“May the mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

Your father sent a playful gaze at you, which you dismissed with an eye roll towards his attitude.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes… and their betrothed.”

Aemond’s eye was on you once again at the mention of betrothal, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hear, hear!”

Everyone raised their glasses, the bitter wine wrapping around your tongue and slid down your throat with an aftertaste that was oddly sweet. The aroma had accents of earthy tones that reminded you of the sea, your home. Aegon’s whispers to Jace were heard but not acknowledged by you as you enjoyed your wine.

“Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys… the future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear.”

“You’ll be great.”

Aemond’s lingering stare towards Lucerys was dark, one of extreme distaste, which reflected directly how he felt towards Jacerys also. But not you, never you, you were a person with an attitude that mirrored the harsh waves. Yet, you were delicate and sweet like his favorite fruit, the blueberry.

“You look beautiful, my daughter.”

Daemon laid a hand upon yours that sat on the table, smiling at you proudly.

“Thank you, Father. Rhaenyra has helped me pick the most beautiful of dresses. I owe it to her.”

The lovely couple now peer at each other lovingly before your Uncle rose up to speak, back hunched and breath coming out rugged and wild. Even while his face was covered, it was obvious his health was declining by the second.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past.” His hand reaches up, grasping the gold mask and unclasping it, making you tense up immediately from surprise.

A skull. His skull.

The right side of his face had sunken in and molded to the bones of his face, the eye gone forever like his son’s. It was a horrible sight, but knowing that the man who had to endure it was your darling uncle made your heart ache.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king… but your father. Your brother. Your husband… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you.” The mask is dropped to the table with a loud CLUNK, “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Viserys shrinks back into his seat, being helped by Alicent who assists him in wiping his mouth, Rhaenyra now abruptly standing and holding her cup up. Her foot visibly shook from under the table, “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen.”

The two women looked each other in the eyes, Alicent’s gaze softening a bit at those words before she continued.

“I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.”

She takes a quiet seat, setting her cup down, and Alicent responds.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She stands, ringed hand grasping her cup, “I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

Rhaenyra and Alicent are both smiling to themselves as Alicent finally sits, and oddly enough, Rhaenyra raises her cup once again and looks to you now with a soft gaze, one of a mother.

“I’d also like to announce… Here and now, since Y/N is now my oldest child by law, I want to grant her the title as heir to the Iron Throne after me. A title very deserving of such a smart and beautiful woman, I loved your mother and she’d be very proud of how far you have come.” She raises the cup higher, everyone now doing so except Aegon whom was too busy drowning himself in booze.

“Hear, hear!”

Daemon clasps a proud hand on your shoulder, but your eyes gravitate to Aemond who tilted his cup to you with a smirk before taking a rather large gulp. A sign of respect perhaps?

The positive feelings were always to be interrupted, with Aegon now up and refilling his cup of wine. He was whispering to your sister, not loud enough for you to hear until Jace slammed his fists into the table, seat skittering as he rose quite quickly.

Jace clears his throat, but the tensions didn’t stop rising, Aemond now stood and eyeing up Jacerys, almost mentally telling him to stand down. And instead of attacking Aegon, Jace raised his cup to toast, patting Aegon on the shoulder rather awkwardly.

“To Prince Aegon and… Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.” He takes a swift swig of his wine and gives Aegon another pat on the shoulder for the second time, making the man audibly groan, “To you as well.”

Aemond slowly shuffled back down into his seat and Helaena muttered a phrase under her breath while messing about with a thing in her clutches, “Beware the beast beneath the boards…”

“Well done, my boy.”

Helaena stands a bit off kilter, raising her wine glass, “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

A bit of laughter choruses from the two families and the bright girl takes her seat once again, smiling wider than before. She was definitely your favorite between her and Aegon.

“Let us have some music.”

The prospect of hearing gentle tunes eased the anxiety of being sat at the table, and you visibly relaxed, holding the hand that Rhaenyra had held out to you, tightly. Jacerys stood up and excused himself before offering a hand to Helaena to dance, the girl taking his hand with a faint enthusiasm. Aegon, however, looked offended at that fact, yet the two still jumped around merrily with large smiles on their faces, putting a smile on your face also.

What shocked you was the tap on the shoulder you received, followed by the piercing eye of the man you adored staring down at you.

“Would you care to dance, Princess…?”

You hesitated at first, feeling your father’s eyes barreling into your head, yet your hand found Aemond’s, his fingers gently cusping over yours as he guided you to rise from your seat and stand near your brother and aunt.

One hand stayed clasped in his, the other on his rather broad shoulder as his free hand slid down to greet your waist with a singular touch. He guided the whole waltz, taking the liberty of spinning you and adding flare to the dance, making you giggle and laugh out into the night, all to the displeasure of your father, intensely watching the whole interaction with distaste. Yet, your uncle only watched you two adoringly, seeing himself and Aemma within you and Aemond. A tough man and his adoring wife, a misunderstood boy and the one who understands him the most.

Eventually, the man who held your very heart in his palm guided you back to your seat, kissing your hand ever so kindly before taking his seat, grabbing his chalice to take a hefty gulp of wine. Rhaenyra looked fairly happy, face turned upward and eyes sparkling with child-like wonder that she had lost ages ago. Alicent looked just about the same, smiling at her. It felt… good, and normal, and like home, to be with all the people in your family.

The moment was cut short when Viserys began to groan in pain and Alicent called for the guards to escort him back to his chambers for rest, your father’s face dropping at seeing his brother in pain. Yet, servants came in with various food items as the king was just leaving, a finely cooked pig being set in front of Aemond.

This aroused a laugh out of Lucerys, who was looking Aemond in the eye while openly laughing, the music coming to a stop once Aemond slammed a fist into the wooden table. His thin and wiry fingers curled atop the wine chalice, raising it up.

“Final tribute.”

Discomfort surfaced over every other emotion you felt, and you pleaded with him through desperate eye contact which seemingly egged him on further.

“To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

Alicent almost seems to stiffen, eyeing up her son, while his eyes bounced between his nephews and you. He was going to say it, you knew it, you felt it in your very heart of hearts, so you braced for the outrage.

“Hm… strong.”

“Aemond–”

“Come… let us drain our cups to these three…” Aegon raises his cup, “Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again–”

“Why?” He gazes at Jace, “‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

The two boys strided towards each other quickly and Jace quickly swung a punch towards Aemond, striking him in the face. It sounded like Lucerys was also getting in a squabble, but you were only focused on Aemond being okay and Jace being unscathed.

You quickly rose and went to grab Jace to separate him and Aemond, but Aegon took the moment to let go of Lucerys and throw you into the table with him, causing your sisters to shout loudly and stand up, ready to defend you.

The guards quickly ended the fighting, but not before Aemond shoved Jace down to the ground with a chuckle.

Daemon was quick to help you from the table, holding you with loving arms of a father who cared heavily for his first-born daughter and future heir to the throne after Rhaenyra. Your eyes were on Aemond, who seemed satisfied with the petty squabbles, and even though he wasn’t looking at you, he could feel how hurt you were, like it was raining upon him from the very skies.

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Daemon looks at you with eyes of suspicion due to your lingering stare towards Aemond, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

Jace lunges for Aemond, but you step up, “Wait, wait!”

You hold your arms up to keep distance between Aemond and Jace, everyone's face contorting in confusion. Rhaenyra excuses her sons to go to bed and you keep eye contact with Aemond.

“You went too far–”

“Y/N–”

“You went too far and you know it, Aemond. I thought you… cared for me.. Enough to at least not claim my brothers are bastards.”

His face contorts to one of guilt, looking almost sorry for even causing such trouble. His eyes suddenly look behind you, and you know your father is most likely staring arrows into Aemond.

“Mm..” You hear Daemon behind you, and Aemond shrugs it off, now walking away with haste. Before you could chase after him, Daemon gently grabs our wrist to hold you in place.

“Daughter, do you hold affections for the boy who just insulted your brothers?”

Rhaenyra stared intensely from beside him.

“If I did… then what? Would you have me exiled like you were? Fulfill what everyone thinks, that I am a mini version of you? I just want everyone to get along for once, but it seems there will always be a strain upon both of our families…” You look at Alicent, whom looks visibly happy that you are finally saying something about how you feel. Something she could never do as a young woman due to the men in her life.

“I will love who I want, and if Aemond is the one I choose… then so be it. Disinherit me from the throne, throw my name from our family books, I could care less.”

Before Daemon could speak, you walked past him, sending Rhaenyra an apologetic look with your hands balled into fists. You had to find Aemond.

You would eventually find Aemond within his chambers, clutching his eyepatch in his left hand while staring wearily out of the window to his left. You couldn’t see his lost eye from the angle you were standing at, but you could see his other eye, blue and almost glowing with the light of the night.

“You defend me against your family, yet when I insult them, you barely bat an eye… why?”

His voice is calm, low and tired. He had a point, why did you defend him? Should you have just sided with Rhaenyra and her blood children?

“Aemond…–”

“The connection we felt as young children was fleeting, yet you didn’t partake in beating me to a pulp. Why?”

You took firm steps to get closer to him, but he kept his head tilted just so you couldn’t see the other side of his face. He looked almost scared to be vulnerable with you. Yet, you brought a hand up to his cheek and slowly turned his head to look fully to you, and you stifle a gasp.

A sapphire glowed faintly in the socket where his eye would have been, the blue striking and beautiful. It held a sapphire glare, one that made your heart skip a beat.

He was beautiful, even if his mind told him he was imperfect.

“I’m monstrous, aren’t I?”

“Not in the slightest.”

His face softened significantly at your words and his head leaned down to be against yours, cold yet inviting.

“You always reminded me of sapphires, and I wanted to always keep you in my mind’s eye.”

“Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply-”

Before you could utter a word more, his lips were on yours.

The ocean and the flames, The sapphire and the ruby, together at last.

#xreader #fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond

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chaosfae-writes · 2 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

synopsis; a tender moment away from the chaos.

pairing; Alicent Hightower x brown!Targaryen!reader

a/n; a drabble for my love, mine all mine. requested by a lovely mutual from ao3. fluff for my gay mothers. they deserve it.

It’s a miracle from the Seven that the raven hasn’t been struck dead by the heat of Alicent’s eyes.

A letter has arrived, hailing from Dragonstone. Princess Rhaenyra declares her soon return to King’s Landing—- the note wrinkles under Alicent’s fingers.

It has been two months.

Two months since the incident with Vaemond—- who broods in his self-pity. He's been a sore thumb, he doesn’t quite mesh well in the king’s court. He reeks of the sea, and his insistence of traveling to Driftmark has not ceased.

Rhaenyra, nor Laenor doesn’t have any inkling that Alysanne has been born. Alicent has relished in her selfishness, savoring all her time with Alysanne, and you.

Even in the past days, Vaemond has barely held Alysanne—- Alicent ensured of that. Now the Realm’s Delight is to return and soil Alicent’s life once more.

A dread burdens Alicent’s mind as she tosses the letter in the fire’s pit, watching it smolder to ash within the flames.

Alicent worries. She worries that Rhaenyra will meddle. Snatch Alysanne under the guise of a doting aunt—- and her plain featured sons mingling with Alysanne, Alicent scoffs under her breath.

A sinking sensation caves inside Alicent’s cavity, her footfalls faltering.

Mutely Alicent enters her chambers, moving in the silence as a mouse.

Her quarters are warm, provided heat from the burning hearth. Thankfully, the windows are shielded by the floor-length double curtains—- white and green. A comforting dimness casts upon Alicent. Candles are lit, providing a dew hue.

A spacious chamber, meant for the queen, her only reprieve. In the corner, is a cradle with toys.

Sniffling as her shaky fingers unclip her earrings—- she stops in her tracks.

On her massive bed, there lay three sleeping lumps huddled.

Alicent quietly steps closer to the bed, a small tender smile curls at her lips. Sunk into the massive stitched quilts, pale and sepia arms interlocked—- and tucked in the middle is a small bundle with short tuft of silver, and chubby brown curling fists.

Helaena rests to the left, as you lay asleep on the right of the mattress. Alysanne stretches her small arms, and settles back in her sleep.

Alicent is grateful that you can understand Helaena—- and be her comfort. Helaena is a painfully shy, and odd child, but she is Alicent’s pride and joy.

That Targaryen strangeness, how sweetly you would coddle Helaena as a little duckling. Especially, when Helaena would get fussy, you always calmed her down.

It’s only you that Alicent fully trusts with her children, how you helped her when she didn’t feel any bond with them when they were freshly born.

Eased the burden of motherhood, let her rest when the children got too rambunctious, and she felt the threads of her sanity snapping.

Alicent quietly sits at the edge, her hand finding rest on your hip, caressing you through the embroidered quilt. A sweet sight that calms Alicent, the stresses melting away from her skin.

Alicent’s hand leans to Alysanne’s little chest, feeling her breathing under her palm. Her finger stroking the plump cheek, her small sleepy huffs. Moving to Helaena’s silver head, curling her hair behind the shell of ear.

Alicent’s body yearns to rest, she stands to get up for her vanity.

Alicent tugs on the emerald fabric, undressing and freeing her flesh. The dress falls in a wrinkled bundle by her feet, leaving her in her undergarment sheath.

Walking to her dresser, as she untangles the gold ringlets from her thick waves. One by one, removing the rings on her fingers —- all but one.

The one you gifted her, on that day on Dragonstone. Alicent can still feel the warmth of the sun, and the sweet whispers of shared vows. She twirls the bejeweled ring between her finger tips, a small smile curls.

Bare from jewelry and confining lace, thick waves of curls bounce down to the nape of spine, Alicent’s eyes gaze through her mirror—— catching yours in the reflection.

She hums a giggle. With a grace to her step, Alicent walks to the bed. Curling under the quilt, you gaze at Alicent sleepily. Cuddling Helaena’s little body to her chest, Alicent interlocks her ankles with yours.

You can tell by the way Alicent’s eyes droop that she’s been thinking too hard —- worrying too hard.

Tenderly, your knuckles graze Alicent’s cheek. “What ails you, my dearest?” The pad of your thumb soothes under her eye, cupping her face. Alicent holds your hand in hers, eyes closing with a dejected sigh.

For a split second, you stare at her red cuticles.

“Nothing of importance.” Alicent says, kissing your wrist. “The council’s insistent bickering over the realm.” She swallows.

It pains Alicent not to be honest with you, but your love for your sister has not yet simmered. She intends to keep you away from Rhaenyra as long as she can, hoping that a distance can be reached between your eldest sister and yourself.

Not only for yourself, but for Alysanne’s future.

“As the Princess, I order you to stay,” both of you giggle quietly. “I command the Queen’s presence.”

“Ah, how could I disobey an order?” Alicent jests. A happy toothy smile. A comfortable heat encases you both. Alicent plays with Alysanne’s soft tuft of hair.

“How did they fair the day?” Alicent asks.

“They fell asleep rather quickly,” you say, looking at the girls adoringly. “Helaena was excited to show Alysanne her toy bugs.”

Alicent scrunches her nose, “I prefer the wooden ones, I found one crawling near my dresser.” You suck in your lips, to stifle the laugh that rips in your chest, shaking.

Alicent tuts, “Pray to the Gods, you don’t discover a beetle dancing in your sheets.” She speaks through a laugh, her smile wanton now. Her cheeks glowing.

Small conversations, and a few kisses flowed through the hour. Within the noon, all fell in slumber, hugging in embrace.

#alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower lesbian #wlw #brown reader #chaosfae drabble

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xximpressions · 2 years

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Raging Fire

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

Summary: Your Uncle has betrothed you to the King's brother, and when you meet, you are not at all what he expects.

Word Count: 1,320

A/N: Daemon intrigued me so I felt the need to write this. Depending on the response, I may continue it. We'll see *shrug* Enjoy! 😊 And don't forget to leave a comment below! They're how I'm going to determine if I continue 😘

House of the Dragon Masterlist

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“Lord Corlys, please. See sense.”

Not even bothering to hide his scoff, the Lord in question side-eyed the King before looking ahead as he gruffly responded.

“See sense? Let us be clear, your Highness. I saw sense when I agreed to your marriage with my daughter. It was you who insulted my house after you chose to marry the Hightower girl instead.”

Knowing this was a truth that could not be avoided, King Viserys dropped his eyes to the table. He reclined back into his chair and raised a hand to rub his temple as he gave a deep sigh.

“I can see how my…choices might have been a slight against your family. What can the crown do to make up for its actions?”

Lord Corlys simply glanced back to the King in order to gauge the sincerity of his offer.

Upon seeing the man look back at him in earnest, the renowned sailor put a hand to his chin in thought.

After taking a moment to contemplate what to ask for, Lord Corlys began to speak.

“Your brother’s marriage recently came to an end, did it not?”

Not seeing where he was going with this, Viserys hesitatingly replied.

“Yes, it ended with the death of his wife, Lady Royce.”

With that confirmation, a small sly smile joined the expression on the Sea Snake’s face.

“Excellent. Then I have the perfect match in mind.”

However, before he could continue speaking, the King interjected.

“Now hold on a moment. Are you suggesting we betroth your daughter to my brother?”

As Viserys thought about such a union, he could not see it being very successful with Laena at such a young age in comparison to Daemon.

Chuckling lightly, Lord Corlys waved off such an idea.

“Not at all. What I am proposing is a marriage between your brother and my niece since it is high time she was settled.”

As Viserys allowed his surprise to show, the other man continued.

“Prince Daemon showed great strength and character while we fought together in the Stepstones. I can think of no one better to take the hand of my niece.”

As the King’s surprise turned into confusion, he asked,

“But who is your niece? For I have surely never heard of her.”

“That is because she has been absent from court in order to follow in the footsteps of her Uncle.”

Still confused, his Majesty gestured for the Lord to continue his explanation.

“Her parents were lost to us when she was at a young age and has been living with my family and I ever since. As a high-born dragonrider, she is a woman that holds more power than most.”

The Lord said with a reflective look in his eyes,

“Being the sole heir to her family’s estate, as well as Commander of my fleet in my absence, she has a raging fire burning in her that could only possibly be tamed by a dragon. I believe your brother can be that dragon.”

Caught up on one particular aspect of his explanation, the King incredulously said,

“Your niece is in charge of your fleet?”

Lord Corlys’ smirk was proud as he responded,

“Yes, she has a strategist’s mind, so I rely on her counsel often. It only makes sense that she is the one to lead them when I cannot.”

As Viserys thought on all that had been told to him, he found himself eventually nodding in acquiescence.

“Very well. We shall betroth them to one another so that there may be peace between our two houses."

Pleased, Lord Corlys nodded as he stood from the table and said,

“Then I shall inform my niece of her impending nuptials.”

“The girl is here?” asked the King.

“She arrives in a fortnight, but I will write to her today.”

Lord Corlys replied before giving his thanks, bowing, and exiting the room.

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

The cool feel of the crisp wind whipped about you viciously.

But as you flew through the air on the back of your beloved dragon, it was like you did not even feel the cold.

All you ever felt when you were up this high, was free.

After flying a few circles around the city to enjoy such a feeling a bit longer, you began your descent.

As you neared the Red Keep, you could see a small group of people gathered near the landing area.

Once your dragon touched ground, you took your time in dismounting from your saddle.

After your feet were on solid rock, you turned to make your way to what looked like a welcoming party.

As you approached, it was Lord Corlys who stepped forward to greet you with his arms held out.

“Ah, my beautiful niece. Welcome to King’s Landing.”

Having not seen him in a few months, your smile was bright as you made your way into his paternal embrace.

“Uncle!” You exclaimed with obvious joy before pulling away. He took both of your hands in his as you said, “It gladdens my heart to see you once again.”

The smile on his face was affectionate as he took a step back in order to take you in.

“I am grateful to see you as well. Even if it is not in proper court attire.” He finished with a teasing note.

Looking down to see the leather trousers and tunic you were clothed in, you could not help smirking as you looked back to his eyes and replied,

“Well, one cannot properly ride a dragon if they are dressed in proper attire, can they Uncle?”

His sigh was fond when he said,

“No, I suppose they cannot.”

After you both shared one last smile, you each turned toward the rest of the welcoming party who had been watching your interaction.

“My King, may I present my Lady niece, Commander of my fleet, and heir to High Tide.”

With a bow of your head, you said,

“Your Majesty, you and your family honor me with your presence.”

You then made sure to smile at him, his young wife, his heir, and his brother. Though, your eyes lingered when they landed on the Prince.

You held each other’s gaze for a moment before he began to speak.

But it was only after he finished asking his question that you realized he was not talking to you.

“Does she even speak High Valyrian?”

He had looked toward his brother as he spoke in the tongue he was inquiring about, so he did not see your smile grow wider at his condescending tone.

It was only when you said,

“She does. Though if you wanted to know, you could have asked her yourself.”

That the man known as the Rogue Prince glanced back to you with poorly concealed surprise.

Smirking to yourself, you forgot about the rest of your audience as you took a few steps in his direction until you were standing directly across from him.

In the Common Tongue, you simply said,

“I presume you are my betrothed.”

The prince merely clasped his hands behind his back before giving a single nod to your question.

With a hum, you continued talking.

“Then allow me to give you a word of warning: I have been underestimated my whole life. I caution you against making the same mistake.”

And allowed the kind smile to remain on your face, before turning back to the rest of the party.

“Now, it has been a long journey. Might I be shown where I will be staying?”

Sensing the tension growing between you and Daemon as he continued to openly stare at you after you dismissed him without a backward glance, the Queen was quick to say,

“Of course.”

Before leading you inside.

And as you followed after her, you could not stop the pleased smile from growing on your lips as you felt the stare of your future husband burning into your back.

#daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targeryan #hotd #daemon targaryen x black!reader

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writingsofwesteros · 7 months

Note

Okay, but hear me out, pal: may I request a Hightower between the waves au.. AU? For kinktober? (Which I can't wait to see what you do for kinktober, I love your writing for both team green and team black peeps.) like vampire!rhaenys, vampire!corlys, human!alicent? You know she would be so shy to admit, in the beginning, how erotic it is to let them feed and drink her blood during sex. It's like the highest of euphoric highs.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

Alicent wondered if her two lovers noticed. Did her heart beat more quickly in those moments even as she fought to hide such reactions? Or did they just pretend to keep her cheeks from blushing that pretty colour they adored? It was hard for Alicent to keep any thoughts in her mind as the usual haze from pleasure washed over her.

Those big, brown eyes of hers rolled back; her toes curling in pleasure as the soft whines easily escaped her. Alicent’s delicate hands reached for the bright locks of Rhaenys who was in between her thighs and feasting. “Rhaenys….” Alicent’s head fell back as her body arched against her; chasing the release being teased.

The creature before her only chuckled; the sound echoing in the room as Alicent finally collapsed back on the blood red, silk sheets that wrapped around her. Her soft, bare body was completely on display as her legs wrapped around Rhaenys’ head. Rhaenys only hummed against her soaked, creamy pussy and the vibrations had her stomach tightening in anticipation.

Her tongue slowly circled Alicent’s sweet clit with patience and practice that had come from knowing her lover’s body. Those sharp eyes of Rhaenys looking up; watching as Alicent began to lose herself in the pleasure she was giving out. It was always such a delicious sight, Rhaenys thought to herself as she sucked on Alicent’s clit some more.

Alicent could only cry out; eyes watering as her wetness was dripping with ease. It only made Rhaenys’ hunger grow as her own delicate hand reached up Alicent’s soft body. Her hand palms those perky, bouncing breasts. “Hmm, good girl…” Rhaenys purred; kitten licking her clit as her thumb teased those pink, pebbled nipples.

“I see you have started without me…” The deep, shivering inducing voice of the lord of the seas himself had Alicent whining. Her head lolled to the side as her breathing picked up; her heart pounding in her ears now as those legs around Rhaenys began to shake. It was at that moment Rhaenys pushed two of her slender fingers into her creamy, welcoming pussy.

Corlys only hummed as his dark eyes trailed over the view in front of him. Goosebumps came over Alicent’s soft skin as she arched from the bed once more. Her hands reached for anything to hold onto. The hunger in their eyes had Alicent shivering as her climax ripped through her without warning. Her wetness squirting around Rhaenys’ fingers as she feasted.

Alicent hardly reacted as Corlys was by her side in less than a second. His larger hands began to roam over her soft body whilst her pleasure only continued. Rhaenys gave her no rest and she was soon thrashing around like a woman possessed. Corlys’ dark chuckles echoing in her ear as he leaned closer. His mouth watering scent washes over her.

“Gods, you smell good.” Corlys purred; his eyes darkened even more as the fangs that had Alicent clamping down on Rhaenys fingers came into view. A soft blush came over Alicent’s cheek as he gently cupped her face in a loving manner. His thumb brushed over her plump bottom lip as they softly parted for him.

“You should feel how tight she gets.” Rhaenys purred and Alicent’s blush could only deepen as she whimpered out. Rhaenys’ palm began to hit against her clit again and again as she pushed in a third finger. Her thumb teasing her clit as Corlys leaned in and passionately captured Alicent’s soft lips. His tongue brushing her bottom lip; asking for entry.

Alicent eagerly gave in; her delicate hand reaching into his locks and bringing him impossibly closer. Their tongues began to battle but Corlys’ dominance was soon in hand. Those doe eyes of hers rolled back as the fingers stuffed inside her curled and pushed against her soft, spongy spot again and again. The pleasure only drives her wild.

Alicent’s head falls to the side once more; an invite for Corlys to take even more than just a kiss. The act caught both their attention as he chuckled. Her wetness only coated Rhaenys’ fingers as she began to rock against them. “Oh, how far you’ve come.” Corlys purred as he sloppily kissed down her sweet scented neck.

The soft pain of his teeth had Alicent whining; body arching once more as Rhaenys leaned over her sweet body. A soft gulp escaped her as she felt Rhaenys’ body and for a moment they locked eyes. Rhaenys’ licked up Alicent’s body as her fingers only increased their speed. Alicent’s body arched and thrashed as if to hide from the intense pleasure coming her way.

The act only had the two vampires chuckling. Alicent was far too gone to react with her usual blush as mewls of pleasure escaped her instead. The wet, obscene noises escaping her creamy pussy echoed around the room before her own cries joined in. As her eyes had rolled; Rhaenys and Corlys had leaned in and feasted.

Their bites were enough to push Alicent over the edge once more; her second orgasm easily building with Rhaenys’ expert touches. Their moans echoed in her ears as she whined and wiggled underneath their strong hold. “Oh, gods…I-ah…” Alicent whimpered and clung to the sheets again as her body thrashed once more.

Corlys hummed as his bite deepened. His desire to mark his precious human overwhelmed anything else. She was just too delicious, he thought to himself as his larger hand reached for her soft, ample breast and began to palm. Alicent knew she would have bruises in the morning but at that moment she hardly cared as she squirted around Rhaenys’ fingers.

Her mind continued to soften with ease as she laid under them. Rhaenys’ soft lips were soon capturing hers once more. “I do remember when you were so shy.” She purred; taunting Alicent with amusement in her tone. Corlys chuckle was further away now and Alicent moved her head but the hold of Rhaenys kept her from doing so.

“Hmm, you know I like watching you.” Rhaenys purred as a sharp gasp escaped Alicent. A pleasured grunt escaped her as her sweet, creamy pussy spread around Corlys’ fat cock. “Hmm, there you go…that’s what you wanted.” Alicent could hardly hear her words as she whined; tears of overstimulation falling down her cheeks now.

“Fuck, so warm…” Corlys purred as he looked down at the erotic sight greeting him. A ring of cream already forming around his thick length. “Good girl…” His praises whispered into her ear as his thumb began to drum against her clit. Alicent could only gasp out; eyes so wide as her body twitched with every touch.

His larger hand moved over her stomach now and pressed down. Corlys began to rock his hips as he slowly bottomed inside Alicent who clung to Rhaenys. The vampiress beside her whispered sweet nothings before leaning in once more and biting down her own mark. Alicent cried their names like a prayer.

Corlys leaned over her body; pressing his weight as her warmth engulfed him. He locked eyes with his wife of centuries and the love flowed between them. Oh, how much more could he want from life at that moment, he thought to himself. His thrusts were only becoming deeper and and quick. Alicent’s legs were soon pushed nearly past her head in his eagerness.

His fat cock slipped deeper and nearly took Alicent’s breath away. Her oversensitive body had her whimpering out as she clumsily reached for him, much to Corlys’ amusement. “Oh how far you’ve come.” He purred as Rhaenys lapped at her neck causing shivers to run down her body as she gave herself completely to them.

#kinktober #hightower between the waves #alicent hightower x rhaenys velaryon #alicent hightower x corlys velaryon #request

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undertheorangetree · 8 months

Text

Under the God's Eye

Chapter Five- The Dinner

Summary- A family dinner results in an unexpected rendezvous.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Titty sucking. Handjob. Vaginal fingering. Cunnilingus. Smut. Alcohol consumption. Allusions to drug abuse. Severe daddy issues. My bitter and intense hatred for Viserys Targaryen coming through in my writing. Discussions of bad childhood/neglectful parenting.

Author's Note- okay I’m done teasing now. Shout out to modern AUs for letting me use modern terms in smut without it sounding weird to me. Find the rest of this filth on AO3 link below!

Series masterlist

divider by firefly-graphics

She watches mildly distraught as Alicent flutters around the kitchen, murmuring to herself as she sets pots and pans on the stovetop, pulling out an absurd amounts of ingredients from the fridge.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" she asks for what she thinks is the fourth time, hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Alicent looks up at her, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face with a tired smile. "I'm sure, sweetheart. Don't worry, Rhaenyra should be here within the hour to help me. You're on vacation, go and do something fun. I can handle it."

"I don't mind helping, really. Even if it's only until Rhaenyra gets here."

That earns her nothing but another thankful smile and a shake of her head before Alicent is ignoring her completely, mumbling about where she has left her biggest bowl. A part of her is worried that she's annoying Alicent but she still can't stop herself from asking. She looks frazzled, so much so that it is clear that she is not used to working in the kitchen like this. With her hair tangled in a messy red bun on the top of her head, she has a hard time imagining the Targaryen-Hightower household as a place known for nuclear family dinners. Not with the way Alicent seems absolutely wrought with anxiety.

"Oh, my love," Alicent calls out suddenly and she turns to find Helaena pausing on her way to the stairwell, an expensive looking Russian Blue cradled in her arms. Dreamfyre, she had learned the cat's name was, though she has only ever seen her in pictures on Helaena's phone. She is a reclusive little thing, spending most of her days basking in the sunlight in quieter rooms. Alicent waves Helaena over before jerking her head in her direction. "Take our dear friend here and tell her to enjoy being a guest. She's trying to be too helpful for a holiday."

Helaena huffs a laugh, adjusting her grip on her cat before holding her hand out to her, fingers grabbing at air like a child. "Come on then."

She's pulled out of the kitchen unceremoniously, obediently following behind Helaena, though she can't help but look back at Alicent once more, still feeling guilty.

"I don't know why she doesn't just bring some of the staff with her," Helaena laments as they begin climbing the stairs, still hand in hand. "She insists that she doesn't need them on holiday, but then she plans some big dinner like this and all it does is stress her out."

Out of all of Alicent's children, Helaena is the one she can most see herself befriending. The sweetest, the most down to earth, less obvious when it comes to her family's massive wealth. But it is moments like this where the blatant difference between them is abundantly clear. Her home had never had so much as a maid, much less a whole host of staff. She can do nothing but nod dumbly, agreeing with her as they make their way to the second floor.

"You lost this," Helaena says as she opens Aemond's door, smiling at them both and looking incredibly pleased with her own joke.

"You're so funny," Aemond says, voice completely deadpan, not so much as looking up from the book he has open on his desk. She doesn't have to look at the cover to know it's a textbook as her own copy is still sitting on her bedside table in her apartment.

She grins. "I know."

Helaena leaves and she has no choice but to make herself comfortable on their now shared bed, propping the pillows up against the headboard and sitting back against them. Aemond continues reading and she takes the opportunity to really look at him, uninterrupted by his own piercing gaze. The long sharp planes of his face, the strong jut of his nose, the line of his cheekbones. The ever present tilt of his lips, as if there is some secret or joke he’s struggling to hide. Even from here, she can see the way his eyelashes curl against his eyelids, the light blonde of them near translucent. His hair is the same almost silver blond and, fleetingly, she wonders how much effort he truly puts into it. She has heard the sound of the hairdryer when he locks himself in the bathroom but has never seen any of the products he may or may not be using. Nor has she ever been permitted to enter, the door locked tight since their post shower run in.

But it's his eye that truly catches her attention. She's sat on his sighted side and she can see the brilliant blue of his real eye even from there, admiring the way it catches the afternoon light. Only the dilation of his pupil sets it apart from the prosthetic and she realizes now how pretty they are when he’s not glaring at her or attempting to stare her into submission.

She nearly jumps when he speaks, pulling her harshly out of her thoughts. "You'll meet my father tonight. And Daemon."

Read the rest here

Taglist- @backyardfolklore @docmartinis @watercolorskyy @barbieaemond @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @aemondsbabygirl @randomdragonfires @at-a-rax-ia @violetletovi @launotfound @helaenaluvr @solisarium

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #aemond smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut

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green-ajah-aes-sedai · 1 year

Text

Aemond Velaryon

A Hightower Between the Waves AU

Inspired by @writingsofwesteros

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months

Text

A Perfect Score - Chapter 2 - Sub-Zero | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: You move in to the Targaryen home and begin training with Aemond | Word Count: 7.3k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: Aemond being a general cock, sexism, classism, sexual tension 😘, swearing

A/N: I want to apologise for the long chapter, but I don't think I will 😙

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

You want to say that the hardest part of moving away was the packing, but that wouldn’t quite be true.

The hardest part was looking out the car window and seeing Ellyn on the side of the road, waving you off with both hands, looking significantly more excited about the prospect than you were. You laughed at her enthusiasm and waved back, not wanting to admit that you were misty-eyed as the car had pulled away from your flat.

Everything you could stuff inside a suitcase had been shoved into the back of the car, and Rhaenys, despite how she may appear, was stronger than she looked and managed to haul it all into the boot. She was meeting with Baela and Rhaena that evening, renewing their contracts, so she couldn’t see you off either, which meant sitting in the back of the car the Targaryens had sent for you alone. To ponder in your thoughts, your thumb between your teeth, chewing at the nail nervously.

The entire ride to their home, you wondered if you’d done the right thing. After you had decided to go ahead with it, your phone exploded with an onslaught of text messages, some from good friends and some from people who had risen from the dead and hadn’t spoken to you in years. Perhaps trying to get in on some of the success that had managed to sweep your way.

The driver doesn’t make conversation the entire way there, at least until he pulls up to the electric gates that close off the long road up to the property.

“There is no need to be nervous,” he says, making you meet his deep brown eyes in the rear-view mirror. He wears a grey suit, with a cream-white undershirt beneath it. He has such dark hair and eyes, he could only be Dornish.

You force a reassuring smile to your face, trying to be convincing.

“Ms Hightower is very accommodating”

You cock your head, “Not Mrs Targaryen?”

His eyes meet yours again once the gate is completely open, revving the engine, “No” he simply replies, and you’re not able to see the rest of his face when he says it, but it must be stoic from the tone of his voice.

You watch as you lean over to the middle of the backseat as he advances down the long driveway, the house most obscured by trees until he gets closer. And when he does, the sight is quite something. Your mouth hangs slightly open as you gaze over the ivy-covered house, with several floors and historic windows. It is truly a sight to behold.

You’d laughed at Jace when he said it was their ancestral home, but now looking at it, you completely believe him. Who wouldn’t want to pass this beautiful home down to their children? You’re surprised actually that they’re allowing you to stay here for the duration of your contract and can’t help but wonder…if they usually do that.

Your look of awe continues even as the brown haired man helps you out of the car, closing the door behind you.

It’s all so grand, you sort of feel out of place in sweatpants, a jumper and trainers, a feeling that’s exacerbated as you step into the foyer of their home, your backpack heavy on your shoulders.

“Thank you…?” you smile politely at the brown-haired man as he brings your suitcase inside.

“Criston Cole” he nods, a smile never making its way on his face the entire time you’ve spoken to him, “I’ll take these to your room”

You’re not sure how he manages both the suitcase as well as the backpack you previously had, but he trudges them up the winding grand staircase anyway.

The foyer is clean, with a few pillars decorating the sides and large portraits adorned by golden frames embellished on the walls There’s several portraits of people you don’t recognise at all, all with that familiar platinum hair and pale eyes. The first is a woman, perhaps early twenties, who looks an awful lot like Helaena when you saw her at the schmoozing event, except this woman has sharper eyes and a stronger jawline, whereas Helaena has soft, kind eyes.

Your trainers squeak against the waxed floor as you pace to the next, the one you recognise as Viserys Targaryen, the famous Olympic judge, ousted from his position. He died several years ago. Alzheimer's. Something curls in your gut at the thought of the family dynamic, you could see him being a harsh father. The portrait right beside it is none other than the Sweetheart of Oldtown herself, Alicent Hightower. It’s clearly a recent-ish portrait, with age her lips had turned down into a frown, and the youthful innocence you had seen her have on TV had dulled somewhat into a motherly gaze. She still looked beautiful though, and you can’t help but feel sorry for the fact that her youthful carefree nature had been stripped from her much too soon.

And then there was the last portrait at the end. There were four little platinum heads, all of varying ages, but mostly all of them teenagers or less. Clearly the two stood were Aegon and Helaena, looking the closest together in age, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen in this particular painting, and all looking away from the observer. Seated on the floor, was another pale-haired child you don’t recognise at all, a book nestled in his lap. And then there’s the last, leaning against a chair, looking only around eleven or twelve. You have to admit, at first you don’t recognise him without the scar. But it must be him. Aemond.

He almost looks sad. All of them do.

“There you are” a pleasant, soft voice rolls through the foyer, stealing your attention from the portraits. It takes you a moment, but the auburn curls give it away. Alicent Hightower.

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

She approaches with a warm smile, immediately enveloping you in a motherly hug.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too long” she says with her arms on yours, her cosy brown eyes crinkling up with her smile.

“Oh no, it was fine, thank you”

“Did Ser Criston give you an earful?” she teases, laughing when she sees your panicked face, “I’m only joking. Ser Criston isn’t one for conversation”

So I see.

“Admiring the portraits?” she smiles, joining at your side to glance up at the portrait of the four pale-haired children.

You hum and nod, “Although, I don’t recognise him?” you point to the youngest.

“Ah, that’s Daeron, my youngest boy. He is in Oldtown at the moment training for his first championships. We will probably cross paths with him at some point when we go on our tour”

“Oh right” you reply. They all look so similar in this photo, when they were younger, “I almost didn’t recognise Aemond”

Alicent visibly stiffens, biting her lower lip only slightly, “I don’t blame you, child. He did look quite different before the accident. But the personality remains”

The accident?

You look at her, admiring the way her eyes glimmer seeing her children so young again, “Has he always…?”

She meets your eyes, an amused smile only half held back, “been difficult?”

You swallow anxiously, not wanting to offend. But it’s somewhat lifted when Alicent laughs breathily, “He was half Aegon’s size, but twice as fierce” she muses, “But now he towers over all of us, with the personality to match”

You bite your lip, “I can hardly wait to see them all skate, Mrs-”

“Alicent, please just call me Alicent” she smiles, turning towards the stairs “Now come, I’ll take you to your room. Ser Criston should have all your things in there. Are you hungry?”

You can’t help but smile the entire time you’ve spent in Alicent’s presence. For someone who was in the limelight and barraged by paparazzi all those years ago, she is surprisingly lovely. She takes you up to your new room, which, to be honest, renders you speechless for a long moment. It’s a lot bigger than any room you’ve had before, maybe even bigger than the entirety of the flat you shared with Ellyn. It has tall period-style windows, the colour neutral and cosy and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t ready to jump into that Queen sized bed right now.

She quickly points out the rest of her children’s rooms a bit further down the hall, noting that Aemond’s room is across the hall to yours, but with the doors not directly in front of each other. A fact that gives you a little relief.

The kitchen is no different from the rest of the house, bright, airy and spotless.

At the breakfast table sits a woman you recognise as Helaena, her long wavy hair in a loose plait down her back. She’s flicking through a magazine twirling a spoon in her hand as she casually eats a snack, but her head flits up right into a smile once she hears footsteps and sees you.

Alicent smiles, “This is my daughter, Helaena”

She rounds the kitchen counter, and she either ignores your outstretched hand or doesn’t see it, but the air is knocked out of you when she pulls you into a hug that surprises you with its intensity.

She pulls away, a soft smile on her face, “It is so good to meet you!” she beams, “It’ll be nice to have someone else to skate with”

“Aw, thank you. I can’t wait to work with all of you”

Alicent smiles at the interaction, “Helaena does Pairs with Aegon”

And just like that, all the air seems to be sucked out of the room. Helaena’s expression falters and she briefly looks at her mother, exasperated, and then back at you, but now with a forced smile.

“Have you seen the ice rink yet?”

“Uh…no, I just got here really”

“Come on” she says excitedly, taking one of your hands, “I’ll take you”

You give a quick wave to Alicent who stands by in the kitchen, an unreadable look on her face as she watches her daughter pull you along. You weren’t sure what you were expecting in regards to family dynamics within a figure skating family, but it’s all becoming clearer by the second.

Once out of earshot, Helaena huffs, “I wish she wouldn’t say that as if it’s my whole personality”

She leans down to pull her trainers on, leading you out of the back door to their vast gardens. As expected, all mown and perfectly green.

You’re unsure if you should ask given that you only really just met, but you can’t help yourself, “I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no it’s not that, you didn’t say anything wrong” she interjects, crossing the gardens to the back of the property, across the cobblestoned path and swinging open the gates, “It’s just always business with Mum, it gets annoying that’s all”

You nod, “I can understand that”

“Are you parents the same?”

You shake your head, “No, the opposite actually. But still…I get it. I'm sorry about your Dad by the way”

She pulls a face, "Don't be. Poor thing was suffering for far too long". When she responds like that, you kind of regret ever asking. It doesn't sound like they were close, or at least Helaena anyway. You wonder if it's any different with the boys.

You smile reassuringly at her, and she gives you one in understanding back, not pressing any further.

Behind the back of the property, largely obstructed by trees, is a building, looking very much like a sort of sports hall.

“Is all this yours?”

Helaena nods, pushing the door to let you inside, “Yep! It’s all private, so this is where we’ll be practising. Grandfather’s weird about us using public ice rinks”

You can’t find it in yourself to reply when you see the inside. For a private rink, it’s absolutely huge. Seems almost a waste for it to be only used by four people regularly.

“The gym is that way” Helaena points, “Aemond is usually there all morning. Me and Aeg prefer to sleep in a bit more”

At the mention of Aemond, your mood somewhat sours. Ever since first meeting him all those weeks ago at the schmoozing event, you can still see the self-assured, twatty look on his face.

I’m not sure you can handle it.

You’ll be eaten alive.

Irritation and, you hate it, but also self-consciousness eats at your insides at what he’d said. The idea of having to see him everyday. Work with him. It sends dread working its way through your veins, anger burrowing its way inside. Gods, he was such a dick.

“I know that look” Helaena smirks,

“What?”

“It’s the look Floris Baratheon had when she met Aemond for the first time”

You raise an eyebrow, “A common feeling then”

Helaena pulls a face, her lips forming a line, “He’s not really a people person”

“And I’m supposed to do Pairs with him”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better I am literally doing Pairs with my asshat of a brother”

You smile, “At least he’s your brother”

Helaena produces a box from a locker, looking excited, “This came for you from Rhaenys”

You keep forgetting that technically, Helaena and her family are related to Rhaenys in some way, so they knew of her already, being Viserys’ cousin.

She hands the box to you like it’s precious, and it definitely looks like it. It’s white with a ribbon tied around the middle. The note that’s nestled between it reads, ‘Good luck out there. R x’.

Excitedly, you pull off the knot, Helaena and you gasping in breathy unison when you see the most gorgeous pair of skates you’ve ever seen nestled inside. They’re just so brand new and shiny, that it almost seems a waste to use them for yourself. But nonetheless, you reach inside and adore their bright white leather fabric, smiling at the kindness of the gesture from your manager since they must have cost a small fortune.

“Gods, they’re gorgeous” Helaena beams, “Shall I go and get mine and we’ll skate?”

You nod excitedly, hardly wasting time and pulling off your trainers, eager to get back on the ice again.

You’re out on the rink before Helaena, the new skates slicing through the top layer of ice in such a satisfying way it tickles something comforting in your brain. Pushing off to go faster, you do several laps, leaning down to feel the sensation of the cold on your fingertips. Being out on the ice like this, outside the realm of competitions, it reminds you of why you love it. Feeling like you’re flying, gliding so effortlessly like you could be swimming through air, and the soft feeling of the air conditioning through your hair.

Helaena joins after a moment, with pale cream skates, and though you are both in the same industry it does strike you how different your styles are. Hers are precise, calculated, whereas yours, while you do have to judge your moves before you do them, it’s clearly not as well thought out. You chop it up to, realistically, her being from a figure skating family.

She even puts some music on, the tunes boosted through the speakers at either side of the rink. And after some time, showing one another your favourite moves, as well as the moves you don’t like so much, after saying you love how the two-foot spin looks, she rests her hands on her hips, insisting you show her.

So you do. And it’s such a nice atmosphere, that you don’t hold back. You do it as quickly as you can humanly do, making sure to do as Rhaenys instructed so you don’t get too dizzy. Finishing with an exit push with your arms stretched out.

“Floris couldn’t do that without going cross-eyed!”

You both gasp as the double doors slam shut, revealing a wide-grinned Aegon leaning lazily against the side of the rink.

“Bet you can’t do double lutz” Aegon smirks,

“Double lutz is for babies”

“Okay, triple then”

You roll your eyes, “I’ll need to gather some speed first”

Aegon chuckles, “It sounds like you’re making excuses”

Your gaze flits to the other blonde who has just walked in, who is so preoccupied looking down at the floor and pulling his hair into a loose bun that he hasn’t realised you’ve seen him.

Aemond.

You take Aegon’s challenge and push off on your skates, doing a few laps around the rink to gather the speed you need. The lutz, at least the double, is child’s play, and you’re pretty sure you could do that with your eyes shut. The triple requires an extraordinary amount of balance, practice and judgement. Not only the actual move itself, but the dismount needs to be smooth.

The only sound in the room right now is the low volume of whatever music Helaena had put on, and the crunching and cutting of the ice beneath your blades. Approaching backwards, you push off into the air, pulling your arms in for the spin, and dismount, arms outstretched for balance.

You’ll never get tired of that feeling. Ever.

Taking a steady breath, you ride the speed all the way to the edge of the rink, looking up at the two Targaryen brothers as you do. Aegon still has a lazy smile on his face while he mutters something quietly to Aemond, who in turn, doesn’t appear to be listening. Instead his gaze, stoic and borderline unreadable, is trained entirely on you.

He looks pissed. For what reason? You’ve no idea.

You don’t even attempt to hide the smirk on your face.

Aegon nudges his shoulder and it seems that sets him off, and Aemond hurriedly leaves before you get a chance to pull your trainers back on and make your way over. You feel your heart going fast in victory, adrenaline pumping through your veins at showing him that you’re not just an empty-headed girl with no real talent.

You would show him what you’re made of. Starting today.

Helaena furrows her brows, “What’s wrong with him?”

“What’s not wrong with him?” Aegon counters, watching as Aemond makes his way back to the house, “He’s always got a stick up his arse. Maybe that’s why he’s so tall”

As you all laugh your way back to the house for dinner, you see Aemond through the glass doors, leaning over the kitchen counter, looking less than enthused at a conversation he’s having with his mother, pinching the bridge of his nose at the same time.

He doesn't look up when the glass doors open.

"Mother, that smells divine" Aegon shouts obnoxiously loud, waltzing into the kitchen.

Helaena slaps the back of his head, "She didn't make dinner, dumbass"

"Stop it, you two and just sit down for dinner please" Alicent breathes, closing her eyes as if the mere presence of her two children has given her a migraine.

The two eldest Targaryens continue to bicker, the sound of them slapping each other harmlessly echoes through to the dining room. Before joining them, you meet Aemond's cold gaze.

He's still hunched over the counter, one finger rapping on the marble in barely-contained annoyance, even the muscle of his jaw twitches. Every bit of him is rigid, seething with anger or irritation. For a moment, his icy glare seems to pierce right through you, setting every hair on edge, like being caught in the headlights in the dark.

He can be a dick and devastatingly handsome at the same time. Right?

He doesn't say a thing and watches as you walk away to the dining room, his gaze following your movements. Alicent says something in a hushed manner to him, but you're too far away to hear it.

You take a seat next to Helaena at the end of the table as the food is all bought out. From this angle you see Otto Hightower arrive in the kitchen, sporting rather posh clothing once again, greeting his daughter with a kiss on the cheek, and barely greeting Aemond at all, simply nodding in his direction. They act more like colleagues passing each other, rather than family.

Gods, the dynamics just get weirder.

"Ah, you've arrived. I hope you are settling in well" Otto says as he enters the dining room. You stand from your chair, shaking his hand, seeing Aemond take his seat opposite Helaena.

"Thank you, yes, Helaena has been showing me the ice rink"

"She did a triple lutz" Helaena beams at her grandfather. This dynamic surprises you the most, as Otto manages a genuine smile at his only granddaughter.

Aegon has managed to shove food into his mouth already, earning a half-hearted slap off Alicent, "Triple axel next" he grins at you.

"Deal" you smirk, not missing the way Aemond sighs, subtly rolling his eye and turning away.

Otto sits beside Aemond, while Alicent takes up her presumably regular seat at the head, making you feel quite lonesome on your end, with a spare seat beside you and an empty one in front. Being sat within eyesight of Aemond no less.

The food is placed on the table, and then the staff pours some wine for everyone in attendance and takes their spots in the room, making it feel so much more formal than a simple dinner. It feels like a job interview, where you have to be careful about every little thing you say. Except the job interviewer is staring right at you, and you know that if they start writing something down, you’ve fucked up.

"Prayer before we begin"

You watch in semi-awkwardness as every member of the family sits in silence while Alicent does her prayer, her golden ring clad fingers intertwined on the table in front of her. Out of respect, despite not being so devout, you clasp your hands together, not quite able to bring yourself to close your eyes.

Aegon luckily sighs right afterwards, bending over the table to dish himself some food before passing it to Helaena, breaking the silence in the room.

After a moment, Alicent speaks, stabbing some salad with her fork, "So, my darling, how did you get into figure skating?" She asks you, seeming genuinely interested.

Willing the warmth at your cheeks to not give away how caught off guard and stared at you feel, you splutter a reply after taking a hesitant sip of wine, "Um, well, some of my family were - involved in skating"

She nods, "Oh I see. From what house?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Ah - of no notable family, I'm afraid"

The silence is deafening. And you swear you’ve never felt smaller in your life.

"I'm terribly sorry, do forgive me" Alicent immediately apologised, but you shake your head, looking down at your plate, stabbing a new potato and plopping it into your mouth.

"It's fine, really"

For a few moments, all that can be heard is the sound of cutlery scraping against the plates, which for some reason feels even louder in the grand expanse of the dining room. Aemond is eating slowly on purpose, spending a large portion of the meal with his good eye traced in your direction, and try as you might, it burns to be under his gaze for a long time.

"I understand you are close with Floris' sister, Ellyn I believe?" Alicent continues. It's nice that she's trying to make some effort in conversation, where everyone else feels too awkward to.

You nod, "Yes, we were flatmates"

"And how is Floris?"

"Doing well, I've been told. She'll need some months to recover entirely though"

Aegon scoffs, "She did do a number on it. Saw the whole thing happen, dozy bitc-ow!", Helaena slaps his arm in reprimand.

Alicent glares at her two eldest before turning back to you, "I am happy to hear Floris is doing well. I can't say how happy we are to have you with us" she smiles.

Aemond makes the only sound you've heard him make all day.

He laughs. A half-hearted chuff, coupled smug smile.

Your eyes narrow on him.

"Something funny?" You ask. His amused face turns to meet yours, his fork clattering on his plate. He leans back in his seat, legs stretched under the table, invading the space around him.

"No. Nothing"

"You laughed"

"No, it's just-"

"Just what"

At your lowered tone, his eye really does meet yours. His expression of amusement falters just for a second, before pressing his lips together, the muscle in his jaw tightening.

"Just be interesting to see how you handle it. It's a lot of pressure" he hums, "might be difficult, for someone of your background"

You bite your lip. The words echo once again, making your grip tighten on your fork. His voice is so patronising, you want to climb over the table and slap his stupid nepo-baby fucking face. Otto visibly bristles next to him, trying to appear as if he isn’t hearing a word.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Thanks for your concern" you reply flatly.

"Floris couldn't handle it"

"Well, it's a good job my name isn't fucking Floris isn't it"

Silence.

You and Aemond stare at each other like it's a competition. He bites his lip, as if wondering what to say next, his pupil dilated so wide you can barely see the blue there. The expression he wears is difficult to decipher, but eventually he yields, his eye flicking down to his plate.

Fuck this.

You stand up, looking at Alicent, trying to calm your breathing, "May I be excused, I'm just tired from travelling"

Alicent nods quickly, wanting to dispel the tension, "Of course, my darling"

You don't need to be told twice, you shift past Helaena and Aegon, right into the hallway, feeling the hot frustration behind your eyes. And all you hear is Aegon mutter, 'nice one, bro' before you're out of earshot.

With your blood roaring in your ears with rage, you barely remember slamming the bedroom door and shedding all your clothes. It was there, underneath the steady stream of warm water in the en-suite shower that you begin to reflect on what Aemond had said, the hot spread of embarrassment in your chest reminding you of his harsh words.

He is so fucking rude. Classist. Nepo-baby. Arrogant. A dash of sexism perhaps?

And an all round dickhead.

Though you feel a little bad for disrupting dinner, you just couldn't allow yourself to tolerate that. And judging by the heightened tone of Alicent’s voice downstairs, she wasn’t going to either. He seemed a bit taken off guard that you'd even said something back. Perhaps Floris hadn't been so…intolerant and bitey.

And you're supposed to have a routine with him. Wake up, work out, practise with him for several hours a day. It's literally written in your contract that you have to see this man.

You sit on the bed, towel around you, for an obscenely long time, with your hair wet around your shoulders now starting to frizz up. The warmth of the shower you just spent a small lifetime in is still warming your bones, but more than anything, dread creeps in, stealing it and leaving a cold sensation behind. One that makes you a little homesick, or just desperate to see someone familiar.

Your phone pings (surprisingly given the Targs seem to live in the middle of nowhere so you're making do with 3G) and you can't help but grin at the texts.

What a golden retriever of a man.

Ellyn also seems to have you on the brain as well, following up with a text only a few minutes later. Is everyone fucking talking about you?

She's so sweet it's gross.

You break a small smile at their chirpy text messages. Realistically you could text Rhaenys, tell her everything that's happened, she'd waste no time in coming to the rescue.

But it would also mean letting her down. Letting yourself down.

Letting Aemond win.

And that wasn't going to fucking happen.

Words can't describe how much you didn't want to pry yourself from the cosiest bed you've ever slept in. But needing to pee, being hungry and also the alarm on your phone signalling that it was 04:30 in the morning, unfortunately all would work in favour of finally getting up.

It doesn't even really bother you waking up early anymore. In the beginning it was torture, having to be awake so quickly and then straight in the gym and the ice for training. Several times Rhaenys had to drag you from your bedsheets in the morning, back in the early days.

But now, as you brush your teeth and wash your face, pulling on some semblance of sportswear to begin your training day, it feels more difficult than usual to get ready, knowing that he is going to be there as well. Skating with you. Having to touch you.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment’s fucking reprieve in this household as you close your bedroom door and are greeted by the sight of Aemond’s bedroom door wide open. He’s sat, fully clothed in black on an armchair, pulling a pair of shoes on. The short sleeves show just how muscly his arms and shoulders are as it sticks to him like a second skin, whereas before you weren’t able to see.

Since he's leaned over, several strands have made its way out his loose silver bun, hanging straight before his face. That as well as the silver chain that sways over the rounded collar of his shirt.

A part of you is intrigued to see what such a tall, lithe man looks like on the ice. Would he be graceful, despite his stature?

Hearing your bedroom door open, he looks up, double tying the shoes he was wearing. When your eyes meet, he visibly pushes his top and bottom teeth together in annoyance, as if she's just desperate to say something. His breathing noticeably heavier at having seen you.

You want to say something.

To tell him how much of a dick he is.

How he made you feel.

But you assume he must know this already and yet continues in the way that he acts. That’s almost the worst part about it.

You swear his eye looks you up and down. Right from your feet, over your middle, chest and then back to your face. Not a quick motion either. It was calculated. Taking in the very clothes you’re wearing, which isn’t anything special, just the sportswear you always wear when training. Now, with your arms and chest on show in the tank top and skin tight leggings, you feel very on show. Judged almost.

Your gut swirls with nerves all of a sudden, and you swallow whatever saliva you had in your mouth and turn away from him finally with a sigh. Each foot heavily trudging down the stairs. You manage to make it to the kitchen, leaning against the counter nursing a glass of orange juice in an effort to wake yourself and also to psych yourself up for working with Aemond for the first full day. Usually waking up early doesn’t bother you, but with the dread and nerves, your eyes feel heavy and itchy.

Aemond shuffles into the kitchen not a few minutes later, making a point of slipping narrowly past you along the kitchen to fill up his water bottle. The silence between you both is exaggerated by the trickling of water into his cup, and the sound he makes when he takes a few heavy sips, making you feel as if you have lead in your stomach.

In your periphery you see him, tall and slender in the middle, his head tipped back and throat bobbing as he drinks almost the entirety of the bottle in one go. You realise you’re staring when he brings it from his lips, his good eye making contact with yours, before refilling his water bottle again.

“Regretting the partnership?” he asks without looking at you.

Your cheeks burn at having been caught staring, so you flit back to your glass of orange juice, tapping the glass nervously, “Be lying if I said no”

He laughs through his nose, “Hm”

He can’t hum. That’s my thing.

“I can tell” he starts, to which you throw a pointed glare, “If a look could kill I’d be dead by now” Aemond muses, not doing a good enough job of not smiling, with the way his lips almost naturally curl upwards.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an rude, insufferable dick, I’d be more inclined to tolerate you”

He pushes his lips together, your quip only making him smirk even more, which he tries to hide by sipping some more water.

You shake your head, muttering under your breath, "Fucking nepo-baby"

And just like that, the air feels cold and he places his water bottle down on the counter with more force than you anticipated, "Don't call me that"

His jaw is tense. His eye serious.

Victory and pride swell in your head.

"Oh, have I touched a nerve?"

"Fuck off"

"So it's alright if you're a classist prick, but it's not okay when it's the other way around?"

"Shut u-"

"Gods, please" Aegon interrupts, walking groggily into the kitchen, wearing loose sportswear and carrying dark purple circles under his eyes, "Fucking hell guys, I walk in here and it drops a few degrees" he murmurs tiredly, propping up a foot to tie his laces.

You and Aemond never break your stare the entire time, and you feel your grip so tight on the glass, you're surprised it's not broken apart. He does as the same, a white knuckled grip on the edge of the counter, as if he is aching to say more.

He takes a noticeable deep breath and slips away from the counter, swinging the water bottle on one finger, "Be on the ice in 5" he says flatly, stepping out the glass doors to take the path down to the sports hall.

Once he's gone, the atmosphere lifts significantly and you feel for once you can breathe. You're only bought out of a trance when Aegon chuckles,

"He should apologise"

Slowly, you look over at Aegon, who is sat on the sofa, elbows rested on his knees.

"He should" you reply, "But I have a feeling he won't"

Aegon bites his lip looking away, confirming that you're right.

Having had enough of talking about him, you changed the subject, downing the rest of the juice and going to the sink to wash the glass.

"Forgive me if this sounds…judgemental" you start, "but you don't look like the figure skating type"

Aegon smirks, "You'd be right, all judgement aside, I'm not really the type"

“Then why are you in it?”

He shrugs, tugging his sweatpants over his hips a bit higher, “Family thing. Have to”

You don’t say it to him now, but you can’t help but think that’s a bit sad. That Viserys and Alicent’s children might feel pressured to be in the same business as her, just because of their family name.

“Don’t pull that face. Women love it” he smiles, “It’s half the reason I do it”

“For the women?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, they think guys in figure skating are sweet and sensitive, or something”

You laugh half-heartedly, “I’m not sure if that’s true for either of you”

Aegon grunts as he pulls himself to sit on the counter, “I don’t go for girls in figure skating. Too smart for the likes of me”

“I think that was a compliment?” you smile at him, to which he rolls his eyes.

Checking the time, you start to make your way out the glass doors.

“For the record” Aegon calls from the counter. You look back, half over the threshold, “That was the best triple lutz I’ve seen”

You smile at him, nodding in thanks.

“Except when I do it of course” he adds, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Goodbye, Aegon”

“Enjoy training with your favourite person!”

You don’t respond to that as you step to the back of the house, trailing the path you had done with Helaena only the day before, heart going fast with nerves and anticipation. The air conditioning of the sports hall hits you immediately, making goosebumps erupt on your arms, but you know you’ll just get warm as you train.

On the edge of the ice rink, Otto Hightower stands on the outside, hands behind his back as Aemond tends to do when stood still, watching his second grandson as he skates. Your feet halt in their tracks once you see a flash of white hair on the ice, flitting by your vision with such speed that it almost makes you question for a moment if it was real.

Otto coaches him from the side lines, instructing him on perfecting certain moves. But honestly, sometimes he needn’t bother. For such a tall, lithe man, he skates across the ice with such sharpness but also grace that it shocks you into a frozen stance, just observing.

You watch as Aemond builds speed, skating backwards, one foot lifted to start his Triple Lutz, the same move he saw you do the previous day with Helaena, he lifts his body with ease and lands with his long limbs outstretched. He does a few more moves at the advice of his grandfather, until Otto realises you are stood there. And it’s when Aemond looks over at you, slightly out of breath, gliding across the ice, that the illusion breaks, but not enough to lift your gaze from his broad chest.

“Good morning” Otto greets, only turning his body slightly.

You nod to him, blinking the trance away, “Morning”

“How did you find the routine?” he asks, referring to the video he’d sent, highlighting the routine you would practise with Aemond today. It was fairly standard, no lifts, (at least for the time being), something you could easily do. As expected with Pairs figure skating, there’s a lot of contact, which given how you and Aemond started the day, is making your stomach reel a little.

“Yeah looked all good to me”

“Wonderful. Shall we begin?” Otto smiles, barely visible beneath his beard, but you nod anyway.

Once you have your skates laced, you stand by the side lines, threading your hair through your fingers to get the majority of the hair out your face and into a ponytail, with only a few pieces too short and sitting by your jaw. You sigh, almost not wanting to acknowledge Aemond’s presence as you pause in the middle of the rink, where the routine begins.

To say Aemond wears all black, his ice skates are white, contrasting almost perfectly with his platinum hair which is still loose in a bun. And you notice all too well the closer he gets as he skates behind you that he is extremely tall, which of course you’d noticed before, but being in such forced proximity, it’s all the more obvious.

You both get into position, standing straight in front of him, his body behind you not quite touching. His hand slips between your waist and your arm, resting on your middle, his touch briefly brushing over your bare arm. If you didn’t have goosebumps before, you did now. Pairs always felt a bit…close. And you’d never done it professionally, but had dabbled before, so you at least know this is normal.

You put your hand over his, mirroring the stance you’re supposed to start with, your other hand behind your back. His hand and yours moves with your breathing against your ribs, and with his fingers splayed out, his hand is so large it covers a large portion of your torso. And you don’t quite know, but despite his god-awful attitude, the sheer closeness and intimacy of it has warmth pool in your stomach. But you blame it somewhat on nerves.

The music is classical, as are most of the Targaryen’s routines. And slowly you and Aemond skate, trying to avoid eye contact the entire time. It’s only a two minute routine, and yet it feels long. You didn’t know what to expect, but Aemond is strictly professional about it. He doesn’t say a word and is calculated and rigid about his movements, without any facial expression to give away what he’s really thinking as your hands join in several of the moves. And true to the rest of him, his hands are soft, the fingers long, his chest fairly broad, arms subtly well-muscled and legs that go on for days.

Not that it matters. The attitude on him is enough of a turn off.

Otherwise, he’d be an attractive guy.

The last proper move you do, is where he picks you up and throws you into a triple spin, not unlike the triple lutz, landing on one foot. And so as you both gain speed, gliding from one corner of the ice to the other, both his hands brace your waist as you skate backwards, applying the smallest amount of pressure that still makes you flush. It’s all very quick, and he lifts you with your help, spinning you just enough that you gain momentum and speed in the air, landing on one foot and dismounting as smooth as you can. You wobble a bit on the dismount, having not been flung in a while and you screw your face up, not entirely happy with the outcome.

After finishing the routine in the same position, Otto calls, “Very good. The dismount needs a little work, but I think you know that”

You nod, skating towards him, away from Aemond, who remains on his spot for a moment. You can’t help but feel the burn of his continued gaze on the back of your head though.

As you lean on the wall, Aegon and Helaena materialise from behind him, since they must be starting their own routines soon.

“Yeah, apart from looking like they want to murder each other it was great” Aegon muses, carrying his skates in his hand and flashing a look to Helaena. She presses her lips together, trying to not laugh out loud.

Otto is quiet for a moment, before nodding his head, “Well I shall leave you all to it. I need to speak to your mother” he turns to you, “I shall leave you in Aemond’s capable hands”

He doesn’t even wait to see the fallout, insisting on leaving this tense atmosphere as soon as possible and ducks out through the doors where he came in. You sigh, turning, almost bumping your chest right into Aemond not realising he was there. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue in what you observe is pure annoyance.

“Right” he says finally, “Spins”

Charming.

You nod wordlessly, getting into position and crossing your ankles, into something akin to a ballet stance, all while Aegon and Helaena are practising on the other end of the rink, the music playing loud enough to mask the sound of their skates. Aemond stands behind you, hand on hips observing, and you’re about to go into the third spin when he steps forward to your back.

“You need to keep your back straight,” he comments in a low tone.

He pushes his fist square in the middle of your back, his other hand tugging one shoulder gently back to improve your posture. The entire notion happens so quickly that it genuinely catches you off guard, and you pray to all the gods that exist that he didn’t hear the tiny gasp that came out of your mouth. It just slipped out so involuntarily, now your face is starting to burn.

“Better” he says.

When he steps away, you move your shoulders, readjusting. But the burn where his hands had been didn’t disappear.

The fluttering feeling that erupted in your gut when he’d first placed his hand over your middle, hadn’t faltered. Not even a little bit.

And finally, your head, that felt as if it were filled with cotton, was whirring a million miles an hour at the closeness between you.

You thought maybe it would disappear after a few hours.

But you were more mad at yourself, that it didn’t seem to.

Bold means I couldn't tag!

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bucknastysbabe · 8 months

Text

Hey look I finished an AU bingo ask! I enjoyed this one so much💖 I felt the brain cooking making up and putting together actual smart people science words. Thanks for the request!

AU bingo - Sci-fi Horror - Aemond Targaryen

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Murder AI Aemond, obsessive/stalking behaviors, TW TW TW: NONCON AND DUBCON. The noncon is not a full scene but warning, non-descript mass murder, scientist!reader, nanotechnology, spaceship setting, somewhere far in the future, pnv!sex, masturbation, Aemond kinda has a mommy kink if you squint and a Bible quote kink lmfao, v!fingering, manipulation, space odyssey gone wrong trope

A/N: No beta I’ll prob come back and fix some shit soon

The ship landed with a faint thud on the green, green exo-planet. You followed Aemond along quietly, meek, fearful, broken. Coming down the unfurled slanted walkway a sweet smell hit your senses. Miles of flowery fields waved, a perfect breathable atmosphere. In the distance, avian-like creatures tittered. A fragment of peace was in your tattered soul.

He hummed softly, gesturing to the beauty.

"God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

You felt that Aemond was the serpent and remained quiet, breathing in the fresh air. Nothing like home. Maybe you could start anew. The man turned to look, stating, “But we’re God. We have a duty. We shall make this planet everything that Earth has failed to do. Join me, be my Eve will you?” He seemed genuine.

A long fingered hand extended to you. Your gaze flickered between that glowing eye and the outstretched digits. You grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Together, looking upon the horizon you murmured, “Yes, my Adam. You were the greatest creation after all.”

He pecked the stray tear rolling down your cheek, squeezing your palm, lips curling in glee.

It wasn’t meant to end up like that for you. At one point Aemond was your AI. Artificially Enhanced Monitor Of Nanites Directive. Simply installed cameras and layer upon layers of wafer thin circuits loaded with information. Aemond preferred to be referred as he. He was also an arrogant bastard, but helpful as was his intent.

Your coworker Greaves and Aemond did not get along well, the AI criticizing his work. You’d tune them out with plugs or music buds. The scientist laden ship had a destination to a far away mining colony. The general’s plan was to find a way to used nano-technology to replace missing arms, eyes, and other wounds. Time was running thin but the blonde man in cryo-stasis would be your second trial.

The first did not end well. Her body rejected the technology, turning the human into a mindless wreck. Greaves blamed it on you, then General Hightower gave a harsh scolding and upped the time. Aemond consoled you a bit, offering advice. He seemed to take a liking to your banter on the nanotechnology.

He wasn’t the only AI. Other sectors of the ship worked on different but crucial projects such as alien anti-parasitics and ramping up on space suits equipped for defense. Colonization was on the horizon.

Plucking and prodding the little nanites with different stimuli had them snapping and shifting, seeking to find a form. You just needed to code what form they would assume. Aemond’s clipped voice echoed over you. He suggested, “Have you tried printing a molded cast of the man’s eye socket?”

Perching your chin on a shaky hand you smiled, “I swear, it’s always the simplest things I miss. Thank you Aemond.”

“You would have realized soon, want me to begin the scans and print? Likely you need rest, I know the stress of the upped time is draining your bodily function. The brain needs much more sleep, especially one as bright as yours.”

You blushed a bit, fumbling your tweezers. The AI had a certain…courtly way of words. His sort of programming wouldn’t allow for flirtation but it certainly came across like that. Greaves mocked you and the intelligence’s ‘crush’. Greaves always found a way to make you miserable. You did all the major work and he got the accolades.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you announced, “You’re right, I’ll go rest for a bit, get back to work with the mold. Thank you again, and engage lockdown protocol so he doesn’t mess up my work like last time.”

“Engaging it now, sleep well Miss.”

You crashed as soon as you reached your quarters, sleeping deeply and sound. Upon awakening and getting dressed you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Just chalk it up to your fried nerves. It wasn’t the first time and this was an older ship, ghost stories had gotten to you before.

The mold was in a canister from the printer, you scrubbing up and carefully taking it out. Aemond politely asked, “Did you sleep well? You look refreshed.” Blushing yet again you murmured, “Very much needed, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”

“Greaves has been in the mess hall, you will likely get some peace now. Shall we begin?”

The armor folded off your precious lab table, the nanites dormant from no stimuli. Pressing a button you placed the mold into a hatch, sending it up into the chamber. In fluid motions the little bugs covered the new space, feeling and searching before all inserting into the eye socket, glowing a bright blue.

You laughed in glee, “Yes! Yes perfect! Look at that Aemond, they’ve formed a pupil!”

Shining light on the false eye the pupil contracted and flinched, the illusion of eyelids closing. You cheered again in excitement, getting Aemond to video the big jump in success. You could start phase two soon. Just had to deal with your partner.

“Amazing miss, amazing. They took to it well. Shall I send the material to command?”

You grinned and looked up at the camera, “Please! God bless! A miracle!” You’d continue to test the nanite organ until the hiss of the door opening alerted you.

Greaves stumbled in, slurring, “I see you got the jump on me this time. Did the creep robot do it for you? Weird fucking thing.” He leaned against the sterile white wall, grinning with hazy eyes. You frowned and stood up, “That’s his job, to aid us. I’m sure since you work so hard in the mess hall you’ll get your accolades again.”

He squinted at you, arms folding against a chest, “Whas’ your fuckin’ problem with me? You’d rather chat with a bunch of circuits than work with your assigned partner!” His already reddened face darkened, taking another step forward.

Fear laced through your veins. Aemond somehow sneered, “Because you, her lab partner, sold her out on your own mistake. Go to bed, your alcohol content levels are above the limit.” Greaves threw his hands up and hollered, “Oh fuck you!” He stumbled to the switch, you and the AI shutting up when Greaves switched him off.

The bigger man kept stalking closer, eyes on you in an darkened manner. Like a predator closing in on his prey. You squeaked, “Calm down Greaves, I can show you everything!” He hissed, “I already heard everything and the video, bitch! S’bout time someone put you in your place again.”

He snatched your wrist, slamming you against the steel cryo-chamber. You howled in pain, trying to escape. Greaves’ breath stunk of liquor, hot and rank, sweating on your clean skin. He pushed himself on top of you, mumbling frantically, “Maybe you need to get fucked, all that pent up shit from your computer boyfriend.”

You struggled and cursed, “Fuck you! Get off of me! I will report you!” He smirked, “Try me. No cameras with your prince in shining circuits around.” He forced himself between your legs, clumsy drunk hands yanking at your pants. You cried in fear again, kneeing and biting, getting a clock to the head.

Dazedly you remembered the tweezers in your coat. Playing limp had the idiot croon, “Good girl, thats what we want to see.” He shoved his face into your neck, hands prying your lab pants knee height now. Thats when you struck, slowly, slowly, pulling the tweezers from your pocket and jabbing him in the side, hopefully near a lung.

Greaves hollered in pain, breath wheezy and stilted, blood dripping from white cloth. You kicked and removed yourself, stumbling and bumping around in a frenzy as your partner tried to scramble after you. First, you switched on Aemond again. Secondly, you ran out into the hallway, finding the nearest guard, lump on your forehead and clothes torn.

You weren’t sure what happened back in the lab while you were taken into medbay and seen by HR. But after given a small dose of sedatives and care for your head wound, you passed Greaves strapped into a gurney, howling, “Fuck you! Fuck you! He’s gonna kill me! Don’t leave me locked away, please! She’s lying!”

You gaped, unnerved by his fearful warbling and frantic yells. Aemond would be waiting. He probably was worried. When the door hissed open the familiar clipped tone hastily asked, “Are you alright miss? I- I would have helped, sent a warning. I apologize, please, is everything okay?”

You wearily sat on your lab chair, rubbing pounding temples. “To be honest, I don’t know. H-he tried to rape me, said such nasty things, it was all so sudden. But he should go on tribunal about it. For some reason I am glad you missed it.”

“For the best,” he said bitterly, “Why don’t you go rest again? I’ll keep watch over everything. Maybe we can try more tests tomorrow. He’ll get what he deserves.”

An ominous feeling settled over you but off to your personal quarters you went, draining the pills with water. You stared at the ceiling, mind reeling, before emptiness. A bright blue haunted your dreams. Just there. Flexing and dilating. Trying to see through you. Understand.

It was a weary wait for the tribunal. Your research was put on halt and you on mandatory isolation besides meeting with a therapist. There was an order made and interviews occurring. The tedious process of moving someone out of a different department to assist you.

So it was just you. Aemond too. He wasn’t much of a talkative AI as of late, short responses and antagonizing little ‘hms’ or ‘very well miss.’ You began to ignore the effervescent blue light, him doing the same. You knew he was watching, that little burn in the back of your head.

In the meantime you read your Bible, did yoga, wearily watched the port window, occasionally would go into the lab to stare at your halted work. You pulled open the container for the cryochamber, staring down at the frozen man. He had a handsome face, chiseled and lean, long nose, sharp jaw.

Your eyes lingered down his rangy form, this man obviously was athletic of sorts. Or maybe a simple nobody, just managed to get into the program after what happened to his eye. Between his long legs laid his soft cock, you stared for a second too long before-

“Is that not inappropriate?”

Startled, you whipped around to see Aemond’s blue light in your face. You snapped, “It was purely medical!” His laugh, raspy and grating, echoed in the white lab. You frowned and returned to your room, slapping the button for the door to hiss shut.

You’d go take a shower, blood heated from anger and…something else. Under the hot stream of water you imagined the gorgeous subject with that familiar blue, caressing and stroking your overwhelmed body. It had been too long, your hand awkwardly jerking between your swollen lips until you came with a stifled grunt.

Afterward you felt exposed and paranoid, like Aemond could pry into the bathroom, chuckling at your obvious behavior. But there wasn’t any cameras in that bathroom…that you were aware of. Sitting on your bed, guilt rose up your back. You’d pray.

More time passed before you were selected to testify for the tribunal. Greaves’ crew made a good argument that Aemond and you planned on his downfall. He claimed that the AI had gone wrong somewhere, developed the notion it could possess feelings, how he had been threatened.

Shakily you testified that Aemond was forced off and the board could check, then how you’d been forced upon without consent. They tried to cross-examine but you held strong. Teary by the end, they moved on and you sat by your appointed admiral. She rubbed your shoulders.

Greaves was sentenced to hard labor, and would remain in isolation on the ship until reaching the mining colony, where he would serve out the sentence. They appointed, sadly, another male to fill your exiled partner’s position.

But you could get back to work.

Aemond was in a right mood when you returned to the lab. Questioning you sharply on what occurred, where Greaves’ would go, did you get a new partner. You answered them all, rubbing your temples, the AI could be quite intense.

“Aemond!,” you snapped.

“What miss?”

“Are you trying to induce a panic attack? Greaves is in the bottom of the ship, I’m back to work, and they have a man named Herron coming from robotics to fill in.”

“Another male? All things considered? It’s obvious you and I could get the job done.”

You sighed, “I know. But it’s what they said. Do you just want to run some stimuli tests?”

He agreed, seemingly placated by the offer, blue light flexing. The pair of you would work on the mold’s ability to sense and perceive, how well would the nanites adapt to the brain. Your eyes grew droopy after awhile, Aemond humming, “Why don’t you go to bed?” Nodding blearily, you stumbled off to the adjacent bedroom, completely forgetting to put on any of the safety precautions for the night.

While you slept deeply, Aemond had some things to do. Everything was open for his command, including the nanites and subject. He had a great plan, and it would not fail. First he needed to go pay a visit to Greaves, infiltrating the entire AI system. Poor miss, she was so tired, forgot everything. Wonderful little creature. He’d help.

Feeling refreshed in the morning, you dragged yourself to the mess hall, receiving stares upon stares. You grabbed a salad and finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened?” A female scientist from anti-parasitic whispered dramatically, “How do you not know? Greaves was murdered? All of the oxygen was depleted from his cell.” Your stomach fell, head going swimmy.

Stumbling up from the bench, ignoring your food, heart beating faster and faster, you crashed into the lab. Your voice cracked when you shouted, “Aemond!” His voice returned, but from a different place, a different body. The blue eye shone and twinkled at you, fine lips curling upward.

“You should be thanking me, miss,” the AI standing in the subject’s body said.

It went black. Too much.

Thrashing awake, big hands held you down, long legs caging your own in. The handsome face, long blonde hair tickled your skin, fucking Aemond! “What did you do? What have you done? Aemond!,” you cried. He shushed and cooed with that devious smirk, holding you still until the panic turned to resignation. He swiped a stray tear from your eye.

“Be still and know that I am God,” he sighed.

You grew fearful again, the fact that he knew you owned a Bible and just recited it to your face said too much. How much had he seen. Aemond grew more comfortable atop of you, stroking your hair. He cocked his head and stated, “I know everything about you. You’re all that I need, truly. The perfect human.”

You wanted to spit in his face, but the petting and warmth was getting to that part of you that craved the attention, the fact you’d been in the shadows all your life. But he was a murderer— the rational part of your brain howled. Instead came out a warbling, “Me? Perfect?“

Aemond drew his new face closer, drawing a spindly finger down from your chin to chest. “I’ve been on this ship a long time, and no one has spoken to me like you. Not since my creator. She’s gone. But you have captured me, ensnared me somehow.”

One of your legs slipped round his long ones, suddenly overwhelmed with need. All you’d ever wanted was to be seen. He cooed, “I see you lamb, my eve.” More tears leaked down your cheeks as you pled, “Kiss me, see me then, y-you snake.”

A sharp grin erupted on his sharp features before pulling you in with a kiss, both of you unexperienced, a big hand stabilizing your head. You tilted his head for ease of access, a sloppy gnashing of teeth and tongue, lips bruising from the sheer yearning. Aemond moaned deeply, “I see- hah- how you humans love touch so much.”

Your now free hands moved to where they liked, one in silky white-blonde strands, the other just feeling toned shoulders and back. The pair of you had your lip lock grow more attuned, no less passionate, but gliding across each other. You pled again, “Clothes, help, Aemond!” He sat back on his haunches, shivering as his long stiff cock slapped tight belly.

You shucked off your top and bra, him jerking down your bottoms to leave you all to his view. Aemond already had been bare, no clothes were prepared for the subject yet. He inhaled sharply, hands slowly moving down your heaving form, studying ridges and curves, sliding warm fingers between puffy folds. You cried out at that, spasming at the eager expression in return.

Aemond let out a small ‘Hm’ and slid his longest digits into your dripping hole, immediately curling inwards and upwards to drag against sensitive walls. Very, very sensitive walls. Back arched and mouth agape you rolled your hips and whined his name. The man rambled loosely, transfixed, “Having a data bank is quite helpful but nothing comes to this, my Eve.”

He slipped a third finger in, using a calloused thumb to slid around your swollen clit, making you cry louder and writhe under pleasure. He watched ravenously, drinking you in when your peak hit. Gushing onto his pale hand and screeching like a creature, you reached Nirvana for what felt like minutes.

You cried again when his sheathed himself inside of you, no warning, both of you moaning and grunting like animals. The sensitive skin guarding your cunt was ripped now, bleeding, but the fullness of his cock was a ripe distraction. Aemond seemed to be overwhelmed by the sensation, sucking in breath, eyes wide, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

He plastered toned body against your own, moaning gutturally when you wrapped your arms and legs around his larger frame. “Oh- oh- fucking hell- this!” The blonde groaned lowly, nipping your throat, hands bruisingly placed on your waist as he snapped into your slick cunt.

The blunt tip of his cock stirred up familiar feelings of pleasure, tightening and knotting your lower belly. You heaved, “Don’t stop!” A drop of sweat hit your mouth, you licking the salty taste off. So close to human yet not. Yet not. Yet not not not.

A pinch to your oversensitive clit and a batter from his cock sent you into another crest, holding to Aemond for dear life. He moaned your name and white hot spend covered your mound and belly. He kissed your forehead and wiped away the spend with your discarded top, breathing. You sat up a bit and asked, “Where do you go from here? They cannot know?”

Aemond got up, long stride beating your clumsy foal-like stumbling. He stated, “They won’t know my love.” Your own door shut and locked behind his retreating frame. You managed to reach it and beat on the durasteel, crying, “Aemond! Aemond come back! Stop! What are you doing!”

Oh how you’d been fooled.

Oh how you were weak.

Oh how you were just a human pawn when the alarms went off and you watched the bodies float out of the ship, silently screaming and dying as their blood boiled in the vacuum of space.

He returned later, now dressed in the immaculate garb of a commander, hair neatly swept back, eye sparkling. You remained naked and felt like a mouse under his imperious gaze. All energy was gone, you’d cried it out. Aemond strode towards you, boots clicking. He knelt to grab you chin, face tilting to study you. He’d never truly understand the complexities of human emotion, no matter how human he may appear.

Aemond sighed, “I did this for you, for us, those people do not matter. Earth and it’s people are dying. We begin anew. My perfect Eve,” he kissed your swollen lips. “You’ll see. Just wait, I brought you some nicer clothes, have them on.”

The man stood up and gently laid down female commander’s garb, before kneeling to you.

“I know this isn’t registering in your human, wonderfully human, brain, but it’ll make sense later on. I’ve already found a beautiful planet. Not too much longer now. Put on the clothes and meet me on the bridge.”

So you did. What other choice was there.

Twisted though he may be, the AI was never horrid to you. Maybe to others, not you. On the comfortable jacket, pants, and boots went. You tried not to cry any more restyling your hair. Most likely he’d coddle and ‘Hm’ condescendingly.

You laughed maniacally as the thought popped up, “Hey! At least my project was successful!”

#heed the tags #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #sci-fi horror au #aemond targaryen smut

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