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jedimaesteryoda · 1 month

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You often miss how similar Jorah Mormont and Petyr Baelish are in some respects.

When it was announced that I was to wed Brandon Stark, Petyr challenged for the right to my hand. It was madness. Brandon was twenty, Petyr scarcely fifteen. I had to beg Brandon to spare Petyr's life. He let him off with a scar. Afterward my father sent him away. I have not seen him since." -AGOT, Catelyn IV Yet with Lynesse's favor knotted round my arm, I was a different man. I won joust after joust. Lord Jason Mallister fell before me, and Bronze Yohn Royce. Ser Ryman Frey, his brother Ser Hosteen, Lord Whent, Strongboar, even Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, I unhorsed them all. In the last match, I broke nine lances against Jaime Lannister to no result, and King Robert gave me the champion's laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that very night went to her father and asked for her hand. I was drunk, as much on glory as on wine. By rights I should have gotten a contemptuous refusal, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We were married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the wide world." -ACOK, Daenerys I

They pursued beautiful highborn women far above their station who, and both being southron women who married northern lords. Petyr pined for Catelyn Tully, and fought a duel for her hand against her betrothed, Brandon Stark. Jorah won a tourney with the favor of Lynesse Hightower, he crowned her queen of love and beauty and managed to marry her when he asked for her hand.

Their stories have a romantic element to them with Petyr dueling for Cat's hand and Jorah winning a tourney with Lynesse's favor, but they end up being subverted with neither getting a happy ending. Petyr loses the duel and is nearly killed, and then SAed by Lysa and sent from Riverrun. Jorah's marriage didn't work out, exhausting his family's coffers to provide her the luxuries she was used to and after selling poachers to slavers, which forced him into exile. Catelyn ended up marrying Ned Stark and Lynesse ended up leaving Jorah to be a merchant-prince's concubine.

After that, they found themselves in service to women with Lysa Arryn having Jon Arryn raisie up Petyr and him later serving Queen Cersei while Jorah ending up serving Daenerys in exile. They also end up betraying the people they serve with Littlefinger having a hand in the War of Five Kings and being behind Joffrey's murder, killing Lysa and Jorah spying on Daenerys.

"I've told the khal he ought to make for Meereen," Ser Jorah said. "They'll pay a better price than he'd get from a slaving caravan. Illyrio writes that they had a plague last year, so the brothels are paying double for healthy young girls, and triple for boys under ten. If enough children survive the journey, the gold will buy us all the ships we need, and hire men to sail them." -AGOT, Daenerys VII "I'm a good girl," Jeyne whimpered. "They trained me." -ADWD, Theon

Another thing they have in common is their attitude towards children and sex slavery. Petyr took the orphaned Jeyne Poole, forced her into sexual slavery at one of his brothels as shown by the whippings she endured for refusing and mentioning "she was trained." He then sent her to Ramsay Bolton of all people, likely not being ignorant of the things he had heard about him. Jorah had no qualms selling kids into sex slavery en masse, and when Dany tells him to stop Eroeh from being raped, he initially pushes back saying the Dothraki are claiming "their reward."

"You shouldn't kiss me. I might have been your own daughter . . ." "Might have been," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age." -ASOS, Sansa VII "What did she look like, your Lady Lynesse?" Ser Jorah smiled sadly. "Why, she looked a bit like you, Daenerys." -ACOK, Daenerys I

It fits their creepy attitude towards the opposite gender with their fixation on young girls after the loss of their previous interests of affection. Petyr fixates on Cat's daughter Sansa Stark who does bear a noted resemblance to her mother while Jorah fixates on Daenerys who he admits looks like his ex-wife.

For half a heartbeat she yielded to his kiss . . . before she turned her face away and wrenched free. "What are you doing?" Petyr straightened his cloak. "Kissing a snow maid." . . . "You shouldn't kiss me. I might have been your own daughter . . ." -ASOS, Sansa VII It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. "You . . . you should not have . . ." "I should not have waited so long," he finished for her. "I should have kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well." His eyes were on her breasts. Dany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. "I . . . that was not fitting. I am your queen." -ASOS, Daenerys I

Their treatment towards these girls can be described as possessive and abusive. While posing to their girls as their protectors, they basically use it to enforce control over them. They force kisses on the girls, and when the girls make it clear they don't want them, simply dismiss them and continue to push. Petyr keeps Sansa in his custody under a false identity, effectively making him her guardian and keeping her completely dependent on him. Jorah tries to isolate Dany from other men in her life from Xaro to Barristan and Daario.

The main difference in Petyr is very vindictive, and works on the downfall of houses Stark and Tully over Cat's rejection and marriage while Jorah stays loyal to Daenerys and tries to seek her favor again. Neither man really takes accountability for the consequences of their actions.

Their fixations will ultimately prove to be their downfalls. Petyr underestimates the danger Sansa potentially poses to him as she is learning from him. Jorah in a desperate act, kidnaps Tyrion, and tries to go to Meereen to regain favor with Daenerys. He likely won't like the Ironborn suitor Victarion, and his actions will likely get himself killed.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #littlefinger #petyr baelish #petyr littlefinger baelish #jorah mormont #jorah #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #queen daenerys

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augustslippedavvay · 1 year

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town crier, village flyer, got a skull and crossbones on his chest (aemond targaryen)

masterlist ❈

summary: You’d never be a dragonrider - you weren’t a Targaryen, though you’d been raised among them - but you get as close to it as you’ll ever be when you lay with Aemond.

author’s note: the title comes from firebreather by laurel, which is such a good song for aemond it’s unreal pls be gentle with me this is my first time writing smut for aemond and i hope y’all like it lol brittany broski if u see this call me

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader word count: 3k warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, not beta read (but i did read through it myself like a million times)

also cross-posted to AO3 as always xoxo do not steal this from me or i will haunt your dreams. i will take up residence underneath your mf bed everyone in this fic is 18+ - minors dni!!!! see note above about dreams being haunted!!!!!

Aemond Targaryen has never wanted for much. Everything he has ever wanted, he has always known he will have.

That includes you.

You’ve grown used to the second-born Targaryen prince visiting you when it conveniences him, when it pleases him - he’s known the secret passageways of the Red Keep like the back of his hand practically since birth, and it took him very little time to route the way from his chambers to yours.

The two of you hadn’t been close when you’d arrived in the capital nearly a decade earlier - a distant Hightower relative’s daughter, whose family had succumbed to sickness, and who’d had nowhere else to go - in fact, you’d been quite the opposite. Aemond had unsettled you as a child, always lurking, always watching, and he’d never had much interest in the goings-on of the ladies of the castle. And then he’d lost an eye, and you still feel the hot pierce of shame crowd your cheeks when you think of how you’d treated him in the aftermath.

As you’d grown, however, as Aemond had grown, an understanding had developed between the two of you. You each recognized something of yourself in the other. What had once been a mutual intrigue had become fondness, over time.

You’d begun to spend more time together, too, oftentimes you and Aemond and Princess Helaena all together, while Aegon was off performing firstborn prince duties, but on rare occasions, you’d have Aemond to yourself. Your paths would cross in the corridor, or between the shelves of the Maesters’ library, or in the courtyard, under the weirwood tree that grew there. You both revered the gods of the Faith of the Seven, like the majority of King’s Landing, but it was always quiet there.

Aemond had kissed you underneath that tree once, where your gods couldn’t see. He had captured your lips with his own, his hands balled into fists at his sides, refusing to touch you despite the damage already being done. You had reached up and cupped his cheeks with your delicate hands, letting him kiss you breathless, but when your pinky had slipped under the patch that covered his ruined eye, he had pulled away and stormed off wordlessly. You had not seen him for weeks after that. When you did see him again, it was clear nothing would be the same between the two of you, not ever again.

“Could I…come to you?” He had asked, no specifics, but you had known what he meant and nodded.

And so the first time Aemond visited your quarters, you were seven and ten, and it was frightening. Not that the prince frightened you - he frightened everyone else, missing an eye and always so gruff as he was, but not you, not since you were children - but you had never been alone with a man before. Not in that way. Not in any way. You’d been watching the door, but he had slipped in the way he always does - through the stone door along the back wall of your chambers - and it had startled you, unexpected, that first time.

“There’s a door there?”

Aemond had nodded, stepped into the room and closed it behind him. “There are passageways all over this keep that you have never seen and will likely never see, my lady.”

You had been worried that it would be painful, or unenjoyable, but he had been gentle, loving, until you had asked him not to be, and that had lit a spark in him you’d yet to see extinguished.

This night is quite different from that one, so long ago. You aren’t so hesitant now. In fact, you’re quite confident. You know when he’ll come, where he’ll come from. You know that he’ll come.

You know how it will feel, how he will taste. And you know that he will leave after.

Aemond never takes anything from you that you hadn’t already been willing to give. That you hadn’t made explicitly clear to him was his and his alone. He has never made any promises to you, outside of pleasure. You see this arrangement for what it is. He has ruined you for other men, but you’ll never be able to have him. Not really.

Tonight you’re poised at your mirror, brushing through your silken hair, when you hear the sound of stone against stone. The promise of a long night. You pause for a moment then keep working, twisting your fingers through your hair, watching in the mirror as Aemond walks across your chambers and stops immediately behind you.

“My lady,” he murmurs, his hands tucked behind his back, and finally you set the hairbrush down.

“My prince,” you respond, turning to face him, gazing up at him from where you sit. He looks so handsome in his riding leathers. He is still wearing his gloves - he must have just come in from riding his dragon. “I am no lady. You know this.”

“But you are my lady,” Aemond says with a smirk, and you roll your eyes. He gives you a half-heartedly shocked expression at the gesture. “Insolence? I could have you flogged for that.”

“Would you, my prince?” You leave your perch and step forward until you’re staring up at him. He looks down his nose at you, smirking.

“Yes, my lady,” he whispers, and there’s a twinkle in his eye, one you’ve grown immeasurably fond of. A playfulness he seems to reserve for you and you alone. You dart away and only just manage to evade his grasp, tip-toeing your way around to the other side of your bed.

“You’ll first have to catch me, Aemond,” you laugh, tossing a grin at him over your shoulder, and watch as his mouth twitches slightly in delight. He moves to stand across the mattress from you, watches your chest rise and fall with glee.

“And when I catch you? What then?”

“What would you like to happen then, my dragon?” You lower your eyelids, look across the room at him through your eyelashes.

Aemond feels his cock twitch in his trousers at the moniker. “I should like to have my way with you, I think. After the flogging, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, biting your lip. The two of you are trapped in a stalemate, but Aemond makes the first move, stalking around the foot of your bed, hands clasped at his back. He looks terrifying right now, you think. You don’t envy anyone who crosses him one bit.

When he’s made it around to your side, you raise your chin slightly to signal your continued defiance, but when Aemond reaches out for you, you all but let him grab your arm, don’t even try to resist as he pulls you flat against him. You can feel his heavy breath on the crown of your head, and one hand pressed to his chest gives the quickness of his pulse away immediately.

“Have I got you worked up, Prince Aemond? Are you going to have your way with me now?”

Aemond smirks and gives you two light slaps on your arse. You jump, your mouth falling open at the feeling, but you laugh when it’s done.

“You call that a flogging?”

“If you’d like, I could bend you over my knee.”

Your head tips back a bit at the thought, and Aemond’s lips meet the skin at the base of your throat. One of your hands finds the back of his head, running your fingers gently through his bone-straight hair, tugging once.

You pull away from him, and Aemond begins to protest, but then your fingers tug at the string lacing up your shift. His eye follows your hands as you take the hem of the chemise into them and pull it up and over your head, until you’re bare before him.

“Seven hells, I’ll never tire of this.”

You flush at his words and reach forward to grip one of his hands, pulling him toward you. He brings the hand you’ve left free down, down, passing the backs of his knuckles along the inside of your bare thigh before running two fingers through your folds. He clicks his tongue.

“Already soaking, my heart,” Aemond says with a cheshire grin, bringing those fingers up to press into your clit, stroking in feather-light circles. “Were you up here waiting for me? Ready for me?”

“Yes,” you pant, your grip on his hand tightening. Your other hand reaches up to run over his shoulder, down his arm, the leather of his jacket smooth against your skin. “You’re still dressed, my prince.”

“Yes,” he hums, echoing you. He continues his work against your clit before he begins his descent to his knees, pressing his mouth against every inch of available skin on his way. Your hand leaves his, settling instead on the crown of his head.

“Aemond –”

“Shh,” he whispers, biting the space above your hip. You gasp and Aemond cups his hands underneath your bum, holding you close to him as his lips find their way to your weepy cunt. He mouths at your clit, your knees buckling slightly, and then tilts his chin down to run his tongue along your slit. Your mouth falls open, and one of Aemond’s hands falls to the back of your thigh, kneading the flesh there as he consumes you.

Aemond crowds you forward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit abruptly, and still he does not take his mouth from you. You bring one foot up to press against his back, supporting your leg so he can spread you open even further, and you cry out when he slips two fingers into you. Gradually you fall backwards until you are lying across the bed, your nails scratching at his scalp. You bring one arm up to toss across your eyes, focusing on the way his tongue feels, the end of it flicking across your clit. His fingers trace over the spot inside of you that sets stars dancing behind your eyelids. Your chest starts to heave.

Before you can come, Aemond pulls away, and you hiss, tightening your fingers in his hair. He wrenches your hand away from him and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your palm, and you rise onto one elbow and grin at the sight of his lips glistening with your sheen.

“Don’t worry, my sweet,” he laughs, rising from his knees and pushing you further up the bed. “I’ll make you come soon.”

He crawls over you and your fingers tuck themselves into the waistband of his trousers, urging them off of him as he blesses you with another of his rare smiles, his tinkling laugh. Kissing you gingerly once, twice, Aemond sits up and makes quick work of the offending garment, making sure his smallclothes go, too, while your fingers tangle with the silver fastenings of his jacket. Once he is as bared to you, he lets you reach for him once more and urge him down to meet you, flat on the bed.

Without hesitation you are kissing him again, grasping his hips and pulling them forward to press against yours, and gasp at the feeling of his hardened cock at your thigh.

“It seems you’re ready for me, too, my prince,” you murmur, smiling when he leans down to capture your mouth with his own at the same time that he takes his cock into his hand and guides it into your wet cunt. You wrap your arms around his back and ease him down until his chest is flush with yours, and he angles his hips to slip himself all the way inside of you.

You’d never be a dragonrider - you weren’t a Targaryen, though you’d been raised among them - but you get as close to it as you’ll ever be when you lay with Aemond. It’s a thrill, and you breathe a sigh of relief when each time isn’t the last.

Your grip on him strengthens when he begins to shift his hips, and your mouth leaves his as the welcoming wet heat of you allows him to press in and out without hindrance. He sets a steady pace, grunting against your lips at the feeling of you tight around him.

Aemond’s fingers bite into the skin at your waist, his touch having verged on painful ages ago, but you revel in the feeling. He’ll be leaving you with reminders of how well he handles you for days to come.

He smells like dragonfire, brimstone, and the sea and leather, and you’d let him bruise your hips a thousand times over if it meant you’d be able to bury your face into the crux of his neck just once more.

“Aemond,” you murmur, fisting the hair at the back of his neck. He hums his reply, pulling back only enough to be able to look at you. You’re not sure when, but he’s lost his eyepatch. The blue glint of the jewel in his left eye socket is nearly hypnotizing, your own jumping back and forth between the sapphire and his violet eye. “Aemond, I’m close.”

“Are you, dove? Would you like to come?”

You nod, your temple pressed to his, and you know then what’s coming next. Aemond stops abruptly, sitting back on his heels, and pulls his heavy cock from you, roughly palming the skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Turn over, then,” Aemond grunts, fisting his cock, and he watches with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you edge up onto your elbows. Aemond grins and pinches one of your nipples, and he laughs as you yelp and slap his hand away.

“Animal,” you accuse, but he just leans down to kiss the side of your head.

Once you’re settled onto your front, hips flat against the bed, Aemond moves to straddle the backs of your thighs, one hand palming the soft flesh of your bottom while the other works quickly to slide his cock back into your waiting cunt.

You cry out as Aemond’s pelvis meets your back, fisting the sheets underneath you as he begins to ease himself in and out of you again, his pace both agonizingly and mercifully slow. One hand at your hip to hold you in place as his strokes lengthen, he reaches the other up to fist your hair and hold your head in place.

At this angle, he’s able to reach even deeper inside of you than he was when you were facing one another, and as he quickens his pace, you arch your hips up to push one hand under them to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh, you’re so close, aren’t you, little doe? Are you going to come for me? Hm?”

You whine in reply, slowing your hand’s pace but loosening the circles it makes, and Aemond’s hips stutter when you clench around him. He eases his knees back alongside yours until he’s able to fall forward and cover your back with his front.

Reaching down, Aemond grips your hips and begins to rut into you in earnest, mouthing at the skin of your shoulder while you tremble under him. His hair falls free against the side of your face.

“Come for me, sweet thing,” Aemond murmurs. “Come for me, because I am going to come for you.”

Your fingers press harder against your clit, dancing side to side now, and you let out one sharp groan as you work yourself over the edge while the tip of his cock presses into that spot inside of you once more. Your cunt spasms, luring Aemond in further, so he wraps his arms around your stomach and fucks you harder, faster, riding you through your orgasm.

“My dragon,” you whimper, one hand reaching around to palm his bottom, encouraging him to fuck into you even deeper. “Come inside of me, please.”

Groaning, the pads of Aemond’s fingers dig into your skin, and he empties himself inside of you, pressed as deep as he can get. His face is hidden in your neck, and you can feel him panting, his open mouth inches from yours. His arms tighten around your middle as his hips slow, then stop, his cock, now softening, still buried in you.

Aemond braces, unraveling his arms from around you, then pulls himself from you and you cry out, pressing your forehead to the bed. He runs one hand gently across your back, soothing you with his touch, and makes to rise.

It takes you a second to collect yourself - it always does, after Aemond - but eventually you roll over onto your side and gaze at him where he stands, bathed in the warm light of your hearth, your heart aching only slightly.

“You could stay, you know,” you pant, one hand folded across your still-bare stomach, as you watch Aemond collect his clothing from the ground. He hums at the thought, pulls his breeches up his lithe legs, then shakes his head. “No one would know, Aemond.”

“I don’t think I should,” he says, smiling sadly, a far-away look in his eye. He pulls his patch, discarded somewhere, somehow, earlier in the night, over the sapphire he keeps in place of the eye he lost.

You nod, then sit up, pull your knees to your chest, and wrap your arms around your legs. “Could I beg one more kiss off of you, my prince?”

Aemond smiles and stalks towards you, pulling his tunic over his head as he goes. “You wouldn’t even need to beg, my lady.”

He leans down, cups the side of your face, and presses his lips to yours. You close your eyes and grip the front of his shirt, holding him to you. You think to tell him you love him, though you know that could never be true, your traitor heart encouraging madness in the aftermath of your coupling. Your mouth opens in hopes of deepening the kiss, but he pulls away.

Then he’s gone, before you can open your eyes.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon fic #hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen/you #emily writes

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bitterkarella · 1 year

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Midnight Pals: Future Art

Christopher Paolini: look at you suckers Paolini: still drawing with your hands? Paolini: think fast, grandpa, the future is now! Paolini: check out my new book, the cover is all AI generated King: why doesn’t the astronaut have arms? Paolini: Paolini: oh I uh meant to do that

Paolini: see, with AI you can just make any cover you want King: wow! Poe: what does this mean for human artists tho Paolini: uhhhh Paolini: what’s that? Sorry I can’t hear you, I must be going under an overpass

Paolini: this is going to revolutionize the fantasy art landscape Paolini: where we’re going, we won’t NEED artists Paolini: get outta here, ya losers! Paolini: we don’t need boris Vallejo when the AI can draw sweaty barbarians Paolini: we don’t need frank frazetta when the AI can draw chunky amazons Paolini: we don’t need the brothers Hildebrandt when the AI can draw a wizard! Beard and all!

Edward Lee: but bro Lee: that’s all well and good Lee: but could the AI draw a girl with big titties? Paolini: oh you’d be surprised Hearn: step aside, let me give the AI a REAL challenge Lafcadio Hearn: could it draw an ANIME girl with big titties?

Paolini: it’s been a long battle but finally we’re free from the tyranny of paying artists for their work Paolini: but I’m sure they’ll keep paying writers for our hard work Paolini: no way this could bite me in the ass

King: but Christopher aren’t you afraid that AI will eventually replace writers too? Paolini: haha replace writers? Haha what a concept! Paolini: please edgar I’m Christopher paolini Paolini: author of the inheritance cycle! Paolini: an epic fantasy about elves and dragons! Paolini: I’d like to see the AI that can think of that

Paolini: please people I wrote eragon! Paolini: a fantasy story about a guy spiritually bonded with a dragon Paolini: an idea totally original to me Anne McCaffrey: Gordon R. Dickson:

Laurel Hightower: so for the cover of this book, I’d like to see a mothman Slimyswampghost: you got it Hightower: can you give him a caked up ass like the statue Slimyswampghost: Slimyswampghost: ok Hightower: see this is why you use a real artist Hightower: Hightower: no Hightower: more caked up

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #christopher paolini #stephen king #edward lee #edgar allan poe #lafcadio hearn #anne mccaffrey #gordon r dickson #laurel hightower #slimyswampghost

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flameswallower · 3 months

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Hi! I have a story in the charity SFF/horror anthology Broken Olive Branches, which was released today. Other writers who contributed their work include Sonia Sulaiman, Zachary Rosenberg, and Laurel Hightower.

All proceeds from the anthology are going to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund and ANERA. Sadly, it's unclear how helpful that will be at this time. To quote Stephanie Rabig's introduction:

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himbopatrol · 1 year

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King With No Crown

King With No Crown - Chapter One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Nadja Mormont - afab)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: eventual smut, sexual tension, flirting, slightly older oc (she’s 21, Aemond’s 19), typical HOD blood and violence 18+

I hardly proof read, sorry.

Summary: Nadja Mormont has been forced to move to Kings Landing within the Red Keep at the hand of her father. Twenty-one and many suitors behind her she finds her eyes lingering on Prince Aemond.

Chapter One:

Nadja Mormont stood in front of her bedroom mirror, staring back at her sorrow and hatred. Hatred for her father and house at this particular moment. Her long dark hair windswept from her enraged walk through the courtyard to her room. Sunken eyes deep. Laurel, her handmaiden, approached from behind, a soft brush in hand. She gently began detangling the ends. She said nothing, nothing until Nadja snapped.

“I can do it myself!” She barked. Laurel stopped, her small smile fading gently. Nadja sighed. “I’m sorry, forgive me Laurel,” Nadja turned to face her, tilting her head and cupping her soft jaw. Laurel stared up at Nadja with bright and watery eyes.

“They can’t make you go, can they my lady?” She whispered softly.

Nadja swiped her thumb across her plump lips. “I’m afraid they can, whether I go willingly or not.”

Lady Nadja Mormont scowled at the heat, scowled at the crowded city, scowled at the titan that was the Red Keep. Without lifting her head, her eyes peered up and out the carriage window to reach the tallest towers. Her father had sent her to King's Landing in hopes of learning a few lessons as a lady of the court, a lady in waiting, maybe to even get close to the royal family and the queen heir when she came into power. He thought the warm waters and thick air might do her Southern mothers blood that coursed through her veins some good. As much as she was not used to it, something inside her stirred as she exited the carriage and the heat hit her flushed cheeks. Her fingers clenched shut the bear skin wrapped around her shoulders, refusing to move it even as she felt the sweat building. Nadja knew her father sent her here for a reason, because now at 21, Nadja had turned down every suitor, maiming a few along the way. She remembered how her father found her last time. Drenched in the suitor's blood, standing over his lifeless body in her chambers, knife still warm in hand. I told him no… and he chose not to listen. She smiled at the memory, the prick deserved it.

Otto Hightower stood at the base of the stairs, awaiting Nadja Mormont. He bowed his head, “Lady Mormont, a pleasure.” Nadja waited a few beats before dropping her head and shoulders. “You’re not burning my lady?” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, scratching the fur, as she walked towards him. She shook her head, he paused at her refusal to speak thus far. “I understand your hesitation Lady. Your father and I exchanged letters on your, situation, but you will be just fine here. Your father is a good friend, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he explained, leading her up the stone steps. She glanced at him from the side of her eye. A few servant men close behind them, carrying her things behind them. They strained at a few of the bags as she had insisted on bringing her library, and her heavy winter cloaks. As the large doors greeted them he asked, “Now, would you like a tour now or do you wish to retire to your chambers for some rest after your long journey?” He paused. “My granddaughter, Princess Helaena, could show you around, she’s very…gentle.”

“It’s only midday, a look around sounds lovely, Princess Helaena sounds lovely,” she finally spoke. Otto was slightly taken back by her words, and her voice. A dark, raspy voice for a lady, it reminded him of Princess Rhaenyra.

“Wonderful,” he said, taking his hand off her shoulder, “I’ll retrieve the princess, wait here.”

Nadja stood awkwardly as the servants walked by with her things, assuming they were bringing it to whatever millionth room in the castle she was staying in. Her fingers twiddled with one another, as her feet shuffled. It was eerily quiet, besides the occasional hand maiden, servant, or court member quickly making their way by, ignoring her. A sudden gasp to her right startled her. She turned on her heels to see who she could only assume was Princess Helaena, who was beaming at her.

“Gods, but you are gorgeous!” the princess squealed, hastily making her way towards her, her fingers immediately finding the ends of Nadja’s dark hair to twist and stroke.

“Hm, pretty,” Nadja spoke under her breath, watching the princess let go of her hair.

“What?” She smiled.

“Pleasure to meet you Princess, I am Nadja Mormont,” she bowed her head. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, she thought.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she smiled, she instinctively linked their arms together to walk together. “This is so exciting, you look like fun, some of these ladies here are so stuffy,” she wrinkled her nose.

“We’ve just met, though I can guarantee, I am fun,” Nadja smiled.

“Oh I can just tell, I knew as soon as I saw you. I knew when I first heard you were coming to live with us,” replied Helaena. “Now, come along, there are so many things to show you and so many people to meet and make friends with.”

Helaena led her around the throne room, the tower where council meetings took place, several courtyards, the kitchen, their apartments, Helaena had made it a point to show how close their rooms were, making Nadja smirk. And how exciting that her brother's room was just there too. “Oh! My brothers, come to the sparring courtyard, they’ll be there,” she led her down a tight staircase.

Standing over a muddy courtyard, Helaena and Nadja stood watching several men of the court, Kingsgaurd, and the Targaryen princes, the sun beaming down on them. “That one there, with the short hair, the one scowling. He’s my eldest brother, and father to my children, Aegon,” she said in some tone between sugary and sour. Nadja raised an eyebrow, finding him sitting to the sidelines, clearly bored and bothered. “That one there,” Helaena closed an eye and pointed into the ring of men, “he’s my other brother, with the long hair, Aemond,” she finished. Nadja found her grip on Helaena’s arm tightening when her eyes landed on the younger prince. She stiffened. “Come now,” Helaena pulled. They slowly made their way down the stone stairs, getting closer to the sound of clashing swords and grunts. “Aemond, Aegon!” She exclaimed over the noise as they reached the bottom. Aegon hardly looked up from where he was sitting, not until he noticed the girl on his wife's arm. A man charged at Aemond who took a graceful step to the side, placed a large hand on their armored chest and with ease shoved the man to the ground, letting the other man slip on the way down. His hair flipped around his face and he seemed out of breath. Nadja bit her cheek, unable to take her eyes off the prince.

“What is it Helaena?” Aemond spoke over the comradery, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

“There’s someone I like you to meet,” she answered, unbothered by his tone.

“Hello,” Aegon appeared in front of them, smiling only at Nadja.

“Hello Aegon,” Helaena said, “this is Nadja Mormont, she’s a new lady of the court,” she placed an arm on her back, trying to get her to step forward.

“Hello Nadja,” he smiled, taking her hand and giving it a kiss.

“Hello,” she attempted to hold back a grimace. Her eyes landed on the other, walking up behind Aegon, pushing a man out of the way in the process.

“Who could be so important that I am to be interrupted from my practice?” Aemond asked, not having looked up yet. He almost ran into Lady Mormont before he stopped, dead in his tracks, his eye trained on her. Nadja stared up at him. Her breath hitched. He was so close she could smell the mud and smoke on him. And he, her perfume. Aegon and Helaena watched their brother clench his jaw for a brief moment. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, suddenly polite. He went for the opposite hand his brother had touched, placing a gentle kiss on it.

“Nadja,” she coughed, finding her voice. “Nadja Mormont.”

“Hm,” he hummed. “Aemond Targaryen,” he spoke with a power that made Nadja swallow her spit. His eye looked her up and down, clocking her bear skin, curious as to what she looked like underneath the bulky fur.

“She’ll be having dinner with us tonight,” Helaena announced.

“What?” Nadja turned to the princess.

“I won’t have any arguments, I insist,” she smiled. “Now, let us see the library,” she pulled Nadja away. Aemond instantly missed her scent lingering, chewing at his bottom lip, he turned back around.

“Compose yourself brother,” Aegon teased, earning him a hard shove from his baby brother as he walked away.

Helaena stayed silent until they were back inside the Red Keep. “Aemond, he’s much nicer than he appears,” she says quietly, as to not let anyone else hear. Nadja only nodded her head. “He isn’t betrothed,” she added simply.

“What?”

“He has no wife, no children. Many of the ladies here find him, well, scary, and he’s never much cared for things such as love,” Helaena explained. “But he seemed to like you,” she smiled simply.

“Yes, he seemed… soft under the edge,” Nadja replied.

“Exactly,” Helaena responded softly. “He’d probably melt in your hand,” she added, making Nadja smile at her bluntness.

“You know,” Aegon began as the brothers walked through the halls to their separate chambers, getting ready for dinner. “I heard from Helaena that she has a Southern mother,” he smiles.

“And?” Aemond asked.

“A very Southern mother, from the Summer Isles.” Aegon explained, his brother stopping and staring at him.

“So?” Aemond sneered.

“So, they are known for their devotion to sex, and according to Helaena her mother practiced some sort of witchcraft, blood and such,” Aegon couldn’t hide his smile. “And with being a woman of Bear Island, I can only imagine she’s…a handful.”

“Why should I care?” Aemond snapped.

“Because I saw how you looked at her. I’m surprised you didn’t take her there, I almost did,” Aegon commented, quickly being shoved into the stone wall, groaning at the impact. His brother's arm against his throat.

“Keep your place brother,” he threatened, slowly letting him go.

Aegon coughed. “You’ve just met her and now you’re trying to kill me. Maybe she already cast a spell on you,” he laughed, watching his brother strut away to his room.

Dinner was entirely uneventful to anyone not paying enough attention.

Aemond sat on the end of the table, the King was bedridden, leaving the seat next to Alicent empty and cold. Across from Alicent sat Helaena, and to Helaena’s left, nearest Aemond was Nadja, with Aegon to her right. Helaena’s children sat at the other end of the table and next to Aegon, playing with their food.

Nadja liked Alicent, she reminded her of a woman of bear island, giving, yet sturdy. She had met her once when she was just a babe and Alicent a young woman, younger than her currently. She could just vaguely remember a sweet girl, seemingly sad though. That sadness still carried in her that night at dinner. Nadja’s father and mother often spoke of her sacrifice and loyalty to duty, something they admired of her.

Aegon watched his brother watch Nadja, catching glimpses of her for himself as well. About halfway through dinner he leaned over to Helaena, “Switch seats with me, will you?” he spoke close to her ear.

“Why should I do that?” She asked softly, tilting her head towards him.

“Because I wish to converse with Lady Mormont, and your babes need you,” Aegon replied, annoyed.

“Your babes too,” she hummed. “You had a great deal in making them Aegon,” she turned fully to him. “But I know you must get me confused with all your other girls,” she smirked, making her mother’s eyes widen and Aemond smile. Nadja slowly placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, catching Aemond’s attention. Helaena stood, pushing her food over, “There you are, my darling,” she spoke, making Aegon roll his eyes as he scooted over to her chair.

“Lady Mormont,” Aegon smiled, Nadja turned her head to the older brother, making the younger tilt his own, silently trying to follow her profile.

“Prince Aegon,” she smiled back, just trying to appease him.

“I see you have still yet to shed your northern skin,” he said referring to the fur still wrapped tightly around her shoulders, he ran a hand through it, Queen Alicent rolled her eyes at her son. “You’re in Kings Landing now Lady, wouldn’t want you to get sick from the heat.”

“Mm, how right you are,” she said as if it was just now occurring to her. Nadja pushed back slightly, undoing her cloak, letting it slip off her shoulders. Aegon and Aemond stared at the newly exposed skin, Aemond gripped his fork, turning his knuckles white. She wore a fairly simple black dress, long sleeves off the shoulders, pushing at her chest. Her shoulders and chest sprinkled with dark freckles. Only Aemond noticed the several small scars across the span of her skin, how he wanted to quietly trace them with his fingers. Nadja slipped the cloak to her left hand, letting it dangle, and without making any eye contact she held the fur out to Aemond, signally for him to take it. Alicent raised an eyebrow, imagining her son wouldn’t take it well. Helaena smiled to herself. Aemond sucked in his cheeks before quickly standing. He took the cloak and slowly draped it on the back of her chair. Slowly because it allowed more time to stare at her exposed skin and for another angle of her chest. As he made his way back to his seat he noticed dark lines emerging from her sleeves, some tracing along her fingers. Ink. Nadja Mormont had tattoos.

Aegon made a bold move of pushing her hair back, Nadja thought about how she might react back home. Knife through his hand? Sadly no, that’s not appropriate for a prince. “So your father is over Bear Island, but your mother is?”

“From the Summer Isles,” Nadja answered.

“Does she reside at Bear Island with your father?” He popped a grape into his mouth, Nadja forced away a natural eye roll.

“Yes, your highness. She quite likes it there. Though in recent years she had sailed back from visits,” Nadja said.

“How does such a Northerner even acquire a woman of the Summer Isles?” Aegon smiled.

“He had visited the Summer Isles as a young man, and caught the eye of my mother. She was so keen on him she agreed to move to the North, abandoning the sun and warm beaches. A part of me is thrilled to be so South. I think the sun will agree with me, and I would prefer to swim in not so freezing waters for once. A part of me misses the cold though, so brutal and honest I think, something I can agree with,” Nadja explained. Aegon had stopped listening, but not Aemond, he held onto every word she said, disappointed when she stopped talking.

“And is it true that your mother was? Is? Some sort of–”

“My mother never put a spell on my father, there was no need. But yes, she was a prostitute, something not looked down upon there as it is here, but she was also a seafarer, and a good one from my experience. I am proud to have the sand and sea running through my blood alongside snow and great bears,” Nadja answered the prince's question before he could ask it.

Nadja made her way towards her chambers, not quite alone as she would have liked. She could hear the echoing footsteps behind her. As she turned the corner of a tight hallway, she was shoved against the wall, a heavy breathing Aegon Targaryen pining her there. “Hello little cub,” he gave her a toothy grin.

“Get your hands off me,” she groaned, pushing him back. “You’re drunk, go attend to your wife, not me,” she snapped, knowing talking to the prince like that might not work in her favor. She turned her heel to walk away.

“Bitch,” he mumbled before grasping at her hair, followed by a harsh tug. She quickly wrapped her fingers around his wrist, twisting it, making him cry out. He bent over in pain, she wasn’t letting up.

“Call me that again,” she whispered. Before he could a firm hand yanked him back and out of her grasp. Aemond held his brother, letting him fight against it.

“My brother is an idiot and doesn’t know what’s good for him, forgive him,” Aemond struggled to get his words out as Aegon wiggled around.

“No,” Nadja replied simply before turning again to walk to her room. Aemond threw his brother to the side before falling on her tail.

“Lady Mormont,” he exclaimed. She ignored him. He continued after her. She quickly opened her door, going to slam it before Aemond slipped in behind her.

“Is there something I can help you with, my prince?” She asked, trying to gain composure.

“No,” he stepped back, realizing he was in her room, unwelcomed. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

“Fine,” she responded quickly.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“It didn’t seem as though you actually needed my help,” he couldn’t help but smile, smile that such a woman could bring his brother down to his knees like that. “It looked like you had it handled.”

“That I did,” she straightened up, “but thank you for helping me nonetheless,” she bowed her head.

“Hm, do you spar?” He crossed his arms behind his back and took a bit of a wider stance.

“I certainly can, do I enjoy it?” She asked like it was a task. “Yes, I do,” she smiled, making Aemond smile, and even a light chuckle escaping his lips.

“And would you like to, tomorrow?” He kept his smile. “If you’re not busy, that is, though this big castle can get a little cramped and I do know my way around it, we’re bound to run into each other eventually,” he smirked.

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Goodnight Lady Mormont, I’ll make sure a guard is posted outside your door in case my brother gets any more ideas” he bowed his head before backing up to leave.

“Goodnight and thank you Prince Aemond,” she curtsied in response.

“Aemond, Lady Mormont,” Aemond spoke softly.

“Nadja.” Aemond began to walk away. “Aemond?” He turned. “Do you really have the largest dragon in the realm?” She asked, with a smile tugging at her lips.

He hummed before leaving, “I do Nadja.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #game of thrones #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house mormont #aemond targaryen smut #i.a.m

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raybyanothername · 1 year

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The Mafia+ AU I will probably never write.

Targaryens are the last big mafia family left after a massive crack down from the feds. They are referred to as the dragons and there's some vaguely mystical/magical theories about them that may or may not be true, but they all definitely have super cool dragon tattoos (relevant later). At the beginning, they are united under their patriarch, under Jaehaerys. All is well. Everything runs smoothly.

Everything runes smoothly partially because Rhaenys has been working behind the scenes to keep them that way, supporting her father, who is the heir apparent/second in command.

And then her father died and Baelon was named heir two days later, a pregnant Rhaenys leaves the family for a while. She just nopes right out of being the shadow behind the power, of doing all the work and receiving none of the credit. This leaves a power vacuum that Baelon scrambles to fill.

Enter Otto Hightower. Both Jaehaerys and Baelon begin to rely on him heavily. He’s a competent lieutenant, ruthless and efficient. He’s no dragon though and he definitely gets too big for his britches. Most people think he killed Baelon and Jaehaerys, but no one is dumb enough to accuse him in front of Viserys.

Viserys is the boss now. The figurehead. Otto is the true power behind the dragons. A fact which his daughter, Rhaenyra, becomes more and more aware of as time goes on. She’s not afraid to accuse Otto, but she doesn’t go to Viserys with that concern. She goes to Rhaenys.

While the dragons were resting on their laurels, simply maintaining their boundaries, letting Otto rake in the benefits of a network established by generations of Targaryens, Rhaenys was establishing her own network. The Velaryons had previously been underlings, serving the Targaryens, but when Rhaenys left, she took them with her. Her grandfather, her uncle, and then her cousin had all overlooked the power she was carving out for herself, for her family.

When Rhaenyra comes to her after her mother is killed in a car ‘accident’ along with her baby brother, Rhaenys has two children and a proper fleet of underlings loyal to her and her husband. Corlys and Daemon serve as her right and left hands. Rhaenyra tells them everything she knows about the changes Otto has made and Rhaenys uses it to her advantage. Rhaenyra aligns herself entirely with her father’s cousin by marrying Laenor.

The family is split now, though Viserys is refusing to acknowledge it. Rhaenys is pissed about Aemma's death. About Viserys' ineptitude. Viserys suspects Rhaenys of Rhea's death, thinks she's poached his daughter away.

It's essentially a cold war, a stand off. Neither side will directly move against the other. Joffrey is gutted at the wedding. Otto's eldest son goes missing. Back and forth it goes for years.

And then Laena dies. In a fire. Daemon is out for blood. Rhaenys sets her sights on Otto Hightower. They gather for the funeral. Everyone is expecting a bloodbath.

Aemond collapses. Vhagar - the dragon that had been tattooed on Laena's torso (wrapping around nearly her whole body, the tail on her arm, the head over shoulder, breathing fire around her heart) appears on Aemond's.

This is secretly a Targaryen's are dragon-shifters AU, but like, they rarely actually shift. They do, however, breath fire. And are usually impervious to all non-dragon fire.

Obviously, this does not go down well. There's arguing, accusations. Somewhere in the mix, Otto Hightower turns up charred to a crisp. Rhaenys offers her cousin a truce, because his son now holds her daughter's dragon. Viserys, who hasn't shifted in over two decades, who's tattoo faded and is barely a ghost upon his skin, agrees.

He is looking very nervously Otto's body when he agrees. Every one of his remaining lieutenants notices this as well.

Alicent, however, is fucking pissed. Part of the deal includes her children and Rhaenyra's being sent to the same school, mixing together. She does not trust that, at all. (And she probably shouldn't because Daemon is still Daemon and he agreed to nothing.) Alicent takes over where her father left off, using those loyal to her – Cole and Larys – to deal with any that might try to stand against Viserys now that he shown such obvious weakness against his cousin.

Rhaenys and Rhaenyra start to encroach on the Targaryen territory properly. They do it slowly. Alicent strikes back violently. Aemond’s dragon is the strongest after all and he’s always been a bit of a mama’s boy. A threat against their father is technically a threat against their mother. Alicent’s children don’t think their sister or her family will spare them, should this turn in to a proper war.

Amongst all of this, Jace and Aegon run in to each other at a strip bar. Jace is there to collect the protection money, Aegon is there to get smashed. They end up in a backroom together, slightly toasted, very horny. Unfortunately, this is one of those VIP rooms that doubles as a blackmail operation. The tape ends up in Daemon’s hands because no one is crazy enough to blackmail a dragon – Velaryon or Targaryen.

The two have started a secret relationship, because this is also a Romeo and Juliet AU.

Jace and Aegon have no idea that Daemon knows about them. They continued to work for their respective families, occasionally making small agreements between one another to prevent fighting/keeping things running smoothly. That works perfectly fine. Until Aemond puts Luke in the hospital and Daemon decides they should put Aegon in the morgue, as payback. Jace protests, Daemon mocks.

“Would you prefer we go for Daeron instead? Save the uncle who’s cock you love so much for another time.”

There is great awkwardness as Daemon reveals Jace’s transgressions. Rhaenyra loses it. She goes for Aegon herself, revealing his relationship with Jace to Alicent when she attacks them both. Rhaenys stops her, barely.

A peace summit is held. Aegon uses the opportunity to sneak in to Dragonstone and get Jace out of the house arrest that Daemon has him under. They abscond to Essos, having transferred a significant amount of funds from both families to an offshore account. Jace visits Luke at the hospital, his brother waking up just in time to see him leave with Aegon.

Aemond gets sent after them, because in every universe he ends up cleaning up his brother’s messes. He is not at all diligent about it, because in every universe he is also significantly more loyal to his brother than people expect. Luke finds this absolutely hysterical and makes a joke about it at one of the very awkward meetings between their mothers.

“Why would Aemond help you find them? He’s been covering for Aegon since we were kids. I doubt sucking Jace’s dick is going to change that.”

There’s a scuffle. Luke stabs Aemond in the eye. Aemond is, for reasons he will not be analyzing, into it.

Rhaenys sees what’s happening. Proposes yet another peace, this time a proper merging of the families. “As it should be.” Aemond ends up an enforcer for Luke, who is groomed to be the next heir. All is right with the world. Unless you get on their bad side, then you’re fucked.

#ray writes #house of the dragon #hotd #mafia au #aegon ii targaryen x jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon #jaegon #lucemond

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queenaryastark · 1 year

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The chivalric gesture of naming someone queen of love and beauty is not inherently romantic. Chivalry in real life and in the books, with a few exceptions, is performative and political. Behold, all canon examples of QOLAB:

Princess Daenerys Targaryen (daughter of Jaehaerys and Alysanne) was crowned by Simon Dondarrion in the tourney in 55 AC. Since Daenerys was born in 53 AC, and the gesture earned the knight a positive response from the common people as well as the toddler's mother, that suggests that Simon wasn't pursuing a romantic relationship with a baby. He crowned the baby to gain political favor from her parents and to gain a good reputation.

Queen Alysanne Targaryen was crowned by Ryam Redwyne 58 AC. Since Alysanne was married to the reigning king, this must have created a scandal, right? Wrong. There is no suggestion of Alysanne having an affair with anyone, certainly not Ryam. He crowned her to gain royal favor.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was crowned with the victor's laurel for a melee by Criston Cole in 104 AC when he was 23 and she was 7 years old. Criston is filth, but was he really publicly establishing a romance with a seven year old princess? Why wasn't he sent away or killed after this romantic gesture? Because it wasn't romantic. He was trying to improve his station by making a chivalrous gesture toward the king's daughter. Sure, the child developed a crush on him, but this wasn't publicly seen as an issue at the time.

Queen Naerys Targaryen was crowned by Prince Aemon. This dynamic is given similarities to the Arthurian romance between Guinevere and Lancelot within the popular culture Westerosi songs and stories. But, TWOIAF makes it clear that the historical Naerys sees normal relationships between siblings to be platonic. She even asks her husband-brother to stop forcing her to have sex with him now that they have an heir, saying they should live as brother and sister ... meaning no sex. So why would the brother she has a positive relationship with have romantic designs on her? The truth is, the crowning wasn't romantic. Aemon was honoring his sister.

The daughter of Lord Ashford from The Hedge Knight began a tourney as the reigning QOLAB with two of her brothers as well as three other men defending her title. If this is romantic, that means she was romantically involved with five men, including two of her brothers. This is clearly just a role in the game of chivalry. A Targaryen prince is even honored by being named one of her champions despite no connection between him and her being noted.

Princess Rhaella Targaryen was crowned by Ser Bonifer Hasty. OK, this was clearly romantic. The very first romantic example available.

The daughter of Lord Walter Whent and Lady Shella Whent started the tourney as the reigning queen. Her champions were her brothers and her celibate uncle. No romance noted.

Lyanna Stark was crowned by Rhaegar Targaryen. Was this romantic? There's no evidence they knew each other before or spent significant time together during the tourney. She was hanging out with her siblings, protecting Howland, and secretly competing in the tourney while Rhaegar was surrounded by his friends and allies, trying to overthrow his father, and competing in the jousts. Where was the time? But here's a passage from TWOIAF detailing how those present found this to be political:

Lynesse Hightower was crowned by Jorah Mormont as the second example of this being a romantic gesture.

So of the eight known QOLAB and the one recipient of the champion's laurel, only two (2) examples were overtly romantic. Crowning someone or standing as their champion isn't a huge romantic gesture. It's certainly not something that is going to harm an uncrowned woman's social status. Elia's position as Rhaegar’s wife and the presumed future queen consort of Westeros wasn't threatened by her not receiving an empty chivalrous gesture. Even if it had been romantic, it would be damaging to Lyanna's social standing, not Elia's since Elia is married to the crown prince while any other person can only be his paramour.

This whole idea is just as unfounded as Jon being a threat to his legitimate siblings. The facts of the series simply don't support it. He would be treated as inferior to them and have fewer opportunities because he is illegitimate. And this isn't about defending Rhaegar, who I am not a fan of lol

#elia martell #lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen #alysanne targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #asoiaf

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