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hotchfiles · 7 hours

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— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

he knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. what he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. he had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

“darling? what–what are these?” he asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. you’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. it always worked.

normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

“what’s the only thing i asked of you, aaron?” you don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. he was so tired. “i know, i’m sorry–”

“answer the question, please.”

“don’t make promises i can’t keep.” he takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. that’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. if you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

first months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

he watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

this was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. all the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. just–teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

“we saved two girls today.” low blow. but it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. to save two thirteen year old girls. not some futile reason. it had to count for something.

“i’m proud of you for that, aaron. are you proud of me? for the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” you raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

you always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

“that’s not what i said–”

“i know what you said. you want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. that’s not how it works.” you open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “i want you to leave.”

“you know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” sore spot. you were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. but he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

“how am i a child?” you begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “we had an agreement. you broke it. am i a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

he knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “i said you’re acting like a child. the one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “see? proving my point.”

“how many times do i have to accept you screwing up so i can be seen as mature?” you yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “same times as haley? how many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

lower blow.

hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “i’m not leaving.” you wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

his eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

damn you for choosing wine.

hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

you melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. and you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

a pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

his lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “i love you, so, so much”. his declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “please don’t make me leave after this.” it comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

“just shut up and take your pants off.”

“you know i can only do one of those.” it makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

on the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. he drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

“fuck—oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” it isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

you kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. you enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by aaron’s calloused fingers. you arch your back and moan loudly, “fuck, yes, and move.”

it feels like an order and for hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

“honey, fuck—please…” his begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

“aaron—i’m… fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

the praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

“yeah? like this?” the way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

his movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “yes, fuck—“ you’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

he would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “i can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” his lasts broken words before letting himself go.

you don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

“aaron?”

“yes, sweetheart?”

“you can stay.” he looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “but if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, i’ll chop your dick off.”

“you like it too much to do that.” his grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “see?”

“bite me.”

“gladly.”

#lari writes sometimes #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut

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mylinguaacademy · 8 months

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13 Ways to Say "Sometimes"

Hello English learners. Welcome to a new lesson. We will look at different ways to say “sometimes”. Rich vocabulary means being able to understand all kinds of reading texts, having better listening comprehension and, of course, good speaking skills. In case you are preparing for the tests such as FCE, CAE, IELTS or similar, you will benefit a great deal from this…

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#cae #essay writing #ielts #LearnEnglishOnline #SkypeEnglishLessons #useful phrases #vocabu;lary #ways to say sometimes #writing

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hansoulo · 1 year

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Have you completely abandoned writing?

what happened to... hello? how are you? my name is?

#kidding lmao it's all good #it's cool that people are still interested in my works! I appreciate it very much #but I'm in a very different place in my life and I don't feel as compelled to create fanworks as I once did #sometimes I do feel guilty about leaving series unfinished or abandoning works but #at the end of the day I am a human being #with a very fickle attention span 🤠#I do still want to finish the series (serieses?) I started but at this point it would be for my own creative fulfillment #and not due to having an audience or feeling like it's been 'too long' since updates #if people still find joy from my writing I think that's awesome #I myself have sort of moved on though #cheers!#lari speaks #anon

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maidragoste · 5 months

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Chapter One: The Reaping

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader (I labeled it that even though Jace's backstory is different from Katniss's but he and Reader will be the star-crossed lovers of district 12)

Chapter Two

I really hope you like it because I'm so excited to write this au!

Please let me know what you think in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys entered the Victors' Village, not that he was a victor. In fact, his name had never come up in the reaping. But he and his brothers lived there since his uncle Larys took care of them after his father died in the middle of an explosion in the mines while working.

The teenager quickly quickened his pace while adjusting his grip on the only two squirrels he had brought from all the ones he had hunted during the morning with Baela, his best friend. He may not have needed to hunt for food anymore but he was one of the few people in District 12 who knew how to hunt. Some people had depended on bartering with his father to bring a plate of food to his table. His father would not have wanted him to leave those people abandoned, so every day he sneaks into the forest with Baela to look for deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, fish, or any type of edible vegetable or fruit. He always gave the best goods to Baela, after all, she had more mouths to feed with her mother, her twin sister, and her two little brothers. But the rest he exchanged with the merchants or even sometimes he practically ended up giving away his merchandise due to the low price that he was willing to accept from the families that he knew did not have enough to eat to prevent them from ending up asking for more tesserae. Uncle Larys had never told him but Jacaerys knew that he thought he was a fool for doing that.

Jacaerys hated the silence in the village but it was no surprise considering that of the twelve houses there, the only house that was being inhabited was his uncle's. Of the seventy-three Hunger Games that have been held so far, there have only been two victors from District 12 and the only one still alive is Larys Strong.

Jace hurried into the house trying to ignore the heaviness in his stomach.

“I told you Luke would throw up again this year! You owe me!” was the first thing Joffrey, his youngest brother, said when he saw him.

Lucerys, or Luke as his dad had nicknamed him, was the middle brother, and every year he had the worst time during Repairing; which was the moment when the District escort went up to the podium and then took a random piece of paper from each glass urn, one containing the names of all the boys between twelve and eighteen years old and another with the names of the girls. This was how the tributes were chosen for each Hunger Games. Like any coherent person in District 12 Luke feared being chosen as a tribute and unlike Jacaerys he could not hide his fear.

“Take this to the kitchen,” the oldest of the brothers asked, handing the squirrels to Joffrey before running to the bathroom.

When Jacaerys entered he found Luke hunched over, holding the toilet bowl. Ignoring the smell of vomit he hurried to his brother's side and with one hand began to rub soothing circles on Luke's back while the other brushed the hair from his face. He doesn't know how many minutes they stayed like this until the youngest finally stopped vomiting.

"I'm sorry, Jace" Luke apologized with a broken voice and tears on his cheeks, clearly feeling ashamed for being in the same position for another year. "I really tried."

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for," Jacaerys denied as he helped him up from the floor. "It's okay to be afraid. Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid."

"Joffrey is not afraid," the youngest murmured after cleaning his face.

Joffrey must have been the only thirteen-year-old in District 12 who wasn't horrified at the thought of his name coming up in the Reaping. Jacaerys believed it was because Joff thought he would be able to win the games just by being a relative of a victor. Also, of the three, Joff seemed to want Uncle Larys's validation and attention the most. In these three years living with him he had never told them that he loved them but Jace thought that he should at least care a little about them because otherwise he could have let the authorities take them to the community orphanage instead of taking care of them.

"I told you, an idiot," Jace said, managing to get a small laugh out of Lucerys. "Listen, Luke. Everything will be fine. You never asked for a tessera so your name is only on four pieces of paper."

In the first year when you started to be part of the Reaping, they put your name only once in the bowl. But every time you have a birthday they add another paper with your name on it. If you do not ask for any tessera then it is assumed that you will reach the age of eighteen with only seven papers.

Jacaerys always tried to reassure his brother, and also himself, saying that the chances of his name coming up were low compared to all the people who had to ask for tesserae to be able to eat.

"Lucerys, Jacaerys, start getting ready for the Reaping" Larys ordered from below. There was no need for him to shout as the house was silent.

"Take a bath, you stink" Jacaerys mocked, ruffling Lucerys's hair before leaving him in the bathroom.

"Happy Hunger Games! and may the odds be ever in your favor!" greeted Effie Trinket, the District 12 companion, with the same excitement as in previous years.

While Effie gives a speech about what an honor it is for her to be there as a companion, Jacaerys's eyes meet Baela's. She smiles at him and he struggles to return it. Baela is so brave, he doesn't know how she isn't trembling with fear knowing that her name is at least twenty times. Maybe in recent years she was no longer asking for tesserae but before Jacaerys moved in with his uncle she had.

"Ladies first!" said Effie announcing that it was time for the drawing. She approaches the urn with the girls' names and then reaches deep inside and takes out a piece of paper. You can feel the tension in the air and for a moment everyone seems to hold their breath until Effie opens the paper and I read it "Y/n Y/l!"

Shit. Jacaerys knew you. He had seen you more than once at the bakery when he went to buy or exchange his merchandise with your father. Not only that but you two share classes together at school. You weren't friends. But you were still there for his brothers when he was too devastated by the death of his father to care about anyone else. You were the one who stopped some idiots from bothering Luke at school, you were the one who helped Joffrey with his homework to prevent him from repeating a grade, and you, in the only conversation you ever shared, reminded him that he was important to the District, that his brothers needed him, that he could not abandon them, that his father would not have wanted to see him as a ghost in life, that he would have wanted him to help the people of the District.

Jace had to go say goodbye to you, his gratitude may be three years late but he needed to thank you for taking care of his brothers when he had failed them and remind him that he had a purpose.

Jacaerys watches you move towards the stage. Your posture is straight, your chin up and your steps are firm but he can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You still look pretty in your pink dress, it wasn't glamorous at all—no one in the district wears glamorous clothes—but in his eyes, you stood out. It's probably because, unlike other girls in the district, your clothes didn't hang off and your bones didn't show, you didn't look like someone who was malnourished.

Maybe with your beauty and if you had a good interview you could get lucky and captivate a sponsor, he thought. He hoped that this year his uncle would try even harder to bring home a winner.

Once you are on stage Effie asks for volunteers. Of course, no one offers.

“Now it's time to meet our male tribute!” Effie announces, rushing to the boys' urn and pulling out the first piece of paper she sees, “Lucerys Strong!”

This must be a nightmare, Jacaerys thought. They were supposed to be safe, they had never asked for tesserae. He was snapped out of his stupor by hearing Joffrey's desperate cries calling for Luke as his brother began to walk with fear and tears in his eyes to the stage. Jace didn't even think about it, he broke out of his formation and started running after Lucerys.

“I'm a volunteer!” he shouted when the peacekeepers grabbed him, wanting to take him away from Lucerys. “I volunteered as a tribute!” he repeated, standing up straight, once they released him.

"Magnificent!" Effie exclaimed, happy because there was finally some action in the District. "But you are supposed to present the winner of the reaping first and then ask for volunteers…"

"Just let him up," the mayor interrupted her sharply, clearly upset by the situation. He knew Jacaerys because he always bought strawberries from him and Baela.

“No, Jace!” Lucerys said with a trembling voice, still shaking her head. “You can't!”

“Go to Joffrey” the eldest brother ordered firmly, he wanted to hug Luke but he was afraid that if he did he would also start crying and he couldn't do it knowing that the cameras were filming everything. He couldn't appear weak. “Go,” he repeated, pushing him aside and heading to the stage without looking back.

Jacaerys' brown eyes meet yours and the heaviness in his stomach increases. He would have to kill you if he wanted to come home, you, the person who pushed him to move forward after her father's death. He had never thanked you and much less would he do so now knowing that in a few days, he may be the one who ended up killing you. Obviously, luck was not on his side but if you died he really hoped that it would be another of the tributes who would end up taking your life. If it became him and he managed to win the games, Jacaerys was sure that there would not be a day in which he would not think of you.

"Wonderful!" Effie exclaimed once the young man finished climbing the stairs. "What's your name?"

"Jacaerys Strong," he answered.

"I'll bet my shoes he was your brother. You didn't want him to steal your glory, did you?" The companion's smile disappeared before the furious looks of the victor and the tributes. "Good! Let's give a big round of applause to our new tribute!"

But no one applauds. The entire District demonstrates its disagreement with its silence. Not only that, but many people begin to bring the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then point them at Jacaerys. He looks shocked as they give him that gesture. It was not a common thing to be used in the District but every once in a while, someone would do it during funerals. It was a gesture of giving thanks, of admiration, of farewell to a loved one. The same gesture they had made at his father's funeral. Jacaerys feels a lump form in his throat. He can't help but look at you, this was thanks to you, if you hadn't reminded him that the District needed him like they needed his dad then maybe he would have continued in silence staring into nothingness, living mechanically instead of starting to help people like his dad used to do.

The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. Once he finishes he instructs you and Jace to shake hands. Jacaerys notices that your hand is a little smaller than his and he feels warm against hiss. You catch him off guard when you squeeze his hand as if to encourage him. He returns the gesture even though he knows he shouldn't, it wasn't the time to become friends.

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pendragora · 9 months

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I can write a whole essay on why Alicent would love to have a daughter-in-law from outside the House Targaryen

First of all, Alicent is bewildered by the customs Targaryens have (something we see in her when she is younger). I believe that if it wasn't to enforce Aegon's claim to the throne, she would not have him and Helaena wed and rather prefer to have them marry someone outside of the house

Second, ever since her falling out with Rhaenyra, she is stripped off any female companionship. She is surrounded by men – Viserys, Larys, Otto, Criston, etc. – and nobody is her friend there. For everyone else she is the queen. The only friendship she's had is long gone and is unlikely to be restored. We can see her yearning to have female company when she spends time with Helaena, but here she is also refused that – her daughter is much unlike any other maiden she has ever encountered or was herself. Helaena is a true Targaryen, tormented by her dragon dreams, one of the biggest manifestations the blood of the dragon has

So, imagine if Aemond and Daeron were to marry and their pick fell on ladies from other noble houses

She would be thrilled to have another daughter (even if in-law) because that would provide the female companionship she is stripped off. Her daughters-n-law would be someone who know the struggle of being a young woman in the world of men, the labour it is to be a maiden in noble society of Westeros. She would not only offer guidance to her sons' wives, but also cautiously seek and provide them with some actual warmth of a companionship such opportunity presents

Oh, and if she was to see that they were willing and eager to spend time with her? I think that, as a mother, all Alicent really want is to have some love from her children. I also believe that her love language is physical touch and she is so starved for it:

Her own father is not affectionate

Her husband is the last place she would seek warmth from, he's made it clear over the years where she stands

Her own blood, her children are struggling themselves in the misery that their situation gives them

Aegon is either drunk or in a whorehouse and he is stubborn in his self-loathing, he is convinced his own parents do not want or love him - he would never go for the comfort and warmth to Alicent

Helaena is neurodivergent and distant because of it, she can provide company, but it is not the company Alicent is used to. She can't touch her daughter (the older she gets, the less Helaena allows her to) and when they speak she can hardly understand her

Aemond is distant too, but they have their moments. I bet he is her favourite because he sometimes allows her close and gives her this affection she yearns for

Daeron is not even there in the King’s Landing with her

But they all are tormented by their fate. And she can't ask of them to be nicer. She knows they struggle. So does she

So, imagine women that have not known that struggle and legally are her daughters (in-law). Women that are eager to learn from the wise queen and look up to Alicent with adoring eyes. The last time she saw someone look at her this way was when her children were young and yet not off age, when they were not stripped off their childish innocence. She would do anything to bond with her daughters-in-law, but approach them cautiously, as if expecting them to also turn on her, like her children did at some point

But they don't and they openly express how much they want to be around her. She would be thrilled. It would be something for her

Something for her only

Suddenly, the Green Queen hosts tea parties with her daughters in law. She goes on promenades with them. They are often seen holding a conversation in public. In private Aemond and Daeron would notice how she holds them, either having a hand on the girls' wrist or half-embrace them

She would love to once again be a mother, not a queen mother, but just a mother, a female companion, dare I say, a friend to her daughters-in-law

She would become so much more relaxed and affectionate if her daughters in law were on board with physical affection, but she would never dare to raise a question herself

This is why I think she would cherish and support her daughters in law

She would be the support a newly-wedded into Targaryen family woman needs. Something she didn't have once she was married into the family

The Queen in Chains would not allow any other young girl or woman from outside the house to suffer the way she did

Please, I just want to hug her

Also? Bonus points if the daughters-in-law are from the Reach, she would have loved them twice as much

#alicent hightower #hotd alicent #hotd #lena goes off

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bananadrinkxxx · 8 months

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THE BLOOD CROWN

MASTERLIST

[Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction ]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

[warnings: smut, sex content, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

Content for adults. 18+

Summary

"𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹."

Queen Alicent had spoken the truth when these words had left her mouth, the moment the King decided not to punish Princess Rhaenyra's son for taking the eye of her child. In the night, in the safe place of her chambers, she gave the order to have Lucery's Velaryon taken and sold into slavery. But a regrettable misunderstanding causes Larys Strong's men to take, not the culprit, but Aemma Velaryon, Rhaenyra's youngest child, and banish her to a life of suffering and loneliness.

Aemma Velaryon had not been seen since then but the gods do not forget and sometimes fate strikes back harder than you would have expected.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 16 Part 2

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 21 Part 2

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 25 Part 2

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29 Part 1

Part 29 Part 2

Taglist:

Write me for being add to this taglist :)

I differentiate by stories. (click here)

If you want to read it on wattpad, here the link:

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗜 AEMOND TARGARYEN - bananadrink - Wattpad

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lol-im-done · 2 years

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Love in the Kingswood | Harwin Strong X Reader

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2489

Synopsis: Princess Rhaenyra's Lady in Waiting, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, slays a boar to protect her cousin, upon her return to the royal camp she realizes she's caught the attention of Ser Harwin Strong, and as they go on their own hunt they fall in love.

Author's Note: Feedback and comments are always appreciated! Also any ideas for other one shots so I can be inspired to write more :). Can be found on A03 as well.

Never had you been so happy to see a forest as you were when you arrived at the Kingswood. After hours of awkward small talk, glares from Alicent and the uncomfortable bumpy carriage ride you were more than ready to disembark. As Lady in Waiting to Princess Rhaenyra you were a constant companion at her side and as a distant cousin you were welcomed into the inner circle of the Royal Family. King Viserys had recognized Rhaenyra’s increasing isolation after Queen Aemma’s death so he reached out to your father Lord Vaelor who quickly dispatched you to King’s Landing. It was daunting at first but you became fast friends with Rhaenyra, a comforting and supporting presence for her. As the royal carriage slowed you could hear the cheers for the babe Aegon outside, Rhaenyra already withdrawing into herself.

“Are you ready?” you asked softly, grasping her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. After a few seconds she gave you a brave smile and nod before stepping off with you at her side.

The encampment was enormous with various tents and booths for Aegon’s name day celebration. Soon you found yourself in the main royal tent and after a quick conversation with King Viserys who doted on you as if his own daughter, you went on your rounds but kept a watchful eye on Rhaenyra. The King never explicitly stated you were to mind her but it became evident you were also responsible for keeping her in line, as spirited as she was. As you exchanged words with Larys Strong, you could see Rhaenyra speaking with her father, both voices increasing in tandem with their agitation. As their argument came to a crest, gathering the attention of the court, Rhaenyra stormed off.

“Pardon me, Larys I must go!”

Larys, understanding your role, nodded and stepped aside as you tried your best not to run in the tent, trying to make it through the maze of people. Once you were at the exit you broke into a sprint at the same time someone was walking in.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry!” you apologized, not even recognizing the tall man you had bumped into. Ser Harwin Strong had seen you at court, a quiet shadow to the fiery Princess Rhaenyra, and had only formally met you when King Viserys had introduced you to the court. Watching you run after her he couldn’t help a small smile, he found your panicked state quite adorable. As he watched you go after Rhaenyra, his brother inched closer to him.

“Lady Vaelor is most kind, I’m sure she did not mean to leave in such a haste,” Larys noted.

“Do you spend time with her often?” Harwin turned to his brother. “We sometimes cross paths in the library and will have tea with others from court in the Godswood,” Larys replied.

“Do I sense romance?” Harwin teased but Larys rolled his eyes. “No. But from the way you constantly ask after her and the way you stared at her bottom as she walked past I’d say you had that notion in your own head,” Larys replied coolly. Harwin let out a bark of laughter, slapping his brother on the arm before continuing into the tent, the feeling of your body pressing against his, still on his mind.

“Rhaenyra wait!” you cried, lifting the bottom of your skirt as you tried to keep up with her long strides but she was soon galloping off into the forest.

“Ser Criston-,” you called out and you didn’t need to finish as he helped you up on your horse before mourning his own. Without wasting another minute your steeds were off, racing to follow Rhaenyra. You loved your cousin dearly, would defend her to the very end but sometimes you swore she was trying to give you gray hairs. Thankfully you were a skilled rider and even in your dress you quickly caught up with her. Criston grabbed the reins of her horse and she scowled as she was stopped.

“Gods above Rhaenyra give me warning next time you decide to run off,” you shook your head, patting the neck of your horse to calm it down.

“I just couldn’t stand it one more minute! I don’t want to marry,” she pouted, silver strands whirling around her face. Criston looked over to you and you both exchanged a serious look, shaking your head in disappointment but the air of seriousness broke as Rhaenyra smirked, making the forest come alive with your trio’s laughter.

Rhaenyra insisted on walking back but you were nowhere close to the camp by the time the sun had set. Thankfully your horses had food and water and a light blanket strapped to them so you assisted Criston in making the fire as Rhaenyra set up for the night.

“Do you think the realm would ever accept me as Queen?” Rhaenyra broke the calm silence as you all ate the bread and meat from your packs.

“The lords bent the knee to you Princess,” Criston replied but she didn’t seem satisfied by that answer.

“I think that you will be a great Queen. The realm never had a chance to be reigned by a Queen before. They may be uncomfortable at first but once you prove yourself to them they will love you as I do cousin,” you said making her grin. Before she could reply there was a rustle in the distance and the horses began to whine. Criston was up and peering into the darkness, sword at the ready for whatever it could be. From the corner of your eye you saw Rhaenyra bring out her glinting dagger and you cursed yourself for being unprepared. Suddenly you and Rhaenyra screamed as a large boar burst through the bushes and rammed into Criston sending him flying to the side. It barreled straight towards Rhaenyra, jumping on top of her as she let out another scream. The urge to defend and protect surged through you as you grabbed her dagger from the ground. With a cry you plunged it into the boar’s back with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed everywhere, hot and sticky, and the squeals of the boar filled the air. Criston pulled Rhaenyra out from under the boar as you continued to stab it, not stopping until it went completely still. The dagger fell from your hands, and you looked down, eyes widening in realization. Blood poured down your face and neck and the light purple fabric of your dress turned maroon.

“Fuck,” you hung your head.

“Fuck indeed,” Rhaenyra whispered, as she held onto Criston tightly.

“Cheers to Lady Vaelor, Slayer of Boars,” Criston breathed out before you fell over in exhaustion.

The following morning your trio finally made it back to the royal camp, exhausted, dirty and in need of a bath. The only upside was your kill which was being dragged by Criston’s horse. It soon became clear to everyone who had killed the boar. Climbing off your horse you tried to keep your composure as dozens of eyes watched you. Thank the gods your mother was not here or she would have dragged you off by your ear. Judgment and shock were evident on everyone’s faces as you walked alongside Rhaenyra. She had some blood splattered on her boots but you were drenched. It must have been quite the sight, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, Princess Rhaenyra’s Lady in Waiting covered in the blood of the boar she had slain. What caught you by surprise was that in the sea of judgmental gazes there was a man, smiling. He was grinning as he peeled the skin off a rabbit, eyes roaming over you in a way that sent a delightful shiver over your body. Then you quickly realized who it was- Ser Harwin Strong. Thankfully the blush that spread across your cheeks was hidden by the blood. You were acquaintances with his brother Larys but had never gotten the chance to spend time with the man they called Breakbones. There he was eyeing you with a mixture of awe and something else, a sort of hunger. Breaking away from his gaze you followed Rhaenyra to your personal tent for a long awaited bath.

Later that evening you mustered the courage to come out of your tent and eat dinner. King Viserys had publicly thanked you for the boar, which was cooked for tonight. Not used to all of this attention you kept to the edge of the feast, picking at your meal. A shadow passed over you and when you looked up, your heart began to beat as fast as a hummingbirds.

“Ser Harwin,” you curtsied, dress pooling around you, tongue grazing your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in it.

“At ease Lady Vealor,” he replied seriously as if you were a fellow member of the Night’s Watch, making you giggle. “That was horrible, I apologize,” Harwin chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, it was quite funny. How can I help Ser Harwin, if you are looking for the Princess-,” you began but he stepped closer to you, close enough that you needed to look up as he towered over you. “No, I was looking for you,” he said. Another blush spread across your cheeks and you found yourself at a loss for words. The most handsome man in Westeros (in your opinion because Rhaenyra would argue Daemon) was looking for you?!

“What do you say to going out on a small hunt of our own?” he asked hopefully. “I was impressed by your killing of the boar and I’ve heard you enjoy archery-,” he continued to ramble, as if afraid to hear rejection from you.

“I’d love to.”

Harwin paused, eyes widening with happiness and he suppressed the urge to sweep you up in his arms at the moment. Gathering his composure he stepped back, “Tomorrow morning then, I shall arrive at your tent at sunrise, My Lady,” Harwin bowed his head.

“See you then Ser Harwin,” you curtsied before dashing off to find Rhaenyra.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough and when Harwin announced himself outside your tent you were ready, flinging the curtain open. Harwin forgot what he was going to say as he looked down at you as he gulped. Gone was the usual purple dress, today you looked like a huntress. Hair braided away from your face, leather trousers, your house sigil of two spears embroidered on your vest.

“Good morning Ser Harwin, Princess Rhaenyra is spending the day with the King so it looks like I’m all yours today,” you greeted him with a shy smile.

“I’ll take any time I get with you Lady (Y/N),” Harwin smiled back before offering you his arm.

Your conversation had started light as you walked through camp, the usual pleasantries especially with so many ears around but as you made your way deeper into the forest you found yourself opening up more. Harwin was a great listener, nodding along to your stories and quite eager to learn more about you as he asked about your home, your life. It wasn’t long before you began to see evidence of rabbits in the area, Harwin insisting you take the lead on the hunt.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be out there hunting down deer and wolves Ser Harwin, instead of hunting little rabbits with a Lady,” you teased as you crouched down. Harwin crouched down beside you, angling his body closer to yours.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be at this moment,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. Turning to look at him, you were entranced by the depth of his eyes and you resisted the urge to run your hand through his mess of curls, turning back to the task at hand. Harwin watched as you brought out your bow, silently parting the bushes to get a clearer look at your target.

Notching the arrow your eyes narrowed in concentration, as you prepared your kill. Slowly your breaths evened out and with a final exhale your arrow went flying before hitting the rabbit straight through the eye.

“Damn!” Harwin cheered, squeezing your shoulder. Other men would have chastised you for your skill, or felt their manhood threatened but not Harwin. Ser Harwin Strong was not like other men, and you could already feel the stir of love in your chest.

After a few hours you had amassed quite a few rabbits and hares, Harwin carrying them in a bag as you walked beside him. With every step your bodies inched closer, shoulders grazing one another’s. After a few more minutes you approached a small creek bed that led to the camp and before you could look for a log to cross over, Harwin offered you his hand. Thinking he would guide you through the small stream you took it, “Thank you Ser-,” you began but let out a squeak as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist and hoisted you up against his body. Instinctively you curled up against him, arms snaking around his neck as he walked you both through the water. He did not let you go however until you came closer to the camp, not at all tired. As he let you down you fought the urge to pout, not wanting to leave his comforting grasp.

“I’ve had a wonderful time, truly,” you thanked him, looking up at Harwin.

“Please just Harwin,” he said, hand reaching out to wipe dirt off your cheek gently.

“Harwin,” you echoed.

“Can I ask you something?” Harwin asked a bit nervously, and you nodded. “Why did you say yes to coming with me? I know my reputation-.”

“I said yes because you’re not like other men. You asked me to hunt with you, not to watch you hunt. Your brother Larys speaks nothing but good things about you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me Harwin,” you said sincerely. It was Harwin’s turn to blush and he looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. Leaning forward his hand came to cup your neck and for a moment you thought he was aiming for your lips but instead his lips pressed against your forehead in a sweet kiss, so delicate for someone nicknamed Breakbones.

“I will always be kind to you (Y/N), I will be by your side if you let me,” Harwin whispered as he stared longingly into your eyes.

“I want nothing more,” you whispered back before surging upwards to kiss him, not caring who saw. Little did you know your journey with him would not end there but your relationship would blossom and endure through a civil war of fire and blood. Ballads would be sung of his strength in battle and of yours in diplomacy and eventually dragon riding, and in the end your children would carry on the legacy of both your houses with pride and glory.

#harwin strong x reader #harwin strong #Ser Harwin Strong X Reader #hotd imagine #harwin strong imagine

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sunfyresrider · 1 year

Text

OBSESSION

Synopsis: You were sent to the Vale when the war started and once it ended you were stuck. A proposal was quickly made between you and Lord Arryn as payment for your stay. The new king wouldn't allow this... By any means necessary you would be his.

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader warnings: Dark!Aegon ish, obsessive tendencies, murder, smut, all that fun stuff! word count: 8k note: I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish but your request is here @slayhousehightower <3 Also many many thanks to @annikin-im-panicin for helping me write this dialogue. She is an insanely talented writer, and you should check out her fics!

In the year 131 AC King Aegon II Targaryen successfully burnt his half-sister, the pretender queen, alive in the courtyard of Dragonstone. The war was won but not without great costs to house Targaryen. All of the dragons were dead, except Silverwing who disappeared into Maiden pool, Sheep stealer who flew off with Nettles on his back, and Princess Rhaena’s newly hatched pink dragon. Not only were mostly all the dragons gone but their riders as well.

Only one child remained of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the little prince Aegon. Baela and Rhaena remained but Corlys had been executed along with Larys Strong for an attempt on the king’s life. Aegon himself remained, half of the man he once was. He was burnt, broken but luckily his legs and cock still worked.

King Aegon had sacrificed his entire family for the throne. Both his brothers had died for him, his wife took her own life after her two young sons died. His little princess Jaehaera and mother were all that remained. You were another thing he did not sacrifice, he shipped you off to the Vale to be away from the war.

His kingdom did much better than expected after some tragedy. The young king matured into an almost decent one with the help of his council. Smallfolk and lords alike were quickly rebuilding and repopulating their small kingdoms. In honor of this, a grand ball was to be held. to help him find a match for little Aegon, to find if Jaehaera fancied anyone other than her dolls, and to perhaps see you once again.

He did try to summon you back home almost immediately, but it wasn’t safe enough yet for his little bird. You were tucked away safely in the mountains far away from harm's way… Aegon wanted his children to go with you, but the gods had other plans.

Your relationship wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to outsiders. You were the child of King Viserys’s sister, who tragically died trying to birth your brother. After her death, you were adopted into his home. Mainly out of guilt he forced her to marry and move far away from her family. He blamed himself as he did with Aemma.

You were raised alongside Aegon and though to onlookers you never seemed close, he thought otherwise. Perhaps, it was a bit obsessive how he felt, a little wrong to anyone on the outside. He had a wife and yet he only ever yearned for you. Aegon craved you like he did wine, an addiction that he couldn’t be satisfied without.

He never did get you. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was because you were too dear for him to sully. Instead, he sullied whores who resembled you. It worked until his wife died and he needed another heir. You were unmarried, only because the war started right as you turned of age to be wed and bedded.

You were finally, in the eyes of the kingdom, ready to be his. He had waited for this moment since you were teens. Aegon watched you carefully growing up, kept his distance as best he could. The restraint it took him not to succumb to his desires and ravish you was impossibly difficult.

Every time you approached him his mind raced with wondrous fantasies. Your sweet voice carried like a song, which is why he called you little bird. Your long hair flowed perfectly to your waist and smelled divine. Not sweet like vanilla, sweet like a bouquet of flowers. Sometimes he would purposely stand close behind just so he could be surrounded by your scent.

Your face was truly a sight to behold, so beautiful yet so unaware of it. You were almost of perfect northern beauty, except for the pale blue eyes of your mother that bore into the soul of everyone who caught your gaze. Aegon never quite got the chance to truly see your body, without a doubt you were shorter than him and so very small. He feared if he touched you, you might break into pieces.

The feel of your delicate hands touching him was seared into his mind forever. You rarely touched but one day he had the opportunity to escort you to dinner and the feel of your soft hands on his arm nearly made him crazy.

You didn’t have the traditional Targaryen looks, you resembled more of your father’s family. He loved that about you, the way you were opposite to him in everything. Where he was wanton and wicked you were kind and pure. Not too pure, occasionally he would peek in through the cracks of your doors and see you attempting to ease the ache between your legs. You obviously didn’t understand it because you never succeeded, he vowed to help you with that one day.

Your chest was not as small and delicate as the rest of you, though it was not huge like the whores on the street. Occasionally, when the weather got hot and you wore lighter clothing, he could see your breast barely peek out of the top of your corset.

Another thing to drive him mad, if he could see it so could any other vile man. You didn’t realize how perfect you were, you didn’t realize you caught the gaze of every person with a cock. He could kill them now though, so it didn’t matter as much but back then. Oh, he would be practically fuming inside his chambers. The mere thought of another man hearing your laugh, smelling your scent, seeing your gaze, feeling your touch, or worst of all fucking you made him want to burn the entire kingdom down.

This was all in the past though, now that he was king no man would come near you or so he thought.

Your time in the Vale was comforting even though there was a literal war happening around you. Of course, you cried for the dead and the destruction that was caused to the realm, but it had been a few years. Things had started to look up for the kingdom with the new king.

That was something you wished to brag about but didn’t. Your friend was king, and he wasn’t as terrible a ruler as everyone thought! It was nice to hear that Aegon, the once wastrel, had grown into a good man. You desperately missed your family that you would never see again… You may not ever see Aegon again and though you weren’t close you considered him a friend. In your mind, the war wasn’t truly worth it and choosing sides is why everything fell apart so quickly.

It wasn’t time to dwell on the past. There were better things happening in your life that took your full attention. The Vale had almost fully become your home and everyone around you was so nice. Especially the heir, Ser Joffrey Arryn who recently succeeded Jeyne after her death. It didn’t come as a surprise you were betrothed shortly after his accession.

He had spent the most amount of time with you and fawned over you like no other. At first, you thought you would hate the prospect of marriage and your husband, but you came to enjoy him. He wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, no defining traits to make him special but he was kind and gentle. Joffrey was also a good warrior so you would always be protected.

Today wasn’t any different from most days. You were in your own world as you strolled around the Eyrie. It got quite chilly up in the mountains, but it didn’t bother you as much. To be honest, it reminded you of your old home when you were a child, and your mother was still alive.

Before you could dwell on the past for too long a hand touched your shoulder catching your attention. “Lord Joffrey,” you breathed out in shock. He grinned, “apologies for startling princess. I have word from King’s landing I thought you’d like to hear.” Your smile grew bright at the idea Aegon had summoned you home. “Yes please, if it wouldn’t bother you.” He chuckled slightly, “no need to be so polite we’re betrothed now.”

Ah yes, it slipped your mind for a moment. “Of course, my apologies.” Joffrey took your hand in his, “The King sends a royal invitation to the Maiden’s Day ball. The young prince Aegon, the king and princess Jaehaera are all looking for potential suitors.” It wasn’t a direct summon nor was it really a summon at all. Maybe you weren’t friends as it seemed, they did leave you in the Vale for three years. “Will we be attending?”

“Only if you wish it, princess.” The title of princess didn’t suit you very well. You were merely a daughter of a dead king’s sister. “Don’t call me that, you know my name.” He patted your hand, “Ok y/n, do you wish to attend?” You hadn’t been back to King’s Landing in such a long time. Not only that but all those you once called family or friends were gone. Except Aegon but you doubted he really remembered you at all. Being back might bring forth some unwanted memories… unwanted feelings.

“Do you think there will be lemon cakes?” Joffrey laughed at your simple yet undeniably love for cakes. There weren’t any lemon cakes in the Vale, so the chance to taste them again was the driving factor in returning. “Absolutely, those are most ladies' favorites.” You nodded, mostly to yourself, “We should attend then!”

“Do we know who all will be attending?” The king spoke to his new small council. It was made up of both blacks and greens, though he never quite was able to fully trust the ones who pledged against him in the war he allowed them to live. A merciful act to make him look better than he actually was. “Many great houses will be attending… Baratheon, Bolton, Redwyne, Royce, and even the daughters of Pentos, Lys, Myr….” He completely zoned out as the names were being listed and none of them sounded like the Vale. “What of the Eyrie? Will they be presenting any maidens?”

The council members glanced at each other and thought to themselves. “I believe the new Lord Arryn will be coming with his betrothed, but we hadn’t heard word otherwise.” So, you weren’t coming after all, he would just have to send you a personal invitation then. Never in his life had he met a woman so hard to get a hold of. “Your cousin, your Grace.” His attention peaked again, “what of her?” The master of coin raised a brow at him, “If you meant to ask about your cousin. Y/N is Lord Arryn’s betrothed so she will be attending.”

He felt his stomach clench, his nerves run through with an all-consuming dread. No dread wasn’t enough, it was more than that. He felt numb, his body tingling with the feeling. Not rage, no envy, no fury. Just this feeling of overwhelming helplessness. The sounds around him were all muffled, all he could hear was ringing. The sounds of wedding bells, the most disgusting sound he ever heard.

The wicked king, that’s what the whispers said about him and oh he could show them how wicked he truly was. “Who allowed this to happen?!” The room went dead silent as the members stared in disbelief. “Uh…your grace, it was a decision made by the lady Jeyne during the war. We had no part in it.” That fucking cunt. “As king, I should be the one making the decision on who my kin wed.”

That wasn’t necessarily true at all. In fact, it would be considered a payment for letting her stay there for so long. It simply wouldn’t fucking do. “I believe that is something we should discuss with the lord himself, your grace.”

“That we shall.”

The Maiden’s Day ball was truly an event for all ages it seemed. Thousands piled into the streets and keep of King’s Landing. All of whom were vying for the love of the king or young prince. Many women may not even be here by choice, their greedy fathers simply wished to use them as a pawn for power.

It was too crowded, far too crowded for your liking. The dress you wore wasn’t even that heavy and yet it felt like it was on fire. You were one of the lucky ones who arrived a week early, after a personal invitation from the king who demanded you visit prior to the affair.

Your nerves were completely shot to say the least. You never did enjoy large crowds or grandiose affairs. It was a struggle when your carriage pulled into the courtyard and instantly was swarmed by a welcome party of guards, a very “warm” welcome indeed. They opened the carriage door in a hurry and rushed you out. One grabbed you by the arm and the other snatched up Lord Arryn. There was a bit of resistance, but it failed as the guard said it was simply to protect you both from the large crowds.

It felt like whiplash how quickly you were pulled out and into the keep and thrown into a room. Not literally thrown but the rush made it feel as such. “What the hell was that?” Joffrey asked while trying to calm himself down. “Mayhaps the king did it so we wouldn’t be suffocated by the people.” You took a deep breath and sat down on the settee. It was much calmer inside than it was out. “I hadn’t realized this many people would be here already. I can’t imagine how crowded it’ll be the day of.”

“The king and prince are looking for wives, it makes sense so many would come.” A sting in your gut caught your attention. Not this, not after all these years, you thought to yourself. There was a time as a young girl you fancied Aegon but that was long ago when he was merely an unmarried prince. He was now a widowed king with far too many suitors, all of which were less plain featured than you.

You had Joffrey and he was good. That was all you truly needed, not a childhood crush that never was confessed. “Are you alright, love? You look sickly.” You fell back on the bed and let out an exasperated sigh, “it’s too hot in the south.”

Aegon raced to your chambers after the announcement of your arrival. Although it didn’t need to be announced because he was watching intently from his window. Whilst on his way to your chambers he was interrupted at every corner. Another thing he hated about being king, there was no such thing as peace.

One thing he had chosen to do today was to bring Jaehaera along with him. Aegon loved his little princess dearly and there was no way you couldn’t. You hadn’t seen each other since she was six and now, she is nearly nine. If you wouldn’t spend time with him, he knew you would surely spend time with her. Was this a manipulative thing to do? Mayhaps. But would it get him closer to wedding you? Absolutely. Besides, Jaehaera needed a motherly figure desperately after the loss of her own.

“Do you remember her, little love?” he quizzed the girl before knocking on your door. She didn’t speak much anymore, only to himself and his mother. A quick nod confirmed she did in fact remember you. Aegon was drunk most of her early childhood, but he had faint memories of you playing dolls with her to give Helaena a break after Maelor was born. Maelor, a hole reappeared in his chest at the thought.

Both of his sons were gone in the most horrific ways imaginable. His innocent sons who were barely old enough to talk properly. He should have been there; he should have been a better father. The bile in his gut began to rise to his throat and his eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

“Are you going to knock?” The little voice snapped him back into the present. He cleared his throat and knocked. You sat up in bed and groaned. “What is it now?” Joffrey stopped unpacking his things and walked to the door, “we’ll see.”

The door opened and Aegon’s smile fell flat. The single sparkle in his eye died out. “Your grace, how may I help you?” Gods, he was the most plain-featured man he had ever laid eyes upon. Even his voice was dull in sound, nothing like the way you spoke. He wanted, no needed to kill him as soon as possible.

“Aegon?” You sprang out of bed and pushed the door wider to reveal yourself. He looked so different from how you remembered. His hair was slicked back, and the edge of face was scarred from burns, he was still handsome, just not in the same way.

“Hi,” a voice from below caught your attention. “Princess Jaehaera?! My look how you’ve grown!” You purposefully ignored the stare down happening between your soon to be husband and Aegon. Out of sight, out of mind, you reminded yourself.

Aegon took a deep breath and broke first. “Y/N, how good it is to see you again.” He let go of Jaehaera’s hand and immediately went to embrace you. You stuttered for a moment before allowing him to pull you close. Your hair still smelled of sweet flowers and your skin remained as smooth as silk. “I’ve missed you; it has been too long.” His eyes bore into your betrothed and a small curve formed in his lips. You hear that cunt? She had missed me, he thought.

“Do you want to come to the gardens with us?” Jaehaera stared into your soul, you didn’t remember her eyes being so intense. “If the king wouldn’t mind,” you smiled. Aegon pulled back and offered his arm to you, “please we have much to catch up on.” His eyes rarely left the dull man behind you. “Please return safely, my love.” Lord Arryn stared daggers back at the king.

The minds of men continued to be confusing and impossible to comprehend.

The gardens were not as beautiful as you remembered. An unseen darkness loomed over what you used to consider your sanctuary. The side effects of war and death, you presumed. Jaehaera did not seem to notice as she ran in front of you both. A darkness loomed over them too, but it seemed over time they had grown accustomed to the feeling.

One thing in particular that had changed was the little girl's adoration for you. In the past she clung to her brother or Helaena and paid you no mind unless you were alone. Now she was trying to get your attention as she pointed to various flowers and insects that caught her eye. She was her mother’s daughter in every way.

You weren’t paying much attention to Aegon as you were too nervous to make eye contact. Every time turned to glance at him, he was already looking which sent a subtle flush to your cheeks. You told yourself it wasn’t because he was more handsome with his scars and instead because he was now king. Anyone would be nervous around someone with the highest status in the realm…

It didn’t help that his arm intertwined with yours burned into your skin. You hadn’t felt that since you danced with him when you were much younger. He had this special ability to make every girl feel flustered. You weren’t special, just another one fallen prey to his charm. Aegon wasn’t that charming once you got to know him though so the fact you still were melting under his gaze made little sense.

You had a lovely husband to be waiting for you. These thoughts were simply because of his new status and the years spent apart. Yes, that was the only reason you felt a shiver down your spine when he touched your lower back to move you along faster.

Gods, you were even more beautiful in the light of day. Aegon hadn’t realized how much you would grow in such a short time apart. You were still much shorter than he was, but you had really come into yourself. Though you retained your innocent youthful look perfectly. Your lips were plumper than he remembered as well as other things. It felt like he was staring at a meal ready to be devoured.

His daughter enjoyed your presence more than he anticipated. A familiar woman’s face drew out the child she once was. This plan was working far better than he imagined it would. “She's quite taken with you. Imagine one of our own clinging to your skirts as she does. How beautiful they would be, like their mother.”

“I hadn’t given that much thought,” you smiled. Your own children clinging to your skirts. There was a time where you used to cling to your mothers before your brother ripped her open. The birthing bed was the cause of death for many women in the realm. It never excited you thinking about having your own. In fact, you would have preferred marrying someone who already had heirs. You wouldn’t mind being a second wife and stepmother as long as it meant you didn’t have to risk your life making your own.

“Does having Lord Arryn’s children not suit your fancy?” His question caught you off guard and brought the heat to your cheeks. "Oh…um … I haven’t really thought about that either.” You laughed nervously, unsure of what else to say.

He squeezed your hand tighter. "You’re not married yet," he reminded you softly, knowing the answer was obvious. You didn’t want to have his children but were lying to yourself. You still could not lie to save your own life. “If you don’t want to marry him you only need to give me the word,” he said nonchalantly.

"There aren’t many other options… and lord Arryn is kind enough.” You tried to sound confident, but inside you wanted to scream. He just gave you an escape, but you knew it too good to be true. If you didn’t marry this nice man, you would be shipped off to a crueler one. “He’s dull and plain featured,” Aegon snorted.

“I’m plain featured too,” you lightly slapped his arm. "Not like that, he’s a plain piece of bread. You’re one of the fancy kinds with different fruits atop it." You chuckled to yourself, he just compared you to bread, “You’re so full of it!” You giggled.

His laughter joined with yours as his eyes sparkled. "Maybe I prefer plain girls," he admitted. For a moment your heart seemed to pause in its place and all the blood pumping through your veins stopped with it. A subtle flush rose into your cheeks as your stomach swarmed with butterflies. He couldn’t mean you, you were delusional to even think that for a second. “I’m sure there will be plenty to choose from on maiden’s day.”

“They aren’t the same as the woman I desire.” You glanced up at him as he smiled. Maybe you weren’t as delusional as you thought.

He had to handle Lord Arryn as quickly as possible. Aegon thought of several ways to dispose of this nuisance that invaded what little personal joy he had left. He could feed him to Sunfyre but that would become too public of a spectacle. Mayhaps he could push him onto the spikes under Maegor’s Holdfast and claim it was an ‘accident’… It would be too obvious.

He went to visit Joffrey himself, leaving you with Jaehaera. Aegon brought a simple bottle of wine to congratulate him on his success. The light from the window shone brightly against the cobbled floor, it was such a grand day Aegon couldn’t hide his own smile.

When Joffrey opened the doors and saw the king standing outside he nearly stumbled back. It was a surprise to say the least since you had not returned, “Your Grace, how may I help you?” Aegon smiled brightly and took a step inside, “May I sit?” Lord Arryn nodded and let the king inside his chambers, the fool.

Aegon sat across from him and pulled out the bottle he had so delicately made for him. “I’ve brought a gift! To celebrate your upcoming wedding.” Aegon held the bottle aloft in front of him, waiting for a response. “You’re too kind, your grace.”

“Please, drop the formalities. We’re going to be family soon.” Joffrey smiled and accepted the bottle of wine. He poured himself a cup and downed it in one go, the fool. He looked over the rim and asked, "Are you going to drink, your grace? I’ve heard you enjoy your reds.” Aegon smiled, “No, mayhaps if you asked me a few years ago I would have.”

"I appreciate your gift and your kindness towards my betrothed. She was very happy to be home,” he coughed. “This is where she belongs. Of course, she would be happier here.” Joffrey brows furrowed before he coughed once more. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Aegon grinned, “I only mean that she belongs here with me. Not in some shit castle in the north.” Lord Arryn’s coughs grew louder before he took another sip of the wine to ease his throat. “Do you really think insulting my kingdom and threatening to steal my wife will get you anywhere? All it will bring is war to your doorstep.”

Aegon hummed to himself, “I’m ready for another.” Joffrey stood up out of his chair and coughed into his sleeve. “You won’t win, you know that? Are you really going to die for some cunt.” The crazed look Aegon wore when he burnt Rhaenyra came back. His eyes widened, pupils dilated, and a smirk that resembled the devil himself graced his face. “Someone is.”

A small stream of blood fell from Joffrey’s nose, he lifted his hand to touch it and his eyes blew up in fear. Aegon stood and his ears quickly filled with the sound of Lord Arryn coughing on his own bile. Joffrey fell on the ground, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Aegon strode over to go hover above him and watch. It gave him a sick satisfaction that nothing else could.

Joffrey raised his hand to try and grasp at Aegon, he failed. His coughs turned into wheezes as life slowly drained from his eyes. “It was good to meet you, Lord Arryn. I do hope the seven hells treat you well.”

Aegon shouldn’t have been so cheerful when a shriek loud enough the deaf could hear echoed throughout the keep. The guards were the first to find you and quickly pulled you away from the scene. He rushed to go and ‘comfort’ you and find out what had exactly happened.

You were gagging nearly to the point of throwing up when he came back. Your sobs were louder than the king’s guards scurrying about to hide the incident. It wasn’t a cry of grief; he had seen that too many times to know otherwise. It was disgust and horror at the corpse which he would admit looked ghastly.

It wasn’t his intention to traumatize you. It didn’t matter now because you were right where he wanted you. A grief-stricken woman in need of comfort. “What happened! Your king demands an answer!” You briefly stopped crying and glanced over. Your feet moved before you could form another thought. You rushed into his arms and laid your head on his chest.

It was a welcome surprise to say the least. Aegon wrapped his arms around you and placed a hand on your hair, gently combing it with his fingers. “Y-your grace, we found him dead just moments ago.” A king’s guard nervously bowed in front of him. “You swore to protect my blood and yet my cousin's husband lay dead! How useless are you?” Another king’s guard came out, “Your Grace, we’ve begun investing but I believe a maester is needed… it looks like poison.”

“Deal with this… quickly!” Aegon’s shouts turned into soft coos as he walked away with you. It was hard to hide the smirk creeping onto his face. He blissfully ignored the stares he was getting in the corridors and led you right into his room. He wasn’t going to take advantage of… just comfort you.

“Little bird, it’ll be alright. I’m here now.” You glanced up and spoke through sniffles, “I-I’ve never se-seen a dead man before.” He rubbed the tears off your face gently with his thumb. “Shh, you’re okay.” Your eyes fell to the ground unable to look at him. Letting him see you sob was too embarrassing. “Oh Aegon… it was so awful.”

He pulled you back in and petted your hair some more. Aegon rested his chin atop your head and let your panic fade. He was so gentle, so loving, it was unexpected. “Do you know what helped me, little bird?” You pulled back again and wiped the remaining tears from your face. A small chuckle escaped your lips, “wine?”

“I was going to say company but wine too.” His lips curled into a rare genuine smile. “My apologies, your grace.” Aegon looked pained at the use of his formal title. You were his friend, his future queen, there wasn’t any need to act as if he was your superior. “Stop that, please. It’s Aegon, just Aegon.”

“Ok, Aegon. What do you propose I do to feel better.” He hummed to himself before walking off into the direction of the other side of the room. You stood there awkwardly, occasionally glancing over to him wondering what he was doing. He came back with two goblets of what you assumed to be wine… “Tonight, little bird, we drink!”

It took only an hour for Aegon to learn you absolutely could not handle your liquor. One moment you were crying and the next you were sprawled out on his bed laughing hysterically over a spilt glass of wine. It was the freest spirited you had ever acted.

He climbed onto the bed next to you and rested his head on his hand. In your drunken stupor you leaned over and gazed up at him with your big eyes. He loved your eyes, though cold most of the time when you were alone, they sparkled like diamonds. “You know, me five years ago would not believe myself if I said I was in bed with a king.”

Aegon raised a brow, “In bed? What unholy things are you talking about?” You giggled, “stop teasing! Five years ago, I would not have imagined my childhood crush sitting on the iron throne.” His eyes widened, “Crush? On me?” You seemed to stop listening and your gaze shifted to the ceiling. “I don’t want to marry a lord…” He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “But now my fiancé is dead, so I’ll have to marry some nobody.”

Aegon started speaking quickly so you couldn’t interrupt. “No, no no, you won’t be doing that. What do you say about having a crush?” Your eyes began to feel heavy, and his voice began lulling you to sleep. You sighed, “I would have married you, Aegon. If I was able to back, then.”

“We can marry now!” His heart felt as though it sprang from his chest. Aegon rose up from his place and leaned over so he was directly above you. “Hey, hey, y/n, did you mean that?” He gently grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “Little bird? How did you-”

He let out a sigh as he stared at your sleeping form. Your breathing sounded like angels singing in his ears. Your sleeping form looked like the maiden herself sprawled out on his bed. Gods, he felt pathetic thinking about how in love he was with you. He leaned in close and whisper, “tomorrow is a big day little bird... Sweet dreams, syz rina.” Aegon placed a single quick, too soft to feel, kiss on your lips.

You awoke late this morrow, it felt like your chambers were on fire and the light shone too brightly. Last night was a hellish event, a dead fiancé on your chambers floor and little explanation. You remember vividly going to Aegon’s room, drinking with him, sharing small talk, then everyone turned fuzzy and now you’re back in your chambers.

It was worrisome to say the least. You weren’t afraid he had hurt you, there was no signs of that. But what could you have said? How did you end up back in your room? And why in the seven hells did your head hurt so badly?

Three knocks sounded the servants coming in to get you ready. Why are they…? Oh! It was the day of the ball. You tried to roll out of bed and quickly realized this was not going to be an easy day.

Aegon had sent too many servants to help you get dressed and bathe. Too many choices of dresses and all were far too fancy for a lady with no family or house. You should be wearing black to mourn Lord Arryn, but it seemed the king had other plans.

He had remembered your favorite colors after all this time. The dress was a beautiful pale pink and blue, made of a fine silk you hadn’t seen before. The corset was lined with golden embroidery and the skirt had at least ten layers. The shoulders were puffed out and the sleeves were lined with white lace. You looked like royalty instead of the cousin of one.

The maids left quickly after they painfully fixed your hair and attempted to make your face look appealing. You stood in the mirror chanting to yourself words of encouragement. It didn’t make sense why you were so nervous for this, but you were. When you built up enough courage to leave your chambers and push your way into the throne room you were immediately stopped. Gods be good, the last thing you needed was any type of socializing.

“Lady Y/N, my deepest condolences for your late fiancé.” The voice that rang in your ear was none other than Floris Baratheon. You turned and forced a polite smile, “News travels fast around here, I appreciate your sympathies.” She gave you no time to continue before she looped her arm into yours. “Will you walk with me? I fear I’ve lost all my sisters in the noise.”

“Of course.” She smiled brightly and began guiding you through the crowd. “I would have thought you would be wearing black.” You would have been if it wasn’t for him. “It was only a betrothal. I don’t recall you wearing black after Prince Aemond’s death.” Her false smile faltered slightly, “You're right. How foolish of me to forget…”

“One failed potential marriage will not be the end of us, Floris.” You patted her hand and avoided looking at her directly. “You’re absolutely right, women like us should stick together… In fact, if all goes well, we may be cousins soon.” She was trying to get close with you so she could be the next queen. You froze in place, your body overflowing with anger. For what, you weren’t quite sure, but her words triggered something within you.

Floris’ posture was ramrod straight as you narrowed her eyes at her, “Oh my sweet, you have no idea what he will do to you,” you began, circling her and gripping her arm - too tight to be friendly. “Do you remember what happened to his sister?” You asked, voice sickly sweet; Floris nodded meekly. “He captured her at Dragonstone and had her dragged to the courtyard. Aegon burned her alive and forced her own son to watch. Then he let Sunfyre devour her, leaving only a leg. His own flesh and blood brutally murdered.” You asked pointedly, letting go of the painful grip on Floris’ arm as you brushed past her down the hall.

Before Floris could turn to scamper away, you turned back to her to deliver the final blow, “You ever refer to me as cousin again I’ll burn you alive.” You watched her scurry off with a foul taste in your mouth. The day you were used as a way to get close to the king was the day the dead rose from the grave.

The throne room was packed to the brim with maidens from across the seven kingdoms. It was beyond suffocatingly hot, nothing at all like a real ball. A few had already fainted, and one poor soul died from an unknown cause. You stood off to the side simply observing what was going on.

Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of your late-fiance’s apparent suicide. The stench of his corpse and the position in which he laid branded your mind and left no room for any other thoughts to come to fruition. Except for thoughts of the king.

There was an uneasy feeling in your gut, you couldn’t explain what it was, but it felt like the color green. Not green like illness, green like envy. You weren’t sure why you felt this. Unwin Peake tapped his cane on the floor three times announcing the king’s present. The whispers that filled the room quickly dissipated. Trumpets sounded as the crowd cleared and Aegon walked to the throne. Followed by two little bushes of silver hair, obviously the children.

“For the good of his people, His Grace must take another wife, though no woman will ever replace our beloved Helaena in his heart. Many have been put forward for this honor, the fairest flowers of the realm. Whichever girl King Aegon weds shall be the Alysanne to his Jaehaerys, the Jonquil to his Florian. She will sleep by his side, birth his children, share his labors, soothe his brow when he is sick, grow old with him. Let the maidens from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms present themselves before the king, so His Grace may choose the one best suited to share his life and love.”

The announcement echoed throughout the hall and the musicians began playing. A thousand men and their daughters were packed into the throne room presenting themselves one by one.

The first group were the daughters from the sister cities, Myr, Pentos, and Tyrosh. The girls looked to be what you assumed Aegon’s type was though he looked completely unamused. The next were the Baratheon girls, unsurprisingly Floris did not show her face.

“You look unamused, lady Y/N.” The voice from behind made you roll your eyes. You truly did not want to be bothered any longer. “This is more of a cattle show than a ball, Mushroom.” He moved up so he was standing right next to you. Mushroom, the court jester and dwarf were a notorious gossip spreader and pain in the ass. “I’d have to agree. Although each lady looks quite beautiful… It would be hard to picture anything more beautiful, unless perhaps all of them had arrived naked.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. “Already women have been scandalized, injured, fainted, and one just died. It doesn’t seem worth all the bother.” He peered up at you with a knowing look and let out a soft chuckle. “Of course, it would seem that way to you. You’ve already won the king’s favor.”

You scoffed, “you are truly a jester.” The sounds of hushed whispers surrounded you. A new princess was being displayed and apparently, she was truly the definition of beauty. You tried to peak over the crowd to see who it was but failed. “Mushroom! Who is that?” When there was no response, you looked down at your feet and noticed he was gone… damned fool.

You pushed your way through the crowd but as you got to the front the people erupted once more. “Aegon has found his little queen!” The words made your lip quiver and your heart sink deep within your chest. You sank back into the crowd and felt the urge to vomit. “That’s Daenaera Velaryon, she just turned six years of age.” The voice beside you whispered to their father and your illness stopped.

She’s six! Aegon was marrying a child! There was no way in the seven hells that could be true. With a newfound anger you shoved the people in front of you out of your way. Their celebrations slowly came to a halt. Until Floris the cunt, pushed you from behind so hard you stumbled into the clearing and in front of the throne.

Embarrassment heated up your cheeks as you peered around at the people staring. You quickly jumped to your feet and went to scurry off in shame, “Wait!” The king’s voice rang like a siren in your ears. You slowly turned and bowed, trying to hide the redness on your face.

“My nephew has chosen his bride and I will choose mine!” He stood from the throne and walked down to the bottom step. The crowd went silent in anticipation, he stared directly at you with a mischievous smile plastered on his face. Wait? His nephew chose a bride. “I, King Aegon, second of his name, present to the court the lady y/n, my bride and your future queen!”

Aegon had plotted claiming you in front of the masses so no one else would dare try to win you over. Nor would they keep pestering him to marry one of the hags presented before him. His smile was bright, and his eyes sparkled with genuine joy for the first time in ages.

You stood there with your mouth agape, and body frozen in place. What? Who? Bride? Queen? The music began to roar, and the mob burst into celebration once more. You felt the hands of people patting your back and heard the sounds of them wishing you well. What? Who? Bride? Queen?

You were not one to use profanities often but what the fuck just happened?

Aegon watched you scurry off before he could approach you. Each time he tried to leave he was pulled back by another lord or his own mother. You didn’t seem to upset, mayhaps a little shocked. The sounds around him were muffled as he waited for the opportunity to chase after you. Hours, it took hours before he could finally seek sanctuary in your arms.

He didn’t bother knocking, Aegon barged in without thinking. His excitement completely clouded any manners he was raised with. You weren’t there, he paused where he stood and glanced around. Your dress was discarded on the floor and the bed was a mess. His mind went to the worst-case scenario.

Your bathing chambers, he slammed the door open, and you dropped to the floor. “Seven hells! Aegon what the fuck!” You quickly pulled your robe over your body to save whatever modesty you had left. His heart stopped racing and he let out a deep breath. You weren’t fucking someone; you were just bathing… Naked.

“You left so quickly; I worried you got sick.” He strode over to you and offered you, his hand. You pushed it away and stood up, “I’m so- Aegon- what were you thinking?! Announcing our marriage and failing to inform me?!” His smile faltered, “I thought you wanted to marry me.”

Oh gods, there were those sad puppy eyes he used to get his way. “No! I mean yes, but no! Aeg-” He grabbed your arm, yanking you close and pressing his lips roughly onto yours. He surprised you again, this time you weren’t the one to pull back first. “Do you love me?” You spoke breathlessly, “I-” He squeezed your arms tighter, his voice laced with desperation. “Y/N, don’t you love me?”

The feeling of his breath on your neck sent chills down your spine. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut as he stared at you, lips parted slightly. You were going to be husband and wife soon…

It was you who jumped and pressed your mouth into his. You kissed him fiercely, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t return the affection at first, surprised by your sudden interest. However, when you tried to back away, he pulled you back in. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped into yours. It was a different sensation but not unwelcome.

His hands moved from your waist to cup your ass. You shuddered in his hold as he ground himself against your thigh. You broke the kiss first, panting heavily. You gazed up to see him gazing up at you hungrily. Aegon acted quicker than you could think. He picked you up off the ground, eliciting a yelp from you and immediately moved you to the bed.

He placed you down on the bed as gently as he could, pressing his lips against yours so you couldn’t protest. Your legs wrapped around his waist; all of his fantasies were being fulfilled. His lips slid down to your jaw, gently kissing it before he moved to your neck. He nipped on your neck, and you squirmed under him.

A wetness formed in between your legs as he sucked on your skin. It was a new ache that caused you to whimper under him, pressing yourself against him harder to relieve the tension. He let his fingers run up the curves of your body until he reached the sleeves of your down. Gently, he slipped one off your shoulder and placed soft kisses on your bare skin.

Shivers shot up your spine as he slowly pulled it off. The wait was agonizing, the throbbing between your legs getting worse by every movement he made. When he finally freed your breast from the fabric you sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of the cool air on your heated skin.

He slid his lips down your chest until he reached your breast. He circled each nipple with his tongue, flicking them lightly before sucking them into his mouth. You gasped and arched your back, soft whimpers filling his ear. Aegon’s hand traveled down your robe and to your core.

You gasped as he touched you, the need burning inside you, growing more intense by the second. He began teasing your folds with his finger, swirling it around your entrance until he hit something sensitive. A small moan escaped his lips, and he pressed his finger against your clit. You buckled and he laughed against your breast, biting on your nipple.

With every touch his cock grew harder and longer, pushing into your leg as if begging for attention. He was a caring man so he would handle that later. Aegon lifted his head from your breast and kissed you one final time, biting your lip.

He pushed himself off the bed and yanked you to the edge. A small gasp escaped your lips as he spread your legs and wrapped them around his shoulder. Aegon sucked on your inner thighs, surely leaving marks. He then slid his tongue upwards; his mouth reached your bud and pressed a quick kiss to it. You whimpered, begging for him to touch you more.

He slid one finger inside you and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. You cried out, arching your hips towards him. “You’re so wet… so you do love me.” He whispered into your center. Finally, he pressed his lips against you and began lapping his tongue around your clit.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve in your body tingling. He pressed another finger inside and moved his tongue around your bud faster, adding pressure to your entrance. You dug your nails into his shoulder, unable to stop your cries from escaping.

Your insides began to clench around his fingers and an unknown sensation began taking over your senses. His movements slowed, “Do you love me?” You whimpered at the loss of his tongue trying to pull him back. “Do you, y/n?” He pushed his fingers into you harshly, “Yes! I love you!”

You could feel him smile as he began sucking on your bud. The pleasure quickly became too much, and a moan escaped you. Your back arched and your toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over you, consuming you in its wake.

He pulled out his finger but didn’t stop suckling at your sensitive bud until your legs were twitching around him. Aegon pulled himself away from you and crawled onto the bed. His cock was aching, already it started to leak out precut, surely staining his pants. As he gently pressed his lips against yours, he began unbuttoning his trousers. Quickly freeing his cock from the tightness.

Aegon grabbed you once again and pulled you close, pressing his hardening length against your center. You looked up at him with wide eyes, watching as he moved closer until the tip of his cock brushed against your opening. “I’ll be gentle, little bird. I promise.” You whimpered as he pushed against you again, this time slipping in just the tip.

“Seven hells…” He moaned against your lips. He slid into you slowly, his cock stretching out your insides until he filled you completely. Your grip on him tightened and you bit into his shoulder. He let out a soft moan as he slowly began thrusting inside you.

His pace was slow at first, allowing your body to adjust to his size. But it was quickly growing more intense by the second. His large hands gripped your waist tightly and Aegon’s face was twisted with ecstasy. He buried himself within you and began pounding inside you.

"You're so tight... such a good girl for me.” He picked up the pace, slamming into you and making sure you felt every inch of his cock. Your breath quickened and you began moaning loudly. Anyone within a mile of you could hear the lewd sounds coming from your bedroom. A symphony of your moans, his groans and the sound of your wet skin slapping against each other.

Your arms pulled him closer, you kissed him, and he responded in kind, pushing himself deep inside you and grinding against your clit. The feeling from before was coming but much more intense. Your mind got lost in a haze of pleasure each time his cock hit your clit it sent waves through you, leaving you breathless.

Your cunt began clenching around him, a growl escaped his lips as he continued his movements. Every stroke left you trembling on the edge of your orgasm, ready to release all your new built-up tension. His thrusts became sloppy, and his groans turned into high pitched moans.

Your climax hit you in waves causing you to cry out. The sensation overwhelmed your mind, leaving you dizzy and weak. You couldn't even speak right as your walls spasmed around his cock, gripping him tightly. Aegon’s final thrust was hard, a warm feeling enveloped your insides. He spilt his seed as deep as he could into your womb.

He laid down next to you pulling you closer to him. Aegon brushed the hair out of your face and kissed you softly. He pulled back and grinned, “wife...” You smiled back weakly, “husband…” He stared at you adoringly, a light chuckle escaping his throat.

“What are we going to do about the bedding ceremony?”

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon fluff #aegon smut #aegon fic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fluff #aegon ii fic #aegon ii smut #hotd fic #house of the dragon

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emilykaldwen · 1 month

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter One

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: After a lot of encouragement, I will be posting chapters in their entirety here and on AO3. Many many huge thanks to @acrossthesestars for being my co-pilot, and for holding my hand through writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and commented. Your words mean the world to me.

CHAPTER ONE - THE WEIGHT THAT BROUGHT US HERE

Alicent watched the lords of the council settle into their seats, placing their markers in the proper place. Lord Tyland Lannister took his seat at the opposite end of the magnificent table, Lord Lyman Beesbury to his right. Maester Mellos and then Lord Larys at her own left hand. Jasper Wylde sat beside her father’s usual place at the right hand. The power of the realm all concentrated right in this room. They prayed to the Crone for guidance and wisdom at the beginning of every meeting, a practice that had thankfully not reached the ears of the king, as he’d been cloistered in his rooms since his illness had taken more of his body. It was one thing to allow her Faith to grace their dinner table. It was a whole other to have the Faith find its place at the Small Council. While his signature still graced the decrees, and his decisions still paramount for he was the King, Viserys had left the dealings of the realm to them. It was for the best - Viserys’ mind was giving way to his illness and the less seen, the better. Alicent didn’t know what she preferred: her husband demeaning her and neglecting her children, or him calling her Aemma when she came to care for him at night.

She grazed her fingers over the polished black marble ball in front of her as Maester Mellos began rattling off the never ending fighting between the Brackens and Blackwoods that not even the Father bearing down from the heavens himself could stop. They continued to tear themselves apart as if they would win all the gold in Casterly Rock for the longest, most ridiculous spat that the Tullys were no longer capable of handling. Sometimes she wished she could just drag charcoal lines along the map, piece off the floodplains to the north and the west and the mountains, let the other kingdoms take their pieces.

“Begs the question if perhaps it isn’t time to elect a new Lord Paramount to bring them to heel,” Lord Wylde harrumphed in his self-important way. The man was well and agreeable enough, Alicent thought, but every time he spoke, she missed Lyonel Strong. None of his proposals contained this ‘begging the question’ sort of nonsense, and none of Wylde’s attempts had any of the late Lord Strong’s well thought out solutions and easy friendliness.

“Unless grievous injustice is done, we cannot normally strip the title of Lord Paramount, but their inability to bring either house to heel since given the title is threatening the stability of the realm. Blackwoods own more land than the Tullys, and now we have reports they’ve gone undermining one another’s orchards, and putting others at risk.” Jasper turned his gaze to Larys, who had not spoken since the prayer. “Strong, your holding is Harrenhal. What do you have to say about this matter?”

Larys’ manner did not fool Alicent, but it worked wonders, as always, on Jasper. “This quarrel of theirs has lasted as long as the dynasty and longer still. King Jaehaerys brokered peace, and we cannot ascertain what sparked it again.” From the nervous licking of his lips to the fidgeting of his hands, he was a master at seeming far less dangerous than he truly was. “You might seek instead the opinion of my dearest uncle Simon. He is the castellan and knows both it and the Riverlands far better than I do, as I’ve been here during most of this recent infighting. ”

Wylde humphed, twitching his nose in such a way that his bushy mustache reminded Alicent of a walrus she’d seen at Driftmark. She dug her nails into her palm to hold back her laugh. “Should we offer the Tullys more incentive?” Wylde blustered, reaching for a solution that he could take credit for.

“Incentive for not letting their bannerman destroy harvests?” Tyland Lannister snorted, reclined in his chair as if he were the one running the meeting. “That’s their duty. If they can’t do it, then there’s a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps a betrothal,” Lord Beesbury spoke up, his eyes darting from Larys’ to hers. Alicent straightened, watching the man try to figure out how to present his own suggestion. “The Tullys are proud, and the Riverlands command a great host when they come together. Lord Tully’s great-grandson is around Princess Helaena’s age. It would be a show of friendship and goodwill.”

“A show of a dragon is what you mean, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice cut in smoothly, but she could see the annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of Helaena being sent to the Riverlands. She did not want her sweet girl sent so far away either, but his words hurt in their easy protectiveness of her daughter, when they had never done for herself.

“Dragons are a statement, my Lord Hand. If not the princess, perhaps… Lord Strong, your youngest sister is not yet married,” Beesbury continued, flush with ideas. Was Rhaenyra feeding them to him?

“If Grover Tully, or whomever is handling their seat, cannot bring them to heel, we should have the Lords Bracken and Blackwood come and explain themselves to the crown,” she cut in before Beesbury could really get his momentum going. Heads turned to look at her, and Alicent looked to the Grand Maester. “Send ravens today. By the moon’s turn, I want them before the Iron Throne explaining themselves.” There was a curl of satisfaction on her lips as the aging Mellos gestured to his assistant. “We should also have Lord Tully, or his son, also come to answer. I know Lord Grover has been recently ill,” she continued. Authority and compassion were the balance she must always strike, so that her decisions could not be questioned, her judgment nothing but sound. She was the Mother of the Realm after all.

“Well said, your Grace,” Larys said softly, that shadow blink of a smile on his face. Lord Beesbury’s suggestions were easily dismissed.

Tension knotted between her shoulder blades, and she shifted in her chair to relieve the pain. She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as her father’s warning spun dizzily through her thoughts.

Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

That morning, Ser Criston found the boy who might be king passed out in the stables with his cock in hand; at least her father hadn’t found out. Alicent felt nauseated at the idea of sacrificing a girl barely younger than she’d been in an attempt to corral her son into leadership.

The doors of the chamber opened. Ser Harrold Westerling entered the room with the head dragonkeeper, Arryx, following behind. Her father rose not in a show of respect for the Kingsguard Commander, but some show of power - the unyielding stone and height of the tower that would not bow to neither wind nor storm.

“Forgive my tardiness, your Grace, my lords.”

Her father waved a hand and sat back down. “We were told that you were attending to an urgent matter, Lord Commander.”

Ser Harrold clasped his arm across his chest and bowed to her. “This morning, I was alerted to events that transpired last night inside of the dragonpit. Keeper Arryx wanted to speak of the matter to you personally.” Ser Harrold stepped back to allow the aging keeper to take the floor. Alicent gave her own nod to the man as he rose from his prostration.

“Dreamfyre has laid another clutch of eggs. Only three, your Grace, and she will let no one near them. Vhagar has been circling,” Arryx said.

Alicent frowned. Dreamfyre had not laid a clutch in several years now, and Vhagar rarely came to the pit. She was too old, too large, with little desire to be kept with her smaller brethren. The horrific beast preferred a rocky outcropping far out into the bay.

Aemond had given her a quizzical look when she’d brought it up once, when he was still bedridden and recovering from his mutilation. Her sweet boy was now strung through with a confidence that she’d never seen ignite within him when he had both eyes. The dangerous glint that confidence took as he’d grown older was also new.

She’s protecting what is hers, mother. We both are, he’d said.

“I have spoken with the Commander of the City Watch, your Grace, to ensure that those in the areas closest to the pit keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. It has allowed us to take stock of the current state of those neighborhoods.” Ser Harrold turned to look at Ser Otto. “A full report will be on your desk.”

Her father nodded, and Ser Harrold looked once more to the keeper.

Arryx shifted on his feet, and Alicent watched his eyes flick to the Grand Maester with an expression that she could not discern. The Citadel and the Hightowers have always stood side by side for the betterment of the realm, Alicent, and you’ll continue to foster that friendship, won’t you?

“Five of the kitlings have also died, your Grace. They were unbonded, brought from Dragonstone before…”

Before Daemon had come back.

“How many dragons does this put us at?” Her father’s deceptively mild tone was the opposite of his glee when Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The numbers requested were ones he’d calculated in his head, monthly, since he’d come back.

“Claimed, my lord?” Arryx asked, pausing momentarily. “Eleven, throughout the family. Lady Rhaena’s dragon hatched, but it was born twisted and sickly and did not last. I have not received word otherwise of any intention for Lady Rhaena to come and try to claim another dragon.”

Half of the dragons were claimed. Alicent watched her father drum his fingers along the table. Identifying the pattern took only a moment. He was counting.

Specifically, the dragons that were on their side.

“I want reports of the necropsies upon their completion,” her father said with a narrowed and assessing look, disturbed by the news. “The last thing we need is some strange illness to rip through all of them.”

Alicent chewed on the inside of her lip and watched the shining outline of the seven-pointed star beaming down on the table.

“Syrax is almost big enough for two riders now. Will you come touch the clouds with me, Alicent? Please?” Rhaenyra had always begged, mouth close to her ear, hands stroking her arms, her wounded and bloody fingers.

The joyful look that Aegon once gave her now reserved for a beast: “I’ve never known love until Sunfyre, mother. It’s like the world has color now that we’re together.”

“Dreamfyre keeps me tethered to the ground even as I fly in my dreams. She’s the only anchor I have,” said Helaena, who would withdraw from her touch as if it were a sting from a bee.

Little Daeron and his dragon clutched in his arms: “I can’t leave Tessarion behind, mother! I won’t know how to be happy without her!”

Dragons had robbed Alicent of everything.

“Thank you, Arryx. I will speak to the children and see what Prince Aemond might do about Vhagar.” The idea of her sweet, once immaculate and tender-hearted child being near that twisted, hoary thing still terrified her, no matter how gently reassuring Aemond could be.

Arryx did not move to leave just yet. “Forgive me, your Grace, but Vhagar is no Vermithor or Sunfyre: she is old and willful, and although she is bonded with our prince, I would suggest caution. He is… young, and Vhagar was forged in the fires of battle.”

He bowed once more before taking his leave.

Even in indescribable pain, in the face of his own father’s disregard and disdain, Aemond sought to soothe her. “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

What else would her father do to get more dragons on their side?

Nervous tension pulsed in the silence left when the doors closed behind the dragonkeeper, filled only by the soft creak of the Kingsguard’s mail and the gentle clink of the chain around Grand Maester Mellos’ neck as he shifted in his chair, barely audible. The enduring mystery and curiosity of dragons was a specter of The Stranger above them all. Alicent had heard her kingly husband remind Rhaenyra repeatedly: Dragons were not pets. The bond with them should not blind their riders to the power that thrummed ancient and thick in their veins.

She breathed slowly, letting the quiet ease, refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes as the tumult of feelings inside of her crashed upon the jagged edges of her broken ribs. This was the right choice. Her babies were only half-Targaryen, and Rhaenyra’s bastards were the same, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

Everyone in the room had grown up with the stories that the Conquerors spread when they forged the throne: The Valyrian blood magic that had made them dragonriders was only to be found in their Targaryen blood. That bloodline needed to remain pure. Yet, Rhaena’s pure Valyrian blood did not save her first dragon from being born sickly and dying quickly, while Aemond - Targaryen only by half - bonded with Vhagar, the most powerful beast in the world.

There were no further reasons to believe the Targaryens were gods after all, and above the realm they had conquered.

The great chair of the King creaked as she slowly rose, taking in the council before her. There were no Targaryens in this room, even if she had birthed her own clutch of half-dragons. Alicent bore this task without joy or fanfare. It was a duty to be endured for the good of her family, for the good of her realm.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, the image of the Mother of the Realm. Alicent had done this once before, when she had declared that she was standing in an official capacity for her husband.

“My lords of the council,” She hedged a glance at her father before moving her gaze to each man at the table. Ladies of the realm should be on the council. “It is with great joy and love that the King and myself, with Lord Larys Strong, announce to the small council that we have arranged the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, and Lady Abrogail Strong.”

Each of the lords straightened in their chairs. Lord Beesbury frowned and glanced away from her. The uncertain and uncomfortable shifting in his chair belied the embarrassment he was attempting to hide. Alicent felt no need to point it out. It was a fine idea that he’d presented and not his fault he did not know what had already been decided. Even if he was Rhaenyra’s lapdog, Alicent would be the better person, and not rub his face in it.

The congratulations buzzed in her ears as she sat back down in her chair, and beneath the table, she tore at the skin along her left thumbnail. The pain was as dull as the congratulations in her ears. Her father’s voice was distant, jovial even.

They hadn’t even told Aegon and Abrogail yet. She remembered standing in the same position, knowing what was coming, knowing what it would destroy and desperately hoping that it might not.

I have decided to take a new wife. I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before Spring’s end.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Rhaenyra forgive me forgivemeforgiveme.

“A feast is in order to announce Prince Aegon and Lady Abrogail’s betrothal,” Tyland’s jovial tone broke the silence. His suggestion—or statement, depending on how Alicent took it—was not one that she’d expected when she sat down in Viserys’ chair, but welcomed the confirmation of his support.

Meanwhile, Larys’s expression gave nothing away. He simply inclined his head in agreement.

Her son — her trueborn son — for all his faults, deserved to be celebrated. She was happy she didn’t have to fight for this. It was Mellos who spoke next: “Given the last wedding that was celebrated within these halls, it would be a reassuring gesture to the Lords of the Realm if they were given the opportunity, and for us to show unity within House Targaryen. With the Prince’s nameday in a few moons, perhaps we can celebrate with a tournament.”

Alicent’s eyes cut to her father, who smiled lightly, nodding in agreement but careful not to say a word, allowing the Maester to be responsible for the idea.

“Even better,” Tyland raised his goblet in agreement. “We haven’t had a proper celebration in years. What better occasion? Lord Rickard Reyne will be overjoyed to hear the honor bestowed on his granddaughter.” He looked over at her father. “I take it you’ll be writing to him, Lord Hand?”

The last time Alicent had seen her uncle Lord Rickard had been at her mother’s funeral: now no longer the worst day of her life, but the memory that was still seared into her mind. She recalled Lord Reyne as a stoic man, but he’d been kind to her in her grief. Alicent hoped the years had not taken that away from him, but they likely had.

Time always stole away kindness.

Lord Beesbury looked pensive. Alicent could practically hear the man pushing house markers along the map in his head as the conversation continued. “Was Princess Rhaenyra involved in such a discussion?”

“The Princess Rhaenyra has continued to seclude herself and,” he paused, his gaze heavy and considering as he took in those around the table. “Her second husband, Daemon Targaryen, at Dragonstone. Neither has she come to the small council as her status allows, nor has she engaged with matters of the realm that her being heir gives her right to,” her father said smoothly, and he was right. “The king still grieves his daughter’s choices, and she has yet to amend with him. I agree with Lord Lannister and our Grand Maester. This would show the strength and unity and willingness of House Targaryen to bond and celebrate with the realm.”

Beesbury gave a humorless chuckle. “And nothing to do with presenting Prince Aegon formally.” As a contender. As a choice - that was left unsaid.

Alicent felt a surge of anger inside of her, instinct compelling her to protect her children and pull the wool Viserys and Rhaenyra spun from Beesbury’s eyes so he could see the truths they refused to acknowledge.

Not long after Aemond had been born, Lord Lyonel had enlisted her in trying to get Viserys to hold another declaration to follow Rhaenyra, if she was truly his desired heir even with two healthy boys of his blood. The King had originally chosen Rhaenyra because of the loss of Baelon and Aemma. Everyone wanted to keep Daemon off the throne, lest he became another Maegor the Cruel… and now, he was to be Rhaenyra’s consort, and Viserys still would do nothing. Alicent refused to believe that Rhaenyra would kill her half-siblings, that she would kill Alicent’s children for whatever love had been there. Every dark, curly haired little boy caused her to fear not what Rhaenyra would decide, but what others would encourage her to do. Her father had not been wrong - her sons would be beacons of rebellion, damned by the man who had so desperately craved a son, yet now ignored. How bitter a pill.

Daemon terrified her. They should all be terrified of him. Daemon now had Rhaenyra’s ear and her heart and her body. Daemon was not one to hesitate if something stood in his way.

Did you fuck Daemon Targaryen in a pleasure house? Targaryens have such queer customs.

“Prince Aegon is eight and ten, an accomplished dragonrider, ah…” Mellos trailed off, and the uncertainty on his face clawed at Alicent’s insides. Failure was acid in her throat.

Either you prepare Aegon…

That boy who would be king had groped six serving girls at the last feast before drinking and whoring his way through the Street of Silk.

“My sister and heir is of unimpeachable character,” Larys’ quiet voice carried within the room. “As a child, Abrogail was a playmate of Prince Aegon and his siblings, and she has become a beloved ward of Queen Alicent, who has done a remarkable job of raising her after the deaths of our parents. I would consider her to be a prime example of all our realm offers to a family that has, if I may be candid, gone to great lengths to keep to their own since the conquest. Wouldn’t you agree, Grand Maester?”

That poor girl she’d now chained to him was a picture of the Maiden. It had taken everything to ensure that her father waited for it. She would not have another bride offered to the throne before she was of age, while her father wanted nothing more than for Aegon to grow up.

Tension crept back into the room at Larys’ words. Nobody would think to utter these thoughts had Viserys been sitting there. Mellos cleared his throat and avoided her father’s gaze to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. The title of Grand Maester had been his even before Viserys’ reign, and he was possibly the closest representative that was not her to speak to Viserys’ mind.

“I would agree, Lord Strong. Perhaps even exploring the eventuality of wedding Prince Aegon’s children to Prince Jacaerys’ would… reassure Princess Rhaenyra. She once suggested a betrothal between Princess Helaena and-”

“We already have other candidates in mind for my daughter,” Alicent cut in immediately. She wouldn’t say anything about Jace’s children and future grandchildren. She refused to entertain the idea that Helaena would marry Rhaneyra’s son to cover her indignity and insult to everything that she had been given and born into. “We have time before the wedding,” she said with a gentler tone. “A year should be more than enough to introduce them to the realm and start introducing Prince Aegon to newer responsibilities befitting his station.”

That was time enough to beat her son into someone who could be King.

Morning light streamed through the gauzy, sage curtains of the princess’ room. Abrogail licked the honey clinging to her fingers as she moved towards the washbasin, abandoning half-eaten bread and cold cuts of meat at the table. Helaena also ignored their meal as she lingered at the only window that could give her a good view of the Dragonpit. Vhagar had been on the prowl that morning, unusually territorial, and the change in the dragon’s temperament had entranced the friend whom she called sister. She jumped when Abby ventured near her, eyes wide and body tense as a startled cat, so the redhead pivoted in the opposite direction in order to retrieve Helaena’s bodice. Normally, she did not wear one unless the Queen noticed, but on days when her mind drifted, the structure of the garment seemed to keep Helaena focused on the moment instead of her dreams. The princess was somewhere else in her thoughts, mechanically holding up her arms to have the bodice slipped over her shift.

“I’m going to tighten the laces now, alright, Helaena?” Abrogail told the princess as she always did, walking through the process so she wasn’t surprised by anything.

Helaena gave no verbal indication that she was listening, but Abby noticed her pale blonde head bob in acceptance. Slowly, she began straightening the garment, mindful of keeping her touch on the lacing and the chemise from pulling and pinching uncomfortably and defeating the purpose.

“Pink and red, he might be dead. Blue and black, no coming back,” Helaena murmured. Her gaze drifted to Myrella Penrose, who approached with a yellow, diamond patterned dress for inspection. “I don’t want my scales to be so bright.” Helaena’s voice did not rise from her quiet tone, and her gaze flitted away.

“How about the new one from Sevenmas?” Abby offered brightly before Myrella’s face could twist into the uncertain and disturbed look it took whenever Helaena drifted. “The ocean blue one with the beading. That’ll be nice to feel, right, Helaena?”

The princess tilted her head about, humming. “Yes, that would be.” She threaded her fingers together, pressing in so the knuckles would crack. Myrella visibly winced at the sound, but Abby just shook her head and carefully tucked the laces into the bodice. “The perfect hug,” came the breathless statement, before Helaena’s bright lavender eyes finally focused away from whatever she was tracking to turn around and look towards her. Abby took the dress from Myrella and offered her cousin a smile as she held it up. She was used to Helaena’s inquisitive gazes, as if she was a bug under the pretty Maester’s glass Aemond had gifted his sister. “Do you need them, too?”

“A hug?” Abby frowned.

“Scales - armor to protect you,” she clarified. Helaena held her arms up to slide the dress over her head, and Abby left her to do the little buttons down the front herself. “Or would you prefer a pretty carapace? Silver and reds, greens and blue. Pinks and black and gold.”

Abby laughed at the idea of being covered in so many colors, and Helaena even returned the smile as she finished her buttons. It was a good sign, and the tingle of worry that had been crawling up and down along her spine immediately eased. “To be decorated in so many colors? That would make for lovely armor.”

Helaena’s mood was improving, which meant that when the Queen finally came in, she wouldn’t immediately launch into fretting and worrying about the princess being in ‘one of her episodes.’ Abby knew the Queen did not mean it badly, but it still made her uncomfortable. Were her mother still there, she would say something if Abby expressed her concern. She was alone here now, and things were as different as the day and night.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Alicent who entered. Helaena’s little smile turned bright and beaming: “Aemond!”

At four and ten, the boy was steadily growing with each passing turn of the moon. While bypassing Abrogail in height was no difficult feat, he now stood as tall as his sister and mother. Prince Aegon was the next family member he was bound to outgrow, and the Queen had already tasked her with ordering clothes to be made ready for when Aemond shot up again. Lord Otto towered over most, and he japed that Aemond might make it where Aegon had failed to surpass him.

Hearing Helaena’s joyous declaration, Abby caught a spray of pink blooming on his pale cheeks, and Aemond reached up to adjust the soft leather strap of his eyepatch. The scar no longer looked angry, but it was prominent; a ridge of thick skin that was only just smoothing out with time. The prince held a jar carefully in his hands. He took several steps before Abby clucked her tongue at him the way she would at her own cat, though Theraxis had not joined her that morning in Helaena’s room. Earlier, a maid brought along with their meals news that the cat was gallivanting in the discarded feathers while the scullery maids plucked chickens.

“Your mother will be up any minute. She said she doesn’t want to catch you in here anymore,” Abby warned with an arched brow. There was no censure in her teasing tone. Aemond was nearly her own little brother, although much was changing as they left their childhoods behind.

“She won’t be here for him,” Helaena said in a voice far more present than it had been before, Aemond’s very presence pulling her back down to earth and away from the clouds. “What did you bring me?” Even though her buttons were only half-done, Helaena rushed across the room to Aemond with her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Oh! It’s beautiful! Abby! Look!” She held up the jar filled with little sticks and leaves – a fat blue and yellow cocoon precariously hanging from one forked stick inside. “I wonder if it belongs to the ones I released last year.”

“You’ll be the mother of all the moths and butterflies in the Red Keep,” Aemond said softly, so softly that Abby could hardly hear him despite standing close by.

Abrogail moved away from the siblings, smiling at Myrella and leading the woman to the opened door. “Thank you for your help this morning. I believe the Queen will need you more today. Let her know we’ll be going to the gardens later, if you please.” Lately, the Queen had been sending the Penrose woman to help Abby tend to the princess’ needs. It had made her nervous. When she asked the Queen if she was being replaced, the words stuck to her throat. Her Grace had been adamant that it was not the case at all, that it was only so Abrogail could learn from her in preparation for her own running of a household, and give Helaena time to get used to someone else helping her.

Another part of Abby wondered if the Queen knew Aemond was still coming to visit in the morning. Or worse, that Uncle Otto was spying. Abby was protective of her friends, her kin. They were siblings bonded through the years of fights in the mud and pranks and stories in the nursery. Bonds such as theirs were not so easily broken; they only changed as time passed, as things happened, like Aemond losing an eye.

Myrella Penrose gave her a tight smile and left down the hall. Abby watched her go, lingering in the door as Aemond and Helaena whispered in the room. Her friend’s quiet giggles were a rare sound, and Abby would do anything to protect those moments for her, for them both. She tugged at the embroidered cuffs of her dark blue-gray dress, thumbs brushing the little weirwood leaves sewn in delicate scarlet thread. Little golden dragons danced through them as a symbol of her ties with the family. Aegon had picked the golden thread, predictable as ever, when she’d asked his opinion.

She thought of the embroidered knot Helaena had been making – silver and green, tangling with red and black and gold. There were so many twists, but Helaena assured her that there was a rhyme to it, a dance with complicated steps. Aemond’s soft laugh cracked a bit, and Abby bit her lower lip to hide her giggle at the sound. She turned her head, and while she couldn’t quite make them out, she could see their shadows along the stone floor. They stood close together, heads bowed over something - maybe the jar, she couldn’t tell.

Heavy and purposeful footsteps echoed down the hall. Abby’s head snapped up from where she stood within the doorway, not immediately visible. She strained to identify the cadence, and her stomach twisted when she did.

“It’s him,” she hissed, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. Aemond’s head was close to Helaena’s with her hands resting on his shoulders. At Abby’s raised alarm, her fingers twisted in his dark green doublet and yanked him towards the partition, shoving him behind it. Abby snatched the jar with the precious cocoon inside and tucked it on the bookshelf behind the embroidered manticore Helaena had just finished. Otto Hightower’s footsteps were not alone, although the Hightower guards did not enter the Princess’ room when he swept in. Abby immediately dropped into a curtsy, a murmur of, “Lord Uncle.” Helaena bobbed slightly, twisting back and forth a bit. “Good morning, grandfather,” she said, bounding up to press a kiss on his cheek. If Otto had any weakness, it would be his unparalleled love and favoritism of his granddaughter. It was hard to tell how much Helaena enjoyed her grandfather’s attention and how much was one of her games, but whatever it was, it worked.

“Good morning, sweet girl. You look lovely today.” Otto’s voice was fond, his smile more gentle than he seemed capable of. He was an intimidating man. Abby had received nothing but kindness and vague disinterest, but he still made her nervous. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to borrow your cousin.” She felt her cheeks color as Otto’s gaze moved to her. Her mouth dried as her nerves returned to where they’d been when standing before the Queen, wondering if she was being replaced. Perhaps Larys was sending her back to Harrenhal or her sister was demanding she go to her in Casterly Rock.

Helaena smiled at her, though, with her hands folded across her stomach. “I’ll help you with your carapace later,” she reassured her. “You won’t be without armor.”

Closing the door behind them, the Hightower guards followed a few paces behind as Abby fell in step with him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked as they went left instead of right, towards the Hand’s tower. It had been years since she’d walked this path that had been as familiar to her as the gardens of the Red Keep. Her eyes glanced for the loose stone at the corner of the step, where she’d stow secret messages in the little hollow behind it. Had she left a note there? Was there perhaps a mystery one waiting for her?

“It is. And I hope you have been well yourself.” Lord Otto looked down at her gently, and she nodded. “The Queen says you pray often in the Sept?”

A prompt. A strange one, but a prompt all the same. She swallowed past her dry mouth and put a smile on her face. “Yes, I enjoy the quiet, and it helps me feel closer to my parents.” And brother, but she was careful not to mention Harwin around anyone but a handful. “It’s especially nice when her Grace joins me. It’s almost like I have my mother back.” No one could replace her mother, but the Queen had been there for as long as she could remember, and sometimes, when she tilted her head a certain way and the light caught in Queen Alicent’s auburn curls, she could pretend her mother was there once more.

“Her Grace speaks highly of you – how good you are with Princess Helaena, well behaved and polite. She said that you and the princess have made things for the poor children of the city. A very kind and admirable pursuit for you both. Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say or what he was getting at as they began climbing the winding staircase. The familiarity of it hit her like a scent memory - one sudden and revealing of long-forgotten feelings. “I do my best to follow the Queen’s guidance and reflect well on my position within the family and her example.”

“Good. Very good.” She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, so she hedged her bets and remained quiet. Her palms were sweating, and she discreetly wiped them on her skirt as she held the fabric. “I’ve noticed that you and Prince Aegon do not spend as much time together as you used to.”

Aegon? Why was she being asked about Aegon? Her stomach twisted, and she felt a prickle of heat along the back of her neck. It was true: they didn’t spend as much time together, but they hadn’t for years now, not since she spent more of her time with Helaena and… Aegon? Well, Aegon had been withdrawing slowly but surely for so long, like fraying threads at the seams. She’d be lying if she claimed to not miss him, because she did. She missed the happier boy he’d been, who did not constantly ply himself with drink and was more mercurial than a wild dragon.

Abrogail would also be lying if she claimed they saw little of one another, or spent no time at all because that was untrue as well. Until the past few moons, she’d gather lunch for the two of them when he finally rose well past noon, and he’d take her flying wherever he and Sunfyre desired to go. It had been something quiet and cherished, simply the three of them away from everything. Until Aegon had gotten in the tavern brawl all that time ago. Until Aegon started avoiding her. Until he barely acknowledged her at meals that he decided to join, even when he sat beside her. There was no way that Otto Hightower would not be aware of that, and she would not hedge around it. It wasn’t like anything untoward was happening.

“Not as much, but that is a natural casualty of leaving behind childhood. He found me earlier this week because it seemed there was a lack of honey cakes in the kitchen and I was the first to be interrogated.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and Abby smiled in memory of his indignation and how silly he looked when she shoved honey cake into his mouth to stop his ranting. “He occasionally accompanies me in the Sept to pray. It’s incredibly kind of him to do so.”

She mounted a few more steps before realizing that Lord Hightower had paused. She turned to look at him. Morning light streaked through the narrow, delicate paned windows, casting shadow and illuminating dust in the air. He stared up at her, and with a few steps between them, she stood at his height. It was the first time she’d ever met her uncle’s eyes. Unlike her own unreadable brother, Otto’s face was not so impassive. He looked intrigued by her admission. Abby’s hands wound into her skirt so as not to fidget.

“He was not inappropriate, if that is your concern, my lord. Prince Aegon behaved with due respect.” To defend Aegon was second nature to her, and she would do so towards arguably the most powerful man in the realm if it meant to spare Aegon more shame and ire when, for once, he’d done nothing wrong. Which was true. Aegon hadn’t said a single thing. He knelt beside her, lighting candles, and simply stayed with her while she prayed for her family. He hadn’t even put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She felt that was worth mentioning, given his current proclivities. She would not deny his vices, but she would not break confidence, and she would let no one, especially Lord Otto, think any worse of him if she could help it.

“Very good.” It took everything in her to keep the bewilderment off her face as she tried to understand what exactly he was trying to figure out. Otto resumed their progress, although now he rested a heavy hand between her shoulder blades like a father guiding a child. “So, you have no current complications with him?”

Complications? Did he think she’d lifted her skirts for Aegon? It wasn’t like she’d never thought of kissing him on those lazy afternoons when they’d lay in the grass and stare at the sky somewhere in the Kingswood with Sunfyre sunning himself like a cat. Of course she’d thought about kissing him, especially when he was at his most melancholy, with tears pooling in his eyes, making them pinker than normal. A kiss beyond the games children play, a kiss to comfort an angry prince in the firelight’s glow, his tears coursing down his cheeks with each snip of her embroidery scissors that sent locks of moonlight hair to the ground.

He’d never touched her more than a handhold, and far less than she touched him in her casual affections.

“No. No complications,” she confirmed.

They reached the landing, and Abby ran her hand over the stone dragon curled up in eternal sleep at the top of the stairs. Her fingers scratched along the smooth curve of its head the way she’d done every morning when she visited her father. She felt her uncle’s gaze on her, and she drew her hand away, hurrying to follow him into his office with her cheeks burning beneath her freckles, relieved only just by his vaguely amused expression.

The room was darker than it had been before. Gone were the stacks of books with various slips of paper sticking out haphazardly, or Theraxis lounging lazily along the cool stone floor by the door with his fluffy tail, sending motes of dust into the air. She instinctively clutched her skirt on the right to pull them away, so used to a giant paw the size of her hand grabbing at the fluttering fabric. But Theraxis was not there. The crumbling tome about the Andal invasion was absent from where it once rested on the side table. Instead, Larys stood by the fire with his back to her, as did the Queen, her lovely green dress covering her from neck to wrist with a golden pattern woven in the fabric that caught the firelight. Her face pinched in the way it did when she was uncertain and trying not to pick at her nails.

Abby noticed, of course. It usually meant that someone was about to get yelled at or she would send them away with the other ladies.

The figure in the chair slouched so far down that his silver head nearly vanished behind the back of it. At the clearing of Lord Otto’s throat, Aegon jerked up. His whole body held so much tension that it made Abby’s own hurt just by looking at him. He peered over his shoulder at them with glossy, red-rimmed eyes that give him a strange, ethereal sort of gaze, skin pale enough to prominently display the flushed pink mottling of a strike against his right cheek. He looked stuffy and uncomfortable in his dark green doublet, his fingers absently tugging at the buttons and collar. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and darted from the uncertainty she knew was on her own face to his grandfather behind her.

The thud as Otto shut the door reverberated through her, and she and Aegon both flinched at the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see the Queen flinch as well. Larys, as always, looked unphased. The heavy hand on her back pushed her towards the empty chair closer to the fire, and she had no time to bob a curtsy; courtesies stuck like toffee in her mouth.

The chairs once held the delicately embroidered pillows her mother made. She would curl up with them and read aloud from the books scattered around while her papa worked. He would-

“Queen Alicent and Lord Larys have received several letters expressing interest in you, Abrogail,” Otto said, walking behind his desk. She dug her thumbnail into the pad of her middle finger, and she saw Aegon’s booted foot twitch on the flagstone – a rocking motion from the ball of his foot to his heel before slapping it back down beneath the desk. Wood crackled in the fireplace. “Lord Farman is looking for a wife for his eldest, and Faircastle would be close to your sister.”

He plucked a scroll from the basket as he spoke, and Abby felt her stomach churn with nerves as a red heat clawed along her throat. She did not venture a look at Aegon, save for the foot he kept rocking back, the heel he repeatedly ground into the floor. He’d not gone back to slouching. He could be indolent and rude when he wanted, but not even Aegon dared to in his grandfather’s presence. Abby didn’t understand what this was about, or why Aegon was here.

“Edmund Vance, the heir to House Vance, recently lost his wife. A good man, and part of the Riverlands although a small seat. Or, if you married Jesper Celtigar, the heir of Crackclaw, you’d be able to remain in King’s Landing.”

Otto Hightower produced scroll after scroll and Abrogail felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, confusion keeping her words locked away. How was she supposed to react to all of this? What was he trying to say? Were all these marriage proposals meant to make her feel better about herself? No, that was too odd to contemplate.

Why was Aegon here?

“Lord Grover has also written of his interest in you for his grandson. A Paramount seat would let you be close to your home at Harrenhal, and he already has an heir. He would take good care of you, and your children would have every opportunity.” Another scroll plucked from the basket. “It would bring Harrenhal into their holdings. Is that not correct, Lord Larys?”

Right. Harrenhal.

A woman’s lot is to only be worth what she could bring to the table.

Her brother was a man of few words, and he inclined his head with a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Abby looked at the queen to find that her face was pinching harder. In the interim, Queen Alicent stepped away from the fire and moved instead to the desk with the gentle swoosh of her skirts gliding across the stone. She cleared her throat, a smile fighting its way on her face.

“All the offers were wonderful for you, my sweet girl, but none seemed right.” The Queen reached out to tuck a copper curl behind her ear, and Abby could not tell if this was supposed to be comforting to her or if the Queen sought comfort in the action for herself. Her lungs felt constricted, and it finally dawned on her.

Oh.

The sole of Aegon’s boot continued to drag across the stone in both a nervous fidget and to keep himself from slouching down even further into the chair. The only reason she could hear it was because of how focused she’d been on it, but now blood rushed into her head and Abby broke eye contact with her cousin to look down in her lap.

“What does seem right is for you and Aegon to be married, after your nameday. You’ll be eight and ten, and the pair of you will go to live at Harrenhal, and make your home there.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking serious?” Aegon’s voice was a hoarse, disused rasp from a night with endless drink. When she looked at him again, she noticed that his hair was still damp, and that beads of water from the wet ends had soaked little spots into the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t looking at her, but up at his mother, and then, incredulously, across the desk at his grandfather.

Otto’s face remained impassive following his grandson’s outburst. Abby wanted to grab Aegon and drag him out of the way of whatever was about to come out of the Hand’s mouth, as if the words would physically harm him.

The silence lengthened. Another log popped in the fireplace.

“He speaks.” The amusement in Otto’s voice caused Aegon to draw back further into his chair before he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were so red-rimmed, and his sullen face was so terribly pale that the pink-lilac of his eyes stood out ethereally, inhumanly like the drawing of a fae folk from a book she had as a child - wild and cornered. He’d bitten his pouty, chapped lips bloody.

Aegon searched her face for an answer to a question that she did not know. The only thing Abrogail could do was give him the gentle, reassuring smile she’d given him countless times before. It was what she did in this world: comfort her loved ones in any way possible, even as she needed to bury her own feelings on the matter. Feelings that, in this particular case, she couldn’t even begin untangling in the moment.

“Well, that makes us luckier than most, doesn’t it?” Abby cleared her throat and turned the smile onto the others in the room. She reached up to grasp the Queen’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before she burst into a million pieces. Whether it was her, or the Queen, that might burst, she could not say. “We are fortunate to know one another so well and to be of an age. I thank you Lord Hightower, your Grace.” She looked at Larys, who remained silent in his observations, as always – an owl in a tree, eyes taking in everything. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me.”

She felt Aegon’s eyes continue to pin on her. She looked back at him.

The wild and anxious expression was still on his face, and instinct compelled her, as it often did, to reach out her hand to take his - but he surprised her by beating her to it. His skin felt like fire engulfing her frigid hand and his fingers tangled with hers with easy familiarity. Before she could register what was happening, Aegon’s chair was already scraping across the floor and he pulled her from her chair with the momentum of jumping from his own. There was no pause in his movement as he dragged her to the door.

“How very fortunate we are.” A laugh bubbled from Aegon’s chest. It was a joyless sound when he laughed in the presence of his mother and grandsire. It was edged with the familiar mania; Aegon laughed when he was afraid, when he was anxious, when he was trying not to scream as his world was coming apart, or the laughter and joy on the back of Sunfyre. He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling before throwing a look over his shoulder at the three across the room. “How very lucky we are.”

Aegon’s hand was clammy around hers, his grip bordering on painful. He yanked the door open with a protesting whine of the latch. Abby heard the Queen calling after him, but Aegon’s strides were purposeful as they ate up the ground to get away. Only the grip of their hands kept her from being left behind in the claustrophobic room where their future was being decided for them.

It might have been the second bravest thing she’d ever witnessed from him.

[Chapter Two]

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon x abby #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #my fics

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darklinaforever · 18 days

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Apparently it's misogynistic now to tell the truth that Alicent was the one who acted like a prostitute / whore in HOTD with the Larys case.

For what ?

A prostitute is literally a woman who exchanges sexual favors for money. Alicent also carries out a form of exchange through sex, except that instead of money, she obtains informations. Which is closest to the definition of prostitute that exists.

But apparently it's misogynistic to say that ?

In fact, just saying bad things about female characters is supposed to be misogynistic at this point with that kind of stupid reasoning...

And the reason why I have no hesitation in describing Alicent like that is because her stans never hesitate to call Rhaenyra a whore (and sometimes even sending me requests insulting Rhaenyra as a whore), under the pretext that she had children with a man who she chose outside of her forced marriage, which has nothing to do with it.

So yes, I would allow myself to say that Alicent Hightower, in HOTD, behaved like a prostitute / whore, or at least came very close to one.

This is also why I won't tell the antis Alicent who send me requests insulting this character of whore to stop.

Already, because Alicent stans and antis Rhaenyra do not have the courtesy to stop themselves insulting the Rhaenyra character or sending insulting requests to her stans, including me, by making horrible misogynistic comments. Why should I act politely when they don't ?

And then, ironically because Alicent really behaved like a prostitute in this show with the Larys scene, whether her fans and neutrals liked it or not.

And it's not misogynistic to tell this simple truth.

Especially since once again, if there is something very misogynistic in the matter, it is this writing. For having done this scene.

Because why does it exist ?!

It's not in the book, but the show seems obsessed with making Alicent a perpetual victim of men, claiming that she is supposedly more feminist in comparison to her book counterpart, a cunning and clever woman desiring power and doing everything to achieve it. (I miss this Alicent so much...)

And no, there's nothing feminist about HOTD's writing, and even less more feminist than Fire and Blood, especially for Alicent Hightower character.

This obsession that the writers have with portraying her as a victim makes no sense, (just like with the fact of having rejuvenated the character of Alicent to try again to make her a victim...), but especially in the case of Larys.

Alicent is the fucking queen.

There's no reason Larys would be able to force her to do this sort of thing, even with the story of Harwin's death and his father.

Again, Alicent is the fucking queen ! This situation is simply ridiculous !

Not only that, but it's also essentially a scene there to simply add trash and more gratuitous violence towards women (as if Fire and Blood didn't already have enough ?), although once again, this scene makes no sense, because a situation like this shouldn't be allowed to happen.

Whatever he knows, that was my rant for today.

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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I’ve got you darling

*Authors note{ I am writing this as a purely indulgent fic for myself. Something I deal with regularly and honestly after today's episode I could just use the comforting from our favourite lady. I wrote this fic listening to my immortal by Evanescence*

Trigger warnings~ mentions bpd and faints

Prompt~ r has fainting episodes and Larissa knows because they are in a secret relationship. She's use to dealing with it and r has call signs to help. In a meeting r feels an episode coming on in front of other professors

✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭

You had been dealing with this since your teenage years. It first presented itself at the ripe age of eleven years old. At first you thought it could be connected to your ability to feel emotions and manipulate them. After all that could be quite stressful. But then it began to happen more frequently. Even when you were alone feeling nothing but your own feelings. So it couldn't be that. You'd seen countless doctors especially after an episode but it seemed untraceable. Unless they caught you in the episode it was as if nothing had occurred. Countless blood tests and heart tracings couldn't pick up any reason for this. It was frustrating and confusing. But ultimately something you learned to deal with.

:readmore:

In your later teen years you were told you had Borderline Personality Disorder. Ironically your rough childhood had left you with many scars, only this one having a name. You began to see the signs of manic splits and even how each persona has their own quirks and traits. Ultimately they were all you but at the same time separate from you. That's why you named them. It made it easier to keep track of who was switched into the body. It was only then after naming them were you able to see a particular pattern. Every time you were hit with an episode the same persona would be switched into the body. That made it easier to predict sometimes.

Most times you knew your body and mind and the warning signs it would give you before an episode but sometimes they came at you out of left field. Those were always the worst and where you'd end up the most injured from the fall. Yet you still were scared every single time an episode occurred. It was something you felt embarrassed about, so when you received the job offer for a English teacher in Nevermore Academy you had decided to tell no one unless absolutely necessary.

You're first few months went well, the school was wonderful and the students love you, any episodes were handled discreetly and alone. That was until you began to become close with the one and only Larissa Weems. Before you and Larissa decided to give things ago, you had a few episodes now and all of which you had been able to warn her ahead of time and get yourself into a safe position. The day one hit you out of nowhere, you knew she'd be panicking, you could feel her panic. Yet she handled it perfectly and comforted you through it and after it. She didn't want to leave your side and made everything possible so she could stay with you.

Your relationship was strictly between the two of you. Larissa not wanting to be accused of favouring you because you were her girlfriend. No one else in the staff were aware of your diagnosis and what occurred in faints. You figured you'd cross that bridge when you came to it. Surprisingly enough, you nearly made it through the whole school year without an incident. Nearly.

It was the same routine as always. No hints of anything unusual which is why you headed to the weekly Wednesday staff meeting. You immediately settled into your usual chair right next to where Larissa would sit. Nothing unusual. It wasn't long before the meeting got underway and you were just enjoying hearing the sound of your lovers voice when you felt completely out of this world. Your brain all fuzzy and empty bring the first sign. Then there was the pounding in the back left corner of your brain. You knew you needed to warn Larissa. So you let your hand sink under the table and tap three times on her thigh.

Instantly Larissa recognised your sign and discreetly reassured you "okay now?" To which you relpsond with a nod, one you instantly regretted as the pounding worsened. The next thing to go was your vision, your hand sought purchase on the older women's thigh in a hope to ground yourself and remind yourself you aren't alone. You were vaguely aware of the bickering going on by the rest of the teaching staff over which department needed extra funding. Your gaze empty and unfocused and your head lulling forward and to the side while your eyes rolled back your head, After struggling to stay open.

Larissa noticed and brought her hand discreetly to rub firm slow circles on your back and keeping an eye on your head that was now lulling downwards, that had to be hurting your neck. The others continued to bicker against themselves while Larissa whispered out reassuring words and readjusting your head to ensure your safety. It was painfully obvious that you were in danger of your airways being blocked. "Woah, easy there pretty" she murmured to you now catching the attention of the others in the room. But she paid them no mind and continued watching over you until she could notice the signs of you coming back into consciousness.

You blinked rapidly trying to clear your blurry vision only to be met with concerned eyes from your colleagues. You mumbled out for your Rissa hand desperately searching for then women in an attempt to not be alone. She instantly started to reassure you despite the others presence. "You're okay pretty, it's okay. You're safe okay darling?" Was whispered into your ear as you kept your gaze to the table embarrassed to find everyone's eyes on you.

"Sweet one who do we have with us?" She muttered and you blinked before mumbling "Lilah." In which Larissa knew you were still coming around. Lilah was your healer of sorts and was often present after an episode. But she knew that if she didn't get you to somewhere you felt safe, switches would become erratic and uncontrollable. With a quick wave of her hand the rest of the staff filled out of the room quietly and only when the door shut did you allow yourself to collapse into her arms and soak in all the comfort she was offering up.

Word count ~ 1113

#fanfic #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #larissa x you #asks are always appreciated #anons welcome #larissa weems x reader #principle weems #principleweemsxreader

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hotchfiles · 1 month

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [HALF ASLEEP TAKIN' CHANCES] ❞

pairing: hotch x sitter!reader. summary: there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter. so he finds you. and then he gets home to you adorably sleeping with jack on the couch to spider-man. content warnings: disgustingly cute fluff word count: 1,1k a/n: requested by baby boy @starch1ldz

when aaron offered to financially help with jessica and haley’s father he didn’t think through about how much time would be a new issue, with him around jessica had no time to come and babysit jack like before, especially in a rush.

jack was older, sure, but that didn’t mean aaron was about to leave a 10-year-old alone while he was working–that’s why there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter.

trustworthy, smart enough to help his boy with homework and school projects, available to sleep in and possibly not an eye/hr was a tough find, but with garcia’s help… he found you.

it’s about 3am when he finally gets home this time around, 11 days melting away in texas, communicating with you through texts and facetiming with jack every morning for at least a few minutes being his saving grace, his breath of fresh air when evil corners him in.

aaron expects to find a dark, quiet living room when his keys hit the door, he expects to gulp down some scotch, check on jack from afar and then drop to his bed.

instead, he is met with lights from the ceiling and from the tv that is blasting what appears to be a spider-man cartoon. out of habit he frowns, quietly closing and locking the door behind him and leaving his bag on the floor. his steps towards the tv are as silent as possible against the wood of the floor, not that it would matter with all the noise coming from it.

glancing the room before turning it off he is surprised by what he thinks it’s the most beautiful image he has seen in the longest time. you and jack both asleep on the couch. jack is facing the tv, but one of his arms are hugging one of yours fiercely. your nose is up his hair, your other arm under the both of you and he doesn’t know how you haven’t felt it numb yet. aaron leans into the wall careful not to make any noise, desiring nothing more than to take in this moment just a little bit more. the beauty in it, the peace and quiet.

he wishes he could take an actual picture without being a creep, but he will settle for a mental one for now. for some time all aaron could think about was his boy, his happiness, his safety, his comfort, and jack found it so easily in you that it was impossible for aaron to not feel the same. you were warm, welcoming… kind.

the sudden lack of sound when he turns the tv off wakes you up and you luckily have the self control not to get up in a startle, looking up with a smile and half opened eyes, your voice as low as possible not to spook the not so little one beside you in case he also ended up waking up.

“you’re home early.” you tease, sleepiness lacing your words, adoration clear in your eyes.

aaron only grins, crouching in front of his boy to admire his creation a bit more, safe and sound like that, he passes his hand through jack’s forehead and hair to wake him up which he does in a jump much more loudly than yourself, hugging his dad happily.

“hey buddy, let’s get you to bed?” at ten jack isn’t as easy to carry as he once was, but aaron still does it, especially when he’s this sleepy, especially when he hasn’t seen him in days. he hugs him tightly and softly strokes his hair as he takes him to his bedroom.

jack wants to tell him all about his day, about his week and the cartoon he was watching just before he fell asleep, but aaron is quick to remind him of the time, turning off his night lamp and kissing his forehead goodnight. he’s sure the boy is sound asleep once more before he even leaves the room.

he’s finally able to get his tie off of him, leaving it on the table as he gets you and himself scotch, his jacket is already buried in his go bag, not once having been worn in san antonio’s heat. he hands you the glass, fingers brushing lightly before he settles himself leaning into the back of the couch.

“was he difficult today?” his question almost breaks your heart, for as long as you know jack, he has never been difficult, especially considering everything he’s been through at such a young age. but you understand his query means well and is about the fact jack wasn’t in his bed at such late hours.

“never difficult.” you answer it quickly, taking a sip of the scotch, it’s a bit too strong to you at most times, but you enjoy it before bed and the taste reminds you of hotch. “he’s just been a bit… skittish since the framing incident… some nightmares. it happens less when he falls asleep with me first before going to bed.”

it almost feels like aaron could cry at any minute at your revelation, a very different sight to what you’re used to from him. he’s very much the strong alpha male, unbreakable, a survivor, the most you get from him is his dry humor and the occasional opening up about his past–which you already adore–but the way his eyes glisten right now is completely… new.

you care, it’s in your job description, in your resume, in your heart. so you take two steps too close, your free hand going to his cheek as if its warmth could be enough to help him feel better. and it is, he leans into it, his eyes closed, his hand holding your wrist.

“he’s fine, really. doing great in school, excited for therapy days. don’t make that terrible guilty father face. you’re a great dad, my salary attests to that.” you’re almost ashamed at the feeling you get when you’re able to make him laugh, but you’re definitely ashamed at how you mourn the feeling of his hand when he drops your wrist and you feel obligated to drop your hand. you finish the rest of the scotch in a mouthful and he does the same.

“thanks for being here so much, jack needs it. to be honest, i need it.” aaron’s not even sure what he’s really admitting to, he just knows life has been incredibly easier and stable since you began taking care of jack, and he feels silly for feeling the way he does, because he knows it’s your job, but he hopes his profiler abilities aren’t failing him when he looks into your eyes.

“well, thanks for hiring me.” your answer is merely a joke, used to hide your red cheeks and the way one of your hands went straight to your necklace, playing with it nervously.

aaron notices it, he smiles to himself but doesn’t do anything about it. for now it’s enough to come home and find you safe and sound sleeping embraced with his boy. if anything more comes of it, he’ll let future aaron make something of it.

#lari writes sometimes #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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alannybunnue · 1 year

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Ok, Imagine: The Targaryens as yanderes Part 4

We are covering the entire first season of the house of the dragon, next parts will include details from the books, i am not waiting 2 years for the next season to write this. 😘

Again, thank you all for liking my imagines, it really helps with my mental health.

[THERE MIGHT BE TRIGGERS WARNINGS, SO BEWARE]

Tags: @rosaryos - @haven-is-happy

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Rhaenyra/DoD!Reader:

Suffocating

Surrounded by a broken family

That's how you felt, with the many travels you had to do in last 6 years of your life.

While these people tried to consume you with their infectious affection, they wanted for you to replace your dear mother in their hearts.

Unfortunately, they were the cause of why you lost her, so why should you carry this weight? They shouldn't expect you to remain a pretty doll.

You begin your personal rebellion by not doing everything they wanted, like, flying on Starfyre, you started going from a place to another with her when you were 5, much to your aunt Rhaenyra's and your aunt Alicent's displeasure.

Both tried to take your mother's place in your heart, both tried to make you feel like their families were your's too. But you refused, the only person who you sympathize the most between the two sides was your grandsire Viserys.

Of course, the last place you visited (sometimes in secret, because again, no one can confirm were you are going with Starfyre) was Driftmark, to visit Princess Rhaenys and her granddaughter and your dear friend Baela. They understood you better than many, due to fact that Rhaenys did knew what felt like to lose your family in benefits of others.

But you never told her about this.

About what you heard, when you visited King's Landing for the first time after the incident in Driftmark, what Alicent said to your uncle Larys right after you left their sight:

"I can't look at her and not see her mother...and to think of her death...i told you, i didn't wanted them dead!", the fool didn't expect you to be hearing them, but now you knew, they killed your mother for their own benefit.

One side betrayed your mother and left her in a deplorable state, the other took her life.

The children were no better, they still wanted to trap you with them, especially Aegon and Jacaerys, again, they still wanted you to replace your mother. But you never gave them that pleasure.

Rhaenyra tried to talk to you, tried to be "reasonable" but your face was enough answer for her, you would never forgive any of them for what they did.

When you were in Dragonstone, you spend your time with Lucerys, Rhaena, Joffrey, even with little Aegon and Viserys for they were the less insufferable to be around.

In King's Landing, again you took care of your grandsire, but also spent your days with Helaena and her children and sometimes with Aemond.

Sometimes, you would just fly away, no carrying much about where you would end up, since you always found your way back home, Starfyre, who was used to fly in the same directions, seemed happy for this change of pace.

You thought of all the events of the last 6 years, especially Aegon and Helaena's wedding that felt more like a funeral to you, the end of any possibility for those two to have a good life. You pitied Helaena more than her brother, honestly.

Finally snapped out of your thoughts when Vaemond, Lord Corlys' brother, declared that he was going to King's Landing to fight for his claim of the title of Lord of the Tides against Luke due to Corlys' current state could result in his death.

You understood why Vaemond was doing this, the 3 boys were only Velaryon by name, not blood, thanks to the affair between your father and Rhaenyra. However, you couldn't help but feel sorry for Luke, even if he didn't wanted nor "deserved" the throne, it was the only title he would gain...

You travelled with Rhaenys and Baela to King's Landing, by their pleadings because you wished to remain in Driftmark. You would feel suffocated again in the presence of both families, so Rhaenys suggested for you to stay by her side.

Alicent and Otto welcomed you three once you arrived, the queen even tried to hug you, but you dismissed her attempt clinging unto Rhaenys.

The same happened with Rhaenyra, you kept your distance from her. While she tried to convince Rhaenys of supporting Luke's claim. You were quiet for a time.

"You know that this is what she would want-", in that moment, you didn't control your mouth. - "Don't you dare"

Both women looked at you immediately. - "Don't you use my mother's name in your defense, you may be the princess and heir, but use the name of a dead woman is a low step even for you"

Rhaenyra lowered her head, you were to believe that it was for shame, but it didn't matter anymore, you left the garden before anyone could stop you. You spent the rest of the day in the company of Helaena.

The next day was the trial, you didn't attend it, you decided to stay with Viserys, he was in a deplorable condition, it sadden you. For a couple of minutes, until he sat up and said he needed to go.

The servants dressed the King and you followed him, worried for his health but understanding what he was doing, you stayed at his side when the guards announced his arrival at Throne room.

Everyone looked at him and at you, you were right behind your grandsire since he refused help. You stopped when Rhaenys holded and told you to stay at her side as Daemon helped his brother.

You expected Viserys to defend his grandson, of course, but you never expected the aftermath with Vaemond...

That didn't faze you as much as others thought it would.

You were attended the feast by the King's request. Sitting between Jace and Aegon, before your grandsire arrived, you didn't much attention to your surroundings.

Once the feast started, and everyone said their toasts to each, like good liars, or so you thought, since Rhaenyra made a toast not just for the Queen, but to you as well for "Keeping your mother's legacy", yes same one she helped on destroying it.

But other than that, everything seemed to be going on peacefully, even when Aegon opened his mouth to say something inappropriate, but he kepthis tongue for your sake...until your Uncle Aemond decided to open his mouth.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews...Jace, Luke and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...strong" - And hell fell on the dinner table. The boys attacked each other and Daemon to stop them from killing each other. And you? You started clapping.

Everyone looked at you confused, but you kept your straight face and looked at Aemond.

"Again? What do you wish to lose this time, dear Uncle? Another eye?" - Everyone looked shocked, then Otto answered - "Princess, it's not proper of you to threat your uncle in this moment-"

You scoffed - "A threat? Alright, then dear uncle, next time i shall ask for your tongue as my grandsire so warned you that it would be taken if this matter was questioned again" - You got up from your seat and walked to the door, but before you left the room, you finished - "That was a threat Lord Hand, see the difference?"

You leave the room with disdain, knowing that your words could be a problem for you later, but no matter now, you decided to go to sleep and return to Driftmark with Rhaenys the next morning.

----------------------xxxxxxxx---------------------

That wouldn't happen, as you wake up with sounds of someone locking your doors, you immediately knew something was wrong. You looked through the window to see many ladies and lords walking in the same direction.

Later, Alicent appeared in your room, with a small smile on her face for a bit, as if it would calm you down or something. She then proceeded to explain that Viserys, your King and grandsire was dead, and that in his last wishes, he wanted Aegon to inherit the Iron Throne.

...You didn't believe in a word she said - "As his niece, you must stand at his side for the better, even at your age" - Alicent claimed as she holded your hand.

"And if i don't? What will happen to me?" - You didn't mean to say that, you weren't thinking straight and that was your worst mistake - "Will you send my uncle to burn me like you did to my mother?"

You don't remember her words, she was shocked, yes, but angry too, she said that you had no idea of what you were saying, you accused her of something vile...

You were locked away, as punishment.

----------------------xxxxxxxx---------------------

Aegon was crowned King at the presence of the people of Westeros, you heard the whispers, but no one came to save you.

A weird feeling in your gut started to bother you tremendously, you had to get out on your own accord. You started looking for anything in the room to get out.

Until you did, a map, that indicated a secret passage in the room that could lead to an exit on the Red Keep. You never liked Maegor as many other, but today you were thankful for these secret passages.

You found some old clothes you could use as disguise, you were used to sneak out, but never like this. At least you knew your way to the Dragon pit.

As you walked towards the exit, you prayed that no one would notice your dismiss and look for you, and you kept praying as you made your way in the town...

You felt relieved when you finally got to Starfyre, but your gut feeling grew when you noticed that something was missing...

Vaghar, Aemond's dragon wasn't anywhere to be found

You quickly freed Starfyre and mounted on her, both finally free from the Greens, you had no idea where Aemond could have gone, but you had to look for him, your gut was still bothering you.

You flew south, looking for any clue of where to go, until you spotted Arrax and Luke, and went after them. Then you arrive at one place that you tried to avoid: Storm's End, the home of the blood family of your late mother.

Luke entered without noticing Starfyre, soon after, you landed and now finally found the missing piece, Vaghar. Which means that Aemond was also there, and that meant trouble.

You were quickly escorted inside as you heard the argument, then the guards announced your arrival - "Princess ... Targaryen, daughter of ... Targaryen!" - the sound of your name made everyone twist their heads towards you.

"What are you doing here?" - Luke whispered - "Making sure you return in one piece...Greetings Uncle Borros" - You answered the prince and said to Lord Boros Baratheon.

"You shall address me as Lord Baratheon, Princess" - Lord Boros claim - "If it pleases you my lord, i shall also apologize for my rudeness, my actions were made out of the assumption that, since you are my mother's brother by blood, it wouldn't be a bother to call my uncle." - You taunted him - "May you tell us why you came here, Princess?" - Boros asked - "Simply to confirm your statement as a second witness for the Princess Rhaenyra and escort prince Lucerys back home"

"You took her side? You truly believe that she is capable of ruling?" - Aemond asks, sounding disappointed, you noticed the dagger in his hand...and eyepatch was gone- "Personally? No, however, unlike many, i do respect the late King's true wish, that his named heir became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now i believe we are done here, isn't it cousin?"

Luke nods and as you both start walking away from the room, Boros calls you out - "This is not a child's play, Princess" - Somehow, he sounded worried, you stopped for a second, before answering - "I wouldn't know my lord, i haven't played with my dolls in the last 6 years."

You flew away in the storm with Luke, you tried to follow him, but as you focused on your path, you noticed that Arrax was gone, and you heard someone shoutting in Valyrian, it was Aemond.

You looked for Luke everywhere, until you heard him not too far shouting for Arrax to stop, then Aemond shoutted too, you went higher, above the clouds where the storm wouldn't bother you, until you saw Luke...

What happened next was...shocking? heartbreaking? You didn't knew, both you and Aemond were shocked at what Vaghar did, but you knew, it was his fault.

So you started clapping, maybe it was loud enough for him to hear...

Not that you cared.

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A/N: So...that was it, i hope you guys enjoyed until here...i don't know when i will post the next part :D

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