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marvelcriminalhoe · 2 years

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Mavs Kinktober

Dark! Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen! Reader

“You look good with my hand around your throat.”

Warnings: This is a Dark! story, so 18+ only. Noncon. Incest (Uncle/Niece.) Age gap. Pervy Daemon. Creepy men. Forced touching. Grouping. Unwanted touching. Manipulation. Choking. Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it.) Damaging someone’s reputation (On purpose.) Talks of forced marriage.

AN: 3rd time posting because it just wont show up in the tags :/ Anyway stay tuned for more Daemon and the rest of my kinktober stories!

Word Count: 3,838

It’s tiering sometimes being a princess. Of course, you try not to complain, not wanting to burden anyone with your selfish thoughts, you definitely don't have it as your sister Rhaenyra, the heir to the iron thrown, but it’s still tiering. Having to constantly be regal and poised, having to converse with people that want nothing more than to use you to up their own status in court, having to entertain the hoards of Lords that want to marry you, only for power and your body.

Rhaenyra and you have always been close, only 2 years between the two of you, and you know far more Lords tried to gain her favor than you, but usually, when they would strike out with her, most of them would crawl to your side and try for the other princess.

Despite your closeness, you are very different. The main one being you’ve never understood the whispers of the dragons rage, not having experienced it like the rest of your blood, but watching your sister next to you, you only hoped you never would.

Your sisters rage only seemed to intensify when her betrothal to your cousin, Laenor, was announced by king father. She stormed out of the council meeting and you swear you could see actual smoke coming off of her. She protested, loudly, screamed and cried at your father. She didn't want to marry him, the only man she wanted to marry was the prince of the city, your uncle, Deamon Targaryen.

Rhaenyra had always sort of been infatuated with him. You could understand why, he was handsome, had that adventurous spirit your sister also carried, and was not a poised member of the court, something your sister loathed of all her other suitors.

She seemed to always over looked how controlling Daemon seemed to be. How dark his gaze was, the demons within his eyes always sending shivers down your spine when his purple orbs connected with yours.

Unlike your sister, you always tried to avoid him, which also always seemed to be hard task. Where you were, Daemon seemed to follow. If you were in the gardens, enjoying a nice walk, he would soon appear by your side, offering you his arm and taking the walk with you, no matter how much you protested wanting to be alone. If you were in the library, reading a book in the quiet, he seemed to know, seeking you out and ruining the silence with his deep voice.

Daemon just aways seemed to rub you the wrong way, his lingering eyes, his far too sweet touch. The rumors about him didn't help. The stories of his anger, his temper, only heightened your fear. You never understood Rhaenyra’s true fascination.

If you’re going to be wed to a Lord, you hope it will be someone kind, someone you can for a friendship with. Your sister did not seem to have the same sentiment.

Sadly, your sister did not get her wish. Your uncle, who's wife died a 4 moon turns ago, declined the offer to marry your sister, something that shocked everyone, aside from your father however, who seemed highly pleased with his answer.

If you were brave enough, you would have questioned him about why he would do such a thing, but instead, you gently excused yourself to follow your sister out, allowing her to cry on your shoulder while you tried consoling her heartbreak.

Two moon turns later, your sister, still forlorn, was dressed to the nines for her wedding. You complimented her dress and hair, trying to get a smile on her face, but her mood did not rise. Not while getting ready, not at the ceremony, and not even at the celebration feast afterwards.

You watched her most of the night from where you sat at the head table, her gaze locked on your uncle, who seemed keen on ignoring her completely. Calling out her name when she seemed to have enough of the festivities in her honor, you chose not to follow as she left the hall, instead sending a sympathetic smile to Laenor as he followed his now wife.

With your sister and her new husband gone, definitely not enjoying their marital bed, you are left alone, without a shield from the Lords visiting, and with Rhaenyra officially off the market, it will only be that more exhausting to try and fend them off.

Which is how you ended up here, trying to discreetly get out of a conversation with Lord Jason Lannister, the absolute bane of your existence. He is an egotistical man, but then again, most of them are. Lord Lannister just seems to always know how to trap you in conversation with him for far too long.

Just as you are trying, again, to excuse yourself, a voice from behind you seems to do it for you, “Lord Lannister, would you mind giving me a moment with my dear niece.” It was phrased as a question, but everyone knew it wasn’t one. Prince Daemon doesn't ask questions, only gives orders. You don’t hear what Lord Lannister says to him, turning around to face your uncle. He’s closer than you thought, or is appropriate, but that also doesn't surprise you.

Daemon is anything but appropriate.

“Uncle.” You greet, your voice coming out as more of a whisper when his purple gaze meets yours. This is the closest you've been to him since he returned to the castle, having been away for awhile. You've been successful in avoiding him, having your hand in a lot of the preparations for your sisters wedding, trying to make sure that despite her not wanting it, it would still be a day fit for the future queen.

Daemon returns your greeting with your name falling from his lips, almost in a mocking whisper to match yours. You take in his appearance. His pink lips painted with a smirk, his white hair now cut short and pushed back, a few stray strands falling in front. He is handsome, something everyone has always known, even you.

Just as you took him in, Daemon seems to have taken you in as well. His eyes, dark and enticing, trailing up and down your body, with a deep hunger, his tongue poking out to wet his lips, his hand reaching out to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear, his warm, callused hand resting a few moments longer on your soft skin than is proper, as he speaks your families mother language, “Ao jurnegon gevie, riñītsos.” Your heart speeds up a little at his words, You look beautiful, little girl, But he doesn't stop there, “Se olvie gevie riña isse se dārion.” The most beautiful girl in the kingdom.

You clear your throat, briefly blinking away from his stare before gaining the courage to look back at him, “I think that is insensitive to say, considering this is the future queens wedding.”

“And yet,” Daemon smirks, stepping closer to you, “It doesn't stop it from being true.”

When you were younger, you, like your sister, admired your uncle. He was always fun to be around, entertaining you with stories of his life, taking you on a ride with Caraxes before you were allowed to ride your own dragon, giving you gifts from his many travels all around. It wasn’t until you grew into womanhood when you started to drift away, being taught by your Septa after your first bleed that some men are not good men, even if they are good around you. You learned how to properly read people, how to know which rumors are true and which are not, and that is how you learned that your uncle, has never been who you thought he was.

Daemon Targaryen is a Dragon, through and through.

“It seems the feast has tired me out more than I believed, surely I should retire.” You find yourself trying to excuse yourself from the man, much like you do with the other men of the court that give off the warning bells in your head, “Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Goodnight, uncle.

Though, your escape is in vain, “I shall escort you to your chambers then.” Daemon offers you his arm. You open your mouth to protest, stating your guard can escort you, only for Daemon to intervene, “Who better to protect you than your warrior uncle, dear niece?” You didn't have an answer for that, making you be on a quiet walk down the halls of the castle, your uncle by your side. The walk to your chambers seemed longer tonight, a small chill in the air as you move, and you think your uncle is walking slower than normal to prolong the journey. A thought you let leave your mind the moment it enters, Why would he do that? It’s not like you’re even conversing.

Reaching your doors, you are surprised to see the entry way empty of a guards presence, making your frown. There is always a guard in front of your chambers, your father all but demanding it, over protective, especially after your mother died and your sisters adventurous ways.

“It would be very reckless of me to leave you unguarded.” Your uncle voices, drawing you back from the wandering thoughts of where your guard could be.

You send a small, forced smile up at him, “I am sure I will be fine until they return.” “Then I will stay until then.” Daemon responds, and you should have known he always gets what he wants. With a sigh, you walk into your chambers, only for your uncle to follow you in as well, you turn to face him, “Uncle?” “You don’t expect the Prince to wait outside, do you, dear niece?” He questioned sarcastically, walking past you and further into the room, over towards your fireplace, making himself comfortable on the couch in front of it.

“What if someone sees you leave my chambers?” You don't want people getting any sort of ideas to spread rumors and tarnish your reputation.

Daemon quells your worries with a hearty laugh, “Is it a crime to want to spend time with my niece, who I have missed dearly on my travels?”

When you didn't move from your stunned spot by the door, he turns his head to you, brow raised, “Kessa ao daor join aōha kepa, gevie riña?” Will you not join your uncle, pretty girl?

You feel yourself flustered from his outward flirting, not used to such blatant compliments. Sure, you get the occasional one, but most are worried of being inappropriate and taken wrong, offending you, a princess, but obviously the city prince is not worried about such things.

“You enjoy reading, don’t you?” Daemon gestures to your stacks of books among the wall when you sit on the couch with him, keeping a good distance between the both of you. His question is not one you expected, but it leads you into a nice conversation with him about the things you've learned, making you relax the longer you are in his presence, not even noticing Daemon nearing you as the conversation goes on.

It’s not until he interrupts one of your retellings of Dragon History: Targaryen Riders, that you see how close you've gotten. Your shoulder brushing his, making you falter and tense up, “Your dress is very lovely.” His eyes are scrutinizing as he studies the layers of red and gold cloth adorning you. “Thank you,” You falter, not knowing if he actually means it, it’s always hard to tell with him. If he’s mocking you or being serious. 9 times out of 10 it’s the former, “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mmm.” Daemon hums, eyes slowly moving from up to your eyes, “I can see why. Though, I am sure the corset is dreadful to wear for so long.” You laugh lightly, he’s not wrong, “I have had plenty of practice.”

“Well, in the comfort of your own chambers, I am sure you can enjoy being out of the confines of such a foundation.”

His suggestion catches you off guard, making your eyes widen. Surely he knows how improper his insinuation is, even, and especially being, behind closed doors. But judging by how his eyes are glued to your covered chest, moving up and down more rapidly with every passing minute by the bubbling anxiety in your veins, he is completely aware. Your mouth goes dry, as you feel his warm hand gently caressing your skin, up your arm, over your clothed shoulder, to your back, where the laces of your corset sit.

“Daemon—“ You start, only to gasp as he skillfully undoes them. It shouldn't surprise you, you suppose, you’ve heard all of the rumors of him, he probably has plenty of experience with untying a woman’s corset.

“Just trying to get you more comfortable.” Daemon remarks, as if this is a normal situation. Granted, it is for him.

He doesn't give you time to reject, using both of his hands to unlace your corset, and the top of your skirt, forcing you to throw both of your hands up to hold your top in place, keeping your dignity, or whats left of it now.

“Stand up.” Daemon demands, making you shake your head, his voice growing more impatient, “Stand up.”

You do as your told, afraid of the repercussions if he were to be angered further, swallowing thickly as he uses his hands on your waist to turn you to face him, your skirt lowering slightly from you standing, being pushed down more and falling to your knees. You hear him hum as he grabs your wrists, forcing them down with tight grips, and making your corset fall the same way.

You feel embarrassed, not being able to look the prince in the eyes as he takes in your body lustfully. Your not bare to him, thankfully, but the small slip you wear under your dresses to keep from the laces rubbing your skin raw is as thin as one of your sleep dresses. Still, you’ve never been this exposed to a man. It’s indecent, and if someone were to know, were to find out, your character would be seriously tarnished. Ruined.

“Iā drēje jurnegon.” Daemon says, one of his hands letting go of your wrist to reach out to the slip, rubbing the silk between his fingers. A true sight.

You gasp as he pulls you forward closer to him, between his spread knees. You try to remain standing, but with another harsh pull, you fall on his lap, “Iā jaesa, drējī.” A Goddess, truly.

“Daemon—” You try to move off of his lap, his tight grip on your hips making you stay in place with a wince, a warning given no doubt.

“Let me enjoy the beauty in front of me.” He orders, his hands roaming your body. You jolt in shock as one of his thumbs rubs over your breast, your nipple hardening as he does it again. You feel tears pricing your eyes, but don’t try to pull away again, the bruises forming already from his angry hands keeping you complacent. “You have grown into such a beautiful lady over the years, forced me to watch you from afar. Teased me for too long.” A whimper leaves your lips and the first of the tears falls from your eyes when you feel the softest of caresses from Daemon’s lips touch your neck. The sound seemed to have broke any resolve he was holding back, if there was any to begin with, and your world spins as he flips you onto your back, him above you, making a home between your legs. The darkness in his eyes has you terrified as he looks down at you, but your reputation has you pleading with him, “Please uncle, Daemon— stop this.”

“Such a sweet voice,” He ignores your words, “Such a sweet girl.” He reconnects his lips to your neck, much harsher than the caress from earlier, “You taste just as sweet.”

You use your hands to push on his shoulders, but he drops all of his weight onto you, making your effort futile. You have no doubt that he is sucking and biting marks onto your neck, marks that you wont be able to hide or conceal, marks that will have rumors about your innocence roaming the halls of every castle in the seven realms.

“Stop.” You try again, but with the crack in your voice, sniffle of your nose, it is so pathetic.

Daemon listens to you however, tearing his lips from your neck to glare down at your face, moving one of his roaming hands to your throat, squeezing tightly, “You do not give me orders.” The sneer of his lips you've seen before, something he gives to his enemies, and somehow, that includes you now.

How you are the foe in this situation, baffles you.

More tears fall from your eyes as you wrap your hands around his wrist, trying and failing to pry it from your throat. His eyes zero in on his hand, contracting around your neck more, cutting off your airway completely. The sneer turns into a smug smirk, the glint in his eyes growing darker if possible, “You look good with my hand around your throat.” He draws his face closer, forcing a kiss upon your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, as he huskily says between them, “You were made to wear my hand. Made for me to use.”

He removes his hand, having you draw in gasps of air, not realizing the tearing sound you hear is your slip until you feel Daemon’s tongue on your exposed breasts.

His sucking and biting borders on painful, but it doesn't stop the sounds from falling from your mouth, embarrassingly loud. The groan that follows from Daemon is sinful, as is the shock you receive when he grounds his hips into yours.

“Lvestragī nyke rȳbagon aōha dōna sounds arlī, ñuha jorrāelagon.” Daemon demands, Let me hear your sweet sounds again, my love, Grounding his hips against yours over and over, pulling the sounds from you, no matter how hard you try to hid them.

You whimper when he finally pulls away, out of relief or distress you aren't sure, but Daemon doesn’t completely get off you, instead undoing his trousers and pulling his cock free, you start to panic again.

“Daemon, don’t do this.” Tears falling freely down your face as you watch the prince run his hand up and down his hard, red cock. You’ve never seen one, and wonder briefly if all of them are this big, but you don’t get to have anymore thoughts as his cock brushes against the lips of your cunt, “Please don’t!” You try to sit up, only for one of his hands to find home around your neck again, squeezing enough to caution you into not moving again.

“Don’t play so innocent.” Daemon stares at his cock, running through your lips and gathering your wetness, “If you didn't want this, you wouldn't be so soaked for me.” He groans as he moves his cock to your opening, his head sinking in slowly, as his gaze moves to your tear stained face, “You want me as much as I want you, princess. Crave me as I crave you.”

Your sobs of pain and dread don’t discourage him as he continues to sink into you until his his naked hips are flesh against yours. The small shake of your head doesn’t stop him from believing in his words.

“How you've deprived me too long of your soft walls and sweet flesh. I’ll teach you everything about pleasure, eventually. ” Daemon waits only a second before pulling out and pushing back in, your legs wide around him, his eyes staring at yours, his hair framing his face, his hand still securely around your throat, “But tonight, I’ve waited too long. You’re mine. From tonight on I will not be deprived again.”

He moans louder as he speeds up his thrusts dropping his head down to your neck. You feel sick at the feel of him inside you, his hot breath on your skin, his moans in your ear. But what makes you feel the most ailing, is how good it starts to feel, your body betraying you the most in this affair.

“I feel you squeezing me.” Daemon groans, letting go of your throat to grope your breast instead, kissing up you jaw, “Let me hear you.” He murmurs, “Lvestragī nyke rȳbagon mirre lī gevie elēni.” Let me hear all those beautiful sounds.

His whispering in your ear and the skillful assault of his hands and hips has you whimpering. You can feel every inch of him inside you, a disgustingly pleasing thought as you allow for the pleasure to take over you, not having the strength to continue fighting. You don’t know how long you whimper underneath him until you’re crying out, reaching your peak, and coming around him, squeezing his cock as tight as he squeezed your throat earlier.

The action makes Daemon growl, “That’s it, love. Let me feel you. Feels good doesn't it?” He speeds up his thrusts, angling your hips to go deeper and harder against you, “My cock feels so good inside you, made to be inside you. We were made for each other.”

His lips crash against yours firmly, bruising-ly, his hips stuttering as you feel his cock throb against your walls, his cum coating your insides as he drops onto of you completely, chest heaving up and down.

The kiss turns soft as he seems to come down from his own high, pulling away to ogle you beneath him, spent from his intrusions. He peppers your face with soft pecks, not caring for the taste of salt as you continue to cry lightly. You whine as he pulls out of you, sore, but you're too exhausted to care about anything else. You feel yourself be lifted from the couch and moved to a soft mattress, your tired brain supplying it’s probably your bed. You hear the sound of clothes rustling, and someone stoking the fire, before the mattress and blankets seem to move, hands grabbing at your aching body and pulling you towards them.

“We’ll tell them in the morning.” You feel Daemon murmur against your temple, placing more soft caresses against you, “We’ll tell them your mine and marry you to me, as it’s always meant to be. Your reputation renewed.”

You whine, something that doesn't make sense. There are so many things you should say, that need to be done, your reputation completely tarnished now, innocence taken, even with talks of trying to fix it with marriage, a marriage you've never wanted with him.

A marriage he’s seemed too keen to have regardless.

“Shh, it’s alright,”Daemon whispers in your ear as he curls around your worn out form, you feel something hard probing your oversensitive area, but your exhaustion seems to only grow heavier, “Just going to keep me warm, nothing else. I’ll let you rest. I’m sure your guard is back from the errand he was running for me and your sounds are only for my ears right now."

You don’t protest his words, allowing darkness to consume you completely. Not as if you could protest. Daemon Targaryen is a dragon, through and through, and he always gets what he wants.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of dragon #house of dragon fic #daemon #targaryen #targaryen reader

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zkvry · 7 months

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Speak, Commander | Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary : Reader is the Commander of the Kingsguard. Prince Aegon takes an interest in you during one of King Viserys' feasts.

Warnings : Aegon himself is a warning i suppose..

Additional Information : > standalone from HOTD storyline (there are no spoilers) > written in third person perspective (she/her) > 1433 words | 11 minutes

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The Great Hall welcomed noble Lords and Ladies from around the realm. Tonight, King Viserys held one of many feasts. A small one, yet still glamourous. Ever the generous King he was.

She stood at attention, stationing near the steps of the Royal Table where the King was sitting. She wore a suit of armour, the signature white cloak of the Kingsguard draped elegantly on her right shoulder. A hefty sword rests by her hip, a cautious hand hovering over the hilt.

Aegon approaches from behind, making sure to not startle her. He quietly notes her appearance, clearing his throat before he starts to speak. "Commander. May we speak?"

She turns around, looking expectant. She looks around the room before giving him her full attention. "Prince Aegon, do you require something?" She bows curtly.

He bows his head respectfully in her direction. "I simply wish to... compliment you on your fine appearance. I've never seen you in full armour before," His lips quickly turning into a sly smirk.

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Thank you, My Prince. Now do you require my assistance or not?" Her eyes searching his, trying to figure out his intentions.

"No, Commander. I simply wanted to pay a compliment," He shrugs, a roguish grin on his face. "Perhaps I will get to see you in armour again?" He chuckles.

"Most probably. Though I might try my very best to avoid you at all cost. No offence, Prince," She huffs, bored.

"And why's that?" His voice is teasing. He steps closer, close enough to smell her perfume... And to feel her breath against his face. "Is my reputation *that bad*?" He whispers lowly, his violet eyes shining with mischief.

She steps away, stunned by his approach and closeness. She sighs, looking around the room once more for any threats as she is occupied by Prince Aegon. She stand straight, face stoic "Do I have permission to speak freely, Prince?"

"Of course," Aegon smirks at her reaction. "Speak, Commander," He permits her, his grin growing.

At his command, her shoulder slouches carelessly and she juts out her hip. she rests her arms one atop the other on the hilt of her sword. The stoic face was then replaced by a look of pure boredom - the one she tried to conceal. She looked off guard and casual.

"You-" She starts off, voice firm and of disapproval.

"You are sluggish and lazy. You like to drink - and when you drink you get drunk- and when you are drunk..." Her voice trails off, becoming louder with each phrase. She stops to take a breath. Her voice becomes softer yet firm.

"..When you are drunk, your intentions are clouded with lust. You visit brothels. You shame The King's name and you enjoy doing it," She breathes out, barely taking the time to check herself.

After she speaks, her face flashes in panic. She did not mean to nag at the Prince. she waits for his reaction, prepared to be called out for her casualness in speaking.

He blinks. Once, twice. His mouth curls into a lopsided grin.

"...Ahah," Aegon starts laughing, trying to recover from his shock at her boldness, and her accuracy. "I can't exactly deny that..." He grins mischievously. "You have a very... direct way with your words, Commander," He quirks a brow.

She clears her throat, silently relieved that he didn't order to cut off her tongue right then and there.

"I was given permission to speak freely..." she justifies, eyes roaming everywhere but him.

He shrugs. "Of course. Free speech is your right as a citizen of the realm," He chuckles sheepishly.

"I must admit, your words took me off guard. Most don't speak to me so openly... But I don't mind. It's... well.. entertaining, I suppose," He pauses, smiling. "Can you blame me for my ways? Being a Targaryen Prince certainly has it's benefits. So why not enjoy them every once in a while?"

she furrows her eyebrows, clearly disapproving his way of thinking. Her face flashes a look of disappointment that he did not consider her words.

"Whatever The Prince says," she states, huffing with disdain.

That little remark was uncalled for, but she does have a point.

He chuckles and sighs, "but fine. I suppose I could... curb my behaviour. As a gesture of my... appreciation of your honestly," He extends a hand with a smirk, eyes twinkling with humour. "would you care to dance?"

Dance?

Her eyes widen, she stills. Her eyes dart around the room frantically.

"What? You're not afraid of the Prince's dancing, are you? Or are you... afraid of me?" Aegon's eyes twinkle yet again. His grin spreading across his face with amusement.

Her eyebrows furrow again, annoyed. "Scared of you?" she scoffs.

"I simply cannot. I am on duty," She states firmly, looking prideful as ever.

He frowns.

"Oh, please," He chuckles. "Come on now, Commander. Surely you can make a little time for this... Prince?" His voice drops to a murmur as his tone turns flirtatiously.

"You might even learn something," Aegon steps closer to her, "or maybe, I'll learn something about you," He steps even closer, his voice a whisper and his eyes dancing.

She stutters, trying to come up with another excuse.

He steps closer still, his face inches from hers. She can feel his breath against her skin.

"Are you... intimidated?" His voice drops to a whisper.

He puts one hand on her chin and smiles.

"Or is this exciting you?" His eyes dancing darting between hers and her lips. He smirks softly, noting her features in his head.

She steps away quickly, clearing her throat. "Fine. We will dance. Just this once," She says pointedly, failing to quickly come up with another excuse.

Aegon smiles, "perfect, Commander,"

He extends a hand and leads her to the dance floor. He places his left hand on her hip, his right hand holding hers. His eyes twinkling and his voice filled with confidence as he speaks.

"So," Aegon holds up his chin, a proud grin on his face. "How should this dance go? Do you teach me your steps or do I take the lead?"

Her eyes dart around the room as she grows more conscious of the eyes of nobles and ladies in the room. She feels small and uneasy.

"I..." She trails off, not knowing if she should admit it to him.

"I don't know how to dance.." Her voice merely a whisper.

His jaw drops, his smug grin melting into a stunned look. He stares at her and shakes his head.

"You don't?" He laughs quietly and pulls her close. As he starts dancing, his smile still wide and genuine.

"Oh Commander, you are full of surprises," He chuckles. "I'll teach you how, but you must do your best to follow my lead, alright? Is that a deal? No excuses," He smiles.

she finally looks at him, face still reluctant. She nods her head briefly.

He smiles, leading her into his steps, gently but purposefully, guiding her in the dance.

"There. Not that hard is it?" He chuckles and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The two of them begin dancing. Aegon's confidence clear in both his face and his movements. He lowers his head to look at her.

She tried her best to follow his lead, the white cloak of her armour swaying elegantly with their movements. She huffs, anxious at the attention they have of the room. All eyes are on them.

"Pay them no mind, Commander. It is just you and me here," Aegon's voice is soft, delicate. It was completely out of character. His gentleness and focus on her caught them both by surprise. Aegon never knew he was capable of chivalry quite like this. His eyes never left hers. His hold strong and unwavering.

She finds her confidence once more, her steps more precise and swift. Her eyes look up into his, she couldn't help but observe his features. The indicative violet orbs staring right back at her.

The music seemed to die down as she feels his breath on her. She swore she could hear his heart thumping in his chest. The distance between them was almost non-existent.

Applause.

She heard hands clapping as Aegon brings them to a slow stop. The music must have ended. How long had it been? She could not remember.

Aegon's eyes grow soft, a small smile on his lips. He feels her pull away, feeling the lack of warmth from her body so close to his. He yearns to feel it again. This time, he is determined.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #fem!reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd x reader #house of dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd fic #game of thrones #got

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visenya-den · 2 years

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SYRAX, DRAGON OF PRINCESS RHAENYRA house of the dragon, episode 1 season 1.

#house of dragon #syrax #king's landing #landscape #dragons #got #asoiaf #asoiafedit #hotdedit #hotd #dragon #targaryen #fireandblood #preasoiafsource #hotdgifs #gifs #fantasy

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christophernolan · 2 years

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The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. 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.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 1.08 | Lord of the Tide

#house of dragon #hotdedit #hotdcentral #targaryensource #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys i targaryen #alicent hightower #jacaerys velaryon #haelena targaryen #otto hightower #*#gifs

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viktoriakosci666 · 2 years

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I'm sorry, but the books make the Daemon vs Aemond debate really easy for me.

Daemon cheats on Rhaenyra with Nettles, and when Rhaenyra sends a letter to Daemon, he says "a queen's words, a whores work'. He then flies to fight Aemond without further word for Rhaenyra or his daughters and sons.

Aemond kisses his wife, Alys Rivers, and then flies to fight Daemon.

#anti daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #asoiaf #house of dragon #alys rivers #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #anti daemyra

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anakiinx · 2 months

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Rhys Ifans as Otto Hightower - House of the Dragon 1.09 - “The Green Council”

#otto hightower #rhys ifans #house of dragon #welighttheway #dailyhotdgifs #hotdedit #bymiranda #hotd #gameofthronesdaily

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damn-stark · 11 months

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Chapter 6 City of stars

Chapter 6 of Moonlight

A/N- Cregan would've let her compete in the tourney

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, talks of blood, blades, suggested nfsw, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW MONTHS BACK. WINTERFELL*

“…Have a marvelous name day my sweet, sweet girl. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you.

Your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

You smile after you finish rereading the letter your mother sent you without fault. She even managed to have it arrive in the morning, along with a present, and Aemond can’t even do that.

So much for a friend and betrothed. He sucks.

What if he’s seeing some other girl?!

Well two can play at that game.

“Princess!” Cregan calls just as you started thinking about him.

You look up from the letter and flash him a beaming grin. “Lord Stark,” you greet back and bow your head.

And as always he rolls his eyes at your formality since it’s just him—well him and the singer to the side of the Heart tree you sit against.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” Cregan asks as he slowly approaches you.

You lift the letter and wave it in the air. “Reading what my mother sent me. Again,” you share. “And listening to this singer.” You tilt your head and narrow your eyes on the Lord. “Care to join?” You ask in a sneaky way so the singer won’t find this interaction suspicious and snitch to the Queen for some coin.

Cregan smiles softly. “Who am I to deny a Princess on her name day.”

When he’s by you he throws his cloak back to sit beside you. “What does your mother say?” He asks.

You sigh and look down at the letter. “She just wished me a happy name day, and sent her love. And she sent me this pretty dress.” You put the letter down to stand up and show him the pretty soft purple silk dress that your mother sent.

Cregan looks you up and down, paying close attention to the cuts on the sides that exposed your ribs, and then letting his eyes linger on your chest as the dress has a deep v neckline before he lastly smirks up at you.

You grow flustered as you see how dilated his pupils grow, but you still spin around to show him how flowy the bottom of the dress is, and how the long sleeves that drape off your arms twirl around you.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” Cregan compliments as you fall back at his side.

You beam at him and then whisper. “Thank you, my love.”

Cregan leans towards your ear and sneaks a comment that catches your breath. “I can’t wait to rip it off you later.”

You turn your head and meet his gaze to counter with another flirty commit. “And I cannot wait to feel you inside me.”

Cregan glances at your lips and draws in a deep breath as he’s unable to kiss you here and now. “You drive me mad woman.” He sneers against your lips.

You shoot him a smirk and pull back cockily, but don’t leave him craving your touch, you slide your hand close to his and hook your pinky around his.

“I wish I could see her again,” you change the subject so the singer won’t grow suspious. “I miss her.”

Cregan sighs and pulls his pinky away from yours to instead interlace his fingers with yours. “You will soon enough. I promise. But now, darling princess, don’t grow glum. Celebrate that the gods have gifted you another year of life.”

You sniffle and turn to meet his grey eyes with a faint smile. Cregan sneaks a gentle caress on your cheek before he lets your hand go and stands up.

“Dance with me,” he says and offers you his hand. “You said you didn’t want a feast so you owe me this dance. Singer, sing a happier song to dance to.”

The corner of your lips tug to a grin whilst you grab his hand, and let him pull you up as the singer does as Cregan says.

“They’ll see,” you warn him as you slide your other hand to his shoulder, while he slides one hand to grab your waist.

“Let them,” Cregan brushes off your worry. “I’m merely dancing with my best friend on her name day. Is that so bad?”

You shrug as you let him move you to the beat. “I guess not, Lord Stark.”

Cregan snickers and rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he counters jokingly.

——

*NOW. KING’S LANDING*

It’s been a month since the last time you’ve kissed Aemond. A month. Not for lack of trying, he gives you kisses on the cheek, on the forehand, and his favorite place is your knuckles. It’s just everytime you think about kissing him, Cregan comes to mind and you feel like you’re betraying him, and it aches your heart.

But feeling that ache, that sense of betrayal also brings you anguish because of Aemond, he’s been so kind now that you’ve broken that tension. Even if of course his mother keeps getting in the way for some reason. She’s like tree sap, no matter how much you try to get it off it continues to stick, and when you think you got rid of all of it, it’s still there being an inconvenience.

It’s a miracle she isn’t here at the tourney holding Aemond’s hand.

But anyway, feeling guilty about Cregan only adds more guilt about Aemond. It’s all tearing your mind apart.

Maybe you should stop writing to Cregan; you’ve thought of it. It would make your attempts to stop thinking about him easier…but you can’t do that, he’s still your friend and…you still…love him—

But you want to be faithful to Aemond, you want to love him as much as you do Cregan. He deserves that.

So how do you let go of one to embrace the other?

Death by dragonfire would be a simple solution. Or a lance through your heart.

Maybe one of these fine knights competing can do it.

Too bad you can’t fucking compete. Thanks Queen Alicent and Aemond.

“…Today we celebrate in honor of Prince Aemond Targaryen engagement to Princess Y/N Velaryon!” Aegon announces, or rather reminds the crowd since he’s already tipsy off his wine, and the crowd cheers.

You look over at Aemond and offer him a smile before you wrap your hand around his. He then places his thumb over your hand to begin caressing your skin.

“Now, Princess, honor us by choosing the next challengers,” Aegon says and turns to look at you.

It’s such a pity that choosing is all you can do.

“All right,” you sigh and stand up to approach the balcony’s railing, getting a closer look of all the competing Knights lined up against the wall.

It’s hard to know which one is the best, you don’t know any of these knights that you see before you. You recognize the house sigils some carry on their shield, but that’s about it. So you have to base your choice off the horse and your own curiosity.

“Him,” you point to the Knight at the right end of the line with no sigil on his shield. “And him,” you point to the man in the middle with the house sigil of a small house from the Riverlands.

“Come forward and state your names,” the announcer instructs.

Both knights walk forward and the others disperse. While the knight from the Riverlands takes his helmet off and states his name you share a playful smirk with Aegon, before you look back show it to Aemond who remains sitting so stocily.

“And I am Ser Alyn of Hull,” the second Knight's name catches your immediate attention and makes you face him. That’s when you notice that he has silver-white hair as well just like yours, his skin is dark, and his eyes are darker.

“You come from Driftmark?” You ask curiously as you lean closer.

Ser Alyn grins and his smile doesn’t fail to intrigue you. He has a very nice smile. He’s actually quite good looking too.

“Yes,” Ser Alyn responds. “I'm merely a bastard with no importance albeit.”

You hum and smile softly. “We’ll see about that won’t we, Ser Alyn of Hull? Best fortunate to you.”

The bastard Knight lets his eyes linger on you before he puts his helmet back on and has his horse stride away, letting you return to your seat.

“5 dragons on the Riverlands knight,” Aegon whispers to you as sits back down in between you and Helaena who is forced to be here.

You then glance at him and pretend to scoff in horror. “I’m a Lady. I don’t bet.”

Aegon groans. “10 then.”

You roll your eyes ahead and watch Ser Alyn. “That’s better. 10 on Ser Alyn.” You twist your wrist to spread your palm out.

And without looking Aegon smacks it lightly to commit to the bet. You then smile softly, and as both Knights start you lean towards Aemond.

“Who do you think will win?” You ask as you wrap your hands around his bicep; which is much easier to grab than Cregan’s.

Cregan has a lot of muscle…

“Hm,” Aemond hums, and you feel his gaze on you as you focus on the jousting—“I don’t follow much jousting,” he says.

You roll your eyes over to him and press him sweetly. “Indulge me, Aemond, please.”

Aemond holds your gaze and exhales deeply before he drifts his attention to the match. “I suppose…Ser Alyn. He has the strength advantage.”

You hum and follow his line of gaze, seeing at that moment Ser Alyn throw the other Knight off his horse after breaking his shield in half.

Which is why you jump up to your feet and clap for Ser Alyn along with the clamoring crowd. Right away the knight faces you and bows, making you grin.

His reign ends soon though and the others are brought forward to compete. And even if you couldn’t join; even if you aren’t actually good, you pay attention to all the matches and become 100 golden dragon coins richer because Aegon sucks at betting. All while Aemond’s hand basks you with warmth the entire time. You whisper to one another like a newlywed couple—well he just listened to you most of the time, but regardless, it’s like now that you can show affection to each other you actually take advantage of the opportunity. Even if the advantage is small.

Plus Cregan doesn’t come to mind this time.

“Would you compete in my honor?” You whisper to Aemond as the last pair of jousters approach. “I would like you more if you did.”

Aemond blinks and meets your gaze, making your smirk deepen. He sighs as the corner of his lips twitch to a smile. “If you ask it of me I would,” he reveals, making your heart skip a beat. “And I would make sure to win every single match. I’d kill if I had to.”

Oh, that’s a little intense but you do love it. It…causes you to grow flustered and warm to the point all you can do is smile before you press a kiss on his cheek.

Aemond’s smile softens very faintly, and he raises your hand to bring your knuckles to his lips so he can press a gentle kiss on them.

“I would like to ask the favor of The Realm’s Golden Girl, Princess Y/N Velaryon.”

You turn your attention to the match and notice that it’s the Knight that calls himself the Stranger, because he has no house sigil on his shield either. And from what you’ve seen he’s not so terrible, he’s made it to the last round of competitors.

“Unmask yourself in presence of the princess, Ser,” the announcer orders as you approach the railing with a flower crown in hand.

When the knight unmasks himself you freeze and gasp as you recognize Ser Rolf; your mutual friend with Cregan.

But he didn't tell you he was coming like you asked him to.

“Ser Rolf,” you announce before he can. “What a pleasure.” You slowly grin at him.

“The pleasure is mine, Princess,” he says with formality you don’t recognize.

“Good luck, my friend,” you end this short since there’s only so much you can say. But you let your gaze last on his face as you throw the flower crown on his lance.

Rolf shoots you a kind smile before he bows his head and walks off. And in the surprise of seeing your friend, you didn't even notice he was jousting against Ser Alyn until you spotted him putting on his helmet. Albeit now that he’s competing against your friend you don’t care if he’s from Driftmark anymore, you want Ser Rolf to win.

“You know him?” Aemond asks the moment you take your seat.

Without looking at him you nod. “He’s a friend from Winterfell,” you say.

You can feel Aemond’s gaze on you, it lingers, but you don’t bother paying attention, you clutch onto his hand and watch as both Knights charge at each other. Ser Alyn goes in for a jab at the shield, but Ser Rolf manages to swerve and instead hit the side of Ser Alyn’s shield so hard that it falls from his hands

You smile softly, but you’re too overwhelmed with worry that your smile quickly fades and your grip around Aemond’s arm tightens.

Is that who sent you that note he wonders? That funny looking ginger commoner? You seem so worried that it has to be.

He’ll ask you later and hopefully get the truth, as of now he watches you as you sit up straighter and lean forward as they go again.

You almost close your eyes as they approach each other again, but you manage to keep them open and watch as Ser Alyn goes for the shoulder, but Ser Rolf ducks and hits the horse's legs, causing the horse to lose balance and knock Ser Alyn off. With that the winner of the tournament is picked, Ser Rolf!

You squeal, and quickly stand up from your seat to clap loudly to his success. Not caring if you get weird stares from the rest of the audience in the box with you, and especially not caring the look Aemond shoots you. You get swept up by your friends' success, by the crowd roaring with excitement. Ser Rolf also makes sure to turn and face you to shoot you a wink.

You beam at him and exclaim. “Whoa! Ser Rolf!”

The Northerner Knight is swept off his feet and given his winnings, he gets flowers thrown at him from the crowd. And as all the winners do, he’s given the honor to name one Lady the Queen of Love and Beauty; he’s given a flower crown to give to a Lady of his choosing, but he refuses and instead his helper for the day runs to him with a satchel.

The crowd goes quiet, and you slowly sit back down to watch with your neck stretched out and your lips slightly parted.

“I’ve brought a special one,” Ser Rolf says and proceeds to pull out a beautiful flower crown made of rare Blue Winter Roses, that are only grown in the North. He then follows by approaching the box and stops directly before you.

“I choose Princess Y/N Velaryon,” he announces, causing the crowd to boom excitedly, and for you to approach the edge to take the beautiful flower crown from his hand.

“Thank you, my friend,” you tell him with a soft smile and a watery gaze since you know what this means. They’re from Cregan. Rolf wouldn't go out of his way to bring a crown of his own if it wasn’t because of his friend Cregan.

But why? Why now? It was a small moment, but you were doing good, you weren’t thinking about him, about his lips, above his love and kisses. Now he’s all you can think about. That and your guilt.

Why did he have to send you this flower crown made from the flower that has a deep meaning in your relationship? Not only that but hidden around one of the stems is a note you can’t dare read now. It’s like he wants you to go mad with a confusion that shouldn't even exist because fate is made.

“Are you all right?” The sound of Aemond’s voice right by your ear startles you.

You quickly place the flower crown on your head and turn to face him now standing behind you. “Yes, just touched. Blue winter roses are the most beautiful flowers in the seven kingdoms, so I’m flattered.”

Aemond tries to read you, but you smile at him and hook your arm around his. “Why don’t we head home now?” You suggest. “I know how much these social outings exhaust you.” You tease him.

Aemond scoffs lightheartedly, but he lets you lead him away. Albeit you’re quickly stopped by Aegon before you can step out of the box.

“Where are you two going? There’s a feast now! Let’s go!”

He’s incredibly drunk.

“Well I'm quite exhausted,” you lie. “But you go.”

Aegon gasps and then turns to look at his brother by you. “Come on brother! Let me show you some fun before you’re married!”

You slide your eyes to Aemond, and he glances at you before addressing Aegon. “I want to walk her home. You go.” He says.

“Boo!” Aegon exclaims and stumbles towards you and Aemond. “Come on! Just for a bit.”

You exhale and roll your eyes, but Aemond lets you go and steps towards his brother. “Go, walk with Helaena. I’ll walk Aegon to the feast.”

You part your lips to argue, but he wouldn’t listen so it would be like arguing to a wall. “Fine,” you grumble. “Have fun.”

Before you can turn, Aemond adds one more thing. “Meet me at the gardens when you arrive. I’ll meet you there.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile and you nod in comprehension before Helaena and you leave.

Albeit when you arrive you wait where he asked, but he never comes.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

“Congratulations my darling love. I know you’ll be a beautiful bride. - Cregan”

You weren’t going to read the hidden note, you decided it wasn’t the best option for your already battling mind. But Aemond left you stranded so you did it.

However, now that you’ve read it maybe it was a mistake after all. Because why would he say that?

Maybe you’re just overthinking it, it’s just a harmless comment—but to you it means everything, it brings him back to the front of your mind. Those simple words make you doubt your marriage to Aemond, especially because he failed to do as he said and for what? Another woman? A feast?

You want to be Cregan’s wife, you want to get married under the red leaves of the Weirwood tree, before the old gods. Because at least with Cregan you know you won’t be miserable, he’ll love only you, and Aemond?

He said he loved you only after you asked him to say it. He stands you up without an explanation. With Aemond there’s no security, no way to know if you’ll avoid living in what you fear; misery.

But then again the not knowing excites you with Aemond, he excites you. Being loved in public without having to hide from the world fills you with joy. And yes it wasn’t Cregan's fault you had to hide, but you did and now having Aemond do the opposite excites you.

IT'S ALL SO CONFUSING!!

You sigh and throw the note in the fire, you watch the fire eat it away with tears rolling down your cheeks. When it’s nothing but ash you turn and shrug your robe off your body to walk to the steaming bath.

“It’s too hot Princess,” Vanessa warns and rushes over to try and stop you, but you step in the heated water and don’t pay any mind to how hot it is. The heat has just never bothered you, no matter how hot it is.

“It’s okay,” you brush off her concern and sink your body into the water until the point the water floats around your neck. “Bring me some wine.”

Vanessa hesitates, but she then does as she’s told, letting you add on.

“And maybe just dunk my head in the water and don’t pull me out until I stop moving,” you deadpan and wipe away the stain of tears with the hot water.

Vanessa lets out a nervous laugh. “That’s very funny.”

That was a very serious request.

A knock raps on the door stealing Vanessa’s attention just before she can bring the wine.

You try to peek at who it was, but you can’t see from the tub, and when you try to hear, the visitor is too quiet. So you wait until Vanessa walks to you with a flagon and a cup of wine.

“Who is it?” You ask her.

The corner of her lips tug to a smirk and she whispers in your ear as she sets the things down on the table beside you. “Prince Aemond.”

Here comes the pity apology.

“Let him in,” you tell her without caring that he’d see you nude in the tub. Hey, maybe he can join you.

So as Vanessa walks off to let Aemond in you grab your goblet and begin to chug the damn thing, only knowing Aemond’s inside by the sound of his heels clicking on the floor. He also then lets out a soft groan and shifts, letting you know he was now nearby.

“You could’ve told me to return,” Aemond mutters.

You set the goblet down and glance over at him, seeing he has his back turned to avoid seeing you indecent before marriage. What a gentleman.

“You could have the decency to at least change after being with someone else,” you say bluntly as you begin to serve yourself more wine. “Or you know at least come visit me the next day.”

Yes you don’t have the right to be jealous, but he is your betrothed, he is your future husband, he’s yours not theirs.

“I could say something similar about your friend from the tournament,” Aemond counters back quickly and sneaks a glance at you from the corner of his eye.

You snap your gaze over to him and slowly put the goblet down before you begin laughing at his comment. “Rolf?” You say and shake your head. “No. He’s just a friend. When Lord Cregan tried to take his throne from his uncle Ser Rolf became my protector.” You smile softly at the thought of your friend, and then lean on the side of the tub to watch Aemond with a playful smile as the thought of him being jealous makes you cocky, but also makes your heart flutter.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

Aemond just peers over his shoulder and you see how hard he avoids actually looking at the rest of you.

“Aemond,” you keep trying. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Aemond exhales deeply before he slowly turns and meets your gaze with the eyepatch still over his sapphire eye.

“Take it off,” you refer to the eyepatch.

His gaze lowers and he slowly pulls the leather eyepatch off and places it on the table with your wine. As the gem gleams with the firelight’s touch you smile softly at him. “Now come here,” you continue to order. “Please.”

Aemond hesitates, but he slowly approaches you, making sure to avoid looking at your body and only holding your gaze. When he crouches beside you, you take his hand to play with his long fingers.

“Ser Rolf if just a friend,” you assure him, knowing well he’s not the one he should worry about. “He’s married to some workers daughter and is expecting a little babe.” You smile softly and rest your chin on his hand. “Or what? I can’t have friends?”

Aemond’s gaze falls to your body under the water, making you smirk. Before he meets your gaze again he clears his throat and shakes his head. “I’d rather you not.” He rebuttals.

You chuckle and roll your eyes as you push yourself away from him. “I’ll still have them.” You counter.

Aemond sighs. “I know. You were always one to defy what was expected of you.”

You begin to twirl the water around with your finger and snicker. “It’s always been fun. It’s boring being so…uptight and such a stickler for rules. You’ve never liked that. So what?” You chuckle. “You don’t like me?”

You pout and feign to be sad while you make sure to fiddle with the ring he gifted you.

Aemond swallows thickly and parts his lips, but doesn’t move at all to answer, so you continue to mess with him. “Or,” you whisper softly. “Does that excite you about me?” You smile sweetly and tease him more as his gaze wonders on your body. “What?” You tease him and twist around to give him a better view of your chest. “Do you want to join me?”

Aemond draws in a deep breath and gets ready to answer, but you cut him off sharply. “Tell me who you were with and I’ll consider it. She better be a beautiful creature.”

Now Aemond is the one that chuckles, making your heart throb; you’ve always liked the sound of his laugh.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he contradicts you. “Trust me. No one has ever compared to you. No one in this world ever will.”

Your face burns, and you now long for him, desire his lips on yours.

“I was taking care of Aegon,” Aemond continues. “He was drunk already, I couldn’t let him go to the feast without knowing he was fine.”

You hum softly, and now you don’t even dare doubt him because you know he’s being honest. You’ve also known that he’s always been so worried about the others instead of just being worried about himself. He isn’t the youngest from his siblings, his brother Daeron holds that title, but Aemond isn’t the eldest, he shouldn't be the one worried.

“Oh Aemond,” you whisper and push yourself to his side again to cup his cheek. “You’re always so worried about your family, but who worries about you?”

Aemond blinks in disbelief and parts his lips as a soft breath escapes his lips. You proceed to caress his face and offer him a soft smile and a loving look.

“I can take care of you,” you whisper against his lips.

Aemond’s eye softens, and you begin to kiss him slowly on his lips, he then cradles your face and begins to caress your cheeks as he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. He actually deepens the kiss, making sure not to let you pull away for too long, he leans in closer as if you were going to get away. He only pulls back to murmur.

“I love you. More than anything.”

You offer him a soft smile, but you can’t repeat those words to him. Not with your heart still attached to Cregan. “Me too,” you assure him softly. “More than anything.”

Aemond doesn’t ask for more, he smiles and begins kissing you again. And this time without having to be told he begins to undress himself, you help desperately, but he soon manages to steal your breath away as you see him for the first time, so toned and beautiful.

His muscles aren’t as large as Cregan’s, but Aemond still had so much detail in his muscles, his back was the most impressive, it looked so soft, so strong. The way his long silver hair drapes over it so elegantly makes him even more beautiful. He’s so beautiful. Every part about him.

It’s why you let him take you there in the bathtub without waiting until you were married. He was so gentle and caring, rough but you didn’t care you indulged it.

Even when you were finished he didn’t turn cold, he didn’t leave, he stayed with you and let you take care of him…

Just as—No you won’t say it, you can’t compare them.

Aemond lay between your legs, and rests his head on your chest, letting you braid his hair.

“So,” you whisper playfully. “You'd kill for me?”

Aemond begins caressing your knee with his fingers and nods softly. “Who wouldn’t?”

You smile softly as you rest his braid over his shoulder. “I’d kill for you too, you know. I would have before, 5 years ago.”

Aemond freezes, so you wrap your arms around his neck and lean on his shoulder.

“I’m good with a sword,” you show off and see him meet your gaze from the corner of his eye.

The corner of his lips pull to a smirk before he retorts. “Why is that? Because of all the time you spent watching from the shadows.”

You grin and nod. “Exactly. I just dont show it because i have to keep up appearances, you know I’m a Princess. Daughter of the heir, and granddaughter of a King. I can’t bounce around the castle like some penniless explorer…or so my Septa would say.” You scoff.

Aemond hums and then twists his body around to face you with a serious expression. “Is that why you don’t fight for your right on the throne?”

You blink in surprise and question him with a nervous chuckle. “What?”

Aemond sighs. “You are the eldest. Daughter of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. You are the heir, not…your brother.”

Why this sudden topic? You stopped thinking about that ever since you met Cregan.

“You’re being robbed right under you and you don’t try to fight it,” Aemond adds with a rising anger you don’t even feel. “Why is that?”

You part your lips but nothing comes out but a huff of air as you’re left flabbergasted by this topic.

“Because you’re keeping up appearances. I know you’re no fool, even if you act it in front of others,” Aemond continues to say as he turns around completely to take your hands and hold your narrowed gaze.

You shake your head and finally find words to share. “I don’t fight it because it was chosen that way. My grandsire Corly’s wanted Jacaerys to be heir, and my mother didn’t want to burden me with what she was burdened with…” you pause and shrug. “I cared, but that’s past me now. I don’t want it.” You swallow thickly and lean forward.

“I’ve seen a fraction of what happens to families who fight for their right,” you add softly. “Lord Cregan fought his uncle because he didn’t want to give Cregan what was rightfully his. It breaks families apart, it’s chaos.” You scoff. “I don’t want that. I love my family, I'm content with Jacaerys being heir.”

Aemond’s eyebrows furrow and he snaps back. “But he's a…” he trails off and presses his lips together.

But he doesn’t need to finish his sentence to know what he was going to say; bastard. He was going to call Jacaerys a bastard. It upsets you, but there’s no need arguing over something he didn’t finish saying, over something that only adds fuel to that fire.

So you just exhale and pull your hands away from Aemond’s. “Let’s not speak on this matter anymore,” you mutter and hold his gaze with a pointed glare. “If you love me you’ll be content with my choice. Respect it, please.”

Aemond holds your gaze and doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t move, he just exhales deeply before he nods stiffly and turns around to stay between your legs.

The fact that he was going to call Jacaerys a bastard annoyed you, it still threatens to piss you off even if you say you’re over it for the sake of peace, adding tension between Aemond and you.

It was going so good too for Seven’s sake.

But no! You can’t let it affect you. Don’t let the storm ravel. Don’t let it.

“You know what I was thinking?” You bring up to avoid having a storm within you ravel you in its clutches.

Aemond hums.

You lean your lips by his ear and whisper. “We should get married the day after tomorrow. Not under the faith of the seven, but a Valyrian wedding. Something small.”

That and well you do want to spite Alicent. She said no to your request for 6 months, and she thinks she has the upper hand over Aemond. You’ll prove her wrong.

Aemond’s shoulders fall and he argues, but without much energy, like if he actually agrees. “What about my mother? She’s been planning our wedding.”

You nod softly. “Yes, but it’s all stuff we can cancel, she won’t mind. Besides it’s our duty as Valyrian’s, we aren’t just any normal person. We’re Targaryens with the blood of old Valyria running through our veins.”

Aemond looks back at you and adds on more concern. “And what about your family? Don’t you want them to be here?”

You shrug. “It would be ideal, but they won’t mind. Besides, it will just be small and quick. No feast, no dinners before the day, just us and the one marrying us.”

Aemond studies you closely and continues to question you. “I won’t miss a feast, but will you? You won’t wear your dress, and you like to steal the attention.”

You giggle and shrug. “I’ll still have a pretty dress under the robe. And the only attention I want is yours. Perhaps if our families got along well then I wouldn’t mind a big feast, but I don’t want problems. Just us. Helaena can be our witness, along with Vhagar and Astraea.” You shoot him a smirk.

Without thinking more about it Aemond nods. “All right,” he gives in.

You flash him a beaming grin and throw your hands around him to lean in and press kisses on his cheek. “<I love you,>” you say in High Valyrian because right now it doesn’t hold the same meaning as when you say it in the common tongue.

Aemond doesn't know that, he thinks you’re being sincere and smiles softly. And that smile, that simple gesture does push you to feeling more than just affection and desire, it pushes you closer to feeling actual love.

“<I love you too,>” Aemond says back in High Valyrian. “<More than anything. I’ll talk to my mother.>”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Aemond peers back with a smirk. “Anything else?”

You lift your head and nod. “Actually yes.” You exhale deeply and begin to frown with sadness. “What if we leave for Dragonstone. Live our lives there.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you anticipate what he’s going to say.

“I can’t…leave my mother with my father being so sick,” he says, making you let out a shaky sigh.

It’s understandable truly, you want to be with your grandfather when any day can be his last. But the quicker you’re out of here, the quicker you’re out of the judgmental watch of the Queen and her court. Besides, you want to reunite with your mother, but no. You can’t leave.

“After then?” You insist and bat your eyelashes.

Aemond exhales and watches you for a moment before he surprises you by nodding in agreement. “Your mother gave you Dragonstone to inherit,” he says. “Perhaps out of pity or just genuine love, it doesn’t matter, but you are the princess of Dragonstone. It will be ours to rule. It’s our right. Besides, your mother will come here, the rest of your family will follow, so it will be ours to take.”

You begin to smile slowly out of disbelief because honestly you didn’t think he’d want to. Even if it was decided you would rule over Dragonstone before.

“Okay,” you nod. “Good.” You grin and whisper one more time. “Good.”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Nervous?” Aemond asks as you reach the door to his fathers chambers because you suggested talking to the both of them. Mostly because if your grandfather was able to pay more attention today, he’d agree and have his word would overpower Alicent’s.

“No,” you admit the truth. “I’m ready.”

Aemond nods and raps his fist on the door and then waits. But you only wait for a few seconds because he then opens the door and walks you in with him.

As always the room smelled of different medicinal incense, besides the soft clicking heels that approach, there’s silence.

“Aemond,” Alicent calls out before she steps past the sheer curtains that block the sight of your grandfather. “Y/N.”

You offer her a strained smile and do a small curtsy. “Your Grace,” you greet her. When you straighten up you share a passing glance with Aemond before he gets to the point.

“As I mentioned before we’ve come here to talk to you and father.”

“Is he awake?” You interject and try to sneak a glance past the sheer curtains.

Alicent’s gaze lingers on Aemond for a second longer with a tight lip before she blinks and nods. “He is, come.”

You hesitate where you stand and look up at Aemond to share a sweet smile. He mirrors it and leans down to press a kiss on your forehead before he grabs one of your braids and fiddles with the golden cuff that decorates it. You don’t say anything to each other, you just hold each other's gazes and share a loving look before you walk after Alicent hand in hand.

“Your son Aemond, and your granddaughter have come to visit you, my love,” Alicent lets your grandfather know close to his ear so he’d hear. “They’ve come to speak to us.”

Your grandfather drags his gaze to the both of you and lingers on your figures for a moment in silence, before he solely focuses on Aemond and mutters, “Aemond?”

You swallow thickly and flicker your gaze away as Alicent nods and reassures him. “Yes, your son.”

You peer over at Aemond and watch him swallow thickly whilst he shuffles back away from the bedside. He watches his father with his eye wide from slight disbelief and a mix of pity. So you tighten your hold around his hand and then sit down at your grandfather's bedside.

“Grandsire,” you input yourself hoping he’d recognize you better. “It’s me y/n, and Aemond.” You offer him a gentle smile and let go of Aemond’s hand to grab your grandfather's clammy one.

Said man albeit takes a moment before he parts his lips. “Ah, yes. Have you come to read to me today?”

You smile wider and shake your head. “Not today. That’s for tomorrow.” You let out a deep breath and glance once at Alicent before focusing on the man before you and continuing with what you want. “We’ve come to ask something from both you and Queen Alicent….Aemond and I wish to marry tomorrow in a Valyrian style wedding.”

“What?” Alicent gasps softly and steps towards her son. “But the wedding is a month away. Surely you can wait. Everything is almost prepared.”

You blink and then proceed to look up at Alicent with a feigned smile. Just as you were going to argue Aemond interjects for the both of you. “We don’t wish to have feasts or a grand crowd of strangers watching, it’s you and the court who wants that, not us. We want something intimate, something that follows our Valyrian traditions not that of strangers.”

Alicent’s face begins to twist in disbelief to her son's defiance to her wishes, to what had been expected of him. She then slides her eyes to you and her gaze narrows in a manner you can’t read what she expresses, annoyance? Disbelief? Anger?

Whatever it was the Queen saw you now, in your light pink gown with the dazzling golden dragon decorating your waist. You smirk at her, and as you hold her gaze with a burning innocent gaze that burns as hot as the dragon's flame from your Targaryen family sigil, she knows that you aren’t hers to control.

You know that she knows that you aren’t at all aloof like you present yourself to be. Yet she can’t find out your angle, that you do hide well.

“What of your mother?” Alicent asks you. “Don’t you wish her to be in attendance?”

You hum softly and shrug. “She’ll understand. Now,” you cut her off and look at your grandfather again. “May we wed tomorrow? We don’t want to wait a moment longer.” You grin and look back at Aemond to grab his hand and share your delight with him. And he meets your gaze and offers you a faint smile, leaving his mother bewildered just a bit.

“Well,” your grandfather says hoarsely and looks between Aemond and you carefully. His gaze then seems to get lost past your head as if lost in thought, but you don’t press him, you wait as the other two do too.

“What’s the harm in it?” Your grandfather assures Aemond and you. “We have to uphold our Valyrian traditions before they fade away.”

You nod and then press a kiss on his knuckles. “Thank you, grandsire.” You rest his hand back on his chest, and then get up to press your hands against Aemond’s chest before you slide them to grab his biceps as you shoot him an excited grin.

Aemond holds your arms and looks at you with an enamored gaze that catches Alicent by complete surprise. Afterall she did not expect her son to be so taken away by you, her only plan was to try and turn you against your mother, but now with this twist perhaps this match was a bad idea.

——

“One flesh,” Aemond mutters to you and you mirror his words as you hold each other's gazes with faint smiles decorating both of your faces. “One heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The wedding isn’t extravagant, it’s small but filled with Valyrian traditions down from the small set up that holds what you need for today and filled with many melting candles. And up to the stuff you wear; the tan robes with red dyed edges to signify the blood, and the marvelous headgear you wear on your head.

The wedding isn’t watched by a crowd of people, of strangers. Your mother isn’t here nor are your brothers since the wedding was so sudden, but your dragon Astraea is, along with Vhagar. Helaena watches as well, the only witness you wanted, but Alicent came along too and dragged Aegon with her.

The wedding is taking place on a green cliff that overlooks the sea, at dusk to watch as the flaming horizon slowly gets invaded by the glimmering stars in the dark sky you admire so much. So it feels like your mother is here too since you share the same enormous sky, so it feels like your father watches too from whatever heaven he may find himself to be.

The wedding is beyond perfect, and today, right now as you stand before Aemond holding his gaze, watching the blue sapphire in his eye socket glimmer, you feel it. You feel genuine, true love for Aemond. The love you hold for Cregan will never fade, it’s still very much alive, but today Aemond is all you can think about.

Not even the pain registers as he cuts your bottom lip with a sharp dragonglass blade. You just think about how he’s making your heart swoon, how happy you feel now as he gently daps his thumb on your bleeding lip to collect a blood drop, and then use that to paint a Valyrian fire glyph on your forehead.

You offer him an awestruck smile, and grab the dragonglass blade from his hand to cut his bottom lip too. “Sorry,” you whisper since you knew it hurt.

Aemond offers you a gentle smile as he wipes the blood that pokes out of your bottom lip with his thumb, and shakes his head to assure you it’s fine. So you proceed to dab some blood on your thumb to paint the Valyrian blood glyph on his forehead.

“<Now,” the Septon says in High Valyrian. “Cut your palms to let your blood mix together and unify as one.>”

Since you have the dragonglass blade already you use it to cut a straight line down your palm first. When you hand Aemond the blade he does the same, letting you hold each other's hands and do as the Septon said, mix your blood to unify as one. One flesh.

The blood drips in a goblet and when the bleeding slows the septon grabs the goblet and hands it to Aemond first so he can take a drink as he speaks gently. “<Blood of two, joined as one.>”

Aemond hands you the goblet and you take a drink of the blood, finding it bitter the moment it touches your tongue.

“<Ghostly flame and song of shadows,” the Septon continues to say. “Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires.>”

After you put the cup down you cup Aemond’s cheek and caress his scar under his eye, whilst he cups your other cheek and caresses the scar on your cheek. You smile at each other, watch each other lovingly as if no one else surrounds you. You share one heart.

“<A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.>” The septon finishes saying, letting you both proceed to utter the same vow as before, but in High Valyrian this time.

“<One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.>”

Aemond offers you a soft smile as he glances at your lips. You glance at his before you lean in and join as one.

When you pull apart it’s only so you can tell him one thing. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips, making him smile wider. “Now and forever.” And you mean it this time, genuinely mean it from the bottom of your racing heart.

“I love you,” Aemond says while he strokes your bottom lip. “Now and forever.”

You beam at him and then pull him in a deep passionate kiss this time that continues to mix the blood on your lips.

A/N- Y/N & Daemon making the Hightower’s life a living hell 🫱🏽‍🫲🏻 also considering how Aemond’s side of the family is, hearing y/n say I love you was probably the first time he heard it :(:

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton

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